Diagon Alley
Disclaimer: As shocking as you'll find it, I don't actually own Harry Potter!
Draco awoke to the sensation of breath on his neck. His blue eyes focused on cold grey ones, 'smiling' down at him.
"Good morning, Draco," greeted Lucius.
Draco sat up hastily, trying not to let his face betray him of all the fear he felt inside.
"Why so anxious, Draco? Anyone would think you were scared of something," Lucius teased, chuckling slightly. Draco made no reaction.
"Are you not going to wish me a 'good morning', son? Fear might prevent a lot of things, but common courtesy is not one of them."
"Good morning, Father," Draco repeated in robobtic fashion.
"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Lucius enquired, practically sucking on Draco's neck, he was so close. (A.N. this isn't a Malfoycest story, and Lucius isn't a vampire. Interesting idea, though... back to the story)
Draco shook his head in reply. Lucius smirked again.
"Been quite spry these last couple of days, haven't you, Draco?"
"How so, Father?" Draco asked, but regretting it almost instantly. One thing his father hated more than his own son was his own son speaking out of line and/or disobeying him.
Fortunately, that question was just the reaction Lucius wanted.
"You have been extremely fortunate when it came to your punishments, have you not? Yesterday afternoon, your cousin came in just at the 'right time'. And Auntie Bellatrix came in to your room 'by mistake' yesterday, claiming she thought it was Narcissa's quarters, when she knows quite well they are on the floor below the attic," Lucius replied in a perfectly-rehearsed tone.
Draco wasn't sure what to think.
"You may have had luck on your side then, my boy, but look around you. The room is locked, and soundproofed. It is seven a.m. Your mother will not be rising for at least another two hours. Your Aunt Bellatrix is back at home with Uncle Rodolphus. The door has been charmed so not even a house-elf can penetrate. Your cousin doesn't even know where your room is, true?"
Draco nodded, adrenaline rushing through his body.
"Not that she would care. Why on earth would the child of such a highly regarded Death-Eater care for the likes of you?" Lucius continued, starting to pace.
"Bella cares," Draco mumbled, but not quietly enough. Lucius had unusually sharp hearing.
"What was that? Oh, dear boy, you think your Aunt has any affection for you whatsoever? No, no, child. That is an illusion." Draco shivered unvoluntarily.
"Getting a little cold, are we? Perhaps this will warm you up. Crucio!" Once again, the room was filled with Draco's screams. Every bone, every joint, every muscle felt as though it were on fire again.
Again, Lucius waited for several minutes before lifting the curse.
"How was that, Draco?"
"Painful, Father." Draco could have kicked himself. It was that answer that had gotten him into deeper trouble yesterday.
Apparently, Lucius thought so, too. "You don't learn, do you? Another dose, I think. Crucio!" This time, it was worse. His muscles, bones, joints were already aching from the last curse. This time, they had had no time to heal.
It was five minutes before the curse was lifted again. Draco was left writhing on the floor, having fallen off his bed in his violent shaking.
"Tut tut, Draco. You are being extremely weak today, are you not? Only another spell will toughen you up." He cast the curse again.
This was far worse than any being hit/belted. At least they were over quicker, because even Lucius got tired arms. With Cruciatus, all the caster has to do is hold his wand up for a while, and mean the pain.
It finally stopped after another five minutes.
"How I would love to continue with this, Draco. I have all day off. No-one would miss you," Lucius said gleefully, watching his son squirm and writhe violently on the floor.
"However," Lucius continued, letting Draco see a small ray of hope. "I know how much you will be missing our typical punishments. Did you not just say yourself how Cruciatus was so much worse?"
Draco looked at his father in shock. How had he known?
"I am a rather gifted Legilimens, Draco. It is not only your mother with that gift. Perhaps I should spare you more Cruciatus for a later date. For example if I find your N.E.W.T results to be exactly as I should expect them, it would make me feel extremely guilty if I had punished so cruelly only hours before. They are due today, are they not?"
The N.E.W.T mock results! In all the 'arrival-of-a-new-cousin' drama, he had completely forgotten about them! And his father was right; they were indeed due today.
"Don't worry, Draco," Lucius taunted. "Your grades are as I expect, there may well be a treat in order. I might not get drunk so often and beat the hell out of you!" He gave a cruel, taunting laugh, and exited, leaving Draco on the floor, still weak from the rounds of Cruciatus.
Phoenix awoke from another nightmare. She had had them on and off all night, each time, getting closer and closer to the moment she nearly died.
She rubbed her eyes, to try and wake herself. It didn't work too well.
Suddenly, she remembered what day it was! She sat up, and climbed out of the bed.
Not really sure what to do, she decided to go and retrieve the bag of things she had salvaged yesterday. At least it had a change of clothes and a few personal items in there, which might make it feel more special.
On her way out of the room, though, she nearly tripped over another elf, asking in a squeak if 'Miss was hungry. Does Miss want something to eat?'
"No, I'm fine," she replied. The elf bowed, but Phoenix wasn't paying attention. She was trying to mentally navigate her way around this massive house. She was sure she'd easily get lost, maybe even end up in Narcissa's quarters again. Remembering what had happened last time she'd done that, she was determined not to let it happen again.
The problem was, there weren't just simple floors with rows and rows of doors on the floors-only the floor above the main hall was like that. On the rest of the floors, doors lead to whole corridors, which lead to more corridors and passageways. How the elves knew their way around she didn't know.
Then again, some of them just appeared out of nowhere-she'd noticed that with the house-elf who'd just asked her if she wanted breakfast.
"What are you doing?" came a voice from behind her. She turned and saw Narcissa looking at her inquiringly.
"Looking for a way off this floor," Phoenix replied, to which Narcissa smiled.
"It is confusing, isn't it? Don't worry, I had to have Lucius to escort me everywhere when I first moved in. I think I needed to rely on a map at one point." She laughed at the memory, Phoenix joined in.
"Where are you trying to get to?"
"Downstairs. I need to get something." Narcissa began walking away, and beckoned for Phoenix to follow.
She followed the woman down three more passages before finally reaching a staircase. But there were still two more floors to cover before reaching the main hall.
Luckily, though, she found that the other levels were easier to navigate. She could have found her way off these levels easily.
"Thanks," Phoenix said after they finally reached the hall. Narcissa smiled, and headed back upstairs, and out of sight. Phoenix quickly scanned the hall for her Adidas bag. There it was, by the door, where she'd left it (or where Draco had left it) yesterday.
She went over to the door, picked up her bag, and was about to try and find her way back to her 'room', when she was interrupted.
"What is that?" She turned, and saw Lucius.
"Just-stuff. Personal stuff," she replied nervously. Narcissa could be intimidating, but she was nothing compared to Lucius. His posture alone could send someone scurrying into a corner to hide.
"When did you get them? I can't recall seeing that bag before," Lucius pointed out, coming closer.
"I picked it up yesterday."
"Ah, of course. When you and my son disappeared for the afternoon." Lucius smiled. "Where was it you went, girl?" Phoenix's expression was unreadable. She could handle 'Miss' or even 'young lady', but 'girl'? No way.
"Forgive me for patronising you, however as I do not know your name, I think you will. What is your name, may I ask?" Phoenix said nothing, surprised he didn't know yet.
"Phoenix," she replied eventually.
"I see. Phoenix, this may seem a bit-forward as I have only just met you, but could you perhaps do me a small favour?" She shrugged.
"I guess."
"Good. My son is to go to Diagon Alley this afternoon. To buy his school supplies, you see. I was wondering if you should like to accompany him, as it is very likely you shall also be attending Hogwarts."
He couldn't have said it in a clearer tone, but Phoenix was lost. Where-or what-was Diagon Alley, and she'd never even heard of a place called 'Hogwarts'. She would have to ask Bellatrix, if she was around.
She was about to reply, when she saw Lucius had gone.
After finally finding the strength to get himself up, Draco started wandering down the hall outside his door, thinking.
'I know I revised my arse off for these stupid mock exams. If I do badly, Father will kill me! I bet that Muggle-loving prick Dumbledore has failed me, just to spite me. I wouldn't put it past him, that stupid bas-' He stopped. He'd heard something.
He turned around in a flash, hoping against hope it wasn't his father. Pacing was another little thing that irked him. Again, his prayers were answered. It was Phoenix, carrying the bag marked 'Adidas', and struggling slightly.
She put it down, as though in defeat, then saw Draco. "Hi," she said.
"Hi," he greeted back. They stood there awkwardly for a few minutes.
"You want some help with your bag?" he said eventually, his aching muslces screaming in protest even now.
"Nah, you're all right. You carried it back yesterday." Draco nodded, and was about to move on, when suddenly; "There is something you could help me with."
He turned, and looked at her expectantly.
"Help me get around this place. I don't even know how to get back to my room," she laughed, nervously. He smirked.
"Sure. Come on." She picked up her bag, and followed him. They said nothing for the entire journey back to the guest room.
When they finally reached the room, Draco was surprised to find Bellatrix already there. "Morning, Draco. Good morning, Phoenix," she greeted, surprisingly cheerfully.
Then, without warning, her expression changed from one of cheeriness to one of pure horror. Draco followed her gaze, and saw Phoenix gasping for breath again. She hurriedly opened her bag, and searched frantically through it, until she finally produced the blue tube Draco had seen yesterday.
A few squirts, and she was breathing normally again. "Asthma," she said, by means of explanation. While Draco was lost, Bellatrix nodded in comprehension.
"So, Phoenix, have you thought any more of our talk yesterday?" Bellatrix began, ignoring Draco. Phoenix nodded.
"I think I'll pass. How can I be expected to do well when I wouldn't even know what the hell they were saying half the time?" Bellatrix's face fell.
"Phoenix, they'll make an exception. It's hardly your fault-ow!" She grasped her left forearm, and rolled up her sleeve, to reveal an ugly black tattoo, that was a fierce black.
"Excuse me," she said, and quickly walked down the corridor, Phoenix looking confused, Draco looking frustrated.
'Honestly, does he ever give them a day off?' he thought furiously.
"Why does she keep walking off at random moments? And what was with the tattoo?" Phoenix said suddenly.
"It's complicated," Draco sighed. In truth, he really didn't want to get into this now. To his surprise, Phoenix didn't argue, just went into her room, closing the door behind her.
He found her on the top step of the marble staircase, holding a picture in her hand, looking down at it sadly. He took a seat next to her.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said, unsuccessfully hiding the photo.
"What's on the picture?"
She shook her head again. Draco sighed.
"You're depressed," he said eventually.
"And there's some question as to why?" she asked fiercely, standing up.
Draco realised his mistake. "No, I didn't mean that, I meant-"
"What did you mean?" she challenged, calming down slightly.
"All I meant was, you've been handling this so well, and now suddenly, you're all, well, clinically depressed." She snorted, and laughed.
"Crap effort for attempts at flattery, but ten out of ten for cheering me up," she laughed, sitting back down beside him.
"Seriously, what's wrong?"
"Maybe that you're asking this very stupid question over and over?" He gave her a 'stop-being-sarcastic' look.
"Fine. I'll tell you," she gave in. He sat up, ready to listen.
"Today's my seventeenth birthday, and it's just gonna be weird celebrating-if you could call it that-it with total strangers. Before, I'd always known my foster families at least a month before moving in with them, and getting into a routine, like Christmas, Easter, birthdays," she said, looking for his reaction.
"Oh," was all he said, at a loss for words (A.N. becoming common, huh?)
"Last year was perfect. It was the longest I'd ever stayed with a foster family for, I had a great party-"she stopped to laugh-"I had Denny-you remember him-wake me up at nine a.m. by throwing little stones at the window! I nearly knocked him off the branch..." she faltered, remembering what had actually happened. And that he, too, had died.
"My friends and me, we'd always go shopping, but on our birthdays, they did everything the birthday girl wanted to do, including going into shops that we all thought were totally gay, just for the hell of it."
"And when we got back, there was a huge party-up at the Children's Home, actually. They had a bigger garden. And it was kinda nice seeing all the others again. Also, it's an unpsoken rule between them not to be jealous of the ones who'd got themselves fostered, so no grief there. There was a huge cake, dark, rich chocolate. It was-perfect." She stopped, and let her head fall in her hands.
"And what am I going to have this year? How do wizards celebrate birthdays?"
"Pretty much as you just described."
"Really?"
"Sure. And you know, in the wizarding world, you are now officially an adult!"
"What?" She lifted her head, smiling.
"You're an adult. You can do any magic you want!"
"Draco, you're forgetting. I am currently wandless. Unless you can do wandless magic." Draco grinned.
"I'm thinking you should make that shopping trip an annual thing. I need to go to Diagon Alley anyway. Come, and we'll get you sorted. What do you think?"
"You want to go shopping?"
"No. I just have to. That's one thing we can't trust the house-elves to do. Like I said, come with me. It'd be better than staying in on your birthday, right?" She shrugged.
"I guess," she agreed. "What's 'Diagon Alley' like?"
"Well, I like it, and I despise shopping."
"Enough said," she grinned. They waited a few minutes without saying anything. "Thanks, Draco." He shook his head.
"No, it's no problem. Otherwise, I'd be walking along either with my mother for company or Crabbe and Goyle. Or worse, Pansy Parkinson," he grimaced, rising.
"Friends of yours?" she teased, standing up.
"You could say that, yeah," he agreed, walking down the stairs. Phoenix shook her head. It was too early to say, but she had the feeling she would never understand her cousin.
"Draco! A letter has arrived for you!" called Narcissa from the dining room.
Draco shivered. He knew what it would be.
"There's probably one for you too, you know," he said to Phoenix.
"Why would there be one for me?"
"Just wait and see," he smirked, heading towards the dining room, Phoenix following.
Sure enough, there were three letters on the table; one thinner looking letter addressed to Draco, and two larger letters for Phoenix and Draco. At the end of the table was a very nervous-looking Narcissa.
Trying to act confident, Draco scooped up the letters, and handed Phoenix hers, before working on his own.
He decided to open the thinner one first, not wanting to prolong the agonising wait for his mock results.
Before he had a chance to even unseal his envelope, a sharp cry from behind him made him turn.
"They've actually accepted me into their school? I'm seventeen, and don't know any goddamn magic! What are they thinking?" she ranted, breathing heavily, hand clasped over her inhaler in her pocket, scared another attack was coming.
"I'm sure you'll learn fast enough," Narcissa consoled. "You still have four weeks."
"Four weeks. I'm supposed to catch up on God knows how many years of work in four weeks?" she cried, getting hysterical.
"They will help you. They obviously have faith in you, so have faith in yourself. Draco, have you managed to see your results yet?" Draco shook his head, and began slowly pulling out his results sheet. They were as follows;
Arithmancy: O
Transfiguration: O
Potions: O
Charms: O
Herbology: O
Defence Against the Dark Arts: A
'"A"' he thought panickedly. '"A"! He'll never accept that! Oh, I don't believe this!' He threw the sheet down on the table, and sat down in the chair. Narcissa leant over, and read the results.
"Oh, Draco, how did you manage that? You only got an 'A' in Defence Against the Dark Arts! You worked so hard, child! Or did you? Did you think this was a soft option? Lucius will never accept this!" She threw his sheet at him, and stalked off.
"How did this even happen?" Draco said aloud after a few minutes of awkward silence. "I worked so bloody hard for these stupid mocks, and I still did crap!"
"Isn't an 'A' good?" Phoenix asked.
"No, it's not good! Yeah, it's a pass mark, but it's the lowest one! And it's in DADA! I bet bloody famous Potter passed that with flying colours!" His head slumped on the table.
He lifted his head, and noticed she was still there. "Do you want to go to Diagon Alley then?"
"You don't have to. I know what it's like to get crap exam results." Draco grinned.
"Let's go. I'm gonna need some time to relax before Father dear beats the shit out of me!"
"What!" Phoenix asked in shock. Draco realised he'd just let the abuse slip.
"Just an expression," he lied, trying keep his cool, confident act. Phoenix didn't believe him, but had enough experience not to push him; if it was a joke, she'd be over-reacting, and if it was true-she didn't want to think about it.
Hermione rushed into their room, screaming at them to wake up.
"Do you realise our mock N.E.W.T. results are coming through today? I just know I've failed! I totally screwed up my Ancient Runes one! And Arithmancy! What if I didn't revise enough! Come on, and get up!" she shrieked.
Ron sat up groggily, mumbling; "What?"
Harry, meanwhile, was still trying to wake up. He had had another dream about the attack he had dreamt two nights previously. Everything was pretty much the same, except that they had been recurring all night, each time getting closer and closer to the moment the Death Eater had died.
"Harry! Wake up!" Hermione screeched.
He quickly sat up, and said; "What's the matter?"
"Have neither of you been paying attention?" she snapped.
"We try not to," muttered Ron, only to receive a Mrs Weasley glare off Hermione.
"Our mock results are back today! If we do badly, we won't be let back! Harry, think what it could do to your career! And Ron, you were a Prefect! Do you really think you should be treating these results so-casually! The point is, get up! The owls are here!" She sprinted out, leaving Ron and Harry to attempt another snooze before she would no doubt come dashing back in with their letters.
Sure enough, five minutes later, she came dashing back in with their letters.
"There's a second letter for each of us!" she announced. "That has to be a good sign, right? Or what if it's an exclusion letter? Oh my God! That's what they are, aren't they? We've all done so badly that we've all been excluded!"
"Hermione!" Harry shouted. She turned to face him.
"Calm down! If there's anyone least likely to be expelled, it's you! Ron's the most likely to get the bad results!"
"Hey!"
"Damn, didn't know you were awake!" Harry grinned. It also got Hermione smiling.
"Well, aren't you going to open your letters?" Hermione said, pushing their letters underneath their noses.
"You mean you haven't already?" grumbled Ron, fumbling with the envelope on his thinner letter. He pulled out his results sheet, and gave a startled cry; "Hey! I got an 'O' in Charms! I don't believe it! And an 'E' in Herbology and Transfiguration. And Potions-blimey, how'd I manage that?-damnit, 'A' in Defence Against the Dark Arts! But I tried so hard!" he groaned, looking up at his two expectant best friends. "Well, let's see what you got, then?"
"You go first, Harry, I can't bear it!"
Harry sighed, and pulled out his own results. They were as follows;
Transfiguration: 'O'
Potions: 'E'
Charms: 'E'
Herbology: 'E'
Defence Against the Dark Arts: 'O'
"Oh, that's brilliant, Harry!" Hermione gushed as she read his results over his shoulder.
"How'd he do?" asked Ron.
"Three 'E's and two 'O's," Harry replied. Ron shrugged; "Always knew you'd do better than me," he mumbled, making the atmosphere uncomfortable.
"How'd you do, Mione?" said Harry, changing the subject.
"Oh, I don't think I can, Harry!"
"Just open it!" said Ron 'encouragingly'. Hermione broke the seal, and pulled out her results.
Ancient Runes: 'O'
Arithmancy: 'O'
Transfiguration: 'O'
Potions: 'O'
Charms: 'O'
Herbology: 'O'
Defence Against the Dark Arts: 'A'
"Well?" asked Harry.
"Mostly 'O's," she replied, sounding down. "I got an 'A' in Defence Against the Dark Arts. But it's a pass, right? I'll be fine." She didn't sound it. She sounded truly upset by the 'A'.
She left the room, looking like she wanted to cry. Harry and Ron looked at each other awkwardly. They never knew how to react whenever someone started crying. Especially when that someone was their best friend.
"Hermione, get over it," consoled Ron three hours later in Diagon Alley.
"It's easy for you to say!" she snapped. "I have never gotten lower than an 'E'!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" said Ron, looking offended.
"Only that I have a reputation! I just don't understand it! Even you managed an 'E' for the O.W.L.s!"
"What do you mean 'even me'?"
"Stop it, you two," intervened Harry. Not that it worked. The two continued arguing furiously all the way to Madam Malkin's Robe for All Occasions.
Even then, they still wouldn't speak to each other properly. And, to make their day even better, none other than Pansy Parkinson was in Madam Malkin's.
She screwed up her nose in disgust when the three Gryffindors entered the shop.
"God, the scent of a Mudblood really puts you off this place, doesn't it, Millicent?" she said loudly to her friend, Millicent Bulstrode.
"Absolutely. Why can't they just crawl away and die? God knows, this place would be cleaner," agreed Millicent.
Harry and Ron looked furious. "Take that back," Harry said furiously.
"Oh, dear, I think Saint Potter hear me," gushed Pansy, pretending to sound scared.
"Don't worry, Pansy, Draco will be here soon. He'll sort them out," consoled Millicent.
"I wasn't being serious, you idiot!" scolded Pansy. Millicent looked like she had been slapped, but said nothing.
"You know, what, I don't actually need to get these robes now, Harry," whispered Hermione. Unfortunately, Millicent heard.
"I think you've scared her off, Pansy," smirked Millicent. Pansy gave a cackled laugh, glad that she'd won that particular battle.
"What did you have to do that for, Hermione?" moaned Ron as soon as they'd left the shop.
"What?"
"Saying that when you know that's exactly what they want! They're Slytherins, for God's sake! Don't you realise that!"
"I think what you don't realise, Ronald, was that Pansy and Millicent weren't the only two there! Daphne Greengrass was behind us, and she looked ready to hex your arse off!" Harry and Ron looked shocked. It wasn't like Hermione to swear like that, especially in public. "So before you accuse me of 'giving them what they want', maybe you should ask me why!"
She stormed off, down the street without looking back.
"Was there someone else there?" Ron asked Harry, staring after Hermione.
"Didn't see anyone," Harry admitted, but thinking Hermione was probably right. Ron, not acknowledging this, gave a satisfied 'well, yeah', and stalked off.
'What a bloody fantastic day this is turning out to be,' thought Harry, following his friends.
He had a good idea where to look for Hermione. Sure enough, she was in Flourish and Blotts, buying her schoolbooks. There was nothing strange about that, except he never even saw a glimpse of 'Advanced Defence Magic' by Griselda Whitmarsh. It was on his list.
"Hey, Mione, why didn't you get the 'Advanced Defence Magic'?"
"It wasn't on my list. Why, was it on yours?" she demanded. Harry didn't know what to say.
"Show me your list," she demanded, looking somewhat scared. Harry reluctantly handed his list over. Her eyes quickly scanned over the paper, and gave a strangled cry.
"It's probably a mistake," he said hurriedly, to try and console her.
"Don't be stupid, Harry!" she snapped, tears starting to fill her brown eyes. "Since when has Dumbledore been known to make mistakes! Anyway, it's there in black-and-white on your list 'Advanced Defence Magic', note; subject only applicable to those with grade 'E' or above!" She paused, as though the news was only starting to wash over her.
"I failed," she whispered sadly. "Six years of taking this subject, and I failed! How did this happen, Harry? Or maybe I'm just too thick to be an Auror! Of course, I am! I only ever got the idea because a bloody Death Eater recommended it! How stupid have I been!"
She slumped against the wall, wrapping her arms round her knees, and nothing Harry could say would cheer her up.
Meanwhile, a very similar argument was taking place only metres away; at the back of Flourish and Blotts.
"What are you getting that for?" asked Draco, pointing to the book in Phoenix's hands; Advanced Defence Magic by Griselda Whitmarsh.
"It's on my book list," she replied.
"But it's not on mine. Let's see it," he said, snatching her list. Phoenix sighed.
"It must be a mistake."
"Why?"
"Well, because, I'm not required to get it, and I got an 'A'."
"But it says here; subject only applicable to those with 'E' grades or above," Phoenix pointed out.
"But you never even took the goddamn exam!"
"Narcissa said they'd make allowances. I guess this is one of them," Phoenix replied coolly, trying to move away.
"Why would they make allowances? It's a bloody difficult subject, and you're-"
"Yes?" she whispered dangerously.
"You've only been a witch for two days!"
"Uh, I beg to differ! I've been a witch all my life, I just didn't know it!"
"Same thing. You're not capable!"
"Oh, and I guess you're qualified to make that assessment, 'Mr I Got An A'?"
"How dare you bring that up! People are listening!"
"Oh my God, that's what you care about? Not the fact that you apparently failed a subject?"
"Shut up! You'll never get further than the first lesson!" he snapped, turning away from her.
"Oh, really? May I remind you that I managed to stop myself getting killed two days earlier! If that's not good defence, please tell me what is!"
"Bella did that!"
"She didn't! She just helped me escape!" They both began breathing heavily. "You've been in luxury all your life, got everything you wanted all your life, known who you were all your life! And I think I've been acting pretty okay with that information! I coud have resented you for having everything! So, why do you have to resent me for getting onto a course? It's not my fault! I don't even know where I'm going, let alone how the goddamn booklists work out! Why can't you be glad I got in?"
"Because I'm a Slytherin! A pure-blood! We don't get happy for each other, we get jealous!"
"Wait, Slytherin? Pure-blood? What are you talking about?"
"A Slytherin is a member of Slytherin house at the school! A pure-blood is someone with both parents from wizarding families! You're a pure-blood!"
"But am I, Draco? Sure, my mother might be a witch, but I haven't got the first freakin' clue who my dad is! I could be a... half for all I know." Draco said nothing. "But why would that even matter? Whether someone's a half? Or do you resent them?"
"The half-bloods aren't the problem."
"All right, then, the Muggles?"
"They're just an inconvenience."
"So who do you hate, then? It's obviously someone."
"We despise the Mudbloods!"
"Who?"
"Someone with Muggle parents. Oh, and don't even get me started on the Squibs! Wizarding parents, no magic themselves," he explained to her blank look. She nodded, understanding him. "The Mudbloods are just so-impure! There's no point to them! They're freaks of nature!"
"Bloody hell! I figured you'd have to have some sort of ridiculous pet-hate, y'know being practically nobility, but this is so fucking shallow I wouldn't have thought you capable of it!" She stalked off to go and retrieve the rest of her books.
'Women!' Draco thought furiously. 'She just doesn't understand! Oh, she will soon, though.' He grinned at the thought. It would be nice to have a new sidekick to taunt Mudbloods with. All Crabbe and Goyle did was grunt, and Pansy's remarks were so unoriginal. At least Phoenix seemed to have a brain on her.
He set out to follow her, but she was nowhere to be seen at the front of the shop, nor could he see her upstairs. She must have left. 'On her own?' he thought disbelievingly. Maybe she wasn't so smart.
"I'm here, if you're looking for me," she said, tapping his shoulder.
"I wasn't. Don't flatter yourself."
"Right, so you were looking all lost because you couldn't find One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi were you?" He glared at her, before muttering; "I've already got a copy." She grinned, and went up to the counter to pay for the books. Draco had given her some money from the Malfoy vault for school supplies etc.
They wandered outside, and came face-to-face with Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass.
"Dracky!" Pansy cried, throwing her arms round him, causing him to stumble backwards. Phoenix smirked at this 'touching reunion'. Millicent looked bored, and Daphne was positively fuming. "Have you missed me, Dracky?" Pansy gushed.
"Not since I saw you two weeks ago," Draco groaned. Pansy changed her expression to one of mock hurt.
"I'm insulted, Draco," she said.
"Good," he muttered.
"Oh, Draco, don't be like that! You know I'm only joking! Draco?" Draco had started trying to walk off, but Pansy caught up with him easily, and wrapped her arms from behind round his neck.
"So sad!" muttered Daphne fiercely.
"Aww, I think it's sweet," said Millicent, watching them with awed eyes.
"Only cos you couldn't get Goyle to go out with you! This is the closest to romance you'll ever get" retorted Daphne. Millicent's eyes flashed with hurt, but she said nothing. "And who are you?" she demanded, to Phoenix.
"Phoenix, you?"
"Daphne," she replied, almost surprised at the other girl's cool tone. "How do you know 'Dracky'?" Phoenix grinned.
"Through family."
"Oh. I didn't know Draco had any other family, other than his aunt and uncle. Where do you come in?"
"Cousin," she replied, her eye catching someone.
"Draco doesn't have any cousins," argued Millicent.
"He does now," replied Phoenix, not really paying attention.
Pansy and Draco had returned, hand-in-hand. It seemed Pansy had finally pushed him so far he'd caved. He didn't look very happy though.
"Draco, who's she?" said Pansy, trying apparently to be quiet and subtle, but failing miserably.
"She is his cousin Phoenix," Daphne replied for him.
"You don't have any cousins, Draco," Pansy argued.
"Well, it seems I do. Unless you're trying to tell me you know her family history better than her own mother," Draco retorted, sighing
"You're Bellatrix's child?" Phoenix nodded, wondering why it was such an issue to these people. 'Ah, of course. I doubt illegitimate children exactly follow the guidelines of how to be a good pure-blood witch,' she realised.
"Pansy Parkinson," she introduced herself, extending her free hand. Phoenix took it. 'Parkinson? Where have I heard that name before?'
"So, you must be Phoenix Lestrange?"
She shook her head. "No, Phoenix Melody."
"Really? I thought you were Bellatrix's child? Draco, I'm confused!"
"What about? She said her last name was 'Melody'. What's confusing?"
"Bellatrix's maiden name was 'Black'."
"So?"
"How did she end up with the last name 'Melody'?"
"Don't even go there. It is so complicated," intervened Phoenix. Pansy didn't look ready to give in, but one warning look from Draco shut her up. Suddenly, Draco remembered something.
"Hey, it's her birthday," he announced.
"Oh, is it?" gushed Pansy, while Millicent nodded along excitedly. Daphne looked bored.
"We have to take you to Madam Malkin's, get you some gorgeous dress robes. Our treat," Pansy announced, breaking links with Draco, and stepping up to Phoenix.
"I never agreed to that," came Millicent's voice.
"Excuse me?" said Pansy.
"I mean, I just don't have a lot of money left, and I-"
"Oh, for goodness sake, Millicent, I think you'll manage with only ten ice creams instead of twenty today!" Daphne snapped.
"She's right, you know," Pansy agreed, rounding on Millicent.
"You know, it's okay, you really don' t have to," said Phoenix.
"Oh, yes we do! It's a tradition. Come on, you'll love it there!" argued Pansy, taking her by the hand, and leading her down the street, Daphne catching up with them to join in the 'making a fuss', while Millicent reluctantly followed them, but keeping her distance.
Draco couldn't help but laugh as his cousin was dragged off for a 'birthday treat'. He had had enough of these 'treats' from Pansy to know that, unless she was either a desperate wannabe or had three brain cells, she was in for a 'scarring afternoon'.
They caught up with Ron, as Harry had suspected, outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, eyeing the new racing broom, drooling slighlty. Hermione thought he looked ridiculous, but couldn't summon the energy to say so.
"Hey, Ron," greeted Harry.
"All right, Harry?" he returned, and nodded politely at Hermione, who managed a small smile.
"You got everything?" Harry asked, trying to break the ice.
"Harry, we've only just got here, mate. I haven't checked my booklist yet," laughed Ron. At the sound of the word 'booklist', Hermione's eyes began to water up.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" Ron asked, concerned. She shook her head, and fumbled for a tissue in her pocket. "Has someone upset you? Was it me? Because you should just ignore that, I was being a prat!" Hermione didn't even crack a smile.
Ron looked persistant. "Oh, it's silly!" she finally muttered.
"Obviously not that silly." Ron argued, draping a comforting arm round her. "What's wrong?"
"Really, Ron, it doesn't matter. It's nothing you can do anything about."
"Try me."
"Look, you're in the same boat as me, so honestly, there's nothing you can do!" Ron looked at Harry, for answers, who looked away, really not wanting to be involved. One one hand, there was his best mate who hated being left in the dark. On the other, he didn't want to betray Hermione.
"Well, isn't this precious!" giggled a high-pitched voice. Harry turned, and saw Pansy ambling up towards them with Millicent Bulstrode, and two girls he didn't know. He supposed one of them was Daphne Greengrass.
One of the other girls was looking moody, and bored to tears. The other was looking uncomfortable. She caught his eye, and suddenly a searing pain shot through his scar.
"Granger and Weasley! A Mudblood and a blood-traitor! What a perfect coupling!" Pansy screeched, Millicent laughing so hard she looked like she would fall down, the moody girl cracking a small smile, the other making no reaction.
"Daphne, what do you think. Sick, or what?" Pansy turned on the moody girl's opinion.
"Definitely sick! Then again, what other girl would have Weasley!" Daphne retorted, making Pansy and Millicent cackle with laughter again.
"Piss off!" shouted Ron.
"Oooh! I think he's getting angry!" giggled Pansy, taunting them further. "Oops, shouldn't have done that, should I? He might set his rat on me!" Millicent screeched with laughter.
"Oh, wait he can't! Didn't he turn out to be one the Dark Lord's sidekicks? The one who led the attack that killed Potter's godfather!" Harry looked livid. He was about to say something when;
"Shut the hell up, you stupid bitch!" got there first. Hermione was stomping towards them, her face flushed. "You've only got sidekicks because you're 'pure-blood' and rich! Without that, you'd have nothing! You're ugly, you're a slut and I can't think of anyone who actually likes you!" Pansy looked horrified.
"How dare you talk to her like that, Mudblood!" said Millicent, looking angry.
"Oh, need your even uglier friends to fight your wars now, do you? What's the matter, Parkinson? Can't take on a 'Mudblood' on your own?" retorted Hermione, staring Pansy in the face.
Normally Ron would have called her off by now, but he was suddenly looking at her as though in a new light.
Pansy was reaching for her wand, when Draco's voice was heard; "What's going on here? Are you rising to the Mudblood's bait, Parkinson?" Pansy stuffed her wand away, looking embarrassed.
"No," she lied. Draco looked like he didn't believe her, but took her hand, and led her away. Millicent was right at their heel, leaving the Gryffindors versus Daphne and Phoenix. Daphne just gave them a disgusted look, then stalked off, following her friends.
"Maybe you should tell your best friend Parkinson-" Ron began
"I'm not a messenger," Phoenix replied. They just stood there for a few minutes, before Hermione finally said; "Let's go."
There was one thing that bugged Phoenix; the boy who hadn't said anything at all-she was sure she recognised him.
Harry felt the same as he walked off with Ron and Hermione. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he had definitely seen her before.
The afternoon, despite their 'differences' was a pleasant one. Ron and Hermione had made up again since their dispute earlier with Pansy, Millicent, Daphne and 'their latest clone'. In Harry's personal opinion, he thought she looked like the least one likely to be a clone, but said nothing. He had never been very good at judging people.
When he was younger, he stupidly thought his Aunt and Uncle would be all 'such a tragic accident. We should make it up to him as much as possible by at least treating him with as much affection as Dudders.'
When he'd first met Hermione, he'd thought she was quite pompous, and secretly agreed with Ron in first year when he'd said; "she's a nightmare, honestly! No wonder she hasn't got any friends!" But living with Petunia and Vernon for eleven years had taught him how to be tactful.
They were currently at Florean Fortescue's cafe, which in Harry's opinion, sold the best ice cream ever. And he often got them on the house because he was 'the hero that will get us all through this dark patch'. Florean even went as far to say 'and where would a hero be without his loyal, faithful, brave friends?' handing Ron and Hermione a free cone each. Naturally, they didn't complain.
Unfortunately, their visit was ruined about halfway through by the arrival of Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and the rest of them. As soon as Pansy saw them, she sighed and said; "Draco, what are they doing here?", as though he told them to be there. Unfazed, Draco calmly, but firmly, told Pansy to 'shut up'.
"You know what, I've had enough of Mudbloods, blood-traitors and celebrities for one day, so I'm just gonna go," announced Daphne. "Anyone coming?" Millicent looked tempted, but nothing could tear her away from her ice cream, so declined. Pansy, however, decided she'd also had enough, and went off with Daphne, leaving Draco, Phoenix and Millicent, who was hurriedly counting her money to see how many ice-creams she could afford.
"What do you want?" Draco turned to Phoenix.
"Dunno! What have they got?" replied Phoenix, walking up to the counter, and reading the board. She eventually chose a yoghurt flavoured one, topped with chocolate. Draco had a plain chocolate one, and Millicent got a triple cone with mint topped with vanilla, strawberry topped with chocolate and nut topped with banana.
"Where have I seen him before?" Phoenix questioned out loud, staring at Harry.
"Bloody hell, don't tell me even Muggles have heard of Saint Potter," sighed Draco.
"'Saint Potter'? Are you jealous, Draco?" Phoenix teased, smirking. Draco scowled at her.
"Absolutely not! Why would I be jealous of him? You said yourself I had everything."
"When did I say that?"
"At the bookshop. You said you could have resented me for having everything."
"That was just my anger talking. And why would Muggles have heard of him, anyway?"
"He's Harry Potter! The git's famous," Draco said in a disbelieving tone.
"Is he? Wow, what'd he do?"
"He-how do you know him then?"
"I'm not sure. I think I might have-gone to school with him at one point," Phoenix said, thinking hard.
"School?"
"Yeah, we start school when we're five. Don't know wy. What age did you start?"
"Eleven, but that's not the point, you actually know him? Properly?"
"Sure, that's right. We were friends when we were about eight. He was one of the only ones who'd talk to me," Phoenix smiled.
Draco muttered something under his breath, which sounded distinctly like 'can't imagine why'.
"Hey!"
"Damn, did you hear that?"
"Yes. And I was going to offer to get you another ice cream, but I won't bother now."
"Wouldn't need to anyway. I have enough money. Besides, it's your birthday-damnit!" She turned.
"What?"
"I have something I need to do. I'll be back soon. Just stay with Millicent."
"Actually, I'm taking off," they heard Millicent, mumble, standing up. "Mother said I couldn't stay out later than three, and it's quarter to, so I'd better go."
"It's quarter to two," Phoenix pointed out.
"I get out of breath easy," Millicent argued, then rambled off.
"You'd think she could find a more subtle way to say she didn't want to hang out with me," said Phoenix, turning to Draco. He wasn't there. "Damnit," she muttered. If there was one thing Phoenix hated, it was being seen alone in public.
Suddenly Harry gasped. Hermione and Ron turned to him.
"What's up, mate?"
"I recognise her now! You remember that attack Dumbledore told us about yesterday?" They nodded. "They said that a sixteen-year old girl was involved. If you remember, Ron, I told you I'd dreamt the whole thing."
"You did?" fussed Hermione. "Why didn't you tell anyone, Harry? Why didn't you tell the Or-"
"Shh!" shushed Harry. "Anyone could be listening. Anyway, that's her."
"What?" asked Hermione, confused. "Harry, how could you possibly know that? It could have been anyone."
"It wasn't the first time I'd seen her. I knew her, but I just couldn't remember who she was."
"And who is she?"
"I went to school with her, when we were about eight. She was the only one who'd talk to me. And that is definitely the same girl who was attacked the other night!"
"Okay, well, supposing you're right, what's she doing with Malfoy? His Dad's probably the one who led the attack!" Harry shrugged.
"I should go and talk to her," he muttered, getting up.
"Harry, no! It's not worth it. What if Malfoy came back?"
"I'm not scared of him, I'm still going."
"Harry!" He ignored her, and headed towards Phoenix's table. "I might have known you'd take his side."
"What?" Ron said.
"You! You're always taking his side!"
"I didn't say anything!"
"You don't need to. It was obvious you thought he was right!"
"What is the matter with you?"
"Me? Nothing. Unless you're talking to a mirror!"
Harry heard them squabbling all the way over to her table. His heart began beating fast. It was like this when he was talking to Cho, but he thought here it was more fear of the unknown than lust.
"Hi," he greeted.
"Hey," she replied, looking up at him. She knew for sure it was him. One thing she remembered about him was that he had a funny lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
"This is going to sound really stupid, but did you ever go to Little Whingeing Primary? In Surrey?" She nodded, almost not daring to believe he remembered her. "You do? Thank God, I thought I was making a right prat of myself. I mean, not that I'm not being a prat, but-"
She grinned; "Stop being so nervous. I remember you."
"Really? And I thought it was just me with the exceptionally long memory. Quite sad, really." He took a seat opposite her.
"I think what's sad is that we haven't seen each other for nearly ten years after being best friends."
"Well, yeah, that, too," he agreed.
"So how you been doing? Your cousin still an arsehole?" He shrugged, grinning.
"Not so much, actually. I just need to threaten him with magic, and he'll go running off to his tough mates to 'beat me up'. They never do, he just thinks it'll scare me. What about you?" She was hoping they wouldn't get to that.
"Um, you know, normal," she lied.
"I didn't know you were a witch as well. How come I've never seen you at Hogwarts?"
"Took them a while to trace me."
"Really? They managed to trace me when I was living out on a rock in the middle of the North Sea!" She looked confused, then laughed.
"Do I even need to ask?"
"My Uncle thought that would be the best way to confuse them. It just made them send someone personally." She laughed along with him. He turned serious. "Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened."
"What do you mean?" she asked, wondering if he meant what she thought he meant.
"About your foster parents, I-"
"How do you know about that? Is it in the tabloids, cos I've looked all over, and-"
"No, no. The Daily Prophet hasn't got hold of it yet," he assured her.
"So how do you know?" Harry took a deep breath, and was about to say, when a nasty drawl could be heard behind him;
"Potter, what are you doing? Trying to get another member for your fan club?"
Harry glared at Malfoy.
"I'm guessing no introduction's necessary," said Phoenix, making Harry smile.
"Well, obviously I'd better go. But, I'll see you at Hogwarts?"
"Of course." He smiled, then joined Ron and Hermione.
"Why were you talking to him?" Draco asked immediately.
"He just came over and started talking. And I know him," she replied, making eye contact. He sighed, then sat back down.
"Here, I got you something."
"Really? You didn't have to do that," she said, blushing slightly. He smirked.
"Yeah I did, it's your birthday." She blushed again, but smiled. She suddenly noticed the strange object he was carrying.
"Is that-" He nodded, handing it to her. She nervously pulled off the cover, to reveal a beautiful, graceful black eagle owl, with bright amber eyes.
"We use them as a postal service. Bloody good one. And don't worry, she's domestic trained," Draco said, trying to read her expression.
"Oh, Draco, she's gorgeous, I love her. Thank you!" she gushed, reaching over to hug him. He returned the hug, un-self-consciously.
Phoenix remembered that she said that her last birthday had been perfect in every way. And it was. But this one was just-so much better.
For the first time in her life, she was celebrating it with family.
