Pet
I have always wanted a pet.
A Kneazle, a Puffskein, a Moke. It didn't even have to be magical for me to adore it. I would have been perfectly pleased with something like a dog or a snake. I just needed something…
Crabbe had shown me his new Streeler that morning, and the colors were pretty. I wanted one. So, quite stupidly, I had asked.
"Never!" my father had shouted at my four-year-old self. "I will not have any mangy beasts disgracing my house and my family."
I tried to get around it. I attempted to sneak in creatures of various kinds with my beginning Cloaking Charms (very weak, to the displeasure of my tutor, but effective enough for my purposes). Be they insects or birds or stray cats, I took them in my small arms, and brought them home. I had a special corner in my room that I had fluffed up pillows and blankets in, to give my animals a nice place to sleep.
I wanted something to love, but more importantly, something that would love me back.
I was always caught, of course. And my pets were taken away from me.
But I kept trying.
I remember the time when Father found out about the corner. I remember waking up to a soft, cruel voice hissing "Crucio." I remember the pain.
I kept on trying.
One day, upon wandering the Manor in a fit of boredom, I stumbled across a room that struck my curiosity. The smell wafting from the open door was one that I had never experienced before, one that made me nauseous, but piqued my interest so much that I went in.
It was dark inside. All that was immediately visible were heaps of odd shapes. As I peered around, my innocent grey eyes fell on a patch of the floor that the sunlight just barely hit. I saw a familiar thing there, the sparrow I had found the week before. But something was different about it. I reached out to touch it. It was cold.
All the bodies were cold.
I stopped trying.
I still wanted some pet to call my own, however. I wanted to be able to control something, some factor in my life to do what I wanted it to, instead of the other way around…
It shivers on the ground at my feet.
It is a pale mutt of a creature, tiny ever since a birth I had of course not witnessed. Its mother was in the next room, sleeping where I had left her.
Beautiful, I think to myself, crouching down to stroke its head. It recoils from my touch, falling onto its side. I give it a chastising slap about the ears, and it bows its head without a sound. Blood from the earlier beatings is spread over its back. Red is such a lovely color.
A manic whimper bursts from its mouth. I smile slowly.
All a rebellious animal needs is some good thrashings, and soon it will break. It will soon decide that the advantageous path is not to run away, but to stay, and to love you. And love you it will, because there is no other choice.
"Do you love me, my dear?" I ask it quietly, picking the frail thing up, holding it against my chest.
Its arms wrap around me.
"Of course I do, Father."
I finally have my pet.
Its name is Draco.