Draco Malfoy's Perspective

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The reign of Dolores Umbridge came to an end. With it came the realization for many that Harry Potter had been telling the truth. He seemed both relieved and aggravated.

Violet scored a moment with Hermione on the train ride back for the summer. She passed the compartment where Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat and slid open the door. "Do you mind if I take a seat?"

Harry and Ron straightened, but Hermione smiled. "Of course not, Vi! Come sit!"

The boys began anxiously pulling on their clothes and patting down their hair and Violet smiled. "So, everyone knows now. Things will be different."

"Agreed," Ron and Harry said together.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Violet smiled. "And I hope my being in Slytherin doesn't make you think any differently of me. If you need any help, I'm willing to do so."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you, Violet."

"If only we'd gotten that offer our second year," said Ron. "We wouldn't have had to sneak in as Crabbe and Goyle."

Violet raised a brow. "How would I have helped you? I've been in Gryffindor until this year."

Hermione said, "That reminds me; how are you? I mean, is Slytherin really awful?"

She shook her head. "It was for the first few months, but after that it got better. I'm content."

"Good." She gave her a pity smile.

"Don't pity me, Hermione. The Sorting Hat moved me for a reason, and though I don't know what that is yet, it has to be important if it's never been done before. I'd better get back to my compartment." She stood and walked out, sliding the door back. It was halfway shut when she turned around. "Harry."

"Yeah?" His head snapped toward her.

"I knew you were right, and I'm sorry I didn't stop the other Slytherins from mocking you."

He smiled a bit. "Thank you, Violet."

She walked back to her compartment with Theresa and found the Prefect in conversation with a third year. "He's ruining my stuff!" the girl complained.

"Jinx him. We aren't off the train yet, so you can go ahead and do magic."

The girl smirked and ran off; Violet slipped in. "Anything important?"

"A squabble. Nothing really."

She nodded.

Her family received her teary-eyed. "We tried to convince the Headmaster to move you back to Gryffindor, Violet, we did."

Violet shook her head. "Don't bother. He won't. And anyway, we have much more important things to worry about than where I sleep."

That summer, Violet learned things she would have given her life not to have known.

It was a hot August day; she and her parents had just returned from Diagon Alley to collect her school supplies. She picked up The Daily Prophet off their stoop and read the headline as she walked inside.

Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge: Why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Has Not Returned

"Rubbish," she scoffed, throwing it down on the table and picking up The Quibbler. She had begun reading the magazine as simply a way to learn the truth about the goings-on of the wizarding world, but there were some good articles on other topics. The articles in Lovegood's magazine made sense, and were well thought out for such a cooky old man.

Practical Protections Against Dark Magic

How to Hide from Death Eaters

News on You-Know-Who's Actions Against Muggleborns

Violet's parents picked up The Daily Prophet and her dad skimmed the first few articles. "Very good. As long as the Ministry isn't worried, we don't have to be."

Violet rolled her eyes. "Rubbish. The Ministry wouldn't acknowledge You-Know-Who's return if he walked into the Ministry itself, shouted 'I am the Dark Lord', and killed everyone in there."

"Violet! Watch your tongue!" her mother scolded.

"If you want sense, read this." She slapped The Quibbler down in front of them. "There are real accounts of people seeing him, being killed by him. Unconvicted Death Eaters converging in seemingly ordinary places. Muggle families being killed in their homes!"

"All the work of Death Eaters, not the Dark Lord," her father said.

"He could kill me right now in front of you and you wouldn't admit it. You must be kidding me! All this evidence, and you're acting as daft as the Minister himself!"

"Violet!"

Violet took a deep breath; she was panting. "Why do you refuse to admit it?"

Her parents exchanged glances. "Violet, there's something we have to tell you," her mother said, reaching for her right sleeve. Her parents always wore long sleeves, even in summertime. Violet had never understood it, but her parents were strange in other ways as well.

Her father pulled back his sleeve and Violet felt her face pale as her stomach turned. There was a Dark Mark on his arm. Black, pulsing, writhing.

"It never faded completely. Not after we renounced him, not after all these years," her mother said. Violet saw the edge of a mark on her mother's arm and turned away. "It was always faded, but still there. Recently it's gotten much more prominent. We had hoped it was just a trick. A Death Eater who was manipulating us."

"You rejoiced when I was put in Gryffindor," she said.

"We didn't want you to turn out like we did."

"But now I'm in Slytherin. Whatever you were trying to prevent, you haven't. But I am not a Death Eater. I am not a servant of any Dark Lord. And I will never be."

She swept down the hallway to her room and threw shut the door. Lifting her trunk, she began packing as if she were returning to school. She would be, after a brief two weeks of living nowhere.

Two hours later, she stole out her window, carrying everything she could in her hands. Where would she go? Her owl sat on her shoulder–the cage had to be left behind–hooting softly. She nuzzled its soft feathers. "I know. We're homeless. Hermione is probably busy with You-Know-Who, I haven't a clue where Theresa lives, and there is no one else that I can stand around."

He hooted again and she grimaced. "I suppose it'll have to do." She raised her wand hand and before long, the Knight Bus came screeching to a halt in front of her.

"'Ello, I'm Stan Shunpike. Welcome t' the Knight Bus. Step on there. I'll take yer bags. Yer our only customer right now. Where ya headed?"

"The Malfoy Manor."