Chapter One The Returned
He opened his light grey eyes.
Draco Malfoy was still out of focus, but he thought there was a good chance he was about to meet Merlin: the furnishings around him were typically Slytherin-esque. He blinked and thought back to what he had just experienced: the Fiendfire that had destroyed the entire Room of Requirement, the death of Crabbe ... There was red and green light from wands everywhere, and he fought ... He walked towards Voldemort and sent a death spell and fell himself, his parents screamed ...
For a long time he was in darkness until he heard three voices calling out his name. The voices came from a distance and sounded somewhat distorted: one of them was the voice of a man he had never heard before, most likely Merlin; two others were the voices of his parents, as if they were close at hand.
"Mum? Dad?" He tried to answer, then was surprised to find that his voice was not only hoarse it had actually turned into a child's voice. Merlin's beard, what was going on!
"Dray, you're finally awake!" Yes, it was the voice of his mother, Narcissa Malfoy. He stared blankly at what was in front of him: his mother was staring at him tearfully, and behind her stood none other than his father, Lucius Malfoy. They looked much younger, a little haggard, but their faces were still delicate and not at all what they had looked like during Voldemort's later reign.
Then he heard a knock at the door and one man and a woman in white robes opened it. The woman also had a tray in her hand and looked like the man's assistant. They came to his left hand, and at the same time Narcissa stood up and tested her eyes with her handkerchief.
"Good day, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Malfoy. With your permission, I will perform a physical examination on young Mr. Malfoy." The man had just the right amount of smile on his face.
The Malfoys nodded, and then the man went about his business. After a few moments, the man said to the Malfoys, "You can rest assured that young Mr. Malfoy is in good health. As long as he rest for a while, he can leave. " Then, with a few words to the lady assistant beside him, he went out with Lucius.
Draco slowly came to terms with the fact that he was a child as he dutifully cooperated with the doctor's examination, but how could this have been done? Wasn't he already dead? Was it just a dream he had? If it was a dream, how could it be so realistic? Furthermore, he should have woken up in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor, not in St Mungo's Hospital? There was something odd going on here!
The man's assistant at the side quickly prepared the potions that Draco would be drinking over the next few days. She handed them to Narcissa, and with a few instructions. She gathered up the tray and left the room with them. Just in time Lucius also came in from his conversation.
The Malfoys were the only ones left in the room. Narcissa stroked Draco's hair lovingly, and Lucius had a stern face, but his eyes revealed his worry for his son.
They had a short conversation afterwards, Draco responding to his parents in a tone appropriate to his current age, again duly showing that he was low on energy and wanted to rest for a while. In fact, he was going to call Dona in once his parents had left and ask her everything.
Dona was one of their family's house elf. They have three others in the family: Dodger, Dobby and Doduo. Doduo is still a newborn house elf and can't do much talking yet, so she is currently being looked after by Dona, who is the same gender as her. Dodger is Lucius' usual one, and he can't call it that. As for Dobby, that crazy elf, asking him about things is bound to make him half mad at himself, as he always talks out of turn. So Dobby got more beatings than anyone else.
But Narcissa said she would watch over Draco until he fell asleep, and Draco knew he couldn't argue with that, so he complied.
Soon, he was in a deep sleep again.
The next day was a rare fine day in London.
Draco awoke to the sun shining on a bedside table that was already piled high with gifts of all kinds. Narcissa sat in a chair beside the bed, turning the pages of a book in her hands.
Madam Malfoy was today wearing a long pale green dress with a high collar and small buttons, with loose sleeves that tightened only ten centimetres from the smallest arm to the palm of her hand. Her blonde hair follows the path of her head, gathered in a fishtail braid on each side from the top of her head to her temples, with the rest of her hair cascading. On her head she wears a small white hat, the netting on top of which hides her delicate face, appearing hidden and glowing from the bright sunlight, and a pair of horse-bead studs are pinned to her earlobes. In her hands she holds a clutch bag of the same colour, and on her feet she wears cream-coloured high heels.
Seeing her son awake, she closes the book and looks at him with a smile, "Good morning, my dear Dray. What would you like to eat?"
Draco shook his head and propped his hands on the bed trying to sit up. Narcissa got up and helped him put a pillow behind him, squeezed the covers back on him, sat down next to him and then asked, "What about those presents? Which one does my dear Dray want to open first?"
Draco still shook his head, and he smelt the scent of his mother's body to one side only to feel at peace. The figure that had stood against him and sheltered him since his father had been imprisoned in Azkaban had disappeared and he had been forced to grow up and stand by his mother and protect her. No longer able to lean carefree and pamper himself in his mother's arms as he once did, his childhood was finally aborted. He was no longer a Draco but a Malfoy, a Malfoy man who was meant to shoulder the responsibility of guarding the entire family ... And now, like a true child, he flung himself into his mother's arms for comfort. Draco hugged his mother so tightly that he wrinkled the clothes she was wearing, but Narcissa didn't care. She wrapped her arms lovingly around her child, stroking his golden hair and gently patting his back. Feeling his mother's movements, Draco buried his face into her arms again.
Mother and son hugged for a few moments before Draco withdrew from his mother's arms and looked up to ask, "Mum, why am I at St. Mungo's?"
"Originally, on your birthday, your father and I threw a party for you. But the day before, you received offers of admission from three schools. Your father and I were overjoyed, and so were you, and then you had a magical riot. We had you treated at St. Mungo's after that, and you were in a coma for a whole month. So naturally the birthday party was cancelled." Narcissa said as she stroked Draco's little cheek.
Instinct told himself that mother was hiding something. Draco blinked and asked again, "Three schools? Are those the three schools I was thinking of, Mum?"
"Yes, dear, the same three schools you were thinking of: Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. They all sent you offers of admission."
"But mum, I have no recollection of that."
"Oh, dear, you've been in a coma for a whole month. It's inevitable that your memory will be fuzzy, the healer says that's normal. And that it will come back to you naturally when you've recuperated."
"Oh, okay." Draco looked convinced, but in reality he was still ready to carry out his plan. Narcissa smiled and rubbed his little head.
"So, mum, which school will you let me go to?" Draco looked down and played with his fingers for a moment before looking up again and asking his mother a question.
"Which school do you want to go to, sweetheart?"
"Without a doubt - Hogwarts!"
"That's in line with the school we chose to send you to."
"Really?" Draco blinked his puzzled light grey eyes. He clearly remembered when his father had wanted to send him to Durmstrang, but had been turned down by his mother because it was too far from home. How had it been decided so smoothly that it was Hogwarts this time?
"In fact, at first I held a different view from your father, but eventually I convinced him not to let you go to Durmstrang but to Hogwarts. For one thing, it's tradition that every pure-blooded Malfoy graduates from Hogwarts, which is our common alma mater. Secondly, Durmstrang is too far away from home and I couldn't let my dear Dray be too far away from home, mum would be sad. Dray couldn't let go either, could he?" At the end of the sentence, Narcissa teased Draco.
Draco was surprised by the rare bluntness of his mother. Narcissa had never been a very introspective person. Although she had never said it outright to her face in her last life, in reality Narcissa doted on her only son and couldn't bear to have him too far away from her. And it was only later that Draco himself learned about it from his father and the house elf, but why did mother say it straight out this time?
"Yes, Mother, I couldn't leave you either." Draco looked at Narcissa with steely eyes and said determinedly, hugging his mother tightly once more.
Narcissa hugged him back just as tightly and dropped a kiss on his forehead before speaking, "So Draco, can you promise me one thing?"
Draco looked up, "What is it, Mother?"
Light grey eyes met with black eyes.
"Never set foot in Malfoy Manor where your father and I would not allow you to go, can you do that?"
"I promise, Mother. I promise you that I will never step foot in Malfoy Manor where you and my father would not allow me to go."
Mother and son looked at each other in silence. It was only after a long moment that Narcissa curled her lips, stroked her son's head and said, "I believe you will, Dray, I believe you."
Narcissa waved her wand and the time was displayed: 3.15pm on 6 July, 1991.
"What's the matter, Mum? Are you going to some kind of party?"
"Yes, dear. I'm going to a small salon later. How about you just stay here and rest and open presents or write back to your friends when you're free?"
"Yes, Mum. I will," Draco answered his mother, putting on a good face. He knew that his chance was coming. So now the closer he was to success, the less impatient he could be.
Narcissa got up and straightened her clothes before leaning down and giving Draco a kiss on the forehead, "Bye, Draco."
"Bye, Mum."
Narcissa walked out the door and as she closed it she smiled at Draco.
"Click," the door was closed.
Draco sat on the bed and waited quietly for a moment, his eyes downcast, hiding the look in them. After a moment, he said in a deep voice, "Dona."
A popping sound was followed by the appearance of a small domesticated elf wearing an old pillowcase with a few holes cut in its arms and legs. It shook for a moment, then bowed deeply towards Draco: "My young master, may I ask... May I ask what your orders are?"
Draco's eyelids lifted and he swept Dona away, his voice turning ghostly cold, "Tell me why I am in St. Mungo's Hospital. Not to miss even a word."
Dona ducked in fear, but afterwards she replied in a trembling voice: "A month ago, on young master birthday, the owl sent three letters. Young master were overjoyed to read them, as were His Lordship and Her Ladyship. But then young master had a magical riot that almost destroyed your bedroom and the manor's basement. His Lordship and Her Ladyship were so frightened that they rushed you to St Mungo's Hospital for treatment. But young master didn't wake up for a month, and His Lordship and Her Ladyship were frantic, searching for the best doctors, but they couldn't do anything. At last young master have woken up."
Draco frowned as he listened, Dona's story matched his mother's, the difference being that Dona had mentioned his bedroom and the basement of the manor. But when had there been a basement on the estate that he didn't know about?
"Dona, let me ask you again, what is that basement for?"
"Dona doesn't know either, and Dona first learned of that place after the accident with the young master."
Draco looked at Dona's respectful face and knew that its words were true, and knowing that he would not be able to get anything out of it, he said, "Understood. Do not tell anyone, including my parents, that I am looking for you today, remember?"
"Yes, Dona remembers." Dona bent down respectfully once more and said back.
Draco waved a hand, indicating that it could leave on its own. Dona then disappeared in response.
Draco crossed his arms against his forehead and pondered: a month ago, three letters, a magic riot, the bedroom, the basement, St. Mungo's Hospital. There was always something suspicious about these clues strung together.
Every young wizard develops a magic riot at a young age, and old pure-blooded families have accumulated, over the years, a number of ways to channel a child's magic in order to deal with it. A child who grew up in a wizard's family would have been too old for a magical riot at the age of eleven, and how could he have had a magical riot just because he was accepted to three schools? So it was the basement that was in doubt. This was reinforced by the promise mother had just given me - Never set foot in Malfoy Manor where your father and I would not allow you to go.
But it was also because of that promise that he could not go to the so-called basement to find out what was going on. Although the Malfoys was known behind their back as the wallflower of the wizarding world, always ready to change their position to avoid danger, they was willing to work for their family. But when it came to family, they were willing to do anything for them, even if it meant their own lives. For this reason, it was impossible to go to that basement and find out what had happened that day.
Finding himself in a dead end, Draco rubbed his blonde hair in annoyance until he had messed them up.
Will find a solution afterwards, just have to put this aside for now too. Draco thought discouragingly.
He glanced aside at the bedside table that was filled with a bevy of gifts, some with greeting cards on top. He knew that most of them were just a bunch of nonsensical greetings that he could recite: I hear you're recovering from your illness and wish you a speedy recovery or something like that. Draco didn't even want to look at them, he just threw them in the fireplace and burnt them to a crisp.
His father had given him the newest Nimbus 2000, the broomstick he had been longing for, but Lucius had always refused his request on the grounds that first-year students were not allowed to bring their own , and no amount of persuasion had made him change his mind. Lucius was unable to change his mind. After being 11 again and getting what he wanted, Draco couldn't be happy. After all, he was no longer the carefree child he used to be.
Mum's gift was a dragon skin pocket. Draco took it and opened it up, it was full of sweets and cakes and snacks that his mother had made for him by hand. Narcissa's magic ensured that there was always food in the pockets, which required great magical mastery - joining the two pockets together on the basis of a stretching spell, interoperable and at the same time ensuring that the food was fresh. Draco picked up one of the cakes and put it in his mouth; well, it still tasted the same. Every time he tasted food made by his mother's hands, whatever worries he had would vanish. Draco's irritable, down mood was instantly soothed by the treats his mother had made and he became cheerful.
Pansy's gift came next, and thinking about Pansy reminded Draco of the story of how they both used to be: in third year they had some hazy feelings for each other, and then in fourth year they tried to get together. At first Draco thought he liked Pansy, but then he finally figured out that although he loved Pansy, it wasn't love but affection. But he despicably continued to enjoy Pansy's goodness and continued the relationship in name only until the day the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts and they finally parted ways. Now that nothing had begun and he had recognised his feelings, then some mistakes need not have happened.
Pansy had given him a tie clip. Draco felt a bit of a headache. It seemed better to make some things clear when he got to school.
After that came the gifts from the others, most of which were rare knick-knacks. Draco held them in his hands for a while and then put them aside. He was feeling a bit tired now, so he was going to lean back and take a nap.
Within a few moments, he fell asleep.
-TBC-