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“Draco! Get up now! It’s time,” came a voice wafting through Draco’s subconscious. It was awhile before Draco realized it was his father trying to get him up. He groaned loudly and rolled over in his bed, and looked at his watch. It was six in the morning.

By the time Draco was downstairs, and ready to eat breakfast he had kicked Dobby out of his way twice.

“What took you?” came Draco’s father’s voice from the dining room.

“Dobby kept getting in my way,” answered Draco with an undetectable sneer.

“Eat your breakfast before I give it to Dobby,” said Draco’s father.

“Yes, father,” answered Draco, as he started his breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon, toast, and kippers. When he was done, he pushed a bookcase, which was on the other side of the room, over and walked through a passage leading to a room. Draco’s father was waiting there.

“Do we have to do this again?” whined Draco. “It’s really hard and painful.”

“If you whine to me again I’ll give you something to whine about, and it won’t be fun, believe me,” said Draco’s father said irritably.

“Yes, father,” whispered Draco looking down at his hundred galleon shoes.

“Are you ready?” asked Draco’s father, but before Draco could answer he yelled, “Imperio!”

Draco felt the all too normal feeling that he had no control over anything, not that he had any control of his life even when he wasn’t under the Imperious curse. He wanted to do anything and everything his father wanted him to do.

“Look at me Draco,” came a dreamy yet firm voice from somewhere in the room. Draco quickly looked up at his father. If only he could fight it somehow, but he was too weak, and his father too strong. He spent an hour doing his father’s will in the special room. Before his mother came down.

“He’s suffered enough Lucius,” she said. “Let him go.”

“You know why I do this Narcissa,” he retorted.

“Yes, I do,” she said staring him down. “To make him stronger, but you have done plenty for today. Now, let him go!”

“I’ll do what I want with my son!” he yelled.

“He’s my son just as much as yours. And you will let him go,” she retorted.

“I wish they would they would just stop fighting. They are always in some sort of fight, and it’s usually over me. Why can’t my father just let me be?” thought Draco, on the verge of tears at the sight of his parents fighting, but he couldn’t cry no, not in front of his father, he would think Draco was a wimp. Nor in front of his mother, who would become overprotective for the rest of his life. No, he had to go to his room.

Draco spent most of the rest of the week sulking in his room. The only thing that kept him going was that thing definitely could be worse. If Harry Potter had not defeated the Dark Lord, Draco would be doing whatever Voldemort wanted him to do, so in a way Harry Potter was his hero. He could never tell his father this, because he is a very strong follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and hates the Boy Who Lived.

Finally the day had come. It was July twenty-seventh, Draco’s birthday. He never got a real party, but always got the best gifts from his family, and his two best, and only friends Crabbe and Goyle. His gifts were of the finest of everything, and his mother got him the one thing he had been hoping for since it had come out, the Nimbus 2000. It was wonderful. After he unwrapped it, he ignored the rest of his unopened gifts, and ran outside to give it a ride.

The Nimbus turned perfectly, was twice as fast as the new Cleansweep, and was immaculately clean and beautiful.

Then he got two letters, each from a wizarding school. His father quickly snatched the one with a large letter “D” with a snake circling around it, read it, then yelled, “Idiot boy! I told you to study for the Durmstrang test. What were you doing up in that room of yours while you were supposed to be studying?”

Draco knew very well that he was out with Crabbe and Goyle, who were supposed to be studying also. They were flying around the city on broomsticks, but he couldn’t tell his father about that. Instead he said back, “I was studying. The test was hard.”

“You are a liar, and a disgrace. Waah, waah. The test was hard,” mocked Lucius in a high voice. “You disappoint me Draco.” Then he threw the letter back to Draco. It read:

Mr. D. Malfoy,

We regret to inform you that your performance on the test given to you by the Admissions Office of Durmstrang School for the Dark Arts was not good enough for any scholarship. If you still wish to come to our school then you will have to pay the full fee, which is 10,000 galleons per term. We hope to see you at the front desk on September tenth, on the first day of term.
Professor Karkoraff, Headmaster

Karkoraff


Draco looked at the forgotten letter in his hand and saw it was from Hogwarts. “At least they don’t turn down any wizard,” thought Draco. He ripped it open read it, and said, “Well, at least I can go to Hogwarts.”

“Oh, goody. You can learn Defence Against the Dark Arts,” said Draco’s father sarcastically.

“Sorry father.”

“You’d better be. If you get put in Hufflepuff, I’m taking you straight to Durmstrang. I will not be embarrassed that way, or have you embarrass the rest of the family.”

“He will not be going to Durmstrang!” yelled Narcissa. “It is too far away.”

“Fine, then I will put him to work, and home school him. So you better not get sorted into Hufflepuff.

“Yes, father,” answered Draco.

On the morning of July thirty-first, Lucius came into Draco’s room, which was very odd. He woke Draco with a wave of his wand, and said, “Draco, you will be going to a dinner party with me tonight. It is at the Parkinson’s manor. They have a girl your age that is going to Hogwarts, and maybe some others. I want you to meet them and become friends.”

“Yes, father. What will I wear?” Draco replied. “I don’t have any dress robes.”

“We will buy you a pair of dress robes in Diagon Alley today when we buy your school things.

Lucius took Draco to Diagon Alley, gave him the key to one of their many family vaults at Gringotts, and left him. Draco went directly to Gringotts. A small goblin bowed to him. Draco glared at him and said, “Bow lower you inferior beast.” The goblin stared horrified for a second then regained its composure, bowed, and then as soon as Draco’s back was turned stuck out its tongue.

“Why do I do that?” thought Draco. “Why do I take out my anger on everyone else? I probably get it from my father. He’s the most hateful person I know.”

He walked over to the door to the vaults, and called for a goblin. A rather tall (for a goblin at least) goblin waddled over, and walked him to a cart. Draco went to his vault, grabbed a lot of money, and left.

He walked into to Madame Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, and Madame Malkin asked if he was here for Hogwarts robes. Draco said, “That and also some dress robes.”

“What color dear?” Madame Malkin asked.

“Midnight blue, if you have it,” he answered.

He stood on a stool, ready to be fitted, and he waited for the witch to finish the fitting. After a little while, he heard the tinkle of the door opening and closing, and a boy with messy black hair walked in.

(A/N I have quoted some of these next few lines from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K.Rowling on pages 77 and 78 of the American paper back edition, and I do not claim them to be my own. The words in bold are JKR’s, and those not bolded are my own.)

“Hello,” said Draco, “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yes,” said the boy.


“I have to make something up to impress him, I’ve got to,” thought Draco then said, “My father’s next door buying books and my mother’s up the street looking at wands. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

“Have you got your own broom?” Draco asked nervously.

“No,” said the boy looking confused.


Then Draco saw it. The scar. This was Harry Potter, his savior. He had to impress him. He had to become friends with him, so he said, “I do—Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?"

“No,” said Harry with a blank look on his face.


“Why did I ask that? It was a stupid question nobody knows the answer before September first,” thought Draco, who then corrected himself. “Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been--.” He had to suppress a shudder at the thought of it. “imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmm,” said Harry.


Then Draco noticed a very large man outside the window, and said, "I say, look at that man!”

“That’s Hagrid,” Harry said,
looking pleased for the first time during their conversation.

“Oh,” Draco said, “I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?”

“He’s the gamekeeper,” Harry said.


“Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, he didn’t seemed too happy with me, next time I’ll compliment Hagrid,” thought Draco, who then said, “Yes, exactly. I heard he’s sort of savage—lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.” “Oh no, did I say that out loud,” thought Draco. “Oh great, now he’ll never like me.”

“I think he’s brilliant,” said Harry coldly.

“Do you?” said Draco, with a natural sneer. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead,” said Harry shortly.

“Oh, sorry,” said Draco, and thought,
“How could I be so stupid? Of course his parents were dead. I knew that.” “But they were our kind, weren’t they?”

“They were witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean.”


“I hope he feels the same way about this as my father, well, her it goes,” Draco thought and then said, “I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they got their letters, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname anyways?”

But before Draco knew if Harry felt the same way as Draco’s father Madame Malkin said, “That’s you done, my dear.” And Harry started to leave.

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” said Draco, and Harry left.


(A/N: This is mine)

Draco turned to the witch fitting him, “Why was he done first, I’ve been here longer?”

“Well, Madame Malkin is faster then I am,” answered the witch.

“Then I should have gotten her, since I came in first,” Draco scoffed.

As soon as Draco paid and left he went to get books, a cauldron, a new hat and gloves, and a new wand. Draco flooed home, when he was finished, and spent the rest of the afternoon doing magic in his room.

At six o’clock he put on his dress robes, and walked downstairs. His parents were waiting for him there. Draco quickly ran down the remainder of the steps and said, “I’m ready!”

“You look so handsome, Draco. I know you’ll make some friends at this dinner party,” his mother cooed.

“Let’s hope so,” his father said harshly. “Come, family. We cannot be late. We are going to apparate. You must tell no one that you apparated, Draco.”

“Won’t the ministry find out somehow?” asked Draco.

“Are you questioning my power, young Draco?”

“No, father.”

Lucius then said as he waved his wand in a circular motion over Draco’s head, “Desino Esse.”

Draco fell into total blackness, it was as if he simply was not in existence. Then all of a sudden he was out side of a large house lit by millions of lights. Him, his mother, and father walked in, and were greeted by a dark-haired girl that was Draco’s age.

“Hi,” said the girl. “My name is Pansy Parkinson.”

“Hi. Malfoy…Draco Malfoy,” Draco said confidently.

Pansy laughed. “Good imitation of James Bond. I like the way you make fun of Muggles.”

“Who’s James Bond?” asked Draco with a confused look on his face.

“It’s some stupid man on the Muggle telebox thingy who goes around, and saves like five people by shooting about a hundred others with a Muggle killing device called a…a…I forgot. Oh, well who cares?” answered Pansy.

“OK,” said Draco. “So do you know of any other kids our age that are going to Hogwarts that will be here.”

“Yeah, a few are here. We are all up on the fifth floor. I saw you apparate, which is so rebellious and cool, so I came down to get you.”

“Lead the way to the fifth floor then. I’m totally bored.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Who’s he Pansy?” asked a tall skinny kid with quite a bit of muscle. “Do you know him? Is he new? Is he going to Hog-?”

“SHUT UP ZABINI!” a tall chubby girl said with her fists up.

“Chill out Bull, I just wanted to know a few things before we trust him,” said the kid named Zabini. “Sooo, are you, or aren’t you going to answer me kid?”

“Well,” said Draco. “My name is Draco Malfoy, and-.”

“You’re a Malfoy!” exclaimed a kid in the corner.

“Yeah. You got a problem with that,” said Draco walking up to the boy. “OK be firm. Make him be scared of you.”

“N-No, of course not. My father told me all about your family. You’re the family with the purest wizard blood on the whole planet. That’s so cool.”

“Thanks, but as I was saying, I am going to Hogwarts. What about you all?”

“All of us are going to Hogwarts this year or are going the year after,” answered Pansy who was staring at him with large eyes.

“And what are your names?”

Pansy quickly answered for everyone, “Well obviously I’m Pansy Parkinson.”

“That’s Blaise Zabini,” she said and pointed to the kid whose first name, Draco thought, was Zabini.

“That is Millicent Bullstrode,” she pointed to the tall, chubby girl that Blaise had called Bull.

“Over there is Theodore Nott,” she pointed to the boy in the corner. And on and on she went with each name.

“I have a couple of friends that are pure-blood. Their names are Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe, but just call ’em Crabbe and Goyle,” said Malfoy glad to no someone they didn’t.

“Oh, we already know Crabbe and Goyle,” said Nott, “but thanks for telling us.”

For the rest of the night they talked about their parents, their money, and their mansions. They also talked about what house they wanted to be in, which was all Slytherin. By the time the party was over they considered Draco the leader of their “gang”.

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