"Sorted Too Young"
Dumbledore tells Snape, "Sometimes, Snape, I think we sort them too young."
CHAPTER 11 – REPLIES
Minerva received the owl very early in the morning. She noted the white gold band on the eagle owl's ankle with the small charm that identified the bird as belonging to the Malfoy family, namely Draco. While she had kept abreast of Draco's condition and state of mind through the Weasleys, this letter came as a surprise. Draco had become such a hermit that she doubted he would ever so much as communicate with anyone in the outside world outside of the absolutely necessary for the maintenance of his finances and estate. She remembered too well the traumas endured by similar people from the first war. So many behaved the same after this second war. Hogwarts would be a very quiet and almost empty school come September.
So many were still afraid. If not afraid of the Dark Lord, with the new face of Lucius Malfoy, then afraid of the reactions and counter reaction of their peers depending on what side of the war they sat upon whether by choice or not. And Draco, was one with perhaps the most at stake. He was among those so badly injured that his health and survival was a constant concern.
Minerva broke the personal seal Draco had used, just momentarily noting the small change he had made to include his initials. She read the letter and nearly dropped it. "Oh my!" His tone in his writing was not unlike his tone in his essays. He often came across both brilliant and humble in his assignments that no one but his teacher's read, filling his conclusions with questions he hoped would be raised for discussion in future classes. She noted the self-depreciation, warranted, but still worrisome. She also noticed his subtle suggestion. "Yes, exams would definitely be helpful to re-evaluate all the students as they return for a repeat of the year. It would help to adjust the year's curriculum this way.
"So, Mr. Malfoy wishing to return." The idea was inspiring. If he could come back, if he could find the courage to face not just the school and teachers after all he had done and been through, but face the students as well, then so might others. Her old friend, Albus, might be right on this. Perhaps Hogwarts did sort students too young. This kind of courage was very worthy of any Gryffindor, not a Slytherin. She thought that perhaps students should be sorted twice. They grow and sometimes change. Maybe they could benefit from a second sorting. She touched the rim of the sorting hat in consideration, then sat down to reply to Draco Malfoy's very courteous letter.
She wondered if he would be as shy now with everyone as he was in private meetings with teachers when he was no longer under the influence of his father. Narcissa was a shy and sweet witch, Draco had much of her in him.
Dearest Mr. Malfoy, Draco,
It is with great honour that I take up this post as headmistress after Albus Dumbledore. I too feel the importance of re-opening the school as soon as possible to not lose any educational momentum and to ensure the readiness of young witches and wizards into this new and uncertain world. They are the future after all, and that includes you.
I would welcome you indeed to the school. Placement examinations will take place during the first week of school. I expect that without the pressures you were under during your sixth and seventh years here, you will surely prove to be a shining example to other this year. From your earlier grades and essays, I can assume you will pursue deeper studies in potions and charms and transfiguration. If you have any specific career related interests, please send me a note so that I can organize your studies and provide you with a formal letter of acceptance.
Welcome back to us, Draco Malfoy.
Sincerely,
Headmistress Minerva MacGonegall
Mr. Darius Ashgrove was just unlocking his office door to find an all too familiar eagle owl on his office windowsill looking quite annoyed for having to wait. Ashgrove's blood turned to ice and the coffee in his stomach solidified to stone. A Malfoy had finally communicated with him. He worried which one. He dreaded that it might be any of them. He had hoped that maybe they had all miraculously died.
This was the problem with blood bound debts and blood signed contracts. His father had sealed the family fate to serve retainer to the Malfoys till one family or the other died out. Lucius was a difficult and dangerous man to work for. An error had cost Ashgrove his eldest son who was imprisoned in Malfoy Manor for Lucius' own uses. Ashgrove shuddered remembering the mutilated body that had been returned to him several months later. He had a daughter now, of eleven, ready for school and he struggled to figure out how to educate her alone. His work was overwhelming and complicated. Her mother was beyond ill under the hospital care. He was in the process of weighing accepting her passing and letting her go or struggling on to try to keep her alive.
Now a Malfoy has sent word to him, likely of service. His shaking hand retrieved the letter from the regal owl. The seal was not that of Lucius. He had never seen this seal, yet it held much of the same familiar elements. The eagle owl scratched and preened. It would not leave till he replied. Damn. Ashgrove broke the seal and read the letter.
Interesting and yet still dangerous. Draco Malfoy wanted to put the family business into order. Leave my opinions and attitudes behind? Ashgrove bristled. Pompous prat! He swallowed back his curses as if the young Malfoy might hear his thoughts from here. The end of that sentence was quite clear. Termination meant total execution of his family. He glanced at his daughter's picture and sank into his desk chair. So he would serve a new Malfoy then.
He took out paper and quill. This was both intensely nerve wracking and potentially lucrative. Was the son really as bad as the father? The warning lay in writ, but Ashgrove in the depths of himself was as greedy as his fore fathers. He penned a carefully worded reply.
Greetings Master Malfoy,
Please accept my condolences for your losses. I will of course meet with you on Tuesday July 20th at 10h00 with all papers in order and ready for your thorough perusal. I will come with both the Malfoy and Black deeds, wills and Family Laws. Although, please understand that I only have in my possession the Laws dating to when my family signed contract with your own. The older Family Laws are blood sealed within the two estates and are not available to me. I can explain, of course, how to find and access them as I assume your parents have not.
In Service,
Mr. Darius Ashgrove
Dr. Gregor Shmeiss offered the hungry child before him some food. The wary child snatched it and ran back into a corner growling and sniffling. He had been watching the child without interfering too much to see how the child reacted to the new environment. Poorly, though not as if he was a senseless wild creature, more like a scared and upset one stolen from a loving home. He was not quite ready to say what this child was, not after reviewing the earlier studies. Many referred to the child as an it, not a he. Many discussed the anamorphic abilities, yet the werewolf parenthood. The details of insanity were graphically described of the child's behaviour over full moons with melancholic behaviour over dark moons.
The German doctor sighed with annoyance at the rudimentary studies, annoyed with their lack of professionalism. They really were not very thorough and clearly had no background in psychology. He had extensive background in both the wizarding and muggle world and had worked in both. The opportunity to study a child of a werewolf was worth financial destitution. He remained sitting very still on his stool in the small room where some blankets, a child's bed, a few age appropriate toys, and some now very shredded books scattered the surroundings. He nibbled quietly from a plate and proffered bits to the child now and then trying to build a slow trust. The child was not wild, but nor was he tame. And in a few days, it would be the full moon and the child would likely be out of control. According to the studies, he was not contagious. This too was incredibly fascinating.
A tap at the door alerted him to a potential intruder. It was a nurse from the Elizabeth Institute where he had his tiny grant to study this child. "Dr. Shmeiss, there is an owl in your office with a letter."
He adjusted the little round glasses on his nose and set the plate on the floor beside the stool. Normally he would have removed the small stool, but chose to leave it. He stepped out and slid open the observatory window on the door. He would watch the child after he read the letter.
In his office the large eagle owl walked gracefully across the desk and helped itself to a treat. It protected the letter from anyone who might try to touch it. The peck marks on the nurse's hand was proof of the bird's fierce loyalty. Dr. Shmeiss regarded the intelligent bird. "Guten Tag, noble owl. I am Dr. Shmeiss. May I have the letter?" The owl lifted it with his beak and hopped closer so the doctor may retrieve it. Always offer respect, even if the creature is not so intelligent. They can read your mannerisms and will judge you accordingly.
He looked at the seal not recognizing it as anything other than one from a pure blood wealthy family. He did not know the English blood lines, but wondered what one might want with him. He read through the letter twice and then thought deeply trying to properly place the person who sent it. Oh yes, the well-dressed noble man at the Weasley estate where he had fetched the child. A tall, thin, injured blond with pointed features and sharp wary ice blue eyes. A wounded soul if ever he saw one. But that man was not his patient and seemed too proud to accept the kind of help Dr. Shmeiss could offer, for now. The young man, however made an offer he could not refuse. Money. Money to study this interesting child. It was likely a better grant than the tiny one he was swiftly exhausting. And, it looked like it could be long term. It came with strings, but not any he felt would interfere with the study.
This wealthy heir of Malfoy made an offer and expected him to comply. He was being asked to prove himself. Maybe the young man was ignorant of who he was. He could not fault him. Many were here in England. He did think it very peculiar that this Draco Malfoy wanted the child over the full moon period. Brave man. Very well. He penned a short reply.
Mr. Malfoy,
I have barely had time to establish any relationship with my subject of study. Teddy Lupin is a distrusting child. I suspect it is due to the frequent and irregular care given him by previous institution with lesser quality and lesser qualification to handle this unique case. I will of course provide you with my credentials and meet with you at the desired time with the child in hand. Be aware, you are asking to mind him over the full moon. I expect you know what you are doing. We can discuss the details of your offer when I arrive. I hope to prove a better and more stable influence in assisting to reintegrate this child into normal society.
Dr. Gregor Shmeiss
Psychologist / Mind-healer
The doctor released to eagle out from his office with his reply and returned to the door of the child's room. He peaked in with a smile. There, sitting upon the stool in almost perfect mimicry, was Teddy nibbling on the remains of the lunch with his fingers. His face and hands totally messy as only a four year old could be when they chose to eat with their fingers. He observed that the child still sniffled and whimpered as he ate though. Such recent loss. Trauma such as these with the unusual shapeshifting must be very hard indeed on the child.
A young man, lean with thin brown hair, paced his ministry office. He ran his fingers through his hair as he thought through his next decisions. At the age of twenty-three, Donald Prescott never expected he would be sitting as head of anything, let alone this pile of painful chaos. He was perhaps the best equipped to handle it, but it did not mean it was easy. There were just so many cases of broken homes and families and orphaned children, including the ones whose parents were now being locked up in Azkaban. It created a sensitive and delicate situations.
At every turn, the Daily Prophet seemed to be present. They kept pace with him everywhere. He didn't particularly like the media attention, but sometimes it proved helpful in finding lost families, or digging up some sympathy to provide support for those in need. It also sometimes painted a great big target upon him, or his clients. There just was not enough money, not enough homes, too many children. He threw his arms in the air, declaring that he gives up. Not that he really gave up, just gave up for the moment. He needed a coffee.
A peck at his window made him jump. He exclaimed in frustration and debated yelling at the messenger. He slammed open the window. The eagle owl fluttered and beat its wings indignantly for balance, then settled with a talon grip on the sill. One grouchy insignificant human was not about to upset this owl. It blinked at him a moment and thrust its letter into his hands. He looked down at the seal on the letter. His eyes widened, then glanced at the band on the bird's ankle and back at the letter.
"Oh crap."
Just what he needed, more pure blood drama and frustrations. He wondered why the Malfoys were sending him a death threat now and why they hadn't done so sooner. At least it was not a howler. He had three of those today already. This letter was unusually long. He read it through. Then he read it through again as he walked right into his closed door. "Dammit!" he opened the door and walked and read till he retrieved his coffee and returned to his office, eyes still glued in shock and disbelief to the letter in his hand. The eagle owl groomed patiently on the sill.
"I'll… I'll be bloody damned. An apology, out of a Malfoy." Clearly this young Draco had written off the dangerous Death eater father of his. Prescott recalled the discussions with Arthur Weasley about Draco's situation. He was especially grateful for Arthur's volunteering to take on that problem. The father cursed the son to a life of torture and death. It was pure miracle the young man survived at all. He sat at his desk with letter and coffee and read again. "Ah yes. Teddy Lupin. That is another nightmarish case. No one wants the child of a werewolf, even if he is not contagious."
He shook his head and reread. Donation? Malfoy was making a donation to his department. This was shocking and thrilling at the same time! The department desperately needed funding. He had to nod understanding to Draco's naked acceptance of his own condition and state of affairs, yet respect the choices the young man was trying to make. Go back to school, that was incredibly courageous, for a Malfoy. Adopt Teddy Lupin, another very courageous move. He wondered if there were political statements there. But then, considering what Draco had gone through, maybe there was simply buried compassion now permitted to be revealed. Prescott would have considered Draco one of the kids who fell through the cracks. Had someone noticed or reported the abuses done by father to son much earlier, would things have been different? Didn't Prescott ask himself this question a hundred times a day?
Finally he registered through to the bottom. Financial sponsorship for education for ten kids a year. That too was a significant help. It also gave him a very manipulative idea. If the pure bloods all did such a thing as Malfoy was doing, he would have enough to stabilize almost every case of ruined childhood. He tucked that idea in his back pocket. He accioed a notepad and jotted down a list. Donation to the Agency. Case file for Teddy Lupin. Adoption forms and procedure handbook. Fostering arrangement forms. Top ten most in need under-aged witches and wizards. "So, Malfoy, you might adopt, eh? I am shocked by your blatent honesty to your situation. And since you do not want to see this child fall through the cracks any more than I do, I will bring what I can as options."
He sipped his cold coffee and sputtered a curse. A flick of a wand and he charmed his coffee hot again.
Mr. Draco Malfoy,
You do me honour with your letter and your offer. I appreciate the donation and assure you it will be put to very good use. For what it is worth, I accept the apology you do not think you have the right to give. It takes a brave man to admit his failings to himself. It takes a braver one to admit them to someone else. Let's work together to try to avoid anyone else from falling through the cracks as you have. Change starts with ourselves. Change the one and it slowly begins to cascade to change the many. We do not live in isolation.
I appreciate your effort to do all you can for Teddy Lupin. And, I appreciate your honesty about your intentions and goals. I will bring his case file with me and some option you might want to consider. He is a special case, as you must know, with the werewolf blood and the challenges he presents with that difficulty in his blood. I caution you with your choices, but at the same time, I encourage you.
Tuesday is not that far off, I won't have an adequately sorted list of those in need for your offer of sponsorship, but I think I could accommodate that by the end of the month. I will contact Headmistress Minerva with your intent and work out a list with her.
See you at the Weasleys' on Tuesday,
Mr. Donald Prescott
He sealed the letter with his new ministry wax seal and handed it to the eagle owl. His day just took a shining turn for the better!
At the Daily Prophet, an under-writer ran through the cubicles to the head editor waving a note in his hands. He skidded to a halt at the scathing look from the editor and rocked excitedly on the balls of his feet. "This had better be good." He disliked the youth running through the offices like a child, even though he practically was one.
"Oh it is sir… it is about Draco Malfoy!"
That caught his attention. "Come inside and close the door." The second the door closed, the editor cast a silencing charm on the room to block eavesdroppers. The youth read the anonymous note aloud to the editor, his excitement barely contained as he read. This was the biggest news of the week. And indeed, as the anonymous tipper said, it would be a very delicate matter. The editor tapped a finger on his bearded chin trying to think of the most sensitive and discrete human interest writer he had.
"Ask Stephen Cornfoot to come in here."
Stephen was perfect. He was shy, sensitive, quiet, observant, intelligent and Draco's peer. Stephen was also his nephew and he thought to himself that if, just by chance IF this rumour was true that Draco Malfoy was returning to Hogwarts, maybe it would inspire his nephew to reconsider and also return, thus graduating with his other Ravenclaw classmates if they too returned.
That evening at dinner in the Parkinson household. Pansy's mother read the letter from Draco. It was with mixed feelings that she broke the news to Pansy. Her daughter seemed disappointed, yet relieved. Pansy secretly was relieved that Draco did not act the usual prat and declare her sexual indiscretion as his reason for breaking things. Her mother was relieved that her daughter would no longer be even remotely attached to the name of Malfoy now. That name carried much weight and was also a great target. After all, Lucius did try to make a second attempt on the boy's life while Draco was in hospital. She did not want her daughter a target of Lucius Malfoy and grudgingly and silently thanked Draco for that consideration.
As wealthy as the Parkinsons had been, though, now they were on the brink of destitution due to Pansy's father's involvement with the Death eaters and his subsequent imprisonment. Pansy's mother thought about Draco's mentioning that he was returning to Hogwarts.
"Pansy, I am sending you back to school. You will redo your seventh year. And no, you have no leeway to argue with me. I know what you have done in the darkened corners of those halls. I will let the new Head of Slytherin know to keep a closer eye on you. I expect you to finish well with good grades. We need to find you a husband with fine repute and good money."
Pansy winced in humiliation. How did mothers find out these things?
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