"What is this?" Harry asked as he unpacked it.
"Gobstones. I remember you quite liked this game." Draco shrugged.
"Wow..." Harry finally opened the package, exclaimed in delight at the solid gold Gobstones set, and said excitedly, "I have wanted to buy this for a long time."
Draco smiled faintly, knowing that his advice had not been wrong.
However, Harry's bright smile seemed somewhat out of place in the dimly lit room. He hesitated for a moment, then finally abandoned his politeness: "Does the Black manor not have house-elves?"
"There is one, Kreacher. He is in charge of cooking our meals, but they are not very good. I do not think he likes us." Harry fiddled with the stones, his eyes shining, oblivious to the offensiveness in Draco's question.
"I should have brought you some more snacks. Did you not ask Kreacher to clean the room?" Draco continued to ask bluntly.
"Of course, he claims he has been cleaning for a month. But the house gets dirtier and darker every day," Harry shrugged, as if it were nothing new.
"This is ridiculous. Do you even know how to use house-elves?" Draco shook his head, unable to stand the filthy environment any longer. He snapped his fingers into the air. "Dobby."
Dobby appeared in front of the bed with a thud.
Upon seeing Harry, its face lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight, and it exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, "Honourable Young master! And the great Harry Potter!"
"Clean Harry's room. Immediately, right now, the sooner the better," Draco ordered.
Dobby nodded quickly. This house-elf was quite experienced in this matter; not long ago, he had cleaned up the two-storey house in Hogsmeade Village, clearing away all the old junk and rubbish left behind by Mrs Mason, earning high praise from the Weasley twins.
Whilst Dobby was cleaning the room, Draco helped Harry try out several rounds of Gobstones, both of them ending up with smelly faces. By the time they wiped their faces clean and looked around, the room had been completely transformed.
The wallpaper was spotless, the windows were immaculate, the furniture was gleaming, the blankets on the bed were soft and fluffy, and the room even smelt faintly of cologne.
Dobby stood respectfully by the door, proudly puffing out his chest, and said, "My esteemed master and Harry Potter, is there anything else Dobby can do?"
"That is enough, that is enough, that is perfect." Harry was speechless at the completely transformed environment; he had not yet recovered from the shock.
"Go and clean up the sitting room upstairs for Harry," Draco said lazily. "Put away the rubbish and put the dangerous items aside."
Dobby nodded smugly and then vanished.
"This is the proper way to use a house-elf," Draco said to Harry with satisfaction. He took out his wand, cast a Muffliato charm on the door, and then revealed his true purpose to Harry.
"Have you asked about his experience in Azkaban?" Draco asked seriously.
"I asked him, but he would not say. He always brushed it off when we got to that point, so I did not dare ask again," Harry said, puzzled, not understanding why Draco would bring it up.
"It is normal that he is reluctant to talk about it. Azkaban is a wizarding prison located on a remote island, far from human habitation. It is guarded by a group of terrible creatures called Dementors who feed on the souls of others," Draco mused.
"Dementors?" Harry asked curiously. It was a completely new term to him.
"This is hardly an interesting species," Draco said with disgust.
At this moment, Harry looked puzzled, completely unaware of the horror of the Dementors.
Draco sighed silently to himself.
Dementors will be your greatest fear, your Boggart.
"Dementors are called 'soulless demons'." After pondering for a whilst, he decided to give Harry a little lesson.
Harry was bound to find out about it sooner or later. Rather than being caught off guard and terrified by the Dementors, it was better to be mentally prepared beforehand.
He gazed at Harry's blank, bewildered face and said solemnly, "They feed on people's positive emotions. Once prisoners are imprisoned for a period of time, they lose all their beliefs, good feelings, and thoughts. The darkest, most terrible memories keep replaying in their minds. Some go mad, and some die in despair."
"No wonder Hagrid is so afraid of Azkaban." Harry's face showed a thoughtful expression.
In his second year, Hagrid was almost sent to Azkaban because he was suspected of opening the Chamber of Secrets, and he was terrified of it at the time—and he was already one of the bravest and most fearless people Harry had ever met.
"Most of the prisoners went insane within weeks. But your godfather stayed there for a full eleven years," Draco said expressionlessly.
"What did he go through there?" Harry could not help but ask, a look of fear and pity on his face.
In recent days, he had not seriously considered what Sirius had actually experienced in the wizarding prison. He was completely absorbed in the joy of living with his godfather; besides, Sirius was trying his best to appear indifferent.
"None of us know except him," Draco said calmly. "As you can see, he is nothing short of a miracle. You see, he is physically weak, but he has not had a mental breakdown. He must have some way of getting rid of the Dementors, and those same methods could be used by Peter Pettigrew."
"I understand." Harry frowned, looking worried. "I will try to talk to him again…"
Whether it was the method to get rid of the Dementors, or his life in Azkaban... he wanted to know about his godfather, he wanted to know everything...
Their conversation was interrupted at this point—several shrill screams, interspersed with curses, came from downstairs.
Draco's silencing spell only blocked outside prying eyes, but he could still hear the noises outside the room. Hearing the noise, he and Harry hurriedly went downstairs to the second-floor sitting room to see what was going on.