Chapter 36 – The Room of Hidden Things

The next morning Harry got up early. Much earlier than normal for a day without classes at any rate, ahead of third rounds – and potentially the finals – of the Pariturium's singles tournament. On a whim, Harry checked the noticeboard in the Entrance Hall as he made his way up from the dungeons before breakfast. With a bit of luck, the fixtures for the third round would have been posted. The noticeboard had all the usual sorts of things on it – notes about tutoring, requests to borrow brooms – but that late in the year the noticeboard was quite sparse, and Harry found Flitwick's posting very quickly.

The first Novice duel was between Harry and a girl from Beauxbatons. A bit later was Draco's duel with a girl from Durmstrang. That meant Harry wouldn't get to face off against Draco until the finals, assuming they both got there.

But Harry could deal with that.

Harry stood staring at the board for a few more moments before making his way into the Great Hall for breakfast. It was empty save for a handful of students at each of the four tables, a mixture of those from Hogwarts and some from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Harry saw a couple of people he knew at the Slytherin table but sat at the far end of the table on his own for a bit of time to think. He had a big day and didn't want to waste too much time on unnecessary pleasantries.

Harry helped himself to some cornflakes and a goblet full of water while he mulled over his matchup against the girl from Beauxbatons. She had to have been decent enough to get to the semi-finals. As good as Harry was, at least in theory. He'd have to ask Tracey whether she had any notes on her. But even without that, Harry was confident he could win against her. He was good enough. He'd won the doubles with Tracey. No, the third round was simple enough.

The main problem would be the finals. Although there was technically the possibility that Draco wouldn't get through, Harry didn't think that would happen. He was too good at duelling. So the finals was likely to be between Harry and Draco, since Harry had no intention of getting knocked out in the third round.

The last time Harry and Draco had duelled one another in a formal setting, Draco had won. That had been months ago, of course. Weeks before they had started the competition proper, and Harry had done rather a lot of practise since. But Draco had avoided being matched against Harry during any of Flitwick's training sessions since that first duel, and Harry wondered whether he'd done enough to beat Draco that time. Harry had won more matches than Draco had by virtue of being in the doubles tournament with Tracey. The doubles tournament he and Tracey had won. But the singles and the doubles were different beasts, required different approaches, and with how Draco had been over the course of the year...

Harry looked up as someone sat at the bench next to him. It was Draco.

"You've seen the matchups?" Harry asked. "We'll see each other in the finals if we win in the third."

"I saw," said Draco. He looked pale – far paler than usual, his skin an almost grey pallor and quite unlike his ordinary fair complexion – with big, dark bags under his eyes. He certainly didn't look ready for a duel, let alone two. "I'll win, I'm sure."

To Harry's ear he didn't sound sure. He seemed tired. Underprepared. Stressed, even. None of that ways Harry's problem, but he would have preferred to win against Draco at the top of his game.

Draco picked at some toast.

"Of course you will," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I'm abysmal at duelling—it's not like I've won six official duels over this tournament. Four with Tracey and two on my own. It's a wonder I even made it to this point with how bad I am at the sport. Might as well quit now. Hand in my wand, even."

"Tracey carried you through the doubles," said Draco dismissively, although the jibe lacked venom. "And you only got so far in the singles because you haven't had to face me."

"If you lose to that girl from Durmstrang I won't even have the chance," Harry said. "Maybe it's better that way—at least you won't have to be embarrassed when I trounce you."

"Someone's confident," Draco said. "You're no good without someone to hide behind, you know that. I'll wipe the floor with you and take home the gold."

This was more the Draco Harry was used to. Someone who could actually give back a little banter, someone actually present in the room. He wasn't pleasant, but normal Draco was manageable. Draco still looked stressed, and more than a little tired, but it was something approaching the Draco Harry remembered from first year.

But what did that mean? Was he done with whatever he'd been doing in the secret room? Was Harry too late?

"You are good," said Harry, "and I can admit that because I know I'm better. But you won't be going home with the trophy today, because..."

Harry stopped talking because Draco clearly wasn't listening. So much for a more normal interaction. Draco was instead staring at the doors out to the Entrance Hall, eating his toast mechanically with a glazed over look in his eyes.

Harry waved his hand in front of Draco's face.

"Oi. Are you alright?"

"What?" snapped Draco. Harry caught a flash of… of something in his eyes. Not the superficial anger he'd responded with, but something deeper. Something Harry didn't recognise. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Er, it's just that you don't really seem to be... you don't seem quite like ... yourself," said Harry. "You were alright and then you just zoned out. Nerves?"

"As if." Draco sniffed. "I think I've lost my appetite. I'll see you in the finals," he said, and rose from the bench.

As he did so, he knocked against Harry's arm, and a sharp pain blossomed in Harry's scar as Draco stomped away. The pain disappeared as quickly as it came, but the memory of it remained.

Harry rubbed at his scar while he watched Draco go. Harry considered getting up to follow him, but in the end let Draco go. They would see each other later in the arena, after all, and Harry didn't want to be accused of anything ahead of their bout.

And really, if Draco was going anywhere interesting, it was the secret room, and Harry already knew where that was. Short of asking Draco how to get in, Harry was still stuck outside.

So Harry stayed sat on his bench at the Slytherin table and helped himself to some bread, sausages, and bacon to make himself a sandwich. Harry ate the sandwich and then still feeling hungry, put together a reasonably large breakfast after Draco left, keen to give himself the energy for his duelling later but without wanting to be weighed down overly much. But a good breakfast would set him up for the day, or least that was what Vernon always claimed, and Vernon had never been one to turn down a good breakfast so Harry assumed he knew what he was talking about in that regard.

As the morning grew later and even the late risers began to attend breakfast, the Great Hall began to fill up with students from all four Houses and the visiting schools – and Harry wished he'd left before half the school filtered in. Instead a selection of Harry's friends and Housemates sat down around him, and he got stuck where he was.

"Ooh, good morning!" said Tracey as she sat down. "I bet you're excited about the singles later! You could even face Draco in the finals, did you see? I'm sure you can win; you've done so much practise..."

"I, er—" Harry started to say, but was interrupted by Blaise.

"Draco's been really good so far—honestly, better than I'd have thought he would be," Blaise said as he helped himself to breakfast, "but I reckon you can win. As long as you don't get scared by his snake conjuring—he does like that little trick—I think you can win. And I'd prefer for you to win than him. So try and win."

"Yeah, I was actually—"

"Harry can definitely win," Theodore said, "but it might come down to points. I've been looking through Draco's other matches—I did an arithmantic analysis actually—and he's as good at resisting the Disarming Charm as you are, Harry, so you might find it hard to get him out before the duel goes to time."

Harry had been thinking much the same thing, although he hadn't expected Theodore to go to such lengths as doing an arithmantic analysis. But Harry did think that he could Disarm Draco with the right sort of distraction, or through the proper combination of spells, so...

"I agree," Harry said. "So I was thinking that—"

"Oh, Harry doesn't need to bother with all that, arithmantic analysis and all that bollocks. He can just trounce Draco the good old fashioned way. Can't you Harry?" said Millicent, taking a rare moment away from Daphne to interject something into the conversation.

"I think so, but—"

"Actually I think Theodore is on the right track," said Tracey. "You're both really good at keeping hold of your wand, so—"

"I know!" said Harry. "I know! I know! I know!" He'd had more than enough advice, commentary, and any other little bits and pieces people wanted to say to him, especially as nobody seemed to want to know what Harry thought about the upcoming duel. "I know, alright?" Harry said again, quieter this time and a little bit less aggravated. "I've got a plan for the duel. I know how to deal with Draco. And I might not even have to face him in the finals. Not if he doesn't win his third round match. So just… I know."

"Don't get your robes all in a knot," said Blaise. "We were only trying to help."

"I—" That took the wind out of Harry's sails a bit. He knew his friends just wanted to help, just wanted to do something useful ahead of the match, so it wasn't fair to get snippy. But it was also frustrating to be told a series of things and never get any chance to reply. "That's fair enough. But I really do have a plan for the duel. I promise. But I've got to get past that girl from Beauxbatons first, haven't I..."

Draco was also his final problem whether or not Harry managed to win the duel, whether nor they made it to the finals of the Pariturium. There was still the matter of whatever it was that Draco was doing on the seventh floor and how it was connected to his strange behaviour all year, and even the odd circumstances surrounding his family.

Even the way Draco's touch had prompted pain in Harry's scar. That was definitely not normal.

"That's a good point," said Tracey a few moments later. "You know I did have something to say about those girls, but I get your point—you know what you're doing. We all trust you. We just want you to win!"

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, all of you," Harry said. "Er—I'm going to go and get ready. There's not much time left before the match and I need to get changed and I think my aunt and uncle will be coming 'round again too, so..." Harry shrugged. "See you after I win!"

Harry got up from the table and left. He headed back to the dungeons to get ready for the bout, and then spent the rest of the morning with his aunt, uncle, and Sirius wandering around the castle and grounds.

When it was time for the duellists to gather ahead of the third round Harry left his family and Sirius to wait in the Entrance Hall for Flitwick to come and escort them to the arena. Only a handful of aspirants from Hogwarts had progressed to the third round – Harry, one of the Weasley twins, and Draco. None of Hogwarts's Juniors had made it through, which Harry thought quite unfortunate.

But although the Weasley – and Harry thought it might have been Fred, but could just as easily have been George – was ready and waiting, Draco was nowhere to be seen. Harry hadn't seen him since breakfast, at least, even though his parents had come to meet with him. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had ended up lurking about in front of the castle before slinking off back to Hogsmeade, not having seen Draco.

Another snubbing to add to the list. Another question Harry wanted answered … after the Pariturium finished.

"Good luck, Potter," said Weasley. "I'd rather you win than Malfoy, so give it a proper go."

"You know, you're not the first person to say that to me today," said Harry with a wry little smile. "But thanks."

It wasn't so surprising that people didn't want Draco to win, though. Harry knew Draco wasn't especially popular outside of Slytherin, and even inside the House he had his detractors. Not for no reason, of course.

"I hope you take it in the finals," Harry said to Weasley. "Your brother won one of the flying events, didn't he? So I beat you're itching to win something, too."

Weasley grinned.

"He did, yeah. Figured out how to tell us apart, then?"

Harry smiled.

"Nah. I just guessed, to be honest with you."

Weasley laughed, and looked set to say something else, but stopped when Flitwick entered the Entrance Hall from the Great Hall.

"Just the two of you?" Flitwick asked, looking around for Draco. "No Mr Malfoy? Harry, you haven't seen him today, have you? In the dormitories or the Common Room, perhaps?"

"Er—no, Professor. Well, I did see him at breakfast, but not since then... He didn't say where he was going."

Harry did think he knew where Draco was. The seventh floor and its secret room. Whether Flitwick knew of the room's existence or not, or how to enter it if he did, Harry didn't think it was the right time to say about it. And Flitwick probably wasn't the right person to tell anyway. If anyone needed to know, it was Dumbledore, but Harry didn't feel ready to bring that to him yet either – for all that Harry felt it wasn't, it could end up being a silly little schoolboy thing rather than having anything to do with Voldemort.

Maybe after the finals Harry could confront Draco, ask him directly. And if he couldn't… then it was time to go to Dumbledore.

"Hmm," said Flitwick. "And you don't have any idea where he might be? No?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, we'll have to get on anyway. Mr Malfoy knows where to be and where we are, and perhaps I will have a bit of time ahead of his match to locate him!" Flitwick said. "We'd best be moving on."

Flitwick led the two boys down towards the duelling arena and got them settled inside the waiting area while he attended to the last-minute bits and pieces required by the organisers. Harry checked the order of duels first thing, just to get an idea of what he had waiting for him.

His duel was right in the middle of the morning's matches. As Harry had thought, the organisers had sandwiched the Novice duels between the – admittedly more exciting – Junior bouts, so there would be a bit of sitting about watching.

Ordinarily that wouldn't have suited Harry, but as Draco was nowhere to be seen and Harry didn't want him to forfeit his own match, it would do. Harry paced about the largely empty room while he waited for Draco to arrive, but stopped when the Junior duels began and Draco still hadn't got there.

Fortunately, Draco arrived just as the Junior bout ended. He slipped into the room without so much as a hello, and sat himself down on his own, far enough from Fred Weasley and Harry that it was clearly a snub.

But Harry could worry about that later.

"Your duel is next," Fred said. "Good luck—hope you smash it!"

"Thanks," Harry said. He got up and walked along the tunnel to the staging area where Flitwick was already waiting.

"Marvellous!" Flitwick said once Harry had arrived. "Good luck, Harry—though I'm sure you don't need it!"

"Thanks, Professor."

Once up in the main arena Harry let the sights and sounds wash over him. It was much the same as it had been the day before for the doubles: a sea of people, loud, and with Bagman providing the commentary. Nothing new there. The only difference was that Tracey wasn't stood next to him. The whole thing was down to Harry, and Harry alone.

"Enchanters and enchantresses, this is the first of our second year Novice bouts for the day!" Bagman said. "You'll have seen our competitor from Hogwarts, Harry Potter, throughout the competition—in the doubles duelling, the singles, and in the Aerobaticum. Potter of course won the second year Novice doubles yesterday with his partner, Tracey Davis, and will be hoping to win the singles title today. But he'll have stiff competition in the form of Mathilde Durand of Beauxbatons. Durand of course didn't participate in the doubles competition, but by no means…"

Harry focused his attention on Mathilde Durand instead of Bagman. He would be talking for some time still, and Harry wanted to study his opponent a bit more.

Not that it did him any good. Durand looked quite plain. Neither pretty nor ugly, she was of only medium height and didn't look especially dangerous either. She just looked like an average witch. Like anyone Harry might see around the castle.

But unlike anyone else, she'd made it to the semi-finals of the Pariturium. Harry remembered only a handful of details about her prior duels: she was good with charms, didn't seem to get flustered easily. But there were only two duels to go on. She would certainly have a lot more information on Harry, as Harry had gone through the doubles as well. So he would need to be cautious.

Bagman counted them in. Harry bowed, then stepped to the side immediately as Durand shot off a spell.

Quick hand, Harry thought. So that was something to watch.

Harry stepped forward, thrust out his wand.

"Flipendo!"

Durand slipped out of the way. Harry's spell hit the Shield Charm around the arena.

Willing to move, Harry thought. That was… something. He could work with that. Harry peppered her with Knockbacks to create a bit more distance, add on some points, and thought about what to do next. He'd had some success with the Levitation Combo in the doubles, so that was an option here, too. Without Tracey to cast the Banishing Charm it would be a bit harder, but should still be manageable.

Something to consider for later in the duel.

Harry swished his wand and started the motions for a Pumpkin Head Sequence, but fumbled it. Staggered backwards as a powerful wind swept across the arena with Durand as its epicentre.

Durand didn't stop. She kept casting, sending waves of wind in different directions throughout the arena. Wind that would cause a problem for Harry, especially if he decided to conjure bees.

Harry shook himself off. The wind was a distraction. Something to get Harry thinking about how to counter it, so that Durand could make a proper attack. So Harry needed to cut through the middle and go right to the attack instead.

"Furnunculus!" Harry said, sweeping his wand in the motion. Then, without waiting, followed it up with a Jelly-Legs Jinx to go for the combo. "Locomotor wibbly!" Both spells hit, and writhing tentacles sprouted all over Durand's face.

Nice, Harry thought. If he could just get in one more spell—

Harry froze where he stood, wand in hand, watching Durand. She still had tentacles all over her face but they hardly seemed to bother her. At least, not enough to stop her from responding. But Harry's limbs hadn't stiffened. He wasn't petrified, just… immobilised. The Freezing Charm, then. Milder than a petrification, and something that would wear off soon enough. So what was the point of that?

If all Harry had to do was wait it out, why would Durand have bothered—

Durand struck Harry with a multitude of charms in quick succession. A sequence of Colour Change Charms on his robes, his hair, his glasses. Nudging Charms.

Finished up with a Confetti Charm just as the Freezing Charm expired and Harry could move again.

That was annoying. A whole load of points given while Harry stood there doing literally nothing. Well, it wouldn't matter if he ended the duel in Disarmament.

Harry ducked to avoid a spell from Durand, then hit back with a Stinging Jinx. Stepped into a Knockback Hex. Durand stumbled backwards, knocked off balance by Harry's Knockback Hex.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry missed. His Knockback had been too powerful. The spell went wide, and as Harry recalibrated, Durand shot at him with a powerful jet of water. Not hard enough to send him stumbled backwards, but annoying. And more than enough water to get him soaking wet. Enough to win Durand points, too.

Annoying.

But by then Harry reckoned he had a good grasp of Durand's strategy for the duel. She wanted it to run to time so she could win on points. And if Harry could disarm her, it would probably work.

Time to change tack, then, Harry thought. No more playing about. He had to go in for the kill. Figuratively speaking.

"Levioso!" Harry said, thrusting forward with his wand. Durand dodged it. "Incarcerous! Flipendo! Furnunculus!"

Thick ropes shot out of his wand and wrapped around Durand, bringing her to an abrupt stop. She thudded to the arena floor, which meant the other two spells missed.

But that was unimportant.

"Expelliarmus!"

The spell hit. Durand's wand went nowhere.

Harry sighed. She was literally tied up and on the ground, and she still kept her wand? Now that was annoying.

One more go at it, then…

"Levioso!"

Unable to dodge – or do anything other than wriggle about on the ground – the spell struck Durand and she rose into the air and floated off. Harry let her go for a few moments and then cast his Disarming Charm again.

As Durand rose higher into the arena, her wand dropped to the ground.

There. He'd done it – Harry had secured himself a place in the finals. This time as a singles duellist. Just one more duel and he could clinch the win. It felt good.

Harry stuck around to be seen by the healers, then to speak with the press for a few moments, but eventually made his way back to the waiting area with Fred and Draco – thankfully, all dried out. He sat down next to Fred to watch Draco's duel – and the last of the Junior duels before the finals.

Draco won his third round duel. Unsurprisingly, as far as Harry was concerned. Harry had watched it keenly, studiously hoping to gain a few last bits of insight into Draco's style and tactics that might help in the finals. But after the last of the third round Junior bouts, it was time for lunch, and Harry grudgingly put thoughts of his duel out of his mind to sit down with Fred, Flitwick, and Draco to eat lunch.

Flitwick had rather a lot to say, especially as all three of Hogwarts's hopefuls had progressed to the finals in their respective categories. He seemed eager to offer any last lingering pieces of advice that might help them all secure the win, and Harry was grateful.

Not that Draco really participated in conversation. He sat there picking at his food, barely even responding to direct comments from Flitwick. Near the end of the allotted time for lunch Flitwick disappeared to check on the fixtures for the finals and left Harry, Fred, and Draco alone.

"You know, I really think we can do this," Fred said to Harry. He seemed happy enough to simply ignore Draco, pretend he wasn't there. Ordinarily, Harry would be happy to do the same… but Harry had to fight him to secure the win. And then he still had to figure out what was up on the seventh floor. "What do you reckon?"

"Er—yeah, I do," Harry said. "You've done really well all through the competition. I've got to admit, when you first started I thought your strategy was bollocks—just a load of nuisance spells—but it works. I actually used some of your spells myself in the doubles…"

Fred grinned.

"Not just a pretty face, see. What a lot of people don't understand is—" Fred said, although he didn't finish, and Harry didn't get to learn what a lot of people didn't understand. "Flitwick's updated the board with our fixtures, look!"

And true enough, Flitwick had. The board showing the order of bouts for the finals had been updated, and Harry's bout was second. Fred's was third. The first and last events of the finals had been set as the Junior bouts, although Harry had expected that.

"Not bad," Harry said. "I can handle being second up." He turned to Draco. "What do you think? Second's not bad, is it?"

Silence for a few moments.

"It could be worse," Draco said. None of his usual fire. He seemed a bit nervous.

Well, good, Harry thought. He deserved to be because Harry was going to win the duel. Harry had a response prepared, but Draco had already gone back to flicking through a book he'd brought along with him. A clear dismissal.

Harry shrugged and went back to chatting with Fred as the spectators returned to the arena. It wasn't too long to wait, and although he could have gone over and over his tactics in his head, Harry didn't want to. He wanted to enjoy himself. So Harry settled in to watch the first of the Junior duels for the finals.

Midway through, near enough to the end of the duel, Draco got up and left the waiting room. Took his book with him, said nothing at all to either Fred or Harry.

Harry watched him go. If Draco left, and didn't come back, he'd forfeit the match.

It wasn't that he cared whether Draco attended the duel. It was more that Harry wanted to win on the merit of actually having won, rather than because his opponent had failed to participate.

"I wouldn't have thought Malfoy the type to skip," said Weasley. It was phrased as a statement, but Harry knew it was really a question.

Harry shrugged.

"Neither would I," he said. Harry still didn't think Draco was intending to skip the duel – nothing he'd said or done indicated he was prepared to forfeit or give up his chance at the title. Draco had been distracted and odd over the whole year, but he had still spent a lot of time talking about and preparing for the duelling tournament.

Despite that he'd got up and left the arena not long before his final bout.

"You really are a prick, Draco," Harry muttered to himself. He sighed, got up, and then motioned to Fred. "I think I know where he's gone," Harry said. "I'm going to go get him before he gets too far… and listen, if I don't come back in time… grab Dumbledore." Harry left before Fred could protest.

Harry headed out of the duelling arena through the competitors' door at the back to avoid the officials. Harry vaguely remembered Flitwick having said that in the event of a no-show, the officials would give it fifteen minutes before declaring the match void, so he wasn't overly worried he couldn't nip up and back again. Draco hadn't been gone long, and Harry thought he could catch up. It was mere moments between them leaving.

Harry raced up the path to the castle – empty, even given the nice day, because everyone else was at the duelling – and inside the castle through the wicket gate set into the grand Entrance Hall doors. Once inside the cool Entrance Hall Harry paused to look around just in case Draco was there.

But he wasn't. He'd raced ahead, and Harry was alone. Their bout had started by then, and with neither of them there…

A problem for later. He still had fifteen minutes.

Moments later a hand grabbed his shoulder, and Harry spun around to see Lucius Malfoy stood behind him. Harry jerked away and out of the older man's grip.

"When Draco stopped writing home, I knew then that something had gone awry," Malfoy said. "And when neither of you made it to the duel I understood a little more of your involvement in this sorry affair. You can thank your little friend, Theodore, for that—or his letters home, at any rate."

Malfoy checked his nails, dusted down the front of his silky robes.

"So, Potter. Tell me—you are looking for my son, yes? Well, so am I. I expect that you know where he is, but not how to open the door?" Malfoy didn't wait for an answer. "I find myself in the opposite predicament—I know not the location of the room, but I do know the secret to its opening. Together we will find Draco, yes?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said immediately, although he knew it was a pointless objection. Malfoy clearly had some sort of information – gained from Theodore of all people – about Harry's activities that year, and Harry had assumed anyway that he knew what Draco was up to. He'd even been waiting for an opportunity to accost Harry, had seized it as soon as Harry and Draco failed to turn up for the duel.

But it couldn't do him much good, since Fred would be grabbing Dumbledore at any moment. And once that happened, Tracey and Ernie would tell him everything important so all Harry had to do was stall.

"Oh, come now," said Malfoy. "In this, I am not an enemy of yours, you should understand. I fear Draco has come to some harm in the completion of a ... task ... he has been given, and as a loving father I wish only to see to the safety of my son. I give you my word that I will not harm you if you take me to where Draco is. I will open the door, and with any luck we shall both get what we want. How does that sound?"

Malfoy spoke like a bored aristocrat, his manner genteel and tone polite, but he held his wand in a vice-like grip and stared at Harry with eyes of hard steel. Harry didn't think Malfoy would try anything too aggressive in the middle of Hogwarts during the day, and even though Harry could resist the Imperius Curse, there were other ways of making someone do what they didn't want to do.

So Harry nodded.

"Alright, then. Follow me."

As much as Harry didn't want to be anywhere near Lucius Malfoy, he didn't see that he had any other choice. If he were lucky, a stray teacher, apprentice, or ghost would happen upon them and let someone – Dumbledore, perhaps – know where he was and who he was with. And there was always Fred and the instruction Harry had given him.

"So your Lord didn't tell you everything you wanted to know, then?" asked Harry, fishing, as he led Malfoy up the grand staircase. It was a risk to mention Voldemort so openly, but given the circumstances... "Or Draco, I imagine. Everything on a need to know basis, and neither of you needed to know?"

"You are cleverer than my son credits you with, Potter," said Malfoy. "Although not nearly as clever as you think you are. You have become embroiled in a family argument, nothing more and nothing less."

"Yeah, and my aunt goes hippogriff riding every weekend. Wormtail and Voldemort found you, then? And you didn't turn them away?"

Malfoy didn't answer. Instead he prodded Harry with his wand – gently, but firmly enough for Harry to remember which of them was a fully qualified wizard with criminal tendencies and which of them was not.

"I knew something was up with Draco all year," Harry said, "although I couldn't figure out what. But it does have something to do with Voldemort, doesn't it? The only problem is, Draco hasn't been doing anything. At least not anything anyone has noticed. Even me, and I've been checking. And because of how you've been acting this year, too, I think something must have gone wrong. I'm right, aren't I?" Harry skipped the disappearing step and then paused. "Whatever it was Draco was meant to do, he hasn't managed it, and now you're afraid. What was it?"

"What a creative mind you have, Potter. Truly, you are quite imaginative! I am merely worried because my son has failed to attend a very prestigious event which he has been excited about for months. And you, of course, as my son's friend and Housemate who knows where he is, put aside your own aspirations to help me find him," Malfoy said. "Admirable."

"Look, you're going to have to tell me something, or I just won't show you where you've got to go," Harry said. "Only one of us really cares what happens to Draco, and it isn't me."

That gave Malfoy a little pause. Moments later he jabbed his wand at Harry.

"Imperio."

An expanding, light, floating sensation spread throughout Harry's chest, and his head went empty. He felt relaxed, as if he had no care in the world. But Harry had experienced the Imperius Curse before, from Moody, and had successfully resisted it. Lucius Malfoy was no match for the ex-Auror, and Harry knew he could throw off his attempt at mind-control easily enough. But he waited, gave no indication the spell had failed. Waited for Malfoy's instruction.

Take me to the Room of Hidden Things, commanded Malfoy into Harry's mind.

Harry shook off the Curse and turned to grin at Malfoy. He hadn't known the room's name, and perhaps that was part of the key to opening it... Walk past it three times and think its name, maybe?

Harry wondered if he even needed Malfoy to open the room's door now that Harry had the name of the room.

"Only if you ask nicely," Harry said, turning to look at Malfoy. Harry had his wand in hand, and although he didn't know nearly as many spells as the older wizard, he did have rather a lot of practise in getting them off quickly. If he could figure out what the Malfoys were up to, and then get free to find some help, it was possible Harry could salvage the whole sorry mess. And Malfoy didn't know how to enter the room, so if Harry could grab Dumbledore…

"That little trick won't work. We can go to the Room of Hidden Things together, and you'll answer some of my questions ... or we won't go at all," Harry said. He shrugged. "I told you already—only one of us cares about what happens to Draco, and this seems urgent."

Harry watched the indecision play out across Malfoy's face. The elder wizard clearly really did care about Draco in addition to whatever it was that was so important inside the Room of Hidden Things. Perhaps cared more about Draco than that, although Harry couldn't really tell. Harry knew he'd agree to answering something of Harry's questions just to be shown the location of the room.

Harry just had to make sure they were answers with a bit of truth in them.

"So," Harry said, not even considering moving until Malfoy answered his question, "Draco. He was supposed to find something in this Room of Hidden Things. I reckon he's found it—but he never told you—and you're worried. But why?"

Malfoy flared his nostrils and frowned.

"There may have been a ... disagreement ... over Draco's suitability for such a task," Malfoy said eventually.

"The thing is dangerous, then," Harry said. He started moving again, aware that Malfoy would only be so patient with him. "Voldemort made you agree to it anyway. I don't know how, because he's a weird little ghost-thing, but he managed it. And whatever it was you were worried about, it's probably happened. Or at least something like it."

Malfoy said nothing, but the curl of his lips told Harry he was right.

They'd made it to the third floor by then, although they hadn't seen a single soul – whether living or dead. Unsurprising given the event, but… unfortunate.

Harry knew that Malfoy would try to incapacitate him as soon as he knew where the room was. It was the smart thing to do, to remove any chance of Harry getting away before he'd finished what he was up to, and to prevent Harry from figuring out what the task Draco had been given by Voldemort was. But Harry could prepare for it and, even if he didn't have the full arsenal of spells at his disposal, should be able defend himself in some way. As Harry took Malfoy further up the castle towards the tapestry of the dancing trolls on the seventh floor, he considered his options.

Malfoy would want to Obliviate Harry. It was the sensible thing to do, now that he'd more or less admitted he was working for Voldemort. If Harry could pry some more information from Malfoy he would need to remember it for it to be of any use at all to Dumbledore, who would surely like to know it. But knowing that Malfoy would be intending to Obliviate him, perhaps he would be more inclined to let things slip.

"Voldemort's at your house, isn't he?" Harry asked. "That's why Theodore wasn't allowed over there all summer. Does Draco know, or was it meant to be a secret?"

Malfoy didn't answer immediately. After a few moments, he spoke.

"We have many guests. Some more ... discreet ... than others. I do not know how it works amongst muggles, Potter, but in good wizarding families it is considered improper for children to know all the activities of their parents."

So Voldemort was there, and Draco wasn't supposed to know about that. Whether or not Draco did know was another thing entirely, of course. But then how did Draco know both the location and the key to the room, if his father only knew how to open it?

Wormtail, Harry thought. Sirius would be happy to know that Wormtail was back in the country and, if Harry was right, settled into Malfoy Manor with Voldemort and the entire Malfoy family. He doubted Voldemort would cast Wormtail aside so quickly, not with how fickle Malfoy had been at the end of the last War, and certainly not with Voldemort still a pitiful ghost-like thing.

Whatever Draco's meant to be looking for, I reckon it's to give Voldemort a body again. Harry didn't think that Voldemort would want to hang around as a ghost for too much longer, and given that he'd reached out to his followers, he must have some sort of plan for getting a new body. If there was something useful hidden in the Room of Hidden Things – which given its name seemed likely – Draco would be an easy way of getting access to it.

Harry kept hoping that someone – a teacher, a ghost, a student who'd simply refused to go to the duelling – would happen upon them, but nobody did. Instead Harry had to lead Malfoy up through the castle towards the Room of Hidden Things, and not a single soul saw them on their way. When Harry finally made it to the seventh floor he realised that he would need to figure out how to keep Malfoy from stunning and Obliviating him and making off with Draco and whatever object he'd been asked to find.

"We're nearly at the room," Harry said. "How do you open the door?"

"Not clever enough to figure it out, then?" Malfoy asked, mouth curled into a sneer.

"Clever enough to ask for confirmation, more like," Harry said. He assumed the key to the room was walking past its entrance three times and either supplying it with a password, or asking it specifically for the room by name. Sirius's book had given a similar scenario as an example of one of the kinds of ways of sealing a room against intruders. But the problem with that was that there were still so many possible passwords, and many possible tricks to opening the room, that Harry didn't want to be left guessing.

Especially when he didn't need to be stuck guessing, since Lucius Malfoy knew how to access the room.

Malfoy hesitated.

"You must simply know the name of the room, and it will open," he said eventually.

That's a lie, thought Harry. Or a half-life, at least – Draco always walked past the door three times whenever he opened it. Not once had Harry seen him do it any more times, and never under three. So Harry assumed the real key was to walk past the room thrice thinking about the room by name.

"Alright. You go ahead first, then," Harry said when they reached the seventh floor corridor. "The door is in here." Harry gestured vaguely at the corridor. There was absolutely no way he was going to walk through the corridor in front of Lucius Malfoy. If Malfoy wanted the door open, he could walk the corridor himself and open it.

And it would possibly give Harry an opening for a body-bind, or something of that sort.

Malfoy hesitated at the threshold to the corridor, clearly as untrusting of Harry as Harry was of him.

"We will go together," Malfoy said, and stayed put.

Fair enough, Harry thought. I was planning on shooting him in the back...

Harry shrugged, and attempted to inject every ounce of nonchalance he had in him into the gesture. Then he fell into place beside Malfoy as they walked through the corridor.

"Where is the door?" Malfoy asked once they'd got halfway along.

"It's here. Open it and see," Harry said.

Malfoy frowned but started walking again. Harry followed him, and sure enough, Malfoy walked the corridor three times following the same path Harry had been doing for weeks without success. Harry kept pace with him, and on the third go, a door appeared in the middle of the wall.

Malfoy turned to Harry, wand in hand, but Harry was faster.

"Flipendo!" Harry said. He knew the Knockback Hex. He could cast it in his sleep, probably. And he'd been waiting for Malfoy to strike.

Malfoy got knocked backwards and Harry took his chance to dash inside the Room of Hidden Things.