The Pure Blood's Task

Chapter 4

At the burrow the next few weeks pass quickly. I spend hours on end playing Quidditch with Ron, Hermione and Ginny, and if it weren't for the newspaper reportings of disappearances and killings, I'd be able to believe that Voldemort's return was no more than a nightmare.

The day after my sixteenth birthday, however, I am reminded that the peacefulness of the holiday can't last forever, as our new booklists arrive, and Mrs. Weasley begins making avid preparations to ensure the safety of our trip to Diagon Alley. I learn that both Florean Fortescue, the man who ran the ice cream place, and Ollivander, the wand-maker, are among those who have been reported missing. I wonder who else is gone.

On the day of our trip, Hagrid is asked to escort Ron, Hermione and I to buy our new things, as an added precaution. Although the streets are no less busy than before, the usual hustle and bustle and cheerful chattering has been replaced by a gloomy shuffle as groups of people move directly from place to place in solemn silence. The severity of the conditions the warding world has been reduced to leaves me glad of Hagrid's bulky protection.

We aim for Madam Malkin's first, to buy ourselves new robes, and Hagrid volunteers  to stand waiting outside.

"Migh' be a bit of a squeeze for me," he says. "Not ter worry, I'll be righ' by the entrance."

Hermione nods and the three of us troop into the shop, nearly wearing straight into a tall, blond haired not facing away from us. His body is lean yet muscular, and reminds me immensely of the Quidditch player from Slughorn's photo. The boy speaks, his voice clear and defined as he addresses Narcissa Malfoy standing before him.

"Mother, I don't need a guard any more!"

Mother? But then...

He turns around and I'm left face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. He narrows his eyes slightly as he recognises us and I notice that their silver shade only sharpens as he does so. I have to blink to be able to look away.

"Lucky us," his voice twists into a drawl. "The Weasel, Mudblood and Golden Boy have just walked in. I thought there was a smell." His cheekbones are high and strong, but his words have marred his looks. Ron has already drawn out his wand so I hastily follow suit, but before I can get it fully in the air Narcissa raises her hand.

"Put those away," she speaks coldly. "If you so much as threaten my son I will make sure it's the last thing you do."

I look cockily at Malfoy as she speaks. "Mumsie going to protect you? Like she protected your daddy?"

His face turns bright red and he trips over his robes. Ha! Not such a pretty pretty boy now! What?

Narcissa snarls, but rather than aiming it at me she's glaring at Ron's arm which is tensed defensively in front of Hermione.

"Well," she hisses, "now that we know who else shops here I think we'll take our business elsewhere." She grasps Malfoy by his left forearm and tugs him towards the door, his face screwing up in a wince as she does so.  She sends us a final dirty look as he opens the door for her. "Remember Draco, you know how the saying goes: the only thing worse than a blood traitor is a mudblood, and the only this worse than a mudblood is a..."

"Yes, mother, I know," his reply is suddenly meek, and as soon as they get outside I see him slip away from her and fade into the shadows. I wonder about his desperation to be alone, and I'm confused by the pained expression on his face as he left her.

Without really considering what I'm doing, I grab my invisibility cloak from my backpack and fling it over my head, slipping into the street and following Malfoy's blond hair as he heads through the groups of tightly knit shoppers. He turns down Knockturn Alley, and I quicken my pace - his legs are longer than mine, and I don't want to lose sight of him.

Unfortunately I do, and I stand mercifully hidden by my cloak at the end of the street, scanning the scarcely populated road for any sign of him.

A few minutes later I spy him exiting Borgin and Burke's, looking a curious combination of satisfied yet hesitant. He makes his way back to Diagon Alley, and I do so too, rejoining my friends back in Madam Malkin's. They're discussing Narcissa's impolite attitude, evidently unaware that I had gone.

What was that about? My thoughts turn to Malfoy. His detour is playing through my mind, and his deficiency of snide retorts when I insulted his mother earlier intrigue me.

"And what was that saying she was on about?" Hermione asks.

"That's some old saying, been passed down from generation to generation of pure-blood families. It goes; the only thing worse than a blood traitor is a mudblood, and the only thing worse than a mudblood is a... Well, you know...A person who shoots their quaffle in their own goal." It takes a moment but Hermione's face opens in comprehension at Ron's words.

Ouch. I wonder how many families believe that saying. Does Ron's?