The Chosen One

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞

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      On a bleak, wintry evening, Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of a dimly lit basement at Malfoy Manor, dust swirling in the air as he moved an old, cobweb-covered trunk aside. It was then that he noticed something behind a pile of old volumes. The object was unusually bright, despite the lack of light in the room. 

It was a peculiar-looking glass box. The casket was rather small; it could fit in the palm of one hand. It was all made of glass, but it was impossible to see what was inside of it. It was likely enchanted. There were red rubies on the sides of it and a strange mark on the top of it.

When the teenager picked up the object, he felt abysmally. He dropped it as if it had burned him, for touching it felt as if a thousand tiny needles were sticking into his hand. After a moment, he realised that he had seen the mark on the box somewhere before. 

Panic surged through him. It might be one of the Horcruxes.

Should he destroy it, risking the wrath of whatever protective curses Voldemort might have placed on it? Or should he hand it over to the Aurors, hoping for clemency and protection?

Narcissa's voice echoed from upstairs, breaking his trance. "Draco, are you all right down there?"

"Yes, Mother," he called back, trying to steady his voice.

The blond man rolled up his sleeve and looked uncertainly at his Death Mark. He furrowed his brow, remembering how his father had told him to join the ranks of Lord Voldemort. How 'His Lord' had ordered him to kill Albus Dumbledore, despite Narcissa's protests. 

He shook his head and let out a long sigh. He did not want all of this to happen, and he only realised this recently.

Draco knew he had to do something.

With a resolute expression, he carefully wrapped the casket in a cloth and climbed the stairs. He found his mother in the library, her eyes widening at the sight of the thing in his hands.

"Mother," he said quietly, "I've found something."

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     Narcissa was frightened. She feared for her son, her only source of joy in life. She and Draco decided that they had to contact Harry Potter for help - pathetic as that might be. Draco was not satisfied with this idea. Besides, everything was being done in secret from Lucius and Bellatrix.

There was silence at the handing over of the Horcrux box to Harry Potter, broken occasionally by the Malfoy's house-elf. 

Narcissa had no choice.

Draco handed the box to Potter, reluctant to let go at first. Harry sighed in understanding, but eventually managed to take the item. 

"You're doing the right thing, Draco. Finally." mumbled Harry. Draco snorted and averted his gaze. 

"If I ever had a choice," he said mockingly, then added in a slightly more serious tone, "But I'm not The Chosen One. I am The Cursed One. I don't have to opt." He turned away, leaving Narcissa and Harry speechless.

Of course, he was right. Draco was a creation of his parents. He was a pawn, either of Lucius or of Voldemort. And he would never be able to escape his fate.

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