Draco squinted as a single beam of light fell upon his face. On a small chair which had been placed before the windowsill, stood the house-elf, his arms extended in an attempt to pull the curtains. Rubbing his eyes, Draco watched with amusement as the small creature continued to fight with the drapes. Once the material was tied back, offering a view of the extensive Malfoy grounds, Dobby presented himself to his young master.
"Good morning, Draco Malfoy, sir," he began, "Dobby wishes his master all the best for Hogwarts, sir." Draco grimaced; he had heard enough. Jumping abruptly from his bed, he let the bedcovers fall in such a way that they covered the small elf. Gleefully, he watched as Dobby thrashed about in the darkness trying to find a way out.
Once the elf had escaped from the inner depths of his master's covers, he scurried through the open door, only to be called upon by the lady of the house, Narcissa Malfoy. Draco drowned out the sounds of his mother's voice as he picked up his new wand, gazing at it in amazement. He had never been short of a wand or two, but up until now, he had never been properly 'fitted', as such. Much to his frustration, Draco's wands had tended to be fairly temperamental, lasting only half a year if he was lucky. This wand, however, was specially suited to him. Dragon heartstring, the shopkeeper had told him, a fine make of wand.
Holding the eight inch strip of wood between his thumb and forefinger as he had so many times before, Draco looked around his room for something to try a spell out on.
"Securius," he called firmly, pointing his wand in the direction of his bedroom door. Instantly, it slammed shut, the sound of the key turning in the lock following a second later. Satisfied, Draco placed the wand proudly on his pillow. Standing back, he stared at it, a smile playing at his lips.
"Boy, that better not have been you playing with that wand again." Draco jumped as he heard his father's stern voice calling to him from his study downstairs. With a look of irritation mixed with anger firmly planted on his face, Draco used the simple unlocking charm he had been taught ages ago to open his door. Sighing, Draco looked around his room. He wouldn't miss it, he decided. Sure, Hogwarts was unlikely to have as much storage space as he was used to, but he would have to make do. With any luck he would be able to talk his way onto the Quidditch field.
Knowing he probably didn't have too much time left, Draco slipped on the shirt and plain trousers his mother had left folded over a chair. He grimaced at the crispness of the lightly coloured shirt and made a point to mention his dislike of the colour blue to his mother the next time he saw her.
Grumbling quietly, Draco collected together the final few things he needed to take to Hogwarts and began to descend the stairs. He was met firstly by his mother who clasped her hands over her mouth, trying to hide her pride in her only son. Draco rolled his eyes, the same way his father would have done, and pushed past her.
As Draco reached the dining room, he dumped his wand and school robes on an unused chair and sat at the table, waiting to be served. When no one appeared, Draco looked around once again, searching for any signs of life.
"Where is that low-life … Dobby!" he called angrily to the house-elf. When, a few moments later, the small creature appeared, Draco glared angrily at it, his silver flecks flashing through his eyes. "My breakfast … now," he commanded, making the house-elf jump.
As the house-elf darted off in the direction of the kitchens, Draco relaxed into the chair. Placing his hands behind his head, Draco stretched, finally waking up. He was looking forward to the adventure Hogwarts promised, but couldn't help feeling anxious. He had been told, by his father, that there might be a kid in his class he may recognise. His father had not been any more specific but Draco had his suspicions.
Before he could ponder on the matter any further, Draco was interrupted by the sound of the house-elf returning, a brimming plate balancing precariously on the palm of his hand. Slowly, and with much care, the house-elf shuffled the plate of food in front of the boy, standing back as he awaited his master's approval.
Draco studied the spread in front of him. Two slices of toast, one fried egg, one sausage, two rashes of bacon, a spoonful of beans and a serving of fried mushrooms; a good breakfast if ever he had seen one.
"That'll be all, elf," he said, and then after a pause, "thank you." As the house-elf bounded out of the dining room door to see to some other errand, Draco tucked into his breakfast. The food was warmed and cooked just to his liking. It wasn't long before the plate was empty, and, his hunger satisfied, Draco stretched one last time before leaving the room, his plate still on the dining table.
Draco's next port of call was his father's study. As he wandered through the large Malfoy estate, Draco let his thoughts wander. He had no idea what his seven years at Hogwarts had in store for him but hoped it would be all his father had told him it would be. In a strange way, Draco believed he looked up to his father. His attitudes and ideals of what the Malfoy name stood for may annoy him from time to time, but he was a figure of authority, a force to be reckoned with, a person who very few people ever argued with or disobeyed.
Now outside the heavy oak door that separate the rest of the house from the study, Draco took a moment to check he looked presentable. If he had learnt anything in his eleven years of living, it was to always look at his best, after all you never know who you might meet, or where.
Knocking heavily, Draco waited for permission to enter the room. It had been six years ago that Draco had entered the study without knocking and still he remembered it. His father had been in there talking to the, then, Minister of Magic, Sertopus Kyack. Draco, only being five at the time, had bounded into the room to inform his father of some insignificant thing. Both adult faces had turned to face the small child, Kyack's portraying confusion but his father's was simply livid. With the force of a few words, Draco had been sent flying backwards, the study door closing heavily as he landed on the floor. The clicking sound of a door locking had followed. Ever since that day, Draco had made a point of knocking before entering any door he thought his father might be behind.
"Enter." A gruff voice beckoned Draco into the well-lit study. Behind a large, sturdy desk sat Lucius Malfoy, his hair groomed to perfection as always, his staff at his side. Lucius had no need for a wand; any magic he would perform, he would do so with the aid of his staff. Draco looked at it momentarily before his eyes locked with his father's. "Ahh, Draco, ready for Hogwarts?"
"Yes father," Draco nodded, "we can go as soon as you're ready."
"Your mother," Lucius started, "she ready?" Draco nodded again. "Very well, I'll be out in two minutes. You wait in the hall." The young boy smiled as he left his father alone again. There was something about being in his father's presence that made him immensely proud of his background, his status within the wizarding world. And of course, as anyone with even an ounce of sense knew, those not in the wizarding world were not important enough to worry about.
Finding his mother on his way to the entrance hall, Draco told her his father's orders and together, they waited by the front door. Once again, Draco slipped into his own thoughts. He knew, even now, how the family would get to their desired destination, Kings Cross station. They would, of course, Apparate. His father had already spoken to him about the dangers of using such a mode of transport when he arrived at Hogwarts, the most important of which being that it was illegal for someone without a license.
Presently, his father arrived and, after slipping a cloak of midnight blue over his shoulders, Lucius nodded silently to his wife. Seconds later, she disappeared into thin air. As had happened when the family had travelled to Diagon Alley, Draco was to Apparate with his father. Standing behind him, his hands resting on his son's shoulders, Lucius waited for his son to complete the spell. No sooner had Draco muttered a few words and tapped his wand in the air, did they start moving. Draco swayed involuntary as the colours of his house began to blur and the feeling of flying through the air came to him. Tightening his grip on the boy's shoulders, Lucius steadied his son, letting go only when they had stopped moving.
Wincing, Draco looked around him. They had arrived at the right place, for next to him stood his mother, leaning against the wall as if overcome with dizziness. They had not Apparated onto the actual platform; that would have been far too obvious and, if they had been caught, would have been almost impossible to explain away. Instead, they had appeared in a small alleyway which lay just outside the busy London railway station. Moving quickly, Lucius pushed his son and wife ahead of him, following them to the ninth platform.
Carrying two of his trunks himself, Draco turned to face his father who nodded solemnly to him. Draco knew what this meant. Focusing clearly, the eleven-year old boy started walking at a brisk pace towards a brick column standing between platforms nine and ten. As he passed people hurrying in the opposite direction, Draco blanked out their voices, until the sounds became only a low hum. As the column got closer, Draco closed his eyes. He knew what was going to happen but couldn't stop the feeling of anxiety from washing over him.
Hearing a quiet whooshing sound, Draco opened one eye, then another. He had passed right through the column and had ended up on an altogether different platform. Looking up, he read the sign; PLATFORM 9¾ - HOGWARTS EXPRESS. To his right waited a gleaming, red steam train. This, Draco knew, would be the way in which he would reach his new school.
The familiar whooshing noise brought Draco back to reality. Beside him now were his parents, his mother with a protective arm around his shoulders and his father carrying the rest of his luggage. All the way along the platform, other families were also lined up. Some were helping their children put their trunks onto the train, whilst others were already saying tearful goodbyes. Draco almost snorted with laughter, when he was startled by his father's voice.
"Hurry Draco," his father growled roughly, "we'll help you get your bags on and then we've got to leave." Pushing his way through children who looked his age and some who looked older, Draco led the way towards the nearest carriage. Opening the door wide, Draco let his father on first with two of the biggest trunks.
"Oi! Malfoy!" Draco could hear someone shouted over the incessant rabble surrounding him. Standing on the first step up to the train, Draco could see two of his friends from his last school making their way over to him.
"Crabbe! Goyle!" he greeted them with surprise, "they let you in here?" Apparently, Draco wasn't the only one to be surprised that the two boys had made it into Hogwarts.
"I know! Great, huh?" started one of them, before the other one picked up.
"You wouldn't believe how shocked my family were. Our son, in Hogwarts, they kept saying. I think the whole family found out in about five minutes." Draco smirked. He, of course, hadn't gone through the same process. From the age of four he had known all about Hogwarts; it's teachers, it's Houses, even it's subjects. He had been expected to go to the famous school of Wizardry. After all, if he hadn't, he would have been the first Malfoy in history not to have attended it. A gruff voice called to Crabbe. "I've got to go," Goyle started, "meet you on the train?" Draco nodded as the two boys plodded off to find their parents.
Helping his father place the last of his bags on the train, Draco found himself a compartment and said a final farewell to his family. His mother was taking it worst, obviously fighting back tears as she pulled her son into an unwanted embrace.
"I'll miss you," she kept repeating.
"Let the boy be, Narcissa," snarled Lucius as he began to peel her arms from around Draco's neck. His son looked relieved. "Well, Draco, you just behave," he said simply, a reminiscent smile beginning to curl onto his lips, "and remember –"
"Mudbloods are scum," Draco finished off his father's sentence, knowing what he was going to say.
"Not the choice of words I would have used, but they'll suffice." Lucius smirked knowingly at his son, patting his lightly on the shoulder. "Anythin-" The sound of the compartment door opening interrupted Lucius' sentence. "Excuse me, we're busy," he said, turning as he spoke. "Snape," he snarled, his attempt at disguising his surprise and annoyance failing utterly.
"Lucius," replied the man dressed in long black robes, as he accepted and shook Lucius' outstretched hand. This, Draco knew, was the Potions master, Severus Snape. He and his father had gone to school at the same time and although they didn't seem to appreciate each other's company too much, Draco knew they corresponded with each other. Letters were sent each week to the Professor. "And," sneered the Professor, "this must be Draco, the youngest of the Malfoy family." Turning to him, the Professor offered his hand, "nice to finally have met you, Draco."
"The pleasure is all mine, Professor," replied Draco, putting on an innocent face and smiling politely. A quick glance at his father reassured him this was the correct thing to do. Winking subtly to his son, Lucius nodded his head slightly.
"We were just leaving Severus," he told the Professor, blatantly hinting. The Professor recognised this and, with a polite word to Narcissa, left the family alone again. "As I was saying, Draco," Lucius continued when he was certain the Professor had left, "anything you want, or any problems you have, just send us an owl." Allowing his wife one final embrace with her son, they left Draco alone in the compartment.
Picking a seat near to the window, Draco watched the last of the children clamber onto the trains, their parents left on the platform. He saw his mother and father emerge onto the platform moments later and watched as his mother turned, giving him one final wave, before they Apparated into thin air. Draco sighed; he liked to be alone and was content with the solitude the empty compartment allowed him. Closing his eyes, Draco's mind began to drift.
"Is this – oh." A young female voice brought Draco's mind reeling back to the present. His eyes first fell upon the girl's dark bushy hair and chocolate-coloured eyes. He recognised her but couldn't quite place where from. It took only a few seconds for Draco to remember her from when the family had retired to the leaky Cauldron after shopping in Diagon Alley. She was a Muggle, Draco immediately realised. Her clothes were those which a typical Muggle would wear, but it was her expression that gave it away. She looked completely amazed by everything her eyes fell upon. Draco sniggered silently, deciding to have a little fun with her before he dismissed her.
"Are you actually going to speak?" he asked her teasingly, although with a touch of menace in his voice, "are you just going to stand there staring at me as if I'm in one of those – what do you call them? Boybands?" Draco extended the last word, making sure she knew of his disgust for such a thing.
For a moment, the girl's eyes clouded over with confusion. "All I was going to ask is if I could sit here, but I won't even bother anymore," she informed him. Draco nodded, pleased with himself. The girl began to make for the door and as she was closing it, she turned to face him again. "What is your problem?" she asked him, her eyebrows raised questioningly.
"You … actually," Draco answered simply, twisting his body so that she was no longer in his line of vision. The sound of the door closing assured him the girl had left him to his own devices and he readjusted his seating position until he was comfortable. "Damn mudbloods," he muttered under his breath, "always bloody interfering." It surprised Draco just how much he sounded like his father, but that was not something for him to worry about. Closing his heavy eyelids once again, Draco slipped into a deep sleep, dreaming about a world where only wizards existed.