Spring 1986
The holidays had passed peacefully away for the Dursleys. But not for the small boy in their care. Vernon's sister, Marge, loved her bulldogs, and one of the particularly mean ones had chased Harry after Marge gifted him a box of dog biscuits for Christmas. Poor Harry was nearly unable to get away from him, but, running near a tree, he jumped and found himself sitting in one of the higher branches. Aunt Marge hadn't called off the dog until sometime after midnight, as the family enjoyed seeing Harry shivering with cold up in the tree.
But pass they had, and life returned to normal on Privet Drive. Vernon went to work at Grunnings, Dudley and Harry went to Primary school, and Petunia kept a weathered eye on all the neighbors' comings and goings. It was nearing the end of March, however, when Vernon brought home a piece of news to his wife and son.
"Mr. Malfoy has invited us to dinner at Sorrel on April 5th." Vernon announced when he arrived home from work that evening. "He said he enjoyed our fine dinner here, but wanted to take us out in appreciation for my hard work increasing sales at Grunnings."
"That's wonderful, Vernon!" replied Petunia excitedly. She had heard about Sorrel but none of their friends or neighbors had been able to go as yet. She would be the first. It was a gossip lover's dream come true!
"Will their son be there this time?" asked Dudley. "It was so booooring last time."
"I think so, son," replied Vernon. "He was getting over being ill last time, remember?"
"I wasn't listening to you guys, it was BOOORING." said Dudley.
"But Diddy-dums, you were so good. We should get ice cream again, Vernon, our Dudders was such a grown up gentleman," pressed Petunia. She was hoping they'd see someone she could brag to while they were out.
"Of course, pet," replied Vernon. "We can go right now. BOY!" Vernon shouted. "Get out here this instant!"
Harry came in from where he had been doing laundry in another part of the house. "Yes, Uncle Vernon?"
"We're going out for ice cream now, and YOU," Vernon pointed right in Harry's face, nearly knocking his glasses right off his nose in the process, "will stay here."
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied. It did no good to ask for ice cream or to go with them. He never got to go, and never got any treats.
Vernon grabbed Harry's shoulder and pushed him into the cupboard, locking the door once he was inside. Harry waited until the door closed behind them and the house was silent before flicking the light switch, flooding his small cupboard with light from the broken bulb. He pulled out the new book he had been reading, this one from Christmas, and another of Dudley's discarded items, as well as his scrap paper just in case. He liked reading and the teachers were impressed with his progress. Of course this book was no challenge for him, at school he was reading books with no pictures, but it would help him pass the time.
April 5, 1986
The evening of the dinner at Sorrel had arrived. Harry was again locked in the cupboard under the stairs while the family went out for the evening. He had only been given a cup of water as the Dursley's weren't feeling in a generous mood. Lord Malfoy had told Vernon that dinner would be his treat, and as they knew the restaurant was quite expensive, they were only too happy to give their consent. But that didn't translate to more positive feelings towards their unwanted freak nephew.
The evening started well, they all arrived at the restaurant within a few minutes of each other. Lucius and Narcissa were dressed in their preferred muggle mode of dress: understated, but wealthy. Vernon and Petunia had purchased new dress clothes for the occasion, and Petunia was quite proud of her rather ostentatiously floral spring dress.
Draco was in attendance this time, having done no accidental magic for a full week two weeks prior to the dinner to earn the privilege of being out amongst the muggles. Draco wasn't particularly looking forward to the evening with Dudley, who, from his parents' words, he took to be dreadfully dull and nearly half-witted. But he had wanted to see some of the muggle world, and was trying to be involved in anything he could with his father so he would be prepared to take over the family business in the future. He loved spending time with his mother, enjoying the shopping and spa treatments, and having people fuss over him, but he saw no reason he couldn't do those things and handle the business as well. Hopefully the muggle boy wouldn't drive him to distraction at dinner. His parents were evaluating his manners this evening as well. And it wouldn't do for the Malfoy scion to present himself in anything less than the perfect light, even if it was only for muggles.
Dudley was present, in a new suit this time. He had gained another stone since their previous dinner party and the old one wouldn't fit. He had popped the button on his pants, and nearly split the seat, when they tried. His parents had promised him a TV for his room if this evening went well, but Dudley wasn't sure about the whole thing. The boy, Draco, had a weird name, and he was looking at Dudley funny, which Dudley didn't like.
Lucius and Narcissa were both hyper-aware, focusing on every little change in sensation around them. The family library had yielded no insight for the strange physical effects encountered at the Dursley residence, and so they were using this evening out as a test. Would they feel anything here in the blatantly muggle establishment, surrounded by nothing by muggles? Lucius had surreptitiously used his ministry contacts to ensure that the location he selected for the dinner had no possible muggleborns nearby that might affect their attempts to ascertain the stimulus of their previous physical response. Neither was sure if they were most hoping for something to occur, or if they would rather nothing did. Lucius, however, was of the opinion that it was something specific to that cramped little house and more specifically the cupboard under the stairs. Narcissa argued against that for form's sake, really, Lucius could be so insufferable when he was proven correct, but privately, she was almost certain he was right.
Vernon and Petunia were delighted with how the evening was going. They were dressed in nice clothes, out of the house, and the freak was at home where he couldn't reflect poorly on them or their son. And best of all, the evening was free! They perused the menu and exchanged what they thought were sly glances at each other, noting the expense. Petunia was gathering impressions and descriptions to lord over her acquaintances. Vernon was hoping to talk about drills.
An outsider looking at the table would clearly be able to see the distinction. Where the Malfoys were all cool elegance and class, the Dursleys were a tawdry imitation, clearly attempting to move beyond their means. Nowhere was this more apparent than when looking at the two boys, seated next to each other, and looking complete foils. Draco was poised, precise, and polite whether he was eating his food daintily, or conversing with his mother or Petunia when a question was directed to him. Dudley was a horrible contrast, scarfing his food down with no care for the fine linens or china. Flecks of food made their way onto his clothing, while Draco continued to look as perfect and pressed as he had upon arrival.
Their conversation was nearly as stilted as the dinner party at the Dursley home. They really had next to nothing in common. Narcissa was proving her worth as a diamond hostess, engaging Petunia regarding fashion, the weather, and her son. Lucius was utilising his practiced charm to keep Vernon entertained, when he wasn't stuffing his face. Of course the small portions on the plate made the Malfoys wonder if the Dursleys were even tasting the food, the men having inhaled each dish in two or three bites, and Petunia taking such small bites that three quarters of her meal was taken away. They were much better at disguising their smirks to each other, Draco letting his parents know he was appalled at the situation, and his parents commiserating this experience.
But what they were hoping for (or not) never occurred. None of the Malfoys felt anything like the magical tingles, prickles, or shudders that touched them in the Dursley's residence. Draco had been told about the feeling, in hopes that if he felt it, he would know what it was, and not to react. Lucius was more intrigued than ever. A puzzle, a mystery, a conundrum. He nearly couldn't wait to employ his skills of keen observation and deduction in an attempt to decipher this new, glorious riddle. Even though it would mean he'd have to deal with the muggles, he just couldn't forget the feeling of that magic caressing his skin.
And so the evening ended. Disappointingly for the Malfoys, while the Dursleys were quite pleased. They could almost see their social status increasing as people would see them in such a restaurant, and how well their son behaved, never realizing that the people who saw them pitied the Malfoys for being in public with them. They never noticed the looks of disdain they were receiving throughout the night.
Malfoy Manor
"Father, are all muggles like that?" asked Draco when they returned home.
"I have not had much opportunity to interact with many muggles, but they seem a relatively good representation of the muggles, yes," responded Lucius.
"Their manners were terrible!" Draco commented.
"Yes, well, it is my understanding that they do not follow such strict standards for behavior as we utilize, my dragon," Narcissa interjected.
"It is something of a deterrent to working with them as they are unaware of the standards of behavior to which we are accustomed." Lucius sat in his preferred chair in the drawing room, snapping his fingers for a brandy from one of their house elves. "But there are so many of them, it is worth the discomfort in order to make money from them, Draco."
"Of course," Draco nodded, sitting near his mother on the settee. "But father, I thought you said there would be magic?"
"No, Draco, your father said that there might be magic. We explained how we felt something when in their home, you remember?" Narcissa clarified.
"Yes, Mother."
"Well, it appears that whatever gave us that feeling was not present at this dinner," Lucius responded. "We will have to return to their residence and see if we can feel the same thing or anything new."
"What about your Aura sight, Father? Could you not see anything with it?" Draco questioned curiously.
"In all honesty, I had not anticipated feeling such a thing in a muggle neighborhood. By the time we noticed it as something strong enough to possibly be something I could see, we were not in a position to look around their entire home to discern the source. And when I utilized it this evening, I saw nothing at all."
"It was an unexpected occurrence. I certainly didn't have any indication of there being enough magic anywhere nearby to have required the use of your sight, Lucius," Narcissa commented.
"But how would something strong enough to feel not be present? Isn't magic everywhere?" Draco asked somewhat petulantly. He didn't understand how something could be strong enough to be felt, but not felt equally the whole time. Never having been exposed to muggles or how magic coalesced or dissipated in non-magical environments, he was quite confused by the situation.
"Yes, son," Lucius explained patiently, "in Diagon Alley, or any of the wizarding areas, magic is everywhere. The population of wixen and magical creatures is high enough in these places that the shed magic both from the general magical shed of those with magic engaging in everyday living, active household wards, and from the magical residue from active casting remains gathered. It is a similar situation with Malfoy Manor. We are magical, we own magical creatures, and we are comfortable here, so our excess magic and casting residue stays and saturates our environs."
"Malfoy Manor has been with the family for nearly the full 28 generations, and nearly all of them have lived in the manor for at least some portion of their lives," Narcissa added. "Over 1,000 years of the family's magic has gathered in this specific location. It is why our home has a touch of sentience, similar to Hogwarts. Of course Hogwarts, with the presence of so many magical children and powerful teachers has more sentience than any other building or construct in our world, but it is all due to residual magic concentration."
Lucius took up the explanation again, "In non-magical areas, however, that excess magic doesn't have anything to concentrate around. So after a while, anywhere from seconds, to a few hours, depending on the strength of the wixen or creature in question, the magic will dissipate. The fact that we felt nothing on entry, and more as we were leaving, is cause for some intrigue."
"Naturally, we would not have been sensing our own magical excess, as we are familiar with our own magic, and it would not have caused the type of reaction we experienced," Narcissa continued.
"So when did you feel it exactly?" Draco pressed.
"Well," Lucius paused in thought, glancing to Narcissa for confirmation as he continued," I thought I felt something when Mrs. Dursley brought in the hors d'oeuvres, but it was so slight, I thought it perhaps a draught, or some other quirk of the muggle home, and dismissed it as unimportant."
"Hmm," Narcissa pondered. "I did not notice anything then, but with your sight, even when not active, you feel so much more than I."
"But for certain we felt something at the starter." Lucius stated with surety. "It was definitely a tingle across my skin, and definitely magical in nature. I believe we exchanged glances when that occurred, my dear?"
"Indeed we did, Lucius," Narcissa confirmed. "The soup was decent at least, and the salad fresh, if a little plain, and I remember being rather surprised to feel anything at all in what had, up to that point, been a particularly mundane home. "
"And then the prickles at the main course. Definitely stronger, still not enough to activate my aura sight, but certainly more noticeable," Lucius continued their progress through the meal.
"Oh yes, it was momentarily uncomfortable, even for me with my limited magic sense," Narcissa replied.
"But the dessert," Lucius nearly groaned at the remembrance. "It was like a wave of magic caressing my skin. I've never felt anything like it. I did activate the sight then, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Of course with the way the food disappeared into the black holes which function as mouths for those two...gentlemen…" Lucius trailed off, a look of disgust marring his handsome features.
"I know what you mean, dear. The amount of food consumed by those two, well, it was obscene," Narcissa agreed. "But the magic was definitely strongest at the dessert."
"It was their house elf!" Draco exclaimed excitedly.
"This was not house elf magic, nor could a house elf generate the kind of power we felt," Lucius disagreed.
"Well…" Draco thought, "a servant then."
"Possibly, but then why would Petunia serve everything rather than have the help do so?" Narcissa questioned. "And where on earth would they have housed a servant? That house was barely large enough for them!"
"And the cupboard. As we were leaving, that cupboard across from the parlor," Lucius sneered the word," was radiating magic. It certainly wasn't before, when we arrived, or I would have felt it then. We walked past it into the parlour, and I definitely didn't notice it until we were leaving."
"House elf…" Draco singsonged. "They love small spaces, like cupboards."
"Dragon, darling, there was no house elf magic in that home. You know your father would have noticed that immediately, and we would not be discussing the strange occurrences."
"Fine," Draco pouted. "But it has to be a servant of some kind, otherwise you would have felt the magic with something other than the food."
"You're probably right, son," Lucius consoled his son, taking a sip of his drink. "We'll just have to get another invitation to their home, and try to locate the source then."
"Off to bed, my dragon, it's late," Narcissa said, opening her arms for a hug.
"Good night Mother, Father," Draco said as he dashed from Narcissa to Lucius for hugs, before running off to bed.
Chapter 2 Notes
Sorrel Restaurant is a real restaurant near Surrey, England, though I do not believe it was in existence at the time I portray it in this story. I have never been to England, and therefore cannot give any sort of recommendation as to the restaurant, but I found it on TripAdvisor, and the website is included here for any who are interested. .uk/