Chapter 5
Keeping Secrets
A few hours prior to this, Harry and Ron had arrived at Malfoy Manor, seeking out their oldest rival. The Mad-Eyes had been left behind; antagonising Malfoy would likely be counterproductive. To their chagrin, however, they had scarcely reached the Manor's ominous gates when they were stopped in their tracks by a diminutive and pitiful-looking house elf.
"Apologies sirs, but Master Malfoy will see no visitors today," he said. Then, recognizing Harry, he gave a squeak of excitement. "H-Harry Potter! To think that old Gamby would ever see the day! It is such an honour, sir!"
"No one ever recognizes me..." Ron muttered.
"Couldn't you make an exception?" Harry asked the house elf. "We're here on very important business." But Gamby shook his head dramatically, long ears flailing.
"No, no sir. Master Malfoy will see no visitors today," he repeated fervently.
"Gamby, it is very important that we speak with Malfoy!" Harry said, strengthening his voice, but not raising it. It had been many years since Harry has ever raised his voice to a house elf, and he didn't plan on breaking the streak. "Countless lives are at stake!" Gamby's eyes began to water, and his voice began to quiver with distress.
"Please Harry Potter, ask this no more! Master Malfoy does not wish to see anyone at all today! He...he..." Gamby hesitated, unsure if he was allowed to speak the truth in this matter, even knowing that it would likely result in the two unwelcome visitors leaving his master alone. "Mr. Malfoy is sick, very sick indeed."
"Malfoy's sick?" Ron blurted out. Gamby shook his head again.
"Not my master; Master's father."
"Lucius? What's wrong with him?" Ron questioned, perplexed.
"A great sadness has brought sickness to his heart," Gamby said. "The death of Mrs. Malfoy has brought such emptiness to his life...oh I weep for his sorrow!"
"I sure as hell don't," Ron muttered, but Harry nudged him hard.
"And that is not all that ails poor Mr. Malfoy," Gamby continued, almost in tears now. "Some great torment disturbs his sleep. He struggles in vain against the grip of terrible nightmares. And my poor master can do nothing for him! It brings him such grief to watch his father waste away." A horrible thought suddenly occurred to Harry.
"Wait, Gamby, are you going to have to punish yourself for telling me this?" Memories of Dobby's self-inflicted punishments flashed before his eyes.
"Gamby does not think so. Master Malfoy has not forbidden Gamby to speak of such things, so Gamby has done nothing wrong."
"Good, good. We'll be going now," Harry said.
"We will?" Ron queried.
"Yes. But Gamby, could you tell Mr. Malfoy that we wanted to speak with him?" Gamby smiled, and jumped up and down with excitement.
"Master Malfoy will be delighted to know that the famous Harry Potter wishes to speak with him!"
"Somehow I doubt that," Ron said. "Thanks Gamby."
With no other leads to follow, the two wizards returned to the Auror Office.
"Well, that was a bloody waste of time," Ron said scowling...a scowl that deepened when he realized that Harry wasn't really paying attention to him.
"I wonder what's wrong with Lucius," Harry said to himself.
"Maybe he's just getting old," Ron said dismissively, collapsing into a halfway-comfortable chair while Harry continued to pace. "Or maybe Malfoy's poisoning him. Wouldn't that be something?" he chuckled.
"Or maybe he's the new host," Harry said, coming to a stop in front of Ron, who looked up at him incredulously. "Think about it: if you were a Death Eater, wouldn't you prefer a pure-blooded host? Stubbs was a pure-blood. And a mysterious illness..."
"You're right!" Ron burst out, jumping up from the chair. "If he's dying, it could be because of the side-effects of possession! I mean, the bugger's not the youngest guy anyways, and with the life-shortening effects of possession..."
"But it doesn't help us all that much," Harry cut him off. "Even if he is being possessed, it doesn't get us any closer to finding the Horcrux. Voldemort certainly didn't keep his with him."
"But it's a start, isn't it?" Harry pondered this for a moment.
"Either way, we have to get inside Malfoy Manor. I'll need to take a look at Lucius to see if he's possessed or not, and if Malfoy's collecting Death Eater memorabilia, it's possible that he's managed to get his hands on the Horcrux."
"Maybe that's why the disembodied soul chose Lucius," Hermione said. Yes, Hermione. The two wizards spun to face the door, realizing only then that Hermione Granger (Ron's wife and Harry's old friend) was standing in the doorway to Harry's office. "You left the door open," she told him, "so I let myself in." She went over to Ron, kissing him on the cheek before sitting down on a chair beside him.
"You're welcome here any time, you know that," Harry reminded her with a smile. "So what were you saying?"
"Just an idea. It's possible that the detached soul was drawn to its other half. That might add to the possibility of the Horcrux being at Malfoy Manor," she said. "Whoever made it probably knew Lucius in life."
"I bet it's a bloke," Ron commented. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What? The two victims were both male. If it were me, I'd want bodies that were...you know, the same as what I was used to."
"Good point," Harry said, actually impressed with the insight that he had missed. "In any case, I think we're all in agreement about one thing: we've got to get inside Malfoy Manor."
"Yes," Hermione agreed, "but how?" No one spoke even a single suggestion for a very long minute.
By amazing coincidence, however, their answer came to them at that very moment, in the form of a small paper airplane that flew through the open door, and nearly poked Ron in the eye.
"Ouch!" He grabbed the airplane, rubbing his eye in irritation, and handed it to Harry. "Your office, it should be for you." Harry opened the airplane, and read the short memo written on it aloud.
"To Harry Potter, Auror Office. There is a call coming in for you. Please activate your fireplace." Harry pointed his wand at the lifeless hearth. "Incendio!" Bright flickering flames appeared instantly, and soon turned green as a rather sour-looking head appeared within them. Hermione closed the office door with a flick of her wand. "Yes?" Harry questioned the man, whom he had never seen before.
"I bring a message from my employer, Mr. Malfoy. He requests your company at dinner tonight at six o'clock sharp," the man said rather stiffly.
"Requests our presence?" Ron said in disbelief. "He's got some nerve! As if was his own bloody idea..."
"Not you, Mr. Weasley," the man said. His mouth pursed as he said the name, as if the words left a bitter taste on his tongue. "Mr. Malfoy wishes to dine with Mr. Potter...and only Mr. Potter."
"Well he can forget about that!" Ron shot back. "I'm the Deputy Head of the Auror Office!"
"So?" the obnoxious man in the fireplace said. "This is not an official matter. Mr. Malfoy simply wishes to dine with his old friend. I doubt that a contingent of Aurors is necessary." Ron was clearly about to fire back, but Hermione shot him a look, and he reluctantly yielded the floor to her.
"Well, it's so lucky then that you got through to all of us!" she said, putting on a great show of delight. "Draco will be so happy if we show up as well! We were such great friends..." She trailed off, realizing that the standoffish messenger was not buying her act at all.
Throughout this, Harry remained silent, weighing his options. He certainly didn't want to take Ron to dinner with Malfoy, and Hermione, being Muggle-born, would probably have a very unpleasant time; Malfoy would see to that. And, of course, there was the fact that Hermione had been brutally tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange the last time she'd set foot inside Malfoy Manor. On the other hand, he mused, he would likely have no opportunity to search the Manor if he went alone. If Ron and Hermione accompanied him, one of them could make some excuse to leave the table and look for the Horcrux. Finally, he spoke, knowing that his word would be final.
"I'm not going without them." The messenger scowled, muttered something about informing Malfoy, and disappeared.
"What does Malfoy want with us?" Ron wondered.
"I guess we'll find out at six," Harry said, sounding distant and lost in his own thoughts.
When six o'clock finally rolled around, the trio arrived at Malfoy Manor, dressed as fancily as possible in order to avoid Malfoy's scorn. They were escorted inside by a butler with as sour an expression as the messenger, and Harry found himself wondering whether Malfoy employed anyone with the ability to smile. Once inside, he couldn't help but marvel at how bright the place seemed. The shadow of Voldemort seemed to have been banished from the house, an observation that made Harry significantly more optimistic about the outcome of this evening.
Malfoy, always dressed to impress, joined them shortly in the massive and ornately-decorated dining room, accompanied by his wife Astoria. The attractive but icy-looking woman was new to Ron and Hermione, but Harry had met her previously. In fact, he had been introduced to her at her wedding, which he had attended in order to publicly show that his feud with Malfoy was over. Everyone exchanged pleasantries, but Ron and Malfoy did not shake hands, and eyed one another with poorly-disguised contempt. That feud was clearly far from over.
When Malfoy invited them to sit down, Harry noticed that, curiously enough, he did not take the seat at the head of the table. Interpreting this as either a courteous invitation or a bizarre challenge, Harry took the seat himself. Malfoy looked at him with a strange but intense expression that Harry could not read at first...but then, he realized that he was sitting where Voldemort would have sat when he occupied the house. For reasons he couldn't even explain to himself, this thought was so repulsive to him that he vacated the seat, and instead took the seat directly across from Malfoy. He suspected that the head of the table would be empty forever, and it occurred to him that, at last, he had something in common with his old enemy: just as Harry's body and soul had been tainted by Voldemort, so had Malfoy's home. No wonder he lit so many candles to banish the darkness.
Food arrived shortly, and as with everything else in the Manor, it was fancy, fine, and very good. Ron immediately began stuffing his face, much to Malfoy and Hermione's disgust, but Harry found the idea of Ron being well-fed on Malfoy's affluence rather amusing. Hermione was hesitant to eat, knowing that the food was the product of house elf slave labour, but the scent of the food was just too tantalizing for her to resists for long. Throughout the meal, Hermione chatted happily with Astoria; the two seemed to be old friends after only a few minutes, and this did much to reduce the awkwardness of the meal.
Once everyone had eaten their fill...even Ron...Malfoy and Harry retired to an upstairs study, while Astoria took Ron and Hermione into a fancy sitting room. Harry hoped that one of them would get the chance to take their leave and search the Manor, but Astoria did not seem like the type to be easily fooled. The study, like the other rooms in the house, was well-lit, and the walls were covered with bookshelves...odd, Harry mused, as neither Draco nor his father were renowned as bibliophiles. Perhaps there was more to the Malfoy family than met the eye.
"I know why you're here," Malfoy finally said.
"Oh, really? Why's that?" Harry countered. Malfoy smirked knowingly, and Harry got the sudden feeling that he was staring down his teenage nemesis before a Quidditch game once more.
"You're looking for the Horcrux." Harry was taken aback, and Malfoy seemed to enjoy the sight. "Come on, I read the papers, Potter. I know all about your investigation, and I know the signs of possession...or rather," he said with a smirk, "my friends at St. Mungo's do. And besides, I got a rather agitated letter from Mr. Borgin earlier today. When he told me you were asking about Death Eater memorabilia, I knew it would only be a matter of time before you came here. I'll save you the trouble of an interrogation though; I don't have what you're looking for. In fact, I don't know anything at all about this affair besides what my sources tell me."
"You don't think that there could be a Horcrux here without your knowledge?" Harry questioned him.
"I am a fairly competent wizard, you know," Malfoy reminded him. "If there were a Horcrux in my house, I would know about it."
"All right," Harry conceded. There was a momentary pause while Harry considered his next move. "What if I told you that the unbound soul responsible for the death of Stubbs was still out there?"
"That goes without saying," Malfoy replied. Harry hesitated again; he didn't like where he had to take this.
"And it would also go without saying that the soul probably belonged to a Death Eater, yes? One who learned about Horcruxes from Voldemort?"
"That would be the most likely possibility," Malfoy agreed.
"I have a theory," Harry said, "that the individual in question has a preference for pure-blooded hosts. It would be in line with Death Eater philosophies."
"Are you telling me to watch my back?" Malfoy chuckled. But both of them knew that this was not at all what Harry was saying.
"I understand that your father is quite ill," Harry said, knowing that once the words left his mouth, there was no taking them back. And judging by the darkness that came over Malfoy's face, any chance at an alliance with Malfoy might have been lost in that moment.
"I don't like what you're implying, Potter," Malfoy said.
"You can't deny –" Harry began, but Malfoy cut him off.
"I can deny whatever I like!" Malfoy snapped. "My father is not possessed! He's just...he's very sick. It happens, you know! He hasn't been himself since my mother died..." He stopped talking abruptly, probably uncomfortable with the amount of information he was giving out. Harry pressed on with his attack.
"I know the physical signs of possession. If I could take a look at him..."
"No! The healers were very clear: he's not to have any visitors but immediate family!"
"Malfoy, you can't even begin to imagine how important this is! You've got to let me take a look at your father." But Malfoy would not budge.
"If the best healers at St. Mungo's haven't told me he's possessed, then why should I take your word for it?" He bit his lip, and for a fleeting second, vulnerability crept into his eyes. "My father is dying, Potter. Let him die in peace."
There wasn't much to be said after that. The trio departed shortly after, and Harry learned that, while Ron and Hermione's impressions of Astoria had been mostly favourable, she had allowed them no opportunities to sneak away and search the house. They returned to their various offices at the Ministry, leaving Harry with nothing to do but sift through case files, his mind still at Malfoy Manor. And that's where he was when Professor McGonagall's head appeared in his fireplace, informing him that Teddy Lupin, his godson, was missing. Taking only a moment to grab Ron, Harry was at Hogwarts in seconds via Floo.
McGonagall was sitting in her office, wearing an expression of deep concern that did not fade when the two Aurors (and former students of hers) arrived in her fireplace.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts, although I wish your visit was under better circumstances," she said.
"What happened?" Harry demanded, not even bothering with a greeting.
"I'll tell you everything we know in just a moment. Andromeda is on her way." And, as soon as Ron had sat down (Harry, as usual, was pacing frantically), Andromeda Tonks, Teddy's grandmother and guardian, stepped out of the fireplace.
"What's happened? What's happened to Teddy?" she demanded, panic lacing her voice.
"Please sit down Andromeda, and try to stay calm," McGonagall said soothingly, but Harry could easily detect the worry in her voice. "I just need to...Severus, could you go fetch the Le Fanu girl?" Harry's eyes were drawn to the row of portraits that hung on the wall, each depicting a former Headmaster of Hogwarts...even Severus Snape, whose tenure was quite brief, as he had been killed by Voldemort before he had headed Hogwarts for even one full year.
"Certainly," Snape's portrait said. He regarded Harry with a look that might have been pride...might have been...and walked out of the portrait.
"Where's he going?" Ron asked.
"It turns out that they're not just limited to portraits," McGonagall told him. "Apparently, they can also move between Chocolate Frog cards."
"It was my idea, actually." Harry and Ron turned to look at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, where the voice had originated, but he appeared to be fast asleep in his armchair. Only the faintest hint of a smile on his painted face indicated that he was only pretending. Minutes passed, and Snape did not return; Andromeda had begun to wring her hands in anxiety, and Harry continued to pace. But eventually, Snape reappeared in his portrait, and moments later, a young girl who looked about fifteen walked into the room.
"This is Carmilla," McGonagall introduced her. "She transferred here from Durmstrang." She then turned to Carmilla. "Just tell them what you told me." Carmilla walked into the centre of the room, undoubtedly painfully aware of all the eyes on her. Strangely enough, she showed no surprise at the sight of Harry, and did not seem intimidated at all...a welcome change for him.
"I was in the Ravenclaw common room this evening," she began. "It was just starting to get dark. It was just lucky really; I was looking out the window when I saw Teddy Lupin, running away from the school. And I thought that was a bit odd, so I kept watching, and I saw him go past Hagrid's hut and into the Forbidden Forest."
"How do you know it was Teddy?" Andromeda questioned.
"His hair was electric blue at the time," Carmilla replied dryly. For those who are unaware, Teddy Lupin was a Metamorphmagus: a wizard who could change his appearance at will.
"Wait..." Harry said suspiciously. "How could you possibly identify Teddy from the window of the Ravenclaw Tower? There's no way you could see that far!" McGonagall gave Harry a strange look, but then nodded.
"Right, of course..." she muttered. "You'll have to take my word for it, Mr. Potter, but Miss Le Fanu's testimony is quite reliable." Harry raised an eyebrow, but left it at that. "Go on," she told the strange girl.
"Well..." Carmilla continued. "I was a little worried, so I grabbed a couple of the first-year Gryffindors and asked them about it. Everybody knows about him, but no one really knows him...well, aside from who his parents are. Apparently he's already a minor celebrity...but then, he is the son of Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin, so that was to be expected," she mused. Harry's trained eyes caught Andromeda's slight flinch at the mention of Lupin's name. Odd...
"Did they know anything about why he ran away?" Harry asked, although a sinking feeling was settling into his stomach; he had a feeling that he knew what had gone wrong, and Andromeda's shifting eyes seemed to confirm his theory.
"Sort of," Carmilla said cautiously. "I mean...they didn't exactly come out and say it, but they knew. They knew what set him off."
"Which was...what?" Ron asked, clearly unaware that he was the only one in the room now who didn't know the answer.
"As soon as he got here," Carmilla said, "everyone wanted to talk to him about his famous parents. Especially his father." It was another couple of heartbeats before realization dawned on Ron.
"Bloody hell..." he said, turning to Andromeda. "You never told him, did you?"
"What were you thinking?" Harry demanded, rounding on her. "How could you not tell him? How long did you think you could lie to him?"
"Damn it!" she snapped back. "How was I supposed to tell a child that his father was a werewolf?" Her hands began to shake as she spoke. "He was always so young...too young. Too young to understand."
"You should have at least told him before he came here!" Harry insisted. "Finding out from his classmates...that's the worst possible way..." The proud woman seemed to shrink into her chair when faced with Harry's accusations.
"I...I wanted to tell him before he left," she said quietly. "But...I knew he would be so angry with me. You know, for not telling him sooner. But he was so young! How could I burden him like that? He's only a child!"
Harry took a deep breath, and forced himself to calm down. He was still furious with Andromeda for her glaring lapse in judgement, but he knew he was being somewhat hypocritical. How many times in his own childhood had he wished to be free of his own burdens, his own dark past? His altercation with Andromeda had left an awkward silence in its wake, and eventually it was Carmilla who broke it, providing the final piece in the puzzle.
"It's the full moon tonight, isn't it? That's why he ran away. He thinks he's a werewolf like his father."
"But he's not!" Andromeda cried. "He's not!"
"Yes, but he doesn't know that!" Harry pointed out, still angry with Andromeda for unintentionally causing this crisis.
"The Forbidden Forest is no place for a first-year," Ron said, stating the obvious in a worried voice. "Teddy doesn't have a chance in there...we've got to find him, and fast!"
"It's been more than an hour since suppertime," McGonagall said. "We've already lost precious time. You can go now Carmilla. Please don't spread this around." Carmilla left quickly without saying a word. "Now, there isn't any time to waste," she said authoritatively, rising from her chair. "I will gather as many teachers as I can. Potter, Weasley, meet me at Hagrid's hut in fifteen minutes. We'll have to conduct a search of as much of the forest as possible." Despite being over eighty years old, McGonagall still commanded such respect among her former students that neither of them questioned her instructions. "Andromeda, you're welcome to join the search if you feel up to it."
"I'll come," she said, her voice still small and feeble-sounding. "I can't leave him out there. I'll come."
"Very well then," McGonagall said, snatching her pointed hat off her desk and placing it on her head. "Let's get moving then!"
And that, more or less, is the situation we were greeted with when we arrived at Hagrid's hut. Harry briefly outlined the situation for us, which was surprising given that any of the teachers would probably have just told us to go back inside. However, we could instantly spot a glaring flaw in their plan.
"You'll never be able to cover the entire forest with ten people!" Gordon told them. "Not fast enough anyways."
"Yeah! Let us help!" Amanda offered. McGonagall stepped forwards, regarding us suspiciously.
"Miss Watson, I do not believe that four fifth-year students will dramatically increase our chances of finding Lupin."
"Well...any more eyes we can get in the forest can't hurt," Ron pointed out.
"And besides," I jumped in, "we can handle the forest, especially after third year." McGonagall and Slughorn visibly winced; they didn't like to be reminded of that little fiasco. Suddenly, Harry spoke up excitedly.
"You're right; four students won't be much help...so let's get more!" He turned to us. "Can you four go and get as many other students as you can? Fourth-years and up, the younger ones aren't experienced enough...get as many other students as you can, and bring them back here."
"We'll organize them into search parties," Slughorn jumped in, "pair up the younger students with older, more experienced ones."
"You're suggesting that we solve our lost student problem by getting the remaining ones lost in the forest en masse?" McGonagall said sceptically.
"Sounds like a good idea to me!" Professor McLaughlin laughed. "But no, in all seriousness it would greatly increase our efficiency. Frankly, I don't think we have any real chance of finding the boy without help." After a moment of consideration, McGonagall nodded her approval.
"Go," she instructed us. "And come back as quickly as possible. The boy's been in there for an hour already. We can't afford to waste any more time."
We were unaware, of course, that throughout this entire conversation, we were being watched. No, the Forbidden Forest was no place at all for a first-year.