Chapter 1: Draco

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Dinner that night was quiet. My father made no sound except for the chink of his silverware, and my mother was ill in bed. The house elves were silent, too, as they moved around the house. They were packing my trunk for school. I wondered if they would put any chocolate in there. I wasn't sure which one it was, but one of the elves kept putting chocolate in my trunk.

My father cleared his throat and I looked up at him. He looked like a king, sitting at the head of the table. The dark walls of the dining room made him stand out like a white statue, and as he spoke, a house elf rushed to tend to him.
"Draco," he said, "since you're leaving tomorrow, I'd like to have a word with you."
"Yes, father?"
"You already know this but I'm going to say it again. Suspicion is rising. The things discussed within these walls must stay here. Do you understand? Noone can be trusted. You can never know for sure if you're being listened to."
I nodded solemnly.
"Of course, father," I responded, and he gave me a curt nod in return. Then with a snap of his fingers the house elves began to clean up his place at the table. He rose, and for a moment he looked much older as the pale light from the fireplace cast gaunt shadows on his face. I watched him step over the darkened spot on the floor where Voldemort had killed the brown-haired woman yesterday. Remembering it made me feel sick. "Clean that up," I snapped once he had retreated up the stairs. An elf hurried forward and began trying to clear the spot. I didn't stay to watch.

Striding along the hallway, I paused at the door to my parents' room. Glancing across to my father's study, I saw that the door was firmly shut. I turned the handle to the bedroom slowly, so as not to wake my mother, but when I entered the room I saw she was already awake. Moonlight drifted in through the window. She seemed lost in thought. I cleared my throat, and she jumped. When she turned to look at me, I was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
"Mother, what's wrong?"
"Nothing Draco, nothing," she said quickly, wiping her eyes roughly. "Just... Well, I'm just a bit sad you're leaving tomorrow."
That wasn't the reason of course, but I nodded anyway. We have an unspoken agreement not to talk about my task, so I just said, "don't be sad, I'll write."

She smiled up at me briefly, then turned away. I watched her reflection in the window as it fell again into one of fear and misery. I wanted to stay and tell her it would be alright, that I would be able to kill him and that I would save our family name. But I couldn't make the words come out, so I just turned and walked out, closing the door behind me. Then I walked to my room, sat on my bed, and went over the plan a dozen times in my head.

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