Chapter Two (b): Beginnings

(Part 2/2)

A/N: Be warned. This may be a bit jarring, but you will experience the largest time jump of this story within this chapter.

November 18th, 1989

In the end, it wasn't getting the map that proved challenging, it was sneaking out of the Slytherin common room. Acquiring the map had been so easy that Cato could still hardly believe he had it. All he had had to do was wait for a Hogsmeade morning, when Filch was busy prodding students in the entry hall, and walk into his office. Then he had rifled around until he found the right cabinet, and from there… Well, now Cato was lying in bed, his curtains drawn and the map in hand.

The first time he had opened the map and tapped his wand against it with those famous words, I solemnly swear I am up to no good, had felt like a quasi-religious experience. In fact, he had had the distinct impression that he was intruding into something that really was no business of his. Still, it had shot a rare thrill of pure glee through his body, and he had barely managed to pull himself out of Filch's office before he was caught.

And now, beyond his goal of learning the many pathways through the castle, he had intimate knowledge of some secrets that he probably shouldn't have known about. After all, it was rather scandalous that his fifth year prefect was cheating on her boyfriend with, of all things, a Hufflepuff. But tonight, he had the map out with a singular objective in mind. Fred and George went out after curfew on a regular basis, but every time he tried to follow, an older student still lingered in the Common Room, alert enough to see if he left.

This time it was late. So late that his eyes prickled with exhaustion and his body begged for him to succumb to his beds delicious embrace. It was only the raw determination of a boy humiliated that drove him to stay awake, his eyes fixated on their dots in the Gryffindor common room. He had seen them with their heads together all day during class, a sure sign something was brewing. This wasn't even about revenge anymore, not really. This was a pre-emptive strike, a warning shot over their bows. Don't touch me again would be the message, and he wouldn't have to walk around with his stomach tight, the nape of his neck prickling anymore. No more waiting for the next prank, the next humiliation. The paper crackled in his hands and Cato forced himself to slowly relax his grip.

Minutes drifted by in that slow, agonizing way they tended to have in the little hours of the morning and the names were growing hazy when suddenly Cato sat up. They were moving, exiting through the portrait and into the hallway beyond.

Tracking them was easy once he slipped out of the common room, ignoring the solitary 7th year drooling into his textbook in a corner. After that, it only took avoiding a prefect and Mrs. Norris and he was there, wand out and map held loosely in one hand. He was hidden behind a tapestry, peeking through a small gap between wall and fabric and watching the two boys sneak down the corridor, their heads together and sly smiles on their faces.

"Turn their hair red-"

"-Hissing for a day…"

Their whispers broke into a muted bout of laughter as they walked past Cato's hiding spot, and suddenly it all felt so easy. He pushed the tapestry out an inch and pointed his wand at one of them. "Reducto," he hissed, his voice sounding painfully loud in the passageway.

His spell slammed into the Weasley's leg and bone snapped, echoing through the hallway like a gunshot. "Fred!" yelled George, his voice horribly twisted in fear. His twin only screamed, collapsing to the ground as his leg gave way, crumpling like a marionette. His face was torn into a rictus of agony, his skin as pale as a corpse and he looked so small on the ground, drowned in his robes.

Cato watched them for a moment, and though his heart thudded with adrenaline, his mind felt empty and clear. There was no satisfaction in this, no glee. How could there be, against children who would have had no way of even beginning to fight back? A little tickle of bile scratched the back of his throat and Cato let the tapestry fall back, obscuring the screams and the sight. He grimaced and stuffed his wand back into his pocket, wringing his hand as if to rid it of some invisible filth.

As he made his way back to the common room, swiftly and silently, he felt the void in his chest grow into disgust, and quietly vowed to himself to never make such a petty mess of revenge again.

The attack on the Weasley's had made it around the school by morning, and a hushed, thrumming sense of anticipation filled the Great Hall as students streamed in for breakfast. Cato walked over to his place in a haze. Sleep had been hard to come by, and when it finally arrived, it brought with it the echoes of that night's deeds. He sat down heavily and rubbed his eyes, trying to force away the feeling of cotton balls pressing against the confines of his skull.

"So, who do you think did it?" asked Bletchley, looking around the gathering of first years with wide eyes. "You think they'll hit us next?"

Juliette scoffed and rolled her eyes as she buttered her toast with quick, precise movements. "Really Bletchley? It's obviously one of ours." She didn't sound as certain as she looked.

"But why?" asked Priscilla Prongs, emerging from behind her book. "We're only first years!"

"They're Weasleys," said Juliette primly. "And after all their stupid little stunts, like what they did to Cato…" She trailed off as all of their gazes fell on him at the same time. "Say, Cato, was it you?" she asked, her butter knife suspended in mid-air like a miniature guillotine.

"Of course not," he said, carefully putting up an air of unconcerned indifference. He glanced over at the Gryffindor table, but it was empty of any distinctive red heads. "I don't snap bones for pleasure."

A long silence followed and he turned back to his year mates with a frown. "What, I don-"

"Nobody told us precisely what happened to him yet," said Pucey in a carefully blank voice, without a hint of accusation in it.

"Heard it in the hallway," said Cato quickly, but his heart wasn't in the lie. They were kids, but they weren't stupid. He wanted to get up and wring them by the shoulders and tell them he hadn't meant to do it, that he regretted it, but they were all looking at him with faces of mixed doubt and respect.

Juliette grabbed his arm, he knife falling into her plate with a clatter. "I knew it was you!" she said in a faux whisper.

"Badass," grunted Montague, an impressed look in his eyes.

"Too far, Malfoy. What were you thinking?" added Prongs, shaking her head and worrying her lip before diving back behind her book, as if it might wall her off from the whole thing.

Cato wrenched his arm out of Juliette's grip and stood up quickly enough to attract a few stares. "I didn't do anything. But I hope this makes them reconsider their idiotic pranks." But somehow, as he stalked out of the hall, Cato suspected that he had done nothing but up the stakes, instead of quelling the twins.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts on his way to class that he didn't even have time to react when someone yanked him into an empty classroom and slammed him into the wall, forcing a gasp of pain from his lips. His skull cracked against stone and blood roared through his ears. "What in the-" A wand tip pressed against his throat and he fell silent, staring into a pair of hazel eyes burning with anger.

"You disgusting little shit," snarled Van Zee. Her face was contorted in fury, and her breaths quick against his face. His head still swimming from the shock, Cato distantly noted that her pupils were ringed by a delicate circle of orange, as if they were eclipsing two suns. She shook him and slammed him back against the wall. "Listen to me, asshole!"

"What do you want?" he ground out, struggling against her grip.

"I'm reporting you to McGonagall." She was shaking with fury, bright tears of anger beading in her eyes.

"For what?"

She shoved him back against the wall and let go, barely giving Cato enough time to catch himself from falling. "Don't lie!" she snarled, spinning around and running a hand through her hair. "You did this, you think I'm stupid? You think because I'm a muggleborn I can't think? Is that it?"

Sparks flew from the tip of her wand, hissing and skipping against the floor.

He rubbed the back of his head and pulled his fingertips back. No blood, that was good. "Okay, I did it," said Cato. "I had reasons."

"Reasons?" and her voice was eerily quiet now, flat as a windless sea.

"Reasons," he repeated. He kept his hands up and his tone calm, despite his spiking heartbeat. If she decided to take revenge, he wouldn't even be able to try and stop her. "They humiliated me in public. I hurt them in private."

"You broke his leg!"

He took a step forward and suddenly she was looking at him again, her wand pointing straight at his chest. "Don't even try to get close to me." Her face was written with disgust.

"I broke his leg, and Pompfrey probably fixed it in about ten minutes. Now they're warned, and we're even." We're even. It sounded so childish to his ears now but she didn't even seem to register his words.

"I'm taking you to McGonnagal."

"What about de Fauconvalle?" he said quickly. His shirt was slicked to his back with sweat. Malfoy or not, his parents wouldn't be able to save him from expulsion for this. Money and lies only got so far against people like Dumbledore.

A sharp laugh burst from her, brittle and sarcastic. "As if that wasn't a lie. Bet you had a good giggle with your mates about the stupid mudblood who wants to be a duelist, didn't you?"

And suddenly, Cato understood why she was so furious, why she had been so violent. This wasn't righteous anger, it was humiliation like that which had been inflicted upon him.

"You're wrong, Van Zee. Listen," he said. "I didn't lie, and I told no one about this…" he waved his hand around. "Arrangement. I was serious about the offer. I… I got a little carried away with Weasley and I apologize, but our deal was a deal. Malfoy's don't renege on deals."

He looked her straight in the eyes as he spoke, and he saw the way her lips parted and her eyebrows rose. A look of longing crossed her face and her wand lowered a fraction. "I want proof."

"I'll give you proof. Next lesson."

She scoffed. "And I wand a promise. I'm not a snake, I want de Fauconvalle, but if you hurt another one of my housemates…"

But Cato was already nodding. "Deal. No more leg breaking." He tentatively stretched out a hand, a small smile on his lips. "Peace?"

She hesitated for a long time. Long enough that Cato was about to retract his hand when she finally swore and grabbed it, shaking it once and quickly letting go, looking almost as disgusted with herself as she had been with him. "Damn it, okay."

August 18th, 1992. (3 Years Later)

It had taken a few years and some rather strict scolding by François, but Cato could now sip his coffee and savor the flavor. It burned the back of his mouth and he grimaced, letting out a small sigh of satisfaction. Small birds danced around on the enchanted porcelain and the plate beneath his cup radiated a pleasant warmth, keeping the drink at the perfect temperature. The second floor terrace of the Dancing Frog gave a commanding view of Diagon Alley in all of its glorious, writhing school shopping frenzy. Even up here, he could hear the continuous rumble of voices as the eager children dragged significantly less eager parents from shop to shop.

The Palace of Prestige theater had itself gathered quite a crowd in front of it as two assistants toiled to stick up a massive poster of Gilderoy Lockhart's latest play. It was only a few buildings away and from his position near the rails, Cato could spot more than a few people from Hogwarts in the gaggle. He snorted and shook his head. "What a farce."

"Indeed," said his mother, following his gaze. She nibbled on a neatly cut sandwich, an amused look on her face. "And yet, you must respect his ability to manipulate his fans."

"Must I?"

"Any man who can pull together such an avid crowd with a smile and loud words is, if nothing else, not a fool," she said.

A waiter walked up to them, levitating an ornate jug full of orange juice. "Refills?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Please," Cato lifted up his glass. His mother put a hand above her glass. "He'll make a joke of the position, mother," continued Cato when he left.

"I don't doubt it for a moment. He is, after all, another excellent staffing choice by the headmaster.

"And the Board would do so much better," said Cato, rolling his eyes. He had witnessed a few meetings, following his father to the musty old rooms the board leased off of the Ministry, and had not been impressed. Half the board was as old as the room in which they held office and the other was so thoroughly under Lucius's thumb that they could hardly think without looking to him for help.

"Your father has his agenda's, but you know he would die rather than pollute the Hogwarts staff more than absolutely necessary." By necessary pollution she meant Muggle Studies. Cato had been a witness to Lucius's furor when the class had been initiated seven years ago and he could still remember the ruddy redness of his cheeks and the disbelief on his face as he ranted his way back and forth across the living room. The funny thing had been that Cato couldn't help but agree. 'That crippled old skeleton wants muggle studies? What witch or wizard in their right mind will ever go live in that ruinous place? What about Wizarding Studies? What about laws and traditions and customs of the world those damn mudbloods are walking into?' His mother had scolded him on his language, and proceeded to agree. It really hadn't been a bad point, minus the swearing.

"He must be desperate. There aren't many people crazy enough to take on a cursed position," he said after a thoughtful pause.

"Perhaps," demurred his mother, her gaze turning back to him.

Cato sighed and sat up straight, leaning forward to lace his fingers on the tabletop. Two tables down, a smiling mother sat with her son, prodding a jelly-soaked croissant in his direction. It was a curious anti-reflection of their own interactions. "What is it, mother? You clearly have something to say."

"Your father and I are concerned about you." She echoed his posture, her legs crossed and her hands laced atop her knee, resting on her beautiful summer robes.

"Why?" Despite his mother's insistence on picking only the best clothing for him, he always felt underdressed when around her. How could a boy in fancy robes measure up to a woman like his mother, who draped herself in splendor with such ease that luxury seemed to be a second skin to her.

"Hogwarts." She sipped her coffee, letting the word hang in the air.

"Yes, that is my educational institution," replied Cato with a small smile. Did she expect him to fall for the silent trap when she'd been using it since he was born?

She rolled her eyes and gave him an exasperated look, but it lacked the chill of a genuine reprimand. "We are concerned about your performance there, Cato."

"Mother, I've been top of my year every year."

"Except last year." How kind of her to remind him.

Cato bit back a frustrated response that would only have played into her little game. "I will be sure to ask the Weasley twins to not infest us with licemares the week before exams." He lifted a finger. "And even with all the nightmares and discomfort, I still only finished second to that Stork girl."

"That Stork Girl's mother made sure to rub it in my face at the last gala they held," said his mother with a frown.

"I apologize for the inconvenience my suffering may have caused you," replied Cato dryly and his mother hid a small smile behind the corner of her napkin, dabbing her red lips carefully.

"Quite." Her smile faded as quick as it had arrived. "We are worried about your social circle, or lack of thereof. Juliette Yaxley's mother has told me you practically ignore your classmates."

"Pucey is fine," said Cato. "Prongs is alright."

"Pucey. Prongs." Only Narcissa Malfoy could convey so much disdain in so few syllables.

"The rest are barely better than children," said Cato with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Cato! I have told you countless times how irrelevant your actual opinion of them is. You exceed them in maturity, of this there is no doubt, but so do you exceed them in blind obstinance. You must not alienate them. They respect you, and a little attention will give you their loyalty in turn."

She was right, of course, though Cato loathed the idea of spending his time wasting away listening to their inane grievances. It was all so small, so petty. His mother put a hand over his and he sighed. "Fine. I apologize," he said, though it felt like extracting a thorn from his hand to say it. "But I expect a larger monthly stipend just for having to handle Yaxley. I think she's convinced herself we were meant to be, and I doubt her mother will do anything but encourage that opinion."

Narcissa squeezed his hand and sniffed. "As if I would allow you to be married to some Yaxley girl. You are worth far more than that."

His watch chimed with a gentle melody and Cato quieted it with a tap of his finger. Draco and their father would be out of Knockturn Alley by now. With a smile he gently slipped his hand out of her grasp before rising and leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Thank you for the brunch, Mother. It was lovely. I'll make an effort to pay attention to the others this year."

"Good," she said, leaning her cheek up to receive his affection.

"Father should be done in Knockturn, I think I'll go meet him to buy my books." And make sure a certain diary is well delivered. He felt a familiar twinge of guilt at the thought of what he was about to put Ginny Weasley through. It was, as Grindewald had once said, for the greater good. "Would you care to join me among the peasants?" His tone was mocking, though he doubted his mother really saw the joke, for she snorted most indelicately, as if scandalized by the notion.

"Certainly not."

A/N: Next chapter will involve some classes, some Snape and some obscure magics. I intend to post it earlier than next sunday, as this was a shorter, more transitional chapter.

Thank you for your input and viewership.

AN 15/04/2022: Chapter modified slightly in an effort to change the tone of the story a bit.