Armand Malfoy was the first Malfoy to come to England.
He followed William, Duke of Normandy, and helped defeat the English king of the time, Harold II. After William proclaimed himself king, Armand was granted a vast estate in Wiltshire.
That was how Malfoy Manor first came to be. In later years, it swallowed up many Muggle lands and expanded.
But no matter what, it had stood here for a full ten centuries.
Even now, the manor belonged to the Malfoy family, owned by its patriarch, Lucius Malfoy.
Today, however, Lucius was in a foul mood. He had gone straight to his study without even eating dinner.
"Tap... tap..."
His fingers tapped rhythmically against two thin sheets of paper as his pale gray eyes stared blankly out the window.
In the silver moonlight, the magnificent fountain sent up silver spray. A white peacock strolled over from the neatly trimmed garden and drank gracefully at its edge.
The beautiful sight drew not the slightest attention from its owner, Lucius Malfoy.
"Pop."
A figure appeared out of nowhere. It was a house-elf.
"The mistress asked Dobby to ask the master if he would like something to eat," the big-eyed Dobby said.
"Get out."
At the angry command, Dobby vanished with a pop.
Lucius's gaze returned to the first sheet of paper. It contained only one simple line:
Read the second page when Dobby is gone.
At first, Lucius thought the words were a prank. If he hadn't already opened the envelope, he might have thrown the pages away.
But when he opened the second page...
Lucius looked at the second page. It contained more words than the first:
Dear Malfoy,
I'm an old friend of yours. We share a secret that belongs to us alone:
A diary. A Chamber.
I think you already know who I am.
Then remember the time and place below, and be there promptly.
July 23, ten in the morning.
The phone booth at the intersection of Kensington High Street and Derry Street, Chelsea, London.
Answer after the phone rings three times.
Your friend.
That was the end of the letter. It was clearly from a mysterious friend, but Lucius knew who it was—and the thought had left him unable to eat or sleep.
What kind of person could make the wealthy, well-connected head of the Malfoy family so troubled with just a letter?
There was only one answer: his master.
Master. It was a word that made a person seem small, but that was what they called him. For a long time, they had been proud to do so.
Ten years had passed—an entire decade. Countless times, Lucius had asked himself:
Was I mad back then? Was I consumed by desire? Was I controlled by magic?
The answer to all of those questions was no. Ten years later, he still remembered that man—powerful and imposing, so much so that people could forget his handsome face.
If he could go back, Lucius knew he would still unhesitatingly pledge himself to that man, for his power, his charisma, and the... benefits he brought to the Pure-bloods.
But fate had not favored his master. He had failed, defeated by a child. Even after ten years, the Death Eaters still thought it was an elaborate lie.
Lucius had thought it was all over after he gave up a large portion of his fortune and forcibly shed the guilt that clung to him. At least, that was what he had believed for the past ten years.
But now, a thin letter...
Could he refuse?
No, that wasn't the right question. It should have been: Did he dare refuse?
He didn't.
Even knowing that the man was surely no longer as powerful as before, and might even be very weak, he still didn't dare.
But... who would believe a letter with no explanation? How did he know it wasn't a trap set by the Ministry of Magic to bring the Death Eaters to justice?
That gave him an excuse to refuse, but the most fundamental question remained:
Did he dare?
He could come up with countless reasons and excuses, but if there was even the tiniest flaw in his story, then when his master arrived...
At the thought, Lucius couldn't help shivering.
From nightfall until dawn, his fists clenched and unclenched, his wand was picked up and set down again, and at long last...
"Narcissa, I have to go out for a while. Take care of the house."
He told his wife this. Narcissa looked at him in confusion, but he didn't dare say another word.
July 23, ten in the morning.
A red telephone booth in Chelsea, London.
"Ring, ring... ring, ring... ring, ring..."
The phone rang right on time. Lucius lifted the receiver with a trembling hand. In his heart, he desperately hoped it was a prank—even a Ministry of Magic scheme would have been preferable—but it was neither.
"It's me."
A metallic voice came from the other end of the line. It had clearly been altered, but Lucius recognized it at once, and his suspended heart immediately sank back into place.
"Master, I've searched for you for ten years. Not a moment has gone by when I stopped."
There was a long silence on the other end. His heart began to pound again, but fortunately, a voice soon came through.
"I believe you, my child."
The electronic voice said, "But now is no time for reminiscing. I'm still caught up in a conspiracy, and I need your help."
"Child, are you still willing to trust and help me unconditionally, as you did before?"
Lucius keenly sensed a change. Compared to the paranoia his master had shown in his final days ten years ago, he seemed much more clear-minded now.
"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "I'm always waiting for your summons."
"Excellent."
The electronic voice sounded pleased. "Two tasks, and one piece of news."
"Dedalus Diggle and Cordelia—I don't know his full name, but he's a drunk at the Leaky Cauldron. Find either of them by July 28.
"Surreptitiously alter their memories of drinking on July 22. You'd better not look into that section of their memories. It's better for both your plans and mine."
Altering a drunk's memories shouldn't be difficult... Lucius committed it all to memory and quickly gave his answer.
"No problem, Master. I'll make sure it's done," he replied firmly.
"That won't be difficult for you, but the next task will be a little troublesome."
The electronic voice's words immediately made Lucius tense up.
"I need you to get into Gringotts before Hagrid takes Little Potter there on July 29 and try to steal the contents of Vault 713."
Master, you still don't understand the difference between trouble and danger... Lucius thought, his face turning pale.
"I have to warn you," the electronic voice continued without pause. "Dumbledore is watching everything."
Master, you might as well just tell me to buy a coffin...
"But the good news is that you don't actually have to steal anything. Just pretend to, and draw his attention away."
I commend you, Master. That was a wise decision...
"But that's not all there is to the task. You also need to..."
Lucius's mind went blank. He jolted back to his senses. "Master, I lost focus after you said, 'That's not all there is to the task.' Sorry for the trouble, but could you say that again?"
There was clear surprise on the other end of the line. After a long pause, the voice spoke again.
Before you continue