Chapter 161
Pansy could not understand how anyone could smile with satisfaction after being beheaded, as if it were some great honor.
"When I grow too old to move," Kreacher said eagerly, "I hope Master Malfoy will cut off my head and mount it here with my ancestors. I would be eternally grateful, my noble master."
His fingers were clasped tightly before his chest, his bulging eyes full of longing.
"Go and work, Kreacher," Draco said, dismissing him. He had no intention of correcting the elf's distorted beliefs. Except for rare cases like Dobby, most house-elves were deeply conditioned to servitude.
"Yes, my respected master!" Kreacher bowed again and hurried off to clean the long-abandoned rooms.
---
"I should lead the way from here," Draco said. Pansy had already been startled too many times.
She immediately moved behind him and grabbed the corner of his sleeve.
Just then, a cold draft swept down the corridor, lifting a tattered white curtain riddled with moth holes.
Behind it hung the portrait of an old woman.
For a brief moment, Pansy thought the woman looked gentle.
Then the portrait woke.
"Was it that ungrateful son who brought you in here?!" the woman shrieked, her voice sharp and vicious. "Where is he? Filthy intruders! How dare you enter the ancestral home of the noble House of Black! How dare you—"
Her scream echoed down the hall.
Draco flicked his wand. The curtain snapped shut, and a temporary Silencing Charm cut off the noise.
"Why not just take the painting down?" Pansy whispered nervously.
"She's put a Permanent Sticking Charm on it," Draco replied calmly, already moving forward.
Pansy hesitated, then followed quickly.
"How do you know all this? It's your first time here, isn't it?"
"My uncle mentioned it," Draco said without turning back.
Pansy wanted to ask more, but she realized she'd fallen behind and hurried after him.
"Slow down!"
---
At the end of the corridor was a loose, dirty door. Draco pushed it open.
A wave of foul air rushed out—rotting wood mixed with spoiled meat. Pansy immediately covered her nose and mouth.
"Lumos."
Soft light filled the room.
It looked like a dark, primitive kitchen. Smoke hung thick in the air from a large fireplace at the far end. Heavy iron pots dangled from the ceiling, casting distorted shadows. A greasy table stood in the middle, its corners reinforced with rusted metal. Two long-spouted kettles sat on a cabinet, both corroded.
"Can anything cooked here even be eaten?" Pansy muttered.
Draco ignored the mess and began searching quickly. Cabinets opened and shut. Inside were only broken bowls, dead cockroaches, and dust.
After a moment, he straightened.
"The locket should be upstairs."
"Let's go," he added. "Unless you'd like to stay and prepare lunch here."
The joke did nothing to comfort her.
---
They retraced their steps carefully. Pansy moved quietly this time, afraid of making noise near the portrait.
After passing the wall of house-elf heads, they climbed the dark staircase to the second floor.
Two black iron doors stood there. One was locked. The other was slightly open.
Draco pushed it wider.
Sunlight flooded the room.
It was a spacious drawing room, with a large window opposite the door. Bright midday light reflected off the marble floor.
Pansy hurried to the window and threw it open. Fresh air rushed in, clearing away the stale, moldy smell.