Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

“Or … I wouldn’t bank on an invitation,” said Zabini nonchalantly, not sparing Malfoy’s pride. “Look at the people he invited. They all have family connections with the Ministry or are neutral. When I first got there, he asked me about Nott’s father. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he’d been caught at the Ministry he didn’t look happy, and Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? So, save it. I don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters.”

Malfoy looked angry at Zabini’s words, but he forced out a singularly humorless laugh.

“Well, who cares what he’s interested in? What is he, when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher.” Malfoy yawned ostentatiously. “I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what’s it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?”

“What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?” said Pansy indignantly, ceasing grooming Malfoy at once. “Where are you going? Leaving us?”

“Yeah, you’ll never know or imagine where I’m going,” said Malfoy with the ghost of a smirk, “No harm in telling you — by then I might have — er — moved on to bigger and better things.”

“Just like what Mason did in Egypt this summer…” said Goyle subconsciously.

“They say he defeated a demon.”

“More important than that, fool, and stop talking about that Mudblood,” Malfoy snapped. “Do you think serving the Dark Lord is less important than the adventures of a Mudblood?”

The effect of his words was immediate, and the compartment became quiet.

Pansy stared at Malfoy dumbfounded, while Crabbe and Goyle were gawping at him.

Obviously, they were intimidated by Voldemort’s name. Even Zabini had allowed a look of curiosity to mar his haughty features.

Crouched in the luggage rack under his cloak, Harry’s heart began to race.

Serving Voldemort?

So, Malfoy was planning something after all. He had to make sure Evan, Hermione, and Ron heard every word of this.

After a brief silence, Zabini asked tentatively, “Do you mean — Him?”

“Of course, what else did you think?” Malfoy shrugged. “Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don’t see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it. … When the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone’s got? Of course he isn’t. … It’ll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown.”

“I know that everyone wants to show devotion to the Dark Lord. I heard that many foreign Dark wizards have come to this country, but what can you do for him?” Zabini asked scathingly. “Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?”

“I’ve just said, haven’t I? Maybe he doesn’t care if I’m qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn’t something that you need to be qualified for,” said Malfoy quietly. “Just wait and see.”

Zabini was silent, and Crabbe and Goyle were both sitting with their mouths open like gargoyles.

Pansy was gazing down at Malfoy as though she had never seen anything so awe-inspiring.

Harry held his breath, hoping Malfoy would continue, about what he was going to do for Voldemort.

But Malfoy knew when to stop, clearly relishing the effect he had created as he pointed out of the blackened window. “Ah, I can see Hogwarts. We’d better get our robes on.”

Harry blinked and drew back hastily.

Goyle reached up for his trunk, moving with far too much force.

As he swung his trunk down, it hit Harry hard on the side of the head. He let out an involuntary gasp of pain, and Malfoy looked up at the luggage rack, frowning.

Eyes still watering and head still throbbing, Harry drew his wand, careful not to disarrange the cloak, and waited, breath held. He was not afraid of Malfoy, but he still did not much like the idea of being discovered hiding under his Invisibility Cloak by a group of unfriendly Slytherins.

To Harry’s relief, Malfoy stared at the luggage rack for a moment, but then seemed to decide that he had imagined the noise; he pulled on his robes like the others, locked his trunk, and as the train slowed to a jerky crawl, fastened a thick new traveling cloak round his neck.

A few seconds later, Harry could see the corridors filling up again.

He could even hear Hermione’s voice, leading the first-years to gather and walk out of the compartment.

Harry hoped that Ron would take his things out onto the platform for him; he was stuck where he was until the compartment had quite emptied.

He hoped it wouldn’t take too long and that he wouldn’t miss the carriages…

At last, with a final lurch, the train came to a complete halt.

Goyle threw the door open and muscled his way out into a crowd of second years, punching them aside; Crabbe and Zabini followed.

“You go on,” Malfoy told Pansy, who was waiting for him with her hand held out as though hoping he would hold it. “I just want to check something.”

She looked at Malfoy in confusion, then turned and left the compartment.

Now Harry and Malfoy were alone in the compartment, and Harry clenched his wand tightly.

People were filing past, descending onto the dark platform.

Malfoy moved over to the compartment door and let down the blinds, so that people in the corridor beyond could not peer in. He then bent down over his trunk and opened it again.

Harry peered down over the edge of the luggage rack, his heart pumping a little faster.

This was really suspicious. What had Malfoy wanted to hide from the others?

So, was he about to see the mysterious object that was broken and needed Borgin to repair?

The next second, a light came towards him.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Without warning, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry, who was instantly paralyzed.

As though in slow motion, he toppled out of the luggage rack and fell,with an agonizing, floor-shaking crash, at Malfoy’s feet, the Invisibility Cloak trapped beneath him, his whole body revealed with his legs still curled absurdly into the cramped kneeling position.

He couldn’t move a muscle; he could only gaze up at Malfoy, who smiled broadly…

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