Worthless

It was silent in this part of the Manor because Father and Mother were downstairs preparing the drawing room for a party that was to happen tomorrow.

Draco stood on his tiptoes and opened the top door of the glass cabinet. For a moment he seemed to teeter precariously, but he regained his balance and reached for the black book that he saw. For some reason – and he did not know why – it intrigued him more than anything else here in the wonderful world that was his father’s study.

Boredom, perhaps, was really the thing that had prompted him on this dull and dreary Sunday morning to enter the room that had been, and still was forbidden to him, its contents too complicated and dangerous for his young and still innocent (to an extent) seven-year-old mind.

The book was rather ordinary – bound with shiny black paper and cheap gold lettering on the cover. And yet there was something quite extraordinary about it that he could not place, for he had yet to learn the feeling of the presence of magic.

He opened it. The paper was soft yet crisp, with thin blue lines. It had not been written in.

Draco wondered why his father would keep such a diary at all – it could not be a present, for it was with all the other expensive books (that were too complicated for him to read), it was not anybody’s birthday soon, or Christmas, or any event and what’s more the diary was in an open place, as if Father was proud of it in some way.

He shrugged, glanced out of the window for a moment, and stood to put the diary back.

He heard footsteps on the stairs. Heading this way. He froze, unsure what to do. If it was Father (and he was sure it was) he would be in so much trouble. There was not another way out of this room, it would be pointless to hide, and besides there was nowhere to hide apart from under the large mahogany desk where he was sure to be fou –

“Draco?�

Lucius was standing in the doorway and he did not look pleased. Hurriedly, Draco hid the diary behind his back, but it was too late; his father had seen.

“Draco, what are you holding?�

His father crossed the room in four strong steps and Draco held his breath, looking at the door, the wall and the floor. Lucius yanked back his son’s arm, gripping it much tighter than necessary. He picked up the diary.

“I told you not to come in here,� he said coldly. “I told you, Draco, not to touch my things. Why do you never listen?�

Draco would much rather that he had been shouted at; this colder version of Father was much scarier and much less predictable. He didn’t know what to do so stared hard at the floor and mumbled something that could have been, “Sorry�.

“I TOLD you not to come in here and you disobeyed me!� Lucius hit his son hard across the face and Draco, caught unawares, fell to the ground, his knees buckled and he nearly hit his head on the desk. “I told you not to disobey me and you did. How will you ever be great or gain power if you have no discipline?�

Lucius placed the diary back into the cabinet and gestured to his son. “Do you have any idea how much this is worth? This is one of the most precious things in this house and your prying little hands could have destroyed it! Then we would be nothing – we would be worth nothing and our family name would be gone! Do you want that to happen?� he thundered.

Draco shook his head, still crouched on the floor. He mumbled an apology, shivering, eager to be out of the room.

His father waved at him to go. “You could have destroyed us with your nosiness. You are worth nothing compared to this. Now get out of my sight.�

Draco got up and ran.

--

He sneered as he watched Granger climb the stairs leading from the Great Hall. Her bag was not with her and in her arms were several heavy books that she was hugging to her chest as if they meant the world, which, he thought, they probably did.

She stumbled on something and a book tumbled out of her arms and fell down a couple of steps to land spread-eagled on the bottom step. A few torn pages flew out; they were yellow and old and stained; the book looked important, from the Restricted Section most likely, on the subject of some complicated art or magic.

She turned, saw Draco watching and took in the unkind look of amusement on his face. Ignoring it, but with a slight flush to her cheeks, she bent to pick up the book.

Draco turned and began to walk towards the dungeon steps. He called after her, the sneer still twisted around his lips.

“I’d be careful with that book if I were you Granger – it’s probably worth more than your whole house.�