Narcissa Malfoy had always been a quiet woman, but Draco had noticed a marked difference in her behaviour since the Dark Lord’s visit. She seemed fearful when she looked at him, as though he might vanish at any moment. He also noticed the increased number of visits from his Aunt Bellatrix who, aside from her initial congratulations of his great opportunity, hardly spoke to him: she spent a lot of time with her sister, and Draco often came across them whispering furiously. They always stopped as soon as they saw him, and Draco guessed that they were arguing about him. “You can’t go to him, Cissy. The Dark Lord would never”" he had heard once, assuming that Narcissa still wished to enlist the help of his father “ for all the good it would do.
Although he knew he should appreciate his Aunt’s enthusiasm and support for his task, he couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. He did not really know Bellatrix well: not until she had escaped from Azkaban last year, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that the place had seriously unhinged her. But she was his Aunt after all, and she must have his best interests at heart, surely.
Early one morning, while Draco and his mother were at breakfast, Bellatrix strode in, announcing that she had just this minute left the Dark Lord, and had a message for her nephew. “The Dark Lord is worried that you may not kill Dumbledore. He says he doesn’t know if he can trust you.” She seemed to find this doubt in her nephew personally offensive, but Draco was sure that it had nothing to do with her affection for him, and was more to do with the fact that she felt she could have done this herself. “He requires that you find a way to let Death Eaters into the school to make sure the deed is done should you be unwilling to complete it. He also wants me to press upon you that he will not react kindly to news of your failure.”
Draco heard these words in silence, but his mother trembled visibly at the last few. What was she so worried about? Didn’t she believe he could do it? Supressing a tidal wave of anger, he thanked Bellatrix and left the room.
So he needed a way to get Death Eaters into the school. Surely that would be easier than attempting to kill Albus Dumbledore? Unfortunately, the school would be guarded by too many powerful enchantments to allow direct access into it, so there was no way they could enter straight from the outside. There must be secret passages into the school which he might be able to find, but how long would that take? Hogwarts was an enormous castle in which any cornice, statue or painting could give way to a hidden passage. He couldn’t ask around either, that might look suspicious. He dismissed the idea for the moment, deciding to come back to it if he could think of nothing else.
Had anyone ever mentioned discovering something while running from Filch, ever hidden something they shouldn’t have had? Come to think of it, he had heard rumours of people hiding things in a place which would never be found. Wasn’t there that one seventh year, Adrian Pucey, who had hidden the mangled body of a house elf after testing his failed attempt at making Polyjuice Potion? He was sure there had been something in that story about an unplottable room. That might be less suspicious to ask about, and could even come in handy later. The question still remained, however: how to get people into Hogwarts without Dumbledore noticing. If only there was a way to use Floo powder undetected, then the Death Eaters could come from Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. Diagon Alley… Draco sat bolt upright, the faintest memory stirring sleepily in the depths of his mind. Something someone had said last year, something about Hogwarts and Diagon Alley. But was it Diagon Alley? Draco cast his mind about, trying to remember the names of the streets nearby. There was Knifetwist Lane, which led off the main street; Spinelock Crescent, which curved around the back of Gringotts and led onto Knockturn Alley, which “ wait “ Knockturn Alley! That was it! He tried desperately to grab hold of the memory, but it was like trying to capture the golden snitch: every time he got close, it darted maddeningly out of reach.
A tapping at the window roused him, and he looked up to see his eagle owl, Icarus, perched on the window sill, a letter in his beak. Pulling himself up off the bed, he heaved up the heavy, wooden-framed window, and let the bird in. Unrolling the parchment, he found a neatly written letter from Pansy Parkinson. Another flare of annoyance rose in his chest: would she never get the message? He really was getting bored of her. He began to read.
Dear Draco,
I haven’t heard from you in a while, so I thought I’d write. I do hope you’re ok. How has your summer been? Mine has been dreadfully dull without everyone, I can’t imagine another three weeks of it. Why don’t we meet up over the holidays? I know you’ll cheer me up “ Mummy and Daddy don’t have the slightest idea how to amuse me. I ran into Montague the other day in Diagon Alley. He has to retake last year, because he missed so much from being ill after getting stuck in that Vanishing Cabinet, so he was moaning about that. The oaf even had the nerve to ask me to join him over a shot of Firewhiskey in the Leaky Cauldron! Imagine! I must say I was amused, but I’d never waste my time with that old troll. He did say he’d heard news about Professor Snape however, but he wouldn’t tell me. I don’t suppose you know?
Please write to me soon, I’m wasting away with lack of decent company.
Yours ever,
Pansy xx
Quashing the now familiar surge of annoyance at Pansy’s blatant show of her feelings towards him, Draco pondered the letter carefully. He had heard nothing about Snape, but this didn’t interest him. He had forgotten about Montague’s recent foray into that Vanishing Cabinet. It had been those Weasley twins who shut him in there, and to be honest, if he couldn’t manage to stop them, he deserved the punishment. Draco remembered hearing him talking about it when he got out, saying how he had been trapped in an eternal limbo between Hogwarts and Borgin and Burke’s. Draco’s heart leapt into his mouth, as he made the connection between this story and that foggy memory he had been trying to dredge up earlier, and for the first time in his life he was grateful for Pansy’s letter.
He stared excitedly out of the window, his mind working quickly. If Montague had been trapped between these two places, then surely there must be a way to form a passage between the two; a way to get from Borgin’s shop, into Hogwarts, and back again. It seemed that one of the Vanishing Cabinets was broken, as Montague had never been able to get out at either end until he apparated out, and he’d need to find a way to fix that. One thing was certain: he needed to go to Knockturn Alley to see the Cabinet himself. Maybe Mr Borgin would be able to tell him how to fix it. Pleased with his rapid work, he left the room to find his mother, wondering whether his mission might not be accomplished much sooner than he had expected.