Father's Little Deatheater

Diagon Alley

August 1st 1992

Draco and I enter Borgin and Burkes in front Father. I have been in here a few times with him before, but I don't notice till now how cold and dimly lit the place is. Draco and I go our separate ways in the shop as Father strides up to the counter and and rings the bell for assistance. While waiting he turns in Draco's direction. "Touch nothing, Draco." He scowled, as Draco was reaching for a glass eye on a shelf. "I thought you were going to buy me a present." Draco groaned. "I said I would buy you a racing broom," Father argued back, as he drummed his fingers on the counter. "What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" Draco retorted back, looking sulky and clearly in a bad mood. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead..." Draco then bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls. "... everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick.." Draco continued moaning about Harry. I roll my eyes as I continue looking around. "You have told me this at least a dozen times already," Father demanded with an annoyed look back at Draco. "And I would remind you that it is not.. prudent.. to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear.. ah, Mr. Borgin." 

Father is distracted by Mr. Borgin appearing from behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face. "Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a sort of creepy voice. "Delighted.. and young Master Malfoy," he said looking over towards Draco. "And young Miss Malfoy too.. charmed." He continued looking my way. "How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced —" Mr. Borgin gets cut off by Father. "I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," "Selling?" Mr. Borgin's smile faded slightly from his face. "You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Father, as he takes out a roll of parchment from his pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. "I have a few.. ah.. items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call..." Mr. Borgin pulled on a pair of small glasses and looked down the list. "The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?" Fathers lip curled. "I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act.. no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it.." My hands ball into fists and I can feel my nails digging holes into my palms, but I ignore it and continue listening for more information. "..and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear.." Father continues rambling. "I understand, sir, of course," said Mr. Borgin.

"Let me see..." "Can I have that?" Draco interrupted by pointing at the withered hand on a cushion. "Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir." Mr. Borgin says. "I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin, and my daughter, well lets hope she stays away from those vermin she calls friends, maybe then will she be in my good books." Father says rather coldly.
I wander over to Draco and touch his shoulder, "Enough Draco I don't want him any madder than he already is." But of course he doesn't listen, he just wants to make things worse. "It's not my fault," retorted Draco. "The teachers all have favorites," I decide I've had enough so I walk out of the shop in a hurry and I just wait for them outside, leaning against the shop window.

A few moments later both Draco and Father come out of the shop, Father slamming the door behind him and stroking me on the shoulder with his cane. "What's you're problem you pathetic, impolite girl. Don't ever embarrass me like that again, or you will regret it." Father walks away and Draco and I follow slowly. He grabs my and and rubs his thumb over my knuckles. Its his way of discreetly calming me down after Father has yelled at me. I look up and smile at Draco.

Before we head into a crowded Florish and Blotts, I quickly wipe away my tears from my now soaked face with the sleeve of my black woolen top. I glance down at my slightly taller and slender frame and straighten out my black skirt.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart. Here he is." We hear as we enter the shop, Father hurried us along ignoring that annoying man, as we go gather our books for school. As I'm looking at the books with Draco up top on the balcony we hear another commotion, and of course its about Harry Potter. "It can't be. Harry Potter? Harry Potter!" A few seconds go by as the photographer grabs Harry and brings him to the front to stand next to Gildoroy Lockhart. "Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is. When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts this morning... to purchase my autobiography, Magical Me...which, incidentally, is currently celebrating...its 27th week atop the Daily Prophet bestseller list...he had no idea that he would, in fact, be leaving...with my entire collected works...free of charge." Everyone in the shop clapped and the photographer took their photo.

I notice all the Weasleys downstairs, but before I'm about to head down Draco beats me to it, as he starts making a scene. "I'll bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter? Famous Harry Potter. Can't go into a bookshop without making the front page." Draco demands pacing down the stairs. "Leave him alone." Says a smaller Weasley who I'm guessing is Ginny the youngest of the Weasley family, Fred and George talk about her a lot. "Look, Potter. You've got yourself a girlfriend. "Draco retorts, before being struck by Fathers cane. "Now, now, Draco, play nicely. Mr. Potter. Lucius Malfoy. We meet at last. Forgive me. Your scar is legend. As, of course, is the wizard who gave it to you." Father introduces. "Voldemort killed my parents. He was nothing more than a murderer." Harry said abruptly. "You must be very brave to mention his name. Or very foolish. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself." Father adds in a deranged tone before glancing in Hermione's direction. "And you must be Miss Granger. Yes, Draco has told me all about you. And your parents. Muggles, aren't they? And Mr. Grey another Muggle-born." I continue to look down, but when I hear him say Atticus's name I ball my fists up and dig my nails into my palm, not realising I actually draw some blood. "Let me see. Red hair, vacant expressions...tatty, secondhand book. You must be the Weasleys." Father continued berating, as he picked up the book in Ginny Weasleys little cauldron.

"It's mad in here. Let's go outside." Mr. Weasley says coming over to try and usher his family out.
"Well, well, well. Weasley senior." Father says "Lucius." Arthur greets in a dull tone. "Busy time at the Ministry, Arthur, all those extra raids? I do hope they're paying you overtime...but judging by the state of this, I'd say not. What's the use in being a disgrace to the name of wizard...if they don't even pay you well for it?" Father just cant stop himself, can he I think to myself. "We have a very different idea about what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy." Mr. Weasley adds. "Clearly. Associating with Muggles. And I thought your family could sink no lower. I'll see you at work." Father demands, putting the book back into Ginny's cauldron but adding Tom Riddles diary with it. "See you at school." Draco adds walking off after father. "Sorry," I whisper to the Weasleys with my head down. "Hurry up foolish girl," Father berates, as I walk off quietly. 

When we get back to the manor I go straight into my room and hear my journal vibrating in my drawer, I walk over to get it out to see who had written to me. I see that its in the ink Atticus uses but its not his handwriting, its from George and I cant help but smile as start reading it. 

Hey Asteria

I have been trying to send you letters but I'm guessing you haven't been receiving them. I hope one day you will confide in me and tell me the things that are going on with you. I really hope that's soon because I'm worried about you, by the way you looked nice today. -George

Thank you George, Sorry I promise I will talk to you at school this year, when I'm ready. -Asteria

I scribble a quick reply before putting it back in my drawer and going downstairs for more training.