Author's Notes: Yet another drabble floating around in my head that I just had to write down. Not related to my other HP fic 'Undone'. Quote, "There is only power and those too weak to seek it," is from CoS.
Damned
(A Harry Potter Fic)
He had warned Potter to chose his friends carefully. Nearly five years ago Draco had warned him no good could come from consorting with Weasleys and mudbloods. He had extended his hand in friendship only to have it pushed aside.
Draco knew Potter would die. If he had allied himself with the right people and gotten into the proper circles, he could have been spared the Dark Lord's wrath. Well, perhaps not, but he wouldn't have been so marked for death as he was now.
For years, he had heard the other students talking. "Look, he's a Malfoy, treat him with respect. Look, he's in Slytherin, he'll go dark one day." At one time, those comments would have caused him to smile. Now, he hated the whispers, hated how they judged him without knowing a single thing about him but his name and what House he was in.
He knew what prejudice was. He saw it every day, inflicted it more times than he could count. The other Houses all sneered at him. He deserved their hatred. That he would not deny. He had never done anything to gain their respect and couldn't say he'd ever treated any of them kindly. He didn't want friends. He had Crabbe's brawn and Goyle's muscle. He had Pansy's admiration. He didn't need friends.
Draco knew he was marked. Not by death, like Potter. No, he was marked by the stain of Slytherin.
Dumbledore preached about the wrongness of prejudice. He talked of convergence and the importance of unity. Everyone loved him, but not Draco, not most of the Slytherins. They saw him for what he really was: a hypocrite, a liar, and a cheat. Dumbledore cared more for his precious Gryffindors than he ever cared for the fate of the Slytherins. How he had coddled them while he was content to let the snakes rot in their dungeons!
In Draco's first year, Dumbledore had taken the House Cup away from them and given it to Gryffindor. That was the event that had caused Draco to hate the Headmaster. He remembered being happy that day. Slytherin's colors, silver and green, had decorated the Great Hall. He remembered how proud Professor Snape had been. Draco had snuck a quick look at him up at the High Table gloating to a clearly peeved McGonagall. It was then Dumbledore had taken away the House Cup and awarded it to Potter and his merry band of sidekicks. Everyone had cheered. Everyone but Slytherin.
How could Draco ever respect such a man who showed nothing but adoration for one group of students and such cruelty to another?
But perhaps he was overreacting. It was just a House Cup. It was an award for good behavior, a stupid prize in a ridiculous contest designed to ensure order and obedience from its players.
Pansy had cried when Dumbledore had taken that blasted Cup away. It wasn't just a stupid prize to her.
Teachers shouldn't play favorites, though Draco knew they always did. That didn't bother him. No, what bothered him was the knowledge that they felt it, too. To be ambitious, to be cunning, was to one day be evil. To be in Slytherin was damnation. He had been a child once. He had been eleven years old when he had been damned.
The teachers all rallied behind Dumbledore and cried for equality. "Except for the Slytherins," the students whispered. "They're beyond saving."
To Draco it seemed strange, almost hypocritical, that he cared about that. The entire wizarding world had been shaped by such prejudice. It was that prejudice that had molded him.
Everyone practiced racism in one form or another, especially Draco. He knew his pure blood made him superior. Not smarter, or faster, or even a better wizard, just superior. He knew his place. He knew the truth just as well as the Dark Lord did. When he rose again, he would wipe away the filth and leave only the faithful, the ones who believed.
He knew it was impossible to destroy all of those who weren't pure. There were far too many half-breeds for that. Most likely they would be made second class citizens or slaves. The Dark Lord would make the entire wizarding world crumble to its knees and Draco intended to be by his side when he did so. Draco was not stupid. He knew who would win this war and he intended to be on the winning side.
Let Potter and his fan club drown for all he cared.
Let the Dark Lord crush them.
Draco wouldn't die for them; the people who cried for equality and then turned their backs and whispered the name "Malfoy" like it was the foulest curse.
He remembered in his fourth year, Moody had turned him into a ferret and proceeded to use his wand to levitate him and slam him repeatedly into the ground. It was his punishment for attempting to hex Potter when his back was turned. It was a reckless thing to do, but the hex that would have hit Potter had been nothing compared to the pain and humiliation that came with being turned into a ferret and then pummeled by a teacher.
It was McGonagall, of all people, who had rescued him and taken him to Medical.
Draco had been so embarrassed he hadn't even told his father.
Professor Snape had been furious when he had found out. He had demanded to Dumbledore that Moody be fired. His demands had fallen on deaf ears. Moody wasn't fired. He hadn't even been put on probation. He was denounced as a psychotic impersonator several months later. The real Moody had been in a box for the entire school year. One would think someone as "wise" and "powerful" as Dumbledore would have been able to spot the fake right away. He was getting senile in his old age. Why did so many people protest his removal as Headmaster of Hogwarts? He was clearly incompetent.
Draco sometimes wondered if Moody (or should he call him Crouch, now?) would have been fired had he tortured a Hufflepuff and not a Slytherin. What if Hannah Abbott had been covered in bruises and had blood running down her lip? What if she had cried? Would Dumbledore have cared then?
And if it had been Potter? Crouch would still be in Azkaban. Of course, he would have gone there regardless had the Dementor not kissed him. Or, so the papers read.
Draco was only a Malfoy. He was only a Slytherin. Let Dumbledore shout "equality." Let him declare that unity was survival. The old fool was wrong. They were all wrong. The only means of survival was found in the strength of those who were willing to save themselves.
Draco suddenly remembered the words his father had told him so many years ago before he had first boarded the train that had taken him to Hogwarts, "There is only power and those too weak to seek it." He was not weak. He would not fall like the others. He knew of the power that lay with the Dark Lord. He would not die. Not for them. Not for anyone.
He was what society made him. Was it any wonder why he sought to ally himself with Satan? Let society damn him and let the Dark Lord welcome him into the devil's circle. He had been pushed there since birth. What did he care if it burned?
Smiling, Draco held out his arm.