Draco was cold and hungry in the dark.
At home, his mother was mostly in charge of the family's social arrangements, leaving the culinary duties to Dobby, but from time to time when she wanted, she would buy or conjure the ingredients to one of his or Father's favorite dishes and prepare it herself. Lord Malfoy enjoyed a variety of arrangements including veal tartar and escargot, Draco favoring cordon bleu and croquettes. Attempting to conjure even the simplest fare, he had been met with little success thus far.
He was perfectly aware he could ignite his wand and explore, at any point in the last day or so he would have settled for a rat, but the truth was the place scared him. It was perfectly unlike the Forbidden Forest, it was silent and empty as far as he knew, but the very idea of what lied beyond terrified him into stillness. Aiming a cutter into one of the pipes above him, he had at least managed a supply of drinkable water. In his shivering he had tried the flame charm he knew Granger had performed, but it seemed it was not as simple as most charms, as there was no incantation that he knew.
It had been only moments after Professor Snape left that Quirrell found them, appearing out of nowhere as if he had been invisible. Why else would he be hanging around a girls' toilet- we were fools. Crabbe was quickly disarmed and with a word, the central pillar opened, distracting him as what he now believed to be a banishing charm pushed him down the hole. He knew not whether he was more confused by the word itself or its effect on the room, as he had never heard of a spell of such a nature. Quirrell's traveled around the world- has to know at least a half dozen spells in foreign tongues. He knew from personal experience the Manor was protected by spells from the days of the French Malfoys.
The way his father had explained it, it was not as if the ancient magicks were just better all the time, but that they simply allowed their secrets to die with them, making more than a few old curses, enchantments, and wards essentially unbreakable to the modern wizard. New spells were invented, of course, but such was similarly not outside the abilities of the ancient mages. Draco could only wonder what magic had kept him from escaping his current prison. Try as he might, he could only break the pipes momentarily before they repaired themselves. It must have been something Quirrell did- if he expects to keep me down here, he can hardly allow me to break out. He would have repaired the exterior from where Weasley reduced it to rubble.
He knew the primary reason, or at least one of them, for the Defense professor to come after him was his intention to find the Philosopher's Stone, but there was also the matter of his wand. Somehow Quirrell had taken possession of the wand he had stolen from Alecto, which was the one he used to light up the body next to him, though he only learned that from the fact that it was no longer down there with him. I suppose he might know another way in here. That means there's another way out.
Forcing his pained body to rise, he ignited his wand as brightly as he dared. As near as he could figure, he was in a squat, circular room, and a tunnel-like structure led onward, though it might have been a pipe. In the dark, it was difficult to tell the difference between a tunnel and a large pipe. Keeping his wits about him as his sharpened hearing started to pick up a groaning sound, he did his best to skirt around it, looking for some other way out, but found the pipe in the next room was sealed by a grate. I could try destroying it, but that would be loud and take time. Pressing on took him closer to the sound, which came and went. His breathing was as silent as it had been for the countless hours before.
Coming out of a length of tunnel into a larger room, he discovered rather elaborate masonry sealing the corridor with a pair of intertwined snakes. As there was a line going down the wall behind them, he imagined there was some way of opening it, but it would be more elaborate than any secret switch hidden somewhere. In truth, he was not sure even Quirrell could enter.
Draco turned back.
He found a pipe that was covered by what looked to be years of unidentifiable overgrowth, something he might have missed had he not been looking for it. Improvising Weasley's blasting curse after deciding it was a quick death from whatever lurked down here or a slow death of starvation, he cleared a way and started out, moving as quickly as he could, given his lack of energy. No one was going to come down and save me- not Father, not Dumbledore, none of my dubious new friends if I can call them that.
Surfacing out into a derelict well, bereft of water, he patiently and carefully scaled the cobbled walls, knowing any misstep could mean his death. As he reached a hand out of the well, jostling the stupid bucket above him, he had this odd notion of crawling out of his own grave. Standing at last, he momentarily considered returning to the castle for lunch, even if it meant immediate expulsion. I could try my hand at the color-change spell- no, there's no way I'm masquerading as a Hufflepuff, not under any circumstances. After some effort he turned his tie blue and changed his hair to a nondescript brown. Without any other identifying colors, he decided he was safer than he would be changing too much. Hunching his shoulders like a child trying not to draw attention to himself, he kept a reasonable pace, rather than the dignified, deliberate one he usually assumed along with a proud demeanor.
No one noticed as he entered the castle, though he supposed classes were going on. It was as if he was a stranger in his own home, waiting around for lunch to start, but really there was little else he could do. Even as a first-year sitting with the older students, someone will see that I'm out of place as a Ravenclaw. These classes are too small for my liking. As he went off in search of Professor Snape, hoping to find out what had happened with Dumbledore before lunch started, he thought back to how his father explained the decline of Hogwarts.
"Wizarding families like ours need to sire more young, Draco, but every factor one has to consider goes against it. Your mother and I are quite active in the realm of politics, to have more than one child would be to do you a disservice, as our ability to involve ourselves in your development is little enough as it is. On the other hand, those with no responsibilities- unemployed Muggles-" He almost spat the wine he was sipping as he spoke. "- are at liberty to have as many children as they wish. Worse, their government rewards them for it." He waved a hand. "I shall speak no more on nonmagical politics, your mind is yet young and you must learn to think on your own. All the same, there are things that you must know."
We are being forced off this island. The words rang in his mind as they always did, his light footfalls taking him down the stationary stair. As of nineteen hundred and ninety, Muggle technology turns to increasingly advanced and invasive forms of surveillance. The Head of Slytherin House was speaking with a student and as such he waited outside. We hide in our grand and stately manors, our castles, dour and dark, keeping our numbers down and our voices quiet. He saw the student leave, a boy his size with dark hair.
"You may come in, Draco." came the drawl of the Potions professor.
"Sir- what happened? Where's Quirrell?"
"He has been missing. I presume he has been looking for you, throwing his identity to the wind."
"He's not really Quirrell, is he?" In truth this had long since become obvious, he, Longbottom, Granger, and Weasley only continued to refer to him by that name for lack of a better one. Additionally, they had no idea of the real Quirrell save what they knew from his diary.
"No. The Dark Lord is manipulating his every move." The idea nearly froze him in place. "He has been restricted, as the Headmaster has been keeping him from the mind arts and Hogwarts warding notifies him of dark magic, but he has been active as far as he dares, and he is a daring man indeed."
"Why is he looking for me?"
"You carry his wand- yew and phoenix feather. With or without prior enchantments, Dumbledore would recognize that wand; he already knows it has been used to wreak terrible works of dark magic. Does it respond to you?"
"I've been able to use it. I'd like mine back though; if I am not mistaken it remains in Alecto's possession. Does this mean everyone has been disabused Quirrell is a dark wizard?" Draco asked, stepping back into his usual speech pattern. Of course Professor Snape would recognize me. He's my Head of House, and unless I am twice mistaken, he appreciates me.
"Interesting- three wands, all taken. How was yours taken from you?" I'd really rather not say.
"T-trickery, sir. Alecto is quite exper-"
"You took the Dark Lord's wand by force. How did he take the beech wand from Alecto?"
"He stole it, sir. He must have. I did not see him." he answered honestly. "I don't know what he was doing in all the time he was without a wand." He remembered they had injured him somewhat, but healing would have taken little time. It was possible Quirrell- or the Dark Lord could- wandlessly Apparate, but he had some idea that Hogwarts warding would have prevented it. I suppose he could have gotten around in the plumbing. He had to know something about that place underground anyway.
"Meet me at the Third Floor Corridor tonight. If all goes well, we can defeat the Dark Lord with the power of the Stone."
"Sir, Professor Dumbledore- this wand is all it would take-"
Professor Snape responded in possibly the least expected manner he could. He smirked.
"Malfoy, do you believe that Dumbledore is necessary here? Do we need his help for one dark wizard? The Dark Lord Voldemort has already shown his hand as obviously as is within his abilities. Even a small child should be able to figure it out." he explained, still smiling. "Some say his daring has always been his weakness- there was the matter with the Potters, but if he fancies himself a great wizard, he would make things challenging for himself. If he is as ruthless as they say, he would dangle the final clue to the mystery just in front of his enemy's eyes, offering one last chance before it is too late." The Head of Slytherin House took a book from the shelf. "Alchemy is a highly esoteric art. You gain little from its study unless you commit centuries to it- for most, only a cursor knowledge will suffice. The full use of the Stone, however, is something only a master could accomplish."
"Do you believe you could do it?"
"The first step is obtaining it in any event. I shall read in the amount of time we have."
Lunch was an ordinary affair to every other student in the room, and as such Draco did his best to contain his joy over wild perch and pumpkin juice.
At nightfall he surfaced from the broom closet where he had been hiding, meeting Professor Snape in the corridor on the way. He explained how he escaped from the strange corridor where Quirrell had trapped him to lighten the mood as he used the color-change charm to revert to his true appearance. He had needed to change the trim of his robes to blue to be in the Great Hall, but as he was not wearing it he would simply have to turn it back later. There were no guards posted at the door and the teacher conjured a viola that set itself to a quiet folk tune as they went in, and Draco watched as the beast slumped forward.
"Is it asleep?" he asked as they calmly walked around it.
"The Gamekeeper would have needed some way of transporting it in here. The challenge I made is further along; it was not for me to know how to get past the others." came the short explanation. They found a trap door in the floor after carefully moving the beast, a great three-headed dog which had unfortunately fallen asleep on the portal. Moving it took time from his perspective, though he considered it was possible he was just excited. I need to calm down- keep my head about me.
When at long last the pair of them made their way through the trap door, they were faced with an utterly empty room save a few ashes in the corner, which seemed to surprise Professor Snape.
"Has someone else been here, sir?"
"It was probably the Dark Lord. He would not think to use the plant again, he would simply burn it and cast it aside." the Head of Slytherin surmised.
"What plant?"
"Those ashes are all that remains of the Devil's Snare Professor Sprout used for her measure of security." Draco's expression likely warranted further explanation. "When we were gathered to develop obstacles to protect the Stone, our task was to come up with something that any one of us could bypass, without destroying it or reducing its effectiveness. For mine own part, I looked into the magic refilling the cups in the Great Hall, restoring each potion to full within a matter of hours after they are drunk."
"That one should present no challenge."
"In truth, none of them present a challenge. Quirrell's is a mountain troll. A killing curse will do the trick."
"Does that mean it's already dead?" Draco asked uncertainly. "I thought they were supposed-"
"Quirrell had no intention of allowing any of the professors past his obstacle. There is virtually no way of dealing with a fully grown mountain troll without killing it, which each professor knows not to do. The intention is to force an intruder into a dangerous battle he will likely not survive. Dumbledore could get past it, of course, which was enough for him to approve it, frowning slightly as he does." Though momentarily distracted by an astute assessment of the old wizard with twinkling blue eyes, a question occurred to him.
"Well, what are we doing here if Quirrell's already gotten past all the obstacles?" he asked. "If he has the Stone already, he should really only be going after Flamel."
"A reasonable question, Malfoy, but I doubt he could have passed my challenge. It is a puzzle of logic he cannot force to work for him, and if we are fortunate, he is already lying dead. After mine, Dumbledore's measure remains, and retrieving the Stone from there requires an innocent soul."
"An innocent soul?"
"One such as yours would suffice." Professor Snape explained. "The true nature of the obstacle eludes me, but he truly outdid himself with it. Only one wishing to find the Stone and not use it for his own gain may take it from where it hides."
"And yours, sir?" Draco asked, an odd uncertainty mounting. The question stopped the Potions instructor a moment.
"I was a Death Eater, once upon a time." he started. "As it happened, I was not far from the Dark Lord when he died- the window outside was as close as he would allow me to come, lest I ruin his plans for my own meager ambitions, as he might have put it." The scion of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy had heard about the Potters, how the master had decided that it was a task of great enough import that he would perform it himself. "I might have aimed a killing curse at his back, but I was afraid. He had no illusion that I was acting in his service because I enjoyed it." It was a confession to never having been under the Imperius Curse, but if memory served, he never made such a claim, only that he had defected and his crime of being a Death Eater was, if anything, an act of heroism. Draco suddenly found the notion almost amusing, if it were not for the overwhelming pity. "The last I heard from him was that he would make an effort to spare Lily, but I made the same effort to avoid inflating my expectations. While he appreciated the information I provided, the Dark Lord would not be trifled with the life of an ordinary witch."
"What happened, Professor?" Draco asked.
"Unless I am mistaken, the killing curse he used to kill their young son inverted, killing him, but an Indian talisman round his neck preserved his magic long enough to set the place ablaze with cursed fire. I only just managed to extinguish it alone, and by then the boy was long dead. A braver man might have rushed in and worried about the fire later, but I had counted three killing curses." He sighed a moment. "The real reason I brought you along is because I need your help. I am a very bad man, Mr. Malfoy."