The Hogwarts Express

The morning before boarding the Hogwarts Express was always hectic, this year being no different. The usually spotless Malfoy Manor was in a state of disorder, with quills, textbooks, cloaks, and parchment randomly strewn across the floor.

“How many times,” Narcissa began wearily, “have I told you to pack the night before?”

Draco remained silent as he threw items into his trunk. Narcissa simply shook her head and flicked her wand at each item that Draco threw, which neatly folded them midair.

Draco knew he had no retort to give. He’d decided long ago to leave his mother out of the Dark Lord’s mission; she’d already shown her total lack of faith in his abilities, and involving her would just be stressful for both of them. But it was getting harder to keep silent with every day that passed, especially when Narcissa scolded him for the smallest of things. For had she looked into Draco’s room late last night, she would have seen him pacing the room, much too preoccupied to be even thinking about packing.

The euphoria of discovering the pair of Vanishing Cabinets had disappeared since his last visit to Diagon Alley. The problem of fixing the broken cabinet, inside the protected Hogwarts, under the watchful eye of the man that he was supposed to kill, loomed over Draco like a constant rain cloud. He’d only gotten a few hours of sleep the past week, and spent most nights restlessly worrying about the upcoming year. He’d never felt so lost in his life. Anything that had needed fixing was always taken care of by the house-elf, and something told him that the Vanishing Cabinet wouldn’t be fixed by a snap of Lolly’s fingers.

Anyhow, Draco could only truly rely on himself; he had no idea when the Dark Lord was expecting his task to be completed, and so, Draco assumed the sooner, the better. Involving others would only prolong the process. Since realizing the connection between the Cabinets, Draco would sneak into the manor’s library whenever Narcissa wasn’t looking, and try and get his hands on any book about magical objects. Unfortunately for him, most of the books dealt with Dark Objects, and most of these had been moved to a location outside of the manor for fear of Ministry raids. Last night, he decided that he’d just have to wait till he got to Hogwarts and could actually see the cabinet. Then, he unconvincingly reassured himself, a stroke of genius would surely hit him.

“Draco!” Narcissa said loudly. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?”

Draco snapped out of his thoughts and turned towards his mother. “What?”

“I was just saying that you might want to go eat something before we leave.” She checked the grandfather clock in the corner of Draco’s room worriedly. “We’re going to be late.”

Draco didn’t feel very hungry at the moment; he was much too worried. But rather than start an argument, one that he’d surely lose, he grudgingly went downstairs and yelled for Lolly.

~*~

Draco had to push his way through the throng of students on platform nine and three quarters to get to Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle followed. They seemed to be having no trouble at all, as they were so large, students simply leaped out of their way.

Draco could hear his mother’s voice trail behind him. “I’ll meet you before the train leaves…in about ten minutes!” He rolled his eyes just as he neared Blaise and Pansy.

“What’s wrong?” Pansy asked, noting his annoyed expression.

“My mother’s too overbearing,” Draco replied offhandedly.

Blaise smirked. “How sweet,” he snickered.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t make faces if I were you, Blaise.” It was common knowledge that Blaise was very fond of his mother.

Blaise uncharacteristically blushed and hastened to change the subject. “How was your summer? I didn’t spot you in Diagon Alley.”

“I didn’t spend much time there. I was in Knockturn Alley for a bit.”

“What for?” Pansy interjected.

“I dropped by Borgin and Burke’s, I was looking at the-” Draco hesitated at Pansy and Blaise’s interested faces, unsure whether he should continue. On one hand, he never liked missing an opportunity to boast. If he explained the events of the summer, they’d definitely be impressed with his idea of the Vanishing Cabinets, and even scared with the Dark Lord’s newfound trust in him. Even so, he didn’t want anyone meddling in his affairs- too much was at stake.

“I was just saying hello to Borgin,” he finished lamely. Their keen expressions disappeared, and Pansy promptly started ranting about her new dress robes.

Suddenly, Draco noticed Crabbe and Goyle weren’t behind him. He turned around and saw their two lumbering figures towering over a scrawny boy who seemed to be in his first year. Thankful for the excuse to escape Pansy’s annoying voice, he casually strolled over.

“What seems to be the problem?” he drawled.

Crabbe and Goyle looked up looking very confused. Both had identical faces of utter bewilderment. Draco had to hold back a laugh.

“What’s the problem?” Goyle repeated, still looking flabbergasted. “I’m not sure.” Beneath him, the first year was trying to rid himself of Goyle’s gorilla-like grip.

Draco shook his head disbelievingly and turned to the first year. A dark container embossed with gold writing was clutched in his trembling hand.

“What do you have there?” Draco asked the boy maliciously.

The boy stammered, “N-nothing. Just s-something from Diagon Alley…” His voice trailed off while he nervously glanced between Draco and the entrance to the train.

“Sure doesn’t look like nothing.”

“It’s j-just a toy!”

Draco whipped out his wand and pointed it under the first year’s chin, hoping he didn’t know about the underage magic restrictions. Judging by the look of terror that masked his small face, he did not.

“D-don’t hurt me!” the boy squeaked.

“Hand it over,” Draco said, smirking. The boy reluctantly handed over the container.

“Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,” Draco read out loud. He read the fine print and grimaced. “A Weasley product.”

Crabbe and Goyle blinked at Draco stupidly. Draco rolled his eyes.

“They have their own store now- a stupid, joke shop,” he scoffed. “It’s ghastly, filled with the worst inventions.” Crabbe and Goyle quickly nodded in agreement.

“It’s quite nice,” the boy said timidly. “And this one’s b-brilliant you know, once you throw a bit in the air, everything goes pitch black.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. Perhaps the powder was more useful than the gimmicks he’d come to expect from the Weasleys. “Oh, really? You’ve tried their stuff out before?”

The boy seemed to relax once he picked up on Draco’s mild interest. “Yeah, I’ve bought loads of stuff. Fake wands, Canary Custards (one of their first inventions by the way), Puking Pastilles…” He faltered when Draco’s lips curled into an obvious sneer.

“Well in that case, you won’t mind if I just snatch this from you.”

The boy opened his mouth as if to say that he’d mind very much, but before he could say anything, Draco pocketed the container and turned back towards Pansy and Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle shoved the little boy, who looked as if he wanted to cry, one last time and followed suit.

“What was that all about?” Blaise said quickly once they neared him. He seemed relieved that they were there, and judging by Pansy’s annoyed expression at their interruption, Draco thought he knew why. He’d been forced to listen to Pansy’s rants one too many times himself.

“Nothing special, just nicked some Weasley invention from a pathetic first year.” He didn’t feel like telling them about the powder just yet. Pansy might be too blunt to recognize the value of a bar of gold, but Blaise certainly wasn’t. Even if Crabbe and Goyle noticed Draco’s lie (Draco highly doubted this), they kept silent.

Draco could tell Blaise wanted to push the subject, but Pansy interrupted nastily, “Ooh, the Weasleys. As if their family wasn’t shamed enough- now, those twins have gone and opened a joke shop.”

“Yes, you’d think that they might have wanted to stay in school and get a real career, considering they grew up in a pigsty,” Blaise said.

Pansy giggled shrilly and Blaise’s regular smirk seemed to grow even more pronounced. Draco frowned; it wasn’t even that funny.

“Their only useful invention was those ridiculous Headless Hats,” Pansy snorted. “At least that way, they could hide that horrid mop of carrot hair anytime they wanted.” She giggled again, clearly thinking she had made a wildly witty comment.

At the mention of the Weasleys’ hair, Draco’s thoughts went back to his last visit to Flourish and Blotts. The Baby Weasel’s furious face stuck out clear in his memory. Her round face had matched the colour of her carrot hair that day; she was just as amusing to annoy as her brother. 'But,' Draco found himself reflecting, 'it wasn’t so much carrot-like, was it? ...more like a copper colour…quite nice, actually…'

“Draco!” His mother’s silky voice rang out amidst the bustle of the crowd.

“I’ll see you guys on the train,” Draco muttered to his friends. He spotted his mother’s silver hair separate from the clump of people that were making their way onto the train. He made his way towards her. Once he reached her, she quickly pulled him behind a nearby pillar, his trunk bewitched to float behind her. Behind the pillar, she waited for passing strangers to walk by, and then stared intently at her son.

“What’s this for?” Draco asked, feeling nervous. He looked over his mother’s shoulder. Most students were now done boarding the train.

“We can’t talk in front of all those people. They already pay us enough attention.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

She raised an eyebrow as if it was obvious. “I know you’ve been planning something, Draco. You don’t fool me.”

Draco instantly paled. She couldn’t know…if Borgin had said something…Draco’d kill him. “What are you talking about?” he finally said calmly.

“I don’t know what it is,” -Draco’s heart rate slowed slightly- “but I know you. And as someone who cares about you, I am telling you, don’t bother. I have figured it all out for you.”

Draco’s indignation at being told what to do was overshadowed by his curiosity at his mother’s last statement. “What do you mean ‘figured it all out’? What did you do?!”

“Nothing,” Narcissa said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve arranged for Professor Snape-”

“WHAT?” Draco backed away. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I don’t need any help,” he spat.

“Draco! Keep your voice down.”

“Stop meddling in my affairs,” Draco hissed. He did not care that he was being rude.

“All I am doing is looking out for your safety! Professor Snape is much older and much wiser than you. He knows of branches of magic that you couldn’t even dream of. He can help you! Dumbledore trusts him enough to be in the Order of the Phoenix- that old fool doesn’t suspect a thing. All the while, Severus is still in close contact with the Dark Lord. Already in the past have the two planned the demise of Harry Potter and Dumbledore. Don’t you see? He is the perfect tool, Draco. This way, you won’t have to get hurt!”

“I don’t care!” Draco yelled. Several students looked around for the source of the sudden outburst, but Draco didn’t notice. “Why are you so sure that I’ll get hurt? Why is everyone so sure that I’ll fail? Aunt Bella was there; she was there the night the Dark Lord announced he wanted to give me a mission. He trusted no one else with this task. I’m to kill Dumbledore. I won’t be pushed around by some silly school teacher.”

Narcissa’s eyes flashed. “How can you say that? Professor Snape has helped this family countless times. You need him, Draco, now more than ever. You are much too young, much too inexperienced! You have no understanding of what you are trying to undertake. We are talking about Dumbledore, the only wizard the Dark Lord has ever feared.” Narcissa spoke all this in a strangled voice and seemed on the verge of tears.

Draco was tired of arguing with his mother about her lack of belief in him; it was getting nowhere. He changed strategies. “How do you even know Professor Snape will help? How can you be so sure that he’s willing to risk his position as Dumbledore’s right wing man, to help me?”

“Do not worry. I have taken care of that,” she said tightly.

“What does that mean, ‘taken care’-”

“It means,” she said, more forcefully this time, “that you need not worry where Severus’ loyalties lie, for I have ensured that they lie with you. It’s not up to him anymore; he must help you. Draco, I am urging you, do not be foolish. Trust Severus. I may not know of your plans, but I know Severus will make sure that you are not in harm’s way. This is not a game; remember who we are dealing with.”

Draco realized his mother’s mind was set. There was no use in arguing. She gazed back at him with an almost adamant intensity that he didn’t recognize. The two stood in silence for a few more moments. Then, coldly, he nodded. “Fine.”

Narcissa smiled thinly, seemingly with relief. She cupped his cheek and raised her lips to his forehead. “Be careful,” she whispered.

Draco nodded again and forced a small smile.

Narcissa flicked her wand twice. The trunk fell to the ground but strangely, made no sound. Draco lifted it and was glad to note that it weighed no more than a feather.

He looked at his mother one last time before turning around and heading towards the train. She looked so much older than she used to. Webs of fine lines and wrinkles framed her mouth and eyes. But, more than that, it was the constant tiredness in her eyes that made her seem much older than her years. But, Draco thought, feeling slightly happier, he would put an end to his mother’s worries. He was the youngest to ever have been presented with the honour of being a Death Eater. He’d be the only one, including the Dark Lord himself, to ever come close to harming Dumbledore. He would make sure of it.