I'm Coming For You, Draco Malfoy!

Why do bad things always happen in threes?

They say bad things always happen in threes. Perhaps that's true too. Certainly seems so to me.

It was already dark when I Apparated from St Mungo's to Hogsmeade and struck out up the hill towards the school. I had my hands deep in the pockets of Harry's smart wool coat that I still borrowed and found myself clutching the Tourmaline gemstone. It was, as Harry had said, deeply reassuring despite its sharp corners. For once I wasn't ruminating over the dangers of being alone but, instead, was lost in thoughts about my father, wondering what the future held for him, for mother and me. It was, currently, a strange state of stasis as we waiting to see whether he might improve or regress further.

I suppose that was my mistake. I wasn't focused. I wasn't staying alert as I passed through the school gates into the grounds and followed the path past the Forbidden Forest.

I didn't even feel the curse hit me.

The first I knew was when I fell face first to the cold wintery floor beside the footpath. I felt a brief horror that I was unable to brace myself from the impact because my hands were still in my pockets. I just toppled, solid like stone, unable to move my limbs. It was something of a Petrificus Totalus but I instinctually knew this curse was different – it was far worse. I felt cold all over, as if I was being frozen from the outside in. I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted to succumb to unconsciousness but I was utterly cognisant. I was more alert than I'd felt in years and it sat at odds with the rigidity of my body.

I was aware of someone approaching and my body being rolled over in the dirt so I was on my back. A male, dressed entirely in black and wearing a heavy travel cloak, bent over me and attempted to prod me with their foot. I couldn't feel it but I saw and it served to rock my body mildly.

And I felt panic raising up within my constricted chest.

Harry, I pleaded in my mind. Harry will find me, I told myself, trying to calm the fear. Harry will sort this out.

'You make a prettier statue than reformed Death-Eater, Malfoy,' the man said.

His voice was familiar but I couldn't place it. A student, I thought, not a man, though maybe a seventh year, he possessed on aura of being on the cusp of manhood.

'I know your conscious behind there. Don't you think it's appropriate that I should find a spell that gives you a mask of stone that hides the truth. It reflects you so much, an emotionless mask that hides the true Draco Malfoy. And no one will know, they'll think you dead, turned to cold white marble by a Statue curse, but you aren't. Not yet anyway. This curse is a bit more obscure than that. It will come. But not before you've heard your pathetic friends mourn for you. You need to experience their sorrow, their grief. You need to understand how it feels to know your own death is pending while those around you are helpless to help because that was what it was like. That was what it was like for my mother after she was cursed by your bloody father, just because her parents were Muggles. Two weeks, that was what we lived through, a horror of two weeks, knowing she was dying but being helpless to reverse the curse. And then you, you dare to come back here, play the sympathy card, and pretend you're a victim. But you haven't changed, have you? I see you bestow your charming smiles on those who count. I see you sneer at the rest of us. I bet you're so smug to have Harry's favour. It's certainly made you bold enough to start re-establishing your gang of baby Death-Eater followers. Yes, I know you for what you really are, Malfoy.'

Oh Merlin! My thoughts were whirling, caught between fear of what he'd cast on me and the hint at impending death, sorrow for yet another person fallen victim to the war, and anger that I was once again carrying my father's legacy... My father again. My father was responsible for yet another death, yet another innocent life taken. And for what?