The Letter

The Letter  By Hera White

A single great white owl flew over the mountainside, clutching a small scroll in his beak. He descended over the treetops, and guided himself purposely to his destination. A winding dirt road appeared beneath him, slicing through acres of forest before stopping at a great manor built in the heart of nowhere.

At first glance, the manor appeared to be from the Victorian era, it’s tall, ornate spires reaching towards the stars while the stained glass dulled the moonlight. Upon further inspection, however, it could be seen that the structure had been standing for far longer then it’s architectural style hinted at. An abandoned servant’s hut showed that at least some parts of the property were seeing their 600^th year. The owl swooped into the open window of one of the spires, where a pale and sickly looking servant hastily retrieved the scroll.

Somewhere in the dark corridors of the manor, a door slammed.

"I don’t believe you. How in the world could you just send him back to that…that…school," spat a woman’s voice. "He’s not safe there, and you know it."

"M’dear, would it not have seemed a bit odd if he had not returned? Wouldn’t you think that someone might suspect?" shot the heated voice of man from the corner of the room.

"Of course they’d suspect, Lucius! Not that it matters, I’m quite sure they suspect enough already," said the woman icily. She stepped into the candlelight to reveal her pale features. Her long, silky hair would be the color of snow if not for that faint golden tint to it. Those steel blue eyes could make any man snap to her whim, except of course, for the man standing in front of her. She looked remarkably young and quite beautiful for her age, even with her high cheekbones and the scowl that was constantly fixed to her face. "You surely have not helped our reputation, prancing around the Ministry trying to abolish Arthur Weasley’s Muggle Protection Act."

"It is a matter of honour, Narcissa. It is ridiculous to even think that such a law-"

"When you are outvoted twelve to one, my dear, that is when you hang your honour out to dry. You made an idiot of this family’s name with your persistence in that endeavor. ’Lest not forget how many times you’ve directly interfered with Dumbledore’s power at that school. It is a wonder that the Ministry isn’t knocking down our door by now to drag you off to Azkaban."

"It helps when you are so generous to a cause," said Lucius Malfoy in an oily voice, trying to contain his anger.

"Perhaps it would be better for the family if they did drag you off to that island. Pity the Dementors would only have such a short time to toy with you before the Dark Lord calls on their service."

Lucius roared and stalked into the middle of the room, "Now see here, I have been a loyal follower of the Lord. Who else has the power, the money or the brains to cripple the Ministry from within? I have served him faithfully, preparing for years for his rebirth!"

A faint smile pressed upon Narcissa’s features. "Ah, so you say, Lucius. But where you not afraid, afraid that the toil would be for nothing?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You feared that he might never return, and what did you do to ensure his arrival?" she asked, pacing her husband. "Nothing. You took the easy route, seeking revenge on the boy whom you thought had ruined your plans. You did not have the courage to seek the Dark One himself, to come to his aid." 

Lucius watched her carefully as she walked past him and towards the window. Those cold grey eyes were fixated upon her slim figure, as if trying to compress an indeterminable amount of anger and hatred upon it.

She turned, a hand resting upon the windowsill, and their blue eyes locked. "No, Lucius. You are not a loyal follower," Her voice quivered and broke into rage, "You are nothing but a pitiless servant, too cowardly to move from your cushy position. You fear what you cannot control! You’re a headless chicken, unable to complete the slightest task without–"

She had gone too far and had stumbled upon a truth. A truth that set off his temper like nothing she had ever seen before. Lucius lunged for her, his hands enclosing on her fragile white neck. She choked and dove into her robes, producing an ebony wand and kicking furiously at him.

There was a knock at the door. The sickly looking servant wandered in, keeping his eyes to the ground, not daring to look up at the sight before him. Lucius removed his hands from his wife’s neck, and Narcissa’s wand found its way back into the folds of her robes. The servant placed the scroll on the table beside them, bowed politely and then exited just as quietly as he had entered.

The Malfoys stared for a long time at the scroll before them. Finally, Narcissa nodded.

"It is Draco," she said simply. Lucius picked up the piece of parchment and unfolded it, confirming his wife’s assessment. That little piece of parchment symbolized the only two reasons for why the couple had stayed together for so long. Embodied in the ink were the reasons why neither one of them had died suddenly in their sleep in the eighteen long years since they had been married. Lucius handed the paper to his wife, his upper lip curving into a smile.

Dear Mother and Father,

It read.

                        It has begun. He is here.