Year 6 at Hogwarts and there have been some major changes. Voices in their heads. Memories missing. And a Dumbledore that wasn't so great after all. The forces of the dark are closing in and they need the help of an ancient group to win this war. From the Slytherin perspective.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Chapter One: "Reflection on Summer"
Sunday, September 1, 1996.
~At Malfoy Manor~
"STUPID, PURE-BLOOD SUPREMACY MINDED FAMILY!," he yelled out once he was in the comfort of his room.
He had hastily cast a Silencing Charm beforehand and was now free to curse his relatives behind their backs. He paced back and forth angrily, wondering how he had managed to get himself into that mess. Not finding a good enough answer after thinking for a while, he cast the Exploding Charm on nearly everything in his sight, using it as a way to release his pent up anger and confusion.
Draco Lucius Malfoy had a piss poor week training with the other young Death Eaters. He had been hoping that when he finally came home, he'd be able to relax. But Draco really should've known better. As soon as he entered the foyer, he heard a conversation regarding the punishment for those who were captured and sent to Azkaban.
'Why didn't I take the side entrance?,' he groaned in his thoughts when he heard them at that time.
Draco could've just turned and exited the house, but NOOOOOO! The Dark Lord had to see him and decide to ask him of all people what punishment they deserved. When Draco took too long to respond, Rodolphus Lestrange said some disrespectful things about his father. Then Bellatrix Druella Lestrange née Black yelled that Draco was thinking of a lenient punishment for Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. Draco wanted to Crucio them there and then! A hand on his shoulder prevented him pulling out his wand, or rather, a scaly hand.
'The fu–?,' he had thought for a split second.
Draco's white-hot anger was the cause of him shrugging off his master's hand and sneering at him. When he realized his mistake, he had watched with horror as his Lord's empty wand hand twitched. A violent non-verbal and wand-less Crucio raked through his body, and it threw him to the floor. Draco had slipped in and out of consciousness for ten whole minutes, and his mother had begged the Dark Lord on his behalf, much to Draco's dismay despite him having a slightly disorientated mind. When she suggested a cruel punishment for those captured, the Dark Lord was pleased enough to release him from the curse. A random house elf was then ordered to escort him upstairs. In the hallway, far from the main room the Dark Lord occupied, Draco told the house elf he would go to his room on his own, but that didn't stop it from following him there though.
Draco paused his destructive spell casting, and sour moment of remembrance, when an ancient and antique watch on the floor caught his eye.
"Bellatrix's!" He snarled out.
His mother had chosen to give it to him two years ago. It was traditionally passed down from heir to heir in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Sirius Orion Black was the true heir even though he was disinherited, but he had been sent to Azkaban and was unable to come into his inheritance. Regulus Arcturus Black, his younger brother, had disappeared so the position went to their cousin. Unfortunately, Narcissa's elder sister, Andromeda November Tonks née Black, did not get the title. She had also been disinherited like Sirius, but was completely barred from getting the title because she married a Muggle-born wizard. After all, the family's motto was "Toujours Pur." meaning "Always Pure." There was no possible way for Aunt Andromeda to get the title of Heir.
The position had become Narcissa's since Bellatrix was sent to Azkaban, however, the watch was put in Bellatrix's name. When the Dark Lord released her and the other Death Eaters from the Dementor filled prison in Draco's fifth-year, Bellatrix took up her title as the heir. Sirius, Regulus and Bellatrix had no children, so Draco was given the title. It would've gone to Nymphadora Tonks if her mother hadn't married a Muggle-born. However, a new wave of fury hit him as he glared at it. It reminded him of the disgusting family his wonderful mother, aunt Andromeda and cousin Nymphadora were unfortunately born into. Draco knew enough about the two from his mother that he like them.
He pointed his wand at the object. "Bombarda!"
Draco watched with mild pleasure as it exploded, before throwing his wand across the room in frustration. His familiar screeched as the wand almost hit it, to which the young Malfoy snappily responded with "Shut up!" Draco marched over to his bed and dived into the pillows before letting out a series of screams, kicking his legs about and hitting the bed with his fist. He then stopped when he heard a familiar sort of sound. Draco tilted his head up, looking towards Oblem, his short-eared owl. The bloody owl was there, screeching its birdy laugh at him!
'How dare that little–!'
The glare he sent Oblem would've earned him an approving look from his father, but now wasn't the time to think about the man that messed up his life.
"Ooooh! You find my tantrum sooo amusing?!" Draco grabbed a pillow. "Well, tell me if this is amusing!" He chucked the pillow at his owl.
Oblem ducked his head and the pillow missed. He let out a sound that he believed resembled a 'hmph!'. His owner was so violent!
"Bad Draconian!"
Oblem flew from his unharmed perched to Draconian's nightstand. His owner had resumed his screaming into the pillows. That wasn't how teenage dragons were supposed to behave! Though, whenever they're angry, they do set the place on fire... So, Draconian exploding things were his way of setting the room on fire? Hmm, strange... Nevertheless, his Dragon should've outgrown the kicking and screaming. Oblem looked up at the ceiling, not liking how childish his Draconian was acting. If owls could roll their eyes, then Oblem certainly did.
"Draconian?"
He gave a hoot for his owner's attention. Oblem watched as his upset little dragon tilted his head to look up at him. The boy's eyes were watery, like he was trying not to cry. Poor dragon... Oblem stared at him expectantly, knowing that this dragon wasn't finished with its tantrum yet.
Draconian let out a frustrated yell. "AHHHH! I HATE THIS PLACE!"
"I believe I already knew that. Now, what happened?"
"Oh! The nerve of those–! Those–! URGH! Them! I wanted to curse the ears off that bloody werewolf! How dare he keep me from my home for a whole week! It's his fault I walked in on that conversation! If I ever get my hands on that fucking Fenrir Greyback, I'll make sure that his head ends up on a pole!"
Draconian had hissed out the name with so much venom that Oblem knew a basilisk would approve. Not that Oblem personally knew any basilisks. A few times, he caught sight of the one in his dragon's second year with a fiery haired girl. He was constantly worried for Draconian, ever if his owner was really bratty during that time. Oblem was there when it petrified Mrs. Norris. He liked Mrs. Norris, because she understood what it was like to have a grumpy owner. He missed talking with her that year.
Anyways, Oblem flinched (as much as any owl could) and let out a sound of displeasure. The Malfoy heir continued to rant, now on his feet, pacing. He looked like a stalking lion, oh, the irony!
" —and that Bellatrix! She better be glad she's my aunt because I wanted to hex her into last week! Then Rodolphus! ("—Rudolph? Like the muggle reindeer?" "Shut up and let me finish!") —That arse of a husband! He had the nerve to dare call my father an embarrassment to the family!"
"Which he was, but let's not go there..."
Draco continued, "I know my father dragged our family into this, but the things he said were just downright awful! So what if Rodolphus had been promoted to a higher ranked Death Eater! It's only because of the failure of the others at the Department of Mysteries! He's just a replacement, but he seems to think he's earned the position! That doesn't mean he can go around insulting my father as he pleases! The arrogance of him!"
Oblem blinked at him in disbelief. As if Draconian isn't arrogant too! His dragon ignored him in favour of continuing his rant. The owl narrowed its eyes at his owner. Once a brat, always a brat.
"WELL–! IF MY FATHER IS AN EMBARRASSMENT! Then– Then– THEN HIS FACE IS AN EMBARRASSMENT!"
Oblem widened his eyes in amusement. If he was human, he would be covering his mouth with his hands, trying not to laugh.
Draco wanted to slap himself.
"And the best insult of the year goes toooo... DRACONIAN LUCIUS MALFOY!"
He glared at Oblem, knowing very well that the bird had thought that, and had intended for him to hear. Oblem looked at him innocently, even blinking its eyes at him.
Draco scoffed. "Don't try to pretend that you're innocent, you guilty little thing."
Oblem was one of those rare (–and yes, he said rare. Malfoys always got the best!), magically bred owls. He was like the owl version of a Kneazle: independent, intelligent, and capable of aggression if pushed to the limit. Of course, Oblem didn't have the lion tail or large ears, but he did have spotted brown feathers for camouflage whenever he hunted. Once the Owner and the Familiar formed a bond, telepathic communication between Owner and Familiar would develop. As such, Draco got Oblem when he was just four-years-old. This made it easier for them to bond and gave them a longer relationship. Of course, normal short-eared owls lived to be four-years-old, but this was a magical bird. Oblem's kind could live pass twenty years if taken good care of, and as a Malfoy's pet, he would. Draco also had a Eurasian eagle-owl named Bubo, but it wasn't magically bred like Oblem. In fact, the bird was so bloody normal that he found himself bored of it sometimes. Oblem was much more entertaining!
"My Draconian?" Oblem called.
Draco rolled his eyes at the endearment, but looked at his familiar. The owl nodded its head towards the clock on the wall beside the bed that escaped destruction.
'Quarter past ten'
Draco cursed under his breath. A benefit of being Lucius Malfoy's son was that he had access to the Floo that lead directly to a fireplace at Platform 9 and 3/4, right beside the Hogwarts Express. It was open from half past ten to quarter before eleven. If he missed that opening, mother would have his arse!
A knock on his door caught his attention, and Draco tensed. He immediately summoned his wand, caught it, then pointed it at the door. Draco sat up on his bed, immediately casting a Double Protego around both him and Oblem. If someone barged in and fired a spell, it would rebound and return to its caster. He glared at the door, an Unforgivable on his tongue to cast on the individual behind the door, if it was someone he didn't tolerant.
"Come in," he said.
He cautiously watched the door open, revealing a beautiful face framed by blonde hair. Draco sighed in relief when his mother's head had popped in before she put her whole body into the room. Her emerald earrings swayed elegantly as she closed the door behind her and walked towards him. She stopped a few feet from his bed, her posture as one of a dignified lady. The mother and her son had a stare-off, both faces void of emotions, then Narcissa Oleander Malfoy née Black gave a sad smile.
"Oh, come here," She spread her arms for him.
Without hesitation, Draco leapt off his bed and launched himself into her arms. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and rested her head on his shoulder, him being taller. Draco inhaled her rosemary scent and sighed contentedly, his anger slowly going away.
'Greater is no feeling than being in a mother's arms,'
- A quote by a certain Italian fellow
Blaise was right, indeed. The feeling of being utterly and completely wrapped in your mother's arms was absolutely wonderful. Draco had no doubt in his mind that he was safe as long as he was in this embrace of love. He was aware that he sounded like a bloody Hufflepuff, but he honestly didn't care. It was how he felt.
Standing there in his bedroom, Draco looked down at his mother with eyes of gratitude for all she had done for him. It was not easy dealing with a spoilt, stubborn, self-centered brat such as he. It was also a wonder he turned out like his father when there was this incredibly kind woman who gave birth to him. Curse Lucius Malfoy for filling his head with garbage! It took the Dark Lord return being officially announced for Draco to realise just how wrong his father's ideals were.
His attention was captured by this stunning woman before him when she broke the silence between them.
"I was only downstairs for a few minutes," Narcissa teased with a gentle smile.
Draco then quipped, "That was a few minutes too long!"
It was muffled, of course, as his face was now buried in her neck. She did hear his reply though, and giggled like a school girl. Draco loved hearing that sound. Her soft kiss on the side of his temple made him smile for the first time in a week, and Draco sighed contentedly once more.
"You smelled me earlier, didn't you?"
Strangely enough, Draco felt a wave of embarrassment before he pushed it to the back of his mind. He replied cheekily, "It's my nose."
"And it's my neck."
"I know," he said shamelessly.
"So, you think you're funny?,"
Draco smirked against her skin and replied cockily, "Oh, I know I'm funny!"
"Big-headed brat!"
He chuckled because he knew she didn't mean it. Draco really missed these little moments with his mother. The Dark Lord effectively reduced the amount of time they spent together this week when he sent Narcissa to Merlin-knows-where to help heal some injured Death Eaters. Then on top of that, Draco had to send that week training with a certain werewolf. It was a miracle Draco didn't strangle anyone.
"But you love me," he replied.
His previous thoughts disappeared as she whispered, "I do," so lovingly to him.
Draco's smile grew. He pulled away a little to look at her, his arms still around her. His mother was really beautiful, her icy-blue eyes ironically warming his heart. How could anyone think Narcissa was a cold woman? They were absolutely stupid! If anything, his mother was a more classy and graceful version of Mrs. Molly Weasley. He knew how the red-headed woman was; so loving and devoted to her husband and children. Despite the pure-blood non-sense that Lucius had filled his young mind with, Draco was quite fond of Mrs. Weasley. He just really disliked her three youngest sons and daughter.
Now, Draco was forced to keep up with the Malfoy and Black appearances for the sake of his father and mother's dark family. Honestly, Draco had nothing against Half-bloods; they can't chose their parents. However, he really didn't like Muggles and Muggle-borns. Not to mention the stupid people who believe that they should be a part of the Wizarding World. No one was changing his mind about that.
Narcissa stared into Draco's now calm grey eyes, but she probably wasn't aware that the conflict in her own eyes were clearly visible to him.
Draco sighed. "Stop regretting it."
His mother seemed a bit taken back by his words and she looked away, most likely feeling guilty for what he had been forced to bare and to do. A flash of pain was seen across her features and Draco knew- just knew- she was remembering how terrified he was when taking the mark. His mother was so predictable to him, and it didn't help that she had a terrible habit of blaming herself for anything bad that Draco went through. This, in turn, always irritated him, but he never yelled at her for it. It was a part of who she was, as a mother. She couldn't help it no matter how hard he had tried to break her out of the habit.
Draco gently brushed his fingertips against her cheek, watching her look up at him with sad eyes. He stared at her with worried eyes and she looked away.
"It's my fault you bare the Dar–" She began.
He interrupted her. "No," saying it firmly. Only one word and he already felt emotional. Draco swallowed and continued. Mother needed her to hear this.
"It is not your fault father damned us all. It is not your fault that he got himself thrown in Azkaban. It is not your fault that the Dark Lord chose me to replace him. It is not your fault that I love you! And it is definitely not your fault that I am willing to destroy my future by taking the Dark Mark and become a Young Death Eater to save your life!"
"Draco..."
He raised his voice in anger, "No! If I lost you, I'd go mad!" Then his shoulder slumped as he whispered the second part. "Or worse, try to go with you through the veil."
He knew what really happened to Sirius Black, and his true allegiance. Bellatrix wouldn't shut up about it.
"Draco!" She rebuked, but he didn't listen.
"Or probably get myself killed trying to murder that scaly bastard," He let out a dark and dry chuckle after that.
Narcissa placed her hands on his shoulders and gave him a hard shake to bring him back to sane reality. The literal dark clouds that had gathered in his eyes slowly disappeared and he looked down in shame. He gave in to the Darkness within him, and actually didn't mind it at that moment. He was becoming more like the rest of the Death Eaters, bloody dark and unhinged.
"I...," He tried to find an excuse for his behaviour.
His mother held his face in her hands and gently tilted his head to look at her. "You couldn't control it. That is not your fault."
Draco closed his eyes, the shame still there, but he knew she was right.
"Okay," he said hoarsely.
He had taken the Dark Mark and was made a replacement for his father. The same father who ruined his life, but let's not go there. One should know that they will never come out unscathed when using Dark Magic. The burning brand on his left forearm said so. However, Draco attributed this Darkness to his YDE (Young Death Eater) sessions. He been trained to do the 'evilest' of Dark Arts along with the others— he's read about worse, and Draco experienced several moments of being overwhelmed by it. Heck, he even watched it consume some of his fellow trainees to the point where they had to be Oblivated because they couldn't handle it. Well, that definitely said a lot about Draco since he came out as Number One in the entire YDE rank.
Ever since he started doing these things, Draco felt a malevolent kind of feeling slowly consume him. He tried reducing how much Dark Arts he practiced during his spare time, since he did it quite frequently. That didn't work. Then Draco tried spending excessive amounts of time in the Dark Lord's presence. The man– reptile!– always had heavy, Dark waves rolling off of him. Draco had gotten used to them over time, but the feeling only grew stronger. He had just given up on that method when the Dark Lord suddenly allowed him to sit at the foot of the stairs to his throne like Bellatrix did. Death Eater meeting were now more nerve-wrecking than before since he was able to tell how the man– reptile!– felt; whether it was sadistic delight, annoyance, angry or plain bored.
Despite how he felt about it, Draco knew the feeling was still growing stronger. Every single day here got more miserable than the one before! It had gotten to the point where everyone knew this. Of course, it was probably expected since the July 28 to August 10 incidents were violent enough for Young Death Eaters to actually give Draco's fourteen days of madness a title. They called it the events of 'Draconis Tenebris Diebus Quattuordecim', which in English was 'The Dragon's Fourteen Days of Dark' or 'The Dragon's Dark Fortnight'. Ever since that, the young Malfoy really wished his mother would be there with him at Hogwarts. He would be satisfied if it was only to bring him back whenever Draco couldn't control it. He didn't want to go dark like he did for that time. Never again!
Narcissa had been sent to the other side of England, away from Wiltshire, on errands for The Dark Lord during that period. That meant that Draco had no one to bring him back to sane reality, and he hated it. It also felt like the Dark Lord did that on purpose, as if to test Draco's stability. Well, the scaly bastard was pleased enough with his behaviour to tell Draco to his face that he enjoyed seeing Draco in such a state. Maybe he passed that test, somehow...
Mother was not pleased, to say the least, and went charging into large ballroom that the snake had claimed for himself. She actually attacked Greyback when she saw him on the way when he foolishly– Narcissa's words– tried to block the entrance doors! His mother had intended to curse the Dark Lord six ways to Sunday, and might have actually been killed for her recklessness if Rodolphus and Bellatrix hadn't decided to imprison her in a glass box! Draco had watched from the foot of his master's (well actually Lucius') throne as the usually calm and composed Narcissa screamed threats and obscenities at the Dark Lord! Uncle Severus had to cast a Silencio on her to shut her up, worrying for her safety. Imagine the panic and fear that struck every one of them present when the Dark Lord started laughing in amusement. Draco had literally stopped breathing for the whole minute the man laughed. If the others were as close to the throne as he was, they would've felt the Dark waves dancing in sadistic glee!
Never had Draco seen so many people beg for a single person's life! Then the Dark Lord smiled! Draco, to this day, can't even properly describe the damn bone-chilling smile! He actually fainted from how heavy the Dark waves got!
But enough of that! Wanting to be distracted from this craziness, Draco glanced at his large trunk and tsked.
"That's going to be heavy to carry," he said with a small smile.
Narcissa gave him a sad smile and engulfed him in a hug once more before snapping her fingers to summon a random house elf.
"Now let's get you to Platform 9 and 3/4, Draco."