Approximately ten years later, Mrs. and Mr. Malfoy were dressing and heading to breakfast while their son Draco was sat bouncing up and down on top of his packed trunk. Draco's slender frame showed off years of picky eating and his hair was as white as the day he was born. The only thing new about Draco was the set of robes he had on. Otherwise his feet were bare and, as usual, his wand was clutched in one hand. Draco had had his wand since he could remember but he knew that he wasn't allowed to tell anyone about that lest the wrong type of wizard catch wind. The legal time for Draco to receive his wand was supposed to be a few months ago when he'd turned eleven, because the Ministry of Magic didn't seem to care how ludicrous it was to keep a young pure-blooded witch or wizard away from their wands for eleven whole years. How was Draco supposed to do anything without a wand? He wasn't, apparently. If the Ministry had their way Draco would still be calling for his mummy or his elf every time he needed a soak in the bath.
Draco's new robes were all black like a lot of his father's robes. Draco's mother always said that the color made his father's hair and skin look great, and Draco looked a lot like his father so he should look great, too, he thought. Draco stood suddenly and strode toward the full-length mirror he kept off in a corner. It was the third time he'd checked his appearance this morning. The robes showed off his hands and toes and head, that was it. As far as Draco could tell he still looked the same as he always did. His hair was a stringy flat mess and would be until his house elf spelled it for him. Even though he could fill his own bath, Draco was horrible with beauty charms. That had been a lesson learned the hard way. Draco's hair had been considerably longer before his last attempts at styling it.
"Do something with that mess for Salazar's sake," the mirror-image of himself smirked, and Draco scowled back at it. Draco relented before his mirror though-he always did-and went back to bouncing on his trunk.
Draco knew that he would have to remember to put the Hogwarts uniform on underneath his robes before he left, too, in order to avoid being naked in front if a cartful of people on the train, but a shirt and tie seemed very useless right now.
A few minutes later, a popping noise sounded through Draco's room and a small, silvery looking elf that came up to Draco's waist appeared in front of him. Draco jumped up and smiled down at the creature.
"Linky!" he shouted in excitement, but the little elf's eyes went round as saucers and she began tugging on her own long ears.
"Oh! What is the matter, master Draco? What is the matter?" the elf squeaked.
"Linky," sighed Draco, the moment completely lost when he looked in those huge eyeballs. "I'm just so excited to be off to Hogwarts. Do stop thinking I'm an angry beast!"
"Linky is being so sorry, master Draco!" Linky assured him as she frantically flattened out her pillowcase with shaky hands. She had three pillowcases, her favorite was the black one. She wore it now like it was a modest little dress, long creases from being recently ironed as proof. "Linky be thinking master still be sleeping is all!" she insisted.
Draco sighed again and rolled his eyes. He started his bouncing from heel to toe once more without noticing it.
"Linky is . . . Linky is . . ." the elf began to mutter but as she eyed him she cut herself off with an expression that made her look both flushed and sickly.
"What is it, Linky?" Draco asked and she burst into tears so suddenly that Draco had to spring back to avoid getting wet. He nearly tripped over his trunk but quickly righted himself. Linky hardly mattered but he certainly hoped he could manage a little more grace once he got to school.
"Linky is being such a sad elf!" she squealed, completely missing Draco's little mishap. If she'd seen it he'd surely be subject to fifty healing spells what with the state the house elf was in. Sure, Draco could order her to stop, but Linky wasn't above dragging Draco's mother into things. "Linky knows a good elf should be happy for master, but master Draco is leaving Linky and Linky has not been being without her master Draco for eleven long, long years! Linky will not be having anything without her master Draco being in the manor with Linky!"
"Master Draco will be able to write everyday," Draco reminded the house elf, not even realizing he'd started talking like the elves again. He'd always had a problem with listening to the elves more than he did his tutors. Draco couldn't help it, the house elves were much more interesting. It pissed his father off more than anything though so he had to try hard not to do it ever again. The problem was that he could never catch himself until his father's face grew tight, and his father wasn't around all the time. "Linky should be happy, she can be popping wherever she is wanting. Draco will be stuck in that big castle without even a broom for him to be escaping with!"
Linky abruptly stopped crying and narrowed her eyes at him. Draco realized his mistake. "Linky be thinking master Draco is being all happy for his leaving," said Linky flatly, her eyes going even thinner like long, deep everlasting trenches of chilling ice. The elf acted like his mother, Draco knew Mrs. Malfoy was proud of that. Draco did not think his father would be anything but angry if Draco expressed how much Linky could sometimes look just like Mr. Malfoy, too. "Why is master Draco worrying about escaping if it is being so great at - at this Hogwarts?"
"Draco is not worried really . . . but having a broom would be nice is all. They have a stupid rule against first years having brooms, Linky knows."
"Yes," the elf nodded seriously, "Linky be knowing all about the rules of Hogwarts from master Lucius. Master Draco should be getting to bring whatever he be wanting. The rule is being most, most stupid."
"Everything will be all right," Draco suddenly burst. "Master Draco will be having a wonderful time."
Linky smiled sadly at him, seeming more like Draco's mother again. Like she just knew things that he didn't. Draco was instantly a bit irritated and scowled at her. "Master Lucius would like to be seeing master Draco as soon as he is being ready," she said and Draco blinked, completely lost in the change of topic. "There will be having breakfast for master Draco then. Linky be having nothing to do already. No making breakfast! No packing anything!"
"Perfect." Draco smiled, and Linky froze before she could get going again. "Master Draco is wanting Linky to be checking over everything and making sure master is having what he be needing while he is meeting with father."
Draco hummed as he made his way down to the black drawing room where his mother and father always took their breakfast. Mrs. and Mr. Malfoy were good parents, Draco thought, however strange they sometimes seemed. They argued, but no more than adults in the novels he'd read. Draco was sure he had more clothes, books, and hobbies than any of the kids he'd met. He was also sure he knew more magic than most every first year starting this term. Besides maybe Harry Potter. Draco was still really special, though. He never ate too much candy and always remembered to clean his teeth. Draco could never figure out what his parents did right, but he never had an urge to lie about spelling his teeth clean like his friends Goyle and Crabbe did. He didn't necessarily think this made him better than the other kids, but it certainly made him different. That much had been clear for awhile now.
His mother kept telling him that it was nothing she and Mr. Malfoy did to Draco, and would then change the topic. His father had put a hand on Draco's hair and said that Draco was born with an enormous brain. Draco did have a big head. Or maybe his body was just small.
An eerie chill came over Draco as he passed through the white gallery. He tried not to look out the huge row of windows but failed. He ended up running all the way to the end of the white hallway. Draco knew it was silly to be scared in one's own home, but some things like the dark, creepy forest that made up his back yard never failed to get to him. His manor was huge. There was no way possible to ever hear anything that was going on anywhere else in the house besides the room you were in. The hallways were long and filled with scowling portraits. The rooms were wide and had tall ceilings. There were rows of gaping windows and huge, hot fireplaces in all the wrong places. Four of the bed chambers were haunted to the point of complete uselessness. There were seven ghosts and counting that haunted Malfoy Manor, and something was always popping out of the walls. The scariest was really the cursed instruments all around the manor that would randomly start playing at the worst times.
Draco's parents weren't scared. He sometimes got the feeling that they weren't scared of anything. His father would roll his eyes at any passing ghost and his mother would only curse under her breath and ignore them. His mother would stroll through the house with only the moon lighting her way. Once the lumos extinguished Draco would try about three times to get whatever he needed himself, each time run back to his room, and then call for Linky to help him. Though he could cast a pretty good lumos now himself, it was still better to stick with Linky. Just in case any vampires or werewolves or blood thirsty ghosts decided to pop out of the walls next.
It is ridiculous for someone to be afraid of nothing, Draco's father always said. Draco didn't understand at first but now he thought that he was starting to get it. There was always something scarier. Life just kept getting scarier.
Draco shook his head and put on a smile as he strode into the black drawing room.
The smile abruptly dropped off his face. His father sat across from his mother at a circular table. There were three small presents wrapped in silver with big bows of silk that were lined up on the surface between them. Three . . . and that was it.
"Father . . . mother," Draco said slowly. "What's going on?"
He knew that he shouldn't be disappointed about getting three presents, only three presents, but Draco felt the disappointment cooling his gut. What was he going to do if he didn't have anything new to occupy his time with at Hogwarts?
He was looking forward to having new things to keep him busy. So he wouldn't have to think about having to live with Goyle and Crabbe, and without Linky, and so far away from everything.
"Why Draco," his father greeted. "You're up early. Excited, are we?"
"A bit." Draco found his smile almost absently and instantly felt silly so he looked at his toes.
"No story this morning then?" his father inquired as he waved Draco into the seat between him and Draco's mother. A plate of breakfast and a glass of water appeared if front of Draco, but he was much too worried to eat now.
"No, father," admitted Draco as he sat and blinked at the food. "I couldn't concentrate."
Normally Draco wouldn't leave bed until he'd put a good dent in a storybook.
"Just as well; at Hogwarts there won't be any time in the mornings for lounging in bed."
Draco nodded, he'd heard that before. A million times. Draco's father had a thing for repeating himself. In his defense, Draco was never too good at listening.
"Professor Snape will be coming over today before we leave for the station. The four of us need to have a conversation."
Draco blinked and then nodded, despite how odd the request was.
"Now . . . I'm sure you're dying to know about the three gifts we've gotten you here on the table?"
"Well . . . yes." Draco looked down, not trusting his own face to remain pleasant.
"When I was your age, I had a lesson in quality over quantity. It is your turn now, Draco, to understand."
Draco swallowed some air and nodded.
"In a minute you will open these three gifts. You may keep all of them. One of them you must fit in your trunk. One must be carried with you on the train. The last one will not go to Hogwarts at all. Once you see the gifts you may chose which you want to bring with you and then you can figure out how."
Draco opened the first present, a square shaped one with a yellow silk ribbon. Inside the box was a smaller box with very intricate decorations. Draco's mother explained that the box was a house elf keeper. At Draco's blank look, his father elaborated that Draco would have to enlarge and shrink the item for use and transport.
Draco tried and failed to enlarge the box three times before he moved on. He couldn't concentrate yet. The second present he went for was flatter than the others and tied with a blue ribbon. Inside was a book that was spelled together like one of his mother's old photo albums, but it was filled with pages of Snape's scribbles, Mrs. Malfoy's letters, and Mr. Malfoy's neatly written advice that organized it all in a five part system. Each was labelled something different, like "Quidditch" and "Dealing With Gryffindors" and "How to Survive the Loony Man In Charge." Draco flipped through it for a long time while his parents watched in silence.
The last present to open was a tall, narrow, rectangular shaped box tied with a red bow which, to Draco's surprise, contained an invisibility cloak that seemed to keep filling the silver box forever. Once he managed to lay the many folds of the cloak out across the table, Draco stared at it for a good minute before exclaiming, "oh, Merlin."
"Indeed," his father chuckled. When Draco continued to blink at his new items, his father prodded, "you do remember that you cannot take all three with you to Hogwarts, yes?"
"Draco just be thinking about that, yes," Draco said, and didn't even stay to catch his father's scowl. In the next second all his presents were scooped up and Draco was running back to his room without stopping to think about the The Gorgons Woods or Old Wizard Malfoy when his ghost floated across the white hallway right in front of Draco's sprinting form.
Draco kicked his door but stopped it when it was an inch from shutting. He didn't have many rules at the manor, but when Draco was given one he listened to it. Draco was not to shut doors all the way ever again.
The three gifts were all placed on his trunk, and their boxes neatly stacked under Draco's bed. He liked to keep boxes for later use; his father hated the habit so Draco kept it as out of sight as possible. Draco was then on the floor before his trunk with his knees folded neatly under him as he peered at each item-a neatly folded shimmering piece of cloth, the spell-bound book, and the small wooden box-from eye level while Linky wrung her hands silently in a corner behind him.
"I have to be taking the box . . ." Draco was muttering to himself like his mother sometimes would. "I have to be making it work. Or . . . Linky!" he shouted so suddenly the elf jumped three feet in the air.
Draco sighed. All of his excitement was suddenly gone.
"Oh! Oh! Yes, master Draco, Linky is being here still," she assured.
Draco sighed again.
"I need Linky to be being over here now and be enlarging the box," explained Draco, and he flailed a little because he was still much too frazzled to do any good with magic, but he didn't have time to calm down. He was sure that his father had done this on purpose and would be summoning Draco for their meeting with Snape any minute. "Can Linky be doing that for master Draco?"
"Linky can be trying, master Draco," she assured and then easily enlarged the box with only a subtle wink so that it now stood a little taller than half of Draco's length.
They practiced three times shrinking and enlarging the keeper before Draco was satisfied that there would be no problems with it at Hogwarts. If Draco could even figure out how to get Linky inside Hogwarts, that was. Draco was pretty sure personal house elves were not permitted at his new school, but his father had never agreed with Albus Dumbledore, the Hogwarts Headmaster and Slayer of Dark Wizards, before so why would things change now? His father wouldn't buy him a keeper just to lock Linky in his room at Malfoy Manor until Draco came back for the holidays . . . surely.
Surely.
That left the book and the cloak then. He would stuff Linky in a bag and spell-o-tape her mouth shut if he had to.
"Master Draco be taking his nice, nice things and not Linky. Linky is being okay-"
"Linky is being shut up," hissed Draco, now that he knew he could somehow take her to school he wouldn't be leaving her behind for anything.
Draco dug through his trunk until he located his set of The Standard Book of Spells. He vaguely remembered seeing mimicking spells somewhere in the table of contents in Book Two. He was surprisingly right and found the chapter which contained all the information that the author had to offer on how to cheat, copy, and steal.
By the time he was through the text, Draco felt he was calm enough to try one of the spells. The book instructed Draco to focus on what he wanted to happen, and why he wanted it to happen as he waved his wand over the items and spoke the incantation.
Nothing happened.
"Great," sighed Draco, "wonderful."
Just then a house elf was knocking on his door, telling Draco that it was time for their meeting with Snape. Draco set Linky about trying to make a copy of the journal and then took off toward his mother's study. Snape was considered an honorary guest, Draco knew, so no drawing rooms or dining halls for his visits. Though Mrs. Malfoy's study was always out of the question for anyone else, ever (that Draco knew of at least).
The trip to the black study was much more pleasant than the black drawing room. Draco only passed one magical instrument and it happened to be a tuned piano that often played his favorite music. The thing was less cursed and more charmed, Draco suspected, though one could never be too sure with his parents. They acted like even the Oboe of Death was a normal item to have about the house (Draco had been to both Crabbe and Goyle's homes and knew for a fact that that evil oboe was anything but normal). Draco's mother resided admittedly closer in the west wing of their manor to where Draco stayed in the south, too.
A short walk later, Draco was announcing his presence with a light knock on the door as he took a deep breath of the icy cool aroma his mother always had brewing in her rooms. It was interesting, his mother's study. Draco did say his parents were strange, didn't he? But they were the good sort of strange, Draco thought, and his opinion was all that really mattered.
The walls of her study were shelves filled mostly with books, though Draco hadn't ever seen his mother reading any of them. Her decoration was really filling in the weird tart. Countless species of plants, only a select few which were still living, sat and covered and collected upon every available surface. They grew, moved, and died as she pleased, and yet she kept almost all of them rotten and brown and crisp. Each and every bud smelled the same though, whether red or white, alive or dead, they all smelled cold and clean. Draco always liked it in there.
It seemed that Draco had interrupted an argument, which was lovely. Draco did love a good debate to blow off some steam.
"My dearests," Draco paused and smirked at Snape, "Professor. Care to let me in on this . . . what ever it is?"
Draco strolled to the table they all sat around, and took a second to brush the hair out of his eyes since no one said anything.
Finally his mother spoke. "Sit, Draco dear. Please, join us."
"Thank you, mother." Draco did as he was told. "Are you all arguing over me?" asked Draco next and eyed all the adults for their reactions. Nobody gave a thing away and Draco sighed. It was worse than dealing with his mirror. "Fine. Don't tell me. I don't care either way."
"Draco-" his father started but was cut off with a low hissing sound his mother made.
"Draco," his mother said once she had his full attention, "yet again we have been discussing some alternate methods of learning for you . . . other than Hogwarts."
"But your mother is insane if she thinks-" Draco's father tried only to have Snape speak over him.
"How are you feeling about starting at Hogwarts this term, Draco?" his godfather asked.
Draco offered them a small smile before he spoke. "I'm feeling alright about it. Other than the outdated rules, slobbering Gryffindors, and the has-been Headmaster it sounds like great fun."
By the time Draco finished his answer, his father was pinching his nose, Snape looked on the verge of laughter, and Draco's mother only rolled her eyes.
"Well, I am sure I do not know where he learned to be so forward with his opinions," his father claimed with a drawn out sigh, and a light clasp of hands.
Snape actually snorted some tea out of his nose. "Really, Lucius?" he drawled as soon as he was recovered.
"Really," replied Draco's father, "he must get that from the Black side. Malfoys are never so open."
"Certainly, dear," Draco's mother assured. "Certainly."
"Look, the point is," Snape started, "the boy needs an education from a well-known school."
"Exactly," his father agreed with a firm nod.
"And Narcissa, you refuse to send him even as far as Beauxbatons."
"Correct," his mother drawled easily.
"Which leaves only Hogwarts," Snape continued. "I think now it will be up to Draco whether or not he learns to survive."
Suddenly all eyes were for Draco and the air felt much heavier than it did a second ago.
"Sure." Draco nodded.
None of the adults looked very reassured, but Draco wasn't hurt because he felt like he was lying anyway. He blinked.
"You do know what is truly not okay to say, don't you, Draco?" Snape asked him slowly.
"Actually . . ." Draco was starting to see what this was. It wasn't Draco himself that had a problem. The three around him were Slytherins setting out to ensure their own well-being. Draco smirked. "I was planning on telling the story about how I found out who the Dark Lord was and seeing how many people wanted to be my friend afterward," he told them.
His mother was only rolling her eyes again, but Snape and his father looked decidedly paler. Their worried faces filled Draco inside with a warmth he hadn't felt since Linky popped in his room this morning and ruined his excitement with her eyeballs. He felt like he could suddenly breathe again when seconds ago he'd been fighting against a smoky haze that all these terrible things that had happened to him today-like hearing his father's disappointment just moments before-was leaving around him.
After that, tea with Snape went rather smooth and quick. They talked of Draco's schedule and meal times and the Slytherin dorms. Snape presented Draco with new potions ingredients for his kit. Some Draco recognized vaguely from looking through a few years of the potions text. Others he wasn't familiar with at all, but thanked Snape for them all the same. If Snape was giving it to him, Draco was going to bet it would be useful at some point.
Soon Draco was being dismissed with a reminder that it was nearing time to head to the station. When Draco arrived back at his room, he found that Linky hadn't had any luck mimicking the journal either. Perhaps his father had warded it against elf magic, but in any case Draco couldn't afford to leave the journal at home so he kept trying, but when an elf knocked on his door saying it was time to leave Draco still didn't have a copy of it.
Draco had to leave the cloak. He really had to.
Draco kicked his trunk and yelled at Linky to get in his bag and not talk again until he said so. He opened his small coin purse wide and she stuck her toes in and disappeared with a swirl of silver. He could picture her sitting on top of the small fortune of galleons his father had most likely stocked the thing with. Draco made sure Linky remembered to put her keeper in his trunk, tucked his journal under his arm, and left the invisibility cloak folded on his bed as he strode off toward the pale entryway.