The day that Draco was going to go shopping in Diagon Alley with Father for Hogwarts supplies for his second year, Father told him that they were going to have to make a short stop first.
"Where to, Father?" Draco asked. He saw Mother glance at Father briefly from her newspaper, before returning to the front page.
"Knockturn Alley," Father said. "I have a few things to speak about with an old friend."
Draco frowned a little. This was supposed to be a trip for him, for his Hogwarts supplies. Father must have noticed Draco's expression, because he added,
"I will get you a present there, Draco. Perhaps a racing broom."
Draco brightened.
Knockturn Alley was dark and gloomy, sparse of people, but those people in the alleys and lurking around corners leered at Father and Draco as they walked by, Father with one hand on his cane, standing upright and looking forward. On the way to Knockturn Alley, Father had told Draco about Knockturn Alley, how it had many things and people the Ministry tried to suppress and make illegal, but which flourished in Knockturn Alley.
Draco tried to not show his trepidation, but he kept close to Father. Nonetheless, his slight bit of trepidation couldn't overcome the overwhelming curiosity he felt, passing storefront windows filled with different artifacts.
The store they went into, Borgin and Burkes, was even more interesting. Filled with an amalgam of different objects and artifacts lining the shelves, it looked as though you could find just about everything in it.
Father entered the shop behind Draco and crossed over to the shop counter. He rang the bell sitting there, glanced at Draco, and said,
"Touch nothing, Draco."
Draco had been just reaching towards a glass eye that shone a bit. He frowned and said, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."
"I said I would buy you a racing broom," Father said. He leaned forward a little bit, and Draco shook his head at the slow service.
Racing broom. Perhaps it was being on the way to Diagon Alley to pick up Hogwarts supplies, but Draco was starting to remember more of his annoyances from the previous year. "What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Draco. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor." It had been almost a year and it still irked Draco. "He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous… famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead." He leaned down to look at a shelf of skulls and continued, "everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick-"
"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," Father said, giving Draco a stern look. It was true. Draco had fully informed Father of the preferential treatment that Potter got, and how everyone seemed to favor him, and how everyone thought he was so amazing and could do absolutely no wrong.
"And I would remind you that it is not - prudent - to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear."
So now Draco couldn't even express how horrible Potter was. Wonderful.
Just then, a man appeared behind the counter, with greasy hair and an oily smile.
"Ah, Mr. Borgin," Father said.
"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin. "Delighted. And young Master Malfoy too - charmed."
His tone was layered with carefully concealed condescension that Draco picked up on just because he was trying to become skilled at using that himself, and Draco fought the urge to stick his tongue out at the oily man.
"How may I be of assistance?" Borgin said. "I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced-"
"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," said Father.
"Selling?" A disgruntled expression slid across Borgin's oily features.
"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Father.
Draco looked up, surprised. Father hadn't told him about this. Raids?
Father unrolled and handed a piece of parchment to Borgin. "I have a few - ah - items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call..."
Borgin studied it. "The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"
Draco wanted to repeat the question to Father himself. Surely the Ministry wouldn't come raid their home?
Father looked even more condescending than usual, and said, "I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act - no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it, and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear-"
Draco's attention drifted. It sounded as though Father had it under control, and he was much more interested in the many items that lined the shop. While Father and Borgin talked, Draco's eyes wandered around, resting on a withered hand on a cushion. It was macabre and disturbing, but in a fascinating way.
"Can I have that?" Draco asked, pointing to it.
Borgin instantly came over form behind the counter. "Ah, the Hand of Glory! Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."
Draco looked at Father, hoping he would say yes. Father simply said coldly, "I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin."
"No offense, sir, no offense meant-"
Of course he wouldn't be a thief or plunderer, Draco thought. How utterly horrible that would be. What a disrespected profession.
"Though if his grades don't pick up," Father said, his tone frigid, "that may indeed be all he is fit for-"
Draco pursed his lips as Father said that, at first determined not to argue with Father in front of a stranger, but he couldn't help himself, and burst out, "It's not my fault! The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger-"
"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Father.
Draco flushed and looked down at his feet. It was true, Granger had beaten him in all his exams, no matter how hard he tried, and as wonderful as his grades had been in all his classes, it was nothing if he let a muggleborn beat him.
"It's the same all over," he heard Borgin say. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere-"
"Not with me," said Father.
"No, sir, nor with me, sir," said Borgin.
"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," said Father. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today-"
"Of course, of course," Borgin said. He pulled the list of items towards him again and began to haggle with Father. Draco didn't care about any of that, and returned to looking around the shop. He examined a coil of hangman's rope, and then a cursed opal necklace. He turned and saw a cabinet. Wondering if there were more interesting things inside, Draco reached to open it, just when Father said,
"Done. Come, Draco-"
Draco turned away from the cabinet as Father said his farewell to Borgin.
As they left Borgin and Burkes, Draco said to Father,
"Raids? Why?"
Father scoffed a little. "The Ministry thinks that they have the right to enter peoples' homes and take away their property because it has been classified as dangerous."
"That's not fair," Draco said. "It's property for a reason."
"Precisely," Father said. Draco wasn't sure why, but Father looked slightly proud just then.
The best part of the trip was going to Quality Quidditch Supplies and Father buying Draco a new Nimbus Two Thousand and One. Draco was overjoyed and excited. Flying was going to be so much better, and with this and his Quidditch skills he was sure to get on the Slytherin team.
Potter would die from jealousy.
Later, they headed to Flourish and Blotts for Draco's year two schoolbooks. Upon reading Draco's list of required books, Father had scoffed at the author's name.
"Gilderoy Lockhard," he said coldly. "That man is a blundering idiot. Of course Dumbledore would hire him."
"Did you go to Hogwarts with him, Father?"
"No," Father said. "He's ten years younger than I am. But a man that foolish… you hear stories. Don't take a word he says seriously, Draco. From what I've heard, I would be surprised if he knew one end of his wand from the other."
Draco and Father slipped into the front door, and the sight that greeted them made Draco stop in his tracks. Potter, Harry Potter, was standing arm and arm with a beaming blonde man who was Lockhart judging by the portrait on the poster and the books he was brandishing. A man stood there snapping pictures while the whole crowd watched.
"Just a minute, Draco," Father said, his eyes gliding over the crowd. He stepped away.
Draco saw Potter slipping away to the edge of the room, and followed.
When he reached Potter, he sneered, "Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?"
Potter turned, just finished depositing a huge stack of books into the cauldron that a girl with flame colored hair - most likely a Weasley - was holding. "Famous Harry Potter," Draco continued. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."
"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" the Weasley girl said. Her eyes blazed at Draco.
"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend," Draco said, looking away from her glare. He was delighted to see her flush red in his peripheral vision. Just then, the most annoying Weasley made his way over, along with Granger.
"Oh, it's you," said Weasley, looking at Draco with disgust. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"
"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," Draco snapped back. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those." He nodded at the stack of books Weasley was holding.
Weasley flushed a color to match his hair and, dumping his books in the Weasley girl's cauldron, started towards Draco. Draco resisted the urge to jerk back; he didn't need to; Weasley was held back by Potter and Granger.
"Ron!" a voice came. A somewhat pathetic red haired man made his way over, accompanied by the Weasley twins, who were a couple years older than Draco. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."
Just then, a hand fell on Draco's shoulder. Draco stilled and glanced to the side. Father had arrived.
"Well, well, well - Arthur Weasley."
Mr. Weasley nodded, his face stone. "Lucius."
"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Father. "All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?" Father reached into the Weasley girl's cauldron and reached out an old, worn book - A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.
"Obviously not," Father said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"
Mr. Weasley turned even more red than his son or daughter had moments before. Draco smirked a little.
"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Weasley said.
"Clearly," said Father. He looked over at two adults standing behind Granger. They must've been her parents. Muggles. "The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower."
Mr. Weasley dove at Father. The cauldron and books went flying. Draco ducked out of the way as Weasley knocked father backward into a bookshelf. Spellbooks crashed down on their heads. All of the Weasleys were hollering. Draco backed up against a wall in the chaos and the crowd thundered backwards and shelves crashed down.
People were shouting and hollering, some cheering Weasley on, and others trying to break up the fight.
Just then, there was a loud voice saying "break it up, there, gents, break it up-"
The large figure of Hagrid waded through the books and jerked Father and Mr. Weasley apart. Mr. Weasley's lip was bleeding, and Father's eye was red. It had been hit, Draco recognized.
Father was still holding the Weasley's girl's old book. He thrust it at her.
"Here, girl - take your book - it's the best your father can give you." He jerked away from Hagrid and jerked his head to Draco. Draco hurried towards him and together they swept out of the shop, Father angrily straightening his robes.
Draco knew better than to talk about what had just happened.