BANALITY : Draco Malfoy

60

In the morning, I wake up. After getting dressed, I realize that I am the first one awake. I take the opportunity to find the bathroom and shower. I was right. The house is only one floor. There is a bathroom, Terry's study, his bedroom, the main sitting room, and a kitchen with a small table. The kitchen leads to the front of the house where there is a large garden. I make myself toast and eat outside. It's quite cold, so I wear thick clothes and wrap a blanket around me. I'm not early enough to watch the sunrise, but it is still quite nice.

The door opens behind me, and I flinch. Terry sits down on the step beside me.

"It's not much," he says.

The garden is lovely. There are loads of hedges and bushes and flowers, and even a small pond in a corner. The property is small, but I could hardly ask for a better small piece of land to sit in while it is nearly December.

"Your book must have sold well," I reflect.

He nods, "wizards wanted the inside scoop on all the young heroes, barely of age."

"So, what are you working on now?" I ask.

"More history about the second wizarding war," he adjusts his thick glasses. "What do you know about it?"

"Less than you, certainly," I say, and then I explain that I know about Harry, Hermione, and Ron, and a bit about the Order of the Phoenix, and some things about Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. He tells me that it is more appropriate to call the Dark Lord by Lord Voldemort or his given name, Tom Riddle. Other than the persecution of muggles, I know little else.

"So, you really remember nothing?" he asks.

"Not really," I tell him. "I'm hoping to find the person that altered my memory since they might have more answers for me."

Terry nods, before looking at me, "I wish I could help. The last time I saw you was Professor Dumbledore's funeral. You went into hiding before any of the other muggle-borns we knew. The others waited until the Ministry of Magic fell."

He passes me one of the cups in his hand. It has apple juice inside, and so I sip it.

"Were we friends?" I ask.

He scratches the back of his neck, "somewhat. You preferred to be alone. We didn't really know each other."

There is still some truth to that. While I was desperate to be noticed by Amanda and Ali, I was never the biggest fan of socializing in large groups. They roped me into most social activities.

"Do you know if I had enemies?" I ask.

"Well, enemy is a strong word," he says. "Any sort of pureblood supremacist probably would have killed you, but extensive memory alteration seems time consuming. I would imagine it must have been quite personal, and I don't know anyone who felt strongly enough about you to do that."

With the apple juice in one hand and the plate with the crumbs of my toast in the other, I stand up. The garden is lovely, truly. Being outside is fantastic. I look past it and see that we are quite isolated. The house is on the end of a dead-end street, and the other houses are spread out. From my standing position, I can see down the hill to the river that runs through Derry. I would love to stay here once all of this is sorted.

When I turn to head inside, Terry coughs, "I... I could help you if I knew more. Who found you?"

He isn't safe to tell, "you said that I could use your history notes?"