The First Year

Chapter Two

A Blind Servant and His Hyperactive Master

*General POV*

Draco stepped into the Great Hall. He could tell that the room was huge because he could hear the echo of his steps as Snape led him forward.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy, welcome to Hogwarts. I'm Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster," an old and gentle voice said from somewhere in front of him.

"Thank you, Sir." Draco bowed slightly to show his respect. He had heard stories about Dumbledore. He was a kind hearted man who did what he had to protect innocent people from Voldemort.

Draco had studied the Daily Prophet in secret from his father and learned that Dumbledore was against the whole Servant arrangement. A four-year-old boy had been shocked that the old wizard, his father was always defaming, thought the same way his father did about the issue.

That was the trigger for making him to respect the Headmaster.

"Severus, I believe it is time to introduce Draco to his new friend, don't you think?"

"Come on, Mr Malfoy."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but could I do one thing first?"

There was a pause before Snape cleared his throat. "Of course, Mr Malfoy."

Draco could feel the keen eyes on his professors as they observed him. Not many people had the chance to see the spell cast. Only people who could not see were able to perform the spell and blind people usually preferred to live in solitude.

He drew his wand from his pocket and muttered something under his breath. He stood unmoving and eyes closed for a few minutes before pocketing his wand again.

He turned to face the Headmaster. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Headmaster."

"Likewise, Mr Malfoy."

Draco bowed once more before following Snape out of the Great Hall.

*

A sixth year Ravenclaw, Michael Yorkin, was sitting in his room, which would soon belong to both him and his Servant. Michael was anxious to meet Draco Malfoy, the boy whose picture had been published so often in the Daily Prophet. He would arrive any moment now.

Michael sat in front of the fire, staring at the flames. What would the boy be like?

A knock on the door woke him from his thinking. Briskly he opened the door. "Sir." Michael let Professor Snape and Malfoy in.

"This will be your room Mr Malfoy." Snape glanced at Michael. "I take it you will help him from now on. If you have any problems or questions, you know where to find me." With that Snape walked out, leaving the two young men alone.

"Hello, I'm Michael Yorkin," he introduced himself.

Draco turned towards his voice, offering his hand. "Draco Malfoy. Nice to meat you, Mr Yorkin."

Michael shook his hand, smiling kindly. "Just between you and me, call me Michael."

Malfoy smiled back, relaxing a bit. "Of course, Michael."

"We have a lot to talk about, but let's get you settled first. This is the living room of our quarter," Michael said, walking over the room. "Here is your room and the one next to it is mine. The door on the opposite wall leads to the kitchen. You can find a bathroom in your own room."

Draco went after Michae,l who disappeared inside the room. He cast the spell in the living room before entering the room, which would be his for the next seven years. He used the spell to find his trunk, opening it he started to unpack his things. "Michael, could you tell me about Hogwarts. I have heard a few things from my mother, but she doesn't know much about the practical things anymore."

"Where should I start?" Michael wondered for a moment. "The teachers are strict. You have to do your homework or else . . . " he said playfully, but meaning every word. "Snape is the strictest, but he's my favourite from all the professors. He is definitely the best Potions Master alive. Even he has a softer side which I have seen only once. Did you know that he has a farm of dust bunnies?"

Draco whirled around, his eyes wide. "What? You got to be kidding." He regained his composure, making it sound more like a statement.

"Nope. It's true, but don't tell anyone. I don't want Professor Snape to hear about it."

Draco nodded, returning to put his clothes away into the drawer.

Michael cleared his throat. "Anyway, let's get a few things straight. You know what you are supposed to do in our room as you Duty, don't you? Clean the room, make the bed, obey me, et cetera et cetera."

Draco nodded.

"Good then we don't have to go over all that, but I have one request." Michael held his finger up to demonstrate the point. "Please, could you leave my desk alone when you are cleaning unless I tell you to clean it, okay?"

"Yes, Master."

"Argh! Didn't I already tell you to call me Michael, you dimwit!"

Draco heard from Michael's voice that he was joking. "Yes, Michael." He smiled in return.

"Are you done with your unpacking?"

"Yes." Draco turned completely to face his Master.

Michael jumped up from the bed. "Come on, I'll give you a tour."

"You have seen the Great Hall, right? How about we start from outdoors?" Michael led him up the stairs towards the Entrance Hall. "You got the see the Quidditch pitch."

Draco could have rolled his eyes at Michael words, but he wasn't disappointed when they arrived at the pitch. The spell told him that it was huge. Draco could only imagine what it would have been like to see a Quidditch game. It had to be a fantastic event.

"Splendid, isn't it?" Michael spread his arms wide, enjoying the blowing wind which made his brown shoulder length hair whirl. "By the way, I'm in the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. I play Chaser." He glanced at Draco when he didn't heard a respond. "You certainly don't talk much. Are you shy or is it an attitude problem?"

Draco smiled slightly. "Definitely an attitude problem."

"Ha! That's more like it!" Michael said enthusiastically. "Come on, I'll show you where the Greenhouses are."

They walked over here and there, and the entire time Michael talked non-stop. "Did you know that Professor Sprout is really a man? It is just a rumour, but some boys claim that they have seen her naked! Merlin, what idiots!" Michael exclaimed. "Hey, have you heard about the new broom model? Nimbus 2000? They say it's really great and even the England's international Quidditch team is taking it as their new broom! That's saying something!"

"It's about to get dark, so let's go inside and explore the castle instead," Michael said, putting arm around Draco's shoulder. "What do you say if after our tour we take a nice hot bath and eat a nice meal with delicious chocolate desert, hm?"

"Okay." Draco shrugged.

Michael clapped his shoulder. "Great! It's settled then."

They stepped inside the castle, welcoming the warmth. It had been getting rather chilly after the sun set because of the wind.

"Now, let's have a look at the classrooms, shall we?" Michael led him up the stairs to the second floor. "This is the Transfiguration classroom. The teacher is Professor McGonagall and she is also the Gryffindor head of house. She is a real witch if you get my meaning." Michael winked. "Anyway, do your spell and we are off to the next one."

Draco realised that he indeed hadn't done the spell yet, and took his wand from his pocket.

Michael watched him, tilting his head. "Don't you have to do it every time?"

"No, it becomes permanent once it's cast. My magical signature recognises the places where the spell has been used."

"Yes, of course. I'm such an idiot. My aunt is blind, too, but I've never seen her cast the spell. So I just assumed that she doesn't have to because she almost never leaves the house."

"Your aunt is blind?"

"Yes. That's the reason why I was asked to be your Master. I have seen my aunt only a couple of times, so I don't really know her, but don't tell Professor McGonagall." Michael smirked impishly.

Draco snorted. "I won't."

"Good. I wouldn't want to be on her bad side."

After they were through the upper floors, they made their way towards the dungeons.

"Are you feeling drained yet?"

Draco sighed. "A little. It would be nice if we could continue tomorrow."

"Of course! Then, let's have the meal and that bath I promised." Michael turned around towards the stairs leading to the second floor. "I'll go get us something to eat. Can you make it back to our room on your own?"

"Sure." Draco nodded.

"I'll see you in a bit," Michael said and then he was gone.

Draco didn't know what to think about Michael. He was exactly the opposite what he had expected. He had thought that Michael would be mean and annoying since he got to boss a Slytherin around. Draco shook his head. He wondered how he could have been so naive. He reached their room in no time and lay on the couch to wait.

Fifteen minutes later, Michael stepped through the doorway. Michael quietly put the tray he had been carrying on the table. As quietly as he could, he piled some macaroni and sauce on the plate and did the same with the other one. He decided to change his clothes from the formal school robes to his free-time attire. He walked across the room to his own bedroom, tip-toeing all the way. Wearing a t-shirt and his pyjama pants, he left his shoes under his bed and returned to the living-room. He quietly moved a armchair closer the table and sat cross-legged on it. He turned to look at the sleeping Draco on the couch.

"I'm not asleep, Michael," Draco said as he felt Michael's gaze land upon him.

Michael yelped in surprise. "Good Merlin, you scared me!"

Draco smiled, sitting up. He joined Michael at the table.

"Here." Michael gave him the other plate which was already full.

"I would have--"

"I know. Just this once, okay?"

Draco relented. "Okay."

"So, is there something you want to ask about?" Michael asked, already finishing his meal.

Draco munched the macaroni, swallowing it before asking, "Has there ever been a Slytherin who hasn't been a Servant or a Slytherin whose parents are not Death Eaters?"

"Tricky. Both are possible, but only the other one is impossible. All Slytherins will become Servants no matter what happens. The parents don't have to be Death Eaters, of course not! Where would the Slytherin students come from? Majority of the Slytherins are Half-bloods, but they have to have a Pureblood father." Michael wiped his mouth on a napkin. He lifted the plate away on the side and poured some juice into his glass. "I'm actually really interested in history, so I've done a lot of research on the Duty. I was eager to know what is the real reason why people after the fall of the Dark Lord wanted to enslave all the Death Eater's children because that is what it was, enslavement, wasn't it?"

"I . . . I don't really know. My mother is very hesitant to speak about it," Draco admitted.

"Do you want to know more?" Michael clasped his hands together in excitement.

Draco bit his tongue to prevent from smiling. "Sure."

"Great! Listen carefully. What I've found out this far is that the Mudblood and Half-bloods were, of course, angry at the Dark Lord and his followers for the ideas of the 'pure world'. After the war they wanted some kind of revenge and what would be a better way to do it than make their lives very difficult in society that is ruled by the Mudblood and Half-bloods. There's only few Pureblooded families still out there, so they had little hope at changing the situation." Michael paused. "What would you do, Draco? Would you start a mutiny or would you just play along?"

Draco blinked, taking a breath which he didn't let out for a moment. "I would play along," he said, sighing.

"Right. That is exactly what your parents did ten years ago, Draco." After that, Michael fell silent, taking a sip from his glass. "But nowadays the Duty isn't a slave work anymore. You are a slave, but only in name. Your Duty is to serve society as a human being not as a slave. You only have to clean and obey me. You can defy me, but only if you have a valid reason to do so. There are still people who want the old regulations back. If those regulations were to come back, you would be completely at my mercy. I would be able to do what ever I wanted to you and nobody would lift a finger to stop me. I would be entitled to treat you as a human scum, but then I probably would not be your Master, would I?" Michael titled his head to the side, his voice humourless for the first time in the day. "But we are glad that isn't the case, right?" Michael smiled, revealing his perfectly white teeth.

Draco couldn't do anything, but nod. Michael's words got him hoping that Lord Voldemort would never raise back to power.