novelraw Chapter 28: The Special Underground Room
Chapter 28: The Special Underground Room
Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Special Underground Room
There were two staircases leading to the cellars in Malfoy Manor.
Arthur Weasley of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office believed he knew everything about what lay at the ends of those two staircases—he'd thoroughly examined them during the search of Malfoy Manor.
He believed he knew perfectly well what rooms those two staircases led to:
One of them was a potions laboratory that Narcissa Malfoy had recently opened for her beloved son. It was filled with bottles and phials, and rare potion ingredients were everywhere.
The Malfoy family, known for their extravagant spending, truly spared no effort in grooming their heir. Arthur couldn't help but think, glancing at the row of seemingly superfluous pure gold cauldrons.
Another staircase led to a dark and sunless dungeon. The mottled marks on the iron doors and pillars undoubtedly revealed to Arthur its grim past, though it was now empty.
"What's this for?" Arthur walked around the wide area, kicking up a cloud of dust. He sneezed and said skeptically, "It looks quite old."
"This place is a relic of history—we haven't used it for a long time. I admit it's not aesthetically pleasing, but that shouldn't be grounds for deeming it a restricted room, should it?" Lucius stood in the doorway, refusing to take another step—trying to avoid the swirling dust in the center of the room—and said with a forced smile.
The head of the Malfoy family was casually stroking his snake-headed cane, standing tall and straight before the Ministry officials who'd suddenly come to inspect his home, exuding an aura of authority and showing no fear whatsoever.
Arthur looked somewhat embarrassed.
He looked around and regretfully admitted that there was nothing there but dust. Glancing at Lucius's sardonic, half-smiling expression, Arthur said somewhat sheepishly to his colleague Perkins, who was clutching his back and sneezing incessantly, "There's really nothing amiss. Let's call it a day... Let's go."
"I told you so," Lucius said arrogantly, leading them up the stairs. "The Malfoy family has always supported the Ministry of Magic. I don't understand why your office would inspect law-abiding pure-blood wizarding families like ours. If your office continues to trespass on the Malfoys' property without prior notice, I'm afraid I shall consider you trespassers and complain to dear Cornelius."
"The point of a surprise inspection is to catch people off guard. We can't let those being inspected know in advance, and the Ministry has already approved our methods. I don't think we need to inform anyone beforehand," Arthur said bluntly. "As for why we're inspecting the Malfoy family, we did receive some anonymous tips, and they're not unfounded."
A flicker of anger flashed in those indifferent gray eyes—Lucius was extremely displeased with these uninvited visitors. Ordinary wizards certainly didn't have the privilege of freely entering and leaving the highly exclusive Malfoy Manor.
Arthur Weasley was simply wielding Ministry authority. If it weren't for the title he held at the Ministry, how could he have so arrogantly knocked on the Malfoy family's door?
Did he think the Malfoys were afraid of him?
Look at his swaggering manner! Lucius was secretly furious.
Being treated as a suspect, having one's home invaded and one's privacy violated—whatever the reason, it was a great offense to a Malfoy.
"If you keep taking the slander of your enemies as truth, this kind of fruitless and inefficient search will never end. Do they... pay you overtime?" Lucius's gaze slowly slid over Arthur, scrutinizing his robes. "It seems not. Merlin's beard, what's the point of being a 'blood traitor' if you can't even get a decent reward?"
Arthur's face immediately turned red.
"We have completely different views on what constitutes a blood traitor, Malfoy," he said through gritted teeth.
"Betraying pure-bloods and protecting Muggles—you get nothing in return. School's about to start, and with so many children at home, you still have to buy second-hand wands and books. Do you think they'll thank their father?" Lucius flashed a standard, impeccable smile, his malice lurking beneath his words.
Lucius Malfoy always avoided openly displaying his personal grievances and was adept at exchanging pleasantries with those who disagreed with him. However, if anyone dared to challenge the dignity of a Malfoy, intending to tarnish the family's reputation, infringe upon their safety, or encroach upon their interests, he would absolutely not let them off easily.
Lucius considered himself a master at responding to provocations. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze darting between the two men's robes to subtly convey his contempt.
Even Perkins, who was suffering from back pain and unable to concentrate on his work, noticed it. Lucius Malfoy's expensive velvet black robes, accentuated by his platinum-blond hair, made him look incredibly aristocratic. This made Arthur's old, plain robes look even more shabby.
He braced himself against his back and tried to pull his colleague away. "Forget it, Arthur, let's go."
"Be careful. If we keep getting reports, we'll be back. It's my job, and I have to get it done, whether you like it or not." Arthur followed Perkins out of the Malfoy house, turned around, straightened his back, and adopted a righteous posture, trying his best to hide the embarrassment of being ridiculed in front of his colleague. "As for my children, I believe they can judge the quality of their parents, so you don't need to worry about them."
"Hmph, quality..." Lucius chuckled mockingly, eyeing Arthur Weasley's defiant expression outside the door. Despite his anger, he maintained composure, refraining from uttering a single curse to this incorrigible Ministry official.
"Goodbye, and don't bother coming back," he said coldly, slamming the gates of Malfoy Manor shut in front of Weasley and Perkins.
"Arthur Weasley, that disgraceful pure-blood traitor, is unworthy of being one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight!" Lucius said to Narcissa, who was descending the stairs, his nostrils flaring. "His whole family lives in a hovel, yet he dares to discuss quality in front of a Malfoy? Does he even deserve it?"
"Ignore him. It's not worth getting angry over someone like that," Narcissa said. "We'd better stay away from wizards who are ostracized by pure-blood family social circles, lest we get ourselves into trouble. There's no benefit in associating with them, and there's no need to waste time making enemies with them, which would only lower our own standing."
"I know! I don't want to deal with him. I always keep a 'live and let live' attitude toward people like him," Lucius said, suppressing his anger. "You know I've been very busy lately. I'd rather spend that time dining with Cornelius Fudge and figuring out some new ways to increase our wealth!"
"I heard what he said. He probably didn't consult with Fudge, his superior, and this surprise inspection was entirely his own decision," Narcissa said, a slight wrinkle appearing on her brow. "How could Fudge employ such a Ministry official? He has no political acumen or self-awareness whatsoever. Working in the Ministry, how can he be so obtuse and unable to read between the lines?"
"Exactly. I haven't dealt with such self-destructive Ministry officials in ages! They clearly get nothing out of it, yet they still deliberately offend people!" Lucius said impatiently. "For something invisible and intangible, he's ruined his reputation... Protecting Muggle interests is something he could deal with superficially—does he really think the Ministry cares? No matter how much he does, no one will thank him! Does he expect Muggles to thank him? Muggles don't even know wizards exist. Wizards won't thank him either, because it brings more inconvenience. Even the Ministry won't thank him—they won't even give him an extra Galleon!"
"The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office... I've heard that the Ministry supported the establishment of such an office to protect careless wizards from being discovered by Muggles and causing chaos. But he, on the other hand, calls himself the 'protector of Muggles,' only concerned with Muggle safety, without considering wizarding rights, completely putting the cart before the horse." Narcissa said thoughtfully, casually brushing a speck of dust off her husband's shoulder. "However, I suspect he's being used as a pawn by the Malfoys' enemies. It's laughable that he's so enthusiastic, even declaring that he's going to get his job done."
"That's right. If Weasley had just asked his superior Fudge, he wouldn't have had to come all this way today," Lucius said, his tone softening slightly.
"Anyway, being targeted by someone so incorruptible is troublesome," Narcissa said worriedly to her husband. "Lucius, you have to be careful. I don't think he'll give up so easily."
Lucius had a gloomy expression and said nothing.
Draco silently stood on the second-floor landing, peering down at the scene below. He'd overheard his parents' conversation and seen the look of disgust on Lucius's face as he'd seen Mr. Weasley off.
Currently, he had no way to resolve the stalemate between the two.
The Malfoy and Weasley families had completely opposite values. The heads of the two families often thought and acted on completely different wavelengths.
Even after being reborn and knowing that the Weasleys had shown keen judgment and chosen the right side, Draco still didn't believe he completely agreed with all of the Weasleys' beliefs, just as he didn't believe his father's beliefs were without fault.
They each had their strengths and their own standards for conducting themselves. It was unrealistic to expect either of them to completely transform or fully understand the other.
However, this didn't prevent them from seeking common ground while reserving differences and pursuing cooperation.
The two families didn't have any deep-seated hatred that was irreconcilable—they weren't incapable of standing on the same side.
However, changing this situation wouldn't be easy. Draco sighed, pondering the matter, then quietly disappeared at the end of the second-floor corridor.
At the breakfast table the next day, Lucius, still resentful of Mr. Weasley's rudeness, not only hadn't calmed down but instead vented his resentment again—he'd found a new angle to criticize Mr. Weasley:
"You know, Cissy, I look down on that Weasley, not just because he supports Muggles and betrays the concept of pure-blood supremacy, and not just because he's obtuse about social dynamics, but also because I don't think he's a responsible father..."
Narcissa looked up with interest, silently encouraging her husband to express more of his thoughts with her gaze.
"A good father should provide his child with the best material conditions and living environment, ensuring the child lacks nothing and is full of confidence," Lucius said pompously. "Reckless procreation is irresponsible and will bring painful consequences to the new life. How can a couple have enough energy to raise seven children? I've heard they're all dressed in rags, running around in the fields, being ridiculed..."
"It does sound rather irresponsible," Narcissa said, puzzled. "Raising one child is difficult enough, but seven? How do they have time to provide proper education for their children? Can their early education keep up? Can they provide targeted training based on each child's talents? How much time can they dedicate to each child in a twenty-four-hour day? Can each child receive sufficient attention from their parents? It's terrifying, simply unimaginable."
"Precisely. Raising one child carefully is far superior to haphazardly raising a brood of children. Besides, you had enough difficulty having one child! I don't want to experience that ordeal a second time." Lucius said with lingering fear, his face paling as he took Narcissa's hand beneath the table.
Narcissa silently returned his grip.
"Draco, you foolish boy! Listen to your mother and don't make her angry! She gave birth to you and raised you with great difficulty—do you understand?" Lucius suddenly turned his head and said fiercely to his son.
Father, isn't it a bit inappropriate to use this "praise one and criticize another" tactic just to create a lively atmosphere? Draco, who'd been inexplicably called out, felt like an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire, like a prop for displaying affection, and he was speechless.
However, Lucius's words, though abrupt, did make some sense. Draco's expression turned serious. He nodded to his father and gave his mother an affectionate look.
"Lucius, don't frighten the child. Little Dragon has always been very obedient." Narcissa smiled gently at her well-behaved son, then looked back at her husband and said tenderly, "My dear, you have always been very considerate of me. I have no interest in being a brood mare, and I cherish your respect for my wishes. However, I do not regret having Little Dragon. He is the most accomplished child in the world, and I cannot imagine any other son being superior to ours."
Mother, have you forgotten William Weasley's twelve O.W.L.s? Or Charlie Weasley's near-selection for England's national Quidditch team? In two years, Percy Weasley will also appear with twelve O.W.L.s, eager to enter the Ministry. Draco lowered his eyes, thinking to himself that it couldn't be said the Weasley children were entirely without merit.
Narcissa didn't care how much other people's sons had accomplished. She only focused her attention on her own son—the son into whom she'd poured all her heart and soul.
Right now, her little dragon was sitting elegantly in his chair, silently and skillfully cutting his steak. Thinking of Professor Snape's praise and his top-of-the-year report card, she felt immense pride.
Draco, meanwhile, continued to eat his breakfast with downcast eyes and a calm mind. He didn't dare tell them that he was having close communication and contact with the Weasley children, whom they looked down upon.
At this moment, several more letters were hidden in Draco's antique writing desk:
Draco:
I'll go rescue Harry today. Don't worry, I have a plan. Thank you for telling me.
Ron
Draco:
I heard Ron rescued Harry—that's wonderful! It seems this was a joint idea of yours and Ron's. When did you two become so close?
Also, I plan to go to Diagon Alley on August 12th to buy books and supplies for the start of term. Harry and Ron will be going around that time too. See you then, if we have the chance.
Hermione
Draco:
I certainly don't mind that you sent a house-elf to Privet Drive to check on me—I'm more curious about what it looks like than angry—I know you were worried about me. In fact, if you hadn't warned Ron and made him decide to come get me, I might have used magic to escape that place. The consequences could have been much worse.
I had a brilliant time at Ron's—the Weasleys were very kind. We're going to Diagon Alley next Wednesday, August 12th, and I've told Hermione. Are you coming?
Harry
At this moment, the recipient of these letters was not in his usual places—not in the library, the potions laboratory, the private Quidditch pitch, the woodland paths of the manor, or his own bedroom.
Draco was wandering around somewhere in the cellars of the manor.
To be fair, it wasn't entirely unjust that Mr. Weasley had come to search the Malfoys' home.
How could a building as historic as Malfoy Manor have cellars that were simply a newly opened potions laboratory and a dungeon that had been deliberately aged?
He passed through a hidden door behind the bookshelves in the potions laboratory, followed an inconspicuous passageway past the broom cupboard and the wand room, and finally arrived at a stone wall.
He skillfully touched a tiny protrusion on the wall, and a hidden stone door slowly opened.
That was the forbidden collection room, located directly below the drawing room of Malfoy Manor—the so-called secret room where Dobby had found that little black diary.
A wisp of smoke drifted out from inside the door, and Draco quickly took several steps back. As the smoke gradually dissipated, Dobby cautiously stretched out his arm and held a candle inside, observing intently for a while.
"There shouldn't be any problem," Dobby said confidently. "The candles didn't go out, and they didn't explode. You can come in now, young master. I'll show you the way."
Draco gave Dobby an approving look. He hadn't expected the house-elf to be so cautious. Holding his candlestick, he followed Dobby through the stone door, warily and curiously surveying everything inside.
"So you come here often?" Draco asked Dobby.
"Yes, young master. There are many Dark artefacts here. In the past, Dobby would come to clean them every fortnight. Maintaining the artefacts, dusting and such." Dobby respectfully led its young master past several marble shelves carved with intricate serpent patterns, examining them all.
"Why would they send you to such a secluded place?" Draco asked. "Didn't you say you used to... feel neglected?"
"Because it's extremely dangerous here—one wrong step and you could lose your life. None of the other house-elves wanted to come, so after a while, they just passed the responsibility to Dobby," Dobby said, blinking its large, luminous eyes in the darkness.
"Do house-elves really pick and choose and avoid hard work?" Draco was extremely surprised—he'd previously thought they weren't very intelligent and had little judgment.
"When their masters aren't looking, house-elves also argue about assigning tasks... They all want to serve the mistress, because her tasks are the easiest, and she's relatively kind. The house-elves who can curry favor with the mistress are more likely to gain respect among the other elves." Dobby chuckled softly, then shook its head dismissively.
Draco could hear its ears snapping against its head with great force. There seemed to be a hint of pride in its voice. "But right now, Dobby is the happiest! Dobby gets paid, he gets days off—they don't! Dobby likes this life, even though they spit on him and think he's a traitor!"
"Speaking of which, you played a significant part in saving Harry last time," Draco said, a sudden, inexplicable pity for Dobby creeping into his heart. "I've decided to improve your wages, from one Galleon a month to one Galleon a week."
"Dobby doesn't—" The little elf suddenly stopped all other movements, leaving only the candle in its hand trembling violently in the darkness.
"Unless you think Harry Potter is unimportant and saving him isn't something to be rewarded for," Draco said casually. "If you think he's some kind of flobberworm or something, you can refuse."
"Of course not! Dobby would never think that way! The great Harry Potter! He's Dobby's idol—how could he be a flobberworm—" Dobby said vehemently.
"Then it's settled. Whoever saved the great Harry Potter did a great deed and deserves a reward," Draco said, recalling the little elf's amazing acts in his previous life. "If good deeds go unrewarded, who would be willing to do good deeds?"
"But Dobby didn't save him for a raise! Even without a raise, Dobby would still save him! A thousand times over!" Dobby said in a shrill voice.
"Yes! I don't doubt your sincerity," Draco said. "But what about the others?"
"Other people?" the little elf asked, puzzled.
"How can you guarantee that everyone is as selfless as you? What if someone else has the ability to save Harry Potter but hesitates? If there's a reward, they'll work even harder to save Harry Potter. Without a reward, they might miss the opportunity while hesitating." Draco smiled in the darkness. "Wasn't your intention in doing this to save Harry Potter? You weren't doing it for your own raise, nor to prove your sincerity. You're not taking this reward for yourself—it's to encourage more capable people who can't be as selfless as you to save Harry Potter at the right time. Doesn't that align with your original intention?"
"It seems... that's not wrong," Dobby said, still feeling confused.
"Very well. It's settled then." Draco, seeing that things were going well, resumed his lazy, masterful demeanor. "Well then, let's not waste any more time. Continue with your work and introduce these collections to me."
Upon hearing the word "work," Dobby stiffened and immediately dropped the argument. "It seems the number of items in the collection has decreased recently. Dobby heard from the elves who were in charge of cleaning that the master took some Dark artefacts and went to Knockturn Alley a few days ago."
Draco wasn't surprised by this.
He'd already warned his father about the "Ministry's planned surprise inspection," so Lucius couldn't have been completely unprepared. It was perfectly normal for him to become more conservative about Dark artefacts.
Nevertheless, there were still quite a few eye-catching items on the shelves: blood-stained playing cards, glass eyes, skulls, nooses, and rusty, fang-like instruments...
Draco even saw some familiar items—an opal necklace and the Hand of Glory.
He'd had no idea that some of the items he'd seen at Borgin and Burkes in his previous life had originally belonged to the Malfoy family. Merlin, just how many Dark artefacts had Father accumulated over the years, and how many things had he sold off?
"What's this?" Suddenly, Draco noticed an inconspicuous little black diary on the shelf and asked Dobby, "Is this the one you gave me last time?"
"No, young master," Dobby said shrilly. "That diary has already been taken away by the old master. This is another one—a very dangerous diary!"
"How dangerous? The kind that sprays out poisonous liquid and fumes when you open it?" Draco held the candle closer to examine it.
"When Dobby opened it, it was blank. But when he touched it, Dobby felt a deep fear—there might be very cruel Dark magic on it." Dobby couldn't help but shudder.
When Draco examined them up close, he noticed the difference between the two little books.
The diary he'd seen before had a cover made of a single piece of black leather, making it impossible to discern any writing. Although this diary also had a black cover, upon closer inspection, one could still find the name "T.M. Riddle" written on it.
Who was T.M. Riddle? He frowned in confusion. He'd never heard that name among any pure-blood wizarding families.
This T.M. Riddle must have done something extraordinary with the Dark Arts. Otherwise, his father wouldn't have hidden his diary here so carefully, Draco thought as he surveyed the other Dark artefacts in the room.
After examining these things, Draco found nothing else unusual and closed the stone door again.
The corridor on the other side of the stone door was deep and long. Draco knew there were several other similar stone doors that weren't easily noticed. Behind them were rooms for storing valuables and forbidden books, and even a small sitting room.
That said, unless one had Malfoy blood, no one else could open these stone doors. Even if the dutiful Mr. Weasley found this place, he'd have to return empty-handed.
Instead of checking the other stone doors, he returned along the same route.
He emerged from the hidden door and casually pressed something, and the bookshelf returned to its proper place as if it had never been opened.
It was getting late. Draco leisurely walked out of the potions laboratory, climbed the stairs, and planned to return to his room to rest.
Suddenly remembering something, he asked Dobby, who was still quietly following him, "What is Father doing with that unnamed diary? Do you know?"
"Dobby happened to overhear a little bit... when the old master came looking for the diary, he was muttering 'Horcrux,'" Dobby glanced at Draco nervously. "Dobby didn't dare listen any longer—Dobby shouldn't pry into the masters' privacy."
Draco nodded slightly and dismissed Dobby.
He went back to his room and deftly manipulated the desk until he pulled out a small black diary. This wasn't the named diary from the secret room but the unnamed little diary Dobby had brought him to research Horcruxes.
He lay on the bed, studying the diary over and over, trying to find some clues.
The diary must be extraordinary to mention such profound Dark magic as Horcruxes. It seemed even his usually indifferent grandfather had an unusual interest in it.
This was more of a notebook than a diary.
It was covered with handwritten text and symbols, some of which he couldn't understand at all, and some were blurred due to age. The handwriting didn't even seem to be from the same person, and some of the language appeared to be Ancient Greek.
It appeared that someone had translated the Ancient Greek text based on this notebook, turning it into fragments of English.
That's what the text about Horcruxes said.
However, this translation was incomplete—some parts were vague and lacked annotations. To understand these specific details, Draco would need to learn Ancient Greek.
Merlin! I'm so exhausted! Please don't give me any more new tasks! Draco rolled over, covered his face, and lay on his back on his bed, wanting to give up like never before.