"Aren't you going to do something about him?"
Hermione asked Luna, watching the chaos unfold from the carefully avoided Hufflepuff table.
"Why would I?"
Luna looked genuinely confused. "They're having so much fun."
"But they're bothering everyone else."
Hermione frowned. "Tom's a second-year, but he's still your pet. Your word should carry some weight, right? If Tom settles down, that mouse will probably quiet down too."
"But—"
Luna blinked. "I've never thought of Tom as a pet. He's my friend.
And as for bothering other people… Tom can get pretty loud sometimes, but he always cleans up after himself."
Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again. She had to admit Luna was right. Tom's sudden inspirations often created messes, but he always fixed them afterward.
The problem was that Tom wasn't the only one involved. There was also that mouse. Hermione barely knew Jerry, so she had no idea what the little rodent's personality was like.
Realizing she wasn't getting anywhere with Luna, Hermione turned her attention to Ginny, who was sitting nearby.
Ginny hadn't marched straight over to the Hufflepuff table the way Luna had. But after seeing her pet, her brother Ron, and her idol Harry all gathered there, she hesitated only a moment before abandoning her roommates and joining them.
(Ginny swore it was only because of her brother and her pet. Harry had absolutely nothing to do with it. Nothing!)
Right now, though, Ginny was deeply regretting the decision.
Harry was sandwiched between Ron and Draco, leaving her zero chance of getting near her idol. Her own pet had taken one look at her and immediately run off with the cat. And her friend Luna was staring at Tom with complete fascination. The whole situation left Ginny feeling awkward.
On top of that, she now had to deal with Hermione's expectant stare. Already shy around Harry, Ginny found herself completely tongue-tied.
But thinking about Hermione's relationship with Harry—and the way everyone in Gryffindor already called her "little McGonagall"—Ginny finally forced the words out in a small, flustered voice.
"I… I can't stop them."
It was true. She got along fine with Jerry, but the mouse was highly intelligent and had a mind of his own. He was not the sort of pet she could simply order around.
Besides, the Great Hall was so noisy right now that even if she could stop him, Jerry probably wouldn't hear her.
As for physically intervening? One look at the snake currently embedded in the wall was enough to kill that idea.
Nagini had seen her master being "bullied" by Tom and, acting on pure instinct, tried to intercept the cat. Unfortunately she possessed neither protagonist luck nor overpowered abilities. In this particular cat-and-mouse game she was nothing more than a roadside obstacle. One attempt to block Tom later and she had been launched across the hall and embedded in the wall like a living decoration.
Ginny had no desire to become the next wall ornament. She was not about to bet on whether those two maniacs would show her any mercy.
After hearing Ginny's answer, Hermione fell silent again.
She glanced at Nagini's starry-eyed face sticking out of the wall, then at the complete chaos filling the Great Hall—chaos that somehow still managed to produce zero actual casualties—and finally let out a long sigh. She gave up on trying to stop them.
If even their owners couldn't control them, she certainly wasn't going to volunteer as the next wall hanging.
And since they weren't actually fighting…
"I'll just pretend I didn't see anything."
With that decision made, Hermione pulled out a thick book and started reading.
"A History of Ancient Magic? Why are you reading that?"
Ariana floated over, curious.
As a ghost she was by far the most relaxed person present. No matter how much chaos Tom and Jerry created, it never affected her. She had simply been watching the show like a happy spectator.
Now she eyed the book in Hermione's hands with mild confusion. "Weren't you looking up Percival? Why Ancient Magic?"
"You wouldn't understand."
Hermione kept flipping pages as she explained. "Last year when we were hunting for information on Nicolas, I went through every modern magical history book I could find. I finally located his name in a volume of ancient history instead.
So this year I'm doing it the opposite way—starting from the ancient stuff and working forward."
That wasn't the whole truth. Hermione was certain she had seen the name Percival somewhere last year, even if she couldn't remember the exact book. She had practically memorized every modern history volume. Ancient history, on the other hand, she had only skimmed a handful of titles.
If the name really was buried in ancient magic history, her workload would drop dramatically.
"…Well, good luck with that."
Ariana fell quiet. Hermione was brilliant, no question—but her luck was another story.
If she had simply started with modern history she probably would have found Percival in no time. Starting with ancient history instead…
Hermione was going to be busy for a while.
"Actually, I think I've seen that name somewhere before."
Draco, who had been trying to get a word in with Tom and failing, suddenly spoke up. "I'm pretty sure I read it in one of the books at home. Or maybe my father mentioned it. Either way, I know I've heard the name Percival before.
If you guys can't find anything, I can dig through our library over the holidays. I might turn up something useful."
"Won't your father ask questions?"
"Of course he will!"
Draco answered with complete confidence. The Malfoy library contained more than a few banned titles, and Draco himself had never been the studious type. "Which is exactly why I can't look openly. I'll have to do it in secret."
"What kind of normal person sneaks around reading books in their own house?!"
Ron couldn't help muttering. Draco wanted to argue, but he had nothing. Ron was right. Normal people did not sneak around reading their own family books.
"I can't exactly walk up to Father and tell him I'm investigating a professor's identity. He'd immediately demand to know why.
If Professor Percival turns out to be harmless, fine. But if there's something shady about him, the last thing I want is Father storming into Hogwarts to demand answers."
The mental image of Lucius Malfoy arriving at Hogwarts only to discover his son hanging out with Weasleys, Muggle-borns, and a talking cat was enough to make Draco shudder.
After spending so much time with Harry's group, the idea of going back to hanging out with brainless thugs like Goyle was unbearable.
"That's… fair. Your father is—"
Harry and the others immediately understood. They still remembered the confrontation between Arthur and Lucius in Diagon Alley, and the look of pure misery and innocence on Draco's face at the time.
"Wait!"
Harry suddenly sat up straighter and looked at Draco. "Draco, do you know about house-elves?"
"House-elves?"
Draco blinked, then nodded. "Of course. They're magical creatures that were domesticated and enslaved by wizards specifically to serve them. Why?"
"Over the summer I never got any of your letters. A house-elf was intercepting everything you guys sent me.
He also went around using magic at my uncle's house and nearly ruined one of his big business deals."
Harry didn't exactly love the Dursleys, but he still had a complicated sort of attachment to them. They had raised him, after all. They had been stingy with everything, but they had still made sure he received a basic education.
More importantly, the only person allowed to prank the Dursleys was him. If anyone was going to mess with them, it had to be on his terms.
So the house-elf's actions still rankled.
Even if that same house-elf had accidentally helped him by making sure the Dursleys knew he wasn't allowed to use magic outside school.
Honestly, the look on Vernon's face when he brandished the Ministry warning letter and declared Harry's good times were over—only for Harry to calmly pull out the spare wand Tom had given him, set the letter on fire in front of them, and announce he could ignore Ministry restrictions whenever he wanted—had been one of the most satisfying moments of Harry's life.
That still didn't change the fact that the house-elf had caused trouble and stolen his mail. If Harry ever got the chance, he was going to make the little pest pay.
"You never got any of my letters?"
Draco looked genuinely startled, as if he had only just realized Harry had been completely cut off for the entire holiday.
Seeing the confusion in Harry's eyes, he quickly explained, "I did write to you. But every letter said not to write back, because of my father—
It's a shame, really. Just in case Father found out, I addressed everything to Harry and asked him to pass the messages along. I never imagined you weren't receiving them."
Harry and the others nodded in understanding. Seeing that they got it, Draco thumped his chest and declared, "No problem. Just tell me the house-elf's name!
I don't know every house-elf in existence, but if the one who messed with you belongs to a pure-blood family, I can find out who ordered him to do it."
The Sacred Twenty-Eight were all interconnected by blood in one way or another. Even the Weasleys, weird as they were, still carried the blood of the old families. As long as the house-elf belonged to one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, Draco would be able to identify the master.
"Really?"
Harry's eyes lit up. "He said his name was Dobby!"
"???"
Draco's smile froze solid. "Wait. What did you say his name was?"
"Dobby!"
Harry looked at Draco with growing confusion. That expression clearly meant Draco knew exactly who the house-elf was. But it was a far cry from the confident guarantee he had just given.
For a second Harry could have sworn he saw pure panic flash across Draco's face.
"Oh. Right. Dobby. Yeah. Got it."
Draco had no idea what to say. Of course he knew Dobby. Dobby was their house-elf! But why? Why would their own house-elf go after Harry?
And he absolutely could not say the name out loud right now. Masters and house-elves shared a certain magical bond. If he called Dobby's name, the elf would appear instantly and start calling him "Master"—
And that would be the end of his friendship with Harry.
Draco could not even begin to imagine that future.
"…If there's something you can't say, just forget I asked."
Harry, seeing how uncomfortable Draco looked, waved it off with surprising generosity. Everyone had secrets.
"No, it's not that I can't say it. It's just—"
Looking at Harry's open, understanding expression, Draco felt a sharp little pain in his chest. He desperately wanted to come clean, but the words simply would not form.
"What are you guys talking about?"
At that moment Tom finally finished "punishing" Jerry and, after the two of them had cleaned up the morning's mess together, wandered over out of pure curiosity.
"House-elves," Harry explained. "Some house-elf spent the entire holiday keeping me from contacting any of you. Draco's helping me figure out who the master behind him is."
"What's there to investigate?"
Tom looked at Draco in genuine confusion. "Dobby's your family's house-elf. Just tell Harry and be done with it."
"?!"
The second the words left Tom's mouth, Harry's gaze toward Draco shifted in a very subtle way.
It wasn't suspicion that Draco had orchestrated anything. After a full year of friendship Harry understood Draco's personality well enough. The boy was a tsundere, sure, but at heart he was decent. He would never order a house-elf to stop Harry from coming to Hogwarts.
But if Dobby really belonged to the Malfoys, then Harry needed an explanation—about the "plot" Dobby had mentioned.
He still remembered the elf's frantic words while trying to keep him away from Hogwarts:
There is a plot. Something terrible is going to happen at Hogwarts this year.
If Dobby had been telling the truth, then he had overheard that plot inside Malfoy Manor. And yet Draco had never mentioned a single word about it. Harry's sudden wariness was only natural.
"I— You— I swear I never tried to stop you from coming to school! There's nothing in it for me!"
Draco was practically vibrating with panic. He gritted his teeth, then made a desperate decision.
"Fine! I'll bring Dobby here right now so he can explain everything himself! Dobby! Get out here!"
The moment the name left his mouth, a small, ugly creature popped into existence in front of them—the exact same house-elf who had once appeared in Harry's cupboard under the stairs.