Summary: Draco hated the cold; he wouldn't stay away from them more than half an hour. Certainly a catastrophe would take longer to create… No? Young!Draco, funny.
How does one degnome a garden at the Malfoys ?
Whenever Draco wandered in the garden, his parents had the choice between two very opposite reactions. Either they lost their heads and ran outside, using every known spell to pull him back, every known curse to frighten him into coming back, and every known sweet to lure him back; or they didn't move.
For whenever Draco wandered outside, some disaster generally occurred. It has to be said that Draco wasn't famous for his calm, silent and safe games. No, what he enjoyed more than anything else was running in the forest – at night, during the full moon -, jumping from rocks – at the very top of the mountain -, and playing the warlock – in his great grandfather's crypt, with very thorough demonology books.
Whence, that particular day of wind and cold, when Draco wandered outside, his parents eyed him in a sidelong glance, took a glimpse at each other, and decided to remain safe and cosy in front of the warm fire of the lounge. Draco hated the cold; he probably wouldn't stay long away from them, no more than half an hour. What could he invent in such a short time? Certainly a catastrophe would take longer to create… No?
Because Lucius and Narcissa didn't fear for Draco. Oh no! They feared for everything that he would come close to. Particularly themselves.
A night not so long ago, Narcissa had discovered Draco missing from his bed, a note on his pillar stating he had gone out to study nocturnal rabbits, and had frightfully realised the moon was full. She had awoken her husband, of course, and soon, all beings in the Malfoy Mansion had been seeking the child.
At dawn, Narcissa's arm had been slit by a werewolf, Lucius had been attacked by a group of vampires, six farmers were harmed and two house elves had perished in the jaws of a man-eating plant, but the little boy was still unfound.
It is only when heading back to the Manor, that a farmer had noticed a construction of cloth under the rosebushes of the flower garden. A miniature tent made of two sheets and a blanket was covering, all peacefully asleep, a lithe body… and a family of stuffed rabbits.
A day, even closer in time, Draco had showed his first sign of magic, by wandlessly opening the locks that had, thence that fateful night, barred the Manor's grand door. So proud of his son for his act of power, when Lucius had, some minutes after, been questioned about flying, it hadn't rung any bell.
"Yes," he had answered, "All capable wizards can fly."
For all wizards indeed fly, don't they? Thus, full of his new talent for wizardry, Draco had gone to the old castle on the top of the High Hill, had taken a detached view of the landscape, disregarded the very little people running toward him, screaming and waving their arms, and jumped.
Luckily, Lucius had remembered that being a wizard also entailed the ability of apparition, and had teleported just in time to take the bulk of the fall. Toll: four broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a wailing child screaming that 'his daddy was a liar' and a hysteric wife yelling that 'only a stupid husband would say to his son that he could fly'. The day after, Draco had been introduced to toy brooms with every available optional protection.
For a little while, it had looked like the end of the disasters. Draco seemed content on his broom, chasing after the house elves. His parents should have recognised the lull before the storm. They didn't. Therefore, when the elves stopped squealing like stuck pigs, they simply assumed their baby had gone to sleep somewhere.
Flashback
However, Draco hadn't been sleeping; he had been busy exploring his new discovery: a cavern! And in the middle of the Malfoy estate, no less. How could he never have noticed it? It was full of gilded and heavy books. The odour, though, wasn't that pleasant, thus he took a book out and started reading, discovering, to his greatest joy, a spell to throw fire! And he only needed a stick. Luck: there was one just next to him, a very fine peace of wood only slightly bent at the end. It would do the trick.
Draco pointed his stick at the ground and yelled: "Eeferi maren!" Nothing happened. "Eeferi maren!" he screamed again. Again, nothing. "Eeferi maren! Eeferi maren!"
No, decidedly, there was no fire getting out. 'What a bunch of idiocy that book,' he muttered. But the heavy tome remained a treasure of war, and he had to keep it. He went back home, dragging his book and his broom, leaving behind him a forest slowly starting to burn. Because a wood stick, just like a wand, has a direction, and if you hold it backwards, it will hex backwards too.
After dinner that same day, Draco went to his room to look a little more at the book. Maybe it was just that spell that didn't work. As he was scanning the pages for these funny drawings that covered many pages, he heard his father screaming and his mother running toward his room.
"Draco!" she released her breath, discovering her son safely tucked in his bed, reading a book. "Mum and Dad have to get out; you stay here and go to sleep like a good boy, will you?"
Uh? "Yeah Mummy." His mom had looked quite strange. Could she be ill? … No, it was probably the house elves that had been up to mischief. And he quickly forgot about it. Besides, there was a drawing that required all of his attention. It was said to make a… devil? Come out.
"What's that a devil anyway?" Draco wondered "Ha! It's written at the top of the page. Devil: master demon. Hey! Daddy tells I'm a demon too. And these stupid elves call me master. They call Daddy that too but he's no demon. So, if I draw the circle, a little boy should get out!'
It would be great; he would have a friend to play with. Mister Zabini refused to let Blaise come since his five-year-old birthday, when they had hidden in the cake and convinced the elves that their fathers had wanted jumping cream tarts instead of the old boring ones.
Draco got up from his bed, retrieved a chalk from his little cauldron-shaped pencil case, and applied himself to the copy of the drawing on the wooden floor. Long ago, the floor had been magically protected from getting marked but the spell had disappeared when Draco had tested a green-colouring potion on it and scorched all of the wood, leaving only the rock. His parents had probably forgotten to cast it again after the weird guys had repaired the wood.
At length, his drawing was finished. He got up and admired his work, then set to reciting the formula. "Come out! Come out, devil! By this soil and by this sky, devil to me you'll come. Come out! Come out devil! On this soil and under this sky, devil to me you'll come!"
There was a puff of smoke, a tiny flash then nothing.
That truly was a useless book. His father's books were boring and without drawings but at least, they worked. Once, when Draco had overheard his mother telling his father that he didn't get out enough, that they could take a walk in the forest, he had even grown a tree in his Dad's office. Now, he wouldn't have to get out to take the walks. His Daddy had gone all red. He had surely been too happy to say anything.
Draco yawned, threw the book under his bed and decided it was time to rest. If his parents came back and he wasn't in bed, they would imagine all sorts of odd things again. Really… No one would be stupid enough to go running the forest during a full moon. He pulled up the blankets above his head, hiding himself from the monsters that he was certain were roaming his room at night, despite the denying of his parents, curled up in a ball and in some seconds, was asleep.
He never saw the shadows getting out of his pentagram and never heard the sparks of electricity in the room, taking strength from his drawing, erasing it. He never suspected the devil that slowly took form near his bed and got out of the room, unaware of the little boy. His parents never mentioned neither the fire in the forest, nor the devil which caused them such great pains to send back to his world, nor the visit of the aurors who had felt dark magic coming from the Manor. Draco never saw any point in mentioning an old and worthless book.
It was only weeks later that the house elves, cleaning the sordid heap of junk under Draco's bed, found the book and reported it to their master. Lucius' face turned red once again, he burnt the book and bricked up the entrance to the crypt, but refrained from mentioning anything to Draco. It would have been worse than telling the boy that the book worked. It would have been affirming that it worked great, and then, nothing would have kept him from his 'cavern'. At least, now, the boy had forgotten about it.
The afternoon, when Zabini father complained one more time about how his genius of a child would only be allowed his wand when he would get to go to Hogwarts, 'very far away', Lucius sneered, "Give him the bloody wand and reserve me a first row seat."
End of Flashback
Draco paused on the doorstep and waited. After a moment, when he was certain his parents wouldn't come running, he surveyed his kingdom. Where would have been the point in searching for a game and walking all the way if he was to come back for sweets? But no, they had looked too tired to bribe him today. That was fine with him, he wasn't very hungry. But…
What was that thing he could see moving, far away from the house, near the estate border? It looked like an elf… in smaller. A new friend!
He walked some steps toward the creature and suddenly recognised… a gnome. He had read a book on gnomes. There had been some great images of these horrible things. The text had been unimportant. Under a picture there had been written: Vermin. And pests were the sort of things his parents would never care about, so he could play with them all he wished.
There had been two things worth remembering in the book: first, gnomes are stupid and second, gnomes bear grudges for very very long. A dark grin deformed his lips. He had the perfect game.
He ran to the other side of the Manor, leaped down under the enormous roots of a five centuries-old coper beech tree and rummage through the fallen leaves for his treasures. Yes, they were still there. Hopefully, his parents hadn't discovered them or they would have confiscated them.
He then ran back to the gnome, watched it jump and hide in its hole, but it only served in making him smirk. He disposed a treasure at the top of every gnome hole in the vicinity, so that every little gnome would have his own little toy. When there was only one left in his hands, he kept it for himself and positioned at the fence.
"Oh! How lucky they are, these little gnomes on the other side of the fence!" he started screaming, "They have a big garden to dig their holes, and the soil is so loose they don't hurt their little paws! The weather is warmer too and there is so much more to eat! Indeed, they are very lucky the gnomes on the other side of the fence!"
Surely they would have understood by now. Draco pricked up his ears, hearing small moving in the holes. If he screwed up his eyes, he could even catch sight of tiny heads jutting out above. In a swift move, he hid his grin behind his hand.
"Yes, how very lucky they are the little gnomes on the other side of the fence," he repeated. "Why is it that we cannot go there too? But when we try to pass, they attack us with their weapons. They are evil the gnomes on the other side of the fence. They blocked up the access to their side with that evil fence and now, they refuse to give us some of their food."
Earth was moving under him.
"The winter is announcing very cold. We won't have anything to eat for a long time and we'll freeze in our holes, while they will be partying in vegetables! It's an insult to the equality of gnomes! We have to revolt!"
As if to illustrate his point, a gnome from Lord Nerin's estate came out of his hole, a shred of lettuce hanging from his mouth. "Look, gnomes from this side! Look at this sated traitor!"
Heads came out of holes, growls of angry gnomes echoed in the meadow. "The gnomes of the other side are calling for war! Let's show them that we won't stand by and die of hunger!"
Glancing around him, Draco verified all were looking at him for the lesson. "You have to take a stone, and put in on the piece of tissue, and then you hold the stone with your right hand, like that." He held his hands high up in the air so that all of his spectators would see. "Then you pull on the stone, you put your left hand toward the people you want to shoot, and you release the stone." The rock dashed through the air, knocked out the gnome and the piece of lettuce fell on the floor.
"Yeah!" Draco screamed.
"Raaa!" the gnomes roared.
A group of enemy gnomes, attracted by the noise, came out of their holes.
"Attack, faithful army! Let's take back our food and homes!"
"Raaa!" the gnomes yelled again as they took their little catapults and searched for stones.
Some minutes later, tired, Draco headed back to the Mansion. As his parents still were in the lounge, he went for a book in the library, chose one on deception potions and joined the adults who felt relieved as his quick return. Less than twenty minutes, as they had foreseen. Lucius relaxed in his armchair.
"Did you have fun Draco?" Narcissa asked her son.
The little boy interrupted his lecture and looked at his mother. "Oh yes, I played war with some new friends."
Lucius' head shot up. War? And which friends? Dubious of the calm that reigned in his estate after an escape, as short as it had been, of his daemonic son, he peeped through the window. Just a peek, mind you. An innocent quick look.
All seemed calm. There was no fire, no pentacle of Death, no invasion of muggles. Till…
What were these small things moving? He screwed his eyes and gawped at the sight. An army of gnomes was waging war at the fence to invade Lord Nerrin's estate. Lucius glanced at Draco.
"Is there a problem darling?" Narcissa inquired, her voice slightly worried.
"No, not at all." And Lucius sank back into his armchair, a smile twisting his lips. To say some plebeians had to resort to sending these pests away by hand. Indeed, his son would go far in life.
The End.