Blackgrave Manor

Blackgrave Manor

Chapter 9.

Narcissa stood drooping on the sidewalk and stared at the house in front of her. It was a squat edifice somewhere between gray and beige in color; its roof hung over the windows like a hat hiding a sullen man's eyes. Up and down the street were more houses, all identical, all glowering. Narcissa thought longingly of the wide moors and the steep, craggy mountains. Only last night she had stood free between the green earth and the sky. Now she was boxed in, among all of these horrible houses. Somehow they did not seem inappropriate homes for something as awful as a Dursley.

"So, have yeh thought o' a way ter break the curse?" asked Hagrid.

Narcissa had not. She had tried, truly she had, throughout the previous night's long journey. Whether trudging through dark tunnels, tramping across the moor, or leaning exhausted against a bench in the dusty railway station, she had asked herself only one thing: how could she undo what Lucius had done? Nothing had occurred to her . . . Nothing but the faintest glimmer of an idea, while she was nodding into sleep in the railway carriage, with Hagrid sitting strong and safe beside her. She had seen clouds, and stones, and again she had heard the soft beating of wings . . .

"All I can think of," Narcissa said, "is that maybe . . . Maybe now that the stone circle in my house is destroyed, the spell is weaker. But I don't know what else we can do."

"Well, now, that's somethin'. That's definitely somethin'. I s'pose mebbe we should go inside? There must be some kind o' clue."

Narcissa and Hagrid walked up the path together, and Hagrid pounded on the door. Nobody answered. He knocked again. Still nobody answered. Finally Hagrid began fishing in the pockets of his greatcoat, with a somewhat furtive expression.

"What are you looking for?" asked Narcissa.

"Um, ah, yeh see," Hagrid told her, "the last time the Dursleys here nearly didn' let Harry come to Hogwarts, little Hermione said ter me, she said, ‘Hagrid, mebbe yeh could get a key? An' then we wouldn' have ter break Harry out like he was in some kind o' prison?' So if I can jus' find the thing"-- he produced a bronze key, which looked utterly tiny in his hand, and fumbled with the lock-- "we'll be ready ter go."

Inside, the house seemed just as sullen. The air seemed stale, and the ceilings slumped under their own weight. Even the pictures were flat and lifeless.

"Mebbe I could look around down here, an' yeh could try upstairs?" Hagrid suggested. His head was bent to avoid the ceiling, and his voice sounded cramped somehow. Narcissa could see that he hated the house as much as she did.

"I will," Narcissa told him. She walked slowly up the stairs, wondering what a curse would look like, and how she would identify it in a place this deadening.

The first door Narcissa tried opened on a room filled with stuff. The floor and the bed were strewn with brightly clashing clothing, candy wrappers, and fragments of a strange gray substance. A massive black cube stood on the dresser, dominating the entire room. A Muggle mirror, perhaps, or a talking device; Narcissa wasn't sure. She wondered if this was Harry's room. Draco had always said he was spoiled.

Perhaps the black cube was the curse? But it seemed too Muggle-ish, too brash for Lucius, and Narcissa didn't want to wade through the piles of clothing. She turned to a door on the other side of the hall.

This door also opened on a bedroom, but a bedroom painfully organized. A large bed covered with a garish floral blanket stood in the center of the room, and beside it was a dresser with a giant alarm clock and a framed photo of a remarkably fat child. Otherwise, the room was nearly empty.

This must be the bedroom of the Dursley. Narcissa felt cold just looking at it, but she had to search for clues. She stepped into the room and opened the first dresser drawer. As she did so, she felt somebody tap her shoulder.

"Dearest?" said a voice. "What in the Devil's name are you doing here?"

It was Lucius. He was still alive. He was looking for the Dursley.

Narcissa clung to the dresser and tried to stand.