Chapter the Eleventh: The First Lesson

"Mr. Malfoy, are you aware of your father's role during the last Wizarding War?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"The last Wizarding War? I thought it was the only Wizarding War!" Draco responded.

"So far, Mr. Malfoy, so far; but that is certainly not an answer to my question. Do you have one?"

"Umm…well…I know about some things, but they haven't really told me much. Between you and I, Professor, my father did support You-Know-Who. Saying he'd been Imperiused-"

"Was an excuse, yes, and a common one at that. Many people escaped Azkaban with that excuse, and it's a load of rubbish in nearly every case, your father's included!"

"If you know all of this, why did you want to talk to me?"

"If you do not know already, you have a right to know…before you need to know."

"Know what?" he asked quickly, but she only pursed her lips.

"You think we'll have another war," Draco stated. McGonagall paused. She sat at her desk and clasped her hands together.

"Yes, Draco. I believe that we are going to have another war in the Wizarding World." She spoke calmly but Draco heard her voice shake.

"Do you think…?" he began, and then stopped himself.

"Yes, Draco?"

"Do you think that You-Know-Who is going to come back?"

"Draco-"

She paused again and took a few deep breaths. A moment later, she raced out of her classroom - in tabby cat form - then returned with Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore sat himself at the head of the desk, and McGonagall jumped onto the desk itself.

"I am terribly sorry, Draco, that you are one of the many children who will remember their youth in such a negative light. Now, what I am about to tell you, you must share with no one. Can you promise me that, Draco?"

"Yes, sir," Draco agreed, curious but afraid, knowing that McGonagall seemed afraid herself, of sharing this information with him.

"Last year, our world was in shambles at the escape of Sirius Black. Do you know why Sirius Black was put in Azkaban?"

"He murdered a ton of people…that's all I heard."

"Mr. Black was believed to be the Secret-Keeper of two members of an organisation that I created to oppose Lord Voldemort."

Draco shuddered at Dumbledore's fearless use of Voldemort's full name.

"He was believed to have divulged their location to Lord Voldemort, allowing Him to track them down and murder them, in search of their son."

"The Potters," Draco immediately realised.

"Yes, Draco, the Potters. Last year everyone was especially worried because Black is also Harry's Godfather, and it was feared that he would try to contact Harry. My colleagues and I...we were extremely worried as well. However, by the year's end, we discovered that Sirius Black had been framed for the crimes of another of the Potters' friends, who had in fact been their Secret-Keeper, and had in fact revealed to Lord Voldemort their location. This man, Peter Pettigrew, had been part of a sort of posse that James Potter, Harry's father, had while in school, one of which your former professor Remus Lupin was a part, actually. Now, in this group, composed of Harry's father along with his friends Sirius, Remus, and Peter, were three very talented wizards."

"I'm guessing Pettigrew's the other one."

"Yes, yes. Despite his challenges, however, he was able to learn to perform the Animagus transformation along with two of his friends. Do you have any guess as to what his Animagus form may be, Draco?"

"Are they supposed to correlate to a person's personality?" he asked Dumbledore. "Because I've never met a cat like Professor McGonagall before. Except for, well, Professor McGonagall."

"No offence, Professor. You're a wonderful cat. And Professor. Although I don't think you would teach quite as well as a cat," he added to McGonagall.

"They are supposed to," Dumbledore replied with a chuckle. "But I will not make you guess. Pettigrew's Animagus is a rat. Inside their group, his nickname was Wormtail."

Draco's hand flew to his gaping mouth. "Wormtail?"

"You have heard this name before."

"At the Quidditch Cup…we were in a tent with a bunch of other people…I heard them mention a Wormtail a few times…I remember someone saying that he'd taken over for Quirinius…I didn't understand what any of it meant so I brushed most of it off…usually they'd have been talking about work at the Ministry…the rest of them were pardoned for being Death Eaters, too…"

Professor Dumbledore took a very deep breath, grabbing both arms of the chair as though to brace himself.

"Minerva," he said softly. She jumped back off the desk, becoming human again in mid-air.

"Albus," she replied at a near whisper.

"I'm missing something, Professor," Draco said shakily.

"Yes, Draco, I believe you are," Dumbledore said immediately. "Do you remember from your first year, what you heard about Professor Quirrell and Harry?"

"Professor Quirrell attacked Harry and then he had to leave the school. That's all I really remember."

"Very well. You remember Professor Quirrell's turban, I presume?"

"Yes, sir."

"Underneath that turban was something which no one should ever see. Underneath that turban was where Lord Voldemort hid after losing his powers that tragic night in Godric's Hollow. He was unable to retain his own physical form; however, what was left of whatever supposed soul of his…lives on, as long as there is a physical being who wishes to submit themselves to it, which was what Professor Quirrell, whose given name is Quirinius, did. If Pettigrew has replaced him, we can assume…"

"that You-Know-Who is living inside Pettigrew?"

"A horrid half-life, yes."

"Is there any way for him to…you know…get another body?"

"Yes, there is. However, it is extremely graphic and you have heard quite enough, at least for a single evening," interjected Professor McGonagall protectively. She grabbed the back of Draco's jacket and yanked him up from the chair, looking sternly at Dumbledore.

"Should I get Severus or shall I take him myself?"

"Get yourself a good night's sleep, Minerva. A restful cat nap at the least," Dumbledore replied, winking at her in an attempt to get her to relax. "I will escort Mr. Malfoy to the dungeons."

Dumbledore motioned for Draco to walk beside him as they left McGonagall's classroom and walked down the staircases to the dungeon floor.

"Professor?" Draco asked weakly as they neared his common room.

"Yes, Draco?"

"If…well, when, I guess…You-Know-Who comes back, do you think he'll want my father to work for him again? And what - what about me?"

"I think he will want the loyalty of both your father and your aunt, Draco. I do not know what he will expect of you, and I will not pretend to."

"My aunt? But isn't she-"

"In Azkaban? Yes…"

"For now," Draco finished.

"For now," Dumbledore repeated. Draco shivered, staring at the floor for a moment, then hesitantly asking Dumbledore, "Your…organisation…what does it do?"

"Not much, right now. The Order of the Phoenix has been rather inactive for quite some time now."

"Since Vol- since You-Know-Who disappeared?"

"Yes."

"How large is it? I mean, do you have about the same number of people as there are Death Eaters?"

"Roughly, but Lord Voldemort has other recruits as well. Not everyone who works for him has the…privilege…of being a Death Eater."

"Privilege?"

"It's considered one, in your part of the world, Draco. You'd do best to remember that."

"Why? Because my family is-"

"Your family is a major part of that world. The Malfoy family and the Black family identities are two of the strongholds of modern...racist pureblood culture."

"Racist?"

"Racism refers to discrimination based on one's race; in our case, that's defined by blood purity. It's a mostly...muggle...word, if you couldn't tell."

"My family certainly fits that definition, then," Draco affirmed. Dumbledore almost chuckled.

"Draco...your family is the definition. Among others, yes, but the Malfoy family is really the only family which has managed to retain influence in both Voldemort's ranks and regular Wizarding society. If there is any change to happen, your family will be relied on, either way. The world is watching you, perhaps as closely as it is watching Harry."

"Are you saying that I have that influence as well?"

"Yes, Draco, I am."

"But I don't see-"

"Not right now, you don't. But wait. In a few years' time, your alliances will matter."

"My alliances? Wouldn't I just be allied with-"

"Your father's allies?"

"Yes..."

"Right now, that's what the world sees. But you'll be a man someday, too, and you will be able to stand on your own. Someday, people will see that your actions are separate from your father's. You will have your own decisions to make, and you will bear the consequences of those decisions. I do not doubt that you will do a great many things your father never would dare to attempt, Draco."

"How do you-"

"You will learn when the time is right, Draco. Good night," Dumbledore said, and continued down the corridor, leaving Draco standing by the door to the Slytherin common room, pursing his lips, furrowing his eyebrows, and shaking his head in confusion.