Chapter Five: Death Eater
Our family owl, Accio, landed on the Slytherin table. He dropped three letters from his beak. Two were plain white and addressed to Scorpius and myself. The other one was crimson red. Giving me what looked like a pitying glance, Accio flew out of the Great Hall.
Scorpius was looking at the Howler with pure torment in his gaze. It had now started skiing, sending plumes of grey smoke up to the roof. I elbowed him, aware that the entire Slytherin table was pointing and jeering.
“Open, it Scorpius,” I hissed. My twin didn’t twitch a muscle. “Scorp,” I said louder,” stop looking like you have been petrified.”
Scorpius reached one pale, trembling hand to the letter. Before he could touch it, however, the crimson rectangle split open. The Malfoy seal that had held it slowly dripped to the table, now a pile of hot wax.
My twin shrank as the letter rose into the air. The flaps of the letter rose revealed pointed white teeth, and gleaming black eyes.
“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.” Our grandfather’s cold voice was magnified thorough the Great Hall. All at once, the talking quieted down and all eyes turned to Scorpius.
“Explain. You are in Hufflepuff.” Each word was slow and gritty, like they were hard to get out. Scorpius slid down in his seat and turned a deep shade of pink.
“YOU ARE A WORTHLESS EXCUSE FOR AN HEIR! YOU HAVE INSULTED THE MALFOY NAME!” Lucias yelled. I winced for Scorpius’s sake, too easily imagining our grandfather standing in front of him, his fists balled up, and the Dark Mark bulging.
The letter came closer to Scorpius, and I grabbed his robes to keep him from sliding any further underneath the table.
“I HAVEN’T BEEN THIS ASHAMED SINCE DRACO MARRIED A MUGGLE-LOVER!” Now it was our grandmother, Narcissa yelling.
“AS SOON AS THAT ASTORIA HAD THE TWO OF YOU I KNEW THAT ONE OF YOU WOULD TURN OUT LIKE HER!”
Looking down at my housemates, I saw that they were doubling over with laughter. I felt my face grow pink like Scorpius’s.
They will not insult my family.
Grabbing my thirteen inch wand from the table, I ran my fingers over the holly and dragon core wand.
“You are no longer our grandson,” said both Lucias and Narcissa. There were muffled snorts from the Ravenclaw table, who loved seeing people making mistakes and getting in trouble as much as they loved solving riddles.
The Howler moved closer to Scorpius, and when it was an inch away from his face. Suddenly, the red paper turned back and dissolved into a pile of ashes and smoldering embers.
My fellow first years, Peter Nott laughed, deep and throaty like a dog. His bark broke the silence of the Hall, and soon cackles and giggles came from every House table.
Scorpius emerged from underneath the table, bushing ashes from his robes. He sat beside me, his head hanging.
“Does this mean that Mum and Dad have disowned me as well?” he whimpered.
I took a plump blueberry muffin from the table and took a bite. Rich, juicy flavor flooded into my mouth. I swallowed.
“Mum and Dad would never!” I said, looking at him. “They’re not cruel like Lucias and Narcissa. They love you, Scorp. What house your in doesn’t matter.” When he didn’t look convinced I slid the letter with his name on it towards him.
“Take a look. I’m pretty sure that they’ll tell you in your letter.”
Scorpius gingerly lifted the white envelope from the table and opened it, afraid that it may be enough Howler. I opened mine, and stroked the familiar penmanship with love.
Your father and I are so proud of you getting into Slytherin. Remember, though, stay true to who you are. You are our little girl, and we know that you’re very sweet and loving on the inside, if not the outside. Being in Slytherin is great, and it helps you gain knowledge and a stronger ambition. It can also change a person. Be careful. Hogwarts plays with your sanity sometimes.
Your father is anxious for his turn to write, so I’ll keep the rest short.
I hope that you are trying out for the Quidditch team. You are an excellent Beater, my dear, and should still try although girls usually aren’t Beaters. Do well in your school work, and don’t turn on your brother. He needs support now then ever.
I flipped to the back of the letter, where my father had written:
I’m very proud of you for making Slytherin. It is the best house to be in, and both your mother and I hope that you will find your path through it.
You know that, being the granddaughter and daughter of former Death Eaters, that you would face certain challenges. I know that there are many at Hogwarts who are against you coming there. Stay strong and don’t be afraid to break the rules. Fight back.
I love you very much, Draco Malfoy
Also, your grandparents are very angry about Scorpius. I am sorry for the Howler that you and your brother received today, but Accio had already taken off when I found out. I know Scorpius might not want to, but please come home for Christmas break— with Scorpius.
There was a breath of hot air on my shoulder. I looked up to see Peter Nott leaning over, trying to read Scorpius’s letter.
“Hey, Scorpion,” Nott said. “How does it feel to be a failure in the worst family of the entire Wizarding world?”
I pushed Nott hard in the chest, and he stumbled back into the wall, making the portrait of Cedric Diggory tilt.
“Go away Nott,” I growled, and was about to turn back as he said loudly,” You can’t push me around, Malfoy! Your idiot of a father tried that, and looked where it got him!”
In a flash of robes and blond hair both Scorpius and I whirled around and leapt of the bench. Drawing our wands, we pointed them, unwavering, in between his eyes.
“Mr and Ms. Malfoy— What in Merlin’s Beard are you doing?” The shriek came from the teacher’s table. We didn’t answer, so Professor Mcgonagall continued yelling” Put those wands down!”
I looked into Nott’s eyes.
“Don’t you ever make another crack about my family, Nott, or I’ll blast you into next week.”
He sneered pitifully. “Did you learn that from your Death Eater father?”
“You’re the one to talk,” Scorpius said. He edged his wand closer, pretending he was the one who actually knew magic. “Your grandfather was also a Death Eater.”
“Maybe he was,” Nott said. “But at least my entire family wasn’t bending on their knees in front of Voldemort.”
“Don’t call the Dark Lord that,” I snarled.
Nott’s eyes flashed. He wasn’t afraid of our wands anymore. “Only Death Eaters call him that. You must be Death Eaters as well. Where’s your Dark Mark, then?” He moved forward, grabbing Scorpius’s left arm.
I brought my wand down. Break the rules, Dad had said. I was sure doing that.
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