Disclaimer: Rowling, who happens to have invented Harry Potter, rhymes with bowling.


September 8, 1992

Dear Journal,

I talked to Millicent in passing after lunch, leaving the Great Hall. I just waited until she was done eating and had left, and then I said I had to finish a little homework and excused myself. I walked, trying to be casual, all the way to the doors, but whenever I feel like it's important to be casual, it suddenly feels really difficult. I think I pulled it off, but I still hope no one thinks I've got a date with her, or something -life is too busy without that kind of junk, with Quidditch practice and harder classes. I do not want to supply fuel for Pansy's express. Anyway, I caught up with her, and I said, "Hey!" trying to be super casual. She looked at me expectantly, but behind it I thought there was a glimmer of fear or something. I just said, "Can I borrow the book you were reading the other day? I waited a few days so you could finish it; it's just that I've been really bored with nothing to read and" I stopped. I felt really stupid and bookwormish. I hope this wouldn't ruin my reputation or something.

For the first time, she spoke, very softly. "I- I don't think you would like this book. The author, um, is a little... addled in the head..." She seemed a bit at a loss for words, if you permit my understatement.

"Oh, don't worry! I know it's" and then I leaned really close to her ear and hissed "a Muggle book." For the first time, I fully appreciated the decor of the corridor leading to the common room -people rarely lingered. Otherwise, our conversation would be tracked and spread across Hogwarts with at least five outrageous variations. Millicent practically collapsed in relief. Well, not really. She has a strong frame. I think maybe I overuse hyperbolas when writing. Well, back to the topic at hand: So I got the book, and Millicent's more comfortable around me. Later today, she said, "I get these books from my dad. He's a muggle, you know" (here she blushed, frowning) To distract her from her embarrassment, I replied, "my mom has a weird fetish for muggle writings." And at that note, we both left the common room and went to bed. (or me, to this little book)

Father's workload is increasing. He says he's "working towards a better future" -he seriously sounds like an advertisement or something. Hogwarts Board of Governors: working towards a better future. And then a nice picture of Professor Flitwick teaching Cheering Charms and of a bird's eye-view of the towers of Hogwarts, making sure to include parts of the Forbidden Forest, greenhouses, and Quidditch Pitch.

Maybe I can become an advertisement artist- at least then Father doesn't have to harp on about my grades. I don't know what he's worried about; I passed, right?

Basically, I'm upset at Father. Mother says it's just because I miss him.

I suppose I do love him,

DLM


October 3, 1992

Dear Journal,

Ugh, I've got this stupid cold. I hope it's rid of soon, I wouldn't want to miss the first Quidditch match! I'm getting better at shaking off Crabbe and Goyle. They don't accompany me to practice ever since they were nearly hit by a bludger that one time, so I can get to know some more people now. Like Marcus and Adrian, for starters. They're a lot different from the other people I know. They're like some kind of scarred crusaders. And that's not a hyperbole; they take themselves really seriously for delivering the Quidditch Cup to their House year after year. I'm not sure how well I'll fit, but at least the new brooms were a bit of an icebreaker. Father still thinks I ought to be better-connected.

Among all of the homework and Quidditch practice, I have barely had a moment to myself to write or read.

Sneeze,

DLM


October 31, 1992

Dear Journal,

Hallow's Eve, once again... dost thou remember the Muggles with their long pointed hats, green, warty makeup, and containers of candy? Well, their impression of magic was kind of close... except for the skin, and maybe the containers of candy. How obese we might be if that were part of our daily things to don. And do you remember their depictions of ghosts? White bedsheets, with holes cut in them. The holes, I think, were the most realistic part. Father got fed up with the nightly visitors, but he didn't want to get in trouble, he's rather close to the Minister of Magic.

So instead of giving them curses, he gave them all toothbrushes. As soon as the word got around, no Muggle ever dared to knock on our doors again. I don't know, that idea always made him stand out in my mind.

Oh, yes, and I why am I so cheerful? Father's daily owl of sweets was accompanied with a letter that is as below:

Dear Draco,

Your mother's illness has taken a small downturn. I have decided to let work rest and stay home for a while to care for her. I would take her to St. Mungo's but that may lead to some questions that are not meant to be answered, if you understand my gist. I have a freer schedule now, for my endeavors are finally proving successful. Do not let your mother's condition worry you; it is a small thing, and your marks are much more important.

Keep studying

Love,

Father

I've always thought it was funny that he signed as Father. Surely he doesn't think of himself that way. I always say "dear Father," but i don't sign as "love, Son." Passing over that, isn't that lovely? Not that she's sick, but that he's back!

Oh, and something strange and exciting is going on! Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris (however, I doubt anyone would actually marry her, perhaps it is just in the Squib's dreams), was petrified! And that isn't all; above, written in blood, is "THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE." For some reason, troublesome threesome (unfortunately not Crabbe, Goyle, and I; no it's Potty, Weasel, and Mudblood). I found it oddly ironic that Granger was standing right in front of it. But more so, I don't know, this queer kind of excitement flushed through me. I knew I was safe, for I had heard of incidents like this from my Father, who, when he's in a reminiscent mood, is really good at ghost stories on Halloween. But it was actually happening, in front of my eyes, so that I was quivering with excitement as my heart sped up and I pushed forward towards a grisly scene that might have, before, given me nightmares. "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!" I cried into the quiet, warning as well as smiling at the whole thing.

I know it was a horrible occurrence, but it just made me feel more alive, so amazed, and, I don't know. Maybe it's in my blood to feel this way or something. Oh! Blood! I must owl Father back! He told me earlier (reminiscent mood, right?) about the Chamber opening, and a Mudblood dying and such. He probably knows what's going on, or at least he could give me hints as to who it might be...

My face is so flushed it's as if I were drunk,

DLM


November 7, 1992

Dear Journal,

So much for becoming more popular among Slytherins from Quidditch. I can still hear Marcus' voice ringing incessantly in my ear. And none of the other boys in the locker room even acknowledged my presence. And the worst part was, it was my fault. I have no shield; no defense.

So, anyway, the game we've all been waiting for was today. And I was a little preoccupied with nerves and, I admit it, the prospects of finally beating Potter. I taunted him, calling him "scarhead" (Millicent later told me I should have said "scarface," I'm still not quite clear why) and a ballet dancer and got so carried away with it that I failed to notice, a few inches above my head, the Golden Snitch. Potter was hit with a bludger and still caught the Snitch.

At least Millicent still talks to me,

DLM


November 9, 1992

Dear Journal,

No, things aren't better. Father, though not at work, is stressed again because Dobby burned Mother's dinner -which includes her medicine- and is missing again. He has no idea where the house elf goes, and, in his own words, "a disobedient house elf is like having no house elf at all!"

Pansy is once again in her element; rumors concerning the Chamber (another muddy was petrified) sweep Hogwarts more effectively than Argus Filch. I once caught Millicent buying a talisman from some strange Ravenclaw, Fawcett, I think. I quickly paid for it, for I know that she isn't very rich. Then I implored her to not waste her money on such rubbish. She, however, was in a very upset mood: "You can say that! You don't have to worry because you're not some filthy half-blood!" Ugh. I bet Pansy or Tracey called her that.

Why do girls bring this on each other,

DLM


December 7, 1992

Dear Journal,

About everyone in the school is leaving for the holidays because of the whole Slytherin's beast thing. Father's reply came back, and it was a strict denial to reveal anything about the Chamber of Secrets, though he said, "rest assured, everything will be fine". I have a sneaking suspicion that Father might be somehow involved, resulting from the smugness of his handwriting (people have told me that I'm very detail-oriented).

Millicent was sullen for about a week, but bounced back okay with a chance of random moistening of the primary sight organs. I doubt that Tracey (I discovered it was her later, they were both acting very coldly toward each other) ever apologized, and the Slytherin Quidditch team treats me more or less with indifference, like a balance: I lost a game, I gave them broomsticks.

I'm fed up with people. I can't blame Millicent for her mood swing (female teenagers: stab, clean your sword, and watch your victim sob deeply -yes, I blame Tracey indiscriminately) nor can I blame the Quidditch team (burly mean people: expect quality, have a long memory). I don't blame them for human nature (except Tracey). I just am. So I've signed up with Professor Snape to stay here for the holidays, and Vincent and Gregory have opted to as well. I'm actually not upset this time. I need some dull robots to provoke me into liking human presence again. If not, I think I'll end up just hating myself.

Begging for boredom,

DLM


December 10, 1992

Dear Journal,

Professor Snape's class was particularly interesting, if not painful. Gregory's swelling solution, which was turning out pretty marvelously, exploded; hitting all nearby classmates, which include about all the Slytherins and a few Gryffindors. I am a bit finicky about my appearance, so when my nose swelled to be as large as my head, I was able to notice a problem. The Deflating Draft couldn't have come quick enough. Then the Professor spoke in a low, dangerous voice, holding up a firework that he had found in Greg's cauldron -the obvious cause of the trouble. Some teachers can look everywhere in the room while looking directly at each person individually. Professor Snape employed that device then, and I swear that the entire class swalloed simultaneously and tried to look innocent, even Greg.

Just another day in Slytherin-Gryffindor Potions,

DLM


December 25, 1992

Dear Journal,

Haven't seen you in a while. Okay, I apologize for losing you. But you're found. Isn't that the important thing?

Let's see, what have you missed... Well, Potter spoke snake at this Dueling Club thing a week ago (Useless -Lockhart taught it. No more information required), so everyone thinks it's him. Personally, I doubt it. He's friends with a mudblood and a blood traitor, how could he be attacking them? Pansy had four short days to spread before being whisked away. Mercifully, they were all gone. Except, of course, for the troublesome threesome and Vince and Greg and a few other random people.

So I'm pretty sure it worked. I now officially crave 3D peoples, and am forever flanked by Vince and Greg, therefore blocked from aforementioned 3D peoples.

But for a strange reason, after a brief chat with them in the quiet and empty common room, they left. And now I've had about four hours to myself. However, I didn't keep to myself. I decided to expand. I needed to accomplish something out of all these attempts! Finally, I found Blaise Zabini. He was cold and disinterested in me, but I could tell he was so bored (like me) with the absence of Teddy that he would endure my presence.

Hopefully I was somewhat interesting. We discussed current school events (i. e. chamber), people (i. e. Potter), and ideas (i. e. evilness, cliques, Death Eaters, et cetera)

Finally feeling friendly,

DLM


A/N: Father's endeavors are finally proving successful, huh? How interesting. Yes, I know I covered about a third of the year in one swoop, but I did not want the chapter to end, seeing as I feel compelled to put large sections of his life under a heading. And yes, I have given him a few malevolent traits, for I do admit that as he ages, he becomes undeniably compelled by violence and such. By the way, yes, it is a coincidence that Draco writes an entry on the same day that the Chamber first opens (September 8)

Did you notice, by the way, that Draco goes out of his way to address all of his professors as "Professor" except for Lockhart?