Prologue: Azkaban
It was the end of fifth year; the Dark Lord had risen. It was planned that Lucius Malfoy give the Dark Mark to me, his only son Draco Malfoy, that summer. But, for once, the Malfoy's plans went askew.
Famous Harry Potter and his fan club had escaped the Dark Lord and his group of faithful Death Eaters, again. Who else, but Dumbledore and his loyal few would come to the rescue, to grow such a tangle among those loyal to the Dark Lord. Somehow; the usually slippery Lucius Malfoy failed to escape. And now, he was in Azkaban.
Azkaban. No Malfoy had ever stepped foot in Azkaban.
Yet, here I was, walking into the dreaded fortress. My mother, Narcissa Black, was walking exactly two steps behind me-- as we were trained. It seemed our visit was simply that, but hidden in my robes were a generous amount to get my father out.
To no avail. Dementors were truly stubborn; all they seemed to care about was their own bloody happiness. Not that I, Draco Malfoy, cared, of course.
But Narcissa did. Next, we went to the Ministry of Magic, a vaguely more familiar place. Chin high, shoulders back, I strode into the crowded room of wizards. Most parted before me, and I enjoyed the sense of power. Half of them disgraced the name of a wizard, and mostly of all, Weasley.
And just who were we to meet? None other that Senior Weasley himself.
'Malfoy, funny meeting you here. I don't think that your father works here anymore. If you'd like to find him, the most appropriate place would be Azkaban.'
'As much as my mother and I would like to honor you with our presence, Weasley,' I recited without blinking an eye, 'We really find ourselves quite busy at the moment. Schedule with our house elf,' I finished, brushing off my perfectly straight silk gray robes [as though they dirtied with his presence] without really touching them, just as all Malfoy's do.
Amusingly, Weasley's face turned red as quickly as his son's. 'You'll be just like him,' Weasley whispered, his finger quivering in front of my face. He didn't need to tell me that 'him' meant my father. 'Even Dumbledore can't turn you right.'
My eyebrows rose and I smirked slightly as I moved straight ahead. My mother walked behind me, silent. What the Weasel didn't know was that he hit more of a nerve than even his puny mind contemplated.
I am NOT my father.
For some reason, all wizards assume that I am to be the exact replica of my father. A Malfoy follows a Malfoy. The name should never die out or all is lost. That doesn't mean loss by death, but loss of pride. And guess what wizards, I felt like shouting,—but ofcourse, I wouldn't shout, I am a Malfoy-- he was caught, I wasn't and here I am holding the name together. I am his better not vice versa as he always seems to display.
We arrived at the Detectors of Dark Wizards office, and entered without knocking. Why should we?
I strode to the front desk, 'We are here on account of the arrest of Lucius Malfoy,' I said as the accountant looked up. His glasses were slightly leaning down his nose and he stopped scribbling on his parchment which fell all the way off the desk.
'Malfoy,' he mumbled, 'What about him?'
'We feel that the court did not give him a proper hearing, and we would like that to be arranged to plead his innocence.' The words rolled off my tongue magnificently like an extravagant poem.
'Albus Dumbledore,' the man spoke the words as though they protected him like a shield, 'has already proven the fact that he and many others are Death Eaters, when they were caught in the ministry.'
Narcissa spoke up, tossing her blonde hair, 'He was only in the Ministry of Magic doing his job as all should; if he was at the scene, why was it assumed that he was on the Dark Lord's side?' she spoke smoothly, her words polite but her voice carried a sneer.
'He has been proven a Death Eater, and will stay in Azkaban, where all Death Eaters belong,' the man said clearly as if the conversation was finished.
As if, but I didn't want to stay with the annoying prat for another second, or I just might have hexed him.
No one could cage a Malfoy for long, after all, we don't like touching dirt, and the cells of Azkaban have dirt floors.
And wasn't I right. A Malfoy is always right.
Later that summer all the Death Eaters were gone from Azkaban, just like that. Once morning, poof, nothing was left. Not even the Dementors.
Needless to say, those annoying Gryffindork aurors paid a visit to the Malfoy Mansion to check if my father was there. As if...
The solemn bell rang, and I waited a good two minutes before answering the door. I had told the house elf not to answer.
About ten wizards were standing before the door. Smirking, I asked, 'Yes?'
A larger black wizard took out a piece of parchment and said, 'We have the authority to search the Malfoy Mansion for Senior Malfoy, who recently escaped Azkaban.'
'So?' I said, always better to play dumb.
'Can you step aside?' the man said in a rather blunt tone.
'No other than pure bloods are allowed to enter this Mansion,' I said with a smirk, 'Even our house elf is pure blood. So those of you who are pure blood have the honor to step forward.'
Four of the men stepped forward, not including the black man. He seemed rather grumpy that he wasn't allowed in, but he knew better than to say anything to a Malfoy.
Wands out, the men entered my house. I had to hold myself from laughing at the look on their faces. Pure caution and terror, somehow like the real Professor Moody at the end of fourth year.
They went through the dining room, I cautioned them not to step on the rug from Iraq. 'It's worth more than ten years of your job,' I told them, as they looked wide eyed at it. They walked carefully past the oak dining table and green and gold furniture. Into the living room, they stared at the Snake carvings and eloquently designed furniture from Stalingrad. 'This isn't a museum,' I spat at them, as they entered our third living room.
If truth be told, I loved to have people gape over my things... but, Malfoy's weren't one to brag... not out loud, at least.
'We're looking,' one said, as the others started to climb the spiraling staircase--studded with blood red rubies and emeralds, of course--to the second floor. After the search of the other living rooms, another dining room, two bathrooms, and the kitchen-- which I refused to enter, since the House Elf was in that room-- we got ready to climb to the third floor. I called it the living floor, since all our bedrooms were there.
After the slow brutes got off the stairs, which they had dirtied with the dry mud of their shoes, they met my mother, Narcissa, standing at the head of the stairs.
'Hello, gentlemen,' she said smoothly, looking at them with slightly narrowed eyes and a satisfied smirk.
'Mrs. Malfoy,' one man with light brown hair seemed to have claimed himself to be the leader, 'We have the authority to search for Senior Malfoy, who has recently escaped...'
'Azkaban,' she said, holding the 'z' a little longer, to give off an intimidating snake sensation.
'Yes,' the man said, a bit of fright in his voice. I inwardly laughed, who knew holding a letter could intimidate an auror? Bravo, Narcissa.
'Well,' said Narcissa, 'What are you waiting for?' she shook her blonde hair slightly. 'I promise you'll still come out alive,' she laughed lightly and looked my way. I knew she wanted me to laugh as well, to give off a double effect, as though we knew something, so I laughed.
The four men looked at each other and started to search. After two living rooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen—which I use, and am going to have to get cleaned—the men went down a twisted hallway to my wing, the east wing.
Ok, so I liked the sun rise. That doesn't make me weak, does it? I just like to see a beginning, a new beginning.
They passed the many portraits of my grandfathers, whom silently watched them, each had his blonde hair tied neatly and gray eyes calculating. Finally, they reached my room. They carefully touched my doorknob—have to get that cleaned, too—and entered my personal room. As if my father would actually hide in my room. What a ludicrous matter.
I heard a few of them gasp. What? I thought, it's just a 16 meter by 12 meter room. But, then again, Salazar Slytherin used to have some of the things I have. Like the king's sized bed, or maybe it was the huge wardrobe which took up half the wall of a side of my room. Or could it be the amazing—if I do say so myself—display of live snakes right underneath their feet? But, what I thought was the greatest in my room was my window. The glass had silver designs of dragons and snakes in it. The window frame was made of two silver snakes with emerald eyes. Then there was my balcony, which overlooked our garden and lake. I could see our shy gardener hiding behind the bushes. What a freak, I thought.
Finally, the aurors found themselves back at the door again. Of course they had found nothing. With one last glance, all ten walked away, then apparated into thin air.
What the sad aurors didn't know, was that my father wasn't going to visit my mother and me. We were going to visit him.
A simple note drifted down from the air onto my balcony, a few numbers and a word. 1:30 Knockturn
I walked straight to my parent's room. I showed Narcissa the note and she nodded. We were going to meet my father tonight.
Wearing the dirtiest cloaks we could find, Narcissa and I left entered the fire place. Check rubies glittering around us, I let go of the light floo powder and quietly said, 'Diagon Alley.'
Always good to take a detour, in case anyone was following us or watching the house. We didn't want to get caught, not tonight.
Inside the fireplace of the inn, I made sure the hood of my cloak properly covered my face and strode forward. I could hear the even footsteps of Narcissa behind me, as I turned the corner towards the back of the inn where they stored the garbage.
Holding my breath as I walked nearer—you have no idea what is in those rubbish bins—to block the dreadful smell, I quickly stripped of my cloak. Good, I thought, now I look like I'm going to a formal party. I was wearing a black dress robe and Narcissa was dressed most simply as a waitress with a very low hat. No one would ask what she'd be doing in the middle of the night. I nodded to her and we split up and went our different ways.
Now, I thought, just to find another something to wear. Walking past a few gibbering goblins, I entered a store for cloaks. Without looking at the owner of the store, I grabbed a cloak that looked seemingly my size... and my class, of course. In the darkest corner of the store, I slipped it on then walked right back out, dropping five galleons on the counter.
Knockturn Alley, I thought as I stood with my back to a wall, looking onto the dark alleyway. A minute later, I saw a figure ambling towards me, also wearing a cloak. Narcissa, about time, I thought and strolled in front of her into the alley. Slowly, I looked at everyone, careful with every step. Most people were wearing cloaks, most people here supported the Dark Lord, even if they were too cowardly to act or not.
Entering a crowded bar, the most crowded one I could find, my gaze rested upon a lean figure. I stood before him, the candlelight reflected steel gray eyes.
He was my father.
A dark wand shot out, held by a white hand. It rested underneath my chin, pushed it up. I felt the candlelight enlightening my eyes.
I was his son.
He looked at Narcissa, she nodded. Quickly, he pulled us close. Was he going to take me to the Dark Lord? Was I ready? Would I get caught?
'Listen,' his voice was hoarse, 'Draco, you can't get the mark yet, the old fool,' I knew he meant Dumbledore, 'will notice. I have given the Dark Lord my reasons.' Lucius looked at my mother, 'I can't come home,' Narcissa nodded, 'I must help the Dark Lord, I know you will understand.' Lucius backed away and without looking both ways strolled to the door.
But, at the door, he stopped. Slowly, he turned around and looked at me. No, not me, Narcissa. I saw her look up as well; I knew if I could see her face, I would see sadness in her eyes. Lucius turned back again, looking at the area outside the bar. Just when I thought he would leave, I saw his hand grip the side of the door. Lucius turned around and walked back towards us; he brought Narcissa close, hesitated, then kissed her cheek.
Finally, he spun on his heal and left.