Chapter 8: Life is Never Easy

Albus Dumbledore has, on various occasions, had quite an interesting array of characters floo in to his fireplace. Once, a parrot that belonged to his distant cousin Eduardo del Espancha had somehow found its way into and out of his hearth. The parrot, it seems, had decided to parrot off the name Albus Dumbledore repetitively and flew through the floo the moment it was thrown in to the flames. Eduardo had followed soon after, all out of sorts and apologizing profusely.

However, never before had a ghost flooed in.

And never before had Albus Dumbledore thought a ghost could look so realistically sooty.

And colorful.

And alive.

"Professor, if you wouldn't mind, I need your help; so would you stop staring?" Draco Malfoy wasn't in any mood to pose for gawking at the moment.

"I apologize, Mr. Malfoy. It's just not everyday that a missing student, supposed dead, floos into my office."

"Yes, well, as you can see I'm not exactly dead. And neither is my mother, and I need to see Professor Snape right away."

Dumbledore was still seated at his desk, looking up at the agitated young Malfoy with raised eyebrows. "Yes, of course," Dumbledore said quickly. He called for Dobby, who appeared with a pop.

"Yes, Headmaster sir," Dobby greeted with a bow.

"I need you to find Professor Snape for me, Dobby, and bring him here as soon as possible." Dobby bowed once more and disappeared. "Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco nodded. He took a step towards the seat and felt his whole body reel, and was left with an incredibly strong pang of hunger in his stomach. He wondered if he'd eaten anything for the weeks he was half-dead. "I think I need to eat, actually," he said, doubled over.

Dumbledore stood swiftly and acted as a support for the young man. "Of course, of course." He looked up at a clock on the wall. "Breakfast is about to start, so I would suggest you hurry. That is, of course, unless you want to announce to the school your arrival."

Draco looked up at the old man. "I know where the kitchens are," he replied.

Never had food tasted so good as when Draco took the first bite. After weeks of watching other students eat, he was able to eat as well. The fact that the elves kept pushing more food into his pockets and hands and onto trays for him to take for the trip back just added to his joy. He was alive again.

However, he also remembered hearing once that after not eating for long periods of time one's stomach shrinks. Therefore, less food can be comfortably consumed, and one can risk one's health if one eats too much. So Draco ate slowly, and savored every bite, and didn't waste one lick of jam or drop of cream.

He soon exited through the painting with the pear from which he'd entered, carrying with him more food than is consumable in three days. An image of his mother's sunken face suddenly came to mind, and he quickened his pace. Then he wondered; what if they weren't alone in the house. It was a small house, only seven rooms, and any one of the other five he hadn't been in could have contained Death Eaters, biding their time.

Why hadn't he made his mother come with him to Hogwarts? Why had he left her there alone?

He could already imagine cloaked figures binding his mother, her eyes fearful, her thin wrists tied with rope. By then Draco was jogging towards Professor Snape's office.

"Malfoy!" The call startled Draco so strongly that he almost dropped the food he was carrying.

"What," he snapped out of habit. The voice sounded horridly familiar. He turned around. Of course it was Potter.

"How are you- You were"-

"Yes, I certainly was, but thanks to something, I'm no longer- well, half-dead or earthbound or whatever I was. Now if you don't mind"- He turned away and started running towards Professor Snape's office. He called over his shoulder that there were pressing matters at hand, no time to lose. "Don't be offended, Potter, or go ahead and be offended if you want; I really don't care."

Harry didn't follow Draco down the hall, but watched as he turned a corner and then shrugged and walked to the great hall.

Once seated, he turned to Hermione and Ron. "Well, it seems Draco is alive and well."

"What," both students asked of Harry simultaneously.

"What did he say?"

"Did he look like he'd been dead?"

Harry shrugged. "He's back, so I suppose you can ask him yourselves if you really want to know."

Hermione stared at Harry. "Don't tell me you're going to regress to your childish rivalry after all you've been through together."

Ron looked at Hermione with a slightly bewildered, slightly offended look. "After all what that Harry and Ferret have been through? And who are you calling childish?"

Ah, well, Draco had never been very fond of cream puffs in the morning; as he turned the corner away from Harry, inertia, or momentum or whatever it was made the five cream puffs Draco had on a tray fly off. However, he didn't spare them a glance as he quickly descended into to the dungeons.

What he did spare a glance at was a pair of large hands that came at him from a dark room. "Mmfpgh," Draco exclaimed as one of the hands clamped over his face. The hands hauled him into the dark room, leaving the entire tray victim to inertia or momentum or whatever it was.

Nobody heard the clang as the tray hit the floor, nor did anybody hear the one yelp before Draco Malfoy was knocked unconscious by a cloaked figure in a dark room.