Chapter 126: The Lost Malfoy

"Cheater's behavior! Filthy tactics! A pathetic performance—Hogwarts is nothing but a nest of outright frauds."

In the latest issue of The Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter raged that Hogwarts was falsifying everything, claiming to destroy the Chamber of Secrets, when in reality they had merely set off a few cheap fireworks inside the castle.

No one knew why she was so furious, rarely resorting to such public outbursts in the newspaper.

Interestingly, last night Fred and George had secretly stored the fireworks earlier in the afternoon, placing the largest dragon firework atop the southern tower to ensure a perfect finale.

That spot offered the best view of the entire castle, perfect for the final fireworks display.

But a beetle had the same idea—and it had crawled right onto the box hiding the dragon firework.

So when the thirty-foot-long dragon firework exploded above Hogwarts, the beetle was blasted upward along with it.

The next morning, someone claimed to have seen Rita Skeeter—and the usually immaculate woman looked disheveled.

First, her clothes were odd: at a glance they seemed fine, but up close, they were torn, covered in tiny, inconspicuous holes, and uneven in color.

It looked like the failed repair spell of a first-year who gave up halfway—though perhaps the garment was too damaged for any spell to fully mend it.

Rita Skeeter’s face was also blackened; her prized golden curls were hastily tied up, the ends smoldering with faint wisps of smoke, carrying a sharp, acrid stench of burning.

Yet this article caused little stir, buried in a corner of the third page of the newspaper.

The front page featured the Ministry of Magic’s Auror investigation results: Gilderoy Lockhart had been attacked in Hogsmeade, right after leaving the Hog’s Head.

“Maybe some thief wanted a quick fortune,” said a Hogsmeade villager. “After all, Professor Lockhart always reeked of Galleons—he should’ve gone to the Three Broomsticks.”

Since Lockhart was attacked outside Hogwarts, the Chamber of Secrets story naturally seemed less credible.

…

Meanwhile, Hogwarts had reopened; everyone returned after Christmas, except Draco Malfoy, who was back in the school infirmary.

When he was brought in, his face was nearly colorless, his body utterly weakened.

“I heard you wanted to see me?”

Silven looked at the nervous Malfoy on the bed. “Speak quickly, or your father will be here soon.”

Lucius Malfoy had come again—probably raging in the Headmaster’s office right now.

“You, you can’t… tell the Headmaster…” Malfoy whispered, staring at Silven.

“Which thing?” Silven chuckled. “Trying to have the Basilisk kill me? Or attacking Lockhart?”

“You did that too,” Silven said, picking up a box of Chocolate Frogs from the bedside table, opening it, and casually slipping the card inside into his pocket.

“After all, Lockhart pulled out your bones—you wanting revenge is perfectly normal… and Lockhart was attacked in Hogsmeade, while everyone else was at school. Only you could have done it.”

“I didn’t!” Malfoy suddenly grew agitated, shouting: “I was at St. Mungo’s! How could I possibly have gone to Hogsmeade?”

“Then explain the writing on him,” Silven narrowed his eyes. “Only Tom Riddle knew about the Chamber—and you had his diary.”

“But I really was at St. Mungo’s,” Malfoy said. “The healers there can testify—I couldn’t have slipped away to Hogsmeade without them knowing.”

“You couldn’t have gone to Hogsmeade.”

“Exactly,” Malfoy nodded.

“So,” Silven’s tone shifted, “you’re admitting you wanted the Basilisk to kill me?”

“I, I…” Malfoy’s confidence collapsed. He stared at Silven, stammering, unable to speak.

“You wanted to kill me—and you expect me to keep it secret?”

“No, I didn’t! I just wanted to teach Weasley a lesson,” Malfoy said. “He used the Slug-Vomiting Hex on me—I became a joke in Slytherin. No one showed it to my face, but I know what they whispered behind my back.”

“So I wanted to teach him a lesson. Make him pay.”

“Your idea of a lesson was having the Basilisk kill him?” Silven glanced at him.

“Of course not! I never meant to kill him!” Malfoy hurried to explain. “I just wanted to teach him a lesson. Then Tom… that Riddle said he had a way to punish Weasley. I believed him.”

“So you let the Basilisk out?”

“I didn’t know,” Malfoy said. “I just felt like I fell asleep. When I woke up, my clothes were soaked—but I have no idea what happened in between.”

“Silven,” Malfoy lifted his head, took a deep breath. “If you keep this secret, I’ll give you a fortune in Galleons.”

“A tempting offer,” Silven shrugged. “Too bad you should’ve told me sooner. Sorry—I told the Headmaster half an hour ago.”

Silven never intended to hide what happened last night. Riddle’s screams lasted so long—no door could have muffled them. Someone had to have heard.

Even if no one heard, there were ghosts and portraits in the halls. Perhaps they’d tell Dumbledore.

So early that morning, Silven found Professor McGonagall and had her take him to the Headmaster’s office, revealing the diary and Riddle’s soul.

Of course, he concealed the existence of the Horcrux Codex, claiming that once Riddle’s soul was fully extracted, the diary turned to ash.

Dumbledore didn’t doubt this explanation. He looked astonished—but also as if it made perfect sense.

Silven still remembered what Dumbledore had said then.

“Remarkable. Tom Riddle was the cleverest student I’ve ever seen. Few could match his mastery of magic by fifth year.”

Then Lucius arrived and without a word tried to throw Silven out of the Headmaster’s office.

Conveniently, Silven had already feared lingering too long might reveal something to Dumbledore, so he left willingly.

After all, the Horcrux Codex contained the very words “Horcrux.” If Dumbledore found out, he’d confiscate it—Silven didn’t know whether to give it up or not.

That was also why he made Harry keep it secret.

Silven told Malfoy this—and watched his face turn instantly ashen.

“I’ll probably be expelled…” he muttered to himself, lying in bed.

Silven didn’t answer. He wouldn’t comfort him. He turned and hurried out of the infirmary.

Even if Malfoy was controlled by Riddle and didn’t know what he’d done, even if he didn’t order the Basilisk to attack him—could Riddle have forced him to spread rumors trying to get himself expelled?

Honestly, under these circumstances, Silven thought he’d already been kind—getting Malfoy to the infirmary without kicking him while he was down.

Let his father comfort him… though he wondered whether Professor Dumbledore had told Lucius who Tom Riddle was, or what the diary meant.

If Lucius found out, his expression would be priceless.

…

(End of Chapter)