Chapter 245 – The Exceptionally Clean Malfoy House
Outside the window, the white peacock shrieked. Draco Malfoy sat on a lounge chair, staring out with boredom.
He had never understood why such a beautiful bird could sound so unpleasant.
Rubbing his eyes, Draco frowned as sunlight bounced off the spotless floor and reflected straight onto his forehead. "Why is it so clean?"
Ever since he had told Dobby not to hurt himself, the manor had become much cleaner—far cleaner than it ever was before.
His parents had even praised him:
"Draco, my good son, pride of the Malfoys—your kind words have made Dobby work harder than ever."
But this… this was too clean. Even the floor gleamed like a mirror.
Draco knew Dobby was not a normal elf. He was unstable, unqualified, even dangerous. Unlike most of his kind, Dobby wanted freedom. Every time he thought such rebellious thoughts, he punished himself—sometimes through cleaning. Judging by the manor's current state, Dobby must have been dreaming of freedom constantly.
Draco hesitated. Should he let Dobby go free?
His father had always said, "We do this for Dobby's own good. A dismissed house-elf cannot easily find work—least of all one who wants wages."
Those words echoed in his mind, but soon another thought distracted him.
Harry Potter.
The so-called savior of the wizarding world—handsome, brilliant at his studies, and a natural Seeker. People tripped over themselves to befriend him.
Harry was the next captain of Ravenclaw's Quidditch team, and he had even defeated Voldemort in single combat.
Sometimes Draco wondered: Am I really worthy of being Harry's friend?
My father was a Death Eater—Voldemort's lackey.
Ron's father, meanwhile, is a member of the Order of the Phoenix and a respected pioneer in the Ministry.
I wish I were Ron.
It had been ten days since Draco last saw Harry at Dudley Dursley's house, and no letter had arrived. Even Ron hadn't written. The silence left Draco restless, plagued with insecurity.
Surely Harry and Ron had decided to leave him behind.
What Draco didn't realize was that Ron, who he thought had every right to stand at Harry's side, was caught in the same worry.
Ron didn't see himself as qualified at all. To him, being the son of Arthur Weasley—a man admired across the wizarding world—only made his own mediocrity more obvious next to Harry's brilliance.
Ron also feared Harry had abandoned him for Draco.
But unlike Draco, Ron wasn't alone. He had siblings, even if he couldn't confide in them. He couldn't tell Charlie or Bill, since they were away. He couldn't tell Ginny, since she had already cried over thinking Ron had "taken Harry away." He couldn't tell Percy, who spent the holidays buried in study. His parents were busy dividing their energy between work, chores, and Ginny's emotions.
Only Fred and George noticed. And they noticed something important—Hedwig hadn't arrived at the Burrow in days.
That was enough to spark suspicion. Could the Dursleys be blocking Harry's letters again? They had tried to prevent him from returning to Hogwarts once before.
Fred and George urged Ron to write. Using the family's new owl, Zhu Weiqiong (Errol was far too old now—Arthur had gotten the owl as part of an "exchange" while researching Muggle technology with Sirius), Ron sent a letter to Malfoy Manor.
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Letter to Draco Malfoy
Hello Draco,
Didn't we agree to go to Sirius's house on the 21st, with Harry? Remember, the 31st is Harry's birthday. Have you talked to him about it?
I haven't been able to reach Harry by letter lately. What about you?
If you haven't either, then I suspect the Dursleys are interfering again. Please reply quickly. If necessary, I'll try to contact Sirius.
—Your classmate,
Ron Weasley
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Draco nearly laughed aloud when he read it.
"So, he hasn't gotten a reply either!" Draco muttered, his pale cheeks turning pink. "Why did I even think Ron was better than me? Of course it's the Dursleys' fault!"
He clapped his hands. "Dobby! Bring parchment and ink. I need to reply!"
With a snap, the house-elf appeared, ears twitching, eyes shining like lamps. He bowed low, snapped his fingers, and a quill, parchment, ink, and an envelope appeared neatly on a table. Then he vanished again.
Draco eagerly sat down to write back.
---
Meanwhile, at Number Four Privet Drive, Harry Potter lay hidden in the flowerbed outside.
He was daydreaming about what it would be like to finally see Ron and the others again—whether in three days or at the end of the month.
A faint crackle broke the silence. Harry lifted his head, scanning the road for a car with a flat tire.
Instead, his eyes widened. His heart nearly stopped.
A house-elf!
If Ron and the others hadn't once checked the Hogwarts library about wizarding slavery, Harry would have thought it was some sort of monster. But house-elves, he remembered, only served old and wealthy wizarding families. Of those Harry knew, that meant Sirius, Draco… and Alexander Smith.
The Weasleys didn't own one. Mrs. Weasley had always dreamed of hiring an elf to help with laundry, but such creatures only came with ancient manors and estates.
Harry swallowed, forcing himself calm. The tiny elf looked close to tears.
"Hello," Harry said softly. "Were you sent here by Sirius?"
After all, it seemed unlikely Draco or Alexander would dare send their family's elf to contact him. Only Sirius, unpredictable as ever, might try something like this.
(End of this chapter)
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