With a casual snap of his fingers, Douglas sent the battered old diary—along with a rather foul-smelling sock—floating through the air to land right in front of Lucius Malfoy.
Lucius's face twisted, whether from the diary or the sock was anyone's guess. Panic and anger warred in his eyes as he yanked the sock out, flinging it aside without a thought.
But the sock landed perfectly in Dobby's hands. Dobby stared at it, wide-eyed and trembling, as if he'd just caught hold of a holy relic.
Of course, there was nothing accidental about it. Douglas had enchanted that sock long ago—no matter how Lucius threw it, it would always find its way to Dobby.
Lost in his own fury, Lucius didn't notice a thing behind him.
He inspected the diary closely, forcing his anger down and speaking in a deceptively calm voice.
"Professor Holmes, what exactly are you playing at?"
Douglas shrugged.
"Returning property to its rightful owner, of course. Well, perhaps not the rightful owner—let's just say I'm asking you to pass it along..."
Before he could finish, Dobby's voice piped up, barely above a whisper.
"Master has given Dobby a sock. Master threw it to Dobby..."
Lucius spun around, his irritation flaring.
"What did you say?"
Dobby's disbelief was written all over his face.
"Dobby's got a sock. Master threw it. Dobby caught it. Dobby—Dobby is free!"
Douglas couldn't help himself—he burst out laughing.
"Mr. Malfoy, you truly are a remarkable wizard. I dare say, granting a house-elf their freedom is unheard of among the pure-blood families, isn't it?"
Lucius sat there in shock, staring at the trembling house-elf. Suddenly, he whipped out his wand, leveling it at Douglas and shouting,
"You've made me lose my—"
He didn't get the chance to finish. Douglas flicked his wand, and a Full Body-Bind Curse snapped Lucius straight as a board, sending him sliding stiffly off his chair.
But before Lucius could hit the floor, Dobby stepped forward, voice trembling with fury.
"You will not harm the gentleman!"
With a thunderous crack!, the paralyzed Lucius slammed into the tea table, snapping a leg clean off.
Douglas watched the scene with a mix of amusement and sympathy. Lucius was rigid as a statue, but fighting not to let his tears fall.
"Sigh, villains always talk too much. Draco Malfoy's already outdoing his father in that regard," he quipped.
He glanced at his broken table leg, then turned to Dobby, who was still shaking with excitement.
"Dobby, can you guess why I didn't use an attack spell?"
Dobby tilted his head, utterly confused.
Douglas didn't elaborate. He repaired the table leg with a flick of his wand, then summoned Lucius's wand into his own hand.
Only then did he release Lucius from the spell.
Freed from the curse, Lucius immediately clutched his aching back, shooting Dobby a venomous glare.
Dobby, out of habit, started to punish himself, but Douglas stopped him in time.
"You're a free house-elf now, Dobby. There's no need to fear him anymore.
Why don't you have a seat at my desk? Help yourself to the fruit and—well, the pastries. I'd like to talk with you in a bit."
Dobby trembled, barely restraining his urge for self-punishment, and looked at Douglas with wide-eyed awe.
"No one's ever asked Dobby to sit and have pastries. Never..."
Douglas turned to Lucius, who was still glaring daggers at him, and smirked.
"It seems your servant matters more to you than your master...
Oh, don't rush to deny it. When you thought your master's entrusted item was damaged, you didn't draw your wand. But the moment you lost your servant, you did..."
Lucius's pupils contracted as he glanced at the diary still lying on the table. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he spat,
"I don't know what you're talking about. All I know is that you—a Mud—no, a Muggle-born wizard—have just attacked the head of the Malfoy family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I'm sure Cornelius will see justice done."
(Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic.)
Douglas drew out his reply,
"Ohhh, I've heard the students say that young Draco always threatens to 'tell his father' whenever something goes wrong...
So that's where he gets it. Mr. Malfoy, as your son's teacher, I feel compelled to say this:
As parents, we must lead by example—set the best standards, be the best role models.
Raising children is a serious matter, one that demands care and attention from both school and family...
When teaching children, it's better to show them how to act than to simply recite rules..."
Lucius was now clutching his back and his head, both throbbing. If his wand weren't in Douglas's hand, he would have cast Avada Kedavra without a second thought.
"Enough! What do you want?"
Douglas dropped the mocking tone, growing serious.
"It was a clever scheme. Clearly, you don't fully understand what this thing does, but you knew it was a relic of the Dark Lord. As long as it appeared at Hogwarts, chaos would follow.
That would give you the chance to drive Dumbledore out...
And even if nothing happened, you'd be safe, because your real goal was to dodge Ministry scrutiny.
It wasn't until you heard Slytherin's Chamber had been found that you realized this diary was far more dangerous than you'd thought..."
Lucius had regained his composure. He knew Douglas wouldn't dare truly harm him here at Hogwarts, so he sneered,
"Do you have any proof?"
Douglas shrugged, then smiled slyly.
"None at all. But I can tell you a secret: there's a fragment of Voldemort's soul inside that diary..."
Even though the name always made him uncomfortable, Lucius instinctively clutched his left forearm. His face went white as a sheet, and he stared at Douglas, shaking.
Douglas continued, voice dripping with irony,
"Tsk, with your family's archives, you'll figure out what this really is soon enough. Quite the bombshell, isn't it?"
Lucius stammered,
"He's dead—he's dead!"
Douglas chuckled, utterly unconcerned.
"Exactly. Since he's dead, what are you so afraid of?"
Malfoy stared at Douglas in horror.
"It all makes sense now. No wonder you knew where the Chamber was... It was you—it was him—"
Douglas sipped his tea.
"Relax. Ever heard the phrase 'ignorance is innocence'? Right now, I'm the only one who knows you're aware of the diary's secret..."
Lucius sneered,
"You're just a youngster. You can't possibly know the Dark Lord's true terror! But he's dead. You can't threaten me with this."
Douglas met his stubborn gaze.
"Is he really dead? You know the answer yourself. Last year's news might fool others, but not you."
Lucius hesitated, then asked bluntly,
"What do you want? Power? Money?"
Douglas tapped the table.
"My request is simple: never mistreat Dobby again. That's all."
Lucius was taken aback, glancing at Dobby, who was nibbling pastries across the room. Thanks to a Silencing Charm, he couldn't hear a word of their conversation.
Douglas added suddenly,
"One more thing. Do you really think you can preserve your so-called family glory by following Voldemort's childish dreams?
Maybe you had no choice before, but now you do. You could choose to stop him from returning. After all, you betrayed him—if he comes back...
Or you could keep waiting for his return, keep following him, using your family as pawns for your pure-blood pride...
But don't get your hopes up. Once you go home and realize what you've really destroyed, you'll understand.
Just a bit of advice from your son's teacher—take it or leave it."
Lucius glared daggers at Douglas, wishing he could do more.
Then a thought struck him: wasn't the Defence Against the Dark Arts post supposed to be cursed by the Dark Lord? Yet here Douglas sat, unharmed. Was the Dark Lord truly finished?
He quickly dismissed the idea. That man was far too terrifying.
"Utterly ridiculous. Dumbledore's already an old man. If the Dark Lord really isn't dead, who could possibly stop him? You? Or that naïve little savior? Ridiculous!"
Douglas just smiled, saying nothing.
He didn't really expect to turn this fence-sitter so easily.
But since Lucius fancied himself a businessman, he'd inevitably weigh his options. All Douglas needed was to plant a seed of doubt—perhaps Lucius would switch sides even sooner than in the original timeline.
Douglas tossed Lucius's wand back to him.
Lucius caught it, then picked up his cane and slotted the snake-headed wand inside.
He snatched up the battered diary and stormed toward the door.
Dobby instinctively started to follow, then remembered he was free now, and sat back down, still a little nervous.
At the doorway, Lucius paused, turned, and said,
"If you weren't Muggle-born, I think you'd have made an excellent Slytherin."
Douglas lifted his chin, gazing upward with a hint of sorrow.
"No, Slytherin would never welcome me!"
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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