Draco Nascent I: Valley of Shadows

Seventeen, sultry, suave, simplistic. All the words I pick for my former self. A prefect, still at Hogwarts, still unmistakably Slytherin. I call Harry the Gryffindor poster boy and he calls me the model Slytherin. Of course I was. I was sly, a sneak, dangerously sweet and dangerously alone. I had my bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle, plus my adoring Slytherin teenage fan club headed by a pug-faced girl named Pansy Parkinson. Pictures of me displayed my trademark sneer echoed by slinking silver eyes, while primed to perfection in my Slytherin green, silver and black naivety. In that year, my sixth year, Harry threw my famous father Lucius Malfoy into Azkaban prison. In that year, Voldemort revealed his return and stuck stronger than ever. Dear Lucius broke out of Azkaban when the Dementors revolted against the Ministry and joined Voldemort. Since the Aurors, between keeping down the growing chaos, kept a rigorous watch on the Manor, he stayed at Voldemort's side and owled instructions to Narcissa Malfoy, my notorious Mother. She passed on what Lucius desired of me in weekly packages sent to Hogwarts from the Manor. <>

At seventeen, my sixth year, the world was at war. That Draco Malfoy had a carefully cultivated and designed appearance to keep up to the Slytherins, to the Malfoy label and to Hogwarts. Everyone knew my calling: I was destined to receive the Dark Mark one day and enter unflinching into the Dark Lord's service. Throughout our youth, my Slytherin class mate's families hinted Voldemort had specially marked me during his first reign just before his fall. I deserved unflinching respect and obedience, because I was expected to impart the same to my two superiors: Lucius and Voldemort.

It came in Narcissa's letter.

Draco,

Your Father sends on the Malfoy Talisman. You will go and present it when required of your presence. He bids you, wear it wisely.

--Narcissa

I wish I could say I felt anything at the reception of Lucius' gift, besides pride that he would trust me with an important family heirloom. Lucius wore the Malfoy Talisman at all times, but usually under his robes when in public. Later, I learned of its true origin and why my family was specifically important in Voldemort's band of warriors. Back then, all that Draco Malfoy saw a special, expensive and rare piece of jewelry that marked when a Malfoy son became a man.

The Talisman was a medallion of sorts. I remember it clearly. Suspended on a silver chain to the center of my chest, the medallion was ringed by a pure silver snake. In the center gleamed an opaque white disk, always cool and soft as moonlight to the touch. A set of silver fangs, as though a rearing snake's mouth, held the disk firmly in place.

Simple but beautiful. Lucius Malfoy had kept it hidden under his robes and seventeen-year-old that Draco followed in suit just like he had been raised.

I digress. Once upon a time, I had a very straight mind. Sharp and sly, because I was a Slytherin. I possessed a pre-programmed agenda and the means of complying with that agenda. Death addles the mind, I suppose, but I like believing I am still as witty and clever as before.

I said twice already this begins with Harry Potter. I'd best damn well begin before I write another circle.

Honestly, those times are vague in my memory. Maybe that's why some people give me odd looks when I can't remember something I said or did in my youth. Like Quidditch. I barely recall playing, or pulling "The Dementor Stunt," as Harry calls it. The only day of my Hogwarts career that truly matters I remember clearly now.

June 16, the day Voldemort attacked Hogwarts. He sent his minion Death Eaters through the secret tunnels before storming through the Forest, the grounds and the lake. Those of my Slytherin classmates eager to join in or impress their loyalty to the parents or Voldemort added to the insipid chaos. Those with intelligence, and an instinct to survive--like me--ran off to hide. Any place, any nook, any cranny--one explosive hex nearly cut off my head as I tried to keep fully intact from dueling the Death Eaters, teachernd students stupid enough not to run. Unfortunately for my over-eager counterparts, Voldemort was not distinguishing from Slytherin to Gryffindor. Goyle was already dead and I had lost Crabbe in the fracas.

As I turned the corridors with my wand at the ready, a raven dropped a note onto the floor before my feet. I picked it up and recognized by Father's sliding handwriting. My heart began to pound, because now I knew he was here.

'The Dark Lord awaits your presence in the Great Hall. Bring the Malfoy Talisman. All will be summoned.'

I remember not knowing what summoned meant (then) but nonetheless, I dropped the note because I quaked in fear of what it could mean. Fear shivered up my spine and pounded into my shivering frail frame as un-Malfoy-like thoughts and emotions sprung from far corners of my being. Yes, my Father was a Death Eater, but I had never actually seen Voldemort before. It seemed my time of service to the Dark Lord had arrived, but I balked at the immensity of their power. I had never faced up to him or my Father. And to have the Dark Mark, chiseled into my flesh, a sign of my eternal servitude, without ever having a choice as though I was a mere instrument, an obedient mindless pet? Was there a way out of this?

"You're not worth it," He said, "Draco, you're a coward."

I can't recall how he left me, just the pressure against my chest and throat vanished and the back of his head turning the corner down the corridor. I don't know where he went or why. But I was left standing there exposed, clawing at the skin of my throat unable to breathe. My entire life was playing out, but the screen, the vision--blank as a slate. I couldn't see anything. Harry wrenched away every ounce of law and logic I had been built up on but there was nothing there.

I wasn't even worth the honor of death. That's what Harry told me in the brief encounter. My life was so empty and meaningless that death could not change that. Draco Malfoy was but an empty egg shell with no promise of hatching into life.

I ran. I took the only thing I knew, my cowardice, and I ran.