"Go ahead, pick one! You can choose anyone you like."
Diana's eyes surveyed the delectable array of chocolates, cookies, lollipops, and other sweets. If it wasn't for the chocolate frogs leaping atop the counter and the children floating a few inches above the ground after chewing the Fizzing Whisbeees, Honeydukes could have easily passed for one of the high-end sweet shops Mrs. Zhang would sometimes take her and Olivia to.
"Um…" Diana looked up at the menu and tried to find the cheapest treat which, to her horror, was something called Acid Pops. The next couple items–Cockroach Clusters and Caramel Cobwebs—didn't seem promising either. "I'll take the…Chocoball?"
Arthur Weasley hastily handed the cashier a few silver coins he couldn't afford while Diana admired the mixed scent of strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate. She wasn't quite sure why the man insisted on paying, considering Diana was no longer strapped for cash while Arthur was, but assumed it was a matter of personal pride. The concept was foreign to Diana, since she never had any qualms letting others cover the cost of anything when she was in Amberton.
As they left the shop and wandered through the grounds of Hogsmeade, Diana's eyes naturally gazed up towards the foreboding castle towering in the distance. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was hard to believe she went from living in a shabby, two-story house with paint peeling off the exterior to living in a real Medieval castle to learn magic.
Entering the Hog's Head, Diana could see why this was the spot chosen for their Ministry-required monthly contact. It was sparsely populated by a few shifty-looking individuals, and the only person who gave them any attention was the bearded owner. They sat at one of the tables as Diana unwrapped her treat and began to nibble.
Diana assumed the chocolate was meant to appeal to her (nonexistent) sense of childhood, but whereas Fudge's attempt was patronizing, Diana knew Arthur's stemmed from concern and didn't mind as much. Maybe he's trying to get me to act more like a normal kid.
But she wasn't a normal kid, and hadn't been since the day the Challenger exploded. She was exposed to topics she shouldn't have at too young an age. Despite her teachers calling her "wise beyond her years," she knew she wasn't wise, just someone forced to grow up too early.
She followed her gaze to where Athur was staring, faint frown etched on his face. Burgess Borthwick was sitting at a table on the opposite side of the room, head buried into the Daily Prophet which covered most of his face. She remembered him from the Association meeting and stuck up her middle finger.
"Diana, that's unnecessary," Arthur chided gently. She wasn't sure when, but at some point he stopped calling her "Miss White."
She just shrugged. Arthur sighed and leaned his chin in his hands as he looked at her solemnly. "How are things at the Manor? All things considered, of course."
"Everything's okay," she mumbled, taking another bite. "I'm learning things. My father ignores me, my brother annoys me. Narcissa's…alright. She teaches me about things." Diana paused. "She brought me to this zookeeping murder cult."
"Ah. Good ol' Hyperborea," Arthur sighed warily, running a hand through his messy red hair. "Some of the more traditional among us have a rose-colored view of their isolationist ways. Of course, they're not a reflection of the Ministry's values, or the worldwide wizarding community as a whole."
Diana wasn't in the mood. "I haven't seen any dark artifacts either."
"Tha-that's not why I agreed to do this!" Arthur sputtered, face flushing. He regained composure and asked more seriously, "I wanted to check in regarding the Malfoys, but I also wanted to talk about the Association meeting." He hesitated before asking, "Are you…alright?"
Was she? Diana took another bite so she didn't answer. Memories of the Association meeting the previous week flickered through her mind like a movie reel.
The purpose of the meeting, in Fudge's mind, was a gesture of goodwill to placate concerns about possible mistreatment. It was there she first encountered Burgess Borthwick, whose name was previously mentioned by Fudge as a man whose presence would appease Lucius. Diana wasn't sure of his exact position or connection with her birth family, but he seemed to essentially function as a government toadie that kissed up to the Malfoy family. Superficially friendly, but Diana wouldn't trust him as far as she could throw him.
To his credit, he didn't interfere much and remained generally hands-off throughout the entirety of the meeting, which must have been a challenge given Nia Achebe's…passion.
Nia was as intense as she was the day Diana first saw her in Diagon Alley. She did most of the talking, but also had a habit of putting words into Diana's mouth ("I understand why you didn't wish to speak up in Diagon Alley. The Malfoys flaunt their influence and power like a Chinese Fireball during mating season, and it's easy to see why someone in your position would feel intimidated. Luckily, I'm not.")
Diana did an interview for The People's Voice, which was the Association's newspaper. Narcissa prepared her thoroughly for this, and Diana mulled over what she should say for a while now. She gave rehearsed, neutral answers that were designed to drum up sympathy. Her responses did not directly cast the Malfoys in a bad light, but were vague enough to possibly be interpreted that way, depending on the reader. In the end, both Nia and Borthwick seemed satisfied.
If it ended there, everything would've been fine. But as they were wrapping up, Diana spotted a man near the entrance of the building. A man with dark, disheveled hair and haunted eyes, huddling off in the corner in an overcoat. Diana's first assumption was that this man was on drugs, or whatever the wizarding equivalent was.
Arthur followed Diana's gaze, and when he saw the man, his eyes bulged. "M-miss Achebe, this is extremely inappropriate!"
Nia looked at Arthur, challenging. "Ridley's a changed man. And Diana deserves a chance to get closure."
Borthwick perked up, suddenly interested, and Diana felt like sinking into the floor. Arthur's face grew red as the man trudged towards them slowly and stiffly, as if held down by the chains of Jacob Marley. "I'm strongly against this," Arthur sputtered.
Before Diana could ask what they were talking about, the man approached them and mumbled so quietly Diana needed to strain to hear: "Miss White, I'm so sorry. I came here because of Nia…"
Diana didn't want to look into the man's sorrowful blue eyes and stared at her shoes instead. "I don't understand. Who"—there was no way to say it without sounding rude—"um, who are you, exactly?"
The man seemed to grow several shades paler as he looked at Nia in panic. Nia looked unconcerned as she told Diana, "This is Ridley Grayson. He's the man who obliviated your mother."
Diana froze.
Nia said more about how the Ministry recruited him fresh out of Hogwarts because of his "promising OWL scores." She explained how they "took advantage" and "weaponized" his Muggleborn background, and how he "saw the light and recognized the depth of the Ministry's depravity" after obliviating Sarah, but Diana was only vaguely registering Nia's words. Her startled eyes remained locked on Grayson's weary ones.
There was finally a lull which caused Diana to realize Nia was finished. "...I feel awful about it," Grayson weakly added.
"I say, Ridley," Borthwick began, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "I'm surprised to see you here. Last I heard, you abandoned wand life and went to live among the Muggles."
"I–I did," Grayson stammered. "But I didn't snap my wand, I just…haven't used it in the past five years."
"Yet I read a testimonial from you about Ministry back-dealings in The People's Voice in '89," he purred. "So you live amongst Muggles, except for the times when the Association drags you out to make a statement, is that it?"
Nia's eyes flashed as she turned towards Borthwick. "How dare you insinuate this is some publicity stu—"
"I think we're done here," Arthur added quickly, looking at Diana with concern. "Miss Achebe, we should—"
"Diana hasn't even had a chance to talk to him yet," Nia protested, folding her arms. "The importance of getting closure with the wizard responsible for obliviating one's parents cannot be understated. I realize it may be hard for purebloods"—she spat the word as if it were a curse—"to understand. I would have given anything for an opportunity like this."
Arthur suddenly looked very tired. "But she's not you, and—"
"I want to talk." Diana surprised herself by speaking up. She wasn't sure if what she said was true, but she was tired of adults making decisions for her. "But can I speak with Mr. Grayson…alone?"
"No," Borthwick replied flatly. "The minister set clear parameters for this…visit. I am to be present at all times."
"Okay." Fuck you too. "Well, can I do it with just me, you, and Mr. Grayson then?" She turned to Nia and Arthur, both of whom looked taken aback. "Sorry, but it's kind of…personal."
Nia was the one who recovered first. "Yes, of course. You can use this room in the back."
Once they entered and the door was shut, Grayson looked nauseous, as though he expected her to start screaming at him. A month ago, that's what Diana thought she would do if she was ever in this situation, but looking at him now—a sad shell of a man—she couldn't.
There was only one phrase she could bring herself to utter: "Why did you do it?"
Grayson's shoulders slumped, and he looked like a man much older. "In this world, Muggles aren't viewed as people, not really. There's a callousness, a disregard, that's so normalized, I started thinking it was normal, despite having Muggle parents myself. I know it's not an excuse, but it is an explanation."
Diana couldn't determine how she felt about that, and there was a moment of quiet. Unable to take the awkward silence, she blurted, "Is what Mr. Borthwick said true, about you giving up magic?"
"Yes."
"How?" Diana asked in spite of herself. "It must be hard going from being able to do everything to doing nothing."
"It was hard the first couple months," Grayson admitted. "Everyday tasks take longer when I can't use a wand. But my wand has so many bad memories, it's liberating, in a way, choosing not to use it." They both ignored the scoff from Borthwick in the corner. "I was perfectly fine not using magic for the first eleven years of my life. After the first few months, I fell back to that habit."
"If you don't use magic anymore, how can you get a job?" Diana asked. She wasn't emotionally prepared to discuss why he came to the Association building, so grappled for any other conversation topic she could find. "You can't put down that you went to Hogwarts on job applications, right?"
For the first time today, the corners of Grayson's lips turned upward. "No, I can't. Before I went to Hogwarts, I was viewed as—um, not to sound arrogant, but, well—I was considered something of a prodigy by my teachers, when it came to science and mathematics. I reached out to one of my old teachers, and I'm not going to bore you with the details, but I ended up doing low-level entry work in a lab, but now I'm working with a professor at Oxford. Biology. Virology. I forgot how much I missed learning about something other than magic."
"That's neat." There was another long silence as Diana fished for another conversation topic. "What House were you in?"
"Ravenclaw." Grayson's smile faded. "I sometimes wonder if I was sorted differently, would I have followed the same path….in Ravenclaw, we're encouraged to seek knowledge and learn more, but I never stopped to wonder if I should. Since I was Muggleborn, I always wanted to discover more about the world, but like in Frankenstein—you know what that is, right?"
Did he think she was an idiot? "Yes."
"Just like in that story, there are some things Man isn't meant to know." His eyes began to moisten. "I'm truly sorry, Miss White…for what I did to your mother."
"I believe you," she said quietly, and it was true. There was no doubt in Diana's mind that Grayson's remorse was genuine. Mulling over their conversation and her own feelings, there was really only one thing she could say. "I know that what happened to Mum wasn't up to you. I don't know if Mum or Grandma would, but…I forgive you."
It was simultaneously the hardest and easiest phrase for her to say. In some ways, she wished he was a smug bastard so she could hate him.
But that died once she saw Grayson's tender expression. "Thank you," he whispered softly. "You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that. Now I can finally snap my wand and leave all this unpleasantness behind me."
"Wait! Y-you don't have to do that," Diana stuttered. "Giving up your magic isn't going to make the Ministry stop existing, it'll just stop you from knowing what's going on."
Grayson chuckled darkly. "I have no desire to follow the going-ons in this awful place anymore."
"I want you to," Diana said before she could think about it. Grayson and Borthwick both stared at her and she rushed to explain. "It could be good to have someone with your knowledge on"—she almost said 'my side' but remembered Borthwick was there—"um, helping out, like how you did with writing in the paper. You know things other wizards don't. About what it's like to be a memory-eraser and….and other stuff."
Grayson looked a bit wary, and Diana felt a stab of guilt. "...Alright. I'll continue as I've been doing."
"Thank you," she replied, forcing a smile.
In truth, Diana's reasoning for wanting Grayson to maintain a connection to the wizarding world was selfish: she wanted an ally for The Plan.
"The Plan" was vague and almost nonexistent, but she knew she had one. Or, more accurately, was going to have one. And it would be something that would cause the Malfoys to tremble and upend the entirety of wizarding society. Something that would bring justice to all the Muggles the wizards screwed over, literally and figuratively. And she would be the catalyst.
Eventually.
But as much as she hated to admit it, she had been learning things from the Malfoys, and one thing she grudgingly accepted was that she wouldn't be able to enact The Plan without a base of support. So far, her base consisted of Arthur and Nia, but if she could add a former Ministry worker who felt indebted to her, that might get her one step closer to her ill-defined goal.
As they left the room to rejoin Arthur and Nia, Diana tried not to look behind her as she felt Borthwick's cold, calculating eyes drilling holes into her back.
"I'm fine," she replied evenly. "How's Mr. Grayson doing?"
"He's doing well. I'd like to speak with him more about his 'science.' It's so ingenious, how Muggles can—"
"Arthur!" a hearty laugh erupted from across the room, and Diana and Arthur both snapped their heads to look at a very large bearded man thudding towards them. Diana tensed. "I didn' expect ter see yeh here so soon! How's Charlie?"
"Hello, Hagrid," Arthur greeted, waving at the larger man. "Charlie's doing fantastic! He's working at a dragon sanctuary in Romania." Arthur gestured towards Diana. "Hagrid, this is Diana. She'll be starting classes in September. Diana, this is Hagrid, the groundskeeper of Hogwarts."
"N-nice to meet you," Diana mumbled. Arthur's reaction caused her to feel a bit more at ease, but she was still intimidated by the man's size.
"Diana?" Hagrid echoed. "The Malfoy bastard?"
Hagrid's default volume was loud, which naturally caused a few heads to flicker in their direction. Diana felt her cheeks burn.
"Yes," Arthur said with a strained smile. "And we'd prefer to keep it low-profile."
"Sorry, sorry," muttered Hagrid. He looked around, noticing the eyes on them for the first time. "Well, what're yeh lookin' at? Mind yer own damn business!"
Mentally, she tried to do what she did when she unlocked the door to her room: Apparate, apparate, apparate.
It didn't work.
Hagrid's gaze fell from the patrons to Diana, and seemed to soften. "Sorry yeh have to live with the Malfoys after what Lucius did to yer ma. Ministry's daft as a brush."
"It was nice seeing you, Hagrid," Arthur said as he dug out a few knuts to leave on the table. "But I'm afraid Diana and I must be going."
Subtleties seemed to be lost on Hagrid, and he continued on as if he didn't hear. "Are yeh excited to get sorted?"
"Not really," Diana answered honestly as she stood up. "I'll probably end up in Slytherin."
Diana went through all the possibilities, but none of the others seemed to fit. Gryffindor was the house of the brave, and she certainly wasn't—her unwillingness to testify in front of the Wizengamot proved that. Ravenclaw? Her marks in school were average, and she wasn't particularly creative, either. She enjoyed reading as a hobby, but didn't think she had the same hunger for knowledge that seemed characteristic of the house. She wanted to be Hufflepuff; the hard work and loyalty reminded her of the tenets of Girl Guides. And while she did consider herself to be hardworking, the reason whyshe worked hard throughout her life seemed more suited for the emerald house.
Hagrid laughed and shook his head. "Slytherin's only fer bad eggs, an' you aren' one, no matter who yer father is."
Such faith from a stranger who knew her for about one minute should have been encouraging, but it only made Diana feel worse.
"There are some good Slytherins," Arthur said, standing up. Diana could tell he was trying hard to be diplomatic and unbiased.
Hagrid scoffed. "Name one within the past fifty years who was famous for somethin' good."
There was a brief pause. All Arthur managed to come up with was, "W-well, there are unsavory characters from other houses, too. Like Sirius…" Hagrid visibly sobered, piquing Diana's curiosity. "I'm sure Diana will excel no matter where she's sorted."
He probably knows I'm going to Slytherin, Diana realized glumly as they exchanged goodbyes with Hagrid and exited the Hog's Head. This was reinforced when Arthur whispered, "Sorry about him. He's a well-meaning chap, but is a bit, erm.."
"Enthusiastic?" Diana supplied.
"Indeed. He's a tad biased against Sytherins because one turned him in and got him expelled."
"Really?" Diana's eyes widened. "What happened?"
Arthur winced slightly, perhaps realizing this wasn't an appropriate conversation topic. "It's not a secret, per say, but it's not really something a student should…" He trailed off and sighed at Diana's imploring eyes. "He smuggled some sort of monster into the castle, which was suspected of killing a student." At Diana's expression, he hurried to clarify, "I don't think the creature was responsible, and neither does the current headmaster! It was just suspicion driven by—in my opinion—prejudice towards half-breeds which made him an easy scapegoat."
"People die in the school?!"
"Not often, but yes, it does happen. Occasionally."
"And it's not just wizards I need to worry about, but monsters, too?" she groaned.
"No," Arthur said quickly. "Monsters stay in the Forbidden Forest outside Hogwarts. As long as you don't trespass there, you should be safe. The only things you need to worry about in Hogwarts are Peeves the Poltergeist and moving staircases." The "only" things I have to worry about are ghosts and moving staircases. Lovely. "I have sons who'll be attending Hogwarts, and one of them's your age. I'll make sure they explain the ropes to you and help you with anything you need."
Diana wasn't sure if Arthur's sons would be like miniature versions of him, but she hoped so. Average schoolboys would be miserable if they were bogged down by her instead of relishing in freedom away from home.
Diana's eyes drifted towards the castle again. She hadn't even gotten on the Hogwarts Express, and already she was overwhelmed by stress.
Back at Malfoy Manor, Diana had another stressor to contend with: Draco.
For the past week, her brother had been dropping hints about an "interesting room" he wanted to show her. But whenever she'd press him about it, he'd respond vaguely, sharp-blue eyes darting from side to side. The way he'd immediately clam up whenever Lucius or Narcissa entered the room caused Diana's bullshit meter to go off the charts.
Growing up in Amberton predisposed Diana towards cynicism, but one didn't need to grow up there to realize Draco was attempting to lead her into a trap. A trap leading to what, she had no idea, but had enough awareness to demonstrate no interest whatsoever. Which wasn't hard, because she genuinely didn't care.
But Diana realized early on that Draco wasn't accustomed to hearing the word "No," and hearing the words leave her lips caused him to–without fail—come back the next day like a snooty boomerang.
"How pathetic," he sneered, leaning against the doorframe while Diana lay sprawled on her bed reading Magical Mishaps. She thought she would be able to relax in her room after returning from Hogsmeade, but apparently not. "I guess some people have no desire to better themselves or go beyond their station."
"I guess so," she retorted, flipping to the next page. 'Perhaps the most egregious case of splinching occurred in 1957, where Errett Elderton found himself melded to the back of Waldo Goodwin's head during an ill-fated attempt at apparating without a license …' Ewww.
Draco tried a different tactic. "Mother and Father are both away. You'll never get another chance like this, you know. I've seen the secrets inside, but you'll head to Hogwarts like a naive and ignorant puffskein."
"I think I'll manage," she replied evenly. Noticing his scowl from the corner of her eye, she added. "You realize this isn't going to work, right? I'm not lying when I told you: I don't care."
"You should." Draco folded his arms, a nasty smirk emerging on his face. "There might be something that lets you summon ghosts. Maybe even Muggle ones."
Diana stilled, eyes glued on a page she was no longer reading. Arthur's words of poltergeists corroborated what she already learned about the wizarding world: ghosts were real. Which meant the continuation of the soul was no longer a hypothetical, but something with tangible proof.
Which meant her mother might be out there in some capacity.
She turned her cool gaze to Draco, who met her eyes challengingly, though she picked up on a subtle twitch of his finger that hinted her brother wasn't quite as bold as he appeared.
If she went to this "interesting room," would she be able to contact Sarah? Would I even want to?
"...Alright," Diana finally agreed. Draco's eyes were alight with glee and malice. "But just so you know, I'm fully aware this is a trap."
"It's not," Draco insisted, though the triumphant glint in his eye indicated otherwise.
But how much harm could he do, really? The worst he could do was kill her, which Diana wouldn't mind that much. Actually the worse he could do is transfigure me into an object or animal, or remove my bones, or trap my soul in an object, or be driven crazy by pain curses, or—
In retrospect, there were a lot of things worse than death in the wizarding world.
Diana always felt like a mouse in a maze whenever she had to navigate the labyrinthine corridors of Malfoy Manor ("If you can't even find your way to the dining room, how do you expect to get around Hogwarts? I'm not going to escort you around like some house-elf") and today was no exception. Luckily–or unluckily—she had Draco forging ahead. Eventually, he brought her to the drawing room and lifted a carpet next to an ottoman.
Diana didn't see anything unusual at first, but Draco knelt down next to one of the floorboards and pulled out what looked to be the wizarding equivalent of a switchblade. Before Diana could open her mouth, Draco ran the blade across the tip of his thumb pad, watching intently as two droplets of blood dripped to the floor. The floor then began to wobble, as if it were water camouflage to look like mahogany. Then, as if Draco were Moses parting the Red Sea, the floorboards sank inward and pushed to the side, revealing a pathway with stone steps that led downward to a hidden cavern.
Wow.
Draco began to descend the steps, beckoning Diana forward, who followed after a brief moment of hesitation. "How did you do that?" Diana couldn't help but ask. "I thought we weren't supposed to use magic outside of Hogwarts."
"It's not a spell," Draco drawled as if she were an idiot. "It's blood magic. This is a secret passageway that allows any Malfoy entrance, as long as they prove their lineage. Father keeps his most valuable artifacts here."
Diana bit her tongue in order to stop from asking why his 'most valuable artifacts' were kept in a place where two eleven-year olds could access easily. Was Lucius truly arrogant enough to think his son wouldn't sneak behind his back?
Yes. Yes, he is, Diana thought gloomily as they reached the base of the steps and into the secret room.
Once cursory glance around the room would allow anyone to realize the owner had to be evil, insane, or both. Ancient tomes, gnarled hands, preserved eyes, masks, bones, and ostentatious jewelry were shamelessly on display. On one shelf sat an honest-to-God dragon skull, and over another hung a horrific tapestry of what Diana assumed was the Hyperborean Wicker Man ritual.
"What are we looking for?" asked Diana as she eyed the black clock leaning against the wall, watching its minute hand move back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
Draco stood near a table with several emerald, satin scrip bags perched atop. "Take one of these bags. They're enchanted and have a lot of artifacts inside. We can go through them in your room."
Diana folded her arms. "Why don't we go through them now?"
"Because we don't have enough time," Draco hissed, face starting to flush slightly. "Mother and Father will be home soon."
There was a moment of silence. Then, Diana squinted. "You know what, Draco? I'll pass. I don't need to contact Mum after all."
Draco's face looked almost comical. "B-but this is your one chance!"
"I'm good, thanks." She turned around and walked up the steps, paranoia nipping at her heels. She wondered if Draco would grab an object and bludgeon her with it, or use an artifact to kill her or sap her energy.
Regardless, her concerns were premature. She didn't hear anything at all as she ascended the stone stairway and retreated to the library.
One thing Draco wasn't lying about was that Lucius and Narcissa did come home within the hour. Once she heard them step out of the fireplace, Diana scuttered back to her room, hoping—as usual—to avoid any conversation. She decided to kill some time by double-checking to make sure her suitcases were packed with what she needed for Hogwarts, which ended up being extremely fortuitous: By doing so, Diana discovered Draco's plot.
Nestled within the confines of her suitcase was a small emerald bag. A bag which children were obviously not supposed to move from its secret vault of valuable dark artifacts.
The plan seemed clear: Draco plants the bag on Diana, Draco lies about how Diana snuck into the secret vault and stole the bag, Draco gets rewarded while Diana gets punished.
Would Lucius believe her if she told the truth? Draco evidently thought not, but Diana privately suspected Draco was being naive. How would Diana even know about the vault if not for Draco?
Well, time to see what's so valuable. In what was–in retrospect—not the wisest decision, she turned the bag over and dumped the contents on the floor, stopping only when the items piled up to her mid-calves with no signs of slowing down. How deep does this thing go? Some objects looked appropriately evil, like a serrated blade and small box with skulls engraved on the cover. Others looked fairly innocuous, like a quill, a marble, a carving of an angel, and a small black book.
Diana's brows furrowed as she picked up the book and read the back. Winstabley's Bookstore & Stationers…I went there with Grandma! Memories of their trip to London and Vauxhall Road flitted through her mind as she flipped through the first few pages. The date indicated the book was published in 1943, and there was a smudged name on the inside cover: T. M. Riddle. Flipping through the rest of the pages, Diana's eyes widened as she came to a conclusion.
It wasn't a dark artifact at all—it was a Muggle diary!
But why wasn't the owner able to write in it? Diana thought of worst-case scenarios and reasons why Lucius might have the book, and felt goosebumps creep over her body. Could the owner be like her mother, who had her own black book where she recorded information about wizards? Could Lucius or another wizard have erased the contents of the diary?
Or could this book be a dark artifact? Diana shook her head, immediately dismissing the thought as she began putting the other items in the bag. It was clearly Muggle-made, so the only way it could be fucked with would be if a wizard did something to it. And unlike the coin that caused her mother to teleport, she was able to open the diary safely (which was really foolish, actually…), so it couldn't be enchanted. After every other object was returned to the bag, Diana's hands rested on the black cover and hesitated.
"Dobby," Diana whispered. In an instant, the house-elf appeared, hands wringing and eyes bulging upon seeing the bag. "Draco's trying to frame me. Can you put this back before my father finds out?"
"Dobby is sorry, mistress," he groveled. "Only those of Master Malfoy's bloodline can enter his secret chamber, certainly not a house-elf as loathsome as Dobby…"
A sense of dread began to engulf Diana. If that was the case, there's only one option available. "Um, Dobby…I know you're not going to like this, but I need your help with something…"
Forty minutes later, there was a sharp knock on Diana's. She sucked in a breath and reluctantly put Magical Mishaps on her nightstand before heading to the door. Moment of truth…
As expected, Lucius Malfoy towered, out-of-place and haughty, in the doorframe, curling his lips downward slightly as though there was an unpleasant smell. Next to him was Draco, looking like the cat who swallowed the canary.
"Yes?" Diana asked innocently.
"I was informed that you took it upon yourself to take something that belongs to me," Lucius said thinly. "I'm here to pursue whether such an accusation holds merit, or if it's a substantial waste of my time." He shot Draco a withering look, which made Draco's eyes harden with determination.
Draco likely already thought of ways to counter her claims that he was the one who showed her the room, so Diana decided to play dumb instead. "I didn't take anything."
Lucius sighed dramatically (and unnecessary) as he pushed past her into the room and—like she predicted—stalked straight over to the suitcase where the bag was hidden. He opened the latch and rummaged through her belongings before turning to glare at his son with the intensity of several white-hot suns. Draco's nasty grin vanished.
Without dropping eye contact with Draco, Lucius hissed through gritted teeth, "Accio scrip!"
Nothing happened. Lucius paused for several seconds. "First the nonsense with the topiary, now this." Although Lucius's tone was quiet, it had enough power as though he were shouting. "I'm disappointed, Draco."
Watching Draco's shattered expression made Diana almost feel bad. Almost.
Diana recalled earlier how she told Dobby she needed two things: 1. A knife, and 2. A distraction. The 'nonsense with the topiary' was the distraction; apparently, when Draco was five, he used unconscious magic to animate the topiary, causing them to wreak havoc. Dobby used his own magic to achieve a similar effect, which caused Draco's parents to be occupied and gave Diana enough time to rush to the drawing room, enter the vault, and return the bag to its rightful position before Lucius was none the wiser.
"I don't get it," Diana lied. "What's going on?"
Lucius slowly stood up, eyes narrowing. "Draco's taken to fabricating lies in order to create an illusion of self-importance. Rest assured, you won't have to worry about these false accusations any longer. This will be dealt with."
Draco paled, looking like a prisoner on the executioner's block. Not my problem, not my problem, not my…ugh. Goddamnit….
"Well, I did go into your secret room," Diana admitted. Lucius stared, and Draco's mouth opened slight;y. "I took one of the bags, but put it all back. Sorry. I didn't know it was off-limits."
She didn't particularly like Draco, but she didn't want him to get hurt. Especially by Lucius.
"What was inside the scrip bag?" Lucius asked coldly, folding his arms and drumming his fingers.
Diana's earlier suspicions were right—Lucius didn't believe she could have found the room on her own. But she came prepared. "Rings," she replied, remembering one of the other bags on the table she peeked into when returning the one placed in her room. She didn't want to draw attention to the bag that was really in her room. "Gold, silver, all different kinds."
"I see." There was a pause. "Why?"
That was a question she wasn't prepared to answer, and needed to bullshit on the spot. "They looked pretty. I never owned pretty things like that before coming to the Manor."
"How did you find out about the hidden room?" Lucius demanded. "Surely someone of your…background…wouldn't be familiar with blood magic."
"There's a bunch of books on family history," Diana began, which was true. "Narcissa told me to read them, so that's what I've been doing. One mentioned the secret chamber."
This was easily the weakest part of the story and could easily be checked, but Diana was clinging onto the hopes that Lucius would be too lazy to go perusing through the multitude of volumes on Malfoy family history, if the dust on the books were any indicator.
"Which one?" he questioned, piercing gaze fixated on Diana.
"I don't remember," she replied, hoping her tone came out even, but wasn't entirely sure. "It was one of the old ones. I think."
There were a few beats of silence where Diana felt like a frog being mentally dissected, then Lucius leaned back and said, with a slight mocking edge, "Then I suppose Draco should be grateful for your clarification." His tone then grew lower, more serious. "That room is off-limits. If I see you there again, there will be consequences."
Diana nodded and watched as he stalked off, cloak flapping behind him like a bat. Once the thundering of his boots could no longer be heard, she turned to look at Draco, who was frowning at her with knitted brows.
"What?" she snapped impatiently. "I got you out of trouble. You should be happy."
"You must think I'm stupid," he jeered. Yes, yes I do. "I'm not going to fall for any of your tricks."
Diana flopped on the bed and pulled Magical Mishaps from the nightstand and opened to the page with her bookmark. "It's not a trick. I just hate the idea of him hurting anyone. And I'm not going to keep arguing about it, so if you don't have anything else to say, then leave."
Diana felt his eyes on her for a few moments, before hearing the door creak shut and faint footsteps in the hallway. After she was sure she was alone, she reached under her pillow and pulled out the black diary.
She lied before; she didn't put it all back. She kept this one little thing that might be a clue to uncovering the truth behind other Muggles Lucius and his death eater friends tortured. She stared at the book intently and tried to remember what Mr. Weasley did when he suspected Fudge enchanted her ice cream. Revelio, Revelio, Revelio…
She thought the word intently in her mind and whispered it a few times, but nothing happened. She had no idea if her mental spell worked or not, and probably wouldn't until she went to Hogwarts and learned magic. From where she was standing, the object really did seem like a normal Muggle notebook.
Which means the owner really was a Muggle or Muggleborn…
Diana crept over to her suitcase and buried the notebook deep underneath her robes. She would do more investigating when she was away from this den of vipers.
As she drifted into an uneasy slumber later that night, Diana's heart broke for poor T. M Riddle and the tragic fate he (or she) no doubt experienced at the hands of those evil wizards.
