The Most Evil Plan Ever
It took more months than I was happy with for my brain to retain consciousness for a reliable amount of time. I wasn’t quite sure how old I was at the moment, but looking at Draco—the Draco Malfoy—I guesstimated I was probably around a year old.
Speaking of my brother, I’m so glad I have memories of him at this age because his dimples were to die for. I haven’t seen myself in a reflection yet, but I swear, if I don’t have dimples like those, I’ll be the most troublesome child in the world.
Also, my mother was quite frantic about getting me to speak, which I was very reluctant to do. Father was less worried, since I wasn’t crawling around with kitchen knives like my Aunt Bella apparently was at this age, but I could tell he was definitely concerned.
Once I was able to think without being interrupted by my own thought process, I was able to panic respectfully—as one does when reborn as a magical rich kid. Then, somehow, I got my bearings and decided I needed a plan of action.
A goal for this life.
First things first: money does buy happiness, so my number one goal is to make sure the Malfoy family stays on the elite side of the wizarding world. That means, whatever happens, I have to make sure my family doesn’t fall into the terrible state it became after the Harry Potter series ended.
Right now, my best plan is to use my terrible cuteness to convince my parents to maybe be nicer to the less fortunate. I haven’t had the opportunity to set this plan in motion yet, and I’m seriously relying on the chances that I might end up with dimples like my twin’s.
My second-best option is so cruel that I’m having a horrible time keeping myself from giving up on it. It might only have a couple of uses after the cover is blown, but statistically, it will be the most successful. My parents will most likely do just about anything right now to get me to talk. If I keep silent until the best moment to ask for something, they would probably grant it without even realizing what I’ve asked for.
Unlike my twin. My new brother has already asked for just about everything under the sun, and he only knows five words.
My next goal for living a happy life is to save as many of my favorite characters as I can—without risking the Malfoys’ position in society.
I am currently still a small, speechless baby, so that goal will definitely have to wait until I at least meet them.
Although, today might be the day I meet the most emotionally conflicting character I’ve ever read about: the snarky bastard himself. The double spy, backstabbing Severus Snape.
Right now, Mother is trying to calmly wake Draco from his nap without causing him to become his grumpiest self.
She will most likely be unsuccessful.
I, however, am staring patiently, like the favorite child I know I will be. It’s not even a competition at this point—I’m definitely the best-behaved. My brother cries, and Mother consoles him while handing him to Father, then turns to pick me up.
“Hello, Ursa. Are you ready to meet your godfather?” she coos as she reaches down to scoop me out of the crib.
I give a hopefully dimpled, gummy smile.
“Ah, yes, very excited, I see.” Then, as a beautiful family unit, Mother and Father walk to the parlor to receive our guest.