The letter had come at nine o’clock the next morning, and if Draco had known what was going to be inside of it, he probably wouldn’t have opened it at all. He was asleep; his night had been filled with an all night showing of his favourite nightmare, and he was exhausted from it. He had woken up through the night many times in a cold sweat, and in his opinion, frankly, it was quite ridiculous. A Malfoy wasn’t afraid of a dream; a figment of his imagination, replaying in his mind night after night after night. His father’s pallid face and dead grey eyes, eyes that were so like his, that so easily could have been his. It was wearing; reliving that moment every time he shut his eyes and dared to rest.
So when he was rudely awaken at a godforsaken hour by an impatient rap-rap-rap on his window, Draco was less than pleased. He struggled out from underneath his quilt and peered into the darkness. The window in his room was smothered by a thick black curtain; Draco could never sleep unless it was pitch black. He stumbled over to the source of the racket and tugged open the curtain to reveal an irritated looking tawny owl, complete with letter safely attached to its chest. Draco instantly recognised the glittering emerald green writing.
“Nu-uh. No way. Didn’t anyone tell you I wasn’t going back? You can bring that letter right back where you came from.”
The owl glared at him. It knocked on the window again.
“No, shoo! Go away, you stupid bird.” Draco flapped his arms in attempt to rid himself of the undisturbed owl, who continued to glower at him.
“I’m not going back, okay? You don’t need to give me the letter! Go away!”
He tugged the curtain back into place and stormed back to bed. The drumming continued. He sighed and pulled the blanket over his head. Then he added the pillow. The bird didn’t stop.
He swore loudly as he jumped out of the bed and stomped back over to the window. He pulled the curtain away. The bird narrowed its amber eyes. As Draco found himself tapping furiously at the window, he realised that he was getting into an argument with a bird. He opened the window reluctantly and swiped the letter.
“Fine, now you can go bugger off.”
With the letter scrunched in his fist, he went back to bed. He threw the letter onto his bedside locker.
“Stupid owl. Stupid letter. Stupid Hogwarts.”
He rolled over onto his side, facing away from the letter. He stared at the wall. There was a burning curiosity bubbling in his abdomen now. What could they possibly say in the letter? They couldn’t honestly want him back, could they? It was ridiculous. With Dumbledore gone… Dumbledore. Even the thought of that name made him want to vomit. He was one of the only people besides his mother that thought there was something good in him, something more. And now, now he was gone. Hogwarts wouldn’t be the same without him. Minerva McGonagall would now be Headmistress. Would she be fair? Would she think the same way Dumbledore did? He had to know. He sat up and reached for the letter, tearing off the envelope.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WTICHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Dear Mr Malfoy,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been newly appointed as Head Boy. This is a great honour that we are bestowing upon you, and we hope you have every success with it. Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King’s Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o’clock. You will meet your fellow Head Girl at five minutes to eleven in the closest carriage to the driver. We await your confirmation of your return by owl no later than 31 July. A list of books for next year is enclosed.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress
Draco dropped the letter in shock. It had to be some sort of mistake. Or a joke, maybe? Yes, a joke, that was it! Maybe Potter, or Weasley… It was a stupid joke. Draco began to laugh. It was a good one. Him, Head Boy! Draco Malfoy, the Prince of Slytherin, Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! It was unthinkable. It was laughable. It wasn’t true. Draco sighed in relief. Who wanted to be Head Boy, anyway? The stress, the responsibility… It wasn’t worth it. Yet, even as he thought this, he was having an inner battle with himself. Because now, well, being Head Boy didn’t sound all that bad. He was a Malfoy, after all, and what Malfoy didn’t love power? There was something more to it, though. A chance to redeem himself, to start all over. To show the wizarding world he wasn’t his father, he was Draco Malfoy, and Draco wasn’t as twisted and evil as he might have appeared to be. It was a pity it was all a joke. He hopped off the bed and bent down to pick up the letter. He examined it carefully. The familiar writing, the scarlet Hogwarts stamp, the badge reading Head Boy… It couldn’t be genuine, could it? After all he had done, who in their right mind would make him Head Boy?
“Accio parchment!”
A piece of parchment flew out from underneath his bed and into his outstretched hand.
“Accio quill!”
A ruffled, eagle feather quill zoomed out from underneath a pile of school books.
“This better not be a joke, Potter,” he muttered as he scribbled a reply.
“Accio envelope!”
Draco looked up to find the tawny owl scrutinizing him from the window sill.
“So you knew this was going to happen, eh? Outsmarted by a bloody owl… Well, you can make yourself useful.”
He shoved the piece of parchment into the envelope and threw it at the owl. The owl cocked its head to the side, gave him one last boring look and took flight. Draco watched it fly away and continued to stare out at the sky, even when the bird was long gone. He didn’t understand the burning desire he felt to return. He knew it wouldn’t be an easy year. He had no friends to go back to. There was no Snape there to take it easy on him. It was inexplicable, yet he had to do it. He had to prove that he had changed. He was a Slytherin, after all, and Slytherins didn’t just run away at the slightest sight of trouble. Draco heaved a sigh and tore his gaze away from the window. He’d have to go tell Narcissa now. She’d be delighted, at least. He never did like making his mother unhappy. After all, she was all he had now. As he trod lightly down the stairs, he wondered who the Head Girl would be. He just hoped it wasn’t Granger. He didn’t know if he’d changed enough for that.
Reflection by Nitwit Blubber Oddment Tweak x
Chapter Notes: In this chapter, Draco receives a letter from Hogwarts. Is it genuine? Or is someone messing with his mind?
Chapter Endnotes: Reviews are like goblin-made jewellery; rare, treasured and greatly appreciated :)