Malfoy Manor

A moment later, he stepped out of the gate and into a wide, cobbled courtyard wrapped in mist. Snow dusted the grey stones like flour, and the towering, wrought-iron gates of Malfoy Manor rose ahead like a wall of thorns.

The manor itself loomed behind them—a vast, elegant estate carved from pale stone, with high towers and sweeping archways. Black slate roofs glistened with frost, and massive enchanted lanterns lit the entrance in golden hues.

Elias had seen many noble homes, but few carried the weight of power and pride quite like this.

As he approached the gate, it creaked open with a wave of wandless magic. The figures of Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Draco awaited him at the grand entrance.

Lucius stood with the poise of someone born to authority, his cane resting lightly in one gloved hand, silver hair gleaming like moonlight. Narcissa, regal in her fur-lined cloak of midnight blue, gave Elias a smile that was both polite and sincere. Draco, clad in sharp winter robes and wearing his usual proud grin, stepped forward to greet him.

"Elias," Lucius said, his tone smooth and cultured, "it's an honor to have a Blackthorn at our manor once again. You're most welcome."

"Thank you, Lord Malfoy," Elias replied with equal grace, offering the obsidian-wrapped gift. "A token from my family's vault. I thought it might suit your collection."

Lucius raised a refined brow and accepted the parcel with interest. "Intriguing. Your family's taste has always been impeccable. I look forward to examining it."

Narcissa stepped forward next, brushing a soft kiss to Elias's cheek in greeting. "You've grown even taller since last time we met. We're so pleased you accepted Draco's invitation."

Draco clapped him lightly on the shoulder, grinning. "Come on, you will see the new dueling room Father added—it's incredible."

Elias nodded, his sharp eyes quickly taking in the subtle defensive charms surrounding the manor's perimeter. Layers of enchantments, almost invisible, shimmered faintly at the edge of his senses. He wasn't surprised—the Malfoys took their security seriously, especially after the events brewing in the shadows of the wizarding world.

As Elias stepped into the grand entrance hall of Malfoy Manor, the change in atmosphere was immediate. The floor beneath his boots was polished to a mirror-like sheen, made of pale marble veined with black. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings, each glowing with dozens of hovering candles that flickered gently in the winter light.

At the far end of the corridor, a familiar voice called out softly.

"You're late."

Elias turned to see Daphne Greengrass descending a wide, curved staircase. She was dressed in an elegant yet simple deep green robe, her hair tied loosely behind her shoulders. She wore a faint, amused smile as she reached the marble floor.

Elias raised a brow. "When did you get here?"

"About an hour ago," Daphne replied, brushing snow from the sleeves of her robe. 

Before they could speak further, Draco reappeared from a hallway leading into one of the inner salons.

"Come on, breakfast's already laid out. Father wants to hear how Hogwarts is handling all the excitement this year."

The three entered a stately dining room where a long ebony table gleamed under floating golden lights. The morning feast had already been set: fresh bread, fruit preserves, steaming silver teapots, and various cuts of meat and cheese—all served in fine enchanted china with silver linings bearing the Malfoy crest.

Lucius Malfoy sat at the head of the table, a pristine white napkin resting in his lap, while Narcissa sipped tea quietly at his left. Lucius gestured to the empty seats with the barest nod of his head.

"Sit. Eat."

As the three students took their places, polite murmurs of thanks followed. For a few minutes, only the clinking of silverware and the soft rustle of robes could be heard.

Then Lucius spoke, his tone casual—yet laced with purpose.

"So, Elias," he began, swirling his cup of tea slowly. "I hear there's… trouble at Hogwarts. A bit of old history come alive again?"

Elias didn't look up immediately. He finished cutting a piece of roast sausage before speaking, his tone even.

"Yes. There have been… incidents."

Lucius raised a pale brow. "Petrifications, I assume?"

Draco looked up at that, clearly interested.

"Three so far," Elias confirmed. "The cat, Colin Creevey, and a Hufflepuff—Justin Finch-Fletchley. And Nearly Headless Nick, oddly enough."

Narcissa looked slightly uneasy, but Lucius's expression didn't change. He merely took a thoughtful sip of tea.

"Well," he said at last, setting the cup down with a delicate clink, "you three have nothing to worry about. You're all pure-blooded. The Heir of Slytherin—if this nonsense is even true—would never target one of our own."

Draco gave a confident nod, clearly pleased with his father's assurance. "That's what I said. Muggle-borns are the ones at risk."

But Elias didn't reply right away. He had caught something—just for a second—in Lucius's eyes. A flicker of something… not fear, but perhaps calculation. A trace of restrained tension, expertly buried beneath his smooth exterior.

He knows something. Of course he does.

Elias could feel it. The way Lucius had guided the conversation, the careful phrasing, the lack of genuine surprise—it wasn't a stretch to guess the man knew more than he let on. Perhaps exactly what was happening. 

And he knew Lucius Malfoy had planted it.

He gave it to the Weasley girl. He must have known the diary's nature. He wanted chaos at Hogwarts. Maybe to discredit Dumbledore. Or for something else entirely…

But Elias said none of this. He had no intention of interfering—not unless it directly affected his own plans.

Instead, he reached for the toast, his expression unreadable.

"I'm not worried," he said simply. "But we're being careful."

Lucius gave a satisfied nod at that. "Good. Hogwarts could use more students with level heads."

Narcissa changed the subject after that, shifting to discussions about upcoming wizarding galas, pure-blood events, and Ministry affairs. But Elias remained half-quiet, his mind drifting toward the diary and the string of events that were slowly unfolding back at school.