Sorry this is so late! Classes have begun! I'll try not to let it happen again!
Anyway, here's some more on the Malfoys. Enjoy. Review. :)
After dessert (which was delicious even if the serving was minute) the Malfoys showed Harry into a spacious sitting room, where a tray of drinks appeared at Mrs Malfoy's command, as well as a little dish of mints.
"I like that statue thing," said Harry, after he had sat down with yet another pumpkin juice. The sitting room, like the drawing room, was crowded with expensive-looking works of art, though in this room there was a little more colour.
The one he pointed out now was the figure of a man, carved from black marble, lying curled up with his arms over his head. The man's side had burst open; a vivid red wolf, its head as big as the man's whole body, was emerging, its jaws gaping as if in a yawn. It probably had some kind of deep significance, but the contrast of the wolf's white teeth against the red and the black of the statue, plus, of course, the whole concept of blood and death and hungry wolves, appealed to Harry.
Mrs Malfoy looked where he was pointing. "That 'statue thing'," she said evenly, "is an original Otto van Oorschot. 'Lycanthrogenesis,' dated 1847."
"Lycanthro…" Harry thought quickly. "Uh, something about something beginning?"
"'Birth of a Werewolf,'" said Draco; then, in an undertone, "Don't get her started…"
Harry got her started. "Who was Otto van Oorschot?" he asked.
Mrs Malfoy looked shocked. "I beg your pardon?"
"I was raised with Muggles," Harry said. "I only know like Michelangelo and Leonardo, and, and Donatello and Raphael."
"Well, your artistic palate is about to be educated," said Mr Malfoy in a very low voice, picking up a newspaper. Draco buried his head in his hands as if preparing for a torrent.
Mrs Malfoy touched Lyncanthrogenesis with one long, perfectly manicured finger. "Otto van Oorschot," she said, "is perhaps the most well-known of the Dutch masters. He was a sculptor and a painter, and extremely controversial during his time, because of his depiction of scenes and situations that other wizards dared not address…"
She seemed to be genuinely excited for the first time all evening, if the faint tinge of pink in her marble-white cheeks was any indication, so Harry listened to her. Her husband had hidden himself behind his paper, emerging only occasionally to share a look with Draco, who after about a minute stretched himself on the sofa and produced a comic book. They had obviously heard this lecture before. But Harry listened, and Mrs Malfoy explained. And explained. And explained.
She must have gone over every object of art in the room by the time Mr Malfoy glanced at his pocket watch, folded up his newspaper with a snap, and said, "I think, if we wish to make the Hogwarts Express in the morning, now would be an appropriate time to retire."
Harry's eyes had begun to cross, so he agreed heartily, as did Draco, once he'd wakened up.
"Draco, won't you show Mr Snape to his room, please?" said Mrs Malfoy. She'd lost the warmth that suffused her as she talked about her art, and was now the cold, haughty mistress of Malfoy Manor.
"And I thought all that stuff was just to show off how rich you are," said Harry as he and Draco climbed a very very long staircase up to the guest room.
Draco shrugged. "That's probably why Father lets her buy it all, but Mother's an art fanatic. I told you she forced me to take music lessons? And I can dance and all kinds of other horrible things. We hear that lecture about Dutch masters about once every other week—whenever we have company."
"It was pretty interesting, some of it. I like that werewolf thing, and the one with the fairy skeletons in it."
"Yes, well, next time, just keep your mouth shut, why don't you," said Draco amiably. "Anyway, this is your bedroom. Breakfast is at nine o'clock. We usually eat later, of course, but Mother likes to make sure I get my glass of dragon milk before I go away from her for three whole months. If you need anything, of course, one of our elves will bring it to you."
"Uh-huh," said Harry.
Ginny excused herself early from supper and slipped upstairs. The second she had her door shut safely behind her she got down on her belly, wriggled under her bed, and emerged with the dusty old diary. She checked to make sure her door was locked and then opened her book to January First and began writing with her Finesse quill.
"Dear Tom," she wrote, and then waited a minute. The ink shone on the paper for a second, then sank into the paper and disappeared, so she continued, "Harry went to the Malfoys' for dinner this evening. Ron and Mummy are worried that he won't come back but I'm sure he'll be just fine, he defeated the darkest wizard of all time twice, I know he can do anything." She waited for the diary to absorb all this, holding her breath. And sure enough, as soon as it had all disappeared, words she had never written began to appear.
Wait, back up a bit. Who's Harry?
Ginny realised she hadn't written a single word about Harry since she'd gotten this new diary. She hastened to remedy this.
"HARRY SNAPE!"
…Someone frightfully important, I take it?
"HARRY SNAPE IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THE WHOLE WIZARDING WORLD! IF NOT FOR HIM THE WORLD WOULD BE IN CHAOS AND RUINATION!"
And why is that?
"I just told you, he defeated You-Know-Who! The darkest wizard ever to be seen in this world!"
You-Know-Who? Unfortunately, I don't know who. Who?
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! Lord Voldemort!"
…Why must he not be named?
"I don't know, but he was scary and evil. He killed lots of people and tried to take over the wizarding world UNTIL HARRY SNAPE HAPPENED! You-Know-Who tried to kill him eleven years ago, nobody knows why, but the Killing Curse just REBOUNDED! It left a scar, it's shaped like lightning, it's BRILLIANT, but Harry survived!"
That's impossible.
"I know! That's why it's so brilliant!"
No, I mean that that is impossible. The Killing Curse is absolutely unavoidable. Lord Voldemort must have used something else.
"Nope! Killing Curse. Definitely. And then he DISAPPEARED! You-Know-Who, I mean. And no one's seen him since."
How?
"Nobody knows! But that's not even the best part. Last year You-Know-Who showed up again, he was possessing the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts and trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone, which is this thingy that gives you eternal life, and Harry defeated him AGAIN!"
How?!
Ginny was pleased to see that Tom was so interested.
"According to Ron, Lord Voldemort tried to kill him again and the curse rebounded again! Seems a bit silly, doesn't it, to use the same curse that snuffed you in the first place again?"
Very silly. This man Snape must be an extraordinary wizard.
"Man? He's not a man. He's the same age as my brother Ron—he's twelve."
But you said he defeated Lord Voldemort eleven years ago.
"Right, when he was one year old."
One year old?!
"Voldemort had already killed his parents, and when he tried to kill Harry he COULDN'T! And him one of the most powerful wizards ever to exist ever!"
And then he defeated him again last year, when he was only eleven? And no one knows how?
"That's just what makes him so fascinating! He's a MYSTERY!"
The diary lay blank for a long minute, as though thinking over this story. Then, slowly, You rather fancy this Harry chap, don't you?
Ginny felt her ears going red.
"NO!" she scribbled in gigantic letters. "Well, maybe a little," she added in smaller characters.
It's all right, you know. I can't exactly tell anyone.
"Oh, Tom, he's so…so…so wonderful. He can do so many things, he came top of the year in Potions, he got made Seeker in his first year and he single-handedly won Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup AND the House Cup, he defeated a Dementor, he knows ever so much, I've heard of him all my life but I never thought he'd be so close to my age and so INTERESTING."
Good-looking, is he?
"I think so. He's pale and he's got long black hair that sort of falls in his face when he's not paying attention and huge green eyes with really long black lashes all around, and a kind of pointy nose and a sort of thin hollow face, he looks kind of like an elf, not a house-elf but like a woodland elf, you know, and he always seems just a little bit sad. And when he's pleased about something he smiles and oh, Tom, I've never seen a smile like his, it's like the sun coming out, and he doesn't do it very much but it is the prettiest smile!"
Does he like you too?
"He barely even knows I'm ALIVE. He's Ron's best friend but when they're together they're always talking about Quidditch or something and they don't pay any attention to me."
That's horrid, Ginny. I'm sorry.
"I need to go to sleep now. We have to wake up early to get to Platform Nine and Three-quarters to go to Hogwarts."
So the day has arrived! Excited?
"Well, I should say so! I've only been dreaming of it my WHOLE LIFE! Weren't YOU excited when you were to go to Hogwarts?"
More than I've ever been by anything in my life. I was raised in a Muggle orphanage, you know. Hogwarts was the first place that ever felt like home to me.
"Maybe I'll look you up when I get there. Find out whether you ever got to be Head Boy!"
If you like. I'm sure I did, though.
"Me too. Goodnight, Tom. Will you still be here in the morning?"
I'll be here for a very, very long time, Ginny. Don't you worry.