"Harry Potter- Ravenclaw"Chapter 188: Dobby's Memory
Dumbledore couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Snape so visibly agitated.
He could already imagine the reaction if he dared to say, "We need to hand Harry over to Voldemort, so Voldemort can obtain Lily's 'love.'"
Snape would fight it with everything he had—after all, the only reason he'd stayed at Hogwarts was because Harry would one day walk those halls.
But to explain things fully would mean introducing the concept of the Commandment—a step Dumbledore wasn't ready to take.
At least, not with Snape. Seeking a matching Commandment was an ordeal in itself, and Snape's hatred for Voldemort would only drive him to make reckless sacrifices.
Besides, even if Dumbledore kept the secret, Snape was sharp enough to suspect Wyzett—and might dig out the truth from him instead.
Better to avoid unnecessary complications. Dumbledore glanced at the glass vial beside him, where silvery threads of Dobby's memory shimmered softly.
He cleared his throat. "Severus, at this point, there's only one thing I know for sure—we can defeat Voldemort with 'love.'"
Snape narrowed his eyes. "I can confirm something too—if you're hungry, eat. Brilliant deduction, isn't it?"
"And if your mind's feeling foggy, I'd suggest a double dose of Calming Draught. Enough riddles—what exactly do you want me to do?"
"It's a process of piecing together clues…" Dumbledore picked up the vial, gripping it tightly.
"Just like last year, when we learned—through Wyzett and Harry—that Voldemort wasn't truly dead… This year is much the same. You see what I mean, don't you?"
"I used the basilisk skin fragment, and a little guiding magic, to glimpse some things. I'm certain now: Voldemort's weakness is 'love.'"
Snape pressed his thumb and forefinger together, staring at Dumbledore as if searching for the slightest hint of a lie.
But Dumbledore was a master Occlumens—and far older. When he chose to be serious, not even a flicker of doubt would show on his face.
Raising the vial, Dumbledore asked, "Severus, aren't you curious about Dobby's memory? There might be something… useful in it."
Snape met his gaze, eyes dark and unreadable. "Let's see it, then."
The two of them stood before the Pensieve. With a dizzying rush, they found themselves in a lavishly decorated sitting room.
"Malfoy Manor's drawing room," Snape observed coolly.
They stood behind the fireplace, where Dobby was crouched in the shadows, listening intently to a conversation between Lucius and his guest.
Snape glanced at the man across from Lucius—a heavyset, middle-aged wizard. "Crabbe Senior. Vincent Crabbe's father. Like Lucius, he dodged Azkaban after the war."
"Obvious resemblance," Dumbledore murmured, nodding.
Crabbe Senior's voice was thick with anxiety. "That Arthur led a raid on my house! Lucius, they fined me a fortune! And some of your things were taken too…"
"I know…" Lucius yawned, lazily stirring his tea.
He didn't bother to look at Crabbe, as if the cup in his hand was far more important. "I'll cover the fines for you. After all, you were just holding those items for me…"
Crabbe waved his hands, forcing a smile. "Oh, come now, we're friends, aren't we? You don't have to… but thanks all the same!"
"Still, Lucius—Arthur's gone too far! We ought to do something about it… He's making us pure-bloods look like fools!"
"They're the disgrace of pure-blood society…" Lucius took a delicate sip. "As it happens, I've got something the Dark Lord left behind… Maybe I'll let them have it."
At that, Dobby clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a gasp.
Crabbe leaned in, lowering his voice. "Lucius, are you… framing them?"
"Framing?" Lucius arched an eyebrow. "I call it charity. They live in that dump—getting something from the Dark Lord is hardly a curse, is it?"
Crabbe bobbed his head. "Right! Charity! Doing a good deed!"
…
The memory shifted, but the scene remained in the drawing room.
Dobby had just finished tending the incense when Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy stepped out of the fireplace. Lucius looked grim.
Listening to Lucius and Narcissa's exchange, Snape and Dumbledore didn't bat an eye.
For pure-blood families, a manor without dark artifacts would be the real oddity.
Lucius made his way to the study. Dobby crept to the doorway, ears pressed to the wood, listening.
"The Dark Mark reappeared… Dumbledore protected the Dark Lord…" Snape arched a brow. "So Lucius had the same experience."
"But Wyzett is in the clear," Dumbledore mused, stroking his beard. "Just an extraordinary coincidence."
Summoned inside, Draco joined his father in the study, while Dobby resumed eavesdropping at the corner.
"Professor Snape actually gave him an 'O'—and he's a Ravenclaw…" Dumbledore's lips twitched with amusement.
"If I were still teaching, I'd have given him an 'O' too."
Snape pursed his lips but didn't argue.
Anyone who sat through his private lessons and failed to earn an 'O'—now that would be suspicious.
The conversation between Lucius and Draco carried on. Dumbledore—well aware of Snape's relationship with the Malfoys—kept silent.
Draco left the study, face drawn with worry and confusion. The moment he was gone, Dobby was back at the door, bat-like ears pressed tight.
Inside, Lucius seemed to be searching for something. Silence stretched on and on.
Dobby didn't budge, still as a statue, listening for the faintest sound.
If even a house-elf could be this patient, neither Dumbledore nor Snape felt inclined to speak. They simply waited for the memory to play out.
At last, Lucius let out a long, weary sigh.
"Is the Dark Lord here to remind me? Or… is he warning me?"
Hearing Lucius's anxious muttering, both Dumbledore and Snape exchanged odd looks.
Lucius's rambling continued, "The Dark Lord must be playing a long game! Hiding right under Dumbledore's nose—he's chosen the perfect blind spot."
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