Draco Malfoy, Boy Who Turned Against His Own Father

Draco Malfoy, Boy Who Turned Against His Own Father

Chapter 1: The Malfoy Manor

The portrait of his great-great-grandmother yelled at him as he stepped into the Manor.

'TRAITOR! FILTHY SCUM! ROTTEN PUTRID BLOOD! HOW DARE YOU STEP INTO THIS PLACE!'

She went on and on, her usually raspy voice turning high-pitched and out of tune, as if someone had scratched steel-like fingernails on a blackboard. His great-great-grandfather, whose portrait was hung next to her, merely glanced at him. Draco tried to look defiantly at his great-great-grandfather, but failed, feeling small and insignificant when his great-great-grandfather gave him a short yet steely glare. As he walked past the hallway, he could feel the portraits and paintings stare angrily at him, cursing and swearing at him. He walked faster and faster, trying to avoid looking at the rooms, which were in huge messes, caused by the search the Aurors carried out just a few days before. But Draco stopped when he arrived at the entrance to the drawing room. Touching the dark oak doors, he pushed them open without much effort.

The drawing room was almost stripped bare. The bookshelves, which used to be full of books - mostly about dark arts - were tore down and taken away for examination. A stone statue of Salazar Slytherin that once stood proudly by the room entrance was now broken into pieces when the fight between Harry Potter and Voldemort had happened. Only the left hand of Slytherin was still in its original shape, surprisingly, considered what had happened. Draco reached into his robe for his wand, wanting to repair the statue, but decided against it. The statue would only remind him of what he did not want to remember. A dark mahogany table used to stand in the centre of the room, with a grand chair to match it. It had belonged to Lucius Malfoy, his father, but was now taken as criminal evidence. Remember, Draco, that a Malfoy will always be a Malfoy. That was what his father used to tell him. Malfoys will always be purebloods, always powerful, and always better than the rest of the world. It was not true now, not with Draco. He was still a pureblood, but his blood was tainted and poisoned by evil. Powerful is certainly something he was not. Draco knows that not only was he not better than the rest of the world, he was probably worse than the rest of the world. Sure, he was better than Voldemort, but Voldemort was dead, and did not count. The only thing that remained the same with him was that he was still a Malfoy.

Draco looked around the room, and his eyes widen with surprise at the sight of the secret trapdoor. He had seen the trapdoor before, even ventured down to where the dungeons were, so it was not the trapdoor itself that surprised him. It was the sword hanging on the wall near it. Wondering why the Aurors did not confiscate it, Draco stepped towards it. Then, he suddenly remembered why. The sword is enchanted as to only people with the Malfoy blood would be able to remove it. Without knowing it himself, his fingers had wrapped themselves around the sword's hilt. Draco looked down at his hands for a while, before he slowly lifted the sword up. Staring at the gleaming blade, Draco was not sure what he should do. Should he take it? It belonged to the Malfoys, but it was also a dark weapon. He knew the answer, when he found himself ripping off part of the velvet curtain in the room and wrapped it around the sword. Making sure that the thick velvet bound the sword tightly; Draco took it and left the drawing room. He made sure that he closed the drawing room doors close, before walking towards the stairway down the hall, up to his room.

He was packing his belongings into the trunk he brought along with him, when he heard a small voice behind him.

'Is Young Master Malfoy needing help with packing?' asked Greyer, a house elf with dark grey eyes.

Draco smiled at him. 'No, Greyer, I'm fine. And don't call me Young Master Malfoy. It's Draco.'

The young house elf looked at him, wearing an expression that showed he was feeling uneasy. 'Yes... Draco. Sir," he added, apparently unsure.

Draco went back to packing, and put the velvet wrapped sword on top of the pile. He shut the trunk with a loud, sounding 'snap', before leaving his room. But before he did that, he looked longingly at his bedroom. He had, after all, been staying in the room for as long as he could remember. His eyes came across a photo frame, where a 6-year-old Draco waved happily with his left hand, holding a broom with his right, with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy behind him. He took it without thinking, stuffing it into his robes pocket.

'Is Sir leaving?' asked Greyer, who had been silently watching him.

Draco nodded without saying a word.

Greyer frowned. 'What is Greyer do if Sir is leaving?'

Taking out a handful of Galleons, Draco gave them to the house elf. 'Buy some clothes for yourself, Greyer. Spend the money on anything you like, and stop working.'

'Is Master sack Greyer?' the house elf asked, forgetting that he was not to call Draco 'Master'.

'No, I'm not sacking you. I'm offering you freedom.'

'Then Greyer is not taking Sir's money. Greyer is wanting to work for himself. No charity,' said Greyer in a determined voice.

Draco was a little taken aback. But he recovered quickly, and said, 'Then go to Hogwarts, Greyer. Dumbledore will pay you well.'

'Yes, Sir,' said Greyer, smiling up at him. 'Good luck, Sir.'

Draco thanked the little house elf, before he left his room. When he walked past his parents' bedroom on the way to the stairway, he heard a soft humming. He stopped, putting his trunk down. Slowly, and cautiously, he stepped into the room. The room was eerily dark, with the curtains drawn completely over the windows. In the quiet darkness, he heard the humming again.

'Who's there?' asked a sharp, female voice. The voice turned feminine and soft as it asked, 'Is that you, Lucius?'

Draco recognized the voice. 'Mother?'

Something, or rather, someone suddenly grabbed him, hugging him tightly. 'Oh, it really is you, Lucius! I thought you were gone!'

'Mother... it's me, Draco.'

But it seemed like she did not hear him, as she continued, 'Oh, Lucius! I thought you were captured! Silly me. I should know that you would not get caught. You're so smart.'

Draco suddenly realized that his mother was not sane anymore. 'Mother...'

'I had a nightmare, Lucius dear. I dreamt that our darling Draco betrayed us and that the Ministry took you away. It was horrible! Wait till our son hears this! He'll laugh at me!' Narcissa Malfoy laughed, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.

'Mother, please...' His voice was desperate now.

'Oh, Lucius, promise me you'll never leave me. I know it's silly; it was just a dream. But promise me, Lucius. Promise you'll never leave me no matter what.'

Tears now flowed down Draco's pale cheeks. Suddenly, his mother pushed him away. Draco fell back onto the ground, looking at her.

'You're not Lucius!! What do you want?'

'It's me, Mother. It's your son, Draco.' He stood up, trying to touch her hands.

'Draco... Don't touch me!' she snapped, slapping his hands away. 'How dare you come back here after what you've done! How dare you!! How could you do this? How?' She began sobbing, her shoulders heaving up and down.

'Listen to me, please, Mother,' begged Draco, crying.

'What did we do wrong? What did I do wrong? How can you treat us like this? You can't be our son... Wait, I know what happened. You're an impostor!! You're not my son! I knew my baby would not do this to me... I knew that it couldn't have been my darling Draco...' She went on and on, muttering to herself.

Choking back tears, Draco muttered softly, 'I'm sorry, Mother. I love you.' Then, he left the room and went downstairs.

He did not hear the portraits and paintings on the wall cursing him furiously, or the angry mutters and whispers, or his great-great-grandmother's hysterical yells. All he could hear was his mother's voice, calling out for his father. As he closed the door behind him, he closed his past with it. Silently crying, he walked out from behind the gates that guarded the Malfoy Manor. Everything that he had known, everything that he had done in the Manor stayed behind the gates, and away from him.