The hottest day of the year was beginning to end, sending a restless silence over the huge manor that inhabited the extremely large amount of land in front of the teenager. The lawns were pristine; as green as a traffic light, the grass stood up unnaturally straight and every blade was exactly the same height as the next. No animals lurked in front of this house, for peril would meet those who dared. Rumours snuck around the village of the secrets inside this ancient residence, the dark artefacts and the dark people living inside it.

The boys slick blonde hair gleamed in the sunset, making it appear almost white. His posture was slack, but his clothes were not; a crisp black suit with shoes that shone abnormally decorated his elegant frame, but alas his posture was hunched and drawn.

He stood still, his face hidden by the shadows, and withdrew his hands from his pockets. From within the pockets the boy pulled out a slender stick of hawthorn, and twiddled it between his pale fingers. He took a deep breath and began to walk towards the 20 foot wrought iron gates that surrounded the manor; they melted at his touch and he walked straight through them, down the pebble path encircled by thick green hedges.

The pebbles led him to the manor and to a huge wooden door with a crest on it. When the boy put his hand on the crest, the doorknob too melted, and he pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

The floors were ornate and black- adding to the ghostly atmosphere in the room. The entrance hall to the Malfoy Manor was dimly lit, dusty and had many portraits of lost ancestors. The many cabinets littering the walls had blacked out windows, leaving visitors wondering what objects lurked inside. Vases had been placed along many cabinets but the flowers inside them had long died- it looked as if no-one had bothered to tidy for a long time. Lots of doors were fitted along the walls and each looked as if they lead to mysterious and dangerous places.

The boy walked smartly to the heavy doors to his right and pushed them open, only to be greeted by a suffocating hug.

'Draco, where have you been?' The woman screeched, engulfing her son and showering him in kisses. She was a petite woman, but strongly built, with black and white streaked hair.

'Mother!' Draco pushed his mother aside and brushed a stray hair from his suit. 'Please, I like my own personal space every once in a while.'

'I'm sorry darling,' Narcissa Malfoy stepped gingerly to the low armchairs by the crackling fire, and sank into one wearily. 'I was just worried-'

'Well you don't have to be!' Draco snarled, whirling around and, ignoring his mother's pleas, stormed out of the sitting room.

He raged up the sweeping staircase and along the long carpeted corridor to his room. His door opened with a bang before he even got there, and shut when he entered. Still clutching the stick of wood, red sparks were being spat from the tip in anger. Draco remembered the first day he got his wand; the first day he felt like a true wizard.

On his eleventh birthday, Draco and his mother and father had travelled to the little wizarding village called Diagon Alley. This was one of the only villages in Britain where wizards could roam freely without fear of being spotted by Muggles. They cut through the crowd like a knife in soft butter and made their way to the wand shop, Ollivanders. The shop was full to the brim with boxes, stacked on top of each other in a multitude of shelves. A small, watery eyed little man stepped through one of the musty aisles towards the Malfoys and gave a little bow. He was dressed quite scruffily, and sported many holes in his shoes. For some reason, Draco felt very smartly dressed compared to the man that was bowed before him.

'Ah, the Malfoys. Always a pleasure, of course, always. What can I do for you Lucius?'

Draco's father stepped into the light.

'It is my son, Draco's birthday today. I ought to ensure that he gets the best wand for when he starts school at Hogwarts in September, and decided that my wand has done me well for all these years, and so my son should purchase his wand too from the very same shop as I.'

'Very well' breathed Ollivander. 'I shall see to it.'

He stepped down another musty aisle and retrieved a long, thin box, very much like the others. Ollivander returned and laid the box on his cluttered desk, and very carefully opened it. Inside sat a wand, of around ten inches in length.

'Hawthorn. Ten inches, slightly flexible, a single hair from a male unicorn inside.' Ollivander smiled. 'Well, give it a wave!'

Draco nervously picked up the wand. Instantly, warmth spread through his fingers and gold sparks shot from the end. He looked up at his mother and father, who smiled reassuringly, and twiddled it in his hands. He had never felt so sure that something fitted him, that something was so right for him.

Ollivander laughed quietly, and said 'I remember every purchase from this shop Mr Malfoy, every one. And every single one makes me smile; to see the look on those young wizards faces is a picture that brings joy to many people.'

'Yes well, as touching as that story is Mr Ollivander, we must hurry along.' Lucius placed seven gold galleons onto the desk, and turned to leave. Draco followed his father and mother out of the shop and onto the pavement. He felt the warmth of his wand in his hand, and felt as if he could do anything in the world.