𝗨𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗗 ━ Golden Trio Era

━chapter 8

Chapter 8
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THE FRAGILE PEACE IN DRACO'S HOME WAS HELD BY STRINGS THAT RESIDED IN LUCIUS MALFOY'S GRASP. It was up to the man to decide whether or not he wanted to maintain that peace or not.

Or at least, that was what Draco used to believe. Until one day when he watched his father, his strong and prideful father, sink down to his knees in fear and Draco realised that the strings were, in reality, tied around the man's wrists, and he was doing someone else's bidding.

There was once a time when Draco blindly looked up to his father. Though, that was before, well before Adhara Black spawned out of nowhere and pointed things out. Before Black had called him ignorant, and Draco was nothing if not intelligent, and he would not stand aside as someone called him that. It was a matter of his pride.

Thus, Draco had picked up a book. A muggle book, disguised under many layers of charms because he knew it was something his father would not approve of. In fact, his mother wouldn't approve of it either, despite how much more lenient she was with him than his father.

So, Draco picked up a book. And he read, not expecting anything from it at all. He didn't expect Adhara Black to be right.

But she was, and Draco was dumbfounded.

Muggles weren't...completely daft. It was true that they came up with, dare he say, ingenious, solutions to counter problems that could otherwise be solved with a simple flick of a wand.

Still, their methods were much longer. Much more complicated. Not to mention, they didn't have the solutions to every problem. They were beings without magic, after all. Witches and wizards, they had magic. They didn't need such tedious methods to deal with simple tasks. No, they could do it easily with magic.

And muggleborns. Well, Draco supposed it wasn't their fault if their parents were lesser.

Even then, however. That didn't mean he didn't look up to his father anymore. He still did, of course he did. Just maybe not as much since he watched the man sink to his—

No. That wasn't right. Father did what he had to do. To protect them all, to keep them safe. His father, mother and himself, they were family. And his father did what he had to do to ensure they would all get out at the other end unscathed.

And besides, his father wasn't completely wrong, was he? Muggles and muggleborns, they weren't...they weren't the same as him. Sure, they weren't stupid, but they weren't magic either, like how Draco and his family were. They perhaps don't deserve death, per se, but what was his father supposed to do? Stand up to the Dark Lord? That would be stupid. There was no way to defy the Dark Lord. It simply wasn't possible. Once one came under him, there was no escape, no freedom.

Lucius Malfoy was a marionette, and the Dark Lord his master. If he decided to cut down the strings, Draco's father wouldn't be free. The man would simply crumple to the ground.

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The top box was incredible. Fireworks and lights sparkled in the sky instead of its stars, illuminating the night. Harry could see every spectator from his seat.

The Weasleys got all the seats in the front row of the box. Harry leaned in as much as he could, hands on the railing to look down at the thousands of people that joined tonight to watch Bulgaria and Ireland go head to head.

Cameras flashed left and right, and random streaks of sparks erupted from wands everywhere. Harry could watch the mesmerising lights all night long.

"Can't believe we're actually here," voiced Ron.