Stairway to Heaven

Misty ran a nervous hand through her hair, wishing she could get help from anyone else. Anyone but Davina.

But there was nothing for it. Aspen and Erin had both been sent to Hogsmeade to get Augurey eggs for that night's meal, and the only other girl Misty could ask was Davina.

Davina was never in a very good mood. But she was in a horrible mood in the morning.

Misty took a hopeful breath and knocked lightly on Davina's door, telling herself that she feared no one.

No one answered.

Misty knocked harder.

Still no one.

Misty practically flung herself at the door, pounding with all her might.

This time, the door burst open, revealing a very angry, very messy-haired Davina, looking ready to throw knives at whomever had interrupted her sleep.

Davina's glare worsened as she recognized Misty.

"What do you want?" she muttered coldly.

"I need your--" Misty couldn't say it. She just couldn't ask this girl for help.

Davina tapped her foot impatiently and Misty gave in.

"--help. I need your help."

Davina's lip curled into a smug smile. "What do you need?"

"I have something to deliver to Sir Lucius, from my father. But I don't know where his office is..." Misty trailed off, looking hopefully at Davina.

"What makes you think," Davina snarled, "that Sir Lucius is going to accept you into his office graciously at 6 o'clock in the morning, just because your poor, pathetic father sent him a note?" She was eyeing the rumpled parchment clutched tightly in Misty's hands, whose rather messy wax seal was conspicuously missing the stamp of the Tewdwr crest.

"My father is not poor and pathetic. He was the Brenin of Wales!" Misty said, through gritted teeth.

"He was. Notice the past tense. And he only got that far because of his friends--there was nothing good about him. He fed off other people's power--the Dark Lord's power--in order to make the Tewdwr family the leading family of Wales. Or, as you call it, the Brenin." Davina spat the word out mockingly.

"The Brenin holds a lot more power in Wales than your pitiful Ministry of Magic does here," Misty muttered back.

"Sour over losing you riches, are you? I bet you just loved it when your family--the beloved Tewdwrs--were the Brenin in Wales. You just soaked up all that attention like a sponge soaks up water."

"What do you know about--about anything!" Misty screeched at her. It wasn't fair. Davina knew nothing of the Tewdwr's suffering now. Their humiliation. All the dignity they had lost when the lost the title of Brenin.

"I do know one thing," Davina whispered. "The people of Wales finally did something right when they overthrew your family from being Brenin. They finally opened their eyes and realized that your father was only getting his power from the Dark Lord, and that he was really an ignorant, sputtering fool."

Misty couldn't take it anymore. This insolent girl had no right to say such things. After all, what did Davina know about being Brenin? Absolutely nothing.

Misty raised her hand and slapped Davina squarely across the face. Davina looked very surprised for a moment, blinking vaguely, before becoming quite angry and slamming the door in Misty's face.

Misty turned and raced down the hall, passing her room, and stopping when she reached the top of the stairs. She sat down on the highest stair and leaned against the wall, staring at the parchment in her hands. She had to deliver the note to Lucius--her father had sounded quite serious when he mentioned punishment in that letter. But there was no way she could deliver it to him without someone's help, and Davina certainly wasn't cooperating.

"Will anyone help me?!" she cried out in frustration.

To Misty's surprise, and vast amazement, a little person appeared on the step below her.

"Good morning, Miss. What may I help you with?" the person squawked in a high voice.

Misty looked closer and realized it wasn't a person at all. It was a short, skinny, floppy-eared house elf, wearing a dirty washrag as a loincloth.

Misty had had house elves serving her when her family was Brenin in Wales. They were very ignorant, but highly submissive little creatures, with a will to assist in everything. She wasn't surprised that Mr. Malfoy had them employed.

Misty couldn't have been happier to see this one.

"I have a note to deliver to Mr. Lucius Malfoy. Can you take me to his office? Is he even in his office?" Misty explained.

"Sir Lucius is having breakfast in his study with Master Draco and Master Alaric. Shall Riffy take you to them?" the house elf replied.

Master Draco? Master Alaric? Misty knew those names like she knew her own. Draco Malfoy...he had always come with his father to visit the Welsh Brenin family. He was her own age, and they had grown up fast friends, whispering excitedly about how they both wanted to be just like their fathers, rich and Death-Eaters. And Alaric...Draco's adorable baby brother, rather snobbish-looking, but very playful.

But Misty had stopped whispering with Draco, and holding Alaric, when the Tewdwr family lost their Brenin title. The riches had gone with the title, and all that was left was a powerless Death-Eater family, defeated with the Dark Lord.

Now, Misty's heart leapt at the idea of seeing Draco and Alaric again.

Misty glanced at the house elf, and almost smiled. But then she checked herself, and said placidly, "Yes, Riffy, take me too them, please."

The little creature turned off down the stairs, leading Misty down into the main servants' hall. The dining room where all the servants ate dinner was on the left, and the kitchen where the Malfoy's meals were prepared was on the right.

Riffy strode straight past them, stopping instead before a tall, winding spiral staircase. This was the way upstairs.

Misty walked slowly behind the hopping elf. Usually, she climbed this staircase to go upstairs and perform her day's duties. Today, she walked up to have an audience with Lucius Malfoy--to speak with him--and she felt as if she were his equal.

Misty stepped onto the first floor, into the parlor of Malfoy Manor, and the air seemed to smell differently. The black floor was so clean that it sparkled, and the thick stone walls glistened dust-free, illuminated by the mounted torches' glowing green flames.

All this cleanliness had come from the servants' toil.

Misty followed Riffy down a small corridor to the left. It was dark, gloomy, and decidedly less clean then the parlor of the house. This was because no servants were allowed down this corridor, not even to clean.

Misty's heart beat faster as she peered closely at the walls, memorizing every block of stone. She would have to tell everything to the other servants--what she had seen, smelled, and heard. She wanted to remember everything.

Riffy led Misty to the end of the hallway, where a single wooden door stood.

One door? There was only one door down this highly secretive hallway? All this protection for one door?!

"This," Riffy squeaked, "is Sir Lucius' office. Please wait while I announce you."

Riffy disappeared through the wooden door.

Sir Lucius' office. Of course. This was the place where all his secret papers were kept--all his Death Eater business--and he couldn't have the servants snooping around in his private office. Misty's palms began to sweat as she waited to enter the room that no servant had seen before.

Riffy reappeared, looking important. "Sir Lucius will see you now."

Misty walked slowly through the door, trying to look poised, beautiful, reserved...all the things her mother was. Misty was quite pretty, but she was nervous and jumpy, and she found it hard to look reserved. Especially since she was wearing a maid's uniform.

But for this meeting with Sir Lucius, she was an equal. She was the daughter of a Death Eater. Her family was the past Brenin of Wales. She had a very respectable history, in Lucius Malfoy's eyes, and for these few minutes, she would be able to talk with him like an equal.

Misty felt cold, clear air brush her face as she stepped into the unfamiliar room. She noticed at once that the large window was open, but thick black curtains blocked the sunlight. There was a very untidy desk in the corner. Bookshelves lined the walls, stacked with titles like A History of the Dark Arts and The Rise of Terror: Salazar Slytherin's Immortal Tale. Large black leather chairs were placed before a large stone fireplace, and a tiny table in the center of the room was set for breakfast. Three platinum blond figures were seated around it.

One was obviously the eldest. He wasn't old, but wrinkles from worry and work stood out on his tired face. His mouth was permanently set in a position halfway between a smirk and a scowl. He looked on the edge of anger, but sat cool and composed in his seat. Lucius Malfoy.

On his right sat Draco. Misty could tell, even though he was sitting down, that he was tall. His arms and torso were lean but muscular. His face was slightly amused, but other than that, expressionless--and his eyes were as cold and hard as diamonds. His white hair was fairly long, just reaching his ears. His face was angular and thin, but there was a very strong, stubborn manner about him.

Last, on Lucius' left, was a tiny boy whose feet didn't reach the ground from where he sat on his high-backed chair. He was actually smiling as the cold air caused red spots to form high on his pale cheeks. He looked up at Misty with eyes like the clouds on an overcast day--but Misty could see the sun lurking behind them. He was thin and tiny, but knowledge and wisdom were written into his sharp brow and tiny mouth. This could only be Alaric Malfoy.

Lucius looked up from his toast. "You must be Miss Tewdwr," he said, without preamble.

Misty nodded slightly. "Yes, sir."

"I believe you have something for me."

Misty almost--almost--blushed at her slow reaction. Lucius Malfoy obviously got business done before small talk. If he ever talked small talk anyhow. She stepped forward awkwardly and handed him the crumpled parchment.

He slipped it into the pocket of his robes gracefully. Misty wished he would read it then, but the creamy parchment had already disappeared into the silk lining.

"Miss Tewdwr--or Misty, is it now? Intriguing name, intriguing...How are you liking it at Malfoy Manor?" Lucius said. He wasn't talking politely, or kindly. He was stirring his tea disinterestedly, looking as though he meant only to torture Misty by making her stay longer in the uncomfortable spotlight of the room.

"You have a wonderful home, sir," Misty replied, not quite answering the question. She didn't want to admit how miserable she was.

"You do not like it here," he said, and Misty jumped, startled. How did he know? His cold eyes stared her down, and she realized that she was acting weak. He must be reading the fear in her eyes.

Misty stood taller and forced herself to act as the equal that she was for these minutes. "I told you, sir, it is lovely."

Misty wished, for a moment, that Lucius would ask her to sit down. He would ask a friend to sit down. And wasn't that what she was, while she was delivering this letter? After all, the letter was important, and it's deliverer should be treated with respect.

Suddenly, his hard eyes went unfocused. "Won't you sit down, Misty? Join us. Eat something."

Misty was not the only one to look startled. Both Draco and Alaric, who had been watching silently up until now, jumped and stared at their father.

Misty thanked Lucius and sat down between Draco and Alaric at the circular table, across from Lucius.

Lucius shook his head suddenly, and his eyes focused again. He looked confused for the shortest moment, before composing himself again.

He opened his mouth to say something to Misty, when the door opened, and Riffy reappeared.

"What do you want?" Lucius drawled angrily.

Riffy sidled up to him, embarrassed, and handing him a newspaper.

"Ah. The Daily Prophet. Now, get away," Lucius said, taking the Prophet.

Riffy hurried out.

"The Daily Prophet? What's that?" Misty asked Lucius, spurred to new heights of daring by his invitation to sit down.

"You mean you don't know?" Alaric said suddenly and excitedly. "Well, it's the wizarding newspaper here in England. Where are you from anyhow?"

Misty opened her mouth to reply when Draco cut her off. "Alaric, don't be a fool. Don't you remember visiting the Tewdwrs in Wales? Matamach was the Brenin."

"Draco! Speak of your elders with respect--do not use their Christian names," Lucius snapped.

Draco ignored him and took a sip of tea. If Misty had ever ignored her father like that, she would have been punished. She looked at Draco with new interest and admiration.

"We visited you when I was a baby," Alaric said suddenly. "I remember your castle in...Whaley?"

"Wales," Misty corrected quickly. Alaric was smiling broadly, and Misty smiled slightly back. "I held you often, since you were only a baby."

Alaric nodded. "And you and Draco played games, and we hid in the house, and--"

"Shut up, Alaric," Draco mumbled. Misty could hardly believe that he looked slightly embarrassed. She almost laughed, but stopped herself.

Suddenly Lucius, who had been silently reading the Daily Prophet, sighed and threw the paper onto the table, splashing tea onto the white tablecloth.

"What is it, Father?" Draco asked. Lucius pushed the newspaper to his son.

Draco picked it up, and Misty craned her neck to read over his shoulder.

HARRY POTTER AND FRIENDS YOUNGEST AURORS IN CENTURY

We all know Mr. Harry Potter (18) and his friends Hermione Granger (18) and Ron Weasley (also 18). They famously defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort just two years ago, while they were still in their sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now, they have graduated, and Minister of Magic Arthur Weasley has given them all Auror licenses.

"I think I speak for everyone when I say that they have more than earned it," Mr. Weasley said yesterday. "And they all expressed wishes to have this career in life. Who can think of any better candidates?"

Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger all got the required O.W.L.'s, and over the minimum of five N.E.W.T.'s (Miss Granger got a record-breaking twenty-five), so they are qualified to become Auror's. They already have their licenses, but they will still be sent to Auror training camp in Glencoe this November.

Some wizards are confused as to what Aurors are needed for now that Voldemort has been defeated. But many Dark wizards survived his downfall, and though they are in hiding, they shall return. It is important that none forget to be on their guard.

When asked what their goals are during their Auror careers, Miss Granger replied, "We know that Voldemort is gone, but many of his followers are still out there unchained. We plan to put a stop to the Death Eaters and all societies like them."

Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, and Miss Granger, only a year out of wizarding school, are the youngest Aurors in this last century. Only Leonard "The Brain" Yorri, who graduated from Beauxbatons at the age of nine and became an Auror at ten years old in 1892, dwarfs them.

Draco scoffed at the page. "Glorious Potter and his sidekicks, always finding ways to make the front page."

Lucius glared at his tea. "It's bad enough that this community elected that Muggle-lover Weasley as Minister of Magic after Fudge was impeached. Now we have to deal with Potter, as he tries to play the hero again."

Misty had heard of Harry Potter--everyone had. Most Death Eaters were bitter about him. But Misty's family was especially hostile toward him.

He had, after all, caused Voldemort's downfall, and thus, their own.

Misty stood from the table abruptly, trying to mask the anger in her eyes.

"Thank you, sir. I had a very...enjoyable time. Pob hwyl." She curtsied clumsily.

"Pob what?" Draco asked, curious for a moment.

"Pob hwyl. It means 'goodbye' in Welsh," Misty explained.

"Well, pob hwyl, Myfanwy," Alaric said. Misty practically shuddered at his pronunciation of both the words and her name, but his grin was sincere. She smiled back, nodded at Lucius, and backed out the door.

She saw the article from The Daily Prophet swimming before her eyes as she followed Riffy back down the hallway. What did Harry Potter think the Death Eaters were planning? Her mind wandered to the note she had just delivered. What was going on?