The World According to Draco Malfoy

The World According to Draco Malfoy

by Marysia (Nov 2002)

Notes: Apologies for my lousy French, my French-English dictionary has gone astray.

Chapter 2 - Becoming a Slytherin

"Do you really think we'll get into Slytherin, Draco?" Goyle asked, once they had closed the door and sat down.

"Don't call me that!" Draco snapped, feeling irritable. "It's inappropriate."

"Sorry. It's just my Mum was in Hufflepuff, what if I end up in Hufflepuff?"

"We'll all be in Slytherin," Draco answered firmly.

"You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"Okay then." Goyle seemed satisfied with that. "Did your Dad give you money for food?"

Crabbe and Goyle ate incessantly, which was hardly surprising, since they seemed to be growing at a rate of about an inch a month these days, they both towered over Draco.

"Of course he did, but don't think I'm going to let you two eat it all, I know you've got money of your own."

"But you always get more money," Crabbe complained.

"I want to keep some of it, not just waste it all on food."

Draco stared out of the window, wondering where exactly the unplottable Hogwarts was. The fast-passing view had him in a semi-trance when there was a knock on their compartment door. He looked around in annoyance at being brought back to reality; a plump, gormless looking boy stood in the doorway, at least this one was wearing robes rather than Muggle clothing. "What do you want?" Draco snapped.

"Er..." said the boy, looking terrified. "Have you seen a toad?"

Draco looked at him in disgust at his pathetic show of fear. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Neville," the boy croaked.

"Not your first name, you idiot!"

"Longbottom!" the boy squawked, going very pink.

"Well, Longbottom," Draco said the name as if it were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "There are no toads in here, and if I come across one I plan to have Crabbe and Goyle here sit on it and then throw it out the window."

Longbottom gasped in horror as Crabbe and Goyle chortled.

"Now go away!"

The boy fled and Draco turned back to the window. He wondered if he should have been nicer, what if Longbottom was someone his father would want him to be friends with? He really wasn't in the mood to be nice, though, and his father was rarely nice to anyone, even people who were supposed to be his friends, so it was probably fine. It had been fun to see Longbottom scurry off as if Draco were someone to be reckoned with, someone like his father. It was good to know he really could do that, even if he didn't feel all that powerful or intimidating, though he wondered what it would have been like to have invited Longbottom in to sit with them and asked him about himself... Draco scowled, he had suddenly remembered the boy with the green eyes from Madame Malkin's, he must be on this train somewhere. Better to have successfully scared someone off than to have tried to be friendly and been ignored!

Something knocked against Draco's leg and he frowned down at Goyle who was crawling around the floor. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the toad," grunted Goyle from half-way under the seat. "I never sat on a toad before."

"Gross," said Crabbe.

"There's no toad in here," Draco snapped. "Get off the floor."

Goyle sat up. "Can I go look for it then?"

As long as he could remember, Crabbe and Goyle had always done what he told them, it was just the way their friendship worked. Goyle in particular, who really was stupid unlike Crabbe who simply wasn't as clever as Draco, was inclined to check with Draco before doing anything, just to make sure Draco approved.

"If you want," said Draco.

"I'll come too," said Crabbe, and they both lumbered off to try and find the toad before Longbottom did. Draco shook his head, what kind of stupid pet was a slimy toad anyway?

When Crabbe and Goyle came back, sometime later, they were followed by two boys Draco didn't know and Pansy Parkinson.

"No toad," said Goyle glumly as they re-entered.

"Hello, Draco," said Pansy coyly.

"Pansy," said Draco coldly.

"This is Blaise and this is Ernie," she said, favouring the two boys with a smile.

Draco looked at them non-committally, they didn't look too bad. They were wearing new school robes and they didn't look nervous or untidy. "I'm Malfoy," he said. "I presume you have last names."

"Zabini," said Blaise, he was slim and dark-haired and looked Draco over with an intense gaze that left Draco feeling exposed somehow. His voice seemed to have a faint foreign accent to it, but it was hard to tell with only one word to go on.

"MacMillan," said Ernie, he was pudgy and non-descriptly pleasant looking, he stuck out his hand for Draco to shake. "My father goes hunting with your father."

Draco took the hand and shook it briefly, something about MacMillan irritated him but he wasn't sure what. Perhaps it was that his plump, affability seemed false.

Pansy sat herself down next to him. "Have you heard?"

"Heard what?" he asked, shifting himself slightly away from her.

"The third year's are saying that Harry Potter's on the train!" she exclaimed. "He's going to be in our year!"

"Harry Potter?" Draco was momentarily incredulous, but then it made sense. Harry Potter was the same age as they were and obviously he would be going to Hogwarts rather than some other school.

Draco knew all about Harry Potter, everyone did, he was only one of the most famous wizards in the world. Ten years ago, when Draco had been only a baby, Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord and ended the brewing war between those who supported Mudbloods and those who wanted to keep the wizarding world safe from Muggle influence. The Muggle-lovers had won and Harry Potter had been hidden ever since, the Ministry knew where he was but nobody else did except that he was apparently living with Muggle relatives somewhere. Every now and then there would be rumours and stories that someone had passed him in the street or seen him in a shop, everyone knew he was alive and safe, but he was hidden to protect him from the Dark Lord's supporters.

Draco had heard the story of what Harry Potter had done from his father and had never quite been able to figure out how he was supposed to feel about The Boy Who Lived. On the one hand Draco's father seemed to have a great deal of admiration for the Dark Lord and certainly he didn't want Mudbloods polluting the wizarding world, but he also said the war had been terrible and that the Dark Lord had needed to be stopped. Sometimes he said that Harry Potter was the saviour of the wizarding world, though always with an odd twitch of his upper lip and usually only when company was present or about to arrive, and other times he said that Harry Potter was a freak whose parents had been too stupid to save themselves.

Once he had overheard his mother and father fighting and he had clearly heard him shout that Harry Potter was the worst thing that had ever happened to them and that if Voldemort were still around things would be very different. That was one of the very few times Draco had ever heard his father use the Dark Lord's real name.

Draco was glad the Dark Lord wasn't around anymore, it sounded like things had been pretty dangerous back then, people dying and stuff. He also thought that Harry Potter must be quite something if he could defeat the Dark Lord when he was only one year old, even if he hadn't done it on purpose. When he had been younger, he and Crabbe and Goyle had used to play Harry Potter and the Death-Eaters and Draco had always insisted that he play Harry Potter. It would be great to have Harry Potter as your friend, no one would mess with you then. No one would dare.

The trolley came clattering by and Crabbe and Goyle just about crushed Zabini and MacMillan, scrambling to get their money and get out to it.

Pansy made a face at them and stood up. "I think we'll be getting on, then," she said, having no desire to stay and watch Crabbe and Goyle pig out. She left and MacMillan and Zabini turned to follow her.

Zabini paused in the door. "Will you come along, Malfoy?" he asked. Now Draco was certain he could hear an accent, although he was unsure where it came from.

Draco thought about going along with them, he was curious to find out more about Zabini but he had no desire to become one of the boys tagging along after Pansy. "No, thanks," he said politely. "I'll catch up with you later."

Zabini nodded and left.

Draco waited until Crabbe and Goyle had spent all their money, then sauntered out to buy a few sweets himself. He ate them slowly, savouring the sweetness and trying to ignore the muffled grunts of Goyle trying to swallow a Chocolate Frog whole before it stopped jumping. As he ate he thought about Harry Potter.

He wondered if Potter remembered defeating the Dark Lord, wondered if the scar on his forehead would be faint or obvious, wondered if Potter would already know lots of spells. Probably he would, if he was as powerful as all that. He really did want to go down the train and look for him but he was unsure if that would be inappropriate. He wanted Potter to like him, for them to be friends. So he had to make sure he had exactly the right thing to say to him... should he pretend he didn't know who he was? Maybe he should just introduce himself, Potter must have heard of the Malfoys. He tried to dredge up every piece of information he had ever heard about Harry Potter, but there really wasn't that much. The Dark Lord had wanted to kill him for some reason, he had killed his parents when they tried to protect him and then when he had tried to kill Harry Potter the spell had rebounded and destroyed him. One year old Harry Potter, only a little over a month older than Draco had been, had survived with only a lightening bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

Finally, finished with his sweets, Draco gave up trying to figure out what to say and decided just to go and see if it was really true. "Come on, boys," he said to Crabbe and Goyle. "Clean yourself up and let's go find Harry Potter before Parkinson adds him to her collection."

As they made their way down the train it became more and more apparent that it was true, everyone was talking about it, and by the time they reached their destination they even knew just which compartment to open. Draco paused outside the door, trying to calm his nervous excitement. He could hear voices inside, it sounded like they were talking about Quidditch. Confident, he told himself, and for the Gods sake, don't let him see how nervous you are. He slid open the door and stared into the room. It was the green eyed boy from Madame Malkin's in his over-sized clothes and cheap glasses.

Draco stepped forward into the compartment, feeling Crabbe and Goyle pressing in at his back to get a look. This was the world famous Harry Potter? This short, impolite boy who dressed like a homeless Muggle and couldn't even be bothered to comb his hair once in a while?

"Is it true?" Draco said in disbelief. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment." Pulling himself together a bit he realised he could see the infamous scar, half-hidden under the rumpled, dark hair. As the boy fixed him with his brilliantly green eyes Draco remembered why he had wanted to make friends with him when they had first met, something about him grabbed something inside Draco that he didn't really understand. Maybe it was power he thought, Potter must be very powerful. "So it's you, is it?" he asked, even though he knew it was.

True to form, Potter answered with only one word. "Yes."

Draco entertained the thought that maybe Potter's mind had been damaged along with his forehead, but there was nothing dull about the expression in those eyes. "Oh," he said, Potter's eyes left his and he realised he was staring at Crabbe and Goyle. "This is Crabbe and this is Goyle," he said, "and my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

He looked for any recognition of his name from Potter and instead heard a poorly disguised snort of laughter from the other boy in the compartment. Draco looked around and was confronted with a tall, skinny boy with vivid red hair and freckles, he knew immediately who this had to be, the laughter at his name only confirmed it. "Think my name's funny do you?" he spat, outraged that a Weasley was here ruining his attempt to talk to Harry Potter. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children than they can afford." He turned back to Potter, ignoring the look on Weasley's face. Obviously Potter didn't know much about the wizarding world, having been forced to live with Muggles for his own protection, Draco could help him there. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter," he said helpfully. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He held his hand out for Potter to shake only to have it hang there.

Potter fixed him with those cold eyes again and said, "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

Draco felt humiliation burn through him and tinge his cheeks pink as he realised Potter wasn't going to take his hand, he felt like an idiot standing there with it stuck out, and then anger hit him as he realised Potter was implying that he was the wrong sort. That a Weasley was the right sort and he, a Malfoy, was the wrong sort! The anger burned away the sting of rejection and he pulled back his hand, he wanted to hurt someone. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly, trying to hiding his anger and embarrassment by keeping his voice calm. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riff-raff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid and it'll rub off on you." It obviously already had, he thought.

Potter stood up and so did Weasley, whose face was now almost the same colour as his hair. "Say that again," said Potter.

Confident of Crabbe and Goyle at his sides, Draco sneered, "Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?"

"Unless you get out now," said Potter in a challenging tone.

The way his eyes flashed made Draco nervous and if he'd been alone he might well have backed down, but he wasn't alone. He glanced at Crabbe, "But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys?" He saw Crabbe eyeing a pile of sweets on the chair nearby. "We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

He saw Goyle make a move for the sweets and stepped out of his way, it was never a good idea to come between Goyle and chocolate, however before Goyle reached the food all hell broke loose. The Weasley started to move forward but before he could Goyle straightened up and let out the most piercing yell. Draco almost leapt out of his skin, something was dangling from Goyle's hand and he was spinning around trying to shake it off, some sort of animal. Draco glanced around in a panic, expecting more of whatever it was to leap out at them. Goyle shook the animal loose and they all turned and ran from the compartment, almost bowling over a girl as they went down the corridor. They stopped to regroup once they reached the next carriage.

"Are you all right? What was that?" Draco asked Goyle.

In answer Goyle held out his hand, there was blood running down it. "It hurts!" he complained.

"Lemme see," said Crabbe as Draco turned very pale and steadied himself against the wall. He had always hated the sight of blood, it made him feel sick and his own hand throbbed in sympathetic pain.

"Was an animal," said Goyle, as Crabbe probed his hand unhelpfully. "Ow!" Goyle wrenched his hand back and stuck it in his robes.

"Should we go back?" asked Crabbe. They both looked to Draco for guidance as to what to do next.

"The train will probably be there soon, we'll deal with Potter another time," he practically spat the name. Upstart little brat, thought he could talk down to a Malfoy just because he was The Boy Who Lived, thought he knew everything. His father was right, Potter was just a lucky freak of nature with a stupid scar on his head. He'd soon find out life wasn't that easy.

He led Crabbe and Goyle back up the train, seething silently, his face as black as the night outside. If he hadn't been so caught up in his inner rant he would have been pleased to see people stepping out of their way with nervous looks on their faces.

Back in their compartment he swallowed his queasiness and bandaged up Goyle's hand with a handkerchief. Whatever it was that had bit him it had very long teeth, the wound was still bleeding and looked to be quite deep.

"You should go to one of the teachers when we get there," Draco said.

Goyle shrugged and thrust his hand into his pocket.

---------------

As they got off the train Draco's nerves returned, fed by the darkness of the platform and the bustling faceless mass of students. He heard someone shouting for first years and moved towards the voice only to discover it was that monster of a gamekeeper. He bit his lip and tried not to wish too hard that there was someone whose hand he could hold. He missed his mother already. He hung back with Crabbe and Goyle either side of him, wanting to know where exactly they were going before he got there. The path they were travelling was perilously steep and he was afraid the drunken monster had taken them the wrong way. He let Crabbe and Goyle go before him now as they were stumbling dangerously on the slippy path and he didn't want them to knock him over, he had no problem keeping his feet. Then they turned a corner and could suddenly see Hogwarts.

Draco paused and stared across a vast lake the colour of ink to a sprawling castle built on rocky outcrops on the other side. The lights in the many windows twinkled like the stars in the sky around them, making it hard to tell where the castle ended and the sky began. He could make out high turrets and towers and forbidding walls, it looked more like a fortress than a school from here. Or a prison, a prison to keep them all in, away from their homes and their families.

They were being led towards a hoard of tiny boats, bobbing on the lake. They looked very small, indeed each could only seat four people and by the time he, Crabbe and Goyle had boarded one it seemed dangerously low in the water and no one else joined them in it.

Hagrid shouted, "Forward!" and the boats lurched out towards the castle, moving smoothly across the water once they had started. Draco tried to ignore the fact that as far as he knew, none of them could swim, he certainly couldn't. If the boat were to tip over... he dug his nails into his thighs and watched the castle swell in size, towering above them. They seemed to be heading for a cliff, but the boats ahead of them were swallowed by it rather than smashing up against it's rough stone. Draco ducked and felt ivy trail over his neck as their boat followed the others into an underground cavern and finally to a stony dock.

As they marched up the passageway and out onto grass Pansy Parkinson fell back to join them, still being followed by Blaise and Ernie and also accompanied by a girl, at least Draco thought it was a girl. She was nearly as large as Crabbe and had a jaw that could probably crack walnuts unaided.

"What do you want?" he asked Pansy grumpily.

"Now, now, Draco, dear," Pansy giggled. "Be nice."

Draco scowled at her, she was definitely the most annoying person he had ever met.

"Do you know how we're sorted?" she asked. "Into houses I mean? My parents wouldn't tell me, they said it would be a nice surprise."

"Of course I know," said Draco, feeling superior. "Why, worried they'll put you in Hufflepuff?"

Pansy pouted. "Do be a dear and tell us, Draco," she said, peering at him with cow eyes.

"And spoil the surprise? I wouldn't dare," he mocked her.

"Perhaps he does not know, after all," said Zabini.

"I do know!" Draco exclaimed in a loud voice only to find Zabini watching him with amusement. Zabini knew very well that he knew, he was trying to wind him up. Draco narrowed his eyes at the boy, this was exactly what he had to be careful of. Letting his emotions get a hold of him and speaking without thoroughly examining the situation. "I do know," he said more calmly. "And I'm not going to let you trick me into telling you, so don't bother trying. You'll find out soon enough."

Indeed they were at the castle doors now, which had opened up at Hagrid's knock. A tall, stern looking witch dressed in black and green led them on into the castle, up a marble staircase and finally into a small room. All the way there Pansy nagged Draco to tell her how they would be sorted and all the way there he ignored her, refusing to say anything at all.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said the witch, when they were all inside. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses..." she continued talking about how important their House would be and Draco tuned her out, he knew all this already. He examined the room and the children crowded around him, they were all dressed alike now but he found it was not hard to pick out differences. Some robes were clean and new and well fitted, others were second-hand or just badly made or already dirty. The same went for the people, some stood straight as he did, others slouched or slumped, some were clean and tidy and others looked as if they'd spent all day rolling in a field. Most of them were taller than him, which was irritating and made him stand straighter yet, none of them were taller than Goyle. He was definitely the best dressed, though Zabini was close.

The witch left and the room hung silent except for some frizzy haired girl muttering to herself. From the nervous shuffling around him, most of the room had no idea how the sorting was conducted or else they were nervous about which house they would be put into. So they should be, half the room looked like shoo-in's for Hufflepuff. Not that he wasn't a little worried himself, all right a lot worried, but he wasn't going to let it show.

Then his left shoulder was suddenly frozen in place and he yelped in surprise, a ghost was passing through him. Above them streamed a procession of ghosts, one of whom had trailed a foot through Draco's shoulder on the way past, as many as twenty or twenty-five of them. They didn't even glance down as they argued among themselves about someone called Peeves. Then they were noticed, but before the ghosts could say much, the witch had returned to lead them to the Sorting.

They formed into a line, Crabbe and Goyle behind him and Pansy Parkinson in front, and walked through to the Great Hall. The room was lit by the light of thousands of floating candles and the stars of the night sky, which the ceiling was enchanted to replicate. There were hundreds of faces watching them and Draco looked up at the ceiling instead of meeting their eyes, the sky was beautiful. His attention was brought back down to earth when someone started singing, he was only slightly surprised to see that it was the Sorting Hat. It was a rather inane song about the different houses, but when it was done everyone applauded.

The witch, whom Draco thought could at least have introduced herself, as he had no idea who she was, began reading out their names.

Some of the children that were called up were vaguely familiar to him, he had seen some of them at Pansy's party or at other events. The girl who had been trailing Pansy earlier turned out to be called Millicent Bulstrode and was the first person to be sorted into Slytherin. Crabbe and Goyle were both called out before him and sorted into Slytherin, although the hat took a while to decide with Goyle, who looked absolutely terrified that it might say Hufflepuff the whole time he sat there. It was the first time he had ever seen Goyle look scared. A girl called Morag MacDougal was before him and she too was placed in Slytherin, then MacMillan got put in Hufflepuff, which made him smirk, then his name was called.

He slowed his breathing and endeavoured to look composed as he walked slowly up to the stool, as he sat down there was only one thought in his head, firm and demanding, 'Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin!' Before he even felt the hat touch his skin it screamed out, "Slytherin!"

Relief shot through him, and he went to join Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table, trying not to grin too broadly. He had done it, he was a Slytherin.

He clapped Goyle on the shoulder before he sat down next to Crabbe. "See, I told you we'd all be in Slytherin."

Goyle grinned back at him and suddenly the table around them started applauding again, another Slytherin girl. Draco heard Pansy's name called and glanced up to see where she would be put, when the hat called out Slytherin within seconds of being sat on her head he made a face. He was never going to get rid of her now.

When she came over to the table she sat opposite him, in between Millicent Bulstrode and Cynthia Nott. "Shame about poor Ernie," she said. "He'll never live down getting out into Hufflepuff. He was hoping for Gryffindor."

"I wouldn't accept either," Draco answered. "Slytherin's the only house worth bothering with."

"Of course," she replied, "Although I wouldn't mind being in Ravenclaw, I suppose. If I wasn't in Slytherin."

There was a sudden gasp around them and Draco realised Potter's name had been called. He narrowed his eyes as he saw everyone staring and whispering. "Look at them all," he said to Crabbe quietly, annoyed at the attention Potter was getting. "You'd think they'd never seen a midget in glasses before." But he, too, looked up to see what was happening. Potter sat on the stool, looking rather ridiculous with the huge hat hiding most of his face, for a long time. The tension seemed to mount around him and he was gripping the stool as if afraid he might fall off. Draco hoped he got put in Hufflepuff, that would put paid to all this hero nonsense.

"Gryffindor!" the hat yelled and the Gryffindor table erupted in applause and cheering. Two red headed twins, more Weasleys most likely, were shouting, "We got Potter!" as if he was some sort of prize.

The last three were quickly sorted, the Weasley who had laughed at his name went in Gryffindor with Potter and Draco swiftly began to re-evaluate his opinion that Hufflepuff was the worst house, clearly Gryffindor was the current clearing house for misfits and paupers. Last of all, Blaise Zabini was put into Slytherin, and he prowled over and sat down beside Cynthia Nott.

"Well," he said with a strange half smile. "Here we all are."

Draco was about to make a comment when he felt the chill of death brush against him again. He looked to his left and saw the most frightening apparition he had ever set eyes on. The ghost next to him spread an aura of cold without even needing to touch him and it's robes were covered in silvery blood despite the fact there were no visible wounds on him. But it was not the blood that made you shiver, it was the face, the ghost's face was empty somehow, bleak like the fields in late autumn.

"Welcome," the ghost breathed in a voice like the wind echoing through stone, surveying them.

The headmaster began speaking but Draco couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the apparition seated next to him, afraid that if he looked away it might advance closer and somehow swallow him up. It wasn't until the headmaster said, "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" that he turned around in startlement. Around him the hall applauded the headmaster's 'speech'.

"You are Malfoy," the ghost beside him stated and he turned back to face it.

"Y-yes," he stammered, unable to master his voice. This was too much, he wanted to go home; Potter hated him, Pansy was stalking him, the headmaster was insane and there was a ghost sitting next to him that seemed to want to chat. He didn't care anymore that he'd made it into Slytherin. He pushed away from the ghost until he was virtually embedded in Crabbe's side, not that Crabbe had noticed as the meal had now appeared and he could hear the sound of him guzzling it.

"I remember your father," said the ghost.

"Oh," said Draco faintly.

"You should eat now," said the ghost and turned away from him.

Draco watched it carefully out of the corner of his eye as he nibbled at his dinner, wishing the meal could just be over so that he could leave. He made some half-hearted conversation with Zabini and Cynthia Nott but he couldn't really concentrate and Pansy was keeping most of the attention on herself anyway. Draco concentrated on trying to look like he was bored and not particularly hungry. The ghost next to him did not speak to him again.

After what felt like a chilly eternity the last of the food vanished from the plates, at which he heard Goyle grunt in disappointment, and the headmaster got to his feet again. He issued a list of warnings, it seemed like you could barely step foot anywhere without risking immediate death and then announced they would sing the school song.

Draco perked up a little at that, no one had mentioned there was a school song and he was curious to hear it. He liked music although he had little talent for singing, he liked to listen and he played the piano a bit, his mother had insisted he learn some sort of instrument.

Dumbledore flicked his wand and made the words appear above the hall for everyone to see. Draco peered at them with a look of disbelief, this wasn't at all what he had expected, and suddenly the most dreadful cacophony echoed through the room as everyone began to bellow out the words to random tunes. Down the bench he could hear Goyle singing the tune to Three Blind Mice and regularly slipping into the wrong words so the song went, "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy, Warty Mice." Beside him Crabbe, who was completely tone deaf, was singing in a dull monotone. Over the table, with a look of intense concentration and piercingly shrill soprano, Pansy Parkinson was attempting to sing to the tune of O Fortuna from Carmina Burana. He glanced over at Zabini and saw that he wasn't singing either, for a long moment they looked at each other in shared arch bemusement and then Zabini looked away and calmly began to sing, "So teach us things worth knowing..." in perfect tune, to the melody of Frere Jacques. Draco frowned at him, Zabini was kind of annoying too.

The last to finish were the loud, red-headed twins at the Gryffindor table, who were singing some sort of dirge. When it was finally over there was a smattering of applause and the headmaster was wiping away tears. He must be senile, thought Draco. We're all doomed.

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tbc

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