As we sat down to dinner, I could feel the tension hanging in the air like a thick fog. The atmosphere was strained, with neither my mother, Narcissa, nor my father, Lucius, uttering a word. We all sat in silence, eating our food in an uncomfortable quiet, a stark contrast to our usual discussions about how the year had gone and my academic achievements - which, I was proud to say, had landed me in the top five of my class. Unfortunately, the Mudblood Granger had still taken the top rank. I consoled myself with the fact that I at least had a social life.
Still, if I had to take a guess at the reason for the awkward silence, it would be that my mother was displeased with my father for unleashing Slytherin's monster into the school while I was a student there. He seemed to believe that the basilisk wouldn't harm a Pureblood, but since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named — Voldemort — was pulling the strings, I knew it was a mistake. Even thinking his name sent a shiver down my spine. As Draco, I had been thoroughly indoctrinated to fear and respect the Dark Lord, but that fear often took precedence over respect.
I had been told countless stories of the Dark Lord and his ruthless cruelty. A simple flick of his wand was all it would take to annihilate a group of Aurors. The tortures the Dark Lord could inflict, as well as the so-called 'Golden' age of the wizarding world, that he would bring. With the memories of my muggle aspect in my mind, I could clearly see that Voldemort must have been a charismatic and persuasive man to have so many loyal followers.
All of the stories were, of course, told without Mother knowing, as she would not like her baby boy knowing all that. Still, all of it was vague enough not to have bothered me overtly much before.
I finished my meal in a hurry, which was unusual, as Mother and Father would normally have scolded me for eating so quickly. However, the palpable tension between them meant neither of them spoke up as I hastily retreated to my room, happy to get away from the oppressive atmosphere.
Still, what should I do now? Occlumency was certainly a skill that I had to master, and quickly. I shuddered at the thought of Voldemort discovering all I knew. There was a potentially simple solution to all of my issues: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Could I really trust him? The pure-blood part of me, the part that was indoctrinated to follow the Dark Lord, wanted to scoff at the thought that the eccentric old codger could do anything correctly. Meanwhile, the Muggle part of me was filled with skepticism. Dumbledore wasn't a particularly well-regarded figure in my previous life, after all. All of the plans he had for Potter, the 'Chosen One' I let out a snort of derision at the thought of Potter being the 'chosen one', still it didn't exactly paint him in a flattering light.
If I couldn't find a way to safely and reliably destroy the Horcruxes by the start of my 5th Year, I would have no choice but to swallow my pride and seek out Dumbledore's help. Though, a part of me still didn't want to resort to that, even if it became necessary. And it surprisingly wasn't the Draco-part, the pure-blood fanatic, that was hesitant. The Muggle aspect of me, which craved recognition and admiration, wanted the glory that Potter had, to have my name whispered in awe and reverence. I forced a bitter laugh and shook my head; those were the thoughts of a Dark Lord... or the Minister of Magic.
Draco Malfoy, Minister of Magic, The Vanquisher of the Dark Lord— that title simply sounded too appealing not to make it a reality.
Contrary to what some people in my previous life may have thought, we didn't have a large library with every available book on the market bought, so I would have to make a visit to the bookshop in Diagon Alley tomorrow. As a rather diligent student, I, Draco, had never heard of Occlumency or Legilimency, and it rankled me to admit that I needed to learn more. I let out a disgusted sigh as I realized I might have to meet with that oily Borgin; the man was simply creepy.
The next day, after waking up and completing my morning routine, I was barely able to resist the urge to flinch as one of the many house-elves appeared in front of me. Pipsy, if I recall correctly.
"What is it, Lipsy?" I questioned, attempting to look at the creature as if it was nothing more than insignificant dirt staining my boots, which was how Draco usually treated them. Though, if I could get myself a personal elf, that would be rather convenient and useful. The ability to travel to and from anywhere without care for any magical protections could prove to be a significant advantage.
"M-Master and Mistress be calling you for lunch, Master Draco," the elf stuttered out, its voice trembling slightly, as it instantly vanished a second later.
I sighed audibly in exasperation, as I made my way to the Dining Hall with a leisurely stride, taking my time to savor the opulence that surrounded me. We had a 'Ministry approved' local Floo installed all over the mansion that wasn't connected to the larger network, but it simply filled me with deep satisfaction knowing that all of this luxury, art, exquisite jewelry, and grandeur was or would be mine. The thought of inheriting the Malfoy estate, with all its wealth, made me smirk.
My face softened into a light smile as I entered the Dining Hall. The oppressive atmosphere from yesterday seemed to have dissipated somewhat, much to my relief. Mother and Father were already seated, their postures less rigid than before.
"Morning, Mother, Father," I greeted, inclining my head respectfully as I took my seat. They returned my greeting with measured nods, their voices carrying a hint of warmth that had been strained the previous evening.
No sooner had I settled into my chair than a veritable feast materialised on the dining table. The house-elves had outdone those at Hogwarts, presenting an array of delectable dishes that would have made even the Hogwarts Great Hall envious. I began eating at a sedate pace, savoring each morsel while maintaining the poise expected of a Malfoy.
"Any plans for today, Draco?" Mother questioned, her tone casual yet tinged with curiosity.
I dabbed at my mouth with a napkin before replying, "Ah, I planned to visit Diagon Alley today. I wanted to procure a couple of books."
Father's eyebrow arched slightly, a flicker of interest crossing his otherwise impassive features. "Starting early this year? Perhaps you'll claim the top spot in your class this coming term," he remarked, as my previous easygoing smile faltered.
The words stung more than I cared to admit. If it hadn't been for the merger of my pastselve, I might have felt crushed by the implied criticism. As it was, I couldn't entirely suppress my disappointment at his words.
Mother, ever perceptive, intervened swiftly. "I'm proud of you, dear," she said, her voice warm. "I'm certain you'll achieve it this year." As she spoke, she shot Father with a pointed glare that could have curdled milk.
My smile returned, "Thank you, Mother," I replied, my voice steady. "I'll certainly do my utmost to bring honour to the Malfoy name."
Father nodded approvingly, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents of tension his earlier comment had stirred. "Very good, Draco. Remember, knowledge is power, and in these... uncertain times, we must arm ourselves with every advantage." I couldn't help but notice the slight hesitation in his voice, the barely perceptible tightening around his eyes.
As the conversation lulled, I felt a bit exhausted already. 'I need to refresh myself,' I thought, rising from my seat with a respectful nod to both parents. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll take a short flight before heading to Diagon Alley."
Father's eyebrow arched slightly, but he nodded his approval. "A sound idea, Draco. Clear skies make for clear thoughts." Father replied, he himself had been a chaser for the Slytherin team.
I made my way outside, knowing the shops in Diagon Alley wouldn't open for another couple of hours anyway. I called for an elf and with a soft pop it appeared. "Fetch my Nimbus 2000," I ordered the small creature as it hurried to comply.
Moments later, the sleek broomstick appeared in my hands. I ran my fingers along its polished handle, admiring the craftsmanship. Mounting the broom, I relied on Draco's muscle memory and instincts, as I pushed off from the ground.
The rush of the cool morning air against my face felt amazing as I shot skyward. A grin spread across my face, unbidden and genuine. The vast expanse of Malfoy land stretched out beneath me, a patchwork of manicured lawns, dense woods, and shimmering ponds.
Suddenly, I banked hard, turning my trajectory towards the ground. I leaned forward, picking up speed as I hurtled earthward. On a broom, hesitation is your enemy. Hesitate, and you end up with an injured arm like Longbottom – or worse. But I believed in myself, while I may not be a freak of nature like Potter, I was certainly a great flyer in my own right.
At the last possible moment, I pulled up sharply, the bristles of my broom barely grazing the tops of the grass. An involuntary whoop of joy escaped my lips as I soared back into the sky, as I felt my heart pound with exhilaration.
The Muggle aspect of me had been admittedly nervous at first, unused to this method of flight. But as I carved through the air, executing loops and dives with increasing confidence, I found myself captivated. Flying like this was freeing in a way I'd never experienced before – no engines, no metal frame, just me and the broom and the sky as I felt my previously tense muscles loosen.
For a moment, I was just Draco Malfoy, a boy on a broom, revelling in the simple joy of a flight.
A couple of hours went by, as an elf popped on the ground calling for me. I touched down on the manicured lawn, my cheeks flushed and my blonde hair windswept, the elf informed me that it was time for me to leave.
I dismounted, handing the broom off to the house-elf. "Prepare my robes for Diagon Alley and retrieve my money-pouch," I instructed, my voice stronger than before due to the lingering adrenaline from the flight. "I'll be leaving shortly." With that said, I entered back inside. With a couple of flicks of my wand and a few muttered incantations, I felt the magic wash over me, leaving me looking fresh and presentable.
I went over to the Floo, taking a pinch of the powder. As I threw it in, the fire inside flashed an emerald green colour. I stepped through, clearly enunciating, "Leaky Cauldron." I've previously used the Floo many times, so I closed my eyes - only an idiot like Potter would keep their eyes open. I ignored the roaring of flames for a couple of seconds, and as soon as the sound stopped, without hesitation, I stepped through, opening my eyes.
The Leaky Cauldron was a shabby place. There wasn't much lighting, and all types of loons were around - from hags (I felt a sneer form on my face) to dwarves, to your everyday wizard drinking away their sorrows and chatting away. It was a pity that the gateway to our world was this... I shook my head, best not to get distracted, I had better things to do.
I walked to the back door as I swiftly retrieved my wand from the pocket on my robe. There was an extra seven inches just to keep your wand. There weren't any wand holsters that were commonly used, though I may commission one - they certainly sounded useful. I swiftly tapped out the sequence to open the brick wall to Diagon.
I stepped through and let out a smile. The magical world was just that - magical. Contrary to what the movies had shown, Diagon, while a narrow road, had hundreds of different shops and branching alleys, where there were apartments and other minor establishments such as parks. The sight was joyous: children were playing around with each other, running around with smiles on their faces; adult wizards appeared and disappeared every now and then; friends in robes were hanging out and relaxing. At the end of the alley was Gringotts.
As I walked down the street Flourish Blotts, I couldn't help but notice the mix of people around me. Families with excited children having fun, older students roaming there with their friends from Hogwarts.
Entering Flourish Blotts, a short conversation with the clerk had the expected result; there weren't any books on Occlumency as far as he knew. I spent some time browsing the haphazardly arranged books. There were piles of books on different topics, each grouped together. There wasn't a Quality Control for books, in bookshops like these; you could find a journal of a muggle next to a guide on duelling by an accomplished dueling master.
With a simple enquiry to the clerk, I was able to get the books that the third years would have used this year for charms, transfiguration and potions. At the last moment, I took fourth year books as well as the clerk shrank them. I didn't take Lockhart's 'DADA' books though.
His face blanked, a flicker of something - greed, perhaps? - passing through his eyes. "I do," he said, turning abruptly and disappearing into the back of the shop.
A couple of minutes passed, each second feeling longer than the last. Finally, Borgin returned, his arms laden with a stack of old, leather-bound tomes. The musty smell of old parchment filled the air as he set them on the counter with a dull thud.
"These are all of them," Borgin announced, a sly grin spreading across his face. "15,000 Galleons."
I was barely able to keep my face impassive after hearing the outrageous price, but I managed to maintain my composure. Instead, I turned around, looking at some of the other items on display, feigning disinterest. "3,000," I countered coolly.
Borgin's eyes widened, and he rapidly shook his head, his greasy hair swaying with the motion. "12,000, at least my good sir!" he shot back, his voice a mix of mock indignation and shrewdness.
I paused, considering. The books were valuable, yes, but not at that price. "4,500," I replied, my tone firm.
Borgin's beady eyes narrowed, his gaze darting between me and the stack of books. I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he weighed his options. Finally, he spoke, "7,500. Take it or leave it." His tone suggested this was his final offer.
I mulled it over for a moment. It was more than I had initially wanted to pay, but the offer was acceptable. He was likely still ripping me off, but it was better to get it from him than to walk around in this alley freely to look for another shop. With a slight nod, I accepted his offer.
A smile spread across Borgin's face as he extended his hand, clearly expecting to seal the deal with a handshake. I pointedly ignored the gesture, instead reaching for my wand. With a tap and a murmured incantation, I summoned the necessary amount from my pouch.
As I gathered the books, shrinking them to fit in my pocket, I couldn't help but wince internally at the hit to my savings. 7,500 Galleons was a small sum for Father but I didn't have access to those funds yet.
With a final nod to Borgin, I turned and strode out of the shop.
Okay, so I've decided to stop advanced-chapters. They just aren't for me.
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