Be Careful
38: What Help You Find
By Anne B. Walsh
Draco turned off the fire under his cauldron and sniffed the steam warily. Too much and he'd start to feel the potion's effects himself.
All right, it's done. Now to find a way to sneak it to them.
He started to pace up and down the room, thinking. Spiking all the drinks of the other Slytherin seventh years himself was theoretically possible, but would be hard to get away with. One person's goblet could be casually passed over with a hand—more than two or three started to get suspicious.
I could put it in the pitcher, I suppose. But there's no guarantee they'll all drink from the one I dose, or that any of them will, for that matter.
I wish there were a way to dose the whole of Slytherin House at once… get it into everything we drink tonight, all at the same time…
Draco stopped in midstride. "That's it!"
Within thirty seconds, he had decanted the potion, cleaned up, and was on his way out of the dungeons, bound for a certain ground floor corridor.
What was it Lucius always used to tell me? "Never do anything for yourself that you can make the house-elf do for you…"
Which brings up its own particular problem.
The house-elf in question is here. And likely still bearing a grudge.
"The question is," Draco muttered aloud as he approached the painting of the bowl of fruit, "can I get him to believe I'm on the same side he is now? He hero-worships Potter, if I can work through that…" He snorted. "Who'm I kidding? He's more likely to throw me down the stairs like he did Lucius, and if I'm being honest I probably deserve it…"
A noise as of a door opening and voices beyond alerted him to a pair of Hufflepuffs emerging from their dormitory farther up the hall. Quickly, he tickled the pear and pulled open the painting, darting inside the kitchens before the Hufflepuffs could see anything other than the back of his robes and bag.
Note to self: Talking aloud when there's no one else around is a bad thing.
As he shut the portrait door, the hair on the back of Draco's neck stood up. Someone was looking at him.
More likely a whole lot of someones. Small, wrinkly, funny-colored someones.
But no, they've got work to do. They wouldn't stop it just because a student came in, not for this long.
Which means the most likely culprit here is…
He turned around.
The creature standing behind him, arms crossed over its maroon-covered chest and huge green eyes narrowed in suspicion, had once been as familiar a sight to Draco as his own parents, though then the house-elf had worn only a ripped pillowcase and cringed at the sight of any of the Malfoys. In the face of this blatant hostility, Draco felt like doing a bit of cringing himself, but opted for a low-key approach.
"Afternoon, Dobby," he said, sitting down on the floor cross-legged as he'd seen Ray do in the nursery at the other Hogwarts, to bring himself more on a level with the people who inhabited it.
Dobby glared at him. "Draco Malfoy does not belong in Hogwarts kitchens," he said in a tone of surprising menace for such a squeaky voice.
"Why not?" Draco heard himself say, and winced inwardly. I believe this is known as digging one's own grave…
"Draco Malfoy is not to order any of these nice elves to do mean things to Gryffindors," Dobby hissed, coming a few steps closer. "Or to Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who are following the Gryffindors. Dobby will stop him if he tries, because Dobby is a free elf and not bound to do as Hogwarts students say. And no elf is giving away any of the secrets the Gryffindors are asking them to keep." He lifted his long nose into the air. "So Draco Malfoy can be taking himself back out that door and not be coming here again."
Got a big attitude for a little elf, don't you?
Draco managed to keep from saying this aloud by envisioning Lucius tumbling down the stairs. He may have a big attitude, but he's got the power to back it up. And wizard's magic can't always counter house-elf. Careful what you say, Draco…
"I notice there's a House you didn't name," he said after a few seconds’ consideration. "You willing to help me do something to them?"
Dobby blinked once or twice. This was more impressive on a house-elf than on a human. "Draco Malfoy is wanting to… to trick other Slytherins?" he said finally.
"That's right."
The suspicion was back in Dobby's face full force. "And why is Draco Malfoy wanting to—"
"Would you stop it with my name already?" Draco snapped. "I know who I am, so do you, and reminding me isn't going to change anything!"
The house-elf snorted once. "Dobby sees Draco Malfoy has not changed at all," he said, folding his arms again. "Always getting angry at little things and thinking he is boss of all the world."
Draco closed his eyes and recited the first two stanzas of the pirates’ opening song to himself. Yelling at him won't solve anything; it's what he expects. If I want his help, I have to prove to him I'm not who I used to be.
"Maybe you're right," he said when he could open his eyes again. Dobby was watching him sidelong now. "Maybe I haven't changed since you knew me. But I'm trying to change. I…" Just say it, Draco, get it over with. "I'm sorry. For the way I used to treat you. I was a kid, I'd never been taught any better, but neither of those is really an excuse for the stuff I used to think was funny to see you doing." A few particularly painful memories surfaced, and it took no acting skills at all to produce a wince. "I've stopped thinking it's funny to see other people hurting since I found out what it feels like from the other side."
Dobby took a step back in shock, tripped over the hanging end of his long hand-knitted scarf, and fell flat on his behind. Draco looked away, trying to avoid the temptation to laugh, and discovered that every other house-elf in the kitchens was staring at him bug-eyed. This, too, was decidedly more intimidating than a similar array of human beings would have been.
Wonder what Dobby's been telling them.
Probably no more than the truth. That'd be bad enough.
The house-elves towards the left of the kitchen parted to allow one of their number through. He wore a locket on a chain around his neck, and the towel tied around his waist was plain white rather than bearing the Hogwarts shield as the other elves’ did. Draco recognized him at once; he looked rather more like his counterpart from the other world than he had the last time they'd met in the flesh.
I'd wondered what had happened to him when Potter and the others had to run for it…
"Hello, Kreacher," he said, glancing back at Dobby, who didn't seem to be making much progress getting up. "Think you could give us a hand over here? Dobby may need some help."
"You are not Kreacher's master now," Kreacher stated firmly.
"Which is why it was a request, not an order." Draco thought back over what he'd seen of the summer months at Grimmauld Place. "That's how Potter does things, isn't it? And Weasley, and Granger? They ask you to do things, not just order you around?"
Kreacher gave a slow, reluctant nod.
"They're all right, by the way," Draco added. "They got away safely."
"Kreacher wishes he could believe that," the old house-elf croaked. "But Kreacher has watched Draco Malfoy and knows his ways. Kreacher knows Draco Malfoy is no friend to Harry Potter."
Draco spread his hands. "Maybe I won't be on his Christmas card list this year, but I'm trying to do something that will help him, even if he doesn't know about it. Did he ever mention Ginny Weasley to you? Ron Weasley's sister?"
Again, Kreacher nodded, doubt beginning to creep into his eyes.
"I has seen them together sometimes," Dobby volunteered unexpectedly, getting back to his feet unaided. "They looks…" He sighed. "Harry Potter is not happy much this last year. With the Wheezy's sister, he was being happy."
Draco thought he ought to have got a medal for not reacting outwardly to this name for the tallest portion of Potter's trio. "How about Luna Lovegood, or Neville Longbottom?" he said instead. "He ever talk about them?"
"With worry," said Kreacher, starting across the floor towards Draco and Dobby, his eyes fixed disconcertingly on Draco. "With hope that they is safe here at Hogwarts."
"Yeah, well, if you've noticed what's going on upstairs, you know they're not particularly safe." Draco upended his schoolbag and slid the stoppered flask of potion towards the two house-elves, who were now standing side by side, watching him. "Which is why I'd be very much obliged if you could put a little of that in all the drinks that go up to the Slytherin table tonight. Not an order. A favor. For me, for them, and for Potter. Because I don't think he'd care to come back to Hogwarts and find his girlfriend's been eaten by giant spiders."
Dobby picked up the flask, pulled out the stopper between two long fingers, and sniffed cautiously at the contents. His eyes went wider than usual, and he handed the flask to Kreacher. Kreacher took a sniff of his own and began to laugh in a voice like a rusty gate hinge. "You wants my master's friends to… hear the Slytherins coming?" he asked Draco between bouts of laughter.
"That was the general idea."
Kreacher slid the stopper back into the flask decisively. "Kreacher will do this. For his master. Not for you," he added to Draco.
Draco shrugged. "Fine by me."
Carrying the flask carefully in both hands, Kreacher returned to the other side of the kitchen, leaving Draco alone with Dobby, who was still looking piercingly at him. "Dobby was here already before the door opened," the house-elf volunteered after a moment. "He heard you speaking. Speaking about what Dobby once did to Lucius Malfoy." His lip curled back as he pronounced the name. "Dobby would do it again if he got the chance—"
"I'd love to see you do it." Draco contemplated the thought of his so-called father soaring down a flight of stairs and found it good. "Maybe we can arrange that sometime."
Dobby stopped short and treated Draco to an incredulous stare, house-elf style. "I takes back what I is saying before," he said after a few moments. "You is not the same little master Dobby used to know. Not even the same boy Dobby followed last year for Harry Potter."
"Oh, is that how he finally caught me out. I'd wondered." Draco leaned back against the door. "You're right, Dobby, I'm not the same as I was. There are days I wake up and wonder just exactly who I am. I'm sort of working it out as I go. But I know now what I'm not, what I never want to be, and that's a place to start, at least." He looked down into round green eyes. "Can we call it quits on the past? It was wrong, I'm ashamed of myself for it, but there's no way to change it now."
Dobby rocked back and forth on his feet. "You is really trying to help Harry Potter's friends?" he asked, twisting his scarf between his hands. "Dobby has wanted to help them, but Dobby worries that the new Headmaster does not approve of helping them…"
"I thought you were a free elf," Draco said, raising an eyebrow. "Not bound to do what anyone said."
"Not students," Dobby corrected. "Dobby has a contract with…." He trailed off, and Draco saw a light dawning in his eyes. "Dobby had a contract. With Professor Dumbledore. But Dobby is not sure if his contract is still valid with the new Headmaster…"
"Which would make you a free agent," said Draco idly. "And of course Kreacher belongs to Potter now, he's not bound to the school at all, he's just here to hide out. Wouldn't it be interesting if you two trailed Potter's friends and just, oh, misdirected a few of the unfriendly spells that went their way? Right onto any Slytherins who happened to be nearby?"
Dobby grinned.
Draco had never noticed quite how pointed house-elf teeth were before.