Memoirs of a Serpent's Son

Memoirs of a Serpent’s Son

--Age 12 –part 3

Christmas

I’ve stayed at Hogwarts this Christmas. I don’t really want to go into why, but I don’t mind either way. Many of the students went home because they’re scared of the Chamber and the monster that’s going to come get them in their sleep. They sound like a bunch of toddlers afraid of the monster in their closet or something. You’d never know the majority of them were wizards.

Anyway, I’m generally left here alone with Crabbe, Goyle and Potter….and Weasel and the mudblood but again, they don’t matter. Still, Potter is here. That should make things interesting. At least I’ll have someone to taunt for the next two weeks. I won’t have to resort to other…less productive endeavors.

Scarhead (my new name for him), however, has been keeping a suspiciously low profile for the past few days. I’d hardly seen hide nor hair of him, not that I normally see his hide, nor do I want to. And his hair…. Constantly a mess. It’s as though he’s never heard of a brush or a mirror. And those are muggle things.

In any case, I left dinner early today. Crabbe and Goyle stayed to stuff themselves with the Christmas goodies. I would complain more about their horrendous eating habits, but if they weren’t as big as they are, well they’d be useless to me.

I went back to my room to ruminate over what Potter could possibly be up to that would keep him in hiding for the past little while. I didn’t come up with anything meaningful, and I refuse to believe that the reason he’s holed up somewhere is because he’s the heir of Slytherin and has been having long conversations with his ickle monster-kins.

No I am NOT jealous.

There is nothing to be jealous of.

Nothing.

I lounged about in the common room for a while before I got terribly bored and decided to go find Crabbe and Goyle. Honestly, you’d think they could tell for themselves when enough is enough, but apparently their tiny brains cannot work that quickly.

I found them down in the dungeons. They were lost, as usual. The head-Weasel was talking to them. I don’t know what business he thinks he has down in the dungeons and I told him so. He didn’t appreciate that. Prefect, he claims. What does that mean to me? Nothing. It’s just suspicious to be walking around in an area of the castle that you are not accustomed to.

I took Crabbe and Goyle back to the common-room but something strange hit me. They looked odd…in the way they walked and acted…the way they talked and Goyle was wearing glasses. I stared at him a moment and asked him why. When he answered I got even more suspicious. He doesn’t know how to read. I know he doesn’t because I’ve heard him try.

But I let it go. If he was trying to learn without my knowledge, then good for him. Let him try. I moved on.

We went into the common room and I showed them the newspaper clipping Father had sent me about that fool Arthur Weasley. I thought it was wonderfully funny but Crabbe and Goyle didn’t laugh right away. In fact, Crabbe looked tense… like he was about to explode or something.

They finally laughed and I sat back, wondering what had gotten into them. I surveyed them carefully as we talked, I don’t think they noticed because they never notice anything, but there was definitely something wrong. Perhaps some bad food, of some sort.

They asked me AGAIN about the Chamber. Claimed that I MUST have some idea who is behind it all, when I went on about how I can’t believe people think Potter is the heir. I rolled my eyes and snapped at them. I hate it when they do that; I can’t spend my whole life repeating myself to them whenever they’ve forgotten some key piece of information. They should get a Remembrall or something, like that dolt Longbottom has.

What I did tell them, however, was that all I knew was that the last time the Chamber opened was fifty years ago and that time around, a mudblood actually died. I told them happily that I think it should be Granger and that, somehow, did not sit well with them. Something about a stomach ache, they claimed. I eyed them darkly. I don’t appreciate being lied to and I would find out why.

We talked about the raids and such as well. I may have said something about how Father has a secret stash of dark materials under the drawing room floor and then Crabbe erupted with a strange sound and he started to change.

They looked at each other and bolted out of the common room. They said something about getting something for his stomach ache but by then I knew. Crabbe’s hair had started to turn orange.

I waited a few moments then bolted after them. I followed them until I got to a girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It was no longer Crabbe and Goyle that I was looking at, but Potter and the Weasel in Slytherin robes.

Something about seeing Potter in those robes struck me, but I’ve no explanation as to why. I didn’t have long to think on it either. I rushed back to the common room and tried to go back over everything that had been said.

I was mildly amused that Potter thought I had information about the Chamber, more so than Dumbledore perhaps. He probably thought I was the heir of Slytherin. I smiled about that for a while.

Just the idea of Potter placing me as the heir when the whole rest of the school thinks it’s him. He’s got a closer hit then the other idiots do, but he’s still off. I wish I was the heir. Then I’d have full control and I could get Potter back finally… I could get him.

Something does bother me though. I did mention the thing about the drawing room and where Father keeps his dark objects. I was a little worried at what that might do, but I’d simply write to Father and have that all sorted out. He would punish me again, but it would be worth it. He would realize that too, in the end.

******

Valentine’s Day –Spring term

It was the most disgusting display today. Without a shadow of a doubt. Lockhart decided to spread the Valentine’s cheer about the school and hired little gnome-like things or whatever to go around giving people singing valentines. I got about twelve of them, and I’m quite sure that eleven of them were from Pansy alone.

Eventually the little creature got tired of singing to me so I threatened him if he didn’t shut it and leave me alone. He happily went on his way to the next unsuspecting victim.

Walking down the hall, however, I saw something a little bit more amusing. Potter was wrestling one of the creatures for his bag. It split and let his things scatter about the hallway while the gnome-thing started singing him the more revolting song I’ve ever heard. With lines like “he’s really divine”, I just about gagged myself. I picked up one of Potter’s books before he could get to it himself, mind you. I tried to stop myself from smiling at the intense redness that spread across his face.

The book I’d picked up was what looked like his journal. I laughed and asked him about his precious diary but he stole it away and stomped off. I frowned and spat at the little she-Weasel that Potter didn’t like her Valentine, just to get the frustration out on someone.

I cursed myself later for not keeping his journal. I wanted to know what’s written in it. What does Saint Potter write about in his diary? Unless he’s writing his own autobiography to later sell and sign copies of….

I want to know if he writes about me, is really what I care about. I want to know if, perhaps, he has time for me in his writing, because he doesn’t seem to have time for me anywhere else. I want to know if I have an important enough effect on him so that he writes about me in his journal.

Not that I really care if I have an effect on him. Not that it matters.

More importantly, though, why should Potter get a Valentine? I’m almost surprised he didn’t get a mass-Valentine dump. Surely the whole school has enough love for him to send him one of those. Bloody prat.

He shouldn’t be getting Valentine’s from anyone. That she-Weasel can’t honestly think that she has a chance with the Almighty Harry Potter, can she?

What a fool.

She should already know that he’s untouchable….the little git.

I hate him…

******

Alright so Granger finally got hit by the damned monster from the Chamber and yet she is not dead. Pity. At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone out-doing me in my exams. But I suppose that either way, she’s out of the picture for now at least.

The school has finally come to its senses and realized that Potter is NOT the heir of Slytherin. It’s about bloody time!! I desperately want to say “I told you so” but somehow, it’s just not strong enough.

In any case, with all this, my father managed to get all the school governors to sign a petition to get Dumbledore kicked out of the school. He was put on probation or suspended or something to that effect because they felt that he is not doing enouth to protect the students from this danger. That and the Minister for Magic demanded that Hagrid be sent away because the last time, he was the one who supposedly opened the Chamber. Like I believe that. I don’t think that anyone can honestly think that oaf did something so great as open the Chamber of Secrets, let alone be heir of Salazar Slytherin. It’s as though the masses are just getting more and more stupid with every passing moment.

Nevertheless, he’s been sent to Azkaban until the person is caught. I bet he’ll enjoy himself thoroughly. I hear it’s quite nice in early spring.

Pfft.

The problem with all of this is that Potter knows that my father is the one who got Dumbledore kicked out and now he’s walking around brooding. I can literally feel the hatred RADIATE from him whenever I walk back. It’s a rather strange feeling to have that kind of hatred directed at you.

I suppose I didn’t help the matter by boasting about Father’s success in ejecting Dumbledore from the picture. Potter did not seem to appreciate that and I think I may simply have added fuel to the fires.

I just don’t get it though. How can Potter honestly care about everyone, EVERYONE but me? He can care about all the ruddy Hufflepuffs who hated him and thought that he was the heir. He can care about the foolish Creevey kid that followed him around like a dog with a camera. He can care about a random Ravenclaw he’s never met, nor talked to before in his life, but he cannot, even for a moment, pretend to care about me.

I’m sure that, if given the option, if he had to chose between saving my life and saving You-Know-Who’s life, he’d pick the latter. He’d just let me burn or drown or whatever and save his mortal enemy over me. I’m sure of it.

I should ask him one of these days, just to see what he says.

I mean it’s not as though I begged my father to get Dumbledore kicked out JUST to piss Potter off. I had nothing to do with the whole ordeal, contrary to what I’ve been telling people. Honestly, he should learn to read between the lines there. Potter needs a lesson in social literacy.

******
The following written in Invisible Ink

It’s currently 3:27 in the morning and I cannot sleep. I was asleep before. But then I had the most disconcerting dream and jolted awake. Now I cannot sleep because the damn dream is stuck in my mind. So, I’ve decided to write it down and hopefully, then it will leave me alone and I’ll be able to catch at least a few more hours of my precious slumber. You don’t look as good as I do with lack of sleep, believe you me.

So I dreamt of the Quidditch game again. I mean for the first time ever. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match. It’s the only one that matters, really.

I saw the whole thing play out again. I saw Potter dance around in the air, trying to escape the bludger. I saw him get hit and felt something like a punch to my chest. I saw his arm break from the impact and then I saw him fly towards me again.

But this time, the bludger behind him disappeared and his arm seemed to heal itself.

He was flying directly at me, like he had before, with his arm outstretched to capture the Snitch at my ear. I couldn’t look away from his face. I stared into his eyes and he stared into mine. I waited for him to fly right by me but that didn’t happen this time.

Instead, he flew right INTO me.

It was like being hit by a cannon or something. It was as though he’d hurled himself off his own broom and right into me. The force of it threw me from my broom as well and we started falling backwards, through miles of air and nothingness.

He was holding onto me so tightly it was almost painful, as though he refused to let me go. Or perhaps I was holding on to him. I don’t know, I just remember staring at him as we fell, my face blank and confused. Nothing was said and everything seemed to stand still –we were the only ones moving.

Then I woke up.

Shouldn’t read anything into that. It likely doesn’t mean anything but at least now that I’ve written it down I can try to get some rest. Ah well.

*****
Near end of term

BLOODY HELL. I want to kill him. I want to take him out to the Forbidden Forest and push him up against a tree and just beat him, forget the damn wand just this once.

Potter ALWAYS has to be the hero! ALWAYS. No exceptions, ever, right??

He took the Weasel down into the Chamber of Secrets –which he found and magically OPENED with his precious PARSELTONGUE. Then he goes about saving the foolish little she-Weasel and defeats Salazar Slytherin’s precious monster and DESTROYS You-Know-Who AGAIN. I don’t know how the hell he managed that, but here we are. He did it.

I want to hit him.

Not only did he do this though. He didn’t only play the hero and save the day again so that the world can swoon over him and grovel at his feet, kissing the ground he stands on, but he had to go on a roll and jut destroy a whole bunch of other things while he was at it.

He got Dumbledore to come back and got my father SACKED as School Governor. HE GOT MY FATHER FIRED. There is no way. Malfoys are never sacked. NEVER. Not from ANYTHING.

And then, juuuuuuuust to put the icing on the proverbial cake, he somehow hoodwinks my father into giving Dobby (the bloody house-elf) a SOCK that he took from his OWN FOOT and lost us our SERVANT.

Do you know what that means???

That means that I will be forced to do the cooking and cleaning until we find ourselves a suitable replacement, because otherwise we will be the LAUGHING STOCK of the Wizarding world.

This is not fair. He is NOT allowed to get away with everything!! He has NO RIGHT to go and shove his nose into other people’s business and WRECK their families! He has NO RIGHT to force manual labour upon me! AND WORSE he has NO RIGHT to take any kind of pride in it!!

I’m hyperventilating. Potter does this to me. It kills me that he’s the only little worm on the face of the planet that can get this much of a rise out of me. I am controlled and reserved and REFORMED. I am always in control of the situation and my own reactions, Potter is NOT ALLOWED to take that away from me!

He will pay dearly for this. I don’t care how. I don’t care when, but he will pay. I will make sure of it.

All I have to do now is face that damn smirk he’s going to have planted on his face for the rest of the term.

And stop myself from jumping him every time I see it, anyway.

At least I get a nice birthday present for all my suffering. Dumbledore cancelled exams so I get to relax in June. I’m turning.

Funny little number, that.

-----IIIIIIII-----

A/N: So that’s the end of second year. Don’t worry too much about him, thirteen will prove to be a very good number for Draco indeed...I think, but 15 and 16 might not be so pleasant. Hahah So we see here the first appearance of Draco’s over-active subconscious that likes to mess with him, I hope you enjoyed it! I will be adding more and more ‘extra bits’ into the chapters as time goes on, mainly because Draco gets older and becomes slightly less omnipresent in the later books (what with all the other things going on and all) so I can have some fun there!

Thanks for the wonderful reviews and please keep them coming! They make me so happy! ^_^