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HRHL# Chapter 110: Malfoy Manor
🕑 Added 2025-03-02 20:36:00 +0000 UTCIn the afternoon, Harry visited Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions again to purchase an outfit suitable for attending the evening banquet.
Poppy had originally wanted to accompany him and help pick out clothes, but considering her current feline-like appearance, she decided against it.
Around four o’clock, Harry prepared to set off for Malfoy Manor.
Just as he was about to leave, Poppy bit down on the hem of his robe with a soft whimper.
“You have to come back early.”
“Don’t worry.” Harry patted Poppy’s head. “Even though you’re a unicorn and don’t need to... hmm... still, try not to eat too much, just in case it’s hard to digest.”
“Got it, Dad~” Poppy whined, shaking her head. “You really are just like my father—just as annoying.”
Harry shook his head with a helpless smile. Waving goodbye, he stepped out of the door and disappeared into thin air with a crack.
The moment Harry left, Poppy’s body suddenly flickered with a ghostly white light.
In his place now stood the beautiful young girl wearing a Hufflepuff uniform once more.
“Idiot...” she murmured. “How could a unicorn possibly...
Yes, but I’m a ghost...
She gazed mournfully at the grand feast laid out before her, occupying an entire bed.
Thank you, Harry...
But I can’t taste any of it...
--
By the time Dobby had returned to Malfoy Manor to report to Lucius, the latter had already ordered the entire estate’s house-elves to begin preparations for the evening banquet.
Even though Harry was just a first-year student, Lucius intended to treat the occasion with utmost seriousness.
It had nothing to do with any personal favor—it was simply because Harry had pointed out the Dark Mark on Draco’s arm.
As for Draco’s words about ‘the Harry Potter from a century ago,’ Lucius didn’t take them to heart.
The Harry Potter from a hundred years ago?
Lucius had no doubt that his foolish son had been tricked by someone.
Still, etiquette had to be observed. At precisely 4:30, he stood with his wife, Narcissa, and their son, Draco, at the manor’s grand entrance, awaiting Harry’s arrival.
“Father, do you think Potter will take a while to get here...”
Before Draco could finish speaking, a sharp cracking sound split the air.
A few steps away, the air twisted and swirled, and the next moment, Harry appeared before them.
Lucius’ pupils contracted at the sight of Harry Apparating directly to Malfoy Manor’s gates.
Twelve years old, my ass.
Everyone knew that Apparition was a spell requiring students to be at least seventeen years old and to undergo complex training before they could use it.
Even among trained wizards, a significant portion struggled with Apparition, often running the risk of Splinching.
And yet, here was Harry—
Not to mention, he had Apparated all the way from the Leaky Cauldron in London!
Malfoy Manor was located in Wiltshire, over a hundred kilometers away from London!
Long-distance Apparition required not only an exceptional level of skill but also an immense reserve of magical power.
Of course, being the ever-pragmatic fence-sitter that he was, Lucius smoothly accepted the fact that Harry was a prodigy.
It made sense, after all. The Boy Who Lived ought to have something extraordinary about him.
“You must be Mr. Harry Potter?” Lucius stepped forward and extended his hand. “Lucius. Lucius Malfoy. It’s an honor.”
“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy.” Harry shook his hand and then offered Narcissa a courteous bow. “Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy.”
“Good evening, Mr. Potter.” Narcissa returned the gesture with equal grace.
“Draco, we meet again.” Harry turned to Draco with a smile.
Draco looked visibly anxious—he was desperate for Harry to just confess everything already.
“Potter... I mean, Harry.” Draco, much like his father, smoothly adjusted his tone, shifting to a more familiar address.
Before he could say more, he caught a sharp warning glance from his father and immediately shut his mouth.
“Please, come in, Mr. Potter.” Lucius gestured for Harry to enter.
Harry lifted his gaze and took in the sight of Malfoy Manor.
The estate was a stately lord’s residence, surrounded by meticulously designed gardens. Several fountains dotted the landscape, and elegant white peacocks roamed freely across the grounds.
It seemed the manor had not changed much over the past century. In fact, it had even gained a few decorative additions, maintaining the grandeur befitting the Malfoy name.
Stepping inside, Harry found himself in a residence far more opulent than it had been a hundred years ago. Lavish furnishings, marble fireplaces, gilded mirrors, and carpets covering every inch of the floor—every detail proclaimed the Malfoy family’s wealth and prestige.
Harry cast an approving glance at Lucius.
This Malfoy gentleman... was no mere fool, after all.
He seemed quite adept at managing his wealth.
Lucius, catching Harry’s gaze, was momentarily puzzled.
Something felt odd—Harry’s expression wasn’t one of disdain or contempt, as he had expected. Rather, it resembled approval.
The kind of approval a senior might bestow upon a junior?
Lucius shook his head, pushing away the strange feeling.
For now, it was time to dine.
The evening’s meal was French cuisine—a tradition upheld by the Malfoy family. When Harry had visited as a guest a century ago, Septimus Malfoy had also entertained him with a French dinner.
Since this was a private gathering rather than a grand banquet, the Malfoys’ long dining table had not been extended. Under the guidance of the house-elves, Harry took a seat to Lucius’ right.
This was in line with British dining etiquette. Typically, the primary guest of honor was seated to the right of the host, allowing for easy conversation. The guest’s spouse, if present, would be seated to the right of the hostess.
Of course, if the hostess was the one hosting the event, the guest of honor would sit beside her instead.
Harry, however, had no female companion. Not that he could have brought one even if he wanted to.
Firstly, Veratia was a portrait.
Secondly, Poppy was a unicorn.
Lastly... if he chose Cassandra, she would technically be the matriarch of this household—the true lady of the manor.
Damn these generational ties...
Lucius struck a perfect balance—neither overly warm nor distant. His sense of social decorum was impeccable.
Harry found himself appreciating it. To be honest, he wasn’t fond of overly familiar behavior, and Lucius’ measured approach was quite to his liking.
Their conversation revolved around Hogwarts, Gryffindor affairs, and, subtly, the details of Harry’s duel with Miss Farley.
Harry’s responses were impeccable, not a single detail out of place—certainly not the replies of an ordinary first-year student.
His manners and conversational skills had been honed by Cassandra herself.
During the summer holidays, when Harry had nowhere to go, Cassandra had frequently summoned him to Malfoy Manor under the pretense of being her ‘assistant.’
And then, of course, Septimus Malfoy had taken him along to various high-society events...
Even a fool would have learned something after watching for so long.
As dessert was served after the meal, the conversation naturally shifted to the main topic.
"Mr. Potter, I must once again express my gratitude for your help with Draco," Lucius said. "As a father, the last thing I want is to see my child led astray."
"You’re too kind, Mr. Malfoy," Harry nodded slightly. "It was nothing, really."
Lucius was silent for a moment, about to speak when Narcissa could no longer hold back.
"Mr. Potter, is there any way… to save my child?" Narcissa asked urgently, her expression filled with worry. "He is my only son. I cannot bear to see him marked by… a certain group..."
"This is a very advanced Dark Magic curse, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry sighed.
"I know, I know—" Narcissa took a deep breath. "But my little dragon... Mr. Potter, if you can save him, the Malfoy family is willing to pay any price!"
Before Harry could respond, Lucius let out a quiet sigh.
"What Cissy said represents my stance as well," Lucius said.
Although his wife's sudden outburst had placed him in a passive position, he chose to stand with her.
Not just for Draco, but because they were in this together as husband and wife.
Harry was slightly moved. Narcissa's love for Draco reminded him of his own mother.
He could see it clearly—this Malfoy mother loved her child no less than his own had loved him.
The rarest thing in this world was true empathy.
Originally, he had considered using this as leverage to gain Lucius’ support for his candidate on the Hogwarts Board of Governors.
But looking at this mother before him, he found himself unwilling to take advantage of her like that.
"I happened to come across a counter-curse for this in Hogwarts' restricted section," Harry said. "Since the curse was placed not too long ago, I should still be able to remove it."
At his words, Narcissa’s face lit up with joy.
"Thank you, thank you, Mr. Potter!" she said.
"Draco, hold out your hand."
Harry pulled out his wand—not the holly one.
"Will… will it work?" Draco swallowed nervously.
He did trust Harry. After all, he had convinced himself that Harry was the reincarnation of that legendary wizard from a hundred years ago.
But now, he couldn't help but worry—what if the mark truly couldn't be removed? What then?
"Relax," Harry smiled gently and pointed his wand at the Dark Mark.
Suddenly, sharp pain shot through Draco's arm.
Not just Draco—even Lucius' arm reacted as well.
Lucius' pupils contracted.
If he had been 60% sure before, now he was absolutely certain—the Dark Mark had been placed by Voldemort himself.
He clenched his teeth in frustration but kept his expression composed.
"It… it hurts," Draco gritted out.
"Of course it does. Who told you to get this thing in the first place?" Harry rolled his eyes.
He infused his wand tip with ancient magic and tapped the snake head on the mark.
The snake suddenly opened its mouth and bit onto Harry’s wand.
Harry gave a sharp tug, and the entire serpent was pulled from Draco's arm.
Then, he repeated the process, tapping the skull next. Just like the snake, the skull was yanked off as well.
Narcissa grabbed Draco's arm and examined it closely—his skin was smooth once more, without the slightest trace of the Dark Mark.
The mark, now exposed to open air, twisted and writhed as if trying to resist.
But Harry flicked his wand, sending a streak of green light toward it, dispersing its shadow entirely.
"Wha… what was that?" Lucius swallowed hard.
That…
A green spell?!
Silent casting, without even needing to gather emotions…
Merlin’s pants…
"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, don’t worry." Harry casually placed his wand in front of Lucius. "Why don’t you try a Flashback Charm?"
Lucius took a deep breath, pulled out his wand, and tapped it against Harry’s wand tip.
"Lu… Lumos?" he said in astonishment.
"That’s right. The Dark Mark is, in essence, a shadow. Once removed from the arm, it can be dispersed with light," Harry said with a cheerful grin.
He had done that on purpose—just to see Lucius' reaction.
Hmm… not bad. He finally got to see another expression from him.
As a former Death Eater, Lucius was, of course, familiar with the Killing Curse.
But the issue here was—Harry was just a first-year student!
What kind of first-year could casually cast a silent Avada Kedavra?! That was what had shocked him the most.
In truth, the Unforgivable Curses were not "unforgivable" simply because they could manipulate emotions.
The real reason was that they required an overwhelming emotional intent.
Much like how criminal law defines "premeditation"—if you accidentally kill someone with an explosion spell, it could be argued as an accident.
But if you cast an Avada Kedavra, let’s see you try to argue your way out of that.
Without the intent to kill, the Killing Curse simply wouldn’t work.
"Phew." Harry exhaled and said to Lucius, "Good thing we acted in time. If it had been two months later, even I wouldn't have been able to do anything."
At these words, Lucius couldn't help but press a hand to his left arm.
…Sigh.
Forget it.
As long as Draco was freed from control, that was enough.
He gave Harry a rare smile and said, "Thank you, Mr. Potter. You are a true benefactor of the Malfoy family!"
"Indeed, Mr. Potter," Narcissa nodded in agreement. "If not for your help, Draco would have…"
"It was nothing," Harry replied politely.
Draco tapped the table and grinned slyly.
"See, Father, Mother? I told you—Harry is the legendary wizard from a hundred years ago! You didn’t believe me! But think about it—only someone like that could remove the curse mark on my arm..."
"Draco!" Lucius scolded, then turned to Harry. "Apologies, Mr. Potter. Draco… he is still a child. His thoughts can be a bit… unrestrained."
Harry glanced at Draco.
He honestly hadn't expected the boy to believe his nonsense from before so wholeheartedly.
But it didn’t matter to him. After all, with the Philosopher's Stone enhancing his magic, ordinary wizards were no threat to him.
"However..." Lucius continued, "not even Dumbledore or the Dark Lord had such abilities at your age. Could it be, as Draco says, that you really are… the wizard from a century ago?"
