Chapter 7—Christmas at Malfoy Manor
"Last minute change of plans," I told Parvati, who had come to see me off. "Mum and Dad absolutely insisted that I return home for Christmas—something about upholding the family traditions." Disentangling myself from her tight embrace, I scurried off towards the Hogwarts Express, clutching my bag tightly. Only when I was inside a safely locked compartment did I relax, dropping onto a soft seat with a sigh. The whole 'going home for Christmas' thing was a sham, fabricated so that I could sneak off to stay with the Malfoys without any awkward questions being asked. Truth be told, I was anxious about the task at hand. The less intelligent Death Eaters like Macnair respected me because of Father, but Lucius Malfoy… I honestly couldn't tell, and that unnerved me. He had been deferential enough at our last meeting, but probably only due to the fact that Father had been presiding over our discussion. I could tell that he thought I was far too young to be my father's main helper. This was true, but having a high-ranking member openly doubt me was not helping my reputation or my confidence. And now, I had to spend one and a half weeks in close quarters with him and his foul little snob of a son, Draco Malfoy. Merlin knows how I was going to survive it.
Before I knew it, the train had arrived at Platform 9 and ¾. Groups of students disembarked from the train, exchanging goodbyes and leaving with their parents. I, however, hid behind a thick, sturdy pillar, waiting for the crowd to disperse. When all of them were gone, I removed all my glamour charms and headed over to the pillar at the far end of the train station. I tapped it gently twice with my wand and held my breath, waiting. Slowly but surely, the reddish-brown bricks slid apart to reveal a slimy boot. Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I picked it up gingerly and promptly experienced a jerking sensation behind the navel.
Thump! I landed on a patch of bright green grass. Slightly disoriented and confused, I looked around me. Where on earth was Lucius Malfoy? As though to answer that question, there was a gentle pop beside me and a man with sleek blond hair and a perpetually smug expression appeared beside me. "Ah, there you are, " he said. "I do apologise for the inconvenience. Narcissa is entertaining guests in the parlour and we thought it safer that you did not Portkey directly into the Manor."
Dusting myself off, I rose and replied sharply, "What business could be more important than that of the Dark Lord? " He turned a rather nasty shade of green and I secretly rejoiced at having scared him. After all, as Machiavelli said, safer to be feared than loved. In any case, I had no desire for Malfoy's affection.
"I… we didn't want them to come visit today, but they insisted on doing so. I am very sorry for this. It won't happen again." He was practically falling over himself to apologise. I nodded and said brusquely, "All right, then. If something like this happens again, make no mistake, my father will hear about it. Let's go now, there's no time to lose." He nodded and reached out, gripping my arm firmly. To my surprise, I experienced a sensation of being squeezed through an immensely tight vacuum.
Seconds later, I found myself sitting on a large, soft bed in a handsomely furnished bedroom, which was at least five times bigger than the one I had at home with the Muggles. The walls were covered with painting of various eminent purebloods, and all the furniture was made of highly polished teak. Silver and green hangings filled the room. "Welcome to our humble abode," Malfoy said, bowing ever so slightly. Praises and awed exclamations nearly fell out of my mouth, but I stopped them just in time. No need to make myself look like a country bumpkin. "It is… adequate, I suppose. Kindly leave me alone for a while, I would like to rest. It has been a long journey. " Malfoy looked astonished, but quickly did as he was told.
Once he was gone, I flopped onto the fluffy pillows and let out a heartfelt groan. It was going to be a very, very long, Christmas holiday.
I sat in a rigid and uncomfortable wooden chair at the Malfoys' dinner table, fidgeting nervously and trying very hard to be discreet about it. Although I was a pureblood with Black and Gaunt blood, I had, due to unfortunate circumstances, been brought up by Muggles—and not very affluent ones at that. As a result, I had no knowledge about proper dining etiquette, and I was paying dearly for it. All three Malfoys were calmly cutting up their food and eating it, looking extremely elegant—the very picture of pureblood wealth. I, on the other hand, was struggling to use the cutlery. Why did the blasted things have to be so slippery and heavy? And what on earth were all those little forks and spoons used for? After I dropped my fork thrice and used the dessertspoon for the salad, I decided that enough was enough.
"Excuse me, but I'm feeling rather peaky," I informed my hosts. "I think I need a little lie-down." With that, I set down my knife and fork and fled the room as fast as I could without actually running. As I left, I overheard the youngest Malfoy saying, "Goodness, Mother! Did you see that? She had no idea how to eat like a lady! How could the Dark Lord's daughter act like she was raised by Weasleys?"
"Shh!" Narcissa hissed in consternation. "She might be listening!" I was listening, but I was too humiliated to go back in there and argue with any of them. All I wanted was to escape to my room hide in there until the holidays were over.
The next morning, I was rudely awakened by something jumping up and down on my bed and poking at me with long, bony fingers. "Miss Riddle needs to get up now!" it cried. "Master Lucius is sayings Miss Riddle is havings many things to be doings today!" When I rolled over and ignored the intruder, it gave me a particularly painful jab in the ribs.
"All right, all right, I'm up!" I crawled out of bed, still slightly groggy. Standing before me was the ugliest creature I had ever seen. It had large bat-like ears from which enormous quantities of dirty hair sprouted. "Kreacher is sorry to be disturbings Miss Riddle, but Miss Riddle's father is here, and he is wishings to see Miss Riddle soon. He be in the drawing room with Master Malfoy. And Kreacher is supposed to be givings Miss Riddle this paper, from Master and Mistress." He handed me a pristine parchment pamphlet. The cover read: Formal Dining Etiquette. A flush of heat crept slowly across my face. Had I been that obvious?
Still trying to gather my scattered wits, I accepted the pamphlet from the elf. What was it you were supposed to say to get rid of them? "You are dismissed," I said, trying to sound as cold and disdainful as possible. "And next time, wake me by calling my name. Do not poke me again or there will be consequences." The creature nodded, bowing and scraping. "Yes, Miss. Kreacher understands, Miss. It won't happen again Miss. Kreacher be leaving now." There was a loud crack and the elf vanished.
Half an hour later, I emerged into the elaborately decorated drawing room. Once inside, I breathed a small sigh of relief and the oppressive feeling that had been weighing me down since my arrival lifted. Father was sitting in the finest seat in the room, a large, comfortable armchair with thick rugs under his feet while Malfoy was perched on a velvet footstool with his head inclined ever so slightly, listening intently to what Father had to say. Narcissa Malfoy and her son were nowhere in sight. This suited me—Narcissa's sharp, piercing eyes slid constantly from person to person, seeing straight into their souls, and her effortless grace made me feel like a clumsy oaf. As for Draco, the thought that I was actually his cousin made me shudder. The Malfoys when combined intimidated me, but Lucius alone I could deal with, especially with Father present.
As though he could hear my thoughts, Father looked up and said, "Bella. How nice of you to join us. Sit down—"—here he indicated the small chair beside him, "and we shall be ready to proceed with today's discussion."
Once I was settled, he began to speak. Both Malfoy and I paid him utmost attention, not daring to move a muscle. "As you both know, the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries has been the centre of my attention this year. Based on knowledge gleaned from various sources, I found out that it might hold the key to killing Potter. However, I cannot touch it, and the same goes for the Ministry wizards. These are the floor plans of the Department." He pulled a thick stack of parchments seemingly out of thin air. They were covered with intricate diagrams, complete with detailed labels written in spidery, elegant handwriting.
"I believe," Father continued, "that Potter is the only one who can touch the prophecy. Therefore, we must find a way to lure him into the Department of Mysteries and use him to take it. That is your task for this week. I shall be leaving now; many things are waiting to be done."
"But…but my Lord," protested an alarmed Lucius, "how on earth shall we do that? Potter is protected by Dumbledore! How will we get past him?"
Father's eyes flashed dangerously, the first sign of danger for him. "That, Lucius, is up to you to find out. Do not disappoint me, for I am entrusting you with the most important task any Death Eater has had so far." He Disapparated in a swirl of midnight-black robes.
Malfoy turned to me. I saw on his face the despairing look of a man who had been cornered and had no way of getting out of the sticky situation he was in. In spite of myself, I felt sorry for him. Dumbledore acted like a barmy old codger most of the time, but stealing his golden boy from right under his nose was going to be a Herculean task. And if Lucius failed to deliver, he would be punished most severely.
"Well, well, Princess," he said with a resigned sigh, "I suppose we will have to find a way to work this out." I frowned a little at the use of the name. I hated it. Princess sounded so insubstantial, as though I would float away at any moment. Besides, I knew I was no princess, but I also knew that if I let the Death Eaters call me Belladonna, they would have even less respect for me than they currently did. Weakness, they would call it. Unable to command respect. Not like Mother at all, who demanded to be called "my lady" and Cruciated anyone who refused to do so.
"So…" he continued, "the Dark Lord said you had some interesting news about Potter. Pray tell."
Five days and eleven plans later, we still were not getting anywhere. We had thought up various schemes to snatch Potter from Hogwarts, but all had to be axed because they were completely unfeasible. Flying a Thestral to the school and yanking Potter out of the window (my first plan) was quickly thrown out of the window, because the teachers and Potter's cronies would somehow manage to stop us before we had even left school grounds. Imperiusing Potter and dragging him out of the school (Malfoy's first plan) would not work either, since a) someone would certainly notice and b) Potter was particularly gifted at resisting the Imperius Curse.
Malfoy let out a frustrated groan and ran his fingers through his silky blond hair. "This is not working," he growled under his breath. I sighed to myself. He was completely right. We had only two days left, and we were nowhere near coming up with a good plan. The thought of Father's return to the Manor on Sunday made my blood run cold. Sure, Malfoy would bear the brunt of the punishment, but I was sure to be in hot soup too. This was partially my responsibility after all.
The door swung open soundlessly and Narcissa Malfoy came sweeping in, today clad in robes of royal purple. She wrinkled her brow slightly at her husband, who was currently sitting with his head in his hands. "What's the matter, Lucius?" she inquired.
"What do you think?! I only have two days left, and I still can't think of a way to get Potter out of school without Dumbledore noticing! And even if I do, there's still that sodding Order of the Phoenix to worry about!" At the mention of the Order, Narcissa's eyes suddenly went as wide as saucers.
"Wait here," she announced breathlessly. "I think I may have just the thing you need." She then dashed out of the room, leaving us bemused. Several minutes later, she returned with that house-elf who woke me on my first morning here in tow.
"This is Kreacher," she declared. "He lived in the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters for a while, but after Sirius yelled at him to get out, he came here." At this, Malfoy perked up considerably. "Tell us all you know about the Order," he commanded. Kreacher gazed up at him balefully. "Kreacher cannot say," it croaked. "Master Black commanded Kreacher not to speak the Order's secrets. Kreacher loathes Master Black, oh yes, the scum, but Kreacher must not disobey."
Malfoy let out a piteous groan, slumping forward onto the table. "Oh for Merlin's sake," snapped Narcissa. "Do comport yourself with more decorum."
"I'd like to see you do better," he retorted. I eyed the bickering Malfoys with mild distaste and amusement. I'd always thought them to be poised and elegant, never flustered even in the most trying of circumstances. They were, however, only human.
"Fine!" Narcissa shot back, stung by her husband's scathing tone. "Kreacher, dear," he said in a saccharine-sweet tone, "I was a Black before I married. I command you to ignore Sirius Black's orders and tell me all their secrets. There. Better?"
"Kreacher is most sorry," said the elf, bowing so low that its nose bumped against the marble floor, "but Kreacher belongs to Master Black and Kreacher cannot disobey Master's direct orders."
While they were talking, I was frantically dissecting Kreacher's words in my mind, searching for a loophole. There had to be one somewhere. Black was a classic Gryffindor, brash, unlikely to take precautions and have back-up plans.
"Kreacher," I began slowly, taking care not to overwhelm the elf, "You said your Master expressly forbade you from telling the Order's secrets. But surely there must be something trivial, unimportant, that you can tell us."
The elf shuffled its feet nervously. "Miss Riddle is sly indeed. But will Kreacher give Miss Riddle what she wants? Shall Kreacher betray his Master? Oh, yes, Kreacher would love to see Master get what he deserves, but Master is a Black, and Kreacher serves the Blacks, only the Blacks…"
"Listen, Kreacher," I said hurriedly, "this is very important. With the information you have, we will be able to cleanse the world of those filthy Muggles, Mudbloods and bloodtraitors once and for all. Wouldn't you like that?"
There was a long pause. The air was pregnant with tension. Beside me, Lucius and Narcissa held their breaths. At long last, the elf replied hesitantly. "The Potter brat loves Master very much. It would do anything for Master."
"Love!" squawked Malfoy (who was too far gone to act like his usual pureblood self by now), flapping his hands melodramatically. "How is that going to help us?" I too was incredibly disappointed. There was nothing we could do with our new knowledge.
Turning to Narcissa, I was surprised to see a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Oh, no, no, my dear Lucius," she spoke slowly, a lazy smirk spreading across her face. "Love is the most dangerous weapon of all. Lean in and listen close; I think I've got a plan."
"And so," Malfoy concluded, unfolding the last schematic with a flourish, "this is where Black will be in the projection. Potter will likely come in from that entrance over there, and we will be waiting for him amongst the shelves of prophecies." I stood a little off to the side, scowling. As usual, Malfoy took credit for everything. Narcissa Malfoy was the one who had concocted the plan and I had weaseled the necessary information out of the house-elf, but it sounded like Malfoy had done the whole task all by himself. Typical. To be honest, I had liked him a lot more while he had been down in the dumps.
"All right, then. That's all very well—I'm sure Potter will want to play the little hero as usual. However, what if the Mudblood decides to be rational and tells him to contact Black first? What, then, Lucius? Have you thought of that?" Malfoy looked taken aback. Before he had a chance to say anything, I jumped in, "I can fix that, Father. I'll tell Kreacher to find a way to head his master off so that when Potter makes a Floo call, Black will be safely out of the way and Kreacher can lie about Black's whereabouts."
Father looked at me appraisingly, cold snake eyes travelling up and down. My mouth went dry and my breath hitched in my throat. Had I said something wrong? After a few seconds, however, he nodded. Turning to the door, he called, "Kreacher!" The house-elf came hurrying into the room, this time bowing so low that its entire face was squashed against the tiled floor.
"I presume you have been made aware of the plan regarding Potter. You are to distract Black at the designated time and date. Make sure he is away from the fireplace. Take the Floo call instead and tell Potter he is in the Department of Mysteries, and that he will not be coming back. Is that clear?"
"Yes, my Lord. Kreacher shall attack his pet, yes, that will draw him away from the downstairs room," croaked the elf. Father nodded in satisfaction and gave a small flick of his hand, dismissing all three of us.
Sitting safe and sound in the Hogwarts Express, I finally let a huge, goofy grin spread all over my face. I had survived a whole week with the Malfoys and made it out with my sanity intact! And, better still, we had actually managed to work together to come up with a plan to steal the prophecy. With it, Father would be able to finish off Potter once and for all. I still had another horribly difficult task waiting for me, but that didn't matter for now. Instead, I filled my head with thoughts of Seamus—thoughts that I had repressed while around Father and Malfoy for fear of them finding out about my crush. It was such a relief to be back at Hogwarts—no more complicated scheming and plotting, no need to always appear domineering and sharp. It was a reprieve to be able to pretend that I was a normal girl, though I knew it wouldn't last forever.