Okay, well, finals week and SATs are over for me...I can relax a little more now.

I was planning to combine this one with the next chapter but I felt kind of bad for making you guys wait any longer so...here's what I have so far to occupy the wait.

Winter break at the Malfoys'

"Father, are you sure you do not know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?" Draco asked.

"For the last time, Draco, no, I do not. I have already told you everything I know," his father snapped.

His mother was more forgiving. "Darling, there is no need to be angry," she said. "I am sure our son is simply curious."

"Why he is still curious is a mystery," Lucius growled. "I've told you not to go sticking your nose into others' business."

Clearly, this wasn't going to get him anywhere. Time for a few Slytherin tactics.

"I apologize, Father," he said formally. "With the knowledge of Theodore Nott's attack –"

"That child brought it upon himself," his father scoffed. "He went looking for trouble, walking around corners with that mirror. He was always a silly child – I've told his father numerous times that he was raising his offspring too softly."

Draco showed no emotion, but on the inside, he was burning. He knew that his father had a tendency to act a bit cold and arrogant at times – but was that really necessary? Now, his father was actually cruelly rebuking a good family friend, whose son was currently lying Petrified in the hospital wing at school.

And the entire thing at the beginning of the year, with the fight with Mr. Weasley and the argument with Artemis' father in the bookstore in Diagon Alley had already unnerved him and made him doubt some of the things that he had been taught as a child. Of course he still respected his father; that was expected from any son. And it wasn't as if his father was abusive; on the contrary, Draco knew himself to be a spoiled child (though his Lucius Malfoy wasn't as overprotective as Narcissa, thank goodness). But just because that was so didn't mean that he had to agree with every single cotton-picking thing his father thought, right? Right?

Heck, other boys his age blatantly argued with their parents all the time. Draco knew better than to talk back rudely to an authoritative parental figure. But it couldn't hurt to deviate from schooled thought every once in a while and think for himself. It wasn't as if he was being rebellious. Being a mindless sheep and taking everything he was told at face value, for granted, well, that just didn't suit him.

Speaking of Artemis' father, hadn't he disappeared off the face of the earth two years ago? And yet, he had been there that day, perfectly alive and healthy – and happy. And he seemed perfectly, well, nice, too (even though Artemis Fowl Sr. had snarked his own father later…Draco felt bad for actually thinking that his father deserved it).

And what was it with the Weasleys and his father, anyway? All right, Ronald Weasley was a bit annoying sometimes, but he could be nice when he needed to be, too. And Percy Weasley was an arrogant fool who thought that he was the greatest wizard on earth since Merlin solely because he was a Prefect. And that girl (what was her name, anyway? Minny? Winnie?) was a bit odd. But why his father always called them scum...Draco didn't really know why. This entire time he just took for granted that they were scum, only he had never thought about the reasons. It seemed like the only excuse was that they were poor. Now and then, the topic of being "blood traitors" came up.

Those terms were holding less and less significance to Draco every single day.

Though the others hadn't known, Draco had been observing both the Weasley family that day, and they were so warm and loving and friendly, if somewhat dysfunctional, whereas his own was so formal and cold. Sure, the Malfoys never, ever, had arguments or disagreements, but that was because...well, there was no room for argument or disagreement. Not against Lucius Malfoy.

He actually felt…jealous.

Which was silly. Draco had everything he needed in front of his face.

But still.

Even though Draco had won the Quidditch match against Harry Potter (the only thing that the other was actually exceptional at, for now), Lucius still was not pleased. In fact, his father had remarked, shortly after, "You barely won, Draco. I have provided you with a faster broom, and the other boy actually had a rogue Bludger – (here he paused to glare at poor Dobby, who had shrunk under his gaze) – flying at him, and you still barely managed to win."

But he was getting off topic. Draco snapped himself out of his daydream and pulled himself back together. His father wasn't going to talk, was he? Well, maybe different tactics were in order.

"However, the rumors have circulated at Hogwarts that Fowl is actually the Heir of Slytherin," he said, switching his tone of conversation entirely. "Which is a complete and utter pile of rubbish, in my opinion. If I knew who the real Heir was, I'd help him." …drown himself in a pool of acid.

Lucius seemed both amused and concerned at the same time. "Stay away from Fowl, Draco. He comes from a dangerous family and it would not do you well to associate with those lowly thieves."

Draco didn't bother mentioning that he was already associating with Artemis.

Lucius suddenly became very focused on his meal, and refused to say another word.

Well, that was useless. Looks like Father is going to stubbornly keep his mouth shut. If only I could read minds.

They finished dinner in silence.

Later, he caught Dobby and whispered, "Are you sure you can't tell me a thing about that Chamber of Secrets?"

The elf only shook his head pitifully and began to struggle. "Quiet, Dobby! Don't let my Father hear –"

"Master Lucius forbade Dobby – Dobby is sorry, Master Draco – Dobby cannot say!" the elf squeaked agitatedly, pulling his ears.

"Shhh! Listen, Dobby, you have to tell me at least something!" Suddenly, Draco had an spark of genius. "It's for Harry Potter – he's my friend!"

Dobby's eyes widened and dilated more than normal. "Harry – Harry Potter, sir?"

"Yes. Please, Dobby? Please? I'm sorry I was mean to you all those years before. If you tell me now, I'll make it up to you somehow; I'll even slip you those Brussels sprouts and let you out sometimes, please, Dobby?"

(Draco had never liked Brussels sprouts. They were his least favorite food, and to him they always tasted like those nasty health potions, no matter how finely or exquisitely his mother claimed they had been prepared. But for some reason, Dobby loved them with his entire heart and soul. Thus, Draco and Dobby had had a secret mutual relationship - Draco would secretly slip Brussels sprouts underneath the table during dinner whenever they had any, and Dobby would secretly eat them for him. Due to years of experience, Draco had long since managed to master the fine art of disposing of those devilish sprouts in an efficient and surreptitious way such that even his mother's sharp eagle eyes could not catch.)

Dobby was losing his composure. He managed to whisper into Draco's ear, "Master Lucius – diary – get rid of Professor Dumbledore – can't say more!" The elf immediately sprinted off and began banging his head into the wall.

"Dobby, what on earth is that racket?" Lucius Malfoy peered around the corridor.

"Oh, nothing, Father," Draco said nonchalantly. "I simply informed the elf that he has failed to clean my room properly, and, instead of being sensible and shutting his ears in the oven, which would have no doubt been more quiet, he instead decided to draw unneeded attention to himself in this way."

Lucius glared at Dobby. "Very well, then. Carry on, Dobby."

The elf smacked his head into the wall several more times before Lucius Malfoy turned and walked away, and kept punishing himself for several minutes after the Malfoy patriarch had left before he ceased and looked up at Draco with a meek, grateful wince. "Master Draco is kind to Dobby."

"No, thank you, Dobby."

As soon as Draco got into his room, he almost collapsed on the ground.

So his father had something to do with this.

Draco leaned back in the plush chair on the balcony outside his bedroom.

What Dobby had told him troubled his mind bitterly.

On one hand...what was going on was wrong. People were going to get killed. But Draco couldn't just rat out his father like that! No matter what had happened, Draco still owed his father a great deal. His father was responsible for everything the family had at this moment.

Yet thinking about it...if his father truly was responsible for these attacks...

Why would his father do something like that? His father always complained about Professor Dumbledore being tolerant towards Muggle-born students and such, but still...Petrifying and potentially killing off innocent students just to achieve his ends? That was low. He didn't even care about Theodore, and they had known Theodore and his family since...well, since forever!

But this information...it was priceless. Draco just couldn't sit by and let the attacks go on like this! But how was he going to do this without ratting out his own father?

He could just tell Artemis that Dobby had given him a hint about some sort of diary...but then Artemis was bound to figure out that if Dobby knew, then so did Lucius Malfoy.

What was he going to do?

He couldn't sleep.

He couldn't eat, either – he had lost his appetite.

Even the thought of tea made him feel sick.

So, instead, he went out and looked at the stars like his mother used to advise him to do when he couldn't sleep.

Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black, had been named after a stellar formation, as was tradition in her side of the family. She had taken the same tradition for him, too, naming after the constellation of the Dragon, rather than the Latin-based names that were of Malfoy tradition.

"Sometimes, Draco, darling," she had told him, "other people cannot help you rest your mind. The only person to resolve your internal conflict is yourself. Look up in the skies at night – I have named you after the Dragon, do you see? Your name is engraved up there, for all eternity, as long as the skies and space shall exist. Look at yourself in the heavens, child – you will guide your own way and forge your own path."

His mother was so sweet sometimes.

Most of the time, though, she was as cold and haughty like his father.

They expected him to behave in the same way.

His mother had been right – no one but himself could help him now.

So he looked at himself in the sky.

Draco.

But the constellation just sat there, unmoving. How was it supposed to help him?

His high opinion of his father, once so firmly rooted in his belief, was now crumbling.

Before going to school, before meeting Artemis, Draco had always seen firmly in one dimension – the one his father wanted him to see in. But now…

He was amazed at how narrow-minded he had been before.

Killing off Muggle-born wizards and witches – it made him sick. And pretty much all those considered "inferior," even the pureblood children who didn't behave the way that Lucius Malfoy believed that they should behave. A life was a life.

It was ability, not blood, that mattered. Or at least, the way it should have been.

It made his insides churn, that his father could do something like that – pushing everyone else aside in favor of his own silly grudges and goals.

But his father was a reasonable man.

He just needed Draco's help in seeing that…

A/N: We'll return to Hogwarts in the next chapter. Hopefully it gives more insight into what Draco's going through at home.

Even though in the actual books he's a total jerk, I appreciate how he matures and changes so much…he's one of my favorite characters to analyze, next to Snape, because we actually change our perspective on him. He doesn't completely cross to the "good guys side," and he's still kind of a jerk, but considering the fact that pretty much everyone else stays either Bad Guys or Good Guys, that little change was a lot.
Even Snape, who is the only one who crosses over completely, so to speak, is revealed to have been one of the good guys the entire time.

Here, though, it's quicker, thanks to Artemis. I can't help but think that if only Draco had grown up with some other family, like the Weasleys, he could have had so much more to his character.