The Untold Perspective of the Prince of Snakes

Chapter 1: Owl Post or the Lack Thereof

Draco Malfoy was a very unusual boy in many ways. For one thing, he was the son and heir of the entire Malfoy fortune and estate. For another, he was doted on constantly by his mother and berated as much by his father. And he was also sitting alone in his room in the manor, watching the rain fall in the summer, feeling unresolved and conflicted in the cold as the night grew older.

     The night had reached its peak, and he was lying on his back on the silk sheets, thinking of all the things that had transpired in the last two years. He had been excited to go to Hogwarts, to be sorted into Slytherin like his father, and to go to classes to explore the areas of magic, all in which Draco excelled in. More so was he excited to play Quidditch and fly around the grounds of Hogwarts, alone swooshing away with the forest and the lakes with no care in the world.

     His unresolvedness started with regards to his friends: Crabbe and Goyle. Although the two were loyal and as helpful as they could be, Draco felt they weren't enough companionship for him. They were perfect as henchmen or as followers to do his bidding, yet they were never truly Draco's friends. Should Draco have more choices than those two for friendship, he would have gone so already. Yet he had none; and this realization made him gloomier than before.

     "At least no Owls would get lost travelling in this storm," he thought.

     He was confounded even further because of Harry James Potter. His memory started back in their first year, with the discarded handshake, filling Draco with humiliation and anger. How could Harry freaking Potter have the nerve to refuse the friendship a Malfoy offered? He could not bear it; it cost Draco a few weeks of wounded pride that year, and it still haunts him to date. He blamed Weasley for poisoning Potter's head with lies. Draco knew his parents were bad, but surely he wasn't as bad of a person as they were?

     None of the Owls that got delivered to Malfoy Manor were for Draco, and he was not surprised by that fact at all. No one would write to him, nobody.

     All summer, the only people he had for company were his mother and father, and that was not an enjoyable experience. Lucius was always in the Ministry, working hard and defending himself from the accusations of being a spy for Lord Voldemort. The incident with the Chamber of Secrets had died down but only just. A pack of Owls fly in every morning to question and monitor Lucius in hi daily activities. This reprimand might enforce other people to behave better and act more kindly, but not Lucius Malfoy. All this made him more irritated and angry that any attempts to conversation - or anything really - be it his wife or son, was met with at slam of a door or a disgusted face and the flourish of a black cape.

     Draco's mother, however, was better with regards to her levels of irritability. True, she was calmer and more composed than her husband, but Draco could not talk to her nor do anything with her. Narcissa was not the companion Draco needed, or frankly wanted.

     "Draco, dear, help me go through the jewelry. They need be reorganized or your father will throw a fit like he always does."

     "No thanks, mother, I'll be in my room."

     And thus went Draco's entire summer: saying no to his mother (who should not be discredited for a lack of trying) and her odd requests and saying nothing to his father whom he saw less and less around the house.

     One unsuspecting night after dinner, an Owl came. He was  confused, not because of his father who with one look at the envelope threw it on the floor and stormed out of the room, but because he didn't think anyone would write to him.

     "Your post, sir," said the house elf. Draco took it wordlessly and put it in the pocket of his robes and went to open it in the library. He held his breath and slowly put it under the light of the lamp to read it.

     It was a letter from Hogwarts. It read:

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

     Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station , platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven  o'clock.

     Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.

     A list of books for next year is enclosed.

Yours sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

     "Stupid Hogwarts," Draco said harshly replacing the letter in his pockets. He'd ask his mother to sign it tomorrow.

     He went back to his room, lay on his bed. Looking around his room, he saw his trunk, unpacked and empty with only his emerald scarf poking out the corner. He took it out and wore it; he had forgotten how warm and comfortable it was. The rain was falling again. Draco lay back down cozy with a thought contrary to his sentiments earlier:

  "I miss Hogwarts."

     He closed his eyes, slightly happier than he was before and more envious of the Owl who delivered his letter, who would be back at the castle much sooner than he would be.