PART TWO
BORGIN AND BURKES
Three weeks had passed, and the Demiguise still was caged in Lucius’ study, which he locked every night. Draco hadn’t spoken to Lucius since the incident, but Lucius had taken to making snide comments at the dinner table.
“I hope you haven’t named it,” he’d smirk. “I’ve heard if you name things it gets you more attached to them, and then the… parting will be harder.”
Draco had chosen not to respond, and spent the rest of his meal eating nothing and cutting his roast beef into very fine pieces.
Dobby had returned within two days, and refused to tell anyone, even Lucius, where he had been, but spent an hour after his arrival punishing himself in every way possible, which made the Malfoys very suspicious.
One sunny, clear morning, Lucius rapped on Draco’s bedroom door, and, without waiting for an answer, entered.
Draco, who had been sleeping, rolled over and squinted against the bright sunlight that was streaming in through his bedroom window.
“Draco,” said Lucius, “we’ve received your list of school supplies from Hogwarts. I also have some business to attend to at Borgin and Burkes, and wish you to accompany me,” he waited a while, as if expecting a response, and when he did not get one, he turned to leave. “I await your presence in no more than ten minutes.”
Draco waited until the door had snapped shut, and then locked it. He was still feeling rather resentful towards his father, and was in no mood to speak to him still.
In his cage on Draco’s dresser, Marvolo squawked noisily.
“Oh, shut up,” Draco said to the unhappy bird, but crawled out of bed and fed him some Owl Treats all the same.
He then opened a drawer in his dresser, took out a clean set of robes to wear, and pulled them on. No use delaying when he had to go to Knockturn and Diagon Alleys with Lucius. It would happen eventually anyway, and if he took too long he would only aggravate his father even further than he already had.
Lucius was waiting downstairs with a bag of Floo Powder in his right hand, and a black box in the other when Draco arrived minutes later.
“Take this,” Lucius said, pressing the box into his hands.
Draco hastily took it and a pinch of the glittering powder without question and stepped into the fireplace.
Lucius smiled nastily.
“It will do you no good not speaking to me, Draco.”
“Knockturn Alley!” Draco shouted, and Lucius’ scowling face disappeared in a rush of green flames.
He tried not to take a breath in case he inhaled any flying ash, but it was almost impossible. If he did not breathe he would surely suffocate.
Mere seconds later the walls around Draco stopped spinning, and he was thrust into a street full of wicked looking witches and wizards, feeling slightly dizzy.
Draco did not wait for Lucius. He had been to Knockturn Alley many times before, and knew where Borgin and Burkes lay.
Turning right, Draco set off down the alley, and soon reached the shop. He peered in a cracked, cobweb-lined window, and was met with a strange sight.
Someone stood at the far end of the shop, his hand seemingly caught on something. The person looked to be struggling to get free. The strange thing was that it looked like Harry Potter…
Draco raced up to the Borgin and Burkes doorway, watching his feet to make sure he didn’t stumble on a loose cobblestone. He looked around frantically, but whoever it was had vanished. What had it been? An apparition? A hallucination?
Draco looked down, disappointed, and noticed a strange, detailed sculpture lying on display near him. He reached out, tracing the curves in the figurine’s shape with his fingers.
A step behind him told Draco that his father had arrived, and he snatched his hand away only a moment before Lucius’ serpent-headed cane struck the place where it had lain on the statue seconds before.
“Leave that be,” Lucius demanded.
Draco gave him a nasty look behind his back as his father turned away.
He looked down and followed Lucius further inside the small shop, surveying the contents of the room eagerly, and still clutching the box in his hands.
There were rows of every disgusting thing imaginable on the walls and counters around the shop. Draco noticed numerous shrunken heads, severed limbs, eyeballs floating in some unknown substance in glass jars, and several bloodstained weapons of all sorts.
They reached the very back of Borgin and Burkes, and Lucius stepped up to the counter. At the same moment a greasy man hobbled up on the other side of the counter, wringing his hands.
“Good morning,” he said in a slippery voice. “It’s a pleasure to see you here once more. Oh, and I see you’ve brought your son. Wonderful…” He nodded to Draco, who glanced at him only momentarily, and then resumed his examination of the shelves’ contents.
“Mr. Malfoy, I must insist you look at this. I’ve just got a new order in today, and already I’m almost sold out,” the man prepared to launch into a lengthy description of the item, and began to reach below the counter.
“I won’t be buying anything from you just now,” Lucius interrupted. “I have something to sell.”
“To sell?” said Borgin incredulously, as if it were a preposterous thing to want to do.
Lucius called Draco over, who quickly tore his eyes away from a vampire skull and brought Lucius the black box, placing it on the counter before Mr. Borgin.
He then turned to look over the shelves on the other side of the room.
Lucius placed a hand on top of the box, turning his attention back to Borgin.
“I received a letter today from the Ministry of Magic. They have informed me that they will soon be making searches of private houses,” he said. “They seem to be concerned about Muggles, and wish to make sure that I’m not withholding anything that could be dangerous to them.”
Borgin sneered. “Muggles are being cared after more and more lately.”
“Not by me,” said Lucius firmly. “So I must get these items out of my house. They won’t fit in my only securely hidden place, but I must be rid of them.”
He opened the box, and Borgin began rummaging inside, looking closely at each of the items. His eyes suddenly grew round, and he drew something out from within the box, gaping at it.
“What is that?” he exclaimed.
Draco tried to peer around Lucius, but he couldn’t make out what it was.
Lucius abruptly snatched it away from Borgin’s greedy grasp.
“Unfortunately, I won’t be selling that item today. I don’t know how it ended up in this box,” Lucius shot Draco a suspicious look.
Borgin was still looking hungrily at whatever it was.
“Well, I completely see why you would want to keep it. No one can tell whose unworthy possession it could fall into if I sold it here,” he glowered at Lucius, and then resumed their business.
Meanwhile, Draco wandered over to a huge, steel case that looked more like a coffin; big enough for a human to stand in. He felt the cool metal of its surface, imagining locking Lucius inside until he wasted away and died. The thought filled his mind with immense pleasure.
“I think that’s all for today,” Draco heard Lucius say to Mr. Borgin, who sneered in response.
Lucius then noticed Draco touching the coffin-like structure, and struck it with his cane as he had the statue.
“Draco!”
“Sorry,” said Draco, not too truthfully.
Lucius removed his cane abruptly.
“Come along now. We’re leaving.”
Draco gave the coffin one last look, and stepped towards the door to the shop with Lucius.
Draco could hear Mr. Borgin calling after them in farewell.
Lucius and Draco stepped out into the street once more, and Draco took his first opportunity (when a witch tried to press a platter of dried and fresh werewolf tongues onto Lucius) to escape again.
He found his way out to Diagon Alley, and, figuring that he’d at least need money to pay for his purchases, walked towards Gringotts, the wizarding bank at the opposite end of Diagon Alley.
The building was bright white, and infested with goblins. Draco detested them, but he had to get his money somehow. So, hoping that Lucius hadn’t terminated Draco’s personal bank account, he pushed his way through the crowd and up the steps into Gringotts.
Inside, he walked up to a rather testy looking goblin behind a counter, and shoved his vault key under his nose.
The goblin glared at him momentarily, then apparently remembered its place, and dropped its gaze.
Draco smirked, feeling superior, as the goblin led him back through a set of double doors and down a stone hallway. He climbed inside the traveling cart into which the goblin guided him, and they sped down a long, cold tunnel on railway tracks to Draco’s vault.
Lucius had obviously forgotten to take the time to close the vault; it opened as easily as always.
Draco filled his pockets with mostly Galleons, but also several Sickles and Knuts. He then walked back to the cart, feeling the delicious weight of his money in his pockets, and had the goblin return him to Gringotts’ main building.
Outside once more, there was still no sign of Lucius, so Draco, feeling considerably happier, started to wander around Diagon Alley. He met a few friendly faces along the way, including Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch team captain, and Adrian Pucey, another member of the team. He was just looking into the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies at the new Nimbus Two-Thousand One, when a pretty, clear voice sounded in his ear.
“Are you thinking about buying one?”
Draco turned. It was Pansy.
His stomach did an odd sort of turn, and he could hardly force himself to talk. When he did, however, it wasn’t half as bad as he’d expected.
“Yeah,” he managed to say casually. “I reckon my dad will buy one for me if I make the Quidditch team at tryouts this year.”
Pansy smiled, showing her straight, white teeth.
“That would be fun, huh? If I were any good at the game I’d try out too, but I’ll just be content with cheering you on this year.”
Draco smiled awkwardly, blushing. He cleared his throat.
“So, how’s your summer been? Not horrible, I hope?”
Pansy shrugged.
“Oh, just boring, that’s all. My friends were all vacationing, so I didn’t have anyone to talk to… What about yours?”
Draco almost laughed. Oh, yeah, his summer had gone just splendidly.
Pansy seemed to realise he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Have you been to Flourish and Blotts?”
Draco shook his head.
Pansy groaned.
“It’s an absolute uproar. I’ve never seen the likes of it. Oh, and I saw that great oaf, Hagrid, wandering around an hour ago. I hope he’s left.”
Draco nodded fervently.
“So… Flourish and Blotts, eh? I suppose I’ll check it out, then. I do need to get my spell books still.”
Pansy smiled again, and shook her long hair back from her shoulders.
“Well, okay then. I probably have to go as well… I’ll see you at Platform 9 ¾ then?”
“Okay,” said Draco dazedly, and watched in awe as Pansy walked away, her robes fitting her slim figure perfectly. He only looked away after she had disappeared completely into the mass of witches and wizards walking around, and it still took him a minute to get his bearings.
So, she didn’t hate him at least, and wasn’t disgusted at how much of a prat he had made of himself on that last day on the Hogwarts Express, which now seemed too long ago and utterly foolish.
Okay, Flourish and Blotts… Draco thought, and began to walk towards the shop.
Upon arriving, he was immediately greeted by a huge, disgraceful poster of a famous wizard, Gilderoy Lockhart, and an enormous crowd thronging about the entrance.
He pushed his way inside, and climbed up a set of stairs to a second story where he could watch everyone from above.
Gilderoy Lockhart himself, who was (in Draco’s opinion) in actuality even more distasteful than his pictures, was signing books at the front of an eagerly awaiting line.
Witches all about were fixing their hair, looking overly excited. Draco sneered down at them.
An underfed, pushy photographer was circling Lockhart like a vulture, taking pictures every second.
“Excuse me,” he said bossily. “I must get this for the Daily Prophet...”
Suddenly a look of awe and disbelief crept on to Lockhart’s face.
“Harry Potter? Is it truly Harry Potter?” he exclaimed.
Draco sneered as he caught sight of Harry in the crowd.
The photographer looked overjoyed.
“Harry Potter!” he repeated, and shoved his way through the crowd until he reached Harry. He then seized him by the cloak and pulled him back towards Lockhart, who yanked Harry to him for a better picture.
The photographer was mad with delight.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lockhart announced. “This is the perfect moment that I’ve been waiting for. Little did Harry know, that when he came here to buy my newest book, Magical Me…”
The crowd applauded adoringly, and Lockhart gave what he must have thought was a winning smile.
“…he would not only receive that book…” Lockhart beckoned to a man beside him, who brought forward a large stack of books. “…but also my full set of books…” Lockhart paused for dramatic effect. “…with no cost to him whatsoever.” He smiled again.
Draco didn’t know why the crowd hadn’t been struck blind by his overly bright, disbelievingly white teeth.
The crowd gave a round of applause once more, and Lockhart shoved Harry away, who had been handed the huge stack of books, and was now trying not to overbalance with them.
Draco was disgusted. Harry must be horribly enjoying all of the attention he was getting. Why would anyone even bother to look twice at Harry? He was just a skinny, dirty boy that couldn’t go a week without his glasses breaking. Yet here were all these people gawking at him incessantly, fussing over his foul scar. Draco couldn’t even begin to comprehend why people would care so much about a silly thing like that. Of course, he supposedly defeated the Dark Lord, but where was the proof of that? People could believe anything.
Draco shook his head, scowling.
Harry had returned to the crowd, where he was greeted by the Weasleys. Draco left the balcony above Lockhart, and climbed back down the stairs to meet Harry and the Weasleys.
They were having trouble getting through the crowd, and taking incredibly long, so, to bide his time, Draco gazed up at the numerous rows of books on his right. An enormous, gold lined volume immediately caught his eye. It was labeled The Veritaserum. Reaching up, Draco pulled the book from its place and opened to a page somewhere in the middle of it. The book seemed to be an entire novel on the properties of the truth potion. Draco flipped to the first page, where a series of ingredients and instructions for making the potion were listed.
Suddenly hearing Harry and his friends approaching, Draco looked left and right, and then slyly ripped the page out of the book. He folded it, placed it in his pocket, and ran down the remaining stairs to stand in front of Harry.
“Hey, Potter! How did you like all that attention there?” he sneered, looking around at them evilly. “You know, you’d better watch out. Wouldn’t want you thinking you’re better than you really are, would we?”
A sudden weight on Draco’s shoulder made him jump, the smile vanishing from his face, and he looked down, full of dread, to see Lucius’ serpent-headed cane resting there.
Lucius increased the pressure on his cane, and shoved Draco to one side, glaring cruelly at him.
He then noticed Harry in front of him.
“Harry Potter, hmm? I’m Lucius Malfoy,” he introduced himself, extending a black-gloved hand, which Harry took tentatively. “I can’t believe this is the first time that I’m meeting you.”
Lucius abruptly tightened his grip on Harry’s hand, and pulled him closer, examining his scar.
Harry looked surprised, and a bit like he wanted to escape, but Lucius didn’t care.
Draco frowned at Harry as his father finished surveying the scar and released him.
Lucius then looked over the Weasleys, sneering at their tattered clothes and books.
At that moment Mr. Weasley appeared, noticed Lucius, and tried to move his group outside.
Lucius, however, wouldn’t give him the chance. They addressed eachother rather stiffly, and then Lucius advanced upon Mr. Weasley.
Draco laughed wickedly, listening to his father beat down upon the Weasleys. Mr. Weasley was looking murderous, angered by whatever Lucius was saying, but Draco couldn’t hear. His father was talking too quietly for anyone else to know what they were talking about.
Lucius finished discussing this with Mr. Weasley, and nodded to him.
“See you at work, then.”
Then, without waiting for a response, and not even glancing at Draco, he turned on his heel and strode out the door of Flourish and Blotts.
Draco cast Harry and his friends one last look of triumph, smirking.
He then left Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys looking extremely disgusted and angry, and walked out after his father.
In the street, Lucius turned and grabbed Draco’s arm.
“What was on your mind, boy, when you decided to run off again?”
Draco didn’t respond. He had thoroughly enjoyed watching Lucius put down his worst enemies, and now he was ruining it all again.
“I would’ve thought,” Lucius continued, “given that we’re already on horrible terms, that you would do a bit more to prevent it from getting worse.”
He led Draco down the crowded street, still lecturing him.
They entered various shops, buying the items on Draco’s school list one by one. Draco hadn’t grown, but Lucius still insisted on getting him new school robes. They also had to eventually return to Flourish and Blotts to purchase spell books, but this time there was nothing to distract them; Lockhart had finished signing books and had departed, and Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys were long since gone.
Lucius made his purchases fast and then used a fireplace in Eeylop’s Owl Emporium, where they had bought some food for Marvolo, to travel home.
Narcissa greeted them dispiritedly; her mind seemed to be elsewhere.
Dobby helped carry Draco’s new things to his room and then scampered off. Draco fed Marvolo, placed the Veritaserum ingredients under his pillow, began to put his new school robes in his wardrobe, and then took them out again.
Six more days and he’d be returning to Hogwarts. He’d been waiting all summer for this, and now it was almost upon him. No more Lucius. He wouldn’t have to worry about pleasing anyone except his teachers again. He was about to escape.
“Tomorrow we’ll drive you to King’s Cross,” said Lucius. “Ridiculous Muggle ‘cars’. They’re so slow and unpredictable.”
Draco rolled his eyes. Lucius had been complaining about the same thing for the past fifteen minutes. Somehow the conversation always returned to the subject of cars.
“But, before tomorrow, we have something to resolve,” said Lucius swiftly. “Come with me.”
Draco got up from the couch and followed Lucius upstairs. They retreated to the far end of the hall, where Lucius’ study was situated.
Lucius pulled a golden key from his robes, and opened the study with it.
“In,” he directed, and Draco stepped inside the room, which held one smooth, oak desk, a green shaded lamp, and various filing cabinets and huge plants. On one of the cabinets was a cage, and inside the cage was Draco’s Demiguise.
Lucius shut the door behind himself as he entered after Draco, who was staring at the Demiguise. It had grown several inches in the previous month, and looked unkempt and disheveled.
Lucius handed Draco his wand, and pointed one long finger at the Demiguise.
“Your punishment.”
The wand dropped from Draco’s numb hand.
“No!”
Lucius’ eyes flashed.
“You seem to be fond of that word,” he snarled. “I, however, am not, especially when it is said by you, and directed towards me. Therefore, I suggest you pick up the wand, and finish what you started.”
Draco tried to unstick his throat.
“But… the Ministry of Magic… I’m not allowed to do magic outside of school,” he stammered.
“It’s my wand, and my house. They won’t be able to tell who cast the spell.”
The Demiguise was looking weakly at Draco, purring feebly.
Draco bent down, and picked up the wand.
“Go on,” Lucius persuaded.
Draco looked at the Demiguise, which was regarding him with a pitiful expression. It looked so innocent, but maybe it wasn’t…
Lucius had been wrong.
Draco was not the slightest bit attached to the pathetic mass of bones and silver fur before him, yet he had just named it. For he had named it Harry Potter, and he hated Harry Potter. And, of course, the only thing that Harry Potter deserved was death.
Draco Malfoy raised the wand high above his head. After all, he didn’t want to be a disappointment to his father.