Chapter 1:
Decisions, Decisions
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, UK
June 21, 1995
Draco Malfoy glanced out the window at the bright, clear morning as he lazily finished buttoning his robes. It was perfect flying weather, and he intended to take full advantage of it. Behind him, a house elf knocked timidly on the door and slipped into the room.
"Pardon, Master Draco, but Mistress is wanting you downstairs. There is guests, Master Draco."
Frowning in annoyance Draco peered intently into the mirror and impatiently brushed his hair back, ignoring the elf.
"Master Draco? Did—"
"Yes, yes, I heard. Go away; I'll be down when I'm ready and not a moment before."
Bowing and stammering, the elf slipped out again. Grimacing at his reflection he mimicked, "There is guests." He adjusted the cuffs on his robes and took another critical look in the now smirking mirror.
"Stop fussing, you look fine." He rolled his eyes at the mirror as he strode out of the room. He headed for the lower salon where his mother would be waiting with her guests. He dawdled along as much as he could and entered the salon only when he could no longer avoid it. To his surprise and pleasure, it was not his mother who waited with the guests, but his grandmother.
Madeleine Malfoy was the daunting matriarch of the Malfoy family. She was willow-slim and pale, revealing her veela heritage. Her grey eyes were sharp and coolly intelligent. His grandmother didn't visit the Manor much anymore. She adored her grandson – a feeling that was very mutual – but was often at odds with her son. As a result, she rarely came north but stayed in her chateau just outside of Dijon. His summers were often split between the two places.
"Grand-mère! Grandmother" he said by way of greeting. "I didn't know you were coming to visit." He bent to kiss her cheek.
"I haven't heard from you since you got home; I've been feeling neglected." There was just a hint of reproach in his grandmother's voice as she reached up to hug him.
"I'm sorry. Father's been busy at the Ministry and I haven't had the chance to ask," he replied. A low 'harrumph!' reminded Draco of their guests and he turned to face them. Before he could say anything, his grandmother cut in.
"Where have my manners gone? Draco, this is Professor Taka Kenoji and her associate, Professor Peregrine Santirez. Professors, my grandson, Draco."
Santirez, a thin, olive skinned man with a shock of grey hair and startling blue eyes, visibly gritted his teeth when his grandmother introduced him.
Draco nodded in their direction. "Nice to meet you Professors," he offered, biting back a smile as Santirez fought a grimace.
Kenoji's voice was low, silky, and undeniably female. "It is our pleasure to make your acquaintance as well. Although I do believe Peregrine would prefer to be called 'Master Santirez'. Where we come from, the title 'Professor' is reserved for administration."
He replied, "Oh" with a non-committal air. Kenoji's brown hair was pulled back into a tidy braid and her eyes were alight with good-natured amusement; over his response or Santirez' discomfort he couldn't say. Her features seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place them. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
Her eyebrows lifted. "Most likely not. The last time I saw you, you were a week old and sound asleep."
It was his turn to let his eyebrows lift. "A week old? Are you a friend of my parents?"
Santirez coughed and Kenoji looked vaguely uncomfortable. However, it was his grandmother who answered. "Taka was a schoolmate of your father's. She was here at that time to discuss your education. A task that she is once again pursuing."
"Oh." Draco wondered why this woman would be so interested in his education, but refrained from asking. He studied the pair for a moment. "You're going to be teaching at Hogwarts this year?"
Again, his grandmother answered. "No, but it wouldn't matter even if they were. You are no longer a student there."
He whirled around to face her. "What are you talking about?"
"I withdrew your enrollment yesterday." Her grey eyes were cold and uncompromising, though her voice was gentle. Draco's eyes had darkened to the color of storm clouds and were blazing with fury.
"You withdrew my enrollment," he repeated slowly, his eyes on her face. At her quiet affirmative, his hands clenched into fists and he took a step forward. "How dare you. How dare you. What gives you the right to rearrange my life without even asking? What gives you the right dictate my life, my future without regard for my feelings or my plans? I am not a house elf to be ordered about and I will not stand for this!"
"I am this family's matriarch. The family's well-being is under my care. The last time I checked, you were a member of this family." When he moved to speak, she held up her hand. At that moment, her face seemed incredibly weary. "No. You need a more complete education than Hogwarts or your father can give you. The Institute provides that and more. You leave in two weeks. I suggest you start packing."
"What do you mean, 'a more complete education'?" Draco demanded, ignoring his grandmother's 'suggestion' to pack. "Hogwarts' curriculum might be somewhat lacking, but Father's been filling in the gaps."
"There is more than magic to learn, Draco. And you must learn."
"More than magic?" he sneered. "Sounds like you're turning into a muggle-lover, Grand-mère. Going 'round the bend, are you?"
"I am in full possession of my faculties, boy. However, you seem to be disregarding the necessity of broadening your education. And it is a necessity."
"There is no reason I need any training other than magical," he said flatly.
"Au contraire, my young friend," Professor Kenoji said cheerfully as she leaned forward in her chair. "'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio.' Quote from Shakespeare's Hamlet. There is a place, and a people, that lie between the muggle and magical worlds. Mostly they are muggles whose brain cells have evolved to create some amazing abilities. Sometimes they are magicals who manage to step beyond where most minds tread. Either way, they are referred to as psychics and they are neither one nor the other, but somehow both.
"They manifest a wide range of powers. These powers include, but are not limited to, the following: telepathy, empathy, extra-sensory perception, telekinesis, and energy channeling. The Regency Institute for Psychic Development was founded to learn about and educate these people.
"You are one of those people, Draco. So is your father, though he'd prefer not to admit it. Your father ignores his gift, Draco. He has the strength, discipline, and training needed to ignore it. But you do not have those luxuries. You must learn them, as he did. Otherwise, you risk madness at best, death at worst.
"Will you let us teach you?"
Draco stared blankly at her while his mind whirled around the information he'd just been given. The phrase, 'you risk madness at best, death at worst.' kept echoing through his head. "Do I have a choice?"
"Only if you consider madness or death viable options, I'm afraid." At that moment, a bright 'brring!' issued from Kenoji's pocket. She reached in and removed a small silver rectangle. She glanced at it, stood up and said, "I'm terribly sorry, but I really must take this." She moved away from them, speaking into the device.
There was long, tense silence after she left. Draco firmly resisted looking at his grandmother and studied the wall just above Santirez' head instead. A few moments later, Kenoji returned.
"I'm very sorry, Madeleine, but Peregrine and I must beg your leave. An emergency at home. Would you mind if we use the floo?"
"No, of course not. Is everything all right?"
"My sister just lost control of her power and we need to do some damage control. Could you show Peregrine how the floo works? I'd like a word with Draco," she offered with an apologetic smile. His grandmother swallowed and nodded, leading Santirez away. Once they were gone, Kenoji turned back to him. "I must offer you an apology as well. Undoubtedly, you have a thousand questions – questions that I'll do my best to answer. If it's agreeable, I'll return in three days time to answer your questions and cover any other necessary information. Does teatime work for you?"
He stared into space for a moment while his brain struggled to deal with something so…mundane. When he did speak, his voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else. "Fine."
Her face shone with compassion. "I have just one more thing to ask of you. I need you to keep a journal of the events in the coming weeks and what you feel and think about them. It needs to be kept daily, and you do not need to share it with anyone if you don't want to. You may be asked to look through it and provide information, but you don't need to let anyone read it." She paused briefly to study his blank face. "All right?"
"Yeah. Journal. Fine."
She smiled. "Good. I've got to dash, see you Monday."