CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER VIII
1991, October 31st
“Wingardium Leviosa!”
A chorus of “Wingardium Leviosas” resounded as students swished and flicked their wands at the feathers on their desks. Draco looked over their tiny heads in disinterest. He wished he could just skip the class or at the very least, attend school with the seventh-years, or sixth-years. Considering he learned practically nothing during those two years. He was preoccupied.
He listened absentmindedly to Granger’s “It’s Levi-o-sa, not Levio-sar.” Quite the enlightening instruction if Weasel would just listen. But who is he to say?
“Draco, stop playing with your feather and help me with mine!” A shrill voice cut through his mind.
He focused back on the girl beside him when a flicker of a white silhouette passed by their faces. It was his feather, levitating and turning all around their heads while Pansy’s was still laying gently on the desk.
“Well Pans, you heard Granger. It’s Wingardium Levi-o-sa, not Levio-sar.” An indignant huff was heard in the distance, but for all of Draco’s concerns, he'd misheard.
Pansy scoffed, “Draco, I know you think you’re so cute right now, but you’re not exactly helping.” He huffed out a small laugh.
“But Pansy, I’m busy with my own feather,” Draco said, rather juvenilely. But to make it a point, he levitated his feather to flutter in front of her face.
“Oh, my g— You’re impossible.” She huffed and swatted the feather away.
“I’ll help you, Pansy.”
“Thank you, Blaise. You are always ever so helpful, unlike somebody here.” Draco could feel a glare at the back of his head. So, he turned to his friends with a wide-open smile. And he got an eye roll for all his efforts. He’s quite hurt. He looked back, once again, to the tiny children in front of him waving around sticks trying to make something as light as a feather float. He sighed, and he sat back, playing with his feather as he recounted the days that had led up to Samhain.
Draco had been spending the last weeks going through the different hurdles set by the professors as security for something. He had an inkling of what it was, but he couldn’t confirm anything yet. He felt that some things are missing, and he doesn’t have the full picture yet. The Gringotts break-in, where nothing was stolen. Nobody would break into a bank full of goblins just to steal nothing. This could only mean one thing; the thief had a very specific treasure they wanted to steal but failed to find it. He had been trying to investigate which vault was broken into without raising any suspicions. But it is time-consuming. Draco blames the goblins. What purpose is the mountain piles' worth of money if he can’t buy everything with it? Draco sighed into his hand. But the most important was the slaughter of unicorns. Draco is sure the figure he had seen in his first-year detention is Quirrell, or should he say, the Dark Lord. A state of half death and half-life.
His mind wandered back to his numerous trips to the third-floor corridor.
…
Silence reigned in the dark halls of Hogwarts as a small shadow lurked through the winding empty corridor. Draco has been going back to the door where a three-headed guardian of hell slumbers. He had gone past the beast with a violin he had transfigured. As expected, the Cerberus quickly fell asleep after he played a few notes. Draco quickly opened the hatch and peered down the dark hole that seemed to drop below the bottom of the castle ground. He was so engrossed with coming up with an idea to descend slowly that he almost missed the soft growls coming from the soon awakening dog. And when he snapped to attention the dog had been awake enough to sense an intruder.
Draco would like to say he had handled the situation smoothly and elegantly, but instead, he slipped on a puddle of drool by the latch and promptly fell down the hole with a muffled yelp. Casting multiple layers of cushioning charms haphazardly and dropping into a nest of Devil’s Snare. Which was easily dealt with by a bit of light.
Of course, the slight hiccup didn’t deter him from moving forward through the tunnel, for it was the only way he could go at the time. And, oh, the things he had seen… Any self-respectable wizards would’ve scoffed at the trials placed as security measurements; they are nothing but child’s play. Considering three first-years were able to go past them on their own in Draco’s past timeline is a big tell. At one point, flying on the broom trying to catch the big silver key almost made him feel youthful, imagine his glee.
Draco was laughing his face off, but for quite a different reason. They expect this to stop a grown wizard?
Eventually, Draco could no longer laugh as he stood in front of a giant chessboard. The white pawns looked down at him with their hollow expressions; Draco returned the gesture with his own chilling gaze. He commends the professors for their wonderful feats of magic and spell-casting, if not for their lack of practicality. He only felt irritated as he recalled the reasons why Dumbledore had rewarded the golden trio so many points at the end of their first year. Chess, of all things.
At this, Draco could only say he was disheartened. All of this is ridiculous. The fact that he’s even here in the first place is ridiculous! He deflated in defeat as he clutched at the broom in his hand. He looked down at it and back to the seemingly expanding chessboard in front of him. He could just fly over everything, his mind offered absently, and the next thing he knew, he was standing across the big chasm of black and white tiles, the pawns behind him, unmoving. He continued to walk.
Passing through empty rooms after empty rooms only made the hollowed hole in his heart more prominent. Then, he finally stopped at a circular chamber with nothing but a small raised podium in the middle. Honestly, Draco didn’t know what to expect, but an empty room wasn’t one of them. Was the treasure invisible?
He stumbled around with his hands in front of him, feeling stupider by the second as time ticked by. Searching through the entire chamber finding not a single secret opening or any traces of a spell. Draco stopped in front of the small raised platform. Something is supposed to be there, he realized feebly. He stood there idly, silently; Draco can’t help but feel like he'd just gotten kicked by a puppy.
He’s in yet another dead end…
…
BOOM!
Draco flinched, stood up immediately, and pointed his wand in the direction the sound had come from. The classroom was silent as both Slytherins and Gryffindors stared at him. Finnigan had blown up his feather, and Draco is pointing his wand at him. Draco wasn’t sure if anyone in the room was breathing.
“My. Malfoy!” Professor Flitwick materialized before him, pulling his arm down. “What is the meaning of this?” He asked, though not unkindly.
“…Excuse me, I was surprised.” Draco’s voice felt distant, even to himself. There were several concerned gazes on his face, but Draco couldn’t see nor feel any of it as loud roars continued to boom in his ears. It’s nothing, he told himself. It was just Finnigan and his pyromaniac tendencies, it was nothing. He continued this mantra in his head, his eyes, hollow.
“Draco?” Pansy asked hesitantly. She stared at her unresponsive friend, hoping to see a change from his closed-off expression. She and Blaise looked at each other in worry, Draco has always been sensitive to loud noises, especially sudden ones, but it has been a while since he had reacted in such a way, so disconnected.
Pansy grabbed his pale hand into her own. That seemed to finally bring Draco to his senses as he slowly turned to her. His eyes were glassy, almost confused at what he is seeing. “…I’m alright, Pans.”
“You sure, Dray?”
“…Yes.”
Pansy can almost see the mask Draco tried to don on his face shatter as he dropped his eyes, no longer able to look at her and lie. At that, a sudden fire broke out in her heart, why is he still trying to lie? Did he think she wouldn’t be able to tell? Does he not trust her? But she took a deep breath, and she rubbed her thumb on the back of his hand soothingly. Draco’s feather, long forgotten, fell gently on her table, finally still. She’ll be patient.
When classes had finally ended, Pansy and Blaise led Draco down to the courtyard they would always frequent. And Draco dutifully followed them. He is aware that they were trying to distract him from whatever was plaguing his mind with mindless chatter. But their words fell on deaf ears as he only hummed to appease their worried looks.
Much has changed since his return, and one of the changes was how he'd see his friends. At first, when he had woken up: frenzied and crazed. He could only think of who he could use. Who could help him in his deranged ambition to save his parents? But in the two years of slow torment and reflections, he came to the realization that he could not bear to see them as just pawns. He could not let someone else live the life he despised. Indeed, so much has changed. Draco continued to follow the two innocent souls in front of him
They are so bright, Draco thought. So bright it’s scathing. So different from the shriveled husks he remembered from his past life; the hollowed cheeks and grey-tinted skin. Grief and hopelessness darkened their eyes as they were denied a proper farewell to a friend. Draco will forever remember that day. It was then he had completely and utterly given up. He looked up from the cobbles on the floor to his friends with a solemn face, then his eyes drifted to the polished walls of the castle. Students trickled around the grounds like petals floating on a busy stream, an image Draco was surprised to have graced his mind. The light chatter mixed in with the peaceful atmosphere of lazy school life. It should’ve been a haven compared to the years of dread he went through, but it only tore at his heart, like a curse eating away at his already crippled conscience.
He shouldn’t be here, Draco suddenly realized as he stopped in his trek. He is a coward who bullied those who couldn’t fight back, and in turn, a coward who succumbed to fear in the face of absolute power. A scum who had committed unthinkable acts, leading Death Eater into a sanctuary, inflicting violence on children younger than him with a mindless command. He shouldn't be here enjoying the peaceful life of an eleven-year-old where the only problem was exams and school gossip. He felt like curling into himself and closing his eyes, blocking everything out of his sight. His brows locked together as a dark mist fell over his gaze. And for a moment, he stood there, dazed and at a loss of what to do. He thought back to all the things he’d seen as a Death Eater. All the desperate and vile things he’d done, all the red he had spilled with his hands. And he did all that just to have a few measly moments of reprieve.
Suddenly, he was overwhelmed. A low whimper slipped out his tight throat as Draco felt a twist in his gut. He looked back at the two bickering children in front of him. Still full of youthful energy, still full of warmth. And Draco managed, somehow, to calm his racing breaths.
There is still time. Draco told himself as his hand snaked into a pocket in his robe. His fist closed around a brown parcel.
He still has time.
…
It was a serene ambiance all around the great hall. Warm and hearty. Children, munching away on the Halloween feast prepared by elves of Hogwarts. Vince and Greg are one of them.
“You two are such pigs! Can’t you eat slower? It’s not like the food is going anywhere.” Pansy looked at them with disgust. They only grunted in return, too busy enjoying the delicious treats in front of them to mind the jab.
“At least drink some pumpkin juice. We wouldn’t want you choking on your food,” Pansy said exasperatedly.
“That won’t happen,” Greg said, grinning with a mouth full of food. Pansy looked ready to faint.
And they continued to eat as a mindless chatter washed over them. Draco nursed a cup of tea in his hand as he looked around the room, his eyes finally fell to the head table where the professors sat. Everyone was there, and that made the lone empty seat that much more disconcerting. Quirrell is missing. Of course, Draco knows where the man is and what he’s doing. His hand came to rest on the package hidden in his cloak; he could already smell the stench of the Dungbombs. It is about time he acts.
He looked back at the young Slytherins.
“I think I’ll retire early.” He made to rise from his seat but Pansy latched onto his arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Caution was in her eyes.
Draco smiled.
“Where do you think I’m going?” He chirped back.
“How would I know? You’re not going to wander around the castle again, are you?” She scoffed.
Draco patted her head and pulled her hand off his arm, “Of course I am. I couldn’t sleep if I didn’t have my nightly stroll around the castle.” To which Pansy rolled her eyes.
“Fine, I don’t care about you anymore. I hope you fall into a ditch somewhere.”
Blaise spoke up placatingly, “Go have your walk, Draco. We’ll be right behind you.”
“Oh, no, it’s alright. You guys can have a date first. I don’t want to intrude,“ Draco teased the dark-skinned boy. And a deep maroon hue painted the boy’s cheeks. Draco sneaked a peek at Pansy; The girl was sitting in a way where her back was all he could see, but the red tint on her ears was a clear indicator of her mood.
“Okay, why don’t you go now.” Draco laughed as he walked out of the great hall.
The two remaining Slytherins looked at each other with bashful glances. But a clear difference in distance just from a moment ago was shown as they sat closer to each other, almost shoulder to shoulder. It was a small pocket of warmth the two children enjoyed together before a loud bang broke through the air.
Quirrell stood in the opened doors, panting and stuttering before--
“TROLL!” He managed to shout.
“A troll in the dungeon! Thought you ought to know…”
He fainted.
People stared at the sprawled figure on the floor, mouths agape in shock as they processed the words the man shouted just seconds ago. The silence, was palpable and eerie before the hall erupted in chaos.