When Bellatrix has a Daughter

12. A Babyish Misunderstanding

Harry traced his hands on his Marauder’s Map. No sign of Draco and Elvis. Where were they? He wondered. What are they doing? His heart pumped. Were they doing what they were not supposed to do? Then he let go of the absurd question. But what were they doing? 

“Ron,” he said. Ron grunted in his sleep. “Ron, you have to see this,” Harry persisted. No reply. Harry went to Ron’s bed and kneeled down. “Ron,” he said a bit loudly, right next to his ear.  Ron made a huge sound of irritation, “Cut it,” pulling the quilt over his head and leaning comfortably on his pillow. “Ron, listen,” Harry continued. “Tomorrow…,” Ron mumbled. “Ron, think of this. Draco and Elvis are not there in the Marauder’s map! Where do you reckon they are?” No reply. Harry said, “Gah,” and went back to his bed. There was no use of waking Ron up because he wouldn’t.

Questions buzzed in his head. Every minute, he checked the map to see if Elvis or Draco returned to their beds. They didn’t. Harry paced around impatiently, looking over to the clock every single minute. Why were they not returning? What were they doing? And where were they?

“Cut it,” Ron said sometime later once more, twitching in his bed. Ron mumbled something which sounded like, “…disturbing…” and went back to snoring again. Harry had no time to spare Ron thoughts; he was consumed in his own. At some point, his mind drifted over to Elvis and what Hermione had said about her, “…I think Elvis has a crush on you…” His stomach plunged as he thought about it and without knowing drifted off in his own daydreams, where Sirius was alive, Elvis was not Bellatrix’s daughter and Elvis was saying, “Harry…” tenderly. He shook those stupid thoughts away. What’s wrong with me? Harry thought. Technically speaking, Elvis was Harry’s enemy. It was Harry’s job to finish off Death Eaters…. Like Elvis, he thought and hated himself for it. In fact, he hated Elvis for being Bellatrix’s daughter. He hated Elvis for being a Death Eater (no matter what Ron and Hermione said he was still certain Malfoy and Elvis were Death Eaters) and he hated her for ever entering his life because now, it was Harry’s mission to finish off Voldemort, and their followers which included Elvis. Elvis is a Death Eater. She follows Voldemort. A new kind of hate bubbled over in his heart.

Yes, he thought. Elvis is my enemy. And anyway, I guess I liked last year’s Elvis. Not this new one. Yes, I hate this one. He felt a bit consoled now that he thought he’d sorted out his feelings.

At about seven in the morning, Draco and Elvis appeared out of thin air on the map. Harry concentrated on the map as both of them entered their own dorms. Where did they come from? Harry started becoming restless. He should have been paying attention instead of daydreaming! Agitated, he roughly said, “Mischief managed,” and threw it inside his trunk.

For all Harry knew, staying up the whole night hadn’t borne any fruits.

*

“Elvis,” a familiar voice called for me. I turned around; I had just been about to get out. I’d almost reached the door. My breath caught in my throat. Harry stood there with frozen eyes. I made sure my face was devoid of all emotion too. “Yes?” I said politely as if I didn’t recognize him. It had been a tiring night. Half the night in The Room of Requirement couldn’t have been more useless. We tried this and that. Draco looked lost. So did I but at least I was doing something about it. The sight which greeted us when we entered the Room of Requirement was so unpleasantly surprising. It was a small cubicle. That was it. Nothing else. Just an empty cubicle. What were we supposed to do out there? There was simply no way! Half the night, we sat cramped on the cubicle, trying to think. Draco looked so dazed, I wasn’t even sure he was thinking. “Draco,” I’d said softly, keeping my hand on his knee. I’d figured being irritated with him for doing nothing would be of no use. Anyway, he was too desperate. Comforting him than being angry at him would be better. When he looked up at me, it was then that I saw the pools of pain in them. “Father...” he moaned.