"The insolence! Does that boy not know who I am? Oh, just wait until father hears of this...!"
The rest of the Slytherin table rolled their eyes as Draco Malfoy stormed off with his usual entourage of Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle struggling to catch up.
"Well, that was totally out of character," commented Theodore Nott sarcastically.
"Yeah, he normally never acts like that," Tracey Davis agreed.
Meanwhile, Blaise Zabini comforted the upset first-year who had drawn Malfoy's ire by taking his usual spot at the table.
"Don't worry, Malfoy's dad has better things to do than avenging him every time he feels offended by someone."
"Why don't you cheer the poor kid up with a little fairy tale?" suggested Daphne Greengrass with a smirk.
The other fifth-years sniggered knowingly and Blaise nodded gravely.
"An excellent suggestion, Miss Greengrass," he replied in a passable Dumbledore impression, "Gather round, my young friends, and listen! This is the story of Draco and the Seven Weasleys."
Amidst more sniggering and laughter from the upper years, he began his story...
Once upon a time, in a ceremonial county far away, there lived a prince. The prince was pampered and spoiled by his doting father, who would do anything for his son if asked. He had his own professional racing broom, a Quidditch pitch with golden hoops, an undefeatable chess set carved from the horn of a horned serpent, and a genuine Auror uniform with a red cape.
But not all was well for the little prince, for he had an evil stepmother.
"I thought she was his real mum?" Theodore interjected.
"Never let the truth stand in the way of a good story. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, little Draco had an evil stepmother. Narcissa, the Black Witch, detested the pampered prince.."
Despite her inate evilness, she was very beautiful. She had a magic mirror that she would consult every morning by stepping in front of it and asking 'Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?'. And every morning, the mirror would respond: 'Why, you of course, milady! In the whole of the magical community of the ceremonial county of Wiltshire there is none prettier than you.' She never heard that last part - which the mirror whispered - but she was very happy hearing the first part.
One morning though, the prince took extra care of his appearance. He squeezed a whole tub of gel into his hair, popped the pimple on his cheek, and even brushed his teeth.
When his evil stepmother addressed her mirror that morning she did not like its response one bit. 'The fairest of them all? Milady, that would be the pampered prince. You won't find a prettier face in the magical community of the ceremonial county of Wiltshire.'
Her response was one of unbridled fury.
"What?! That little brat?!" she shrieked.
She stormed off, already formulating sinister plans to address the situation.
Her husband was in the middle of an elaborate scheme himself, trying to get the little prince accepted at the best magical school in the country even though the boy could neither read nor write at the age of ten. His thoughts were interrupted by a screeching sound. 'I really must fix the front door,' he pondered. Only belatedly did he realise that it was his wife screaming.
"Lucius! Lucius, I demand that you get rid of that spoiled brat this instance!"
"And how do you propose I do that, my love?" Lucius drawled in response.
"I don't care, just make it happen or I'll ask McNair the hunter to do it."
"Fine," Lucius acquiesced resignedly. He had not had any luck with his schemes for getting Draco into Hogwarts anyway, so perhaps a different approach would be needed.
Later that morning, Lucius went to see the pampered prince in his chambers. Draco was playing with his dragon-and-peasants set, made from solid gold.
"Draco," he began, "pack a bag and meet me at the front door. We are going for a hiking trip."
"But father," the prince whined, "The Great Humberto is due to perform in a moment."
"No arguing, Draco. Five minutes."
Half an hour later, the little prince appeared at the front door with a stranger in tow who was bent under the weight of an enormous backpack.
"Who is that, Draco?"
"That's The Great Humberto. I'm taking him along. He will carry my bag."
Lucius began to wonder whether his wife might have a point after all.
It took another twenty minutes of negotiating, threatening, and begging before Lucius and Draco were ready to set off with a much lighter bag resting on Lucius' shoulders. "After all you don't have a bag of your own to carry," as Draco had guilelessly pointed out.
As the massive gilded gates of the manor estate faded into the distance behind them, Draco spoke again.
"Father? Do you remember the golden quaffle you got me for brushing my teeth last summer?"
Lucius had been deep in thought. "Hm? Oh, yes, what about it?"
"I dropped it in the well. A magic frog offered to fetch it for me but it wanted a kiss in return so I Avada Kedavra'ed it."
"Of course you did," Lucius sighed. That had been part of one of his more desperate plots to secure Draco's future.
"Father?"
"Hm?"
"Will you get me another golden quaffle? I brushed my teeth again this morning."
Lucius shook his head. "Draco, there is something I have to talk to you about."
"Dobby is lying! I never did that to him!"
"What did you...?! Never mind, I don't want to know. No, Draco, this is about your stepmother."
"She's lying! It was Dobby! He made me do it!"
"Draco! There is no easy way to say this, but for reasons I am not privy to, she wants to see you dead."
"Dead? As in, not alive anymore?"
"Yes Draco, as in not alive anymore."
"But, but... Father, you're not going to let her kill me, right?"
"That's where it gets complicated. I do not intent to, no. But we will need to make it seem as if you had died."
"But why? Can't you just tell her no?"
"Draco, she is the Black Witch. And you know as well as I do that centuries of inbreeding have left us Malfoys barely above the level of a squib. Take my walking cane, for example. Everyone assumes that it is hiding my wand, when in fact it is just a stick with which I can defend myself."
"Ooh, I had heard about that rumour!" exclaimed Tracey Davis.
"What rumour?" asked Theodore Nott.
"Apparently, the reason the Malfoys all look alike and are all only sons is that they propagate by cloning. This was all started by the super powerful Dark Lord Malfoy in the 16th century as a way to secure immortality. But every time he clones himself, the magic is split evenly between father clone and son clone. So twelve generations later they are basically squibs."
"Tracey, Draco's dad was the youngest of three, with two older sisters. And his grandfather had black hair. Any more rumours, or can I continue with my story?"
"Please continue."
"Thank you."
Desperate for an out, Draco turned to his father.
"What are we going to do, father?"
"Don't worry, Draco, I have a plan. We have almost reached our destination. Beyond this hill, there lives a family of redheads. They have so many children that you can just mingle in and nobody will notice."
"But won't the Black Witch demand proof?"
"She will, which is why I need you to give me your collection of signed Chudley Cannons autograph cards."
"WHAT?! But father, can't you take something else? You could cut off one of my fingers!"
"I am sorry, Draco. But she knows that you would never willingly give up your collection of autographs. Whereas we had to regrow your fingers twice last year..."
"I didn't know that there was a manticore in that crate..."
"That only explains the first time. It doesn't explain why you decided to stick your fingers in again."
"I forgot."
"How can... Never mind, my point still stands. Your autographs please."
It took Draco some time, but eventually he concluded resignedly that he valued his life more than his Chudley Cannons autographs. It was close though.
"Thank you, Draco. Now this is where we part ways. Good luck, son."
And with these words, Lucius dropped the backpack next to Draco and apparated away. Draco couldn't help being impressed at his father's casual display of magical prowess. His father had barely splinched himself, only leaving a couple of fingers and the tip of his nose behind.
With a shrug, he picked up the backpack and set off across the hill. Before long, he saw a cosy cottage appear in the distance. As he approached it, he could hear singing. And soon he witnessed a wondrous sight. He was nearly at the cottage when a group of redheads passed him, walking in single file, swinging buckets and singing at the top of their voices.
"Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it's home from work we go!"
Draco decided it was now or never. Throwing caution to the winds, he rushed towards them and squeezed himself between the last two of the redheads, one of whom was a little taller than him, and the other of whom was a little shorter. The redheads paused in confusion for a moment, but when Draco boldly started singing 'Heigh-ho', they simply shrugged and carried on.
As they arrived at the cottage, Draco saw that another, older redhead was waiting for them.
"Supper time, Weasleys!" she called. "Are you all here?"
She began calling their names and each Weasley cheerfully confirmed that they were present.
"Billy, Charly, Percy, Freddy, Georgy, Ronny, Ginn - hang on, who are you?" she asked when she reached Draco.
"Erm... I'm... Draky...?" he offered nervously.
"Of course you are, my dear. Silly of me to forget."
And with that, she continued on to 'Ginny', who apparently was the shortest of the Weasleys.
Soon Draky, sorry, Draco, fell into his new routine with the seven Weasleys. They would get up in the morning, eat some porridge, then grab their buckets and degnome the garden all day before returning home for dinner all grubby and covered in dirt and soil.
It was a simple life, but Draco enjoyed it. Well, he was happy that Ronny was also a Chudley Canons fan. And he skived off a lot of the chores claiming to be ill. He mostly got away with it as the Weasleys assumed his pale blonde hair was a sign of a grave disease.
Meanwhile, Lucius had returned to his wife and told her how poor Draco had been eaten by vicious bunnies in the woods.
"As you can see I barely made it out alive myself," he claimed, showing his bloodied nose and missing fingers as proof.
"You are pathetic, Lucius," the Black Witch responded mercilessly.
"Yes dear," he agreed meekly.
"Do you have any further proof that the brat is no more? Or were you too busy running away fwom the tewwible bunnies?"
"It was a gorey mess, all that was left was his set of Chudley Cannons autographs," he offered, showing her the article in question.
Narcissa drew a sharp breath. "His autographs! He would never have parted with those whilst still alive. Thank you, dear husband, you did well."
A relieved Lucius shuffled off to his office to get a drink and have Dobby fix his injuries. All in all, he concluded, it could have gone worse. The Weasleys were on a scholarship programme for Hogwarts, which hopefully meant that Draco would also get to go, no questions asked.
Leaning back in his armchair, he reflected on another plot that he had brought to its successful conclusion earlier that day.
"I would like to claim an income tax exemption for myself."
"On what basis, Mr Malfoy?"
"On the basis of the recently passed Income and Taxation bill, of course."
"But Sir, that bill leaves very little room for exemptions of any kind. You yourself have praised it for the thoroughness with which it addressed all existing loopholes. In fact, the only remaining exemption that has not been revoked stems from a 1344 bill. And that only includes..."
"High-value water containers, including but not limited to golden cauldrons, imported teapots, and crystal carafes."
"Correct. So unless you claim to be a golden cauldron, there is very little I can do for you, Mr Malfoy."
"On the contrary. You will be aware of course that my family has long prided itself on its continental roots. Just the other week, Minister Fudge referred to me as one of Magical Britain's finest imports."
"I still fail to see how that makes you a teapot."
"Do you? I can assure you that I am perfectly capable of dispensing warm water. Would you care for a demonstration?"
"Thank you, that won't be necessary..."
Yes, Lucius thought. He might not be the most magically powerful, but nobody could beat him when it came to shrewd plots and plans.
Sadly, our story does not end there. For a while, all was well. But one day, Draco and the seven Weasleys went for a camping trip to Wiltshire. This would not have been an issue if Freddy and Georgy had not gotten up early. Bored and with little else to do, they proceeded to doll up their latest sibling who was fast asleep and unaware that he was quickly becoming 'the fairest of them all' again.
Unfortunately, someone else did notice. And the Black Witch was not happy at all to learn that Draco had somehow escaped the attack of the bunnies alive. Furious, she grabbed her hooded travel cloak and set off to finish the job her husband had failed at.
After several days of fruitless search, she came to the cottage where the Weasleys lived. As was often the case, Draky had excused himself from the degnoming because of some imaginary ailment, and so it was him who opened the door. The Black Witch could hardly believe her luck. Confident that the little brat would not be able to recognise her in her clever disguise - she had pulled the hood of her cloak up - she put on a saccharine smile.
"Are you in pain?" asked Draco with genuine concern in his voice.
"No, I'm smiling kindly, you little -"
She broke off her snarled response and forced another smile onto her face to conclude with as much sincerety as she could muster "- charming boy."
"Ah, apologies, old crone. I meant no offence. How can I help you?"
At the words 'old crone', the Black Witch had to fight hard not to Crucio the brat into insanity. She barely managed. Slowly and deliberately letting go of her wand underneath her cloak, she instead stretched out her other hand, offering a delicious looking shiny red apple.
"I would like to gift you this tasty apple."
"My dad says I should not take food from strangers."
"Ah well, I will give it to one of your siblings then."
"No, that's ok. I'll take it."
Draco had quickly learned that with seven siblings, one had to be fast and ruthless when it came to food. He had not eaten much during his first few days with the Weasleys.
As Draco snatched the apple from her hand and bit into it, Narcissa realised that, in her rush to seek out the brat, she had forgotten to poison it.
'Fine', she thought to herself, 'the old-fashioned way it is - time to play red light, green light.'
Reaching for her wand once more, she shot off a stunner and was rewarded with a dull thud. As she prepared to finish the deed with an Avada Kedavra, she noticed that Draco's face had taken on an unhealthy purple colour. In his attempt to stuff the entire apple down his throat before any of the Weasley children might show up, Draco had choked on a big piece of it. She shrugged. That would do. And just in time, as she heard someone approaching from behind. With a last glance at Draco, she apparated away.
"Now this is the point where our story reaches its happy conclusion."
Tracey and Daphne cheered.
"No, you heartless brutes, we haven't reached the end just yet."
The person approaching the cottage was none other than Princess Pansy, who was on a day out, taking a break from her harsh life as the spoilt and pampered only daughter of one of the richest families in the country.
When Princess Pansy saw the stunned and suffocating Draco lying on the floor, she did what every self-respecting budding sociopath would do. She unstunned him to watch him suffer and gave him a good kick in the back to make him suffer more.
Now, fortunately for Draco, that kick in the back was just enough to dislodge the piece of apple from his throat. Gasping for breath, he looked up at his saviour.
Princess Pansy's disappointment was quickly overcome when the peasant she had kicked spoke to her in the bored drawl of spoiled, pampered princes and princesses everywhere.
They quickly bonded over their shared disdain for those of lesser class and money. And before long, they were known all across the country as a double act of tediousness.
"And this, my friends, is the end of the story. Draky got into Slytherin thanks to the Weasley scholarship and has continued to be a pain in the butt ever since. Tomorrow, I will tell you how Tweedledum and Tweedledee became Draco's best friends."