Answers to reviews:

pinksparklez – Dumbledore did not want Harry to guess that

Petunia was a HBS therefore she needed to treat

him as a complete inferior.

Dwntwndanbrwn – Yes. The Ministry came up with the idea in a

Council meeting in 1863, after a man called

Lysander Hummingdale became jealous of his

wizarding sister, Esther. (just made that up, by

the way!)

III: Narcissa's Promise

Narcissa Malfoy sat alone in her mansion, crying. She had done a lot of that since Lucius left, and even more after Draco's departure. She had decided that she would go and live with her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange. Although she and her sibling had had minor discrepancies in the past, they both served the same leader, and it would be less visits for Voldemort to make if the two Death Eaters resided in the same building.

Narcissa sniffed. She had cried herself to sleep for over a month now, and she needed to do something about it. She couldn't wallow in self-pity for all her life, could she? She would seek guidance from the Dark Lord himself, pleading for him to help, tell her how to run her own life – no! Voldemort would only punish her for not taking revenge upon Harry Potter for being behind the arrest of her husband, or even upon Severus Snape, a man whom she had trusted with her own son's life, and had failed her, stealing Draco.

"Please," she sniffed, she had taken up hopelessly talking to herself as there was no one else around, "Lucius, Draco, come home!"

"Mother?" A voice from behind her gave her a fright, and she jolted upright and quickly turned, drawing her rosewood wand from her pocket. She squealed and ran into her son's arms, holding him tightly as if he were about to go away again.

"You're back!" she cried, not letting go, "Why did you let me stay like this, worried sick, weeping perpetually, wondering what Snape had done to you. I saw that Dumbledore had been slain and silently rejoiced until I read that you were missing, and, what's more – you didn't kill him. I know I disapproved of doing something so important in your youth, but I did think that you could manage it. What came over you?" Narcissa was an angry mother now, the tearstains that had previously saturated her clothes, looking almost invisible, as if her fury had covered them up.

"I – I – don't know. I just couldn't. I saw him there, just a weak old man, and I thought 'he hasn't done me any harm, in fact, he has hosted me well through six whole years of education, so why should I murder him?'"

Draco's mother looked as if she had just been hit by a wet fish.

"You're turning soft," she sniffed, shocked at what her normally arduous son had just said, "just like Dumbledore was, and Harry Potter still is."

Draco scoffed and brushed his mother off of him.

"How dare you!" he exclaimed, as if she had said something terrible, "You have no right! Severus told me how emotional you were when you turned up with Aunt Bellatrix at Spinner's End."

It was Narcissa's turn to look taken aback with rage, "Where is that insolent, conniving fool? Has he scampered off, worried what I would say to him about stealing my child like that? I hope the Dark Lord has a penalty in mind to repent him for what he has done. "

"He has done exactly what you just said."

"But Death Eaters stand tall!"

Narcissa and Draco put their left hands flat out against each other as they repeated the words of the incantation made to create a miniature Dark Mark in their right hands, which were stretched out to the heavens: "Morsmordre Dexterus!"

The skull and snake emblems hovered just above the palms of both mother and son. Eventually they faded.

"Now, mother. Now do you believe in my faith?"

"Of course, my darling. I never doubted it."

"And I'll be able to demonstrate it in Hogwarts in September!"

"No," said Narcissa firmly, "as much as I want you to be educated fully, I think that that would be a very bad idea."

"But Dumbledore has gone forever," pleaded Draco.

"But McGonagall is still at large," replied his mother, with a definite hint of finality in her voice, "and anyway, I have a great plan."

"What?" asked Draco, suddenly excited.

"Well," said Narcissa, beginning to smile for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, "although you are back, we are just as we were last September. We are still missing out on the head of the Malfoy table, the backbone to our family life……"

"We're going to steal Father?"

"Correct, my son. We will get your father from the dreaded Azkaban, although I am certainly not looking forward to going back there after last time. We will redeem Lucius's name back to the former glory that it boasted. The Malfoys will return to the Dark Lord's favour, and we will rise, rise to the top and bask in the light of others' terror!"

Draco smiled at his mother's uninterrupted enthusiasm, and felt like a curmudgeon when he spoke.

"When shall we depart?"

"Well, I need a thorough wash, I have been bathing less and less since my bout of depression. I also need to arrange a visiting time with the guards. Entering boldly is surprisingly less conspicuous than sneaking in."

"I completely agree mother. Shall I go and contact the prison now?"

"I suppose," Narcissa stopped suddenly and looked into the cold, stony grey eyes of her son, "I am so very proud of you, Draco. Always remember that."