Welcome to the third story in the Inferiorum series. (Heretic is number two and Doppelganger is number one.) But if you haven't read those stories, never fear! For you can read this one first and the other two later—and it won't spoil what happened in them. (Although, I think it's always good to read the things in order…but you do what you want.) But, if you've already read those stories, then that's cool too and I'd like to welcome you back for yet another one…

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or its characters.

Warnings: Death, murder, and some other stuff.

Adversary

Part the First

"Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo."

("If I cannot change the will of Heaven, I'll raise Hell.")

Draco Malfoy was most well-known for killing his brother.

Of course, everyone knew the Malfoy family, knew how powerful they were and how wealthy they were. One need only mention that they were a Malfoy at any time or place and would instantly be given the finest of service. That was the way it had always been, even back before the fall of the King.

In truth though, the rumors that had spread about how Draco had pushed his older brother Lucius off the roof were lies. He had been on the roof that day, with his brother. He could remember that day perfectly in his mind.

The wind swept through their hair and Draco tried not to shiver but it was cold. Lucius had taunted him about how he was too young and too much of a baby to come on the roof too, so of course, Draco had followed him.

Lucius was seven years old and Draco was only five. But Lucius was the first-born son, which made him the heir and so Draco was supposed to do everything that Lucius said. They stood there on the cold stone that the roof of the manor was made of and Draco's hair was flying every which way in the wind. They stood there, looking at the lands around the estates. It swept out towards the horizon, where the grey clouds met the green land.

It was overcast that day and Draco was sure it would start raining at any moment.

"One day this is all going to be mine." Lucius gave him a superior look. "It's all going to belong to me, because I'm heir."

Draco said nothing, just stood there, looking out across the land. Near them, a bird cawed and he looked over to see it fixing its watchful eye on the two of them. Was it waiting for something? Lucius went on.

"Mother says that if you're an heir, you get everything and you can do anything you like." Lucius boasted to his silent brother. Draco, even then, knew that Lucius would like nothing better than to get a rise out of him but he knew it infuriated Lucius when Draco just stood there and looked at him coldly. Besides, this pronouncement couldn't possibly shake him—everyone knew Lucius was mother's favorite. Draco was no one's favorite, he was a non-entity. Second born son. "And I'm a Malfoy. Father says Malfoys are better than everybody."

Draco had heard these same words, put far more eloquently by his father. Malfoys were further up, higher, closer to…to…to what? They were the most powerful family in the land, except maybe the Lestranges. What came after that? Outright sovereignty? Divinity?

"Everyone will know who I am, but no one will know who you are." Lucius sneered at Draco. "I'm heir." That was Lucius favorite phrase. He didn't seem to know many others.

"You sound like a parrot." Draco told him. Lucius looked triumphant, he was happy to get at least this much out of Draco—it meant that the little blonde boy was irritated with him.

"Nothing is higher than me." Lucius stepped up on the ledge that separated them from the edge. He stood on that high railing and Draco watched him with a sober expression. Lucius on the rail. He'd always remember that.

"That bird is higher up than you." Draco pointed out as the bird took off into the skies.

"That doesn't count!" Lucius stomped his foot. "I can do anything. Absolutely anything. I'm special. I was meant to be like this, looking down on everyone." He turned to face the lands and away from Draco. "Bet you're scared to stand up here with me."

"What happens if you fall?" Draco questioned him.

"Ha! Even if I fell, nothing would happen to me. A Malfoy and an heir!" Lucius exclaimed gleefully. "I could jump. I could jump right now and nothing would happen. I would land because I can do anything."

Draco didn't say anything and was about to turn away and go into the house when he realized that Lucius' legs were bending. He stood there and stared as Lucius leapt off the ledge. He rushed over to the ledge, even though it was too late to catch him. He wasn't so sure he would have caught him. But in the brief second, Lucius had turned in the air and Draco saw his face.

He knew he could fall and he knew what that fall would cost him.

Being an heir isn't enough…not if you're a fool…

He saw him land and stood there, watching over the ledge while people came rushing out of the manor and over to the boy, lying, unmoving on the ground.

Why did you jump? Was it really to prove that you could? How could you be so sure…so sure that you took such a stupid chance?

Strangely, even though he knew his brother was dead, Draco didn't feel anything. He knew then that he had not loved his brother at all and that his brother had not loved him. It was a very strange feeling because you were supposed to love those who share your blood.

Everyone thought Draco had killed him. After all, he was up on the roof too; he had every reason to do it. He was the second born son, doomed always to be second in everything. It was a curse. Now he was the only son. He was the heir.

He would have denied it. He would have told them all that Lucius was stupid and had jumped of his own accord—they might not have believed him but he would know it was true. He would have if his father hadn't sent for him afterwards. His father, who shared the same name as his older brother, would surely be angry with him.

Instead, he was pleased. He patted Draco on the head and told him something that Draco never forgot.

"You're a true Malfoy now."

A true Malfoy. He had earned his place in the family. He would suddenly exist. Lucius was erased from memory; his father hadn't cared for him and had always thought that his first born son was a fool. But Draco was different, that much was clear. And killing his brother at such a young age…such ingenuity, such ambition!

He never denied it. He never could. It was the only reason he had been accepted in the world. Let them believe this lie, what harm could it do? So they whispered that he was a murderer, let them! He doubted that any of them could possibly know what it was like to not be heir, to not feel important at all. To be second-best.

Draco saw now change in his mother's behavior towards him. Lucius had been her pet and now her pet was dead. She treated Draco with the same dripping disdain she treated everyone with. There was nothing known as Love in the Malfoy family. There was only consequence. Do well, you are rewarded. Do wrong, you are punished.

But right and wrong were very different from what most people know them here.

Draco made his way to one of the huge balconies that his father usually took any company that came during the day. Today, there were guests and he would be expected, as heir, to make an appearance. He straightened his black coat, with the Malfoy crest embroidered on the left breast. It had silver buttons, which he was fond of. He had always liked silver more than gold. He caught sight of his reflection in a passing mirror and saw his light blonde hair and pale blue eyes—his mother and father (who had been cousins of some kind) had these same features.

A servant jumped to attention when they saw him coming and opened one of the doors out onto the balcony for him. Another grey day, but not nearly as grey as the day he saw his brother die. He shook that thought from his mind. There was no reason to dwell on such a thing.

"Good afternoon, father." Draco greeted his father formally. Lucius Malfoy and his father's guest, whom he only knew as 'Nott'. Lord Nott. But still just 'Nott', at least, that's what his father always called him. "Lord Nott." Nott was a stringy man, who was very unpleasant and always seemed to be currying for favor. Draco had to keep his lip from curling in disgust at the way Nott began to greet him, hoping he was in good health, and how much the young Master Malfoy had grown!

Why doesn't father get rid of him? Surely he cannot be that useful…

But Nott was the son of one of the important Death Eaters that had helped Voldemort come into power. And so his whole family had been rewarded—just as the Malfoys had been. Draco rolled his eyes and looked sideways. The servants were setting up archery.

"We thought we would have a little sport before tea." Lucius noticed the direction of his son's gaze, breaking into Nott's string of falling all over himself. The Malfoys were much more respected and feared than the Notts.

"I hear you're an excellent archer, young Master Malfoy." Nott looked like he thought Draco would be interested in Nott's opinion of anything. "I would be delighted—"

"Excellent is not the word I would use to describe it. He can hit the target if it's standing perfectly still." Lucius looked down at Draco, who scowled. He didn't want to reveal why he only shot at the still targets, like the trees or apples, or something of that nature. Doubtless, a true Malfoy would shoot at anything, if he decided it was a target.

"But he is so young and with discipline and training, I'm sure he'll get much better." Nott nodded eagerly.

"Spare me your talks of discipline. I heard your son ran away. Again." Lucius sneered.

"Ah, well," Nott looked troubled for a moment, his hands fumbling over themselves. "He's a boy and boys rebel, I'm sure it is nothing."

"Draco has never run away from my house." Lucius declared, not in a way that was complimenting Draco—but complimenting himself. "He knows that if he were to run away, he would not be allowed back."

"Father, I would have to ask you what you would do then, without an heir to carry on the family name." Draco asked in his lazy drawl.

"You should know better than anyone that heirs can be replaced, Draco." Lucius replied coldly. Draco's mind had a sudden image of his brother's face as he fell. "Now, let us proceed to our sport for the afternoon."

Nott and his father picked up bows and began to knock arrows. Draco watched silently. There was some yelling as the servants brought out the targets. The moving targets.

Peasants.

They were worthless, they were easily replaceable. After all, that's all they did—breed. Some were children that had been living their lives as street urchins, some were criminals, and some were people who had accidentally wandered onto the Malfoy estate. Any traveler seeking lodgings usually found them—in the dungeons.

They were forced into lines and then they were supposed to run out, one at a time as a target. One ran out, hoping to perhaps outrun imminent death but Lucius loosed an arrow, which lodged itself in their back.

"Excellent shot!" Nott exclaimed. He turned towards Draco, who was watching with his usual cold, unwavering expression. "Young master Malfoy, would you like a shot?"

"No. They aren't much fun." Draco pretended that the whole affair was rather boring, instead of admitting that the sight of them shooting the people down…it was unsettling. Something stirred within him and he found himself unable to hit even one of them. "I have studying to do, father, may I be excused?"

"Go." Lucius waved a hand over his shoulder at Draco, his eyes still focused on the peasants. Draco turned and walked away. He could hear Nott calling him a "proper boy" to his father.

That's right…a proper son and heir…

He knew that when it was tea time, he would be sent for again, so they could sit there and have tea on the balcony, while the servants moved the corpses off the ground in front of them. His father would talk to Nott and Draco would be told not to slouch. His mother would sit there, looking at them all as if they were all slugs. All Draco had to do was go through the motions of the day; it didn't matter if he meant any of them, as long as he did them.

It was a tradition in the Malfoy family to treat everyone around as though you were waiting for them to put a knife in your back. Everybody's doors were always closed and locked. (Though Lucius may have done this because if he thought his son would kill his own brother, he would have no qualms about killing his father.) Everything about the house was unfeeling. From the large, impersonal dining hall that they had all their meals at—except breakfast, which was brought to each person's room, respectively—to the grounds that were devoid of anything cheerful. Just trees every now and then. The path down to the woods. Everything else was just flat field.

If enemies came for them, even from the woods, they would see them coming. The place was like a fortress. Indeed, sometimes Draco didn't even think of it as a house. In what house can you fall asleep, listening to the distant screams of people being tortured? In what house can you go into the library and read about a curse to make a person vomit their intestines?

Draco knew curses. He had to learn magic—well, the Dark Arts to be exact. It was expected of him and he was would sit there obediently and learn what he had to. He was of nobility and nobility had this privilege.

"What would peasants do with magic?" Lucius asked him one day. "Their blood is sullied—they are unfit to do magic."

Blood was important. Only if you had noble blood were you allowed to learn magic—and then only if you had a wand. Draco wondered sometimes, when he was alone, why, if it you had to be of noble birth to learn magic, were peasants born with the abilities as well?

Did it simply make him better?

"Nothing is higher than me."

In what house are you rewarded for killing your brother?

To Be Continued