Blackgrave Manor

Blackgrave Manor

Chapter 7.

Narcissa took a deep breath. She didn't want to tell this story, any of it, but she had no other choice. "I met Lord Voldemort," she began, "when I was very young. I knew him . . . socially at first. Only socially. I thought he was charming, and handsome." That pale skin, those wide eyes set just a little bit too far apart . . . Narcissa hadn't known how old he was, then. She hadn't known anything.

Narcissa felt the chill evening breeze across her cheek. If only she could see the giants' faces, guess how they were reacting. But she was inside the circle of candlelight, and they were outside, masked by shadow. Their eyes still shone, huge, unreadable.

"Voldemort had a group," Narcissa continued. "A certain set. I went to their parties, hoping he would show up. Sometimes he did. Once or twice he spoke to me. I was excited. Time passed. I was invited to more parties, and then more exclusive parties. Sometimes Lord Voldemort took me aside, told me secrets. This person he admired, this person he didn't trust. I told him secrets, too. I was so flattered, and so young."

Night had fallen in earnest, now. Around Narcissa the giants' eyes gleamed in the flickering light.

"He liked to boast about politics, especially. The soldiers who would follow him anywhere, the diplomat from China. His contacts in the Ministry. There were all these people who loved him, whom he was going to . . ."

She had to say it. She couldn't stop now. "Whom he was going to betray."

A brief murmur might have been a giant, gasping, or it could have been only the cold wind.

"He didn't care about anyone. Only his own plans. He was questing for something that only he could gain. I didn't want to believe that, none of us did, but it's true."

The wind cut straight through Narcissa's thin white dress. She began to shiver.

"And he talked about you. The giants. The names were different, then, but he mentioned you often. Rechert and Wull. How much they admired him. How stupid they were, how big and clumsy, and how superstitious. He said that a lot. Superstitious. I didn't know what he meant, exactly."

Narcissa had barely been listening, then. She'd been staring into Voldemort's cold, cold eyes.

"And then he smiled, and said something about religion. He despised it, all of it. He said . . ."

The wind was growing stronger. If Narcissa didn't finish her story soon, she thought, it might blow her away. She would disappear forever . . .

But the story was almost over. Narcissa felt that it might finish itself, through her. She was just a flimsy paper doll, turned this way and that by her own breath. "Lord Voldemort said that he didn't need religion. He was beyond Heaven and Hell."

Narcissa didn't need to see the giants any more. She knew that every face was turned toward her, fixed there, like stone. Even the mountains must be watching her.

"Lord Voldemort was going to live forever."

The giants erupted into sound. Their leader, Ranald, pounded his fists on the great stone table. The vibration nearly knocked Narcissa off her feet.

"Order!" cried Ranald. "Order!"

The giants subsided. "I didn't know such blasphemy was possible," said the giant who had offered to look after Iris.

"How do we know it's his blasphemy, and not this puny human's?" Margreit demanded, shaking her white braids.

Ranald thumped his hand on the table before the giants could begin to shout again. "Hagrid, can you confirm her story?"

"Well, I don' know about the parties an' the diplomats . . ."

"That doesn't matter, Hagrid. Tell us. Is Lord Voldemort a liar and a heretic?"

"He's a liar, all right. I don' know so much about religion, but I can tell yeh that he wants, uh, immortality. An' was halfway ter achievin' it, or he wouldn' be back."

The giants shouted almost with one voice. The sound crashed through the valley as if the mountains themselves were falling. Narcissa sank to her knees.

Finally Ranald was able to make himself heard. "Hagrid, I do not know what our final decision will be, but I can see that you have done well in bringing the human woman to us. She has been very brave to tell us all these things. Take her away now, and find some food for all of you, especially your young charge."

Iris the raven screeched approvingly.

"Give me yer hands, ma'am, an' we'll make sure yeh get some rest," said Hagrid. Narcissa was only too glad to let him help her down from the stone table. Once out of the circle of candlelight, she found that she was shaking almost uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry I can' help you more, but I have to carry Iris here. It's jus' a few steps, really. You can do it," Hagrid said. Narcissa stumbled after him. She could barely see, and she was tired, so tired . . . She concentrated on walking. Only a few steps, he had said. All she had to do was take one step, and then another.

Narcissa found herself standing beside a tall stone portal, with almost no recollection of the way she had reached it. She stood still for a moment as Hagrid shifted the raven, and opened the door.

Inside Narcissa saw another vast cavern. This one was brightly lit: torches lined the walls, and a great bonfire was set into a pit in the center of the room. Smoke drifted up through a hole in the ceiling. Narcissa thought she saw a star shining beyond the haze.

"Look, ma'am," Hagrid said suddenly. He had set Iris down somewhere, and now he was holding a tasselled cushion nearly as big as Narcissa. "Why don' you come right over here, in this cozy corner, an' I'll bring yeh some supper. You must be nearly starved."

Narcissa followed him gladly. It was so wonderful to sit on a cushion, to be warm, to sip the spiced drink that Hagrid brought her. The sight of meat torn from some massive beast nearly made her ill, but she was able to nibble at a buttery bannock, and Hagrid even found her an apple.

"I'll jus' give Iris this slab o' mutton, then, if you don' want it," said Hagrid. "It's a little too cooked, mebbe, but I think she'll like it. An' then I might find her a place ter nest. I'll be back in a minute or two."

That ball of fluff ate raw meat? Narcissa shuddered, but the cinnamon-flavored drink in its wide clay cup seemed to steady her. Perhaps she would be able to rest here, for a little while. She could watch the sparks fly toward the stars, and forget everything else.

"Ma'am?" Hagrid asked. He knelt beside her, watching the fire. "I jus' wanted ter say, you were astonishin' with the council. I don' know if I could have done it without yeh, I really don't."

"Thank you," said Narcissa. "You've been so kind to me . . ."

"Yeh were really brave, standin' up there in the light."

His voice was so warm, so steady. Narcissa basked in the heat.

"But what I don' understand," said Hagrid, "is what a lady like you is doin' out on the moors at all. Shouldn' you be back in the city, doin' something, I don' know, classy?"

Narcissa didn't want to answer Hagrid, but she felt that he deserved an explanation. "I was visiting my country house, and then my . . . Lucius brought . . ."

"Brought what? Ma'am? Are you all right?"

"Brought . . . Mr. Dursley," sobbed Narcissa. Please, she thought. Please, don't ask anything more.

"A Dursley?" Hagrid's voice burned with anger, now, and his dark brows drew together forebodingly. "Why did he do that?"