It was Halloween night. The starless night sky swallowed up the full moon, and it was chillier than usual. A small, delicately-boned boy stood on the road, clutching his mother’s hand; he was dwarfed by the looming silhouette of the manor behind him.

His mother flattened a sleek curl of blonde hair over his forehead and straightened his tiny gold crown. His prince costume was home-made, its silk breeches and velvet doublet industriously stitched together by house elves. “Now, Draco, what do you say after you knock on the door?” asked Narcissa.

“Trick or treat!” Draco said loudly, clapping his tiny hands together.

“That’s right,” Narcissa cooed. “And what do you say after they give you candy?”

“Thank you!” Draco replied. He’d learned his lines well for the big night.

The mother-and-son duo made their way through the dark streets, walking over the red carpet formed by fallen leaves. Draco stopped in front of a house decorated with tombstones and plastic monsters, sheet ghosts lurking behind trees and toy spiders suspended from windows. His jaw dropped with sheer childish awe. But rather than gently coaxing him up the walkway toward the haunted house, Narcissa pulled her son toward her. “Mummy! Why can’t I go?” he cried.

“You don’t want their candy,” she told him softly but firmly. “The people who live in that house are called ‘Mudbloods.’ We don’t like them.”

“Mud…bloods?” Draco repeated slowly, his little eyebrows knitting in confusion. He’d heard the word before, but he didn’t know what it meant.

“Yes, sweetie,” his mother replied. “You and Daddy and I and the rest of our family are all magical. But mudbloods come from families that can’t do any magic at all.”

The little boy giggled. “They can’t do magic?” he exclaimed. “That’s silly!”

Narcissa nodded. “I know. But the mudbloods like to pretend they’re just as magical and as good as the rest of us, even though they’re not. Family is important.”

“Am I important?”

“Yes, darling. You’re important because you’re a Malfoy. All of the Malfoys have been magical. You come from one of the best families,” Narcissa said.

Draco smiled up at his mother, swinging her hand. “I like our family,” he told her happily.

He got candy at the next house, a package of chocolate frogs. His round grey eyes gleamed when he saw the sweets that he had earned simply by saying the magic words ‘trick or treat.’ Draco wondered if it was a real spell.

As the night wore on, Draco’s candy bag grew heavier, and he grew wearier-- he’d been walking for a long time, and it was close to his bedtime. When Narcissa saw a yawn escape from his mouth, she knew it was time for them to return home.

“Can I eat some of my candy, Mummy?” he asked sleepily.

“Of course, love,” she told him. “But just one piece for now. You want to make it last a long time, don’t you?”

Draco frowned. “But when it’s all gone, Daddy will just buy me more,” he protested.

Narcissa patted his crowned head. “But this is special candy. It’s trick-or-treat candy, and it’s all yours.”

The little boy grinned impishly. But the grin faded from his face when he saw the costume of the teenager standing in front of the next house. The lanky young man wore tattered clothes and a furry grey mask of a red-eyed creature, slavering jaws studded with razor-sharp yellow teeth. Draco gave out a cry of fear and buried his face in his mother’s robes-- he’d never seen anything so scary before!

“Shhh, Draco, It’s just a costume,” Narcissa assured him soothingly. “You can look now, the scary man walked away.” Her tone of voice grew more serious. “But you were right to be afraid. He was dressed up as a werewolf. Werewolves are horrid creatures, but they only look like that when the moon is big and round, like tonight. The rest of the time, they look like normal people, like you or me. But they aren’t. They pretend to be wizards, like the mudbloods.”

Draco’s eyes were wide, resembling silver sickles. “I don’t like werewolves,” he said in a small but strong voice.

“I don’t like them, either,” Narcissa told him, smiling. By now, they had reached the Malfoy Manor again, and the pair stepped inside. The warm air of the house enveloped them, and Draco dropped his heavy bag of candy. “Did you like trick or treating?” asked Narcissa. Her son nodded emphatically. “I’m going to go get your pajamas, and I’ll summon Dobby to run your bath,” she told him. “You wait here like a good little boy.”

As his mother bustled off, there was a loud knock at the door. Curious, Draco stood on his tiptoes to reach the ornately carved doorknob and, with a Herculean effort, twisted it open. A very pretty little girl, no older than Draco, stood in the doorway , dressed as a fairy princess in pink lace. Her chestnut-coloured hair was in corkscrew curls, and her cheeks were pink. “Trick or treat,” she said brightly. Before the little boy could say anything in response, the girl continued to babble-- she was very articulate for someone her age. “Your house is pretty. But it doesn’t have any decorations. Our house has lots of decorations. We have pumpkins and ghosts and skeletons. I saw you in front of our house, but you didn’t take any candy. Why--”

Draco cut her off. “I can’t give you candy,” he told her in his sweet, childish voice. “You’re a mudblood.” And with that, he closed the door, smiling to himself. His mummy would be proud of him.