Disclaimer: The only things that do not belong to JK Rowling are some of
the plot and the character of Gafeth so far. Everything else is her genius.
Please don't sue me.
Wizard's Chess
Chapter 2: Diagon Alley and an Unpleasant Surprise
Harry plowed up another filthy stairway in the House of Black; one he hadn't known existed till today, looking for his godfather. There was only one door at the top of this landing and he severely wished that this was the one Sirius was behind. He'd been traipsing the house, wand in hand, since Sirius had disappeared early that morning during breakfast claiming the need to make another room inhabitable. Either Sirius wanted to be alone, which had been for most of the day, or he was expecting a new resident. In any case Harry wanted to know what was going on. Standing behind the doorframe he listened for any noise coming from the room, and was catching his breath. There was a pleasant humming particular of Sirius and Harry carefully opened the door a bit so as not to startle his godfather, or whatever might be in the unexplored room with him.
"Sirius? You in here?" said Harry softly from the other side of the small opening.
"Come in Harry. There's nothing in here that you need to worry about."
"Including you?" came the tentative reply.
"Including me. I told you all I was doing was cleaning." Harry finished opening the door and strode in. It must be a new tenant he decided, the bedroom painfully familiar despite the dim light. The carpet was a lush green, the comforter was emerald with a silver patterned trim, and the dark headboard had delicate snakes etched into it. He had seen something like it only once, the time he and Ron had snuck into Slytherin tower using the Polyjuice Potion.
Harry cleared his throat as Sirius magicked the last shady drape up on the rail surrounding the bed. When he had Sirius' attention Harry inquired as innocently as he could, "Who are you bringing here Sirius?"
"A relation of mine who I believe the group of you kids are acquainted with," he answered uneasily.
"Is he a blond with an unbearable attitude?" spouted the stark reply, Harry remembering the lineage curtain downstairs and the gold line of thread that connected Narcissa Malfoy to the rest of the Black family.
"I was afraid you were going to see it that way. Harry I know you to don't get along..."
"To put it in nicest terms" interrupted Harry, glowering.
"But he's had a bit of a nasty summer, and although I can't tell Hermione and Ron what to do, I can tell you that I expect you to attempt to be civil with him."
"I will if he does."
"Harry" came Sirius in a warning tone. "I'm not kidding. I don't want to catch you making anything harder on him then it is." He sighed, "I doubt you'll see much of him at any rate, Narcissa said he's been quite withdrawn lately, choosing to spend most of his time alone."
"Sirius I know he's had a hell of a time the past two weeks but it doesn't excuse the fact that he is, and always has been an insufferable git. And speaking of summers, he isn't the only one whose vacation hasn't been a bed of roses. You persuade him to be humane, or at least not insulting around me and I'll return him the favor, but I am not going to let him trample me because of some need to prove himself the pure blooded wonder child," fumed Harry, miffed at his godfather's obvious siding with Malfoy. His angry, jealous thoughts raced further as Sirius plopped himself on the newly made up bedcover. Who was Malfoy to be coming here anyway? He didn't belong there, he had no right to be there, and surely no one wanted him there, so why couldn't his perfect pasty little pureblood self stay locked up in his huge, fashionable estate where he was waited on hand and foot, by some poor abused house elf. "Ugck" he grunted in disgust.
A few minutes passed before Sirius pressed the subject again, hoping to curb Harry's temper, at least a little. Then he said softly "You know I can't force you to anything ... "
"Give the man a prize" he retorted sarcastically.
"... But I want you to know that if you don't even try to put forth an effort, I, as your parent, will be sorely disappointed with you." With that he stood up and swept out beyond the door and down the steps without another word.
Great, thought Harry, I hate Malfoy; it's his fault Sirius is upset with me. He'd better not start anything while he's here or I'll use the worst hex I can think of on him without a second thought. He flopped backwards on the squishy Slytherin colored bed; at least it's only for a few more weeks, was his last feasible thought for a while as he contemplated the fabric above him.
~*~*~*~*~
A young man was looking around the Leaky Cauldron anxiously. So this was it, not much to it really, although he supposed that was to keep the muggles from becoming too interested. He'd been all over muggle London that day, looking at the sights like any good American tourist, his father telling him the real background of many of them, from a time when the magical community hadn't needed to be completely hidden from those who weren't magically gifted.
He had sat through it all like a good son should; nodding in the appropriate places, laughing when it was expected, all the while his stomach was churning. It was an important day for him; he was going to meet his, hopefully, new headmaster. Transferring schools was unusual at best, and generally frowned upon due to the secrecy amongst the larger wizarding schools, and despite his odd circumstances, he was unsure of how his decision was going to be accepted. If it even was. He wrung his ashen hands uneasily as his mind rambled through his doubts. His father, dark in hair and eyes, but fair in complexion, was still chatting animatedly to some wizard, probably of notability, about their trip, thoroughly oblivious to their son's uncertainty and growing nausea. He was getting queasier as time passed, slowly, all the while musing about his upcoming encounter. He was just about to excuse himself to the restroom when his father spoke to his acquaintance about him. Looking up he swore silently and tried to smile.
"This is my son, Gafeth. His hair makes him look a tad on the eccentric side, but he's a good boy, does agreeably in his studies, as well as being a competent quidditch player. He was a keeper with Viktor Krum, you know, at Durmstrang."
"Is he of age then?" asked the shorter man in a green bowler cap appraising the boy beside him, with his waist length white hair pulled back in a braid, and dark green eyes. Gafeth flinched uncomfortably.
"Oh no, he's to be fourteen in November, sir"
"I see. So what brings you all the way to London? Durmstrang is a bit of a trek from here isn't it?"
"From the United States, actually. We're here to see Albus Dumbledore about enrolling my boy. You heard about Igor Karkaroff, I'm sure, and I don't believe, after the disaster he caused at the Triwizard Tournament, that I want my son anywhere near the remains of anything he influenced." Or more correctly, was his unvoiced notion, Gafeth doesn't want to stay. Despite Karkaroff proving to be a traitor and a coward he wished he could have persuaded his distressingly abnormal son to stay at the finest Dark Arts School in North America and Europe.
"Understandable," was the reply, the other gentleman's face darker after hearing Dumbledore's name. Gafeth's father seemed to notice, because he looked down at his gold wristwatch and exclaimed.
"Oh my! Gafeth we've got to be going soon, your meeting is in an hour."
Gafeth adjusted his cloak and stood up slower then he would normally have so that he wouldn't collapse. "Pleased to have met you sir." His voice cracked unimpressively as he offered the strange looking man his hand.
"The pleasure is mine. Its always nice to see some new blood around." He turned to Gafeth's father, "And if you don't mind my asking I don't believe I caught your surname."
That, he thought, is because I didn't give it. He resigned himself and said, "DeVai, sir, Robin DeVai."
Recognition flitted across his face. "I won't forget it this time." There was a pause then, "I suppose I'd best be on my way as well. Good luck with your appointment." He stood and with a dip of his head, disapparated. Gafeth watched the now empty space for a moment, thinking. You know, if he keeps this up he's going to become accomplished at pretending that he likes me, and I like him. How ironic. It made him laugh emptily before he twirled, his lengthy braid spinning outward, toward his parent.
"Which ridiculously important person were you getting in good with now?" he asked sarcastically, the pretense of friendliness put aside.
"I'll have you know that was Cornelius Fudge, British Minister of Magic," he answered matching his son's tone, and sneering.
"Oh, well, what do you make of him?"
"Charismatic enough, I suppose. These British people seem to have lower standards about who they leave in charge of governing."
"That's your expert opinion?" they strolled out of the back of the pub, and Gafeth was disappointed to see it was bare except for an old wall and a few garbage cans.
His dad strode up to the barrier ignoring his offspring and muttering, "... he said three up, two across ... " as he counted the bricks. Finding the one he prodded it sharply with his wand, and for a minute they both thought nothing had happened. Then the wall began to part revealing an array of shops, and masses of witches and wizards walking and purchasing items. Beckoning his son through with a quick snap, Mr. DeVai continued answering Gafeth's question. "I don't like the look of him. He seems to have become fond of his position as Minister, although I doubt he's really doing much at all. He's not bright, but he wouldn't be doing so well without asking someone for advice."
"I see." Gafeth thought it rather rich that his father had the nerve to judge anyone who was enjoying their little bit of power, when he, Robin DeVai was holding on greedily to the promises of further wealth and renown his master offered him. Not that he wasn't influential, one needs be fairly well known for wizards in a foreign country to know your family name, in fact, Gafeth would reckon his family was as well known as the Malfoys, and for many of the same dark reasons. Large contributions to the American Ministry, St. Mingo's Hospital in New York, and the International Unification of Wizarding Peoples Federation, just to name a few, had bought him and his family all they had wanted, as well as giving his father the Order of Merlin, Second Class. They were popular all right, and Gafeth should have been thankful. Instead he was quite tired of his parents' attempts to create a mini them out of him. He was not a social butterfly, despite his upbringing, and had no urge to increase his popularity, in fact, more and more often; he wished he could be left alone.
Now was one of those times, but as the two of them wandered through Diagon Alley, he decided he had at least better know what they were looking for. "Father."
"Yes?" It was more of a grunt between his father greeting associates he'd met through work.
"What the bloody hell are we looking for?"
~*~*~*~*~
Draco was staring, unimpressed, at the division between numbers ten and fourteen Grimmauld Place, dull in the morning light. He had been dropped off on the corner in a muggle vehicle, his belongings brought to his destination during the night. He felt past the wand in his khaki pocket to the small, folded piece of parchment that a owl had dropped on him moments before. It said number twelve Grimmauld Place alright. He looked up again and suddenly a large run down manor appeared from in between the others, seeming to push them both several feet in opposite directions. He glanced, jumpy, looking to see if anyone had noticed. Everything was still so he marched up the stone walkway to a large graying wood door. There was a paper on it that read, "Do not use the doorbell". Lovely, how am I supposed to get in? He reached up to knock and his fist met air as the door opened. A tall, stringy man leaned in the frame; pieces of chin length brown hair drooping in his pale face. He wore an ill fitting dirty robe with holes in both of the elbows and a tear that ran from collar to shoulder, the loose fabric flopping. At the sight of Draco his face split into a grin and he offered his hand to the boy. "Finally someone who has the sense to listen to the door. Come on in," he said leading Draco inside the musty hall, door closing silently behind them, "I'm Sirius."
Draco stared at everything. It was indeed the house of Dark wizards, although it looked as though someone had been waging war against it. There were images of various places in the wizarding world on the walls; some Draco could name, like Gringotts, and The Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade, but many more he'd never seen, right next to portraits of the place's previous occupants, witches and wizards in tall chairs sitting in front of cauldrons full of what looked like blood, eying him up as he walked past with nasty looks. He also took note of a long moth eaten curtain apparently covering something. He vowed to examine it closer when he had the chance. Sirius led him right past the curtains when a clatter came from a room nearby and the drapes to his left flew open. "Traitors! Mudbloods! Filth of the wizarding world in my house!" screamed a horrifying woman in the painting the curtains revealed. He took a step forward before Sirius put a firm hand on his shoulder and hollered over the painting.
"Ignore her. Let's go." He started to turn Draco through a doorway to the right. The screaming abruptly stopped at Sirius' words. The woman glared at Sirius before turning to Draco, looking delighted to see him.
"Let me see him better you idiot man. Lucius, is that you?" she snapped at them. Draco was bewildered, and he looked to his new guardian for help. "Ignore that fool," the image continued, "he doesn't know how to respect his family none the less how to greet a visitor. You aren't Lucius are you? No I see, what a pity. But you don't look like traitorous filth, indeed you remind me of my Narcissa, dear thing."
"I'm her son, Draco. Draco Malfoy." He considered, this crazy lady knows mother and father. She beamed further.
"I see my pitiful excuse for a son has finally had the decency to speak to someone civilized." His mother? He turned to Sirius who was seething against the far wall. Catching Draco's gaze he seized the opportunity to violently jerk the drapery closed, completely muffling his mother's howls of protest. Sirius turned to his new boarder and flashed a sheepish grin.
"Now that you've met my dear mother lets get you something to eat then I'll show you to your room." He stalked into a bright room and beckoned Draco to follow. Draco strode into a kitchen full of people and was overwhelmed with loathing. Sitting around a giant cherry wood table talking animatedly was none other then Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and a handful of red haired Weasleys, along with a few adults among who, his old Defense Against Dark Arts teacher, and werewolf, Remus Lupin the only recognizable one. Oh no, Draco went, not staying here, not today. He stepped backwards back into the dim corridor as Sirius tried to grab him and lead him back. Their struggling turned into a brawl and when they knocked over a cluster of pots hanging on the wall it caused everyone in the room to gawk at them.
"Get ... off ... of ... me. I'm leaving ... now!" grunted Draco furiously. He sent a kick in the direction of his retainer.
"Not ... while ... you're in ... my ... care. Would ... " Draco's foot caught him in the stomach cutting him off, and causing his to release Draco's wrist. Draco bolted out the door and got about two feet before he was abruptly stopped by a male voice calling "Petrificus Totalus!" He lost control as the spell hit him his arms snapping to his sides and his legs springing together, and he hit the floor, rigid.
"I got him Sirius! You alright in there?" called Lupin into the kitchen. Sirius shuffled out to where the two were, clutching his abdomen.
"I'm fine. Is he alright?" he gestured to Draco with his free hand.
"He's fine. It's just the full Body-Bind spell. " Malfoy's face burned as he lay motionless on the carpet. Mother, I'm going to murder you.
"I had hoped it wasn't going to be like this. Lets levitate him to his room and I'll release him and send his elf up with his lunch." With a flick of his wand Sirius, Remus, and a frozen Malfoy started towards the stairs that would lead them to Malfoy's room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had peered out the door during the excitement and saw everything. Harry and Ron where having a hoot while Hermione stood disapproving, arms across her chest. When the two boys stopped to breathe she interjected "This isn't at all funny."
Ron glared at her "You're right. The world's biggest moron just got bound and floated to his room like a misbehaving six year old. That's not funny, that's hilarious."
Her manner sharpened "You know what I mean Ronald Weasley."
His eyes narrowed and the back of his ears started to turn red, "No I don't believe I do Hermione. Why don't you spell it out for those of us who are more intellectually challenged then you are?"
As the two of them started to yell at one another Harry put his chin on his knees and watched the two go at it from his vantage point on the floor. Crookshanks limbered over to him with his squashy face and rubbed Harry's legs. He was rewarded with a rub between his ears, making him purr loudly as he flopped down next to Harry. Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and he processed the last half hour. Malfoy was here. Malfoy had attacked his godfather. Malfoy was probably being locked in his room for the next month. After today Harry wasn't likely to have to deal with Malfoy for the rest of the summer. Good thing too, or else he'd have to give Malfoy a swift kick to match the one he'd given Sirius. Crookshanks rolled over to have his stomach petted, and Harry continued to absentmindedly run his hand over the soft fur. His friends' volume had lowered to a reasonable decibel so Harry gave the two his full attention again. Hermione was motioning with her one hand, the other tucked under her arm still.
"Ron I simply meant look at the trouble he caused in the first ten minutes. I think he ought to be locked away with no food or water and the key thrown away as much as the rest of you, but if that was just ten minutes ... well he's got another month here."
"'Mione I don't think he's gonna be allowed out of his room for the remainder of vacation after that bit. Mums in a right state about having the prat here to begin with, and I heard her go up after Sirius. I bet she causes a ruckus."
"That's exactly what I mean. He is such a nuisance even without his actual person being there. And we'll be dealing with this till September."
Privately Harry agreed with Hermione but with the anxiety shooting around already he wasn't about to contradict Ron. Instead he got up to his feet, and brushing his jeans off announced "We really shouldn't worry about it until Malfoy decides how he's going to react to this. It'll probably be a mess, but we can't do anything till then. I'm going upstairs, coming?"
Hermione looked grateful and Ron unconvinced, but the both of them followed Harry up to the room that he and Ron shared, trying to avoid Mrs. Weasley who would be wanting them for another round of housecleaning.
~*~*~*~*~
Draco was pacing his room, one two three left, around his four poster bed, and had been in intervals since he'd been brought up here. His blond hair was scuffed from his fight with his new guardian, and there was rug burn down his left arm from when he fell when the binding spell hit him. He stopped his continuous movement in favor of plopping to the floor in front of his trunk, where he shuffled around looking for parchment and quill to write home. A moment later he realized that most of his belongings had been unpacked already, making the room perfectly inhabitable, and taking one thing off of the list of things to waste time. The room was poorly lit, with no windows to the outside, probably for his further detainment. The furniture was similar to that of his dormitory at school, lots of Slytherin colors and snakes everywhere, comfortable, but he despised being locked in there. Sirius had told him that there would be other chances for him to be let out to roam with everyone else, but for now he thought it best to keep him on his own.
Absolutely spiffing for him and the rest, but Draco was becoming bored and increasingly irritated. He had heard the door being locked from the other side and had figured that it could be undone with a spell. To his dismay he couldn't remember the incantation to the spell. He'd sat for an hour in front of the door trying different things. So far alamara, alomora, ahoma, and ahamara had produced no effect. Alavera had sent flames shooting from his wand tip, and ahomorah had produced a gust of wind that ricocheted and shattered a lamp.
He was to the point where sitting in front of the door for another hour was sounding good so he walked over to the entrance, carefully contemplating his other options. He could destroy it, which would be useful until Sirius discovered it, and would probably have him thrown into some uncleaned, untouched room with Kreacher. No, it needed to be unlocked and in one piece, and hopefully by the time he got out, his schoolmates would be out of the kitchen because he was hungry. Which reminded him, where was his elf? Another thing to find out when he got downstairs. He stood facing the door, brandishing his wand and gave it another try "Alohomora!" There was no sound for a moment then 'click'. Draco quickly tried the knob and it swung open, leading him out into an unlit stairway. He closed the barricade to the room and relocked it. Let whoever came to check up here think he was either angry or asleep, then he ran off to do some searching.
Wizard's Chess
Chapter 2: Diagon Alley and an Unpleasant Surprise
Harry plowed up another filthy stairway in the House of Black; one he hadn't known existed till today, looking for his godfather. There was only one door at the top of this landing and he severely wished that this was the one Sirius was behind. He'd been traipsing the house, wand in hand, since Sirius had disappeared early that morning during breakfast claiming the need to make another room inhabitable. Either Sirius wanted to be alone, which had been for most of the day, or he was expecting a new resident. In any case Harry wanted to know what was going on. Standing behind the doorframe he listened for any noise coming from the room, and was catching his breath. There was a pleasant humming particular of Sirius and Harry carefully opened the door a bit so as not to startle his godfather, or whatever might be in the unexplored room with him.
"Sirius? You in here?" said Harry softly from the other side of the small opening.
"Come in Harry. There's nothing in here that you need to worry about."
"Including you?" came the tentative reply.
"Including me. I told you all I was doing was cleaning." Harry finished opening the door and strode in. It must be a new tenant he decided, the bedroom painfully familiar despite the dim light. The carpet was a lush green, the comforter was emerald with a silver patterned trim, and the dark headboard had delicate snakes etched into it. He had seen something like it only once, the time he and Ron had snuck into Slytherin tower using the Polyjuice Potion.
Harry cleared his throat as Sirius magicked the last shady drape up on the rail surrounding the bed. When he had Sirius' attention Harry inquired as innocently as he could, "Who are you bringing here Sirius?"
"A relation of mine who I believe the group of you kids are acquainted with," he answered uneasily.
"Is he a blond with an unbearable attitude?" spouted the stark reply, Harry remembering the lineage curtain downstairs and the gold line of thread that connected Narcissa Malfoy to the rest of the Black family.
"I was afraid you were going to see it that way. Harry I know you to don't get along..."
"To put it in nicest terms" interrupted Harry, glowering.
"But he's had a bit of a nasty summer, and although I can't tell Hermione and Ron what to do, I can tell you that I expect you to attempt to be civil with him."
"I will if he does."
"Harry" came Sirius in a warning tone. "I'm not kidding. I don't want to catch you making anything harder on him then it is." He sighed, "I doubt you'll see much of him at any rate, Narcissa said he's been quite withdrawn lately, choosing to spend most of his time alone."
"Sirius I know he's had a hell of a time the past two weeks but it doesn't excuse the fact that he is, and always has been an insufferable git. And speaking of summers, he isn't the only one whose vacation hasn't been a bed of roses. You persuade him to be humane, or at least not insulting around me and I'll return him the favor, but I am not going to let him trample me because of some need to prove himself the pure blooded wonder child," fumed Harry, miffed at his godfather's obvious siding with Malfoy. His angry, jealous thoughts raced further as Sirius plopped himself on the newly made up bedcover. Who was Malfoy to be coming here anyway? He didn't belong there, he had no right to be there, and surely no one wanted him there, so why couldn't his perfect pasty little pureblood self stay locked up in his huge, fashionable estate where he was waited on hand and foot, by some poor abused house elf. "Ugck" he grunted in disgust.
A few minutes passed before Sirius pressed the subject again, hoping to curb Harry's temper, at least a little. Then he said softly "You know I can't force you to anything ... "
"Give the man a prize" he retorted sarcastically.
"... But I want you to know that if you don't even try to put forth an effort, I, as your parent, will be sorely disappointed with you." With that he stood up and swept out beyond the door and down the steps without another word.
Great, thought Harry, I hate Malfoy; it's his fault Sirius is upset with me. He'd better not start anything while he's here or I'll use the worst hex I can think of on him without a second thought. He flopped backwards on the squishy Slytherin colored bed; at least it's only for a few more weeks, was his last feasible thought for a while as he contemplated the fabric above him.
~*~*~*~*~
A young man was looking around the Leaky Cauldron anxiously. So this was it, not much to it really, although he supposed that was to keep the muggles from becoming too interested. He'd been all over muggle London that day, looking at the sights like any good American tourist, his father telling him the real background of many of them, from a time when the magical community hadn't needed to be completely hidden from those who weren't magically gifted.
He had sat through it all like a good son should; nodding in the appropriate places, laughing when it was expected, all the while his stomach was churning. It was an important day for him; he was going to meet his, hopefully, new headmaster. Transferring schools was unusual at best, and generally frowned upon due to the secrecy amongst the larger wizarding schools, and despite his odd circumstances, he was unsure of how his decision was going to be accepted. If it even was. He wrung his ashen hands uneasily as his mind rambled through his doubts. His father, dark in hair and eyes, but fair in complexion, was still chatting animatedly to some wizard, probably of notability, about their trip, thoroughly oblivious to their son's uncertainty and growing nausea. He was getting queasier as time passed, slowly, all the while musing about his upcoming encounter. He was just about to excuse himself to the restroom when his father spoke to his acquaintance about him. Looking up he swore silently and tried to smile.
"This is my son, Gafeth. His hair makes him look a tad on the eccentric side, but he's a good boy, does agreeably in his studies, as well as being a competent quidditch player. He was a keeper with Viktor Krum, you know, at Durmstrang."
"Is he of age then?" asked the shorter man in a green bowler cap appraising the boy beside him, with his waist length white hair pulled back in a braid, and dark green eyes. Gafeth flinched uncomfortably.
"Oh no, he's to be fourteen in November, sir"
"I see. So what brings you all the way to London? Durmstrang is a bit of a trek from here isn't it?"
"From the United States, actually. We're here to see Albus Dumbledore about enrolling my boy. You heard about Igor Karkaroff, I'm sure, and I don't believe, after the disaster he caused at the Triwizard Tournament, that I want my son anywhere near the remains of anything he influenced." Or more correctly, was his unvoiced notion, Gafeth doesn't want to stay. Despite Karkaroff proving to be a traitor and a coward he wished he could have persuaded his distressingly abnormal son to stay at the finest Dark Arts School in North America and Europe.
"Understandable," was the reply, the other gentleman's face darker after hearing Dumbledore's name. Gafeth's father seemed to notice, because he looked down at his gold wristwatch and exclaimed.
"Oh my! Gafeth we've got to be going soon, your meeting is in an hour."
Gafeth adjusted his cloak and stood up slower then he would normally have so that he wouldn't collapse. "Pleased to have met you sir." His voice cracked unimpressively as he offered the strange looking man his hand.
"The pleasure is mine. Its always nice to see some new blood around." He turned to Gafeth's father, "And if you don't mind my asking I don't believe I caught your surname."
That, he thought, is because I didn't give it. He resigned himself and said, "DeVai, sir, Robin DeVai."
Recognition flitted across his face. "I won't forget it this time." There was a pause then, "I suppose I'd best be on my way as well. Good luck with your appointment." He stood and with a dip of his head, disapparated. Gafeth watched the now empty space for a moment, thinking. You know, if he keeps this up he's going to become accomplished at pretending that he likes me, and I like him. How ironic. It made him laugh emptily before he twirled, his lengthy braid spinning outward, toward his parent.
"Which ridiculously important person were you getting in good with now?" he asked sarcastically, the pretense of friendliness put aside.
"I'll have you know that was Cornelius Fudge, British Minister of Magic," he answered matching his son's tone, and sneering.
"Oh, well, what do you make of him?"
"Charismatic enough, I suppose. These British people seem to have lower standards about who they leave in charge of governing."
"That's your expert opinion?" they strolled out of the back of the pub, and Gafeth was disappointed to see it was bare except for an old wall and a few garbage cans.
His dad strode up to the barrier ignoring his offspring and muttering, "... he said three up, two across ... " as he counted the bricks. Finding the one he prodded it sharply with his wand, and for a minute they both thought nothing had happened. Then the wall began to part revealing an array of shops, and masses of witches and wizards walking and purchasing items. Beckoning his son through with a quick snap, Mr. DeVai continued answering Gafeth's question. "I don't like the look of him. He seems to have become fond of his position as Minister, although I doubt he's really doing much at all. He's not bright, but he wouldn't be doing so well without asking someone for advice."
"I see." Gafeth thought it rather rich that his father had the nerve to judge anyone who was enjoying their little bit of power, when he, Robin DeVai was holding on greedily to the promises of further wealth and renown his master offered him. Not that he wasn't influential, one needs be fairly well known for wizards in a foreign country to know your family name, in fact, Gafeth would reckon his family was as well known as the Malfoys, and for many of the same dark reasons. Large contributions to the American Ministry, St. Mingo's Hospital in New York, and the International Unification of Wizarding Peoples Federation, just to name a few, had bought him and his family all they had wanted, as well as giving his father the Order of Merlin, Second Class. They were popular all right, and Gafeth should have been thankful. Instead he was quite tired of his parents' attempts to create a mini them out of him. He was not a social butterfly, despite his upbringing, and had no urge to increase his popularity, in fact, more and more often; he wished he could be left alone.
Now was one of those times, but as the two of them wandered through Diagon Alley, he decided he had at least better know what they were looking for. "Father."
"Yes?" It was more of a grunt between his father greeting associates he'd met through work.
"What the bloody hell are we looking for?"
~*~*~*~*~
Draco was staring, unimpressed, at the division between numbers ten and fourteen Grimmauld Place, dull in the morning light. He had been dropped off on the corner in a muggle vehicle, his belongings brought to his destination during the night. He felt past the wand in his khaki pocket to the small, folded piece of parchment that a owl had dropped on him moments before. It said number twelve Grimmauld Place alright. He looked up again and suddenly a large run down manor appeared from in between the others, seeming to push them both several feet in opposite directions. He glanced, jumpy, looking to see if anyone had noticed. Everything was still so he marched up the stone walkway to a large graying wood door. There was a paper on it that read, "Do not use the doorbell". Lovely, how am I supposed to get in? He reached up to knock and his fist met air as the door opened. A tall, stringy man leaned in the frame; pieces of chin length brown hair drooping in his pale face. He wore an ill fitting dirty robe with holes in both of the elbows and a tear that ran from collar to shoulder, the loose fabric flopping. At the sight of Draco his face split into a grin and he offered his hand to the boy. "Finally someone who has the sense to listen to the door. Come on in," he said leading Draco inside the musty hall, door closing silently behind them, "I'm Sirius."
Draco stared at everything. It was indeed the house of Dark wizards, although it looked as though someone had been waging war against it. There were images of various places in the wizarding world on the walls; some Draco could name, like Gringotts, and The Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade, but many more he'd never seen, right next to portraits of the place's previous occupants, witches and wizards in tall chairs sitting in front of cauldrons full of what looked like blood, eying him up as he walked past with nasty looks. He also took note of a long moth eaten curtain apparently covering something. He vowed to examine it closer when he had the chance. Sirius led him right past the curtains when a clatter came from a room nearby and the drapes to his left flew open. "Traitors! Mudbloods! Filth of the wizarding world in my house!" screamed a horrifying woman in the painting the curtains revealed. He took a step forward before Sirius put a firm hand on his shoulder and hollered over the painting.
"Ignore her. Let's go." He started to turn Draco through a doorway to the right. The screaming abruptly stopped at Sirius' words. The woman glared at Sirius before turning to Draco, looking delighted to see him.
"Let me see him better you idiot man. Lucius, is that you?" she snapped at them. Draco was bewildered, and he looked to his new guardian for help. "Ignore that fool," the image continued, "he doesn't know how to respect his family none the less how to greet a visitor. You aren't Lucius are you? No I see, what a pity. But you don't look like traitorous filth, indeed you remind me of my Narcissa, dear thing."
"I'm her son, Draco. Draco Malfoy." He considered, this crazy lady knows mother and father. She beamed further.
"I see my pitiful excuse for a son has finally had the decency to speak to someone civilized." His mother? He turned to Sirius who was seething against the far wall. Catching Draco's gaze he seized the opportunity to violently jerk the drapery closed, completely muffling his mother's howls of protest. Sirius turned to his new boarder and flashed a sheepish grin.
"Now that you've met my dear mother lets get you something to eat then I'll show you to your room." He stalked into a bright room and beckoned Draco to follow. Draco strode into a kitchen full of people and was overwhelmed with loathing. Sitting around a giant cherry wood table talking animatedly was none other then Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and a handful of red haired Weasleys, along with a few adults among who, his old Defense Against Dark Arts teacher, and werewolf, Remus Lupin the only recognizable one. Oh no, Draco went, not staying here, not today. He stepped backwards back into the dim corridor as Sirius tried to grab him and lead him back. Their struggling turned into a brawl and when they knocked over a cluster of pots hanging on the wall it caused everyone in the room to gawk at them.
"Get ... off ... of ... me. I'm leaving ... now!" grunted Draco furiously. He sent a kick in the direction of his retainer.
"Not ... while ... you're in ... my ... care. Would ... " Draco's foot caught him in the stomach cutting him off, and causing his to release Draco's wrist. Draco bolted out the door and got about two feet before he was abruptly stopped by a male voice calling "Petrificus Totalus!" He lost control as the spell hit him his arms snapping to his sides and his legs springing together, and he hit the floor, rigid.
"I got him Sirius! You alright in there?" called Lupin into the kitchen. Sirius shuffled out to where the two were, clutching his abdomen.
"I'm fine. Is he alright?" he gestured to Draco with his free hand.
"He's fine. It's just the full Body-Bind spell. " Malfoy's face burned as he lay motionless on the carpet. Mother, I'm going to murder you.
"I had hoped it wasn't going to be like this. Lets levitate him to his room and I'll release him and send his elf up with his lunch." With a flick of his wand Sirius, Remus, and a frozen Malfoy started towards the stairs that would lead them to Malfoy's room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had peered out the door during the excitement and saw everything. Harry and Ron where having a hoot while Hermione stood disapproving, arms across her chest. When the two boys stopped to breathe she interjected "This isn't at all funny."
Ron glared at her "You're right. The world's biggest moron just got bound and floated to his room like a misbehaving six year old. That's not funny, that's hilarious."
Her manner sharpened "You know what I mean Ronald Weasley."
His eyes narrowed and the back of his ears started to turn red, "No I don't believe I do Hermione. Why don't you spell it out for those of us who are more intellectually challenged then you are?"
As the two of them started to yell at one another Harry put his chin on his knees and watched the two go at it from his vantage point on the floor. Crookshanks limbered over to him with his squashy face and rubbed Harry's legs. He was rewarded with a rub between his ears, making him purr loudly as he flopped down next to Harry. Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and he processed the last half hour. Malfoy was here. Malfoy had attacked his godfather. Malfoy was probably being locked in his room for the next month. After today Harry wasn't likely to have to deal with Malfoy for the rest of the summer. Good thing too, or else he'd have to give Malfoy a swift kick to match the one he'd given Sirius. Crookshanks rolled over to have his stomach petted, and Harry continued to absentmindedly run his hand over the soft fur. His friends' volume had lowered to a reasonable decibel so Harry gave the two his full attention again. Hermione was motioning with her one hand, the other tucked under her arm still.
"Ron I simply meant look at the trouble he caused in the first ten minutes. I think he ought to be locked away with no food or water and the key thrown away as much as the rest of you, but if that was just ten minutes ... well he's got another month here."
"'Mione I don't think he's gonna be allowed out of his room for the remainder of vacation after that bit. Mums in a right state about having the prat here to begin with, and I heard her go up after Sirius. I bet she causes a ruckus."
"That's exactly what I mean. He is such a nuisance even without his actual person being there. And we'll be dealing with this till September."
Privately Harry agreed with Hermione but with the anxiety shooting around already he wasn't about to contradict Ron. Instead he got up to his feet, and brushing his jeans off announced "We really shouldn't worry about it until Malfoy decides how he's going to react to this. It'll probably be a mess, but we can't do anything till then. I'm going upstairs, coming?"
Hermione looked grateful and Ron unconvinced, but the both of them followed Harry up to the room that he and Ron shared, trying to avoid Mrs. Weasley who would be wanting them for another round of housecleaning.
~*~*~*~*~
Draco was pacing his room, one two three left, around his four poster bed, and had been in intervals since he'd been brought up here. His blond hair was scuffed from his fight with his new guardian, and there was rug burn down his left arm from when he fell when the binding spell hit him. He stopped his continuous movement in favor of plopping to the floor in front of his trunk, where he shuffled around looking for parchment and quill to write home. A moment later he realized that most of his belongings had been unpacked already, making the room perfectly inhabitable, and taking one thing off of the list of things to waste time. The room was poorly lit, with no windows to the outside, probably for his further detainment. The furniture was similar to that of his dormitory at school, lots of Slytherin colors and snakes everywhere, comfortable, but he despised being locked in there. Sirius had told him that there would be other chances for him to be let out to roam with everyone else, but for now he thought it best to keep him on his own.
Absolutely spiffing for him and the rest, but Draco was becoming bored and increasingly irritated. He had heard the door being locked from the other side and had figured that it could be undone with a spell. To his dismay he couldn't remember the incantation to the spell. He'd sat for an hour in front of the door trying different things. So far alamara, alomora, ahoma, and ahamara had produced no effect. Alavera had sent flames shooting from his wand tip, and ahomorah had produced a gust of wind that ricocheted and shattered a lamp.
He was to the point where sitting in front of the door for another hour was sounding good so he walked over to the entrance, carefully contemplating his other options. He could destroy it, which would be useful until Sirius discovered it, and would probably have him thrown into some uncleaned, untouched room with Kreacher. No, it needed to be unlocked and in one piece, and hopefully by the time he got out, his schoolmates would be out of the kitchen because he was hungry. Which reminded him, where was his elf? Another thing to find out when he got downstairs. He stood facing the door, brandishing his wand and gave it another try "Alohomora!" There was no sound for a moment then 'click'. Draco quickly tried the knob and it swung open, leading him out into an unlit stairway. He closed the barricade to the room and relocked it. Let whoever came to check up here think he was either angry or asleep, then he ran off to do some searching.