Chapter 3 – A Dragon's Place
Draco sat sprawled across a soft low-backed blue sofa idly waving his wand. Since his trip to Diagon Alley he'd taken to carrying his wand everywhere and often found himself doing just what he was doing now, imagining himself casting spells. Spotting a ripped seam in the far arm of the sofa, Draco passed his wand in front of it, muttered some gibberish, and pictured the rip disappearing. He was imagining his father praising him for this clever demonstration of magic when a flash of movement from outside caught his eye and drew his attention away.
A tall, slender man with thinning red hair shuffled nervously about forty paces from the front door, making no effort to approach the house. He was being watched curiously by one of the many white peacocks that roamed the grounds of the Malfoy estate as it too shuffled in the dust under the hot sun of an August day. On the man's other side was a tall hedge beyond which stood Trimble Slater, a stooped old wizard who had been working as the Malfoy family's gardener for over half a century. Trimble guided a steady stream of water from his wand towards the roots of the hedge, although occasionally some splashed through, spattering the thin man's robes. He responded with a kind of nervous agitation as if he were caught between two great dangers, though neither the spray of water nor the peacock were particularly formidable.
"My apologies again for the intrusion, Lucius," said a serious looking witch, whose black ponytail bound with a cheerfully bright red hair tie seemed oddly out of place given her stony demeanour. She stood chatting with Lucius Malfoy in the hallway next to the sitting room where Draco sat safely ensconced. Draco wasn't sure if his father was unaware of his presence or if Lucius just didn't care if Draco overheard the conversation, but either way he happily listened in.
"This must be most inconvenient for you."
"Tempest, Tempest," came the silky reply. "There is really no need for you to apologize. Obviously I bear you no grudge. Indeed, if anything, I should be thanking you. After all, it was most kind of you to let me know in advance that you were coming. It gave the cleaning staff time to make the house a bit more presentable."
"No one in the office really thought it was necessary. No one except…"
"Weasley." Lucius Malfoy finished the witch's sentence while casting an angry gaze at the wizard standing in the drive outside. "Don't tell me, let me guess. He received yet another 'anonymous' tip about me. I honestly don't know if he just enjoys harassing me or if he really hopes to find something. Maybe he thinks that'll lead to a promotion or a bonus of some sort; then maybe he can finally afford to buy clothes for all those red-haired brats of his. Maybe I should just give him a few Galleons and he'll finally leave me be."
Tempest nodded agreement, not noticing the sarcasm. "Of course, normally no one would take him seriously. It's just that everyone at the Ministry is jumpy after what happened at Gringott's Bank and all."
"Oh really? That isn't what this is all about, is it? Does that blood-traitor Weasley think that I stole the Philosopher's Stone? That he's going to find it here?"
"No, no, nothing like that at all. The stone wasn't even stolen! The theft was just a rumour. There was a break-in, but Dumbledore had already moved the stone to the school. It's just that when something like this happens the Ministry gets into a bit of an uproar. It's like shaking a bee's nest really. It doesn't mean anything is getting done but it sure looks busy. Ahh, here come the boys now."
Two men, whose worn and unkempt Ministry of Magic robes didn't quite give off the sense of authority for which they were intended, shuffled down the Malfoy's hallway, both carrying wands in one hand and Secrecy Sensors in the other.
"It's just like you expected, Miss Adams. Nothins here, right? Nothins that shouldn't be in any case."
"Do you wan' us to keep lookin' then?"
"No," Tempest Adams shook her head. "I think we've wasted enough of Mr Malfoy's time as it is. Grab your kits. I'll go break the news to Weasley."
Lucius Malfoy, his face wearing a smug expression, watched the witch walk down the drive to where the red-headed wizard was cleaning water droplets off his glasses. He stuffed them back on and listened to the news with an increasingly irritated expression.
The remaining two wizards nodded their good-byes. "Sorry to have bothered you, sir."
"Ahhh, but surely you'll need some refreshments before you go?"
"Oh that's quite all right, sir. I thinks those pastries you gave us earlier wuz more than enough."
"Oh, but on a hot day like this, you'll need something to drink. Please be my guest," Lucius pulled two bottles of elf-made wine from the folds of his robe.
"Sir, that's very generous of you."
"Right generous guvnor," agreed the second wizard. "Elf-made wine. That musta cost a few Galleons, that did."
"But, it looks like we're just on our way, sir. Doesn't look like we'll have time to share a glass."
"No matter," waved Lucius Malfoy airily. "Take them with you. You can enjoy a drink a little later then. Small compensation really for having been dragged all the way down here, wasting your day when I'm sure there are many more important things you'd rather be doing."
"Well, we're not really supposed to accept gifts or nothin'. . ." one of the wizards reached out and took the offered bottle anyway, "so mum's the word, sir."
"Of course, of course," Lucius smiled.
"Thank you very much, sir. You're a right good gentleman you are. Most people are just plain angry with us when they get they house-searched."
"I don't see why. You're just doing your job."
"That's what I always say guvnor."
"That's right, it is. That's what he always says."
With a final smile at the two wizards, a nod to Tempest and a scowl for Arthur Weasley, Lucius closed his front door.
Time has an interesting way of speeding up when you are trying to hold on to it, and as much as Draco was looking forward to going to Hogwarts, he was also frightened at the prospect of summer coming to an end. He'd never been away from home for more than a few weeks at a time, and certainly never without at least one of his parents. The idea of living somewhere else in a castle full of strangers sounded like a great adventure in mid-July when the departure still seemed far in the future, but now, in mid-August, it loomed. Draco was glad that his sisters were sitting on the floor of his room, distracting him from worrying about what lay ahead.
Both girls had bright blonde hair, like everyone else in the family. The oldest one, at eight, wore small multi-coloured glasses and had a head full of wild curls that were constantly getting tangled. The youngest, who was only four, had straight hair and, unlike anyone else Draco was related to, tended to insist on pink clothes. Both were routinely watched over by their nanny, Miss Mave, an elderly black-haired hag, who was currently peering at them from the doorway, silent as always.
"What are you doing?" asked Draco's youngest sister, Shade.
"He's doing what he's been doing all week and all last week," said Ember. "He's staring at the wall."
"I'm not really staring. I'm thinking and stuff."
"What are you thinking?" asked Shade innocently.
"I don't know really. It's kind of hard to explain. Just thinking."
"And staring."
"Mom sent you an owl."
"Really?" Draco leapt to his feet, his eyes like saucers. "Is it in the aviary?"
"Probably," said Ember.
Draco dashed for the door.
"Wait! Give us a ride," yelled Shade.
"Yah," said Ember. "Give us a ride."
Suddenly Draco's chest felt constricted, as if invisible ropes had been thrown around him and were being pulled together by a giant. He didn't panic, though it was hard to breathe, because he knew exactly what was happening. His sisters had been doing this little bit of magic to him almost non-stop over the last couple of months. As he continued to force his way towards the door, his progress now greatly slowed, Ember and Shade dragged along the smooth floor in his wake, whooping with pleasure.
Wondering how they'd learned this spell in the first place, let alone how they managed to cast it without wands, Draco grumbled, "Let me go. I want to see what Mom said."
"We told you, you have to give us a ride first," his sisters giggled.
Draco grunted as he pulled the two girls the length of his bedroom and out into the hall. When he was a few steps outside of his door, he said, "Okay that's it for you." He turned and picked up Shade and plopped her back on the bedroom floor and closed the door. As soon as the sisters were separated the spell collapsed and the invisible binds dropped off Draco. For some reason, the girls always had trouble keeping their spells going when they were apart.
"Hey no fair! Let Shade out," laughed Ember as she scrambled back to open the door. Draco knew he only had a few seconds so he dashed down the corridor as fast as he could and turned a corner in the nick of time. He ran out the front door, down the white marble steps and along the stone path that led to the Malfoy's aviary. Dozens of birds, most of them owls, were sitting around on the branches of the trees inside. Draco immediately saw an eagle owl with a note and a brownish bundle attached to its leg. The owl noticed Draco at the same time, flew down to one of the small hatchways, and extended its leg out so that Draco could remove the delivery. He immediately plopped down on the grass and ripped it open, causing a fold of purple paper covered with elegant writing to spill out, along with a neatly wrapped package. Draco eagerly snatched up the letter and read:
Dear Draco,
Hello my son. I can't believe how time has flown by.It seems like only yesterday when you were a little baby in my arms and now you're all grown up and heading off to school.I'm sorry I won't be there to see you off but I promise that when I come back from here (I'm in Lithuania while I'm writing, you'll have to look it up on a map sometime) I'll visit you at school and we can catch up.Meanwhile I've sent you two presents that will help make your time at Hogwarts a little more pleasant.First is this owl.I haven't given him a name yet. I thought you could pick one.I know we've got lots at home already but I thought you should have a young and strong owl in case you wanted to send me letters and I was far away.The second present is in the little package that came with this letter.It's a rather clever toy I bought off of a Latvian witch.I suggest that you don't show it to your father. I don't think he'd approve.In fact, I'd recommend that you don't even open it until you get to Hogwarts.
Write to me once you get settled and tell me all about school.
Love,
Your Mother,
Narcissa Malfoy
The owl had brown feathers on top, a white chest, and a patchwork of tan colours over the rest of its body. It stared with an intelligent expression in its orange tinted eyes.
"What should I call you?"
Initially Draco thought that he should pick an impressive and strong name like 'Storm' or 'Titan.' Then he thought it might be funny to pick a name that sounded weak and puny. 'Pipsqueak,' 'Ladybug,' and 'Fluffysnitch' all popped into his head. None of them seemed very good though.
"Do you have a name already?"
The owl stared at Draco.
"What is it? Flutter? Sandy? Baron Bottomdrawers?"
The owl picked at something on it's wing with its beak.
"Pepper? Tasmin?"
Suddenly the owl gave a deep "oooo" sound.
"Tasmin," said Draco. "Is that your name?"
Another "ooooo" settled the matter.
Draco reached up and stroked the tawny feathers. "Do you think we'll like it at Hogwarts? I'm glad someone will be coming with me."
"Ooooo"
"Do you think I should open up my other present from Mother? I'd like to but I'd hate for Father to confiscate it before I ever left. I guess I'll hold on to it for now." Draco slid the small box into his pocket.
It was difficult to avoid opening the parcel and Draco's mind was drawn back to it time and time again, at least until a second going-away present – this one from his father – pushed it out of his mind.
It was just past ten o'clock on another hot sunny day when Draco walked down towards the back gardens where his father had asked him to meet. He was carrying his Cleansweep Junior, its blue shaft etched with gold lettering that announced it as "A Young Wizard's First Broom." Draco had owned the broom as long as he could remember and was quite fond of it, though the Cleansweep Junior did have irritating 'protect your toddler' magic that limited its maximum speed and elevation. Worse still was the spell that made it automatically turn around and return to its starting point if the rider ever went too far from where they kicked off.
As Draco approached the garden he noticed that Lucius was holding two brooms. His heart began hammering as a wild thought crept into his mind, a thought that proved accurate when Lucius held out a black-handled broom and said, "You won't need that child's broom. After all, you aren't a child anymore. I think you are ready for something a little more advanced, like this Comet Two Sixty."
A mixture of sheer joy at the sight of the new broom and a pang of guilt over how he'd been resenting his parents for neglecting his birthday the previous month swept over Draco. He dropped the Cleansweep Junior, which hovered riderless, and enthusiastically grabbed the shiny black broom. Then father and son, their black cloaks flapping, kicked off. They flew slowly at first, around the gardens and over the house. Draco could see the large estate with its grounds, cluttered with leafy trees, stretching out in all directions.
"Try to keep up," Lucius laughed, a sound Draco was not overly familiar with.
Though he felt a bit unbalanced on the new broom, the younger Malfoy beamed and pushed his speed as best he could.
"Follow me to Netterturn Lake," yelled Lucius Malfoy as he banked to the right.
"But hasn't the Ministry of Magic said that we can't leave our own lands with the brooms?" Draco yelled back over the sound of rushing wind.
"Yes, yes they have," answered Lucius, accelerating towards a row of low hills in the distance.
They skimmed over the tops of the trees, their feet occasionally clipping off bright green leaves. At one point, they spotted a helicopter churning in the distance so Father and son dropped below the canopy and followed an old trail underneath the branches for a time. It was unlikely that anyone in the helicopter had seen them, but they waited for it to fly away before rising above the forest once more. For the rest of their flight they encountered nothing else (except for a few cows, none of whom seemed particularly interested in a couple of passing wizards) until they arrived at the lake.
Netterturn Lake wasn't really much more than a oversized pond surrounded by a rocky shoreline. It was high in the hills. From here one could see most of Wiltshire, but despite the view it was far enough away from any settlements that it wasn't visited by people very often, although the remains of old campfires could be seen here and there. Lucius Malfoy, surveying the chill lake, used his wand to pick up a stone and skip it across the water.
"Could you teach me to do that?" asked Draco hopefully.
"I could, but there are far more important things to teach you and time is growing short."
Lucius looked Draco up and down as if sizing up his son. Then taking a deep breath and speaking in a loud clear voice, as if delivering a speech to a large audience, Lucius said, "There is a natural order in this world. There is grass and there are sheep, there are crows and there are dragons, there are Muggles and there are wizards. A sheep will walk on the grass; a sheep will eat the grass. A sheep does not care what the grass thinks or how the grass feels. The sheep lives for the sheep. Likewise, if a crow is flying in the sky or roosting on a tree and a dragon wants to use that space, the dragon doesn't worry about the crow's feelings. The dragon doesn't find another place to rest. The dragon is stronger, faster, smarter and in every way superior to the crow. It is the natural order of things that the inferior animal makes way for the greater one. Likewise, Draco, Muggles are beneath us. They may look like us but they are inferior. Wizards have the right and duty to worry about the wizarding world. To us, Muggles are like the crow to the dragon, or the grass to the sheep; they are almost nothing to us."
A splash of a jumping fish sent ripples across the lake.
"I hate Muggles," Draco announced, prompting his father to ruffle Draco's hair affectionately.
"Understandably, but I will tell you this. I don't hate Muggles any more than the sheep hates the grass. Muggles are Muggles and they can't help it. What I hate is when we wizards bend over backwards to stay out of the Muggles' way. I mean really, there are literally billions of Muggles out there and every day there are more. And what do we do about it? We hide in our little corners of the world and do everything we can to make sure they don't see us. We could do whatever we want with this world; this world is ours. Yet the leaders of the wizarding world tell us that we must leave Muggles alone, we must hide from them, we must spend almost all of our time trying to make sure they don't even know we are here. We are like a dragon hiding from a crow. But it's not the Muggles' fault that we do this. It is the misguided ideas of our fellow wizards."
Lucius began to sound angrier, "And then if a Muggle's child shows even a hint of magical ability we are told to rush out and embrace these Mudbloods, to welcome them into our community. People like Dumbledore think wizards are wizards no matter what their blood. But mark my words, every fool of a wizard, every wizard who does nothing with his life, has some Muggle in him."
"And that's not all," Lucius' voice rose even higher as if he was trying to drown out somebody arguing with him. "The Ministry of Magic and wizards like Albus Dumbledore don't even want us to use half our powers."
"Which half?"
"Oh, the 'dark' half of course," answered Lucius sarcastically. "Do you know what the 'Dark Arts' are, Draconius?"
"Well of course. Lots of people talk about them."
"And why do you suppose people call them that?"
"I don't know," said Draco automatically. Then noticing an unhappy look on his father's face he added, "Because they are evil?"
Lucius let out a snort of derision, "No, your answer is entirely incorrect. Oh well, I suppose I should not be overly disappointed. After all, you are only ten years old. And besides, I should take some responsibility. I have obviously been lax in your education."
"Eleven."
"What?"
"I'm eleven now, actually."
"Really? Well in any case, The Dark Arts are a nickname given to anything that scares some wizards. It may scare them because they fear what may happen if somebody uses a certain spell or item on them, but it is usually something that scares them simply because they can't do it. They see a wizard cast a paralyzing spell, so they try to cast one. When they fail they call it a 'Dark Art' and make a clamour demanding that that particular spell be banned and never used again."
Lucius watched the impact of his words on Draco and continued. "There is nothing that makes one spell 'Dark' and another spell 'Light.' All spells are the same. They are all just means to an end. Each spell we know gives us another choice, gives us more power, yet there are wizards – the same wizards who call for us to protect Muggles and mix with them – who do all they can to stop us from using certain spells, or from studying certain subjects. Yet they can't see the hypocrisy of their ideas. It is perfectly legal to cast a spell that causes a fellow wizard to dance along like a puppet on a string, yet casting a very similar controlling spell can land you in the wizard prison of Azkaban. What makes one spell Dark and another not?"
"Because somebody called it that?" answered Draco tentatively.
"Exactly," gushed Lucius enthusiastically as if he suddenly found himself the right audience. "Exactly. And so the Ministry of Magic wastes much of their time trying to constantly expand the number of things we wizards simply can't do. And ever since Dumbledore took over at Hogwarts he has totally supported the idea of not teaching – or even letting students study – the so-called Dark Arts, almost pretending they don't exist. The only class they offer on the subject is Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"And that's why so many people didn't like the Dark Lord?"
"Yes it is. They were weak. They didn't want change. They were like frightened little puppies. They were so terrified they wouldn't even us his real name. His real name," the voice of Lucius Malfoy suddenly sank to a whisper, "was Lord Voldemort."
Lucius swallowed and gave a nervous chuckle and went on, his voice strong again. "But his enemies preferred to give him nicknames. They called him 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' out of some silly superstition that saying his name might cause bad luck or something, which just goes to show you how foolish most wizards are."
Draco ran his fingers along his broom's handle while the sun slowly dipped below the treeline. Lucius began to walk along the edge of the lake, seemingly enjoying a quiet twilight stroll. Draco sensed that he should follow and trailed along behind his father. Suddenly Lucius turned his pale blue eyes on Draco and said, "From what I've said, you must be thinking that I am a pretty poor father."
Without thinking Draco automatically responded, "No not at all. "
"Hmmm, yes, well thank you for that vote of support, but if you were truly thinking about it you would. We had a choice of sending you to Durmstrang or to Hogwarts. At Durmstrang you wouldn't have to mix with Mudbloods. At Durmstrang you would have a much broader magical education. You would be allowed to study the so-called Dark Arts. Yet I've chosen to send you to Hogwarts. The only reasons I've given in favour of Hogwarts are that it will make visiting easier and that it will save me money. From your perspective those are not very good reasons. If I were you I would be thinking, 'Why should I settle for a second rate education just to save my father a few Galleons?' "
"No, I wasn't thinking that," said Draco defensively.
Lucius, sounding more tired than displeased, answered, "Well you should be. You should always question things unless you are being treated the way a Malfoy deserves."
Lucius began to walk again as he explained. "If my only concern was to make sure that you received the best possible education in the way that I most approve of, I would send you to Durmstrang, but there is one other major advantage in sending you to Hogwarts. It is a very old and very highly regarded school. Many people consider it to be the best in the world. Whether it is or isn't the best is of little importance. The school's reputation is enough to ensure that most parents of children with great potential try to send their children to Hogwarts. As a result, the best, the brightest, the most famous – they inevitably end up there."
"And you want me to be part of that group."
"Yes, I do. You will be getting to know the pre-eminent wizards of the future. You can get to know what they are like and what weaknesses they have. You can learn how to control them so that when they become leaders, you will be leading them. That is why we want you to go to Hogwarts." Lucius sighed, and a slightly guilty expression crossed his face. "Though, I must confess, the fact that your mother, despite her frequent wanderings, doesn't want you to go to school too far from home had to be taken into account as well."
They arrived back at the estate just as the light of the long summer day had almost completely faded. Both Malfoys were famished and Draco was glad that Lucius volunteered to go and try to cajole Dobby into serving dinner.
Draco returned to his room and laid his sleek new broom on his bed. He admired the lines, while hearing occasional shouts from Dobby and his father in the background. After the noise had died down he changed into dinner clothes, washed up, and made his way to the dining room. It was a gloomy room lit by only a handful of tapered black candles. The room was decorated in heavy dark wooden furnishings, most of which had matching maroon coverings. A long table underneath an unlit crystal chandelier was already set. While Lucius draped his napkin across his lap at the head of the table, Draco took his place on the far end, fully twenty feet away. There was a roast pork, baked potatoes, green beans and a brownish soup.
Draco noticed the lack of other table settings and Lucius quickly explained, "Apparently your sisters have already eaten."
"How do they get Dobby to serve them?" asked Draco.
"I honestly don't know," answered Lucius, causing both men to smile.
Draco watched his father try a spoonful of soup and wince with disgust. Lucius tapped the bowl with his wand and the brown sludge swirled away and magically drained out of the bowl, making a sound not unlike a toilet as it did so.
It had actually been a pretty good day. One of the better ones that Draco could remember spending with his father.
"I won't disappoint you. At school I mean. I'll work hard. You'll be proud of me."
"That is good, Draconius. I'm glad to hear it."