Disclaimer/ AN: I do not own any of the characters I'm sorry to say. And don't make me write this on every chapter since its pretty damn obvious that I didn't write the Harry Potter books so this is only going to be written once. Sorry if I sound bitchy I'm just trying to make it clear. Kkayz! Enjoy!
Most of England was in turmoil. New bridges were collapsing and the government was being blamed. There was a freak hurricane in the West Country; that was attributed to global warming. And then the two grisly murders of Emmeline Vance and Amelia Bones both killed in the same suspicious manner and their killers were still at large. Oh and not to mention the Herbert Chorley's sudden strange mental problems along with downright dismal weather.
There were no explanations that could keep the blame of these things away. The community was not safe enough but they were doing everything in their power to fix it. That's what the government says. And for the muggles it was enough for the moment. At least until another logical reasoning was put into their brainwashed minds.
But the wizarding world knew better. The Dark Lord was BACK and hallelujah to that. He came back with ideas too. They took him two years to put into action but he did it finally and the time was ripe for it. Giants destroying homes in the West Country, slashing the Brockdale Bridge cleanly in half, attempting to place the Imperius Curse on a member of the muggle Parliament, and having dementors attacking people left and right. It was all brilliant! Well at least that was the sentiments shared by those who called Wiltshire Mansion their home.
Draco leaned back into his bed a smirk already forming as he read the Daily Prophet. He was enjoying this a bit too much and the fact that he was now part of this was sending chills of delight down his spine. It was time to pay back all those muggles who forced them to hide, and the mud-bloods who acted like they actually belonged with them. He hated the lot of them, but no one more strongly than Harry Potter. It was a shame that the Dark Lord wanted to finish Potter off himself. Draco would have loved to have the honor of watching Potter's life flash out of him. It was one of his most cherished dreams.
But he did as he was told and he was told that he would be killed if he even tried to murder Potter this year even if he somehow managed to pull off the stunt the Dark Lord asked him to do. Or rather what the Dark Lord commanded him to do. The Dark Lord never asked anyone to do things, it was demanded and expected to be done as he wanted it to be.
Surprisingly Draco didn't have a problem with that. It even shocked him when he realized it. He usually didn't let his own mother boss him around though he relaxed that rule for his father simply because his father demanded respect by walking into a room. The Dark Lord was the same way so his own astonishment was explained away quickly in his mind.
Something in the paper finally caught his eye and his smirk melted off his face instantly. He couldn't believe this! How could someone so utterly loathsome be on so many articles? Wasn't it enough that in the past 2 years he's been selected as a Tri-wizard Tournament Champion, he's won said Tournament bringing back a dead body, claimed to have survived a fight with (and he dared to say the name though Draco had a hard time even thinking it) Voldemort, then published interviews in The Quibbler saying that he wasn't a demented liar, and he somehow escaped capture at the Ministry last June?! And now, in blaring letter, read another article about him.
Harry Potter: The Chosen One?
Rumors continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted once more.
"We're not allowed to talk about it, don't ask me anything," said one Obliviator, who refused to give his name as he left the Ministry last night.
Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance centered on the fabled Hall of Prophecy.
Though Ministry spokeswizards have hitherto refused to even confirm the existence of such a place, a growing number of the Wizarding community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were intending to steal a prophecy. Harry Potter, the only person ever to have survived the Killing Curse, and who is also known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question. Some are going as far as to call Potter "the Chosen One," believing that the prophecy names him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Here Draco snorted but continued reading all the same.
The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown, although... (ctd. Page 2, column 5)
Draco did not bother to continue reading. There was no need to, he would only aggravate himself further and ruin his moments of glee. He put down his tea and turned the page finding tons of articles that he had yet to read. But it was late and his eyes were starting to burn from the small words and lack of sleep.
He got up, leaving the tea where he'd set it down knowing that a house elf would clear it away as soon as he left the room, and went up to his room. Draco's bedroom was the size of an upper-class apartment. It had two levels, the lower of the two with a balcony overlooking the fields that stretched out as far as the eye could see, and the other was his social area. All of his books lined the walls of that level and there was a desk and a couple of black leather couches scattered around a radio that was turned off at the moment. The furniture was mostly black save for the desk and the bookshelves which were both metal with glass tops. The walls on the other hand were painted a darkish green. But it didn't matter; his room received enough natural light to still look like a Slytherin fantasy.
Not many people in the whole school could boast of having a room like this, Draco thought as he removed his night clothes from where they were folded in his walk-in closet and opened another door leading to his own personal bathroom on the bottom level. This was the benefit of having a father so rich that there was no one else who could match him. Not even that old muggle man, what was his name again? Oh yeah, Donald Trump. Not even Donald Trump could top this.
Draco chose the faster method of cleansing himself; the shower. Five minutes later he stepped out of the shower and threw on his pj's then turned to the sink and brushed his teeth. With his nightly ritual complete Draco jumped into his bed that was not an overstatement either because Draco's bed was deep and fluffy so much so that every night of his vacations he felt like he was in heaven, and sank into a deep sleep.
His dreams were mostly filled with his imagined glory. The glory that the Dark Lord would bestow upon him after the mission was complete.
And he imagined a world where Potter no longer existed and muggles were slaves with mud-bloods and half-bloods doing odd jobs for the pure-bloods. A world that would be completely and utterly perfect.
Maybe it would be a global thing, where the pure-bloods of the world will ban together to impose their rule over the rest of the world.
Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father wouldn't be in Azkaban of course. And the Dark Lord would truly be a lord, over the whole world. Other pure-bloods will answer to him and he would be the sole ruler with his cabinet to help maintain order in his international kingdom.
That was perfection for you; even though everyone was afraid of the Dark Lord. But he wouldn't be alive for that long would he? Now he had to be well over his 70's so he had very little...
Whoa! Where did that come from? Draco stopped himself and snapped up in his bed. Those were treacherous thoughts. He could be killed for that.
Just then the front door of the mansion opened. Draco heard it as clearly as if he'd been standing next to it being that he had wonderful hearing and the whole place was so silent that a pin drop could be heard falling at the other side of the mansion.
In the same manner that he'd heard the door open, he heard two voices coming down the hallway, the door snapping shut magically.
"I cannot believe you just did that Cissy," one of the voices exclaimed.
Draco's mother responded her voice sounding lighter and more relaxed then it had in weeks. "I had to. It was the only way."
"Are you going to tell him?" the other inquired following Narcissa Malfoy into the dining room that Draco was using a mere two hours before. The tea and newspaper was gone.
"Bella! That would be ridiculous!" She said in surprise.
Bellatrix huffed and left Narcissa by herself. Draco back in his room lay back down and closed his eyes. But before he could fall asleep again his mother called to him from nearby. "Draco! Honey, are you up?"
"Yes Mother!" Draco answered not bothering to hide his annoyance.
"Sorry to bother you but I just thought you'd like to know that we're going to Diagon Alley for your school supplies seeing as how you've already gotten your supply list for this year." She rambled heedless to the fact that Draco was seething upstairs.
"You could have waited to tell me this tomorrow!" He turned away ignoring his mother's response completely. But on second thought it sounded pretty good. The faster he sorted everything out, the faster his plan could be executed...