A/N: This story was written for Slytherin house in the Houses Competition round 8 as a themed story using the prompt assault course. Enjoy!
Word count (not including A/N): 1,807
"To give you a break from sitting in desks, your exam is going to be a bit more practical," Professor Lupin said with a smile. None of his third year Slytherins smiled back. "For your exam, you will be going through an assault course!" Now a few students seemed interested.
"You will be facing many of the creatures we've covered in class, and will be expected to defend yourself against them to proceed to the end of the course. Any questions? And no, Ms. Parkinson, I cannot disclose what creatures you will be facing– that would be cheating." He smiled. "Follow me to the site."
He stood up and walked out the door, the scraping of ten chairs against the floor and the patter of twenty feet on the stone hallway following him. As Professor Lupin led them through the Hogwarts grounds, Draco smirked to himself.
"This is gonna be so easy," he bragged to Crabbe and Goyle. "Honestly, all we have to do is get past some stupid creatures? After that stupid oaf Hagrid's pathetic hippogriff, this'll be nothing."
"A pathetic hippogriff that apparently put you in a sling for a month, Mr. Malfoy. And 15 points from Slytherin for insulting a teacher," Professor Lupin said firmly, his voice carrying loudly for the whole group to hear.
How could he have heard me? Draco thought furiously as Blaise Zabini, who was right behind him, chuckled. Draco turned around and sent him a death glare, his face turning pink.
Finally, the group came to a spot next to the Black Lake. If you looked closely, there was a shimmery quality to the air within a 100-meter stretch. Professor Lupin steered the third years around it.
"Where's the assault course?" Goyle asked rudely.
"Right there." Professor Lupin pointed to the shimmery air. "You'll enter one at a time, by alphabetical order of last names, and enter the course. The Disillusionment charms around the area will prevent you from seeing the course until you enter it. I, and only I, am able to see it, and I will track your progress as you advance through the course. You will be graded on recognition of the creatures, keeping a level head, how long it takes you to get through the assault course, and how well you perform against the obstacles. If you feel you are in danger or are unable to continue–" Like that'll ever happen, Draco thought derisively. "– you need only send up red sparks with your wand or give a shout. Now, any questions before we start? No? Alright, the first person is Millicent Bulstrode, and if any of you leave this spot–" he drew a sizeable red circle around the group with his wand "– you will receive a T. Clear?" The third years nodded. "Very well. Ms. Bulstrode, if you would please follow me." He beckoned with his hand and led her to the starting point. Then, the exams began.
It was a very odd experience watching people go through the course. The Slytherins who waited in the red circle were able to see the person going through the course and snatches of the outlines of some obstacles or creatures if they concentrated, but that was all. Draco observed very closely, trying to catch a glimpse of what he would be facing beforehand. It was very amusing, Draco thought, to watch his classmates run, climb, get lost, shriek in fear, wildly curse and hex, and generally struggle through the course. That is, until Draco remembered that he'd be facing the same things in just a few minutes.
As he went over strategy after strategy in his head, always keeping his bored facade, it grew ever closer to his turn. Soon, Morag MacDougal was called, and he would be next. Lucky Blaise, Draco thought bitterly. He gets to go last.
In his worry, Draco had not noticed Pansy Parkinson, his annoying, cloying, not-so-subtle classmate sneaking up behind him. "It's almost your turn, Draco – How do you think you're going to do,? I bet you'll do amaaaazing," she said breathily, twirling her hair around her finger rather obviously. Draco rolled his eyes, but Parkinson did not take the hint.
He disguised his snort of laughter (Malfoys did not snort) with a scoff as the girl bit her lip. "Of course I will," he said dismissively. Luckily, Lupin called him over at that exact moment, so he was able to stalk away with all of his usual swagger. "Good luck!" he heard Pansy called in the distance, and he was torn between exasperation and amusement. She will never get over me, he thought to himself.
"Are you ready, Draco?" Professor Lupin asked. All of Draco's worries came back, but he answered, "Yes, sir" in a tight, clipped tone and stood with his shoulders squared. They may not be Gryffindors, but Malfoys never showed fear or weakness.
The first thing he saw was a pool. He could see no way around it without going outside of the area of the course. Peering into it towards the bottom, he saw that it was rather deep, with some gross-looking water plants lurking in the banks, holding who knew what creatures. Trying to remember the water creatures unit they had done in November under the pressure of time was not easy. There was nothing for it– Draco waded in.
The water was not warm, and it seeped into his robes and soaked his uniform. Ugh, there go my favorite silk socks, Draco thought annoyedly. He grimaced as he walked forward, into ever-deeper water, until it went up to his chest and stayed there. The kelps and seaweeds and Merlin knew what else swirled around his feet uncomfortably as he continued slowly, wand at the ready. He was almost to the other shore when the water near his knees rippled and something grabbed his leg.
Draco yelped and looked down. A sickly, pale green creature with sharp teeth, tiny horns, and tentacles gripped his leg tightly, cutting off his circulation, with long, thin fingers. He could feel its sharp claws cutting through his pant leg and into his skin. An image of a grindylow in a tank in one of their lessons came to mind, and Draco remembered the correct spell: the Revulsion Jinx. The red jet of light boiled the water around it, and the grindylow hissed in pain as it let go of Draco's shin. The third year ran to the other end of the shore, sopping wet and more than a little shaken. Knowing that his classmates were watching (and probably making fun of him right now), he stood proudly and continued.
All of the odd behaviors Draco had witnessed his classmates perform in the assault course began to make sense. He danced around potholes full of Red Caps that tried to bludgeon him to death, gaining many bruises along the way, and he wandered blindly all the way to the edge of a muddy marsh that ruined his dress shoes, following the directions of a deceptive hinkypunk, for seven minutes before hitting it with a Knockback Jinx and continuing in the right direction. He became more confident as he went on, until he swaggered with every bit of his Malfoy confidence to – an old tree trunk.
Draco was confused. They hadn't learned about a creature that looked like a tree. Absurdly, the image of Crabbe struggling his fat body through something in the course and Draco, Goyle Pansy, and Blaise in hysterics in the background came to mind. The answer came to him: he had to climb into the tree.
He groaned, but awkwardly lifted his leg and placed it through the hole anyway, scraping his inner thigh against the rough bark. He ducked his head under and pulled his other leg through. Draco turned around, dusting himself off irritatedly. What he saw in front of him made him drop his wand.
Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the gloom, cane thudding ominously on the floor, eyes blazing.
Draco backed away, forgetting all about the exam, the grindylows, Red caps, and hinkypunks, his friends, Professor Lupin, everything. His body was on autopilot, because his mind was only focused on one thing– get away.
"Draco, where do you think you are going?" His father's voice was soft, but commanding and intimidating, chilling Draco to the bone and rooting him to the spot. "Get over here." He obeyed as easily as if under the Imperius Curse.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, having no idea what he was apologizing for.
"Sorry doesn't matter any more. Not after what you've done." His father's words pierced Draco like a red-hot knife, even though they were cold as ice.
"I-I don't know what I've done– I'm sorry– please–" His father's cane came down on his face, smacking his face to one side and back to face him so fast Draco felt the whiplash in his neck.
"You betrayed me. You are disgusting, lower than the lowest House Elf. You are no Malfoy–"
"Father, please," Draco begged.
Lucius Malfoy continued on as if Draco had not spoken. "You are no son, no heir, of mine; you will no longer call me Father. I am... extremely disappointed." Draco's knees buckled as he slid to the floor, his face as white as a sheet.
"You are disowned."
"No, no, I can't be! Father, please–"
The cane made contact with the boy's face again. "I told you, you are no son of mine!" His father's voice got louder, his nostrils flared.
"What you have done is unforgivable."
Draco buried his face in his knees, tears flowing in earnest now, the salt burning the two red welts on his face. As Lucius Malfoy drew his wand from the inside of his cane by the snake-head handle, Draco waited for the onslaught of pain.
But it never came.
Draco dared to look up, and found that his father had transformed into… the moon? He turned his head to see Professor Lupin, aiming his wand at the boggart.
It was a boggart, he berated himself. Draco felt his face getting extremely red, not from pain this time, but from embarrassment, as he heard Lupin dispel the boggart with a "ridikkulus".
The professor then turned to him and crouched down. He spoke softly, as if talking to a small, pitiful child. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Draco huffed, standing up shakily and wiping his face. Professor Lupin graciously ignored his tears.
"Would you like me, or one of your comrades, to escort you to the hospital wing?"
"I can go myself," Draco snapped. He walked briskly out of the assault course and towards the castle with his head held high, ignoring the stares from his classmates.
He was a Malfoy, no matter what the Boggart-Lucius had said, and Malfoys never showed weakness. Never.