The boy lay, staring at the ceiling above his bed. He was too restless to
stay still, but in too much pain to move. Violent, angry thoughts consumed
him as he lay there, aching from head to foot, wanting nothing more than to
scream at the top of his voice and leap of out the window and break on the
patio, 3 floors below. But he couldn't. Firstly, he knew his aching body
would not allow him to reach the window, never mind climb on to the sill in
order to jump out, and secondly, his father was sure to hear him move. If
he did, he would most likely come upstairs and beat his son, once again, in
to unconsciousness. "Only a few more hours," he thought to himself
desperately, "then you're out of here." And with that blissful thought, he
fell into an uncomfortable, nightmare-ridden sleep.
The boy who lay peacefully there, was called Draco Malfoy. The place in which he rested was his bedroom, in the Malfoy manor. It was the last night of the summer holidays and tomorrow he would be returning to Hogwarts for his sixth year. He couldn't wait. The summer holidays were the worst part of the year for him, and every year he dreaded returning him, and anticipated returning to school. There was a simple reason for his hatred of his "home"; his father. Lucius Malfoy was a Deatheater, worshipped Lord Voldemort and wanted nothing more than to have his son follow in his footsteps.
This holiday had been particularly bad for Draco for several reasons. First of all, Harry Potter had, once again, eluded the clutches of Voldemort and his Deatheaters. This greatly angered Voldemort, and angered Lucius even more. After being caught in the Department of Mysteries at the ministry of magic, it seemed that Lucius Malfoy would, finally, pay for the crimes he had committed. But, once again, he managed to convince Cornelius Fudge that he had not acted of his own free will, but had been under the imperious curse. Voldemort was furious that Lucius had denounced him for the second time, but was pacified when Lucius explained to him that he would be much more useful when he wasn't locked in a cell inside an impregnable fortress in the middle of the ocean. Despite this, Lucius was still very angry at the fact that Harry Potter had, once again, escaped and, in the process made the revealed the Dark Lord to the wizarding society and landed some of Voldemort's most loyal Deatheaters, such as the Lestranges', in Azkaban, once again. Lucius, it seemed, needed to vent his anger, and his chosen stress reliever just so happened to be Draco.
Therefore, for no real reason, Draco had received harsh punishments for the most minor of misdemeanours, almost every day over the holiday. Another thing that had angered Lucius was Draco's OWL results. They had arrived on the 31st of July, just as they were eating breakfast. Draco was not expecting any miracles, he knew he hadn't done nearly enough work for his OWL's and, therefore, wasn't expecting the most fantastic grades. However, from his father's reaction to the letter (which he had read, without letting Draco see it), the boy assumed that he had received T's in all of his subjects. Draco did not awake for 24 hours after his father had read the letter. Only then did he find out that he had received the punishment for an O in DADA, an E in potions, transfiguration and charms, an A in arithmancy and care of magical creatures and a P in herbology and history of magic. Draco himself was quite proud of these grades, especially the O in DADA, as he had worked very hard for that. His father, however, was not so pleased, and he made that quite clear to Draco.
The morning of the return to Hogwarts finally arrived. Draco awoke at 6:30am and hauled himself slowly out of bed. He reached into his bedside draw and drank the last of his concealing potion, to hide the cuts, bruises and scars that he had acquired, some recent, some ancient. His body ached with every tiny movement as he wandered around his room, picking up odd items he had forgotten to pack and shoving them haphazardly into his trunk. By 8 o'clock he was fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, had his trunk packed, his wounds concealed and was making his way down stairs for breakfast. As he entered the breakfast room, he saw his father sitting at the table, biting toast, sipping coffee and reading the Daily Prophet with a slight frown on his face. "Good morning father," said Draco, cautiously. His father did not answer until Draco had seated himself opposite and taken a slice of toast from the rack. "Are you packed yet?" he asked, still staring at the paper in front of him. "Yes, father," replied Draco, "when are we leaving?"
"Half past ten, you had better be ready by then, I have a meeting at 11 with the minister," he said, casually.
"Yes, sir," Draco said.
The rest of breakfast was spent in silence, the two Malfoy's eating toast and sipping coffee, the older reading the paper, the younger trying to make as little noise as possible.
After breakfast, Draco hauled himself painfully back up to his room to collect his trunk. After dragging it out of his room and down a short flight of steps, he was in almost unbearable agony. He stood his trunk at the top of the stairs and pushed it – he could not face hauling all the way down. It began to bounce down the stairs and Draco followed slowly behind it. He was about half way down the stairs when the trunk reached the bottom, stopped abruptly and flipped over, landing on the floor with a huge crash. His father emerged from a door to the left of the hall just as Draco stepped off the last step. He looked a the trunk of the floor, "What the hell did you do that for?" he hissed, "You could have broken it, you lazy child." He hit Draco hard with the back of his hand and sent him flying into the staircase. With that, he muttered a spell that caused the trunk to right itself and fly back to the top of the stairs, "Carry it!" he whispered, vehemently, and then turned back into the room he came out of, leaving Draco lying against the steps, his hand against his injured cheek. The boy stood up, muttering to himself and began the harrowing task of climbing back up the stairs and carrying his trunk down. By the time 10:30 arrived Draco was standing the hall way, cloak on over his jeans and t- shirt, trunk by his feet, waiting for his father to take him to the station. Lucius emerged into the hall and grabbed his son roughly by the arm,
"Are you ready, boy?" he asked.
"Yes, father," Draco replied, and with that the two disappeared from the hall.
They reappeared almost instantly on the platform 9 ¾ in front a scarlet steam engine, billowing smoke. There were very few students there yet, and most were standing waiting for their friends to arrive before they got on the train. Draco turned to say goodbye to his father, as he knew he would not hang around to watch the train leave.
"Behave yourself this term, Draco," ordered Lucius.
"Yes, sir," was the reply
"And do not disappoint me," he continued.
"No, sir," he answered.
"Goodbye, then" Lucius finished.
"Goodbye, sir," Draco replied, as his father disappeared once again.
Draco began to heave his trunk to the door of the nearest carriage. With great difficulty, due to his wounds, not lack of strength, he lifted his trunk onto the train, into a compartment and stowed it in the luggage rack. He sat himself down on one of the seats and watched out of the window as more and more students arrived on the platform, said their goodbyes, and boarded the train. At about ten to eleven, he was joined by Crabbe and Goyle. He rolled his eyes at them as they entered a conversation about the feast that evening. When he decided he could stand their mindless ramblings no longer, he stood up slowly and went to find an empty compartment. He walked along the corridor until he found a compartment with no sound issuing from it. He slid the door open, only to find that it wasn't empty at all; Hermione Granger sat in the corner staring out of the window. She looked around as she heard the door open and Draco muttered, "Sorry, I didn't think there was anyone in here," and left. She was bemused; she had expected at least one derogatory comment from him. Draco wandered on until he found a compartment with two first years in it; he walked in, then, spotting them, turned to walk out again. They looked at him fearfully, then muttered, "It's ok, we were just leaving," and hurried past him, throwing nervous glances over their shoulders. Draco shrugged then sat down by the window. The rest of the train journey passed in a haze of pain, rain and annoying appearances from Crabbe and Goyle for a brief time.
The train pulled into Hogsmeade later that evening and Draco made to disembark. Remembering his prefect duties as he stepped off the train, he called the younger students over to the carriages. By the time he had made sure everyone else was in a carriage, there were no empty ones left, the convoy had started to move, and so he hopped quickly into the last one. As he stepped through the door, he realised that the carriage contained no less than six of his "enemies"; Potter, Weasley, Ginny, Loony Lovegood and Longbottom. He stood on the threshold for a moment, before taking the last seat. A moment before the carriage began to move, Hermione, breathless, turned up in the carriage. "Oh," she said, seeing it was full, looked around confusedly. To everyone's complete surprise, Draco got to his feet and pointed to the now empty seat. Hermione sat down as the carriage started to move and Draco swayed ominously by the door. "Thanks," she muttered. Draco simply nodded. They arrived at the castle and Draco stepped out first and made his solitary way up the castle steps. He really did not want to go to the feast; he was aching all over and didn't think he could stand several hours in the company of Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. But he had no choice. He did not know where the sixth year prefect's dormitory was. So, feeling dismayed, he turned and walked into the great hall. He took a seat as far away from the three people he was trying to avoid as possible, and sat down next to Blaise Zabini. He had always got on well with Blaise, but had been forbidden to be friends with him, as his family did not support Lord Voldemort. He was a pureblood, but his family were very much against the "purification of the wizarding race", as his father put it, or "brutally torturing and killing all muggles, muggleborns, half blood and blood traitors", as everyone else put it. Blaise smiled as he sat down and then turned to watch as Professor McGonnagal carried the sorting hat into the hall, followed the first year. Draco blanked out as the sorting took place, it didn't interest him in the slightest as he put his best efforts into ignoring the entire first year. His house cheered several times over the next 20 minutes, and then, finally, the sorting hat was taken away and Dumbledore stood up to speak. Draco caught very little of his speech. He heard certain words and phrases, such as "a testing year for all" and "unity is the key to triumph".
Draco heard a applause and then, almost instantaneously the plates before him filled with delicious looking food. Suddenly realising how famished he was, he pulled several dishes towards him, piled his plate high and began to eat. He spoke casually to Blaise during the meal and eventually, when everyone was stuffed full of scrumptious food, they were dismissed. Draco and the other Slytherin prefects led the first years to their dormitories and then returned to the great hall to be directed towards their own. Professor McGonagall took the fifth year prefects to their dormitory, whilst Dumbledore took the sixth years to theirs. Their climbed stairs and walked along corridors for several minutes before they arrived in a rarely- used part of the castle, close to the west tower. A huge canvas hung on the wall at the end of the corridor and, as they arrived, a young-looking wizard with deep blue robes and a feather in his hat stepped into the frame. "Good evening Professor," he said, jovially, "Prefects, I presume?" he said, eyeing the crowd behind Dumbledore.
"Yes, Fabian, prefects, eager to uphold the high standards and enforce the rules of Hogwarts," replied Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye, "the new password is 'phoenix', good night, all."
There was a general murmur of "Goodnight, Professor," from the students and a cordial "Farewell!" from Fabian in the frame, as his portrait sung back to admit the students. The common room before them was magnificent. At one side there was a huge book shelf, filled with volumes ranging in size and content. To the right of the bookcase was a large open fire, surrounded by comfortable-looking arm chairs and a soft furry rug before it. To the left of the room was a long table with chairs around it and in front of the book case were two smaller tables with two chairs each. At the back of the room were two doors, one marked "boys" and the other "girls" the students divided here and made their way up separate, spiralling staircase. They turned off as they each found their own private rooms, with they names on a plaque on the door. Draco's was at the very top of the boys staircase. He and Harry made their way all the way up and found their rooms to be opposite each other. They said nothing to each other as they parted and entered their rooms. Draco looked around and would have been impressed, had he not been so tired. He instantly collapsed onto his green four-poster bed and fell asleep within seconds in the plush sheets, still wearing his school robes.
The boy who lay peacefully there, was called Draco Malfoy. The place in which he rested was his bedroom, in the Malfoy manor. It was the last night of the summer holidays and tomorrow he would be returning to Hogwarts for his sixth year. He couldn't wait. The summer holidays were the worst part of the year for him, and every year he dreaded returning him, and anticipated returning to school. There was a simple reason for his hatred of his "home"; his father. Lucius Malfoy was a Deatheater, worshipped Lord Voldemort and wanted nothing more than to have his son follow in his footsteps.
This holiday had been particularly bad for Draco for several reasons. First of all, Harry Potter had, once again, eluded the clutches of Voldemort and his Deatheaters. This greatly angered Voldemort, and angered Lucius even more. After being caught in the Department of Mysteries at the ministry of magic, it seemed that Lucius Malfoy would, finally, pay for the crimes he had committed. But, once again, he managed to convince Cornelius Fudge that he had not acted of his own free will, but had been under the imperious curse. Voldemort was furious that Lucius had denounced him for the second time, but was pacified when Lucius explained to him that he would be much more useful when he wasn't locked in a cell inside an impregnable fortress in the middle of the ocean. Despite this, Lucius was still very angry at the fact that Harry Potter had, once again, escaped and, in the process made the revealed the Dark Lord to the wizarding society and landed some of Voldemort's most loyal Deatheaters, such as the Lestranges', in Azkaban, once again. Lucius, it seemed, needed to vent his anger, and his chosen stress reliever just so happened to be Draco.
Therefore, for no real reason, Draco had received harsh punishments for the most minor of misdemeanours, almost every day over the holiday. Another thing that had angered Lucius was Draco's OWL results. They had arrived on the 31st of July, just as they were eating breakfast. Draco was not expecting any miracles, he knew he hadn't done nearly enough work for his OWL's and, therefore, wasn't expecting the most fantastic grades. However, from his father's reaction to the letter (which he had read, without letting Draco see it), the boy assumed that he had received T's in all of his subjects. Draco did not awake for 24 hours after his father had read the letter. Only then did he find out that he had received the punishment for an O in DADA, an E in potions, transfiguration and charms, an A in arithmancy and care of magical creatures and a P in herbology and history of magic. Draco himself was quite proud of these grades, especially the O in DADA, as he had worked very hard for that. His father, however, was not so pleased, and he made that quite clear to Draco.
The morning of the return to Hogwarts finally arrived. Draco awoke at 6:30am and hauled himself slowly out of bed. He reached into his bedside draw and drank the last of his concealing potion, to hide the cuts, bruises and scars that he had acquired, some recent, some ancient. His body ached with every tiny movement as he wandered around his room, picking up odd items he had forgotten to pack and shoving them haphazardly into his trunk. By 8 o'clock he was fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, had his trunk packed, his wounds concealed and was making his way down stairs for breakfast. As he entered the breakfast room, he saw his father sitting at the table, biting toast, sipping coffee and reading the Daily Prophet with a slight frown on his face. "Good morning father," said Draco, cautiously. His father did not answer until Draco had seated himself opposite and taken a slice of toast from the rack. "Are you packed yet?" he asked, still staring at the paper in front of him. "Yes, father," replied Draco, "when are we leaving?"
"Half past ten, you had better be ready by then, I have a meeting at 11 with the minister," he said, casually.
"Yes, sir," Draco said.
The rest of breakfast was spent in silence, the two Malfoy's eating toast and sipping coffee, the older reading the paper, the younger trying to make as little noise as possible.
After breakfast, Draco hauled himself painfully back up to his room to collect his trunk. After dragging it out of his room and down a short flight of steps, he was in almost unbearable agony. He stood his trunk at the top of the stairs and pushed it – he could not face hauling all the way down. It began to bounce down the stairs and Draco followed slowly behind it. He was about half way down the stairs when the trunk reached the bottom, stopped abruptly and flipped over, landing on the floor with a huge crash. His father emerged from a door to the left of the hall just as Draco stepped off the last step. He looked a the trunk of the floor, "What the hell did you do that for?" he hissed, "You could have broken it, you lazy child." He hit Draco hard with the back of his hand and sent him flying into the staircase. With that, he muttered a spell that caused the trunk to right itself and fly back to the top of the stairs, "Carry it!" he whispered, vehemently, and then turned back into the room he came out of, leaving Draco lying against the steps, his hand against his injured cheek. The boy stood up, muttering to himself and began the harrowing task of climbing back up the stairs and carrying his trunk down. By the time 10:30 arrived Draco was standing the hall way, cloak on over his jeans and t- shirt, trunk by his feet, waiting for his father to take him to the station. Lucius emerged into the hall and grabbed his son roughly by the arm,
"Are you ready, boy?" he asked.
"Yes, father," Draco replied, and with that the two disappeared from the hall.
They reappeared almost instantly on the platform 9 ¾ in front a scarlet steam engine, billowing smoke. There were very few students there yet, and most were standing waiting for their friends to arrive before they got on the train. Draco turned to say goodbye to his father, as he knew he would not hang around to watch the train leave.
"Behave yourself this term, Draco," ordered Lucius.
"Yes, sir," was the reply
"And do not disappoint me," he continued.
"No, sir," he answered.
"Goodbye, then" Lucius finished.
"Goodbye, sir," Draco replied, as his father disappeared once again.
Draco began to heave his trunk to the door of the nearest carriage. With great difficulty, due to his wounds, not lack of strength, he lifted his trunk onto the train, into a compartment and stowed it in the luggage rack. He sat himself down on one of the seats and watched out of the window as more and more students arrived on the platform, said their goodbyes, and boarded the train. At about ten to eleven, he was joined by Crabbe and Goyle. He rolled his eyes at them as they entered a conversation about the feast that evening. When he decided he could stand their mindless ramblings no longer, he stood up slowly and went to find an empty compartment. He walked along the corridor until he found a compartment with no sound issuing from it. He slid the door open, only to find that it wasn't empty at all; Hermione Granger sat in the corner staring out of the window. She looked around as she heard the door open and Draco muttered, "Sorry, I didn't think there was anyone in here," and left. She was bemused; she had expected at least one derogatory comment from him. Draco wandered on until he found a compartment with two first years in it; he walked in, then, spotting them, turned to walk out again. They looked at him fearfully, then muttered, "It's ok, we were just leaving," and hurried past him, throwing nervous glances over their shoulders. Draco shrugged then sat down by the window. The rest of the train journey passed in a haze of pain, rain and annoying appearances from Crabbe and Goyle for a brief time.
The train pulled into Hogsmeade later that evening and Draco made to disembark. Remembering his prefect duties as he stepped off the train, he called the younger students over to the carriages. By the time he had made sure everyone else was in a carriage, there were no empty ones left, the convoy had started to move, and so he hopped quickly into the last one. As he stepped through the door, he realised that the carriage contained no less than six of his "enemies"; Potter, Weasley, Ginny, Loony Lovegood and Longbottom. He stood on the threshold for a moment, before taking the last seat. A moment before the carriage began to move, Hermione, breathless, turned up in the carriage. "Oh," she said, seeing it was full, looked around confusedly. To everyone's complete surprise, Draco got to his feet and pointed to the now empty seat. Hermione sat down as the carriage started to move and Draco swayed ominously by the door. "Thanks," she muttered. Draco simply nodded. They arrived at the castle and Draco stepped out first and made his solitary way up the castle steps. He really did not want to go to the feast; he was aching all over and didn't think he could stand several hours in the company of Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. But he had no choice. He did not know where the sixth year prefect's dormitory was. So, feeling dismayed, he turned and walked into the great hall. He took a seat as far away from the three people he was trying to avoid as possible, and sat down next to Blaise Zabini. He had always got on well with Blaise, but had been forbidden to be friends with him, as his family did not support Lord Voldemort. He was a pureblood, but his family were very much against the "purification of the wizarding race", as his father put it, or "brutally torturing and killing all muggles, muggleborns, half blood and blood traitors", as everyone else put it. Blaise smiled as he sat down and then turned to watch as Professor McGonnagal carried the sorting hat into the hall, followed the first year. Draco blanked out as the sorting took place, it didn't interest him in the slightest as he put his best efforts into ignoring the entire first year. His house cheered several times over the next 20 minutes, and then, finally, the sorting hat was taken away and Dumbledore stood up to speak. Draco caught very little of his speech. He heard certain words and phrases, such as "a testing year for all" and "unity is the key to triumph".
Draco heard a applause and then, almost instantaneously the plates before him filled with delicious looking food. Suddenly realising how famished he was, he pulled several dishes towards him, piled his plate high and began to eat. He spoke casually to Blaise during the meal and eventually, when everyone was stuffed full of scrumptious food, they were dismissed. Draco and the other Slytherin prefects led the first years to their dormitories and then returned to the great hall to be directed towards their own. Professor McGonagall took the fifth year prefects to their dormitory, whilst Dumbledore took the sixth years to theirs. Their climbed stairs and walked along corridors for several minutes before they arrived in a rarely- used part of the castle, close to the west tower. A huge canvas hung on the wall at the end of the corridor and, as they arrived, a young-looking wizard with deep blue robes and a feather in his hat stepped into the frame. "Good evening Professor," he said, jovially, "Prefects, I presume?" he said, eyeing the crowd behind Dumbledore.
"Yes, Fabian, prefects, eager to uphold the high standards and enforce the rules of Hogwarts," replied Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye, "the new password is 'phoenix', good night, all."
There was a general murmur of "Goodnight, Professor," from the students and a cordial "Farewell!" from Fabian in the frame, as his portrait sung back to admit the students. The common room before them was magnificent. At one side there was a huge book shelf, filled with volumes ranging in size and content. To the right of the bookcase was a large open fire, surrounded by comfortable-looking arm chairs and a soft furry rug before it. To the left of the room was a long table with chairs around it and in front of the book case were two smaller tables with two chairs each. At the back of the room were two doors, one marked "boys" and the other "girls" the students divided here and made their way up separate, spiralling staircase. They turned off as they each found their own private rooms, with they names on a plaque on the door. Draco's was at the very top of the boys staircase. He and Harry made their way all the way up and found their rooms to be opposite each other. They said nothing to each other as they parted and entered their rooms. Draco looked around and would have been impressed, had he not been so tired. He instantly collapsed onto his green four-poster bed and fell asleep within seconds in the plush sheets, still wearing his school robes.