My father took me to Knockturn Alley before we did anything else. He was going to sell some objects with connections to Dark Magic that we had at the manor in case the Ministry would do a raid. We went to Borgin and Burkes, because where else would you be able to sell these things?

When we entered I started to look around, fascinated against my will, as always. I found the shop both disgusting and thrilling. Right in front of me I spotted a glass eye, and I stretched out my hand to grab it.

"Touch nothing Draco."

I stopped midair, and lowered my hand.

"I thought you were going to buy me a present."

I put on a lot of sulkiness, just to annoy him.

"I said I would buy you a racingbroom."

"What's the good in that if I'm not on the house team?" When he didn't answer I kept on: "Harry Potter got a Nimbus 2000 last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous ... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead." I looked close on a couple of skulls, trying to make out whether they were real or not. Then I kept on with my well-rehearsed speech about Potter.

"Everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick-."

"You have told me this a dozen of times already. And I would remind you that it is not - prudent - to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear - ah, Mr. Borgin."

My father turned towards the man that had appeared behind the counter. I didn't like Mr Borgin. He gave me the chills, and he was so obviously ingratiating.

"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin as he smiled a greasy smile. "Delighted - and young Master Malfoy, too - charmed. How may I be of assistance. I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced -" Eagerly he started to walk around the counter to show my father something, who interrupted.

"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling,"

Mr Borgin's smile faded.

"Selling." His tone too had changed drastically.

"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," My father took out a roll of parchment to show mister Borgin, and I started to look around the shop again. I spotted a withered hand that lay on a cushion and I went closer to examine it.

"Can I have that?" I said loud and pointed at the hand.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" Mr Borgin quickly went over to me, and that almost made me regret I had said anything. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir." He kept on.

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," My father's cold voice made very clear he did not like me interrupting his affairs, and even less the words of Mr Borgin.

"No offense, sir, no offense meant -" Mr Borgin foolishly tried to smooth it over.

"Though if his grades don't pick up," I felt the blood rush towards my face, "that may indeed be all he is fit for -"

I couldn't help but try to explain it away.

"It's not my fault. The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger -"

"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," he snapped. I turned to look at my feet. It wasn't the fact that Granger beat me in every exam that made me ashamed. It was the fact that I tried to blame her for my bad grades.

As my father and Mr Borgin picked up their subject again I started to walk around the shop again, angrily examining everything. As I turned away from a necklace, I found myself right in front of an old cabinet. It was of dark wood and quite handsome. Curiously I stretched out a hand to open it, but I was interrupted by my father.

"Done. Come Draco." I quickly turned back and went to stand next to my father.

As we left the shop he put a hand on my shoulder to make sure I didn't disappear. I glanced up on him and immediately tried to impersonate his expression of disgust towards the filthy streets and the even filthier people who sneaked around in here. I also tried my best to adapt his proud attitude, but it's hard when you found yourself being afraid of everything within a thirty yards area.

Though as soon as we got into the Diagon Alley I automatically relaxed. I liked it much better here. It was lighter, and held much more interesting shops.

The shopping went smooth, with the exception of my father driving me mad with all his remarks about how much more he would have believed me about. And as we went to Flourish and Blotts I was close to exploding. So as I watched the drama between that Lockhart-man and Potter, I saw my chance. I went down the stairs towards him as I straighten up and put on my very best, and Malfoyish sneer.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you Potter?"

He straightened up and stared into my face. His look of total dislike would later keep me away from falling asleep, wondering what the hell I was doing, but at the moment no such doubts were present.

"Famous Harry Potter. Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page." I rolled my eyes.

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!"

In surprise I turned towards the girl standing next to Potter. Judging by her red hair she was the youngest Weasley. She barely reached my shoulder but was nevertheless glaring at me, unafraid.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!"

As she went scarlet I felt a little sting of shame, but I threw it aside, as Granger and Weasley made their way to us.

"Oh, it's you." Weasley looked at me as if I was some disgusting creep. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh."

I didn't quite understand what he meant but wasn't late to retort.

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley. I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those." I made a gesture towards his books, and as always, making comments about money and his family made him go as scarlet as his sister. He threw his books into his sister cauldron and started towards me. I was almost disappointed as Potter and Granger grabbed his jacket. I would have welcomed a fight.

"Ron! What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside." It was Mr Weasley who had arrived. I felt a rush of disappointment. I hadn't been done yet.

"Well, well, well, Arthur Weasley." My father put his hand on my shoulder as he spoke. I glanced at him, and saw that he was wearing the very same sneer that I'd been doing just a minute before. I turned towards Mr Weasley with new interest.

"Lucius." His eyes were cold as they met my fathers, and he made an effort to go away, but my father interrupted.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear. All those raids… I hope they're paying you overtime."

There was a very bad hidden remark in that line. As he'd spoken he had reached for a book in the Weasley-girl's cauldron.

"Obviously not." He kept on as he looked closer to this second-hand-book. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it."

I curiously turned towards Mr Weasley to see his reaction, and he had flushed scarlet just like his children.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy." Mr Weasley had straightened up, despite his flushed face, and I felt my father tense next to me as he spoke.

"Clearly." My father answered in a cold voice, and I followed his eyes towards a man and a woman who were standing a few feet away, watching with non-understanding written over their faces. I realized it must be Mr and Mrs Granger, after a quick look at their clothes, and I felt a sudden rush of longing for Melissa and her very kind parents, who resembled Mr and Mrs Granger so much.

"The company you keep Weasley…" I heard my father say, and I felt angry on the Stewart-family's behalf, before I remembered they weren't the ones he was speaking about. "And I thought your family could sink no lower."

The insult made Mr Weasley throw himself at my father. I barely had time to duck away, before they banged into a bookshelf and made all the heavy books fall down over us. Mrs Weasley and the shop assistant were yelling for them to stop, but it wasn't until Hagrid entered the shop and broke them apart with force they let go of each other. My father had got hit in the eye and it was already swelling up and shifting into blue. My father looked furious as he thrust the Weasley-girl's book back to her.

"Here girl, take your book, it's the best your father can give you."

He gestured with his hand that we should leave the shop and I hurried after him. I didn't dare say a thing as we headed towards the Leaky Cauldron, nor as he stretched out an arm for me to grab before he Disapparated. And he was just as quiet. Not until we stepped inside the doors and my mother worriedly asked him what had happened, he spoke.

"Draco, go to your room."

My eyes widened. I hadn't done anything; he couldn't possibly blame me for what had happened. He must've seen the fear in my face for he spoke again.

"Go to your room, Draco. I need to speak with your mother."

"There is nothing wrong." My mother filled in, and a kind smile from her assured me, and I ran up the stairs, so my father wouldn't be able to claim I was disobeying him.