Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

Memoirs of a Serpent’s Son

--Age 12—

Summer

I am bored out of my mind. Father’s made me do a lot of reading during the holidays so far. It’s honestly more work than school. Most of the things I’m reading I don’t even fully understand. I’ve no idea what half the spells are or how to use them, let alone why I’d ever use them. That and there has been volume after volume about blood and the importance of blood in wizards. I don’t really care for blood that much. It makes me feel slightly queasy at the thought of it, but Father insisted.

I do have a better understanding as to why Father says Muggle-born witches and wizards are so inferior. According to the books, they are. Though, they were written ages ago, and I’m sure they’ve discovered many new things since then, Father ordered me to operate under the belief that Muggle-born witches and wizards are unworthy. He called them ‘mudbloods’. He said that I should use that expression from now on because it’s the truth. I don’t think I’m supposed to use in front of teachers and all, since that will likely get me expelled from what I know of the meaning behind the word, but I suppose they wouldn’t mind in Slytherin if I used it. They hardly mind anything I do. Someone even called me a ‘prince’ before the end of the year.

I think it was that Pansy girl. Father advised me to keep her close, for various reasons. I shrugged and agreed. I suppose she could be useful. In any case, it pleased me to be called a prince. I wonder what Potter would say to that. I bet the idea would make his blood boil, to think that I could be royalty.

I like that image. Potter writhing in anger but unable to act on it.

In any case, I’m sick of all the reading. I’ve finished most of the books anyway. I’ve even finished the homework that was assigned to us over the holidays. THAT I cannot get over. I thought they were called holidays for a reason. Not that I particularly mind, it gave me something to do.

Otherwise I’ve spent most of my time thinking about Potter and what I can do to him this year. Every time I think of him, my muscles tense and I find it hard to breathe. There, it’s happening now, that’s why my handwriting is getting shaky. Hold on.

………………….

Alright, I’ve calmed down.

The strangest thing happened earlier. It was actually the reason I started writing again, but I guess I got carried away in my boredom.

I overheard my father discussing some ‘plan’ that they are going to ‘put into motion’ very soon. I’ve no clue what they were talking about. I don’t even know who the person was. It was likely McNair, mind you. He doesn’t often discuss business affairs with Crabbe or Goyle. Normally he just tells them what he needs done and it gets done.

The reason I’d listened, though, was because I saw our House-elf –Dunderhead or Dingbat… some strange name like that –hovering at the door, shaking like a leaf. He backed away from the crack in the door very slowly, looking as though he’d just seen a ghost (not that that isn’t likely, there are ghosts that show up in the Manor on occasion) and I called out to him. He had no business eaves-dropping on my father’s conversations.

I didn’t have to tell him to do anything, mind you. He punished himself for it, knocking his head against one of the stone columns in the hall. Then he disappeared.

What worries me more is that later that day, Mother called for him and he didn’t come. He couldn’t be found. In the meantime, I had to do the dishes. Bloody elf.

An hour or two later, we found him scrubbing the floors in the kitchen. He was wearing new bandages over his ears where he looked as though he’d burnt them. When we asked where he had been he responded that he was in the deeper levels, underneath the Manor, cleaning the secret rooms, as he had been instructed.

My parents seemed to accept this since the rooms he was referring to were in fact spotless when they checked them, but I didn’t take his word for it.

I caught him and tried to get the truth out of him. I know he was lying. It was in his big green eyes. I threatened him and claimed I’d tell my father he was lying but all he told me was that he’d warned someone about the danger. That was it. I’m a little surprised he told me that much, but something else is bothering me.

What danger? And even if there were danger, why should he not warn me? I’m his Master’s son. I should be worthy of his warning. He should seek to protect me too, shouldn’t he? Without us, he’d have no work and no place to live. He’d have no food or anything. House-elves are only useful when they are employed. He’s bound to the Malfoy family until our family line stops or he’s given clothes.

Stupid creature. I’m getting myself worked up over this. I need to calm down.

*******

We went shopping today. Father took me to Knockturn Alley before we went to get my school supplies because he needed to sell some of the dark objects we have. He said he cannot afford to be suspected of anything by the Ministry fools. He said we don’t have to worry because the officials who do the raids are fools and couldn’t find what they were looking for if it hit them in the face. But we sold some things anyway.

He took me to Borgin’s shop. I’d met him before. He’s an oily salesman and Father says that he speaks poorly about us behind our backs but that’s to be expected of people who are jealous of us. I looked around the shop a bit while he did his business. I had such a strange feeling…

It was as though someone was watching me, the whole time I was in there. I can’t explain it, and I couldn’t find the source of it either. There was a tension on the air though and I know it was directed at me. I didn’t like the feeling.

That and Father scolded me again for not getting the top marks in my grade on my last exams. It’s not my bloody fault that Granger is obsessive, with her nose always in a book. I did get second highest marks in the grade, but that doesn’t mean a thing. I might as well have failed the whole year, the way he puts it. Malfoys never come in second. I tried to explain to him before that Malfoys had never come in contact with a Potter before, either, and he didn’t appreciate that comment.

I paid dearly for it, but I don’t really want to talk about those kinds of scars. Malfoys never speak negatively about their own kin. It’s just unheard of.

Anyway, he told me that I should at least pretend to be kind to Potter. He said that I could get myself into a lot of trouble for speaking unkindly of him. I don’t really care. He’s not so special. Why should he get special treatment and I get none? There is simply no reason for it.

Whatever.

We went to Flourish and Blott’s afterwards, to get my books. The famous Gilderoy Lockhart was in there, signing copies of his books and there were people waiting in line for what seemed like miles. There was press there too of course. And then the inevitable happened.

Lockhart pawned Potter out of the crowd and got him to pose for pictures. There was an uproar of amazement as the two blundering idiots smiled for the pictures. Honestly, how great can that article be? The famous Harry Potter buys school books and runs into another famous wizard. HURRAH that’s front page material RIGHT THERE.

He tried to escape after that. I stopped him. I confronted him and told him what I though. I honestly didn’t say anything untrue. It’s not a lie that he can’t even walk into a bookshop without making the front page, what had just happened was proof of that. I don’t know what got the little she-Weasel all worked up, but she tried (poorly I might add) to defend him.

I happily made a joke about him having a girlfriend but honestly there was a strange kind of pang in my chest from that. I didn’t like that this little worthless Weasel could be so close to him. Not that I really care about him or anything. Nothing like that.

No.

Anyway, somehow my father got involved and then so did Arthur Weasley. They actually got into a brawl. A fist fight right there in public, in front of all those people. How uncivilized are they??

Father was bruised after that. I watched it happen in shock. I tried quickly to calculate my chances of coming out the victor if I had to take on all the kids. I realized quite quickly that there were no chances at all. If I had to take on all the Weasley children, and then Potter as well, I think I might have died. At least if it was a fist fight. I mean I’m not useless at hand-to-hand combat, but I much prefer a wand, thankyouverymuch.

Thankfully it broke up after that. I wanted to kill Potter for what a scene he’d caused. I don’t know how it was his fault, after all that, but it was. I know it was. It’s always Potter’s fault. I desperately wanted to grab a fistful of his hair and throw him against the book case and pin him there.

Or just punch him. Yeah punch him… forget the other thing.

…………..

Anyway, I can’t wait to get back to Hogwarts. At least then I have better chances of taking Potter on without the interference of parents. And I have a nickname for Granger now…. I found out that her parents are Muggles. I’m rather pleased Father taught me that word.

I also have a wonderful little surprise for Potter when we get back.

*******

Fall Term

Honestly, this has got to stop. I can’t go anywhere without facing the incessant ravings of Potter-fans. He’s got people fawning over him from every angle. It’s rather sickening really. It’s as though he can do no wrong.

He doesn’t take the train to Hogwarts. No, because Harry Potter is just too famous to travel amongst common folk. So he takes a flying car to get there. And then he crashes the damn thing along with Weasel. He crashes it into the Whomping Willow, he was seen by Muggles on the way here, and yet what does he get for that? Nothing. Detention and points.

But they can’t expel Saint Potter, no. Never. He can’t suffer too much now can he? If I had pulled a stunt like that, I would have been kicked out faster than you can say ‘unfair’.

But it gets worse. I thought that at least Weasel would have to deal with the embarrassment of getting sent a Howler. Honestly, his mother’s voice is so shrill I would have been intimidated had it been directed at me.

It gave me a wonderfully satisfied feeling inside when he got that thing. Just to listen to him get properly scolded for doing something so stupid. Potter still got nothing, mind you, but at least someone was paying for it.

But then Potter gets more fame. He’s got groupies now. This little blonde kid in Gryffindor follows him around like a shadow with a camera in hand. It’s as though he’s got his own little paparazzi to catch his brilliant heroic moments on film. He was even asking for a signed photo from Potter, the little idiot.

That was the last straw for me.

Everyone loves Potter. Everyone. No exceptions. It’s not possible. He’s got everyone eating out of the palm of his hand and can get away with anything just because he accidentally survived You-Know-Who’s attack. He wasn’t even in CONTROL of that! It’s not like he planned it!

He’s famous for having done nothing and he’s lapping it up. He steps into the role of the hero sooooo perfectly. Has time for everyone and their problems. He comes like a knight in shining armor to save the day and then waits for the parade to honour him but he cannot spare a moment’s thought or a second glance for me.

Honestly, nothing. He gives everything and anything to complete strangers who don’t know a thing about him, who’ve never talked to him before, but not me. No. Draco Malfoy, who has known him for over a year and has said more than three words to him, doesn’t get a moment. Nothing.

I want to strangle him. I want to hit him or just…. I don’t know. LOOK, he’s TAKING my WORDS from me! The frustration is just TOO GREAT. I’ve never been speechless before for anything. This is what the little prat does to me.

******

Well there was a tiny little battle won today. Though I have to admit, it wasn’t really the win I was looking for.

Flint caught the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain –Oliver Wood, I think –at the pitch today. Got to kick them off for the Slytherin team to play instead. Snape signed a letter okaying it. I was waiting behind the rest of the team, to make my entrance of course.

I’m the new Seeker for Slytherin. What bothered me was the expression on Potter’s face. It was shocked, yes, which was pseudo-positive, but he was surprised. He was genuinely surprised that I had been made Seeker. I can’t understand why. He’d seen me fly before. I’m a damn good flyer. I’m light and quick and I’m a good player. No…. I’m a fantastic player.

Yet he couldn’t believe I had been made part of the team? I don’t understand that. Then the Weasel and mudblood came down the pitch, to stick their noses in business unrelated to them, just as I showed Potter the generous donation my father made to the team. He gave every player a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, which outstrips the old model considerably.

Then the mudblood made a comment I could not stand for. She claimed that I had bought my way onto the team, suggesting that I have no talent. I wanted to kill her right then and there. She had no right saying that to me. She’d never seen me play before and knows nothing practical about what it takes to fly. Nothing. She is no judge of me and I shall not tolerate disrespect from someone beneath me.

So I told her what her new nickname was.

That didn’t go over so well. The reactions almost made me want to laugh, but I was a little surprised. Most of the Gryffindor team didn’t appreciate it. At least the ones who understood. Potter gave me the most priceless look. He was lost. He had no idea what it meant and I couldn’t help but give him a little smirk.

Then Flint pushed me back to stop the twin Weasels from pummeling me. This was not what I had expected from that simple comment but it did fascinate me. Weasel tried to jinx me after that. ‘Eat slugs’ he said. I laughed because his broken wand backfired and he started spitting up slugs instead. It was quite the sight to see, but Potter and the mudblood immediately ran off with him down to the oaf’s hut, I think.

He gave me an unpleasant look –still mixed with confusion mind you. I stood there quiet for a while, watching his back as he ran down the grounds until he was out of sight.

Still not a moment for me.

It didn’t matter how well I did in practice that day, that look stuck in my mind and I can’t even concentrate right now.

----IIIIII----

A/N: Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews! I’m going to have to chop the second and third book into a more chapters than the first, mind you. I’m in university and living in residence right now so I don’t have my books with me. I only have the third actually X_X haha so I’ll be posting the fourth book at or right after Easter, then I have exams. So I’ll try to make these chapters long enough and interesting, to make up for it. Also I’m having lots of fun with Draco’s little impulses; I hope you all don’t mind! I will be getting into more *ahem* graphic stuff when he gets a little older. Again, love the reviews, they make me write and squee!

Also, was wondering if anyone had any thoughts on what age sexual maturity is for boys? Or should be. I'm working with a plan but just wondering ^^

As a side note, one more song that I think goes well with where this is going is the song “Pretty When You Cry” by VAST.