Draco Veritas

Chapter Thirteen: The Malfoy Family Code of Conduct (Part One)

Part One: Home Country

"I would be happy enough, living in my home country, if Pelias would give his consent. May the gods see fit to free me from my labors," said Jason. And his voice is at once that of the ever-hypocritical lover trying to soften the cruelty of his desertion, and that of the hero who looks, weary and detached, over the scene where he is obliged to kill, cheat, travel, desert, and, finally, to be killed.

-Roberto Calasso.

***

"Master," said the house elf-nervously, "there is someone in the library."

Thaddeus Nott folded down the left side of the paper he was reading (The Daily Prophet, business section, Wizarding Market Update: Wands Waver As Broomsticks Soar) and glared at the elf over his spectacles. "Nonsense," he said. "There can't possibly be anyone in the library."

"Yes, sir. Binky is understanding that, sir. Except that, sir..."

"Yes?"

"There is someone in the library, sir."

Nott threw the paper down with a bark of exasperation. "Is it one of the children?"

"No, sir."

"Well, who the bloody hell else can it be? I haven't asked any guests here, Martha's off at the spa in Theamelpos, and the only uninvited person who can get through the wards is the Dark Lord..." He paused, and paled markedly. "It's not the Dark Lord, is it?"

"No, sir, it is not someone Binky is knowing, sir."

"Oh, bloody hell, I'll go see who it is," Nott snapped, propelling himself to his feet. He winced a little—his back hurt these days, more than it once had. Not enough exercise, that was the problem. Too much time spent slaving away in dark little rooms, plotting with Francis and the rest of them. "Get out of my way, you infernal bat-eared moron," he snarled, aiming a solid kick at Binky that sent the little creature sailing across the room into the bookcase.

At least he still had his excellent aim, Nott thought with some satisfaction, setting off down the hall towards the library. In his day, he'd been one of the best Beaters Slytherin had ever seen. Tom Riddle himself had once congratulated him on a game. He'd never forgotten it.

If Malfoy Manor was both the oldest and possibly the grandest wizarding house in England, Notwick Estate was the wickedest. Its dungeons were the darkest, its gardens the most foreboding, and its corridors the most reliably unlit. The children were forever barking their shins on the legs of chairs but Nott refused to invest in more expensive torches or more powerful Illuminating Charms. His grandfather had liked it dark, and so did he.

He navigated the staircase to the third floor largely by memory, one hand guiding him along the rough stone wall. The library door was open slightly when he reached it, and pale light spilled out through the crack, throwing a narrow golden bar along the floor.

He stopped dead in the corridor and frowned. It wasn't that he hadn't believed Binky, but – well, perhaps he hadn't quite believed the daft little creature could possibly be correct. No one could get through the wards surrounding Notwick. No one. This had to be one of his children, playing a prank. He strode to the library door, threw it open –

The angry exclamation died on his lips. He stared around him in bewilderment. The library was full of light, a deep gold color like summer twilight, and like summer twilight it was tinged with a dark red. It poured from the walls, ceiling and windows and suffused the fire in the grate with layers of deeper color, as if thin sheets of hammered gold had been laid over the flames.