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Harry Potter: Dudley From LOTM - 325
🕑 Added 2025-11-24 20:46:32 +0000 UTCChapter 325: Malfoy Manor
Malfoy Manor was a stately lord’s residence, its main house encircled by a meticulously planned garden. Fountains played in the gloom, and white peacocks wandered freely across the lawns. A pair of ornate wrought-iron gates stood before Dudley like a boundary between two different worlds.
"Mr Dursley, since this is your first time at Malfoy Manor, I need to lead you inside," Dobby explained.
"All right, Dobby. But from now on, you cannot call me Mr Dursley. That will give me away," Dudley said.
"Then how should Dobby address you?" Dobby looked up at him.
"Call me Justiciar," Dudley said.
"Yes, Justiciar. Please follow Dobby."
Dobby led him towards the wrought-iron gates. Before they even reached them, the house-elf lifted a finger and traced a slow line from top to bottom.
Hum.
A translucent ripple spread out from Dobby’s fingertip. The iron bars vibrated faintly, then settled back into stillness.
"All done," Dobby said, stepping forward and, under Dudley’s gaze, walking straight through the metal as if it were smoke.
Dudley copied his pace and posture, striding slowly ahead.
The instant he passed through, thick grey mist filled his vision. It felt for a heartbeat as if he had been dropped into an endless, featureless wilderness. Then the world cleared.
He now stood on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Behind him was the wrought-iron gate he had just walked through.
"This way, please," Dobby said.
He led the way while Dudley followed, moving towards the lavish main house.
Spirit Vision already active, Dudley examined the estate ahead.
For some reason, the moment he stepped inside, a faint chill had settled over him. He could not pinpoint its source. Malfoy Manor was not his territory, and he did not know it well. That meant his Justiciar Pathway abilities would be slightly constrained here. He could rely on his own powers, but could not draw any extra, environment-based bonuses from the place.
His eyes swept the garden. Every hedge and bed had clearly been carefully designed and pruned. Nearby, a fountain bubbled, the liquid stream changing colour and shape over time in mesmerising patterns.
From these and other details, Dudley could clearly see traces of magic everywhere. Some enchantments felt fresh, others ancient.
He sensed nothing overtly wrong among them and continued after Dobby.
Under the night sky, the two of them walked at an unhurried pace. As they passed a strolling white peacock, the bird glanced at Dudley, then lazily turned away and continued its measured walk.
"There is no one else in the manor?" Dudley asked.
For Dobby to simply waddle along with him like this into Malfoy's grounds was not what he had expected.
"No one else," Dobby replied. "Because of what happened before, the master dismissed many servants. There are very few people left in the manor now."
"Only house‑elves remain now. Tonight, when the master went to the banquet, he took another house‑elf with him, so at the moment it is just Dobby here in the manor."
Dudley nodded and said nothing more. They kept on towards the great house until they reached the main doors.
At the threshold, Dudley did not immediately follow Dobby inside. He paused and examined their surroundings carefully.
The doors were carved with elegant lines and reliefs, their style old and dignified. This doorway had likely stood here for a very long time.
"Is something wrong, Justiciar?" Dobby asked, puzzled when Dudley continued to linger outside.
"There are magical traces here," Dudley said.
"What? But... but Dobby never knew there was magic here," Dobby stammered.
He genuinely had no idea. The door had never, in his memory, triggered any spell.
"It is very old magic. I have seen it in Slytherin’s notes," Dudley said, his expression turning grave.
Hermione had not been wrong. Places like Malfoy Manor tended to be riddled with strange magical traps. A single misstep could expose an intruder.
Dudley believed Dobby would not deliberately lead him into danger. That meant the spell on this door was something the house-elf was unaware of.
He crouched and ran his fingers lightly along the carvings, focusing on one particular line.
One segment of the pattern was slightly darker than the rest. It had been carved to resemble a flower petal, but now that he was looking for it, it seemed more like a grotesque eye, staring out at everything around the door.
"Spell Standstill," Dudley intoned in Hermes.
Hum.
A subtle, transparent ripple spread out. The darker lines of the carving dulled rapidly, losing their sheen like a flower fading in an instant.
"That should do it," Dudley said, straightening.
"That is all?" Dobby said, stunned.
A spell he had never even noticed had been suppressed by Dudley with a single incantation. To him, it was nothing short of incredible.
"It was a detection charm," Dudley explained. "Every person who passes through this doorway is logged. If it is their first time entering, the spell triggers and alerts the master of the manor that a stranger has arrived. Beyond that, it does nothing."
That was what made such wards so insidious. Aside from notification, they had no obvious effect. Because the method of constructing them had been lost for centuries, most wizards never even thought to look for them.
Dudley had only recognised it because of an obscure reference he had found in an ancient Slytherin grimoire.
"Besides," he added with a small smile, "my Spell Standstill has some special enhancements. When most people use that spell, they would not get the same result."
"Justiciar is amazing," Dobby said, full of awe.
Once Dudley was sure there were no other hidden surprises, he stepped through the doorway into the manor proper.
The entrance hall was wide and long. Portraits of Malfoy witches and wizards from generations past lined the walls, and nearly every flagstone was covered with an ornate carpet that stretched as far as the eye could see.
"No wonder Draco always speaks from on high and drips arrogance," Dudley said quietly. "Growing up in a place like this, it would be hard not to."
"Mist, enshroud."
He lifted a hand and spoke another of his own spells.
This one was not difficult and carried no special mystical properties. It simply summoned fog thick enough to cloak the surroundings.
A heavy, colourless mist rolled out of nowhere, smothering the portraits until not a single painted face was visible.
The figures in wizarding portraits could move and even possessed a measure of intelligence. Given that, it was best if they did not see him at all.
