Chapter Seven: Malfoy's "Death" and The Haunting of Grimmauld Place
"I will not be smacked about in my own house!" Zacharias was shouting furiously at his mother and grandmother as he paced before the fire.
Zacharias, his mother, and his grandmother were in the large livingroom of the Hufflepuff Mansion with the fire roaring (though it was the beginning of September). Their house elf was tottering out with a tray of empty wine glasses, her young legs working hastily to get around the young master's furious pacing.
Zacharias had woken in the cellar of the Mansion filthy, bruised, and alone. The once dismembered piano stood as it had always in the dusty, cobwebbed corner of the cellar. Zacharias could very easily have dismissed the entire episode as a bad dream had it not been for the smarting lump on the crown of his head, his busted lip, and the footprints of his peers in the dust-coated floor.
Zacharias had fled the cellar at once and alerted the entire house. There were aurors searching the mansion from cellar to attic from noon to three before Zacharias was accused of prankery and promptly fined.
"This is a dangerous time, Madame," one of the aurors had said to Zacharias's mother in a stern tone. "We can't afford to be dragged from our duties by pranks. Good evening."
"Calm down, Zachy," croned his mother some hours later as she attempted to dab Zacharias's bloodied lip as he passed. "You fell down the cellar stairs and had a boo boo, that's all. Boo boos can cause bad dreams."
Zacharias brushed his mother off impatiently and continued pacing, "Will you stop it, Mother? I'm not five!"
"Hardly," grunted his grandmother. "I would have said six."
Zacharias haulted and glared at her, "I know that we've had our differences in the past, Grandmother --"
"I've told you time and again to call me Adele!" growled the old witch.
"Adele," continued Zacharias, his lip curling. "Whatever the case, it's true, I tell you! Potter and his friends blackmailed me into letting them into the house! And when we went into the cellar --"
"There is no secret entrance, there is no secret chamber!" snarled the old witch, flames darting from her nostrils rather like a dragon. "And if I hear you say it one more time . . ." She lifted her wand from the folds of her green and gray robes and mimicked cursing her grandson.
Zacharias glared at her, "Fine. Have it your way. But when Potter and his friends pop up in the toilet -- "
"I think it's time you went upstairs, Zachy," interrupted his mother nervously.
The old witch was looking murderous.
"I won't be told what to do like -- I won't be badgered -- " Zacharias sputtered as his mother hussled him out of the room.
But in the next moment there was a thud, and grappling mother and son turned with open mouths to see a gaggle of filthy teenagers struggling to rise from the crisp, white carpet. The old witch snorted so hard on her pipe a cloud of smoke stained her face black as Harry Potter rose and smiled nervously.
"S-sorry bout that," he choked.
"Ha!" cried Zacharias, jabbing a finger as Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Draco Malfoy rose as well. "Ha! I told you, Adele, I told you!"
"I'll be an old maid," grunted the old witch as a great, violently red bird swooped around the ceiling. "It's Fawkes!"
"I told you!" Zacharias cried again.
"Don't you have anyone else to annoy? Poisonus reptiles, perhaps?" snapped the old witch, glaring at her grandson.
"Um, run along, Zachy, I'll take care of your friends," said Zacharias's mother nervously as she tried hastily to shove her son from the room. Her hands shoved the air: she still hadn't taken her eyes off of Harry and the others.
It occured to Harry suddenly that the old witch had been cruelly mimicking her daughter (more likely daughter-in-law) when speaking to Zacharias earlier. In fact, she seemed to hate the boy. It was only the mother who called Zacharias "Zachy" sincerely.
Zacharias wouldn't leave. He sidestepped his gawking mother and glared at the intruders, his hands on his hips.
"Well?" Zacharias demanded of Harry and Ron. "Hand over the pictures, then."
"Pictures?" repeated Ron blankly. "Oh, right . . ." He pulled the camera from his pocket, but it had melted into a gray mass. He gulped. "Fred and Geogre are gonna kill me . . ."
"Then they wouldn't be so useless afterall," muttered Malfoy.
"That's the one who attacked me!" Zacharias yelped, pointing a trembling finger at Malfoy. "Quick! Call the aurors! He works for You-Know-Who!"
"What the devil are you doing in our house, Potter?" the old witch asked, but with a fond twinkle in her eyes that reminded Harry with a pang of Dumbledore. "And with Dumbledore's bird, no less."
"The founders. We need their relics, remember?" Harry answered nervously.
The old witch nodded and twinkled. "Oh, yes. Tell you what, young Potter. You convince that bird to stay with me, and I'll give you anything you want. I'll even throw in the boy for an Sickle." She laughed with Harry, Ron, and Ginny as Zacharias went pale with anger.
But Harry hardly needed to convince Fawkes of anything. He watched as Fawkes swooped in low from the ceiling and landed lightly on the arm of the old witch's chair, humming softly. The phoenix closed its eyes with delight when she stroked its head.
"Beautiful, beautiful creatures, phoenixes. I should like to have seen Dumbledore change one last time before . . ." She sighed as if holding back tears and smiled at Harry. "Ah, well."
"And you have the cup?" Harry asked, trying not to sound too eager.
Ron couldn't hold back an angry noise as the old witch reached under her chair and pulled out a shoe box.
"We went through all of that, and she had it the whole time!" Ron hissed, but Hermione cast him a cold look.
The old witch lifted the cup with slightly trembling, wrinkled hands from its tissue wrapping, eying it as reverently as if it was the most precious thing in the world.
"I was the keeper of the cup when I was young. Guarded it with my life." The reminiscent smile faded as the old witch eyed Harry. "This cup has many secrets, young Potter. You would do well to keep it out of . . ." She glanced at Malfoy, whose upper lip curled at her. " . . . irresponsible hands."
"I plan to keep it out of everyone's hands," said Harry, stepping forward.
The old witch didn't hand the cup over. She was still eying Harry, "And what you plan to do with the cup is on Dumbledore's orders and not your own, of course."
"Of course," confirmed Harry, staring with such determination into the old witch's eyes that she relented and handed the cup over.
"Can't be too careful," she explained to Harry as she sat back and drew on her pipe once more. "Today's youth . . ." She made an aggrivated noise and glared at her grandson.
Zacharias swallowed and puffed his cheeks out as if someone had stuffed something foul down his throat, "Well! With that done you can all get out!" He glared at Harry.He seemed toblame him for Malfoy's attack in the basement."Now, Potter! And don't ever come back!"
"Shut your mouth, boy, before it disappears," croaked the old witch, waving her wand testily. "Martha!"
Zacahrias's mother, who was standing in a sort of shocked trance as she watched the proceedings of the room, jumped like she'd been shot and looked at the old witch nervously.
"Y-yes, Madame?" she answered meekly.
"Get these children cleaned up!" The old witch shifted around in her chair as if looking for something. "Oh, where is that bloody house elf when you need it?"
"You called, Madame?" squeaked a voice as Zacharias's mother waved everyone clean with her wand (even the old witch's face was cleaned of its soot).
The young house elf stood quietly in the doorway, shoulders hunched.
"Show these children out," the old witch ordered.
"Yes, Madame."
"What about Malfoy?" burst Ron as the house elf attempted to bow them from the room.
None of them had moved, and Malfoy glanced quickly at Ron as if he'd ruined his escape.
Ron jabbed his thumb at Malfoy, "He's working for You-Know-Who! We can't let a Death Eater walk!"
"It's true!" jumped in Zacharias, siezing his chance. "Malfoy was a ring leader in last year's attack on the school!"
The old witch stared at Malfoy, who was looking disgusted and annoyed.
"He may bare the Mark, but he's no Death Eater at heart," the old witch said after a long moment of staring. "Couldn't kill him, could you, young Malfoy? Not your father's son after all."
"Just let me out of here, old woman," Malfoy snapped impatiently. "What would you know about it?"
The old witch's shrewd expression hadn't changed. "Of course, you're welcome to stay here. I could hide you most effectively. Give you a drought of Polyjuice Potion . . . let you stay on as Martha . . ."
Mrs. Smith and Zacharias's eyes bulged at the same moment. Zacharias began to sputter incoherently.
"Or Zacharias, if you prefer." The old witch shrugged. "I'm not very fond of either of them. Sending them away while you take one of their places wouldn't bother me."
"How can you . . ." It was the first time Harry had ever heard Zacharias's mother speak in a voice that wasn't babish or meek. She was glaring at the old witch and positively shaking in outrage. "How can you speak of us so cruelly! Charles would never allow --"
"Charles was a smart, handsome young wizard bewitched by a scarlet woman!" growled the old witch, her voice rising. "My son was an innocent victim of a love potion! You've probably done it before, haven't you?" She narrowed her eyes at Mrs. Smith, whose hands were clenched into trembling fists.
"Haven't you, you painted hus--"
"Don't call me -- !" screeched Mrs. Smith and broke off. She took a deep breath, straightened up, and glared at the old witch. "I can't wait until you die," she said through her teeth, shocking the room at large. And she turned on her highheel and marched out, dragging a sputtering Zacharias with her.
"Now that we've gotten rid of Charles In Charge . . ." the old witch said with a chillingly satisfied smile. She sat back and drew on her pipe, eying Malfoy, "What say you, boy?"
"I couldn't stay in this house," answered Malfoy faintly. "Your relatives would drive me mental."
The old witch chuckled, squinted one eye and continued to watch Malfoy, "Then what are you going to do? Thrust yourself into the world with You-Know-Who on your tail?"
Malfoy didn't answer. He seemed confused.
"Tea, Mr. Malfoy?" asked the old witch, gesturing to an empty chair beside her.
Malfoy hesitated and sat.
"Bring Mr. Malfoy and myself some tea after you show the others out," the old witch instructed the house elf, who bowed the other four from the room with a squeaky, "Yes, Madame."
"And, Mr. Potter?"
Harry paused.
"Good luck."
"Blimey," said Ron when they were outside again. "I don't know who will drive Malfoy nuts first -- Smith, his mental mum, or that scary old woman."
"I'd place five Galleons on Grandma Smith," Harry told Ron out of the corner of his mouth, and they dodged, laughing, as Hermione swatted them with the flats of her hands.
Number 12 Grimmauld Place, of course, held no clues. Not even to the whereabouts of Mundungus Fletcher. Most of the relics gathered in last year's hurried cleaning had been stolen and sold by the crook, whose bleary eyes had shown only the slightest guilt when confronted by Harry.
"We can't even be certain he has the locket," said Hermione, looking squimish as she passed the row of mounted house elf heads.
They paused on the dusty upstairs landing, Harry looking at Hermione incredulously.
"Hermione," cried Harry, "You're the one who suggested that he did!"
"Of course I did! Who else would have taken it from Malfoy? If Mundungus was near Hogwarts, it would have been the perfect chance for Malfoy to pass the locket off and get a little bit of his money's worth returned to him."
"Yeah," said Ron thoughtfully, "I suppose stealing the locket back from Dumbledore wouldn't have been hard with Snape's help --"
Ron stopped suddenly and he and Hermione looked nervously at Harry. Mentioning Snape around Harry was like poking a sleeping dragon in the eye.
"We probably should've gone to Knockturn Alley," Ginny said, trying to keep things from going from bad to worse. "Right, Harry? It's the ideal place for a crook."
"And it's where the locket was in the first place," Harry agreed. "Who knows? It's been to the same store twice."
They were moving toward the stairs when Harry felt the hairs on his neck rise.
They weren't alone.