III.1. – Time To Let Go

If You Love Someone, Set Them Free.

STING

Narcissa felt restless and uneasy, and the closer the date came, the worse her mood got. He wasn’t ready. No, he wasn’t. Eleven years, what did that say, eh? He was so small still – Graham’s son, or Marlon’s, were much taller! And he was shy – in her opinion, anyway. And most of all – she hadn’t taught him everything yet that he ought to know, that a mother ought to teach her son before allowing him out in the big, bad world. One more year, or two, and he could be an awesome pianist – his talent would be wasted in that wretched school, it’d melt away… His Latin and French were okay, but his German and Italian were only rudiments, and his –

“Stop worrying, mon ange,” Lucius would say and kiss her, each and every time again. “He’s going to be fine.”

They had had a brief discussion which school Draco was supposed to attend. A very brief one. After all, what were the options? Beauxbatons? Narcissa knew and detested her cousins who had gone there. And the hot climate wouldn’t do her petal any good. He had such sensitive skin. Durmstrang? She had seen the glint of enthusiasm in Lucius’ eyes when he had suggested it, but she wouldn’t have it, and it didn’t take much to convince her husband likewise – their beloved, only child – in that awful place? With this complete bastard Karkaroff in charge of his education? Even Dumbledore was better than that. All right, so they did teach the Dark Arts, but –

“You didn’t learn them in school either, mon amour, and look how far you’ve come still. You can teach Draco much better than these cretins when the time is right. He’s too young for that anyway.”

“But you always said how much you’ve hated Hogwarts, blossom –”

“Indeed, and I would have loathed any other school just as much. Besides, Hogwarts isn’t so far away – I don’t want to be sending my baby a cake and have it delivered as a rock. And also, Savvy is there – he’s still there, isn’t he? I mean – he’ll stay, yes?”

“Yep. He’ll look after your baby all right, Cissa,” Lucius snarled with an arch grin. “And I’ll have you all to myself… Thinking about it, I cannot wait until the little brat has left for school!”

“Lucius!”

He seized her close and brushed a big, wet kiss on her cheek. “Just kidding, angel, just kidding. Come, you mustn’t trouble yourself so much!”

Draco himself was nothing but excited with the prospect of going to Hogwarts soon. He hardly talked of anything else; ignorant of his mother’s pains, he made plans, wondered how it would be, and had already decided that his favourite subjects were going to be Potions (like his mum’s), and Defence Against the Dark Arts (like his dad’s). He had no doubt that he would be a Slytherin, or that was what he professed anyway, because deep down, he felt the nagging fear that by some crazy accident, he could be ending up in Hufflepuff. Would his father disown him if that happened…? He didn’t want to go to Ravenclaw, or beware, Gryffindor either, but Hufflepuff was decidedly the worst option. Speaking of making plans – he was also contemplating what he could do in the worst case. He would run away then. Run away and hide, and his mum would be so anxious for his sake that she’d make his dad forgive him for his failure, and then his dad would use his many connections to get his son into Slytherin after all… Yes, he had worked it all out. It was bound to be great.

“You know who’s going to be in his year?” Lucius asked, after returning from a board meeting of the school governors. He was grinning mischievously.

“Vincent and Gregory.”

“Of course. But I’m talking about someone way more interesting.”

“I doubt that there are many students less interesting than these two. You know I like Graham a lot, but his son is a dimwit.”

“So is the kid’s old man, but never mind now. Come on, make a guess, chérie! There’s one student this year that everyone is going to take the greatest interest in!”

“You know I don’t read those celebrity magazines, honey. Give me a tip!”

He grinned even more. “A tip… That’d be a total give-away… Oh, hang on. I’ve got a tip for you – the kid I’m talking about is the child of someone that you would have considered a friend during school time!”

In her mind, she went through the short list of ‘friends’ she had had in Hogwarts. They had rather been Lucius’ friends anyhow. Bertie had a daughter, but she was only four or five… Damocles had no children at all. Evan was dead, but had he fathered a child before dying? He hadn’t been married though – and what about Gibbon? “Horatio has a child then?”

“None that I know of, and certainly none that’s going to Hogwarts this year. You’re slightly on the wrong track, sweeting.”

“Those were the only people that come remotely close to the term friend, darling.”

“Serious tip there – I’m talking about a girlfriend.”

She made big eyes. “Sure! Of course! Lily’s boy! Good heavens! Sure, he was born in the same summer like Draco… Famous Harry Potter is coming to Hogwarts then? Oh my!”

Lily Evans Potter… She hadn’t thought of her, or her son, for quite some time. Claiming that they had been friends in school might be exaggerated, on the other hand, Narcissa had been so reluctant to become acquainted with anyone that someone like Lily could be counted still. Back then, when Lily had died, Narcissa had often thought of her, naturally. Everyone had been wildly interested in the baby’s fate then, and in the boy himself. It had remained a mystery how on earth he had survived the attack of Voldemort, but in time, Narcissa had forgotten about it. Voldemort was dead. The war was over. Lucius was in danger no more. And the boy had been taken to some Muggle relatives, far away from the magic world.

“Draco will be thrilled to hear who’s going to be his classmate!”

“Even I am thrilled, petal. Just imagine, we’re finally going to learn what it is about him!”

“There’s no way that he’s going to be the next Dark Lord, Lucius. What do you bet?”

“He might be. He thought he was going to be a serious threat for him!”

“But not because he’s going to grow up to become a Dark wizard, dear. Just think who his parents were. I wager that he’s not even going to Slytherin. He’s got a hundred percent Gryffindor genes.”

“We’ll see! But I’m holding your bet. If you’ll win, I’ll get you that Vermeer painting that pleased you so much in Amsterdam. If I win, you’ll go out with me, full blast. Diagon Alley, Avalon Alley, a dinner, a night at the opera and dancing then.”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll win anyway.”

Draco was as delighted as his parents had imagined. “Harry Potter! Wow! I got to tell Vince and Greg! Blimey!” And he insisted on hearing the tale about The Boy Who Lived again. There was no child in the magic world that didn’t know the story by heart, but Draco, like every other child, couldn’t get enough of it. Both Lucius and Narcissa suppressed a smirk with the inconsistency in their son’s fancy. On the one hand, he did have a notion that his father had somehow been involved with You Know Who. They hadn’t actually told him, but the boy wasn’t stupid, and he had read between the lines that at least his father held that wizard in some esteem. On the other hand, he just loved the idea that a kid like himself could have the power to defeat the most powerful wizard of all times, and he was dying to meet this hero at last.

“You think he’s going to be a Slytherin, Dad?”

Narcissa sniggered. “Oh yes, your father would wager a million galleons on that.”

“The poor boy… Growing up with Muggles! You think he’s ever been doing magic before?”

“Probably, dear.”

“I can help him though! I can show him stuff! And I can introduce him to the right folks, like Greg and Vince!”

Narcissa did not voice her opinion on that head and merely smiled. “Certainly, mon trésor. You can be of great help for the boy.”

“Must be very bad for him… Having no mum or dad…”

“Yes, darling, but he’s got his aunt and uncle. I’m positive that they’ve taken just as good care of him.”

Draco put on a wise face. “But they are Muggles, Mum!”

“You think the Muggles don’t care for their children?”

He tilted his head and contemplated that question very earnestly. “But the Muggles hate us. They want to kill us if they can… And it’s not as if Harry Potter was their own child, right?”

Lucius arched a brow and shot his wife a humouring look. “He does have a point there, chérie. I think I remember Lily saying that her sister wasn’t very fond of her.”

“But then they were children, honey. You think Bella liked me when we were children?”

“And I wouldn’t want our son to be raised by her as a grownup either!”

Draco’s curiosity was kindled by that mention. He technically knew that his mother had an older sister named Bellatrix, because her name was on the family tree, but that was as far as his knowledge would go. “Why wouldn’t you want that, Dad?” he asked hopefully.

“Because I believe that your mother and I are doing a fabulous job with you, junior!”

Draco supposed that his aunt Bellatrix’ crime was marrying either a Squib, or a Muggle. His other aunt had got married to a Muggle-born, a fact that his father thoroughly disapproved of, still he had got to know that aunt and her family. Consequently, Aunt Bella’s mistake must be worse, because his parents refused talking about her, or telling Draco just anything. Not even his dad, who was quite easy-going and frequently intimated little secrets to the boy, would say anything about her. His mum did keep a photograph of her sister though; but they didn’t look much alike.

School would start in September, but Draco started packing by the end of July. He made the servants bring him the biggest trunk they could find and hurled in everything that was dear to him. His children’s broom – the potions kit he had got for his birthday – his collection of trading cards – his marble chess board – four card decks, to make sure – a framed photo of his mum – a painting of both of his parents – one of his father’s Quidditch Cups – a gigantic box of his favourite chocolate biscuits – all of his favourite books – Emma the cat (that put up vicious resistance against this sign of affection) – his best pyjamas (a stroke of reason hitting him there) – his violin – a French dictionary – his favourite pillow – the Hengist of Woodcroft costume – two jars of quince jelly – he was stopped by his mother when he tried to take down a huge painting that depicted Malfoy Manor.

She inspected the contents of his trunk, chuckling and unpacking at least half of it. “Your dad would dearly miss his Quidditch Cup, darling – and I would dearly miss Emma.” She undid the Petrification spell that he had cast on the cat, and this one bristled her fur and hissed at him before she sprinted away.

“But we’re allowed to bring a cat, Mum!”

“I know. But don’t you think that an owl would be more useful? Besides – Emma’s home is here. She wouldn’t be well elsewhere.”

“But you can’t play with an owl! Or cuddle!”

“Trust me, darling, you wouldn’t want to cuddle with your pet in front of your dorm-mates anyway.”

Two days later, Lucius took a day off, Narcissa overcame her dislike, and they went to London together, to get the things that Draco would really need. She rejected the Floo Network, so Lucius took Draco while Narcissa would Apparate. She felt highly uncomfortable in London; it was crowded, hot, and so many people on so little room didn’t smell good either. To shorten their stay, they had agreed to split up. Draco was supposed to go to Madam Malkin’s robes shop, Lucius took the book list and Narcissa used the pleasant coolness of Ollivanders to wait for her husband and son. Merlin, she hated the city!

Out of boredom, she tried out different new wands. There was nothing wrong with her old one, but she felt obliged to pretend interest, since the kind gentleman offered her shelter. She found a very beautiful one, rosewood and unicorn hair, with roses carved into the wood, that worked just as perfectly as her old one. Mr Ollivander was delighted. “A good choice, Madam Malfoy! I still remember your first one!”

In this moment, Draco entered the store, looking pensive, and asked how Harry Potter might look like. It turned out that he had met a strange boy in Madam Malkin’s, who was an orphan and knew absolutely nothing about the magic world. “He didn’t know what Quidditch is, Mum!”

She could see that he took that ignorance personal, but she couldn’t help him either. “I don’t know what he looks like, darling. You’ll meet him soon enough.”

Draco was eager to leave again straightaway and see if they’d come across that strange, dark-haired boy again. From his description, she’d say that he had indeed met the Potter boy – unruly, black hair, glasses, notably green eyes, yes, that sounded as if he could be Lily Evans and James Potter’s little boy. Narcissa insisted nonetheless that they’d stay. Lucius wouldn’t know where else to find them, and Draco needed a proper wand. He was keen to get one, too; his old children’s wand was worn-out and half-broken.

“Unicorn hair, like your good mother,” Mr Ollivander remarked with some satisfaction after finding the right wand. Lucius had joined them by now together with their youngest servant balancing a huge pile of books, and by no means inclined to allow his son chasing after the boy that might or might not have been the famous Harry Potter.

“Pleeeeease, Dad,” Draco begged for the twentieth time, if that was enough, and fidgeted around so much that he bumped into the elf carrying the books, who in turn dropped all of them.

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Merlin, give me patience,” he groaned, glaring at the elf scrambling the books together again.

“Please, Dad, please, please, please, please –”

“Do you want a broom or not,” he snarled, unnerved. “You should show a bit consideration for your mum, Draco!”

“We can get a broom and look for Harry Potter afterwards,” Draco suggested with an imploring gaze at his mother.

She mischievously smiled at Lucius. “Far be it from be to withhold you, my dears. Please, go ahead if you like, I can go home already!”

“But aren’t you curious, Mum?”

“Raring, precious. Not as much as your father, perhaps, but that doesn’t say much.”

“Dad?” Draco made big eyes.

“We will not go on a wild-goose-chase after that kid! Merlin knows if that truly was Harry Potter to begin with!” Lucius shook his head and gave his son one look of the ‘One-more-word-and-I’ll-be-angry’ sort. “I’m beginning to have second thoughts about your broom, son. You’re not allowed one in the first year –”

That remark returned Draco’s common sense at once.

*****

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