Chapter 4: On permutation of elements
The day after the visit to Diagon Alley, owls brought in two letters; one was for Narcissa, the other was for Harry. As soon as breakfast was over, the boys darted to the gardens with the letter, grabbing some apples just in case. Narcissa opened hers right away.
Good day, Mrs. Malfoy,
Thank you for your kind offer to write to you. I must admit, our meeting the previous day caught me by surprise; I have never understood Pandora's relationship with you and had no desire to cultivate the acquaintance. I hope I do not have to explain my reasons for it. Nonetheless, our brief conversation yesterday made me think that maybe I do not have enough information to make such a decision.
If despite my previous disregard of courtesy you will find it possible to spare the time to talk, I will be glad to have the honour of extending my hospitality to you and your sons next Saturday.
With all due respect,
Xenophilius Lovegood
Lucius looked at her curiously while she was reading. Narcissa perused the letter twice and handed it to her husband.
"I am not invited," he mused.
Narcissa sighed.
"It is partly understandable, Luc. It is a blatant breach of etiquette, though."
"I do not think that the editor of The Quibbler attaches any value to etiquette," Lucius chuckled. "Will this visit be useful, in your opinion?"
"I do not know," Narcissa shook her head. "But I must try. For Pandora's sake… and for Luna's. I will write back that we accept the invitation."
Nodding in understanding, Lucius pressed his lips to her temple.
"Of course."
"Besides," Narcissa smiled slyly, "It is always a good idea to be on good terms with an editor of the oppositional press."
"The Quibbler is the oppositional press now?" Lucius grinned.
"Well, the opposition is as good as the press," Narcissa remarked. She sighed and looked through Xenophilius's letter again; the missive reminded her of her other plans that had been on hold for too long. "You know… I think there is another letter that I should have written long time ago." She stared deeply into her husband's eyes. "You know which one."
This time Lucius frowned, contemplating the consequences of such a decision.
"Do you think now is the right time? Considering what we are waiting for any day now?"
"I think," she said, "it is a reason to hurry. I regret not doing it earlier, even though… Then again, you already know all my thoughts on the matter. And I am worried it might be too late."
"In that case, we will not lose more than we already have. However, I sincerely hope that you will succeed. The wider the set of… the interested people, the better."
"You do realise," Narcissa hesitated, "that it is not the crux of the matter."
"Of course." He looked at her gravely. "However, one will not work without the other. The Dark Lord used blood ties right and left in the past, and he was the only one who benefitted from it. We cannot let it happen again."
"Yes. Of course. But still… I am afraid, politics is the last thing on my mind now."
Lucius gently drew her closer into his embrace.
"Everything will be fine. I am absolutely sure of it. You are an extraordinary witch, and you always get what you want." He smiled slyly. "And you do not have to read anyone's thoughts to do it."
Narcissa laughed.
"In any case, I do not need a magical ring to read yours." She kissed his cheek. "I am off to write my letters."
"And I might as well check the basement. What if we forgot something?"
As soon as they stepped out under the soft morning rays of the August sun, Harry opened the twins' letter and read it on the move, dying of curiosity. Draco munched on an apple and read it over his shoulder unceremoniously.
Greetings, our dearest benefactor!
We write to you to express our inexpressible gratitude. Yesterday evening we succeeded in conducting two successful experiments and an unsuccessful one.
[You're laying it just right, Dreddy.]
[Did I ever, Forgie!]
Anyway, everything went splendidly. The last time we went overboard a little, and the ghoul in the attic went so mad that it looks like we'll have to stop our experiments at least till the end of August. As soon as it sees us now, it not just growls, but throws old leaky cauldrons at us. We had to lock the attic.
See you at Hogwarts!
F&G
"Benefactor?" Draco asked suspiciously. "What have you gotten yourself into now?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders and put the letter into his robe's pocket.
"I gave them several Sickles to buy a handy book," he replied. "They didn't want to take the money, so I suggested they share their inventions with us as compensation. I think it might be good. They're really smart."
"If you say so," Draco said doubtfully. "I don't know what will come out of it, but they might do something useful. What was the book about?"
"Explosions. How to Blow up Anything, or something like that."
They were right around the corner of the stables, but Draco stopped so suddenly that Harry almost ran into him.
"What?"
"It was about explosions."
Draco stared at him.
"Harry. You bought the Weasley twins a book about blowing things up?"
"Well, yes. Why?"
"You're mad. Severus will kill you."
"They promised not to blow anything up in his classroom."
"Oh yeah? What about other places?!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Well… The Great Hall, for example."
Harry frowned.
"Hmm. I have not thought about that. All right, I will talk to them. Anyway, that's McGonagall's problem. They won't tell on me, the rest will be on her." He took out an apple from the other pocket and munched on it. "Come on, let's go to the stables. The summer is ending, and there are no horses at Hogwarts. The thestrals are not suitable for riding. They are too raw-boned."
"First of all, they're invisible," Draco snorted. "Imagine how you'd look riding them!"
Harry did and spluttered with laughter, almost choking on his apple.
"I'll pass, I think!"
The cool summer night enveloped the Malfoy manor; crickets were chirping with all their might. The boys were long asleep, but Lucius and Narcissa were not settling down yet, talking quietly at the library. Narcissa was not expecting a return letter that same day, but Lucius knew that waiting was wrenching for his wife and tried entertaining her by sharing his thoughts on the latest novel he borrowed from Petunia during his last visit. A strange title on a brightly coloured book cover left in the sitting room attracted his attention, and he could not resist the temptation to ask Petunia about her changing tastes in books. The woman blushed a little and admitted that it was a recommendation of Mr. Lloyd and that she found it very strange, but not without certain charm. I cannot say I am enraptured, but there is something about it, she acknowledged grudgingly, pursing her lips.
"It truly is the strangest Muggle book I've ever encountered," Lucius grinned. "If this is the way they imagine witches and witchcraft, it is no wonder they fear us and do not believe we exist at the same time. However, I suspect that from Petunia's point of view the most attractive feature of this wild story is the fact that the main villainess is named Lily, and she desperately tries to inflict good on everyone she sees. Even Dumbledore does not try that hard."
Narcissa took the book and leafed through it. At first, the expression on her face became perplexed astonishment, then it turned into keen interest, and soon Lucius knew he had accomplished his goal: Narcissa was fully immersed in the book. Smiling to himself, he Accioed a book of Shakespeare's tragedies and delved into Macbeth, which was his go-to book when waiting for developments that could not be hastened.
Some time passed, and Lucius was beginning to think about going to bed when he felt the taut shiver of the manor's protective wards. Uninvited, but long awaited guests had just Apparated to the gates.
"Cissy," he said quietly.
"Yes?" she looked up from the book, distracted. A blonde lock of hair fell out of her updo and fell over her face. Narcissa blew on it impatiently and looked questioningly at her husband.
"They are here."
"Are they?" A sly smile appeared on her lips. "It's time to entertain ourselves, it seems. The trick is to project the combination of surprise, righteous indignation and strained courtesy in the right proportions."
Lucius chuckled.
"And stir nine times counter clockwise?"
"Then bring to the boil and wait patiently for about four hours until it's done."
"Do you think it will stopper their wish to stick their noses where they do not belong?"
"I doubt it. It may curb their enthusiasm, though. Will you go and greet them? I will probably stay here as I see no point in running to the bedroom and pretending I was asleep. I will just read some more."
"Of course." Lucius tenderly glanced at his wife. She looked as innocent and endearing as possible at that moment in her light-blue home robes, with her blonde hair flowing down her shoulders, absorbed in a popular Muggle book. If it were possible to fall in love with her even deeper Lucius would have — especially knowing what intelligence, shrewdness, determination and sense of humour were hidden under this mask of sweet naiveté.
Suppressing his desire to dilly-dally and annoy the unwelcome guests by making them wait, Lucius walked toward the manor gates at a moderately fast pace.
There were four of them: first of all, Arthur Weasley came to check out the report on the Malfoys in person. The second was Alastor Moody, whose magical eye was turning like a Sneakoscope either out of suspiciousness or in response to the manor's protective wards. The third one was a grim haughty man whom Lucius remembered from the time when he was interrogated after the disappearance of the Dark Lord. His name was Dawlish. He was a scrupulous formalist, completely devoid of imagination – a perfect target for a good prank. Provided, of course, that the punch line was simple enough. The last one was a rather young woman – almost a girl – with bright green hair who gave off an air of being vaguely familiar.
The four of them stood just outside the gates and waited for the owner of the house to come out. Arthur was shifting from foot to foot as if he was uncomfortable; Moody was muttering something under his breath; the girl was looking around curiously. Only Dawlish was patiently waiting to be let in.
"Good evening. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Lucius asked, addressing no one in particular.
"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," Dawlish replied dryly. "Due to the fact that some… new information had been uncovered recently, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement needs to make sure that all the laws and regulations on the use of Muggle artefacts are upheld within the premises of your estate."
After delivering this message, he looked sideways at Arthur Weasley as if expecting approval or further instructions, which led Lucius to conclude that the latter was actually in command while Dawlish performed the duties of either a secretary or a negotiator. Lucius wondered whether Arthur did not want to take over the talking himself because the man felt utterly disgusted with him. Or was he ashamed? If yes, what of?
"In other words, you came here for a search," Lucius said.
"If it pleases you to call it that," Dawlish nodded.
"Is it so urgent? It is rather late," Lucius remarked. "The children are obviously long asleep. Can't the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office wait until morning?"
"The children can tough it out," Moody grunted. "Your gremlins are not babies anyway, they'll survive."
"Oh, the boys will love it, I assure you." Lucius smiled coldly. "They will be happy to have stories to tell at school. I hope you do have all the necessary paperwork, don't you?"
The paperwork was in order, including the order to inspect the manor signed by the Amelia Bones. Lucius studied all the documents, ignoring Arthur's and Moody's impatience, and asked in a cordial voice, "Are you planning to inspect the whole premises? The estate is rather large. It is also usually dark in the gardens at night. Will you need lanterns? Should I wake the house elves?"
"We'll see. Will you let us in or should we use force?" Moody asked sharply.
Lucius smiled again.
"You will not get anywhere with force. Did your colleagues not warn you? Even Voldemort cannot enter this place unless I invite him in."
It was still not easy to say the name out loud, but it was worth it: Arthur flinched, and Dawlish shuddered. Moody stared at Lucius, his artificial eye turning fiercely. On the bright side, the girl's face shone with interest.
"Still," Lucius continued, "I will let you in. I have nothing to hide. I must know, however, how long you are planning to stay."
"Why?" Arthur asked, perplexed.
"Because I do not ever grant unrestricted access, and a temporary visit demands a set duration. How many hours will I have the pleasure of having you around the house?"
The four of them looked at each other.
"Four?" Arthur suggested tentatively.
"Twelve," Dawlish guessed.
Moody glanced over the house in the distance, then over Lucius' face and curled his lip.
"Six hours will be more than enough," Moody grumbled. "And I have a gut feeling that each and every of them will be redundant."
"Of course it will," Lucius agreed. "I can assure you. But since you are the victims of circumstance as much as I am, let's get down to business. Give me your hand."
Moody reluctantly offered his hand; Lucius touched it with the tip of his wand and started reciting the spell in his head, temporarily adding the guest to the list of accepted visitors. It was a curious and rather intimate witchcraft, utilising the other person's own magic which made it a unique experience every time. The caster served as a medium, connecting a visitor with the protective wards of the manor, so Lucius felt the shadow of their power. It was similar to hearing music playing in a farthest room perceiving more the echo of the melody rather than the melody itself, yet it was possible to form an opinion about each guest.
Moody's magic resembled iron – the cold iron that fairies fear and cannot stand. It was steady, hard, relentless, and at the same time very simple and straightforward. Upon receiving the permission to enter, the old Auror moved behind Lucius' back almost immediately, and Lucius had hard time concealing his instinctive reaction to such an intrusion.
Dawlish's magic turned out to be flabby, pliant and somewhat acetous like a potion gone sour. It was almost physically unpleasant to be in contact with it, and Lucius hurried to end the contact as soon as possible.
It was Arthur's turn to offer his hand, and they both froze for a moment because he held it out as if for a handshake before turning it palm up. Lucius forced himself to touch it with his wand, staring straight at his guest's face. The other man did not look away, and the look in his eyes was a little guilty, but still resolute. Lucius grit his teeth, cast the spell and felt the magic of his old rival. Arthur's magic was similar to Arthur himself; it was bright, unruly and hot like a Midsummer bonfire. For some reason, the expression on Arthur's face became surprised as if he had seen or felt something unexpected. Fortunately, the contact ended soon, Arthur passed through the defence barrier, and the green-haired girl stepped forward. The last one.
She stared right at Lucius' face with open curiosity and held out her palm without hesitation. Lucius touched it with his wand and barely held back the exclamation of astonishment. Her magic was familiar too, and he experienced something similar only with Cissy: it gave a cool and fresh feeling, like clear water. The only difference was that Cissy's magic reminded him of a strong and gentle river, and the cheerful magic of his young guest was splashing eagerly and splattered like a spring brook. Then it dawned on Lucius: he suddenly knew why the girl's face seemed familiar and where he had heard the last name mentioned in their papers.
"Ah," he said, smiling slightly. "Welcome to the manor."
The green-haired girl smiled back and winked at him.
"Thank you," she replied, stepping through the barrier, and immediately tripped, so Lucius had to hold her elbow. "Ouch, I'm so terribly clumsy."
"That cannot be true," Lucius replied gallantly. "A clumsy Auror? I do not believe it. Shall we?" He offered her his arm.
The three men watched the exchange with varying degrees of embarrassment. Moody frowned with displeasure, and Arthur shook his head.
"Nymphadora!" Dawlish hissed. "Stop fraternising with the suspect!"
"Am I the suspect now?" Lucius asked. "How rapidly things change."
"I knew it," Moody grumbled. "We haven't even started the search yet, and the circus is already performing."
The best is yet to come, Lucius thought sardonically, showing all of them the way to the house.
Harry had been sleeping for a while when Dobby suddenly appeared in his bedroom and shook his shoulder, lamenting in a half-whisper, "Master Harry, no sleeping, guests here! Bad guests! Looking for bad things! Master Harry!"
Being only half-awake, Harry could not make heads or tails of it.
"What guests, Dobby?" he asked in a daze. "It's the dead of the night. What's going on?"
"Bad guests!" Dobby wailed. "They find it, and it's bad! Dobby say, Master Harry not listen, Master Draco not listen! Forbid to say! Bad!" He started wringing his long ears in obvious desperation, but Harry, who had occasionally looked through The Prophet, connected all the dots at last, and his heart sank. If a weird black notebook were found during a search in the house of a former Death Eater, all of them would be in deep trouble.
"Ssh, Dobby, stop fussing. Can you leave the manor undetected?"
For a moment Dobby left his ears be and nodded enthusiastically.
"Cool. Then I will give you that thing, and you will hide it..."
Dobby's eyes filled with tears.
"Master forbid, don't touch."
"Then…" Suddenly, Harry had an idea. "Let's go. They're not here yet, are they?"
"Master letting in," Dobby whispered. "They come soon, not yet."
"Let's hurry, then. And be quiet."
Harry stealthily slipped out into the corridor, crept into their study and first found the mysterious charmed notebook hidden behind the other books by feel in the darkness, then The Moonstone. There was no time to make a real hiding place, so Harry just ripped out some pages from the middle of the book and shoved the notebook in there. Then he gave both the book and the torn pages to Dobby.
"Now, listen to me, Dobby," he said. "This is a terribly boring Muggle book. I'm very fed up with it. Hide it..." He leaned in and whispered into Dobby's ear. "Can you do that? Make sure no one sees you."
Dobby clenched the book in his hands and disappeared.
Harry stood there for a minute, contemplating if going to bed was worth it when he heard footsteps and voices on the ground floor. It looked like the unwelcome guests had arrived. They were talking loudly, not even trying to hide their presence. Harry decided that in the circumstances he had the right to be curious without explaining why he was wandering around the house at night. Anyway, why should he explain to anyone why he was not asleep? The school year had not begun!
He walked noiselessly thanks to the carpet, sneaked up to the staircase and carefully looked down into the hall. He recognized Arthur Weasley and Alastor Moody right away, but the other two, he did not know; there were an older Auror and a girl with bright green hair. Lucius was telling the visitors where everything was in the house in a bored voice when the girl looked up and noticed Harry. She grinned at him and waved her hand. There was no point in hiding anymore, of course, so Harry walked down the stairs as nonchalantly as possible, studying the newcomers with open curiosity.
"Hello," he said politely before looking inquiringly at his father.
Lucius shrugged.
"I think a friend of yours gave you a taste for detective stories, did she not?" he asked with a slight smirk. "Well, now you have a chance to see for yourself how a search is conducted."
Interested, Harry stared at Mr. Weasley.
"A search? Really?" he asked. "What are you looking for?"
The man was visibly embarrassed.
"Ah… Good evening, Harry. This is not a search, only an inspection. An ordinary, routine inspection."
"Is that so?" Harry diligently feigned surprise. "Do you always conduct inspections at night? It must be hard to work like that."
"Stop fooling around, young man," Moody interfered. His magical eye was turning so furiously that it was impossible to know what he was looking at and whether he was angry or not. "Whatever it is called, we are just doing our job. The less time we beat around the bush," now he clearly scowled at Lucius, "the sooner we all will go to bed."
"I have no objections," Lucius replied dryly, but Harry saw that he was not outraged at this strange visit at all; on the contrary, he seemed satisfied. Harry immediately got even more curious: what was his father plotting?
"What's going on? What's happening?" a voice drifted down from the first floor, as Draco (in his pyjamas and rather dishevelled) joined the crowd. "Good… er… evening," he added, eyeing the guests suspiciously.
"Hello," the green-haired girl replied merrily. "My name is Tonks, and you're Draco, right? It's really nice to meet you."
The long face of the third Auror, a sturdy blond man with grey eyes, became even longer.
"Nymphadora," he said, displeased. "We did not come here for entertainment."
"Well, I don't know, Dawlish," the girl replied just as merrily and winked at Harry. "I think we're doing a great job of entertaining the hosts."
Harry decided that he liked her.
"I believe," Dawlish turned to Lucius in an apparent attempt to regain control of the situation, "your wife should be in the house as well. Where is she?"
"In the library," Lucius replied serenely.
"Is that everyone who is present at the manor?" Moody interfered. "Is there anyone else?"
"Are you interested only in humans?" Lucius specified. "In this case, that is all. Since our groom married and moved out to live off the property, only my family lives here."
Moody narrowed his eyes.
"Humans? What a curious elaboration. Whom are you hiding here, Malfoy? Vampires? Werewolves?"
"If they were here I would have classified them as humans," Lucius retorted icily. "No, I merely meant house elves. Are they of any interest to you?"
"Ah, those…" Moody waved his hand. "Not really. For formalities' sake, how many of them are here?"
"Forty eight. Ah, excuse me, there are forty nine already."
Harry stared at his father, surprised: he had never thought before how many elves lived at the manor. He had no idea there were so many. It looked like he was not the only one surprised, though.
"What?" Mr. Weasley gasped. "But why—" He fell silent as if realising that the question was impolite and not really related to the case.
Lucius, though, looked him over and elaborated, "This is one of the oldest estates in magical Britain. House elves have been living on the grounds for a long time. It is no wonder there are a lot of them. As far as I can tell, they like it here, and I have no intention of getting rid of them. And now, if you don't mind, let's finally get down to business. I have to remind you that your time is limited. If you do not leave the manor before it is up, unpleasant sensations are guaranteed. What exactly and in which order do you wish to… inspect?"
Mr. Weasley and Moody shared a weird glance (Harry could not figure out who was in charge), and Mr. Weasley said, "I think we will work faster if we split up. And I suppose," he looked sideways at Harry, and seemed to feel guilty, "the boys' rooms are a priority so they can… er… go back to bed?"
"And get out of our hair," Moody grumbled. "I would put Dawlish and Tonks in charge of that, so that Arthur and I could get to real business. But I suppose, you, Malfoy, will demand to be present during all that fuss?"
"Why would I?" Lucius glanced briefly at the green-haired girl, and a strange smile appeared on his lips. "I am sure that I can rely on the expertise of Mr. Dawlish and Ms. Tonks."
Wow! Now Harry was bursting at the seams with curiosity. Why would their father decline to oversee a search in their rooms? Aurors would not find anything there, of course, but it was a matter of principle. What was Lucius up to? Was this Tonks girl somehow involved?
Unfortunately, it was obvious that he would not get answers any time soon. Lucius summoned Dobby and ordered him to walk the boys with Dawlish and Tonks to their study room and later, when everything was over, to report that all was well.
Dobby, twisting the tips of his ears, led the four of them up to the first floor. When they passed the library, Narcissa appeared at the door with a book in her hands.
"Good evening," she said pleasantly, giving the visitors a shrewd look-over. "How can I help you?"
"Hurry downstairs," Dawlish grumbled. "Your husband said we could do without… supervision." He made a face.
"Don't worry," Tonks added. "We aren't going to eat them. Just nibble on them a bit, that's all."
"Who is going to nibble on whom, that is the question," Draco whispered into Harry's ear, but he was not paying attention. He was looking straight at his mother and noticed that Tonks' words wounded her. Maybe it was not the words, but Tonks herself? An outsider would have missed it in the dimly lit corridor, but Narcissa's eyes widened a little, and her welcoming smile fell for a moment. She immediately collected herself, though.
"Leave something for us," she quipped. "And for Albus Dumbledore. The summer has almost ended."
Dawlish grunted quietly, or maybe growled (either out of irritation or annoyance), but the comment about Albus Dumbledore seemed to make a difference, because he nodded and ordered, "Let's go."
They went down the corridor to their study and bedrooms. The search was more boring than in Hermione's books, but they did see Aurors at work. Unlike Muggle detectives, they did not ransack the dressers and shelves and did not tap the floor, using special spells instead that seemed to uncover different kinds of magic. Only Tonks was actually doing it while Dawlish watched her from the door with his arms crossed at his chest. He nodded appreciatively from time to time or sometimes shook his head. Harry wondered why.
She probably noticed Harry's interest because after yet another spell that made all objects that were charmed in any way light up, she smiled and said, "I'm not an Auror yet, just an apprentice. But my boss thinks that I'm doing a great job!"
"Nymphadora!" Dawlish snapped. "This is outrageous! Stop talking to…" He stopped, looked sideways at the boys and rephrased, "Stop talking. We need to finish with these rooms so Mr. Potter can finally go to sleep."
"I will stay here too," Draco announced.
"As you wish," Dawlish replied dryly. "For us, it will be even easier. You will have to stay here until you are allowed to leave, though. I warn you, I will put a ward on the door that will dissolve only after we leave."
Draco shrugged without replying.
A quarter of an hour later, Tonks was done with the search. While at it, she had recovered a gobstone from under the dresser, a crup whistle and a neon Dicto-Quill from under the ottoman below the window.
"At least some good came out of it." She winked at Harry, handing him the finds. "Here. It was a pleasure to meet you. Sorry for the intrusion."
This time, Dawlish only rolled his eyes. He was apparently tired of scolding his charge and just wanted to get out of there.
"Are you sure, Mr. Malfoy, that you want to stay here?" he enquired again with the same displeased and formal expression on his face. "Since we have already seen your room, you can go there if you wish."
"Thank you, I prefer to stay here," Draco said. "Good evening."
He yawned pointedly, took a pillow off the ottoman and a coverlet and went to bed. Harry was left to bid farewell to the intruders. Dawlish pursed his lips and nodded curtly before exiting, and Nymphadora smiled and winked, barely avoiding a collision with the door frame.
At last the door closed, and they were left alone. Draco opened his mouth, intending to ask something, but Harry shook his head and put a finger to his lips. Then he took his wand and carefully circled the room with it and pointed a finger at the door. Even though this Tonks girl was nice, they did not know what sort of spells the Aurors had used. Let them leave the house first.
Draco nodded in understanding.
Harry thought a little more and decided that if someone was listening in, they would find it suspicious to hear only silence.
"Pity we can't see what they are looking for and how they are going to search the house," he said, getting into the bed. "It must be interesting."
"Yeah," Draco replied, taking a hint. "I don't know about you, but I am going to sleep. There's nothing else to do, anyway."
Harry thought that he would be turning and tossing for a long time, but both quickly fell asleep.
When the boys went upstairs, accompanied by Tonks and Dawlish, Moody and Arthur finally got down to business. Or rather, Moody did: he prowled around the sitting room, using detection charms and looking into every nook with his artificial eye. Arthur just looked around intrigued, as, unlike the old Auror, he was there for the first time. Lucius settled in his favourite chair and watched them, doing his best not to reveal how much the whole affair amused him.
This was not a real search, of course. He survived many of those after the disappearance of the Dark Lord. And they were quite unpleasant. Now, without any doubt, everything was held in check by Kingsley Shacklebolt's masterful hand. Arthur Weasley was the head of the office involved, even if the office was tiny and insignificant, and the man came in person to oversee the whole thing. If his idle curiosity could be called overseeing, of course. This Gryffindor was known for his unfailing honesty and was Dumbledore's man through and through. Alastor Moody was a more unpleasant visitor. He was suspicious and vindictive, and considered it unnecessary to 'go easy' on anyone he thought to be the enemy. Still, he was also Dumbledore's man and would hardly take liberties in the house where Harry Potter was brought up. The cold fish Dawlish was basically a guarantee that everything would be done strictly by the book. And finally, Nymphadora Tonks… Lucius smirked in his head. No doubt, Kingsley knew who she was and arranged their meeting on purpose… and in violation of many rules, to that. Was she already on Shacklebolt's side? Or on Dumbledore's one? Or was she only on the brink of making that decision? The latter seemed to be closer to the truth, and Kingsley, apparently, hoped that participation in this adventure would nudge the girl in the right direction. Well, three can play that game. They will have to wait and see.
Narcissa came down from the first floor, taking her book with her; she greeted the visitors absentmindedly and sat down on the wide and solid armrest of Lucius's armchair. Her expression was strained, and her smile looked reserved. Lucius caught her eye and nodded, then covered her hand with his and slightly squeezed.
"Everything will be fine," he said quietly, taking advantage of the fact that Moody and Arthur were on the other side of the room. "Do not worry. We shall discuss everything tomorrow, and today we are simply…"
"Entertaining guests?" Narcissa straightened and smiled a little more cheerfully.
"Precisely, my darling."
At this moment three loud shrieks came from the place where Moody was standing.
"What is it?!" Arthur exclaimed, turning to the Auror.
A strange motley head appeared from the inside of the glass door of the antique grandfather clock and wailed, "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes!"
Then it disappeared.
Moody and Arthur stared at the clock in stupor.
"What was that?" Arthur asked again in bewilderment. "Is it dangerous?"
"No, but it is very, very bad," Moody said darkly. Then he turned to Lucius. "Malfoy, get that thing out of the clock."
"Please," Arthur added with slight reproach.
"Gladly." With a smirk, Lucius recovered a tabby ragged toy cat in a witch's hat and handed it to Weasley. "Do you like it? You can take it if you wish. My boys do not find it amusing anymore."
"What was it doing inside the clock?" Arthur mused.
"I have no idea," Lucius shrugged his shoulders serenely. "Were I to make a guess, I'd say it lived there."
"Cut out your dumb jokes," Moody snapped. "We came here to do a job."
"And I am not interfering with your job in any way," Lucius replied calmly. "Help yourself."
Arthur warily fiddled with the toy and carefully put it on the table. The toy cat laid there for a while before wailing again, "Double, double, toil and trouble! Fire burn and cauldron bubble!" Arthur jumped again and stared at the thing.
"Can't you… placate the animal?" Moody asked in irritation. "Or will we have to endure this unmusical background?"
"Well, if you do not appreciate the classics…" With a disappointed sigh, Lucius waved his wand and deactivated the spell. It was a pity: the cat had much more quotations in store.
Over the next three hours the following items were uncovered: a pack of clothespins under the sitting room sofa that were singing about four and twenty blackbirds and flew away when anyone attempted to grab them; a charmed powder box that gave beauty advice to the owner; a toaster that snapped its springs angrily at everyone from under the dining table and spat out a burned sock right in Dawlish's face when the man leaned in to see it better; a self-adjusting black knitted hat with huge mouse ears and a plush nose on the forehead bundled with a scarf of the same colour which attempted to attach itself to any neck available, mumbling, "Because I said so"; a plastic Muggle ring with a huge pink heart-shaped rhinestone with a Notice-Me-Not charm (Narcissa offered it to Tonks as a present, but Dawlish objected violently and confiscated this dubious piece of ornament); an elegant leather briefcase of Muggle make with a carefully charmed secret compartment that occasionally consumed documents put in there; a cashmere shawl that changed colour according to the owner's mood, and many other small objects of Muggle origin, each with more or less harmless, but, in most cases, not very appropriate charms.
Tonks was having a lot of fun, testing everything she found on herself when Dawlish was not quick enough to stop her. Arthur Weasley was, by contrast, frowning a little; it was possible he found the mocking to be too blatant, and Lucius wondered with some anxiety whether they had gone a bit too far. Then again, Alastor Moody almost completely stopped his grumbling and now just smirked at every new discovery.
The last item they found was a weird box with an inscription Nintendo GAME BOY, that lay 'forgotten' on a small table in the library. Upon seeing it, Arthur almost jumped.
"What is it?" he inquired.
"Illegal goods," Moody smirked.
"Far from it," Lucius objected. "It is an official European release."
"European what?" Arthur became confused.
"Edition," Lucius clarified. "It does not matter. It is a completely legal gadget bought in London. A children's toy."
"Well, Muggle illegal goods, then," Moody retorted.
"Am I hearing what I think I am hearing? Anti-Muggle sentiments at the Ministry?" Lucius 'gaped'. "The very idea!"
Moody stared at him, and this time, even his magical eye stopped spinning. Instead, orange sparks appeared in its depth. At last, he sighed deeply.
"Malfoy," he said darkly. "Stop it. You've had enough fun. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you, but someone certainly feeds you the right information when needed. Now the Ministry will spin a tale of you being an enthusiastic liberal to your heart's content. You did not try so hard for nothing. It was very nice of you to save a toaster for Dawlish. Thank you, we appreciate your generous hospitality. Now, would you be so kind as to show us your dungeons? Preferably the one with the entrance from the sitting room."
It was an inevitable part of the search, of course. Lucius had had no doubt from the very beginning that the basement would be a part of it, but it did not mean that the impending excursion gave him joy.
"If you find it necessary…" Narcissa said dubiously.
"I am afraid we do," Arthur replied firmly.
"Well, let's go," Lucius shrugged. "But keep in mind, Arthur, it is unlikely you will find it entertaining. There are no toasters down there, after all."
All of them went back down to the ground floor, and Lucius silently disabled the concealing charms on the door hidden behind one of the tapestries. The door opened with an ominous creak.
Tonks snorted.
"Is it a special feature to scare the captives?" she asked merrily.
"It is a special feature to make sure the children keep their noses clean," Lucius retorted.
"And what do you keep there that the children do not need to know about?" Arthur asked suspiciously.
"Wait a moment, and you will see for yourself."
Lucius led the way down to the basement. The huge underground floor underneath the manor has been used for different purposes over the centuries. The part that could be reached through a regular door from the left of the two side-wing staircases contained a lab and storage for unused magical items, back then and now. Naturally, over the past seven years Lucius either got rid of all the dubious artefacts or moved them into his Gringotts vault, so now only some needlework of a female ancestor, or a decrepit foul-tempered mirror, or other things of the similar nature could be found there. The part that could be reached from the right-wing staircase had once served as a dungeon, but even Abraxas Malfoy loathed using it due to its pitiful condition. After his father's death, Lucius entered the place exactly twice while renewing the manor's protective wards and hoped he would never have to visit it again. The central part, with the secret entrance from the living room, had been constructed as a sort of hiding place in case of an emergency and a vault. It had not been used in either capacity in a long while, but some things were still kept there. The small hall in the middle of this part and the adjoined rooms were lit. Old furniture was strewn about: several armchairs, a table, a few chairs. There were portraits on the walls. As soon as their painted inhabitants saw Lucius, all of them started talking to each other.
"What do you have here?" Tonks asked, looking around in astonishment. "An art gallery?"
"Of a kind," Lucius replied curtly.
"Are you hiding your illustrious family history from your heir, then?" Moody sneered. "I did not expect that from you."
Lucius was itching to put the old bastard in his place, but he knew perfectly well that doing that would hurt his case. So he only shrugged a little and answered as calmly as he was able, "As far as I remember, Moody, you have had the pleasure of meeting my father. Do you really think his portrait would be a worthy companion for children?"
"Especially for Harry Potter," Arthur mumbled pensively.
"Anyway," Lucius continued, "I am not hiding anything. The boys can enter this place only in my presence, however. They have seen the portraits and are familiar with the family history. Do you have any other questions?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tonks open her mouth to ask something, but she seemed to have changed her mind at the last moment. Good. It was not the right time to discuss family ties and other confidential matters.
"We'll pass," Moody grunted and started inspecting the rooms, using magic from time to time to check this or that place in particular. Tonks tried to help him, but she was yawning so widely by this time that the old Auror ordered her to sit down and rest. "Dawlish and I will deal with it."
"What is it? Is that you, Lucius? What is going on?" A displeased voice came from one of the side rooms.
"Excuse me," Lucius said dryly to Arthur and the others. He went away swiftly and approached the portrait. "Yes, it is I. We have guests whom I cannot refuse a short walking tour."
"Cannot or do not want to?"
"The latter," Lucius snapped. "So be so kind as to behave yourself."
"How dare you speak to your father in such a way, boy!" the painted Abraxas flared. "When will you remember your duties and return me to my rightful place?"
"You are not my father," Lucius replied coldly. "You are his portrait. Your purpose is to serve the master of the manor and his heirs. Until you agree to that, your place is here. Do you want to tell me anything else? No? A pity then."
He Silenced the portrait just in case and returned to the Aurors. He wanted nothing more than to ask when they were going to leave, but there was still almost an hour left of their time, and he did not wish to give Moody or Dawlish satisfaction by showing his vexation. So he sat down in one of the worn armchairs, crossed his legs and waited in silence.
"Coffee?" Narcissa offered with perfect courtesy, closing her book and putting it on the table. It looked like she had just finished it. "I can have it made."
Judging by Tonks' brightened face, she was about to agree, but Dawlish beat her to it.
"Sorry, ma'am, it's not allowed."
"Well," Narcissa replied, looking straight at Tonks. "Another time, perhaps."
Tonks smiled, giving a barely visible nod.
"I think we'll be done soon," Arthur announced. He looked tired and a little awkward as if he felt he had outstayed his welcome, but could not find a reason to leave immediately. "Alastor, have you uncovered anything?"
"Of course we haven't," Moody grumbled. "Everything they had in stock for us, we have already found, and anything else wasn't even here. At least, today." He gave Lucius a glare. "Thank you for a lovely evening. If you ever go bankrupt, you can always make a fortune as a miracle-monger at country fairs. Parlour tricks and scam seem to be your vocation."
"Scam?" Lucius quipped. "There would be no scam. Magic is real. The fact that most Muggles do not believe it exists is not my problem."
Tonks giggled.
"What a terrific idea! I think I might be a decent clown if I tried."
Meanwhile Dawlish came to the table and offhandedly picked up the book left by Narcissa.
"What is that? A bodice ripper or a travel guide?" He made a face seeing the title. "Is it Muggle? It doesn't matter, though. Looks like rubbish, anyway."
Intrigued, Tonks came closer to see the book in question.
"Oh!" she exclaimed in pure delight. "I haven't read it yet, only the previous one in the series!" She looked questioningly at Narcissa as if asking to borrow the book, but realised it would lead to another rebuke from Dawlish and refrained, looking embarrassed.
"This, Mr. Dawlish, is called a fantasy book," Narcissa answered, not offended at all. "It is a rather popular genre of contemporary literature."
"There's an awesome story about the City Watch by the same author! I love it!" Tonks chimed in. "Have you read it?" She turned to Arthur, who only shrugged in return.
The only type of books he is probably interested in is manuals to Muggle household appliances, Lucius smirked inside his head. If he knows about their existence, that is.
"With you, one doesn't even need a fair," Moody grumbled. "You're enough of a circus as it is. Let's go, Arthur. You can have the toaster if you like it. And take the briefcase; it might be useful in the office to destroy secret papers. I remember the rest of your dungeons, Malfoy. Are there any changes?"
Lucius shrugged.
"Very little. The lab may be a bit less of a mess than before. Do you want to see it?"
Moody winced as if he had enough of the Malfoy household in general and their dungeons in particular.
"I do not," he replied darkly. "But I must. Show me the lab, and for Merlin's sake no more of your pranks."
They went back up to the sitting room and visited both the right and the left parts of the basement one after another. Moody did not even enter the dungeon part, silently casting several powerful spells to check the cells from outside ("Even spiders don't survive in your basement, Malfoy!"). He barely glanced inside the storage area, grunting something like, "I've seen it all before", and went straight to Narcissa's lab.
"Feel free to inspect anything you want," she said courteously.
Moody looked at her, looked over the spacious room, opened a couple of cabinets, approached the table and stared at the notes strewn there.
"Alchemy?" he drawled slowly. "It is an interesting hobby."
Narcissa shrugged.
"One needs something to keep oneself busy while the children are at Hogwarts. Why not this?"
"Indeed," he chuckled. "Why not? Alright, I think we're done here."
He looked questioningly at Arthur.
"Of course," he agreed hastily. "We already took up too much of your time."
It was unclear who he had in mind: the Malfoys or his colleagues. As soon as they returned to the main hall, Arthur turned to Lucius.
"Again, I apologise for such a late night visit," he said calmly, looking him in the eye. It was clear there was no remorse, only some awkwardness at the comical results of their endeavour. "Thank you for your patience."
Lucius had to admit that his old adversary could lose with dignity. Either that or he in his innocence did not even realise that his position allowed him to be petty.
"Thank you for the visit," he smirked in return. "I hope you are not too tired."
"Your hopes are in vain," Moody grumbled. "Arthur, Dawlish, let's go before we're thrown out. I have no wish to experience the family protective wards in action."
"You have another ten minutes," Narcissa prompted, smiling at Tonks.
The girl winked in reply, waved her hand once and ran after her colleagues who were already heading towards the gates.
Since there was no need to show them the way out, Lucius stayed at the doorstep, keeping an eye on their retreating visitors. The day was already dawning, birds were chirping in the park, as once again the Malfoy manor unobtrusively, but efficiently got rid of the unwanted guests and was ready to face another long sunny day – one of the few left of this summer.
"How much of this did Arthur Weasley understand?" Narcissa mused.
Lucius looked at his wife in surprise.
"Arthur? Why are you interested in him? I thought you would ask about Tonks. By the way, what do you think of her? Her magic is very similar to yours."
Narcissa smiled tenderly.
"Such a wonderful girl. A true Black. She is not a Tonks, last name notwithstanding. I hope we will see a lot more of her, whatever Andy's answer will be. And I am sure she understood everything right. As well as Moody did."
Lucius nodded.
"He did not even hide it. And Dawlish did not care about the outcome. Arthur… I do not know. I could never understand this man's way of thinking." He made a slight grimace because it was unpleasant to admit that.
"That is because you are a chess player," Narcissa observed sombrely. "It is very difficult to play chess when your opponent keeps playing gobstones or exploding snap."
Lucius laughed, but his laughter was suddenly interrupted by a very real yawn.
"Sorry," he said. "I think I really am tired."
Narcissa hooked her arm through his, and they finally went to bed.
Footnote:
What is that? A bodice ripper or a travel guide? – The book Petunia loaned to Lucius is Witches Abroad. This novel by Sir Terry Pratchett was first published at the end of 1991. Guard! Guard! that Tonks refers to was published in 1989.