Chapter 8

The way things were supposed to be

Petunia sat in a muggle taxi that was taking her to King's Cross. She stared out of the window at the suburban scenery that she was leaving behind. Soon she will once again be standing in the house of her parents, the house where it all began. She was going home.

She was nervous, and nauseous, and more than a little scared, but she was also excited. Excited in a way that would not let her admit it even to herself. It turned out that after spending so many years pretending to be someone else, she actually wanted to go home. She wanted to see the place where her family was once happy… before their parents died and all of the sisters went their separate ways.

Petunia sighed. She has been sighing a lot these days. The soon to be former Mrs Dursley, had a lot on her mind.

Here she was, in the midst of her life's biggest crisis and she was running away from it. She did not want to stay and deal. It was easier to simply run away. No one could blame her for doing this, after all this was not the first time she has done it. She has once before escaped a similar disaster. And she has done so by retreating into a life among the muggles.

Now Petunia was about to do the reverse. Today was the day. Today, she was going back to the magical world for the first time since she graduated Hogwarts.

Harry opened his eyes and for the tenth time that morning attempted to pull himself up in bed. It wasn't an easy task. For many days now, he has not been able to function properly. He could not keep lying to himself. Spending every night in semi consciousness while repeating over and over again that tomorrow the weariness will go away and he will be as good as new, was not working. Harry has had enough of self denial. At this point a trip to the doctor was inevitable.

He tried to get up one more time and failing to do so, called a house elf to help him.

Fifteen minutes later he was on his feet, dressed, showered, and nearly ready to leave. The only problem was that he couldn't move very well. His body ached in protest with every step he took, coaxing Harry back into bed. Every single limb and muscle he possessed felt like it was dying.

He considered asking Draco to take him to hospital, but something told him that his friend wouldn't want to be bothered just then. Finding Lucius was out of question and going to St. Mungo's with Narcissa would prove to be far too awkward. So after giving it a quick thought, Harry practically crawled to the downstairs living room, hanging on to walls and railings for dear life. Grabbing a handful of floo powder from the pretty blue vase, he knelt with difficulty in front the fireplace. Throwing the dusty particles in and shaking his hand off, Harry Potter stuck his head into the fire.

It reappeared in another fire several seconds later. Caleb, who was in the process of eating an omelet in his mom's cozy little kitchen, was facing away from the fireplace and nearly jumped at hearing Harry's voice behind him.

"Hey" said Harry. "There's something wrong with me. I need help. Literally. I can barely move by myself. Will you take me to St. Mungo's?"

Caleb stared at Harry for about five seconds before blurting out the first thing that came to mind, -

"H-hh-arry. Whatddaya, uhh.. who what.. uh...Draco.." "Please," Harry cut him off. "But, Of course mate. Hold on, I just have to get dressed and tell my parents." Caleb could hear the pain in Harry's voice and figured he couldn't waste much time inquiring what happened and why he wasn't with Draco. He immediately abandoned the remains of his breakfast and ran out of the room as fast as he could.

The Ralis family was pureblood, but did not have nearly as much money as the Potters or the Malfoys. Their house was quite comfortable and nice, but by the rich man's standard it was most definitely small. Even the fireplace in which Harry's head was located at the moment was rather cramped and consequently made one feel somewhat claustrophobic. Thankfully Harry did not have to stay there long, for Caleb was already sprinting down the stairs less than two minutes later. Harry exhaled hastily in relief, choked on a few stray ashes and pulled himself out of the fire and back into the Malfoy Manor. Ten seconds later that same fire turned green and Caleb joined him in the Malfoy living room.

"Oh my… Let's go." he said as soon as he saw Harry up close. His voice was firm and his posture rigid and determined.

"What?" his friend asked and moved a few feet to the left to glance into one of Mrs. Malfoy's numerous antic mirrors. "Aaa!" was all that he could manage upon seeing the reflection. His skin looked positively green, his eyes were clouded over with a weird shade of gray and little red streaks were running around his pupils. "Jesus!" he spoke again, after studying himself a little longer.

"Yeah.." came Caleb's nervous voice from nearby. He no longer sounded determined, and actually looked like he was going to be sick. "We really should get going mate. You don't look good and the longer I look at you, the worse I am beginning to feel…"

"Ok." Harry was still staring at himself, having a hard time tearing his eyes away from the mirror. Finally he managed to do so and turned to face his friend. "Ok. The floo powder is in that blue vase. Grab some and help me into the fire."

"Jen!" a thin, redheaded girl was yelling at her friend. "Jen, hello! Earth to Jenni!"

"Huh?" the brunette she was talking to, finally responded. "I'm sorry I must have zoned out."

"Yeah you have! I have been trying to get your attention for over ten minutes now!" the first girl said with a smile on her face, while pretending to be angry. But then all pretense disappeared when she added -"If this is about Harry again, then I am honestly going to hit you. It has been two weeks! Even a troll would know by now that he is just-not-that-into-you!!"

"Please, Carla, leave me be. I don't want your advice, I didn't ask for sympathy and I am not hoping for your compassion. I promise. I am fine. Even if I am still thinking about him, it is solely my problem," the second girl half-heartedly snapped back. "And none of your business," she decided to add when she saw Carla opening her mouth again, getting ready to argue.

"Fine. Wallow in it for all I care. But I personally would have sent him a nasty curse in the mail by now and moved on to someone else!" She yelled throwing her friend a dirty look, and raising her nose high in the air, heroically stormed off.

"What makes you so sure I didn't?" Jen whispered to herself, as Carla walked away.

Father and son were sitting on the bed, and the mother stood directly behind her child, several steps away from the two of them. On the edge of the bed, at an equal distance from both Lucius and Draco, laid what appeared to be an old and hefty locket. (Only oneof the things that Draco found in the study and took with him as proof.)

The locket, or amulet rather, was very old and slightly tarnished. But even enveloped in the century old dirt it looked nothing short of magnificent. Its entire being reeked of something sinister and the magical aura around it was evidently dark. It didn't open, even though it had a deep contour running on the side, splitting it in half.

Draco didn't know exactly why his parents regarded him as stupid, except that they really must have regarded him as so, since only an idiot wouldn't know what this thing was. Made from solid gold, charmed shut by the evilest of magics and engraved with a large letter S on the front - it practically gave itself away. Draco has read a lot about magical artifacts in his five years at Hogwarts, he has studied Dark Arts books at home, and he has certainly seen enough of such relics at the various pureblood houses to be able to recognize one with ease. Especially this one. There was no doubt in his mind that he knew exactly what this amulet was. He would almost be willing to stake his life on it, except that he wasn't that stupid.

"Do you see now why I couldn't tell you anything?" Lucius was saying in a quiet, caring voice. He appeared to be eerily calm, sitting on his own bed, half dressed. He was looking straight into Draco's eyes, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to reassure a panic stricken Narcissa, that he had everything under control. His son was much less calm, but it was obvious that his temper was gradually stabilizing with every sentence that his father uttered.

"I need you to understand and to accept the fact that I didn't tell you this before. I am telling you now and asking your forgiveness. It wasn't you I was protecting, I knew very well that you could take care of yourself. You are a strong boy, Draco. There is no doubt about that. I was trying to prolong the time when I would need to protect the rest of the world from you."

Lucius had just finished telling his son, what on some level, he has always known. Yet Draco was still blown away. His mind was processing the information but it still refused to accept it as truth.

"You are the heir of Slytherin.

The youngest descendant of the great house of Gaunts."

His mother's voice seemed distant, powerful and cold. She was now standing next to Lucius, with a hand on her husband's shoulder, speaking these words to him vigilantly, mysteriously… as if in a dream. Narcissa was reiterating what her husband has just explained.

You are the heir of Slytherin, the words echoed in Draco's mind. The words were etching themselves simultaneously, as his mother was speaking them, onto the insides of his closed eyelids in big bold letters. He blinked, making the words disappear and revealing his parents sitting before him instead.He closed them again and this time his father's study swam into view. The Dark Marks, the Death Eater cloaks, the thousands of old and new, completed and ongoing, meticulously written out maps and plans…

… of destruction… of murder… of blood.
As he sat there dumbstruck, being anxiously watched by his parents, his face slowly started to twitch. Little by little, fighting its way out of him, a cold and conceited smile appeared on Draco's paper-thin lips.