“Draco, come to my study after you’ve washed up for dinner,” Lucius said after the Malfoys arrived back at the Manor.
“Yes, Father.” Draco went to the bathroom to wash his hands. He paced back and forth a few times. Better not keep him waiting. Draco inhaled deeply, then let all the air out of his lungs before entering his father’s study.
Lucius shuffled some parchment on his desk. Draco stood a few feet away with his hands clasped behind his back. He had to remind himself to breathe normally.
“I see you met Harry Potter.” Lucius studied his son.
Draco’s jaw dropped. “THE Harry Potter? Where? When?”
“He’s not a celebrity, Draco,” Lucius scoffed. “Observation is a skill. Had you not been so eager to boast about your surname, you might have noticed the scar on his forehead.”
That explained the dead parents. Draco looked down in shame.
“I want you to keep a close eye on Mr. Potter while at school. Make him think you’re his friend and send me an owl if anything seems peculiar.”
Draco nodded, though he wasn’t sure what his father meant by “peculiar.” He didn’t dare ask and ruin the opportunity of being trusted with a mission. He waited, hands still behind his back.
“You may go.” Lucius went back to his parchment.
Later that night, Draco sat on his floor, trying to finish Advanced Magical Theory before he fell asleep, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the mission. Make him think you’re his friend.
Draco didn’t have many friends, except Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Really, they were the kids of his mother’s friends. He saw them when his mother organized “play dates” but really it was just an excuse for the women to drink wine and whine about how their husbands were never home.
Draco suddenly had an idea and snapped his book closed. “DOBBY!” he screamed.
Dobby appeared out of the air next to him. “Yes, Master Draco.”
“What are you doing?” Draco started to ask. “You know what, I don’t care. Bring me some chamomile and cookies.”
“Yes, Master Draco.” Dobby disappeared with a snap of his fingers, returning exactly six seconds later.
A teapot floated in the air, pouring the chamomile into a mug. Two sugar cubes were plopped into the cup, just the way Draco liked. Dobby swirled one finger, directing the spoon as it stirred without being touched. He set the tray down in front of Draco. “Anything else, Master Draco?”
“No,” Draco said as he picked up a warm chocolate chip cookie. He ate it slowly, not looking at Dobby. He took his time blowing on the tea before taking a long slurp. “You didn’t tell on me at breakfast.”
Dobby said nothing and stared at the ground. Draco picked up another cookie and held it out to Dobby. “Here.”
Dobby threw both hands up and practically jumped back. “No, Master Draco, Dobby can’t.”
“Why not?” Anger shot through Draco.
Dobby covered his mouth with his hands and shook his head.
“Come on, Dobby, you can tell me. We’re friends.”
“Dobby chipped one of the chandelier crystals when Professor Quirrell showed up. Professor Quirrell kicked Dobby when Dobby wouldn’t tell him where Master Malfoy was. Mistress Malfoy said Dobby couldn’t eat for a week if Dobby broke one. Dobby repaired the crystal, but this is Dobby’s punishment,” the elf spoke frantically as his eyes darted to the door.
Draco looked up and down at Dobby’s already frail body. His burlap sack barely hung on his collarbones that jutted out in points from his dry skin. “Dobby, am I not also your master?”
“Yes, Master Draco, but Mistress Malfoy is the mistress of this house. Dobby must serve her.”
Draco lunged at Dobby, toppling him to the ground. He sat on Dobby, pinning his elbows to the floor with his knees. “Eat the cookie, Dobby. That is an order.”
Dobby quickly shook his head back and forth. Still sitting on top of Dobby, Draco licked his own finger and jammed it into one of Dobby’s large ears. When Dobby wailed, Draco took the opportunity to shove the cookie into Dobby’s mouth before quickly covering his mouth. “Chew!” he screamed in Dobby’s face.
Dobby obeyed, chewing slowly as his legs kicked uselessly beneath Draco. Draco leaned closer to Dobby’s face, his nose nearly meeting the house-elf’s long pointy one and his hand still over his mouth. “Now…swallow,” he commanded.
Dobby started kicking harder and tried to buck Draco off of him. Why was he making this so difficult? Draco used his other hand to pinch Dobby’s nose, cutting off his last source of air. “I can’t let you starve, Dobby!” he screamed.
Dobby’s eyes started bulging from his head as he kept fighting. Tears ran down his face as he finally gulped. Satisfied, Draco released him and picked up another cookie. Dobby stood up, hacking and gulping for air, then flinched when he saw the cookie. “Relax, this one’s mine,” Draco snorted.
“Anything…else…Master…Draco?” Dobby said between heaving breaths.
Draco sat back down again, casually flipping through the pages of his book. “What do you know about Harry Potter, Dobby?”
Dobby’s voice was still ragged as he answered. “Harry Potter is the boy who lived, Master Draco. He is the only one who has ever survived the killing curse. He Who Must Not Be Named killed Harry Potter’s parents and–”
“Not all of that, Dobby. I can read. I know all these things. Surely you must know something else. Don’t all you house-elves talk? What have you heard?”
Dobby looked around, then whispered, “Harry Potter has been raised by his Muggle aunt and uncle who didn’t tell him that he is a wizard.”
Draco thought for a moment and then smiled. “Brilliant, Dobby. One more thing…”
Dobby jumped back again, trembling.
“You’ll write to me, won’t you? While I’m at Hogwarts. Let me know if anything…peculiar happens around here?”
Dobby let out a cry. “Dobby is not to speak of what Dobby hears in the Manor, Master Draco.”
“You wouldn’t be speaking, you dimwit. You’d be writing to me. I’ll send you an owl and you can write back.”
Dobby thought for a moment and then sighed. “Yes, Master Draco.” Draco nodded. With a snap of Dobby’s fingers, the house-elf was gone.
