asked with great curiosity.
'Not overnight,' said Eleftheria, waving her fork airily.
Zabini turned to Harry, 'Is Severus Snape still head of Slytherin House?' he asked.
'Yeah,' said Harry.
Lucius Malfoy suddenly turned and spit on the floor. 'Draco,' he said between his teeth, 'is quite friendly with Severus. Despite the fact that Severus betrayed us all.
I have told him it is unseemly, but he does not listen.'
Harry looked at his plate.
'Severus will get what is coming to him, Lucius,' said Rozier in a voice that made Harry's blood run cold. 'When we put the Plan into action.'
Harry never thought he'd feel bad while considering the prospect of something awful happening to Snape, but he did.
'Father,' he said, before he could stop himself, 'I'm not feeling well. Can I be excused to my room?'
This was the wrong thing to say. Lucius turned a cold, glittering gaze on Harry, full of icy rage. When he spoke, however, his voice was even: 'Certainly, Draco,' he said.
Harry pushed his chair back and began to make his way from the hall. As he passed Lucius, however, Draco's father shot out a hand and grabbed his arm. His grip was cold. 'You will come and see me in the drawing- room after dinner, Draco,' he said quietly. 'You will not be late.'
'Yes,' said Harry, mechanically, and, freeing his arm, he sped out of the hall.
Once away, he collapsed against a wall in the corridor, holding his head. Lucius Malfoy's voice saying the words drawing-room had sparked his memory, and he suddenly recalled the day four years ago when he heard Draco Malfoy telling Crabbe and Goyle that his family kept their most powerful Dark Arts objects under the drawing-room floor. At the time, Harry had thought he meant there was some kind of secret compartment under the floor. Now it occurred to him that in fact, what Draco might have meant — and he could not be sure why he felt this, but he did — was that the entrance to the chambers underneath Malfoy Manor was in the drawing-room. Perhaps the dungeon entrance might be there as well.
It was a slim chance, he knew, but worth investigating.
'Anton,' he called softly. 'Anton.'
The ghost materialized before him, carrying a tea-towel and looking inquiring.
'Anton,' said Harry in a whisper. 'How do I get to the drawing-room? I've forgotten.'
As Harry had expected, the ghost showed no surprise. 'Follow me, Master Malfoy,' he said, and began wafting down the corridor. He led Harry to a large room filled with overstuffed velvet chairs. The portrait of a tall woman wearing an enormous choker of rubies hung over the fireplace and a wide Persian rug covered the floor.
'Thank you, Anton,' said Harry absently, and the ghost vanished.
Harry dropped to the floor and dragged the Persian carpet aside. Underneath it was the clear outline of a trap door with a looped iron handle. Harry grabbed the handle hard, and pulled.
The door lifted easily. Harry had a brief glimpse of a set of gray stone steps disappearing into darkness before his head was nearly split open by the most ear-piercing scream he had ever heard.
'MASTER LUCIUS! MASTER LUCIUS!' It was the woman in the portrait, her mouth open as she howled.' THE TRAP DOOR IS OPEN! MASTER LUCIUS! THE DRAWING-ROOM!' Harry let the trap door fall as he staggered back, hands over his ears, but even with the door closed the woman continued to scream. 'MASTER LUCIUS, COME QUICKLY!'
On the train, Draco opened his eyes with a start. 'Oh, no,' he said. 'Harry, you stupid prat, what have you done?'
On the train, Draco opened his eyes with a start. 'Oh, no,' he said. 'Harry, you stupid prat, what have you done?'
Over the portrait's screams Harry could hear the sound of running feet in the corridor outside. He looked around wildly. There was only the one exit from the room and it led straight into the hallway. If only he knew how to Disapparate!
The fireplace, said a voice in his ear. Harry spun around madly; there was no one there. He didn't care, though. Dashing towards the fireplace he flung himself into it just as the drawing-room doors opened. There was a ledge at about chest height inside the flue; he climbed up onto it and braced himself there, panting.
Through a crack in the bricks, Harry saw Lucius Malfoy enter the room, followed by the Death Eaters and Narcissa. He looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him, angrier than Harry would have thought possible. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the disarrayed rug and the exposed trap door. Then his gaze fell on the portrait.
'Mona,' he said. 'Who did this? Who committed this outrage?'
Harry braced himself.
'A boy,' said the woman in the portrait. 'A boy unknown to me.'
'Not — Draco?' said Narcissa. Her expression was as set and angry as her husband's, but her eyes were darting wildly around the room, giving her a weird, almost schizophrenic look. Harry stared.
'The intruder had no Malfoy blood in him,' said the portrait.
'Did he enter the dungeons?' asked Lucius.
'No,' said the portrait, 'He fled when I screamed.'
