Chapter 14
That afternoon, Mithrael, Harry, Sirius, and Remus sat in Albus Dumbledore's office discussing the return of Voldemort.
"We have found the ritual we believe he will use to come back," Mithrael said, handing the parchment to the headmaster. "We can do nothing about the other items he will need, but if we could find the grave of his father, we could at least remove the bones."
Albus read over the ritual, then nodded. "The bones would have to be destroyed," he said. "We can't risk his finding them. Are you sure this is the ritual he'll use?"
"There are two others, but both require him to possess the body of a dead Wizard. We have learned that Voldemort fears death and will not touch anything dead, so we believe that the other rituals would be repulsive to him."
"They would, but if it is the only way, he might disregard his revulsion."
"He might," Mithrael said. "But not until he realizes that his first attempt has failed. That would give us more time."
Albus nodded. "I agree."
"We should do this immediately," Mithrael said. "We cannot allow him to retrieve the bones before we have destroyed them. But we must find the grave of his father."
"I've been to his father's grave," Albus said. "It's in the family graveyard at Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton."
"Then, we must go tonight," Mithrael said.
Albus nodded. "We'll go at a time when it's least likely we'll be discovered." He looked at Remus. "The moon is nearly full tonight, just another two days. We'll go at midnight."
The others agreed.
"We will meet you near the half-giant's hut at half past eleven," Mithrael said.
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Dinner at the Malfoy table that evening was the most unpleasant that Draco had ever experienced. His mother was angry that he had told Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott that he was part Elf, and his parents had been arguing ever since.
"You knew what I was before you married me!" his father shouted.
"Yes, but you agreed to keep it secret. Your father never told anyone about his relationship with your mother. Everyone thought that his wife was your real mother. If my family ever found out . . ."
"Your family is dead, Narcissa, except for your sister who is married to a Muggle-born and your cousin who turned his back on the Black family."
"Bella is not dead!"
"She's been in Azkaban for 11 years. She may as well be dead."
"All our friends . . ."
"We don't have friends, Narcissa. We have acquaintances that you can barely tolerate."
"I don't want them turning their noses up at me for marrying a half-blood."
"But you did marry a half-blood!"
She threw a crystal water goblet at him, ran upstairs, and locked herself in her room.
Fortunately for him, Lucius had seen it coming and had dodged the goblet. He sighed and looked at his son. "Happy now?"
Draco shook his head. "I'm sorry, Father. I didn't mean to cause problems between you and Mother."
"Draco, what possessed you to tell your friends that you were part Elf?"
Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just didn't want to lie about who I am, Father." He looked at his father, his expression begging him to understand. "I don't want to pretend to be something I'm not. I'm proud of being part Elf. I wish . . . I wish you were proud of it, too."
Lucius sighed. "I am proud of it, Draco, it's just . . ." He shook his head. "Draco, I've had to lie about who I was all my life. My father was a pureblood Wizard who was ashamed to have an Elven son. And, yet, because I was his only heir, he took me from my mother and raised me as a Wizard."
"Why?" Draco asked. "If Grandfather hated Elves so badly, why did he have a child by her?"
"I don't know, Draco. He may have loved her once," he said. "When he was a young man, he was injured in a duel and left for dead in the forest behind the manor. My mother found him and nursed him back to health. By the time he recovered, they had become lovers. Of course, his parents had already arranged a marriage for him, so even though he knew she was carrying a child, he couldn't marry her, so he left.
"After two years of marriage, they discovered that my stepmother couldn't bear children, so he went to my mother and asked her to allow him to take me back to the Wizarding world. She agreed, but I was only to stay half a year in the Wizarding world. I was to spend the other half in the Elven Realm. My father agreed to the arrangement, and that is the way it was for eight years. Then, a year before I was to go to Hogwarts, he refused to allow me to go back, so she came for me. He tried to send her away, but she refused to leave without me. He locked her in the dungeon and starved her to death. I tried to help her by sneaking food down to her, and once I even tried to steal the key to her cell, but he caught me and beat me until I couldn't move. Even then, when Aunt Thespa came to our house, I tried to sneak her into the dungeon, but again I was caught. My father beat me so badly that I almost died. By the time I recovered, my mother was dead.
"After she died, he told me that I was no longer an Elf, and that I was never to tell anyone that I was not a pureblood Wizard. People were to believe that my stepmother was my mother, and if I did not do as he said, he would do to me what he did to my mother."
"You must have hated him," Draco said.
Lucius nodded. "And, yet, I became just like him."
Draco frowned. "Why do say that, Father? You're not at all like him."
Lucius pushed up the left sleeve of his robe, exposing the dark mark. "I became as bigoted as he was," he said. "Only more so. At least, he never became a Death Eater."
"But you were under the Imperius."
His father shook his head. "I joined the Dark Lord to prove myself to my father, but he died before I could tell him what I had done." He laughed mirthlessly. "And then I was stuck following a madman until he was vanquished by a baby. When questioned, I told the Wizengamot that I had been under the Imperius curse so that I wouldn't have to go to Azkaban."
"Does Mother know?"
He nodded. "She knew all along, but she kept my secret. Of course, she was never a Death Eater, Draco. She hated the Dark Lord."
"I'm sorry, Father."
"You have nothing to be sorry for, son. It is I who should be apologizing to you, but I can't, Draco, because I know that you would forgive me, and I don't deserve your forgiveness."
Draco stood up and went to his father. After a brief moment of hesitation, he leaned down and hugged him for the first time since he was a small child. "You have it anyway, Father," he said, then released him and sat down beside him. "That's why Mother's so angry, isn't it? She's not concerned about being snubbed. She's afraid the Dark Lord will come back and find out that you're a half blood and kill you for it, isn't she?"
Lucius nodded. "It's not just me. He will kill us all, Draco, because he will see me as a traitor and want to punish me before he kills me. He'll do it by making me watch him torture and then murder my family."
"I could tell Pansy and Nott that I lied," he said.
His father shook his head. "It's too late for that. The best we can do is to try to find a way to prevent him from coming back."
"Is that possible?"
"The Elves are looking for a solution. They believe it is possible."
Draco sighed. "I hope they find one."
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Harry had never been afraid of death. Elves rarely died, but he knew that his parents had, and he had watched Professor Quirrell become nothing but a pile of ashes. Yet, he was not afraid of crossing into the Summerland where he would live with his parents and others who had crossed over.
He had never been afraid of ghosts. Elves did not tell stories of ghosts or monsters in the circle, so he had never seen one until he entered Hogwarts or even heard of their existence. The ghosts were friendly, except for the mischievous poltergeist named Peeves, but even he was not scary.
And, yet, when the headmaster opened the squeaky iron gate that led into the Riddle graveyard, Harry felt a chill run down his spine and the hair rise on the back of his neck. Above the fog that covered the ground, strange statues stood guarding the grave. Skeletal figures in hooded robes holding long-handled sickles loomed over them.
"What are those creatures?" he asked, pointing to one of the figures.
"It is the Muggle's representation of Death," Dumbledore said.
Harry moved closer to his father. "It's not very comforting, is it?"
"No, it is not," Dumbledore answered. "But it's human nature to fear the unknown, and many people fear death because they don't know what happens afterward. However, I have always thought of it as the next great adventure. I see no reason to fear it."
At last, they came to the grave of Tom Riddle. Harry wondered how they were going to remove the bones since none of them had brought shovels. His question was soon answered.
Dumbledore whipped out his wand and waved it over the grave. The dirt rose into the air, and then landed in a neat pile beside the open grave. Harry looked down into the grave and saw a metal coffin.
Dumbledore waved his wand again, and the coffin rose from the grave and settled gently in the graveyard. Another wave opened the coffin lid and a final one banished the remains of Tom Riddle.
"Where did it go?" Harry asked.
"Into oblivion, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Into nothingness. The remains of Tom Riddle no longer exist."
Mithrael wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders. "Yet his soul has not been affected," he said. "It remains free and happy in the Summerland."
Harry smiled at his father, and Dumbledore gave his wand a few more waves, closing the coffin, setting it back into the grave, restoring the dirt, and putting the grass in order so that no one could tell that the grave had been disturbed. "There, now. I think that should do it," he said.
Suddenly, a light appeared in the distance. The movement of the lantern made it obvious that someone was walking toward them. "You there!" an old man shouted. "What are you doing here?"
"I think it is time to take our leave," Dumbledore said. "I'll meet you outside the gates of Hogwarts." He took Harry's arm and disapparated them. Remus grabbed Mithrael, and they disappeared from the graveyard.
"What's going on here?" the caretaker asked, approaching Sirius. "Where are the others?"
"There's nothing going on here," Sirius said. "We're just ghosts." He disapparated, leaving the Muggle caretaker shaking with fright.
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Rather than return home so late at night, Harry and his father spent the night with Remus and Sirius. Instead of sharing the bed in Harry's room, they took blankets downstairs and slept on the floor in front of the fire. Harry knew he would have to get used to a bed again, once he returned to school, but for now, he enjoyed the comfort of the floor.
At breakfast, Sirius regaled them with his version of the caretaker's meeting with the ghost. It was nothing like what actually happened, but Sirius's exaggeration made for a very good story.
After breakfast, Harry and his father arrived at the Burrow to ask if Ron could spend a few days in the Elven Realm. Mrs. Weasley finally relented, and Ron followed the Elves through the portal. Unlike Draco, he did not need a few days to adjust. For Ron, it was an adventure unparalleled by anything he had experienced before. He loved bathing in the river, sleeping in the tent, and roaming the magical forest. He loved the rides on the hippogriffs and trying his hand at the sling and bow. He enjoyed hunting with Harry and Mithrael, but his favorite part was after supper when everyone gathered to hear the stories. This was the part that reminded him of home. When the week was over, it was with reluctance that Ron returned to the Burrow for the last week of summer.
Harry spent the last week at home near his parents. He would miss them, even though he looked forward to another year at Hogwarts. But three and a half months was a long time to be away from the love and comfort of home.