The Other Boy Who Lived

As Dumbledore fell forward, Draco let out a scream as he quickly backed away. He stood there staring at the corpse in his room stunned and speechless.

"Is Dumbledore really . . . dead?" he asked himself.

Just ten minutes ago, he was just about to tell him something urgent. Now, here he is lying on the carpet, motionless. Draco apprehensively moved closer to examine him. Dumbledore's great blue eyes were still opened. Draco checked to see if there was any heartbeat or pulse. There was neither. The knife had dug deep into his back, right into his heart. Dumbledore was, indeed, dead. With his hand, he closed Dumbledore's eyes.

"Oh, how Father has waited for this day to come! Wait till he hears about this!" he said to himself.

Draco smiled maliciously. Suddenly he remembered Dumbledore's purpose of coming here.

"Bloody hell. Dumbledore was supposed to tell me something, wasn't he? Why did he have to die now?" he groaned.

"Well, I might as well tell Father and Mother about this," he thought as he sighed.

He walked out of his room, with his bewitched lamp, to his parents' room down the hallway.

His manor was very elegant and spacious. Everything was of green, white, and black. There were many chandeliers and rooms in his home. He felt so lucky to live in such luxury.

As Draco walked down the hallway, he wondered who would use a muggle's weapon to kill Dumbledore? It seemed really absurd.

Draco knocked on his parents' bedroom door, knowing that his father, Lucius Malfoy, would curse him if he just walked in.

Although Draco and his father shared very uncanny resemblance, their personalities were quite different. Lucius was very unemotional and abusive toward his wife and son. He worked in the Ministry of Magic and was very powerful and wealthy, hence the manor. In addition to being an employee of the Ministry of Magic, Lucius was a Death Eater, who served the infamous wizard, Lord Voldemort. Draco, on the other hand, didn't think very eminently of Lord Voldemort. In fact, he thought of him as a hypocrite - he hated muggle-borns and half bloods, but he was a half-blood himself. Draco followed in his father's steps by also restraining his emotions and pretending to exceedingly respect Lord Voldemort. Another difference was he wasn't as strong as his father was and it vexed Draco.

When there was no answer, he quietly turned the knob to find that his parents weren't in bed. He noticed that the bed was boisterous. Before Draco could make any assumptions on what happened to his parents, he heard a loud high-pitched scream from downstairs.

"Oh no . . . Is that Mother?"

He ran as fast as he could to where the scream was coming from. Behind him, he could hear his house elves getting out of bed to see what was the matter. When he got to the bottom of the marble staircase, he heard nothing but an eerie silence in his manor. The only sound that could be heard was his ragged breathing. Draco thought about calling his inhaler, but decided not to. Strange; he didn't even hear the house elves coming down as he thought they should have. Something was wrong - his subliminal senses told him, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

Draco walked into his kitchen where he thought he heard the scream. The kitchen didn't seem any different, but he chose to walk further into the kitchen, just to be sure. When he took a turn on one of the counters, he dropped his bewitched lamp and stopped dead in his tracks.