The Beauty of Grey: The Bitterness Inside

Chapter 8 - Growing

“Hopeless time to roam
The distance to your home
Fades away to nowhere
How much are you worth
You can't come down to earth
You're swelling up, you're unstoppable.”
- ‘Newborn’ – Muse


When it was morning, and the sound of the other boys in his dormitory getting ready for the day woke him, Draco was relieved. He was haunted by Umbridge and Potter in his half-awake dreams the entire night. His father was there occasionally also, saying random things, some positive, some showing his disappointment with his son.

He got up groggily, knowing that this day was probably going to involve a major headache.

At the breakfast table that morning it took no time at all for the rumours about the previous evening to spread, and once again Draco was amazed at the inability of Hogwarts students to keep anything to themselves (with exception of the Slytherins, sometimes). After Draco had left Potter in the hands of Umbridge, it seemed that they proceeded to Dumbledore’s office where many interesting things happened. The events, as Draco pieced them together from many different sources, were this: In Dumbledore’s office, Potter was accused of illegal activity in front of the Minister and all his tag-alongs, Marietta – the one who tipped Umbridge off – suddenly denied everything, Dumbledore took responsibility for the illegal group deeming Potter innocent, and that Dumbledore disappeared from the castle in order to avoid an arrest. And then the news of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Eight reached them. Umbridge was now Headmistress. Draco cringed at the news.

In Arithmancy, Draco waited in bated breath for Astoria to show up. She walked in looking, not at her shoes, but her eyes immediately searched his. She widened her eyes, and as she sat down next to him she said, ‘Can you believe it?’

‘No,’ Draco said plainly.

‘I was right about the Defense group then, but I don’t know if Dumbledore was behind it. Anyway, I am not looking forward to a Hogwarts where that woman is our Headmistress, it could be unbearable,’ she said in a rushed whisper.

Draco just nodded.

‘I heard you caught Harry,’ she said.

‘I did,’ Draco said.

‘You didn’t say anything, did you? About our conversation?’ she said cautiously.

‘No,’ Draco said earnestly, looking at her. ‘Marietta Edgecomb was the one that tipped Umbridge off, apparently she was part of the group.

She was clearly thinking very hard, she was shaking her head absent-mindedly.

As usual, having a nice conversation during Arithmancy was almost impossible. They were revising before the Easter holiday came, so it was now the time to get something if you happened to miss it.

During lunch that afternoon, Draco’s eagle owl came discreetly to his table, politely holding his leg out, to which a note was tied. Draco took it, gave the owl a piece of his lunch, and stuck the note in his pocket without reading it, knowing that it probably from his father.

Later, when he was done eating, he walked out to the Entrance Hall and slid behind the Dungeon’s door.
Draco,

I got news today from the Minister for Magic himself that you had aided him and Professor Umbridge in the capture of Harry Potter. He seemed immensely pleased with you.


Well done, Draco.
Father.


Just as he had the note back in his pocket Crabbe and Goyle came through the door.

‘Draco,’ Goyle said. ‘Look, Crabbe’s boils are almost completely gone.’

‘Yeah, improvement,’ Draco said absently.

He wondered what the Minister was playing at.

And then in the moment of silence, he overheard a part of the Golden-Trio’s conversation.

‘... over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old-‘ It was Granger.

‘Now, do you really want to finish that sentence, Granger,’ Draco said as he slipped back into the Entrance Hall, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. He noticed that Ernie Macmillan was with them. Well, three prefects together, insulting the Headmistress. ‘Afraid I’m going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.’

‘You can’t take points from fellow prefects, Malfoy,’ Ernie said.

Draco rolled his eyes. ‘I know prefects can’t dock points from each other, but members of the Inquisitorial Squad-‘

‘The what?’ Granger asked.

‘The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger,’ he said pointing at his silver ‘I’ badge. ‘A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points... so, Granger, I’ll have five from you for being rude about out new Headmistress. Macmillan, five for contradicting me. Five because I don’t like you, Potter. Weasley, your shirt’s untucked, so I’ll have another five for that. Oh yeah, I forgot, you’re a Mudblood, Granger, so ten off for that.’

Draco saw as they all narrowed their eyes at him. Weasley reached for his wand, but Granger stopped him simply saying, ‘Don’t.’

‘Wise move, Granger,’ Draco said. ‘New Head, new times. Be good now, Potty, Weasel King,’ and then he strode away with Crabbe and Goyle following him.

Draco felt that his stepping-on-Potter-duty was done for a while.

The letter his father wrote kept bugging him the whole day. He wondered what was really going on, because all of a sudden Draco felt like he didn’t know as much as he thought he did. He felt like his father and his mother was keeping information from him, and Draco didn’t know if he wanted to know what that information was, and whether he would rather remain blissfully ignorant.

In the middle of lunch, not only Draco but the hole school was surprised when thousands of explosions, bursts of colour, loud noises filled the Entrance Hall. For a moment, Draco grabbed his wand, convinced they were being attacked, but when a bright pink sparkle flew over his head yelling, ‘Poooooo,’ Draco stuck his wand back in his belt.

The fireworks extravaganza soon spilled into next rooms, running amok through the school. The students were all jumping around, chasing, or running away from the huge cartwheels, spiralling lights and golden sparkly Hippogriffs. The teachers, everyone but Umbridge, seemed mildly amused. Umbridge, though, looked like she was going nuts. Draco knew that look. She wasn’t in control, and she didn’t know what to do to get back into control. Her wide toad-eyes were looking around the spectacle like a caged animal. She soon had her wand out, and with the pretty much useless help of Filch started attacking the fireworks, which, more often than not, did not have the desired effect.

Draco was probably supposed to be helping getting rid of the fireworks, as a valued member of the Inquisitorial Squad, but he felt that his capture of Potter should suffice for a few more days, so he sat back and watched the mayhem with a smile on his face, especially when he saw that Astoria and Kim were running up and down the aisles between the House tables. He saw one particularly large red dragon shaped sparkle chase Astoria. Her eyes went wide, and she ran, and in a surprising, calculated move, dove under the Hufflepuff table, leaving the dragon to chase Eloise Midgeon.

Draco pitied the instigators of this riot. No doubt they would pay.


That evening in the common room, after most of the uproar had died down, Draco was reading through his essay, curled up on the couch in front of the fire, when Blaise came through the portrait hole.

‘Dude, have you seen Montague?’ Blaise was looking around the room, like Montague might be hiding under the rug.

‘No,’ Draco said.

‘I think he’s missing, yeah?’ Blaise said, sitting down on the other couch.

‘Why do you think that?’ Draco asked, starting to roll his parchment back up again.

‘He wasn’t at lunch or dinner, and since when has he ever missed a meal in his life. Plus Crabbe and Goyle wanted to ask him something or the other about getting larger Beater bats...’ Blaise trailed off, shaking his head.

‘Larger beating bats?’ Draco laughed.

‘Yeah, well, are you surprised? Anyway, so I said I’ll help them look, and we can’t find him anywhere,’ Blaise finished.

Draco frowned. ‘I’ll go tell Snape, he’ll know what to do.’

So Draco dutifully climbed out of the portrait hole and walked down the corridor in the dungeons, knocked on Snape’s door and was called to enter. Snape was brewing a potion on his desk, something that was not at all uncommon.

‘Yes, Draco?’ Snape said, carefully measuring a sludgy green substance.

Draco told Snape what Blaise had told him. Snape shook his head. ‘Probably got lost on his way back to castle from Quidditch practice last Thursday, I wouldn’t be surprised.’

Draco chuckled. So very few people appreciated the Potion Master’s dry sense of humour.

‘Fine,’ Snape said, giving the potion a nice stir. ‘Get all the Slytherin prefects together, we’ll organize a little search party.’

Draco gathered them all, and within ten minutes, they were all assembled in Snape’s office.

‘Mr. Malfoy here,’ Snape said, folding his arms, ‘informed me that our Quidditch captain has gone missing.
So, I want all of you to look for him. And Tersaw, I want you to go check with our Headmistress, maybe he’s doing her bidding at the moment.’

They searched through the school, Draco joined the party searching the grounds, and they just couldn’t find Montague anywhere. After three hours, Snape called it off.

‘I will inform the Headmistress,’ he snarled the last word. ‘Keep an eye out for him. Inform me of any news.’

The news of Montague’s disappearance also stayed almost exclusively confined to the Slytherins. None of the other students seemed concerned, or even knew about it. Umbridge was going on about him probably falling asleep somewhere ‘unlikely’. Draco actually laughed at this. He knew that if Dumbledore were still there, Montague would have found already.

Montague was found, though, the next evening. He was discovered by a Second Year. When the little boy came running up to Draco, he looked spooked, and he was stumbling over his own words.

‘Found... missing... toilet...,’ he gasped, pointing in the direction he was coming from.

‘You found the missing toilet?’ Draco asked.

The boy shook his head vigorously. ‘Montague... in... toilet,’ he tried again.

Draco’s jaw dropped. ‘You found him in the toilet?’

The boy nodded.

‘Merlin’s beard!’ Draco said.

Draco just screamed for Blaise when he reached the portrait hole, through which he just stuck his head.
Blaise came running down the steps.

‘I’m going to need your help, mate,’ Draco said, cringing at the thought of what he might find already.

They hurried along to the boy’s bathroom, and Blaise started banging every stall door open only to discover that Umbridge and Filch was already standing in the door of a stall, looking a little disgusted.

When he heard a muffled mumble come from a few stalls ahead, they went closer, and there was Montague, his head sticking out of the bowl of the toilet. ‘Dear Merlin,’ Blaise said.

‘Mr. Montague,’ Umbridge screamed in his face. ‘Who was the one that did this to you?’

Montague stared at her, and then started laughing.

‘Gods, Graham,’ Draco said, hardly able to believe his eyes.

‘Well, Mr. Malfoy,’ Umbridge said. ‘What are you waiting for? Go get Snape. I don’t know how to get him out of the loo.’

Draco ran as fast as he could, and when he reached Snape’s office door, he still so shocked that he forgot to knock, but just banged the door open. ‘Professor Snape, sir... oh sorry,’ he said, and for a moment, he is in complete disbelief again. There Potter was standing in Snape’s office. He quickly remembered himself.
‘It’s alright, Draco,’ Snape, lowering his wand, which he seemed to have been pointing at Potter. What was going on? ‘Potter is here for a little remedial Potions.’ Snape explained.

In a second, Draco scanned the room. When he saw the basin on Snape’s desk, the basin he knew well as a Pensieve, Draco knew exactly what was going on. But for the life of him couldn’t figure out why. Quickly, he plastered a large smirk on his face – he had to seem pleased at discovering that Potter needed remedial Potions, although Draco was certain that wasn’t the case. ‘I didn’t know,’ he said.

‘Well, Draco, what is it?

‘It’s Professor Umbridge, sir – she needs your help,’ Malfoy explained. ‘They’ve found Montague, sir, he’s turned up jammed in a toilet on the Fourth Floor.’

‘How did he get in there?’ Snape asked, frowning.

‘I don’t know, sir, he’s a bit confused.’

‘Very well, very well. Potter, we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening,’ Snape said, before walking to the door.

‘Remedial Potions?’ Draco mouthed at Potter behind Snape’s back.

He followed Snape to the Fourth Floor, not thinking about the toilet, but the Pensieve. He couldn’t think of a reason that Snape would need a Pensieve other than... but no?

Snape entered the bathroom, and walked straight to where the crowd was gathered. Without a word, he raised his wand, and gave a wordless spell, after which Montague was expelled from the toilet in a large gush of water that splashed everyone but Snape, somehow. Draco was just glad that his mouth had been shut at the time. Montague lay on the tile floor, wet, looking like a stranded whale. He didn’t make any effort to get up.

‘Well, Snape, well done,’ Umbridge sang. ‘Glad it’s sorted then, if you’ll excuse me,’ she said and sped as fast as her short legs could carry her out the door.

Snape shook his head. ‘Blaise, Draco, help him up, won’t you?’

They went to him, and each grabbed an arm, and together they lifted Montague’s huge frame.

They took him to the Hospital Wing, where they stayed until Pomfrey had gone him over several times, given him things to make him feel better. Snape suggested some potions. They only left when he was asleep.

Draco hurried to the Prefects Bathroom, because he needed soap, and lots of it.


Draco arrived back at the Manor for the short week that was the Easter Holiday. There were two reasons he went home without argue. He had a request for his father and he had research to do in the Malfoy family Library. He had thought a lot about the Pensieve that he saw on Snape’s desk, and couldn‘t come any other conclusion.

The weather was beginning to get friendlier and warmer, with a nice cool wind blowing, keeping it just so that you couldn’t go outside without a light jacket on yet. Draco’s father was not yet at the Manor, but he had already greeted his mother and Sophie, and was told to be ready for dinner at six. So Draco took a run through the beautiful Manor gardens, mostly just to clear his head.

At dinner that evening, his father greeted him almost too formally. No hug, not even a handshake. Just a nod of his head and, ‘Welcome back, Draco.’ They sat at the slightly awkward dinner table and ate their food, while his mother politely inquired about his schoolwork, and how Prefect duty and Quidditch was going, to which Draco replied, telling his parents exactly what they wanted to hear.

Draco felt the uncontrollable need to just get up and leave the table, but he knew better. He just wanted to scream at them. Tell them to just wake up, already, because to Draco it felt like they were puppets, doing whatever the Dark Lord wanted, and not even thinking about having a spontaneous thought.

Draco went to his father’s Study that evening a while after having tea with his mother. He knew he had to be careful about this, but he also knew, somehow, that it was important.

‘Come in, Draco,’ his father said.

Draco took his regular seat opposite his father. ‘I was wondering whether we could continue the Occlumency lessons we started before Fifth Year started.’

His father’s head tilted slightly. ‘Yes, we could,’ his father said calculatingly.

‘I have just been feeling these last few months that it might be better if no one can enter my mind,’ Draco explained.

‘I understand,’ his father replied as he stood up from behind his desk and got his wand out. ‘Can we start now?’

‘Yes,’ Draco said, and stood also, readying himself for the invasion.

‘Legilimens,’ Lucius said simply.

Draco was three years old, in Diagon Alley with his mother, strange ladies pinching his cheeks. He was in Madam Malkin’s Robe Shop, meeting Potter for the first time. He in Second Year at home for holiday and a Death Eater corners in the kitchen alone. He is sitting in the Library, watching Astoria doing Arithmancy calculations... and then Draco repelled his father’s invasion.

‘Good, Draco, but you have to be faster. That was a lot of information,’ his father said as Draco got up from the floor. ‘Again.’

Draco was flying through the air on his broom, chasing the Snitch. Draco was looking at Montague’s head sticking out of the toilet... and Draco threw his father out.

‘Better,’ his father said, smiling. ‘Again.’

And so they practiced for hours. Draco was exhausted but pleased. He had managed to block his father altogether a couple of times, before his father said that he could go to bed. His father had looked proud of him. Draco felt good, tired, sore and a little nauseous. He slept without a single dream.



The last Friday night before he went back to Hogwarts, there was another dinner party, consisting of a lot of Death Eaters, this time including many of the ones that had escaped from Azkaban earlier in the year. Draco felt supremely uncomfortable at the table. His aunt Bellatrix was laughing loudly and obnoxiously, and had already fired many questions at Draco about what he planned with his future in the ranks of the Death Eaters. There was the first time Draco was thankful for the Occlumency training. Although his aunt was a little drunk, and probably not entering his mind to check the truthfulness of his answers, it was a relief to know that his mind was blocked and that she couldn’t search him.

That night Draco listened again, without showing any interest, to the plans and actions that the Death Eaters were up to. He learned that they still hadn’t managed to get into the Department of Mysteries. He also learned the lengths to which they had gone to get in. His father had placed the Imperius curse on one of the Ministry employees, a man named Broderick Bode. His father ordered him to break into the Department of Mysteries, and he was caught, and he was sent to St. Mungo’s because he was believed crazy. There Rudolphus Lestrange had sent him a care-package, which was a Devil’s Snare disguised as a pot plant. Bode was killed by the Devil’s Snare. Sturgis Podmore had the same fate, except he was sent to Azkaban where the Death Eaters couldn’t get to him. Draco just shivered.


Draco was relieved to back at Hogwarts on the Saturday afternoon after the dinner. After a visit to Montague in the Hospital Wing, who still wasn’t any more coherent, he found booklets and pamphlets in the common room. On the notice board he read that it was Career’s Advice time for the Fifth Years and that he had a meeting with Snape Tuesday morning at nine. He, along with Blaise, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle sat most of Sunday paging through the pamphlets and discussing that they would like to be. Draco felt like it was all a little pointless. He didn’t think of himself having a normal future, where he could choose a career, and make an honest living. But he indulged for a moment, imagining himself as a Healer, and working at the Ministry in various departments. Training security trolls was most definitely not for him...

‘I could be a Healer,’ Pansy said, fanning herself with the pamphlet.

Draco and Blaise looked at each other and smiled. If Pansy was a Healer, you better hope you never get sick, cursed, or have an accident. She would only make it worse.

‘I’d like to do something with dragons,’ Crabbe said.

‘You can be a dragon-keeper, or you can apply at Gringotts to feed their dragons,’ Blaise said, reaching to get the brochures for Crabbe to read.

‘There aren’t really dragons in Gringotts, Blaise, everyone knows that,’ Goyle said, rolling his eyes.
‘Well then be a dragon-keeper,’ Blaise said, throwing the green papers at Crabbe anyway.

‘What do you want to do, Goyle?’ Pansy asked him.

‘Um, training security trolls sounds like fun. Do you think we’re allowed to throw curses at them?’ Goyle said, suddenly smiling happily.

Draco snorted. ‘Yes, I actually think you could, Buddy.’

‘You Draco?’ Blaise asked, peeking at him with lifted eyebrows.

‘I’m not sure. This is quite difficult,’ Draco said honestly.

‘It is,’ Blaise agreed. ‘I fancy a little adventure. So most of the Ministry jobs are out and so are the operating the trolley on the Hogwarts Express.’

‘Dragon-keeper might work for you too,’ Draco said.

‘Yes,’ Blaise said, picking up the bright red pamphlet again.

‘Or the Department of Mysteries,’ Draco said.

‘Oooh, yes, being all secretive,’ Pansy said sitting up straighter.

Blaise openly rolled his eyes at her.

‘Well, I think that none of this is necessary for me, I’m marrying Draco after all,’ Pansy said, leaning close to Draco and touching his arm.

Blaise and Draco shared another look. ‘You better have something to say to Snape other than you’re marrying into a wealthy family, or he might throw you in a Potion,’ Blaise said bluntly.

She pouted and leafed through the pamphlets again.

‘Blaise, how about the Magical Law Enforcement, or a Hit Wizard?’ Draco said, quickly changing the subject away from marriage.

‘Yeah, mate, I don’t know, they might be the ones looking for me soon,’ Blaise said with a wink. ‘What about a curse-breaker at Gringotts for you?’

Draco thought a moment. ‘Sounds like fun.’

Draco wondered what Astoria was choosing, and whether her choice would influence his. It probably shouldn’t. He can’t run after her forever, without any hope...


When Astoria sat down next to Draco for Arithmancy on Monday morning, she greeted him with a friendly smile.
‘How was your Easter?’ she asked, while taking her books out.

‘Alright, and yours?’ he asked.

‘It was fine. Stayed over at Kim’s house for the week,’ she said as she got her pencil out and started twirling it between her fingers.

‘Dad not at home again?’ he asked.

‘Yes, he was off in Paris, I think,’ she said.

‘When’s your career advice appointment?’ he asked, watching the progress of the pencil as was transferred from one finger to the other.

‘This afternoon at three,’ she said. ‘It’s quite a stressful thing, isn’t it? I hope Flitwick isn’t going to laugh at me.’

‘He won’t,’ Draco said, waving his hand. ‘What did you choose?’

She grimaced. ‘I think that I want to be a curse-breaker for Gringotts. It sounds like such an adventure,’ she said a little shyly.

‘That’s awesome,’ he said, enthusiastically.

‘What did you choose?’ she asked and she took hold of her fringe, and tried to place it behind her ear, but it was too short.

‘I haven’t yet, I can’t. I’m sixteen, what do I know?’ he said.

‘I know, it’s daunting choosing what you want to do when your forty while your sixteen, but I just figured, I could try something, and if I don’t like it, I can always change my mind. What’s stopping me?’

‘Well if you decide later you want to be a Healer, you didn’t choose the right subjects,’ Draco said, trying not to burst her bubble.

‘I don’t want to be a Healer, ever. But, I’m sure there’s something you can do. I’m not going to worry myself sick now,’ she said.

Draco nodded that he understood what she meant. Then Draco imagined her running around in Egypt, breaking curses, and thought that it might suit her quite well. Draco had another sleepless night, thinking furiously about what he was going to say to Snape the next morning.


Tuesday morning at nine, Draco knocked on Snape’s office door. He had a headache. He still haven’t decided what he wanted to choose. He decided that being honest with Snape might coerce him into giving Draco a little advice. He was missing his first period of Charms anyway, so he decided to take his time and talk.
Draco was surprised to see that Umbridge was sitting in the corner, her clipboard on her lap. He wondered why she insisted on analysing every single thing that happened in this castle. He wondered if she had a log of how often everyone went to the bathroom, how much you had for lunch and through how many rolls of parchment you go to make notes in class.

‘Good morning, Professor Snape, Professor Umbridge,’ he said politely.

‘Morning, Mr. Malfoy,’ Umbridge smiled at him.

‘You can sit down, Draco,’ Snape said, waving at the chair.

Draco sat down, placing his school bag next to his chair on the floor. He swallowed. Whatever he would have said to Snape, he was fairly sure would have remained confidential. But Umbridge’s presence might mean that his father could get wind of whatever he said during this meeting. He clenched his teeth in annoyance.
‘So, have you decided on a career path?’ Snape asked.

‘No, sir,’ Draco said. ‘I just don’t know.’

‘Well,’ Snape said, picking up a few pamphlets on his desk. ‘Let’s rule a few out then. I take it that training security trolls might be a bit too trivial for you?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Draco said.

‘What about a Healer? You have the subjects already, Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology and Charms. You are also maintaining a good enough average mark for this,’ Snape said very patiently.

‘I’m not sure about that, sir,’ Draco said, not really seeing himself as a Healer at all.

Umbridge was scribbling on her clipboard, and Draco wondered what on earth she could be writing.

‘A broom maker? You do have a love for Quidditch, and I believe you will be able to do this with success,’ Snape tried again.

Draco thought for a second. ‘That could be a possibility,’ he said apologetically.

‘Anything in the Ministry you fancy? Law Enforcement? Obliviator?’

‘Oh, Cornelius would love to have Mr. Malfoy work for the Ministry. They could use some trustworthy,’ she winked at Draco.

‘Um, no, I don’t think I want to work for the Ministry,’ Draco said, watching as her smile faded, and she wrote on the clipboard again.

‘Curse-Breaker for Gringotts and Dragon-Keeper is all I would really recommend to you, Draco,’ Snape said.

‘What do both of them need?’ Draco asked.

‘Curse-Breaker needs Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration and obviously Arithmancy,’ Snape said, handing Draco the green pamphlet. ‘And Dragon-Keeper you will need Care of Magical Creatures, Charms and Potions. You also know that I do not accept anyone with less than an ‘O’ for Potions.

Professor McGonagall doesn’t take anyone with less than an ‘E’, but you do seem to be up to standards thus far,’ Snape handed him the red pamphlet.

Draco thought for a moment, thinking about both possibilities. If he didn’t get killed before he was finished with school, wasn’t forced to be a Death Eater permanently, and wasn’t forced to follow in his father’s footsteps, then one of these might be excellent for him.

‘Thank you, sir, I’ll think about both of them.’

‘If you later want any more information, you know where to find me,’ Snape said, with a slight nod of his head in the direction of Umbridge.

‘Thank you, sir,’ Draco smiled at Snape.

He got up and left the room and took a deep breath when he stepped outside. He still had some time to think this through.

On Wednesday, Potter got zero again for Potions, he let his bottle with a sample for Snape fall. Draco though that Potter might really need remedial Potions. This was the third time he had gotten zero, if he wasn’t mistaken.

Later that evening they had a repeat performance of the fireworks. Although not quite, there was only about one or two that went off, but that had enough of an effect to get every student to come out and take a look. Umbridge was present in record time and so was Filch. They were frantically trying to get rid of the huge swamp that was in the corridor, and all the members of the Inquisitorial Squad tried to help too. But to everyone’s surprise the perpetrators were not even trying to hide. The Weasley twins were standing in the middle of the Entrance Hall, with a couple of unlit fireworks in their hands, laughing raucously at the chaos. The Squad had soon closed in among them, and Umbridge was soon leading the pack. She had that ridiculous smile on her face again.

‘So!’ she said, pointing her wand in the air. ‘So, you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?’

‘Pretty amusing, yeah,’ one of the twins said fearlessly.

Filch quickly came forward, looking like Christmas had come early.

‘I’ve got the form Headmistress,’ he said waving the piece of parchment. ‘I’ve got the form and I’ve got the whips waiting. Oh, let me do it now,’ he asked pleadingly, longingly.

‘Very good, Argus,’ she said. ‘You two,’ she said to the twins, ‘are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school,’

‘You know what?’ said one of the twins. ‘I don’t think we are.’

The whole school gasped, and held their breath.

‘George, I think we’ve outgrown full-time education.’

‘Yeah, I’ve been feeling that way myself.’

‘Time to test our talents in the real world, do you reckon?’

‘Definitely.’

Umbridge stood there watching the conversation her head turning left and right following the words of the twins. She seemed to be getting angrier and angrier with every word.

‘Accio brooms,’ one of them said, and they heard a crash far away, and soon the brooms came swooping above the students head into the hands of their owners.

‘We won’t be seeing you.’

‘Yeah, don’t bother to keep in touch.’ They mounted their brooms.

‘If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three Diagon Alley – Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, our new premises!’

‘Special discount to Hogwarts students who swear they’re going to use our products to get rid of this old bat.’

‘Stop them!’ Umbridge yelled, and Draco caught himself with a smile spreading across his face, and quickly made to stop the twins. But they quickly took off from the ground.

‘Give her hell from us, Peeves.’ And Peeves saluted the twins as they flew, spectacularly out of the front doors.

Draco tried his best to hide his grin from the others. That took guts, and he loved that someone gave that evil woman what she deserved. He righted himself, putting a scowl on his face.

The story of the twins’ escape from the clutches of Umbridge was told and retold thousands of times over the next couple of days. It was clearly a new school legend.

All the students seem to have taken what the twins did to heart. Every student seemed a tiny bit more rebellious. Even Blaise was laughing that evening, doing impersonations of Umbridge’s outraged face while waving his fist.

The swamp on the Second Floor stayed exactly where it was, regardless of attempts to remove it. None of the other teachers seemed even a tiny bit bothered by it. Soon all the students were making chaos in the corridors, spells flying at random, dungbombs and Stinkpellets everywhere you look. Although Draco understood the behaviour, he was getting fed-up because as a Prefect and a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, it was making his life exceedingly difficult. Someone had put Nifflers in Umbridge's office, Nifflers that Draco and Pansy had to get rid of while Daphne took a hysterical Headmistress to the Hospital Wing because the Nifflers attacked her hands. Probably to get to the shiny rings... It also wasn’t long before Umbridge’s pets were also targeted. The Inquisitorial Squad had to watch out, because they were victim to stray spells all the time. Draco had to spend his lunch break in the Hospital Wing consoling a weeping Pansy who had somehow sprouted antlers.

Students were also getting all sorts of illnesses, bleeding noses, fainting, throwing up all over the place, some even saying that they had Umbridge-itis (her face became instantly red with fury when she heard this). It was rather obvious that these symptoms were not real, but the life of her Umbridge couldn’t figure out where it came from. She gave so much detention that Draco didn’t think she had a moment free anymore. It soon became evident that all her efforts were failing, because the school’s inhabitants were not letting up. The assault kept going, and because no other teacher would offer Umbridge any help it wasn’t long before Umbridge walked through the school with a permanent scowl, her hair standing at odd angles, her wand always out, and screaming at anyone and everyone she happened to come across.

Probably worst of all was Peeves, who was doing the more damaging things like juggling torches, unscrewing brackets, but Draco’s personal favourite was when he followed Umbridge around and made loud raspberry every time she tried to talk. Draco had to bite his cheek many a time to not start laughing in her face.

Draco was beginning to get worried about Quidditch as well. They had a match against Hufflepuff in one week, and their captain was still as confused as anything up with Madam Pomfrey babbling about nonsense (Mr. and Mrs. Montague was called in to come visit their son.). Bletchley, who was on the team longest, was made substitute captain, and they recruited a Fourth Year to take Montague’s place.

With less than a month to exams, Draco’s nerves were thin and he was worried about everything. He decided that a night off might to do him good. So he asked Astoria if she would join him for a cup of hot chocolate in the kitchens the evening before the Quidditch match. Besides, he had information to share with her.
They met in the Library where Astoria was doing homework, and then they went to the kitchen, making sure that no one saw them together.

‘How’s your back?’ he asked.

She smiled as she sat down at the small table. ‘It hasn’t hurt again, luckily.’

‘Good,’ he smiled back.

‘I was constantly scared that it was going to start again, especially because I was not at school. But Madam Pomfrey gave me some potions in case it happened again over Easter,’ she as she made herself comfortable.
House elves were soon upon them, offering them food, snack and a variety of drinks. They took hot chocolate, and Astoria took a piece of pecan pie.

'I was worried about you,’ he admitted. ‘I read about scars in my father’s Library over the holiday, whenever I got a chance.’

‘Really?’ she said with disbelieving surprise.

‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘But, I couldn’t really find anything concrete, mostly just speculations. There was a lot about the shape of the scar, even about the colour and what it could mean. There was a lot of information, but I couldn’t find very little about the scar hurting years afterwards.’

She took a deep breath, her mouth slightly open and a frown on her face. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she admitted.

Draco didn’t know what to say to that, so he just went on. ‘Could you tell me what shape the scar is, and maybe the colour? I know that it’s personal, and I don’t want to pry, but it might help.’

She blushed a little. ‘It’s white,’ she started. ‘It runs from between my shoulder blades to the middle of my back in a more or less straight line.’

Draco imagined the scar. ‘Along your spine?’

She nodded.

‘And when you say white, you mean that it’s paler than your skin? Or that it’s bright white?’
‘I guess just paler than my skin,’ she said.

Draco nodded, thinking about what he had read. Astoria waited it out patiently, not saying a word.

‘Keep in mind that I do not assume to know everything about scars now that I’ve read a book or two, but...’ Draco hesitated, scared he might have incorrect information. ‘The colour could indicate intent, or it could indicate the level of recovery. In ordinary scars, like ones you get when you fall out of the large birch tree in your backyard, with them in indicates recovery. When the scar is wider than the wound or bright red it means your body is overcompensating, or overproducing collagen. Healed scars, on the other hand, are a light pink, a lot like Potter’s or white, I guess like yours.’

‘My scar is very thin, but is stands out slightly, I can feel it when I touch it,’ she said.

‘The raised scar is also because of too much collagen, it’s not dangerous. Because your scar was caused by magic, I would guess that it meant intent, and white tends to mean pure intentions, but that doesn’t make any sense...’ Draco felt like a fool, because he didn’t understand this himself. ‘Does it ever change colour?’
‘I don’t think so, I haven’t really paid attention. What would it mean?’

‘I’m not sure,’ he said waving his hand. ‘Anyway, my point in telling you all this, was the shape. You see, Potter’s scar is not straight, it’s shaped like a bolt of lightning. The book suggested that Dark Magic makes it mark like that, in complicated forms, when some of the magic remains. The simpler the shape, the less of a... connection. Your scar is very long though, so I would guess that means that there isn’t so much a connection as just something left behind.’

‘Something left behind?’ she asked, frowning deeper than before.

‘Yes,’ he grimaced. ‘You’re not connected to whoever cast the spell on you, but some of the magic that was used is still there,’ Draco tried to explain a bit more coherently.

‘That makes sense, I think,’ she said. ‘Is it then the magic that’s left behind that causes the pain?’
‘I think so,’ Draco said.

‘Why do you think it changed? Got more painful?’

‘I don’t know,’ Draco said. ‘I could mean anything, really. Or it could mean nothing, it might just have been a fluke.’

Her hand came up to her mouth, and she started to chew on her thumb nail. She was quiet for a few minutes as she thought. ‘Thank you, Draco. You’ve given me more of an answer than anyone else.’

Draco shrugged. ‘I’ll look it up again, when I can. Now that I know more, I might be able to find the answer.’

‘I’ve had the pain since I was three, and it never really bothered me. But if it’s getting worse...’

Draco placed his hand over hers on the table without a thought. After he realised what he had done, he suddenly left self-aware. She didn’t seem to notice the difference. ‘Don’t worry about it, okay?’
She nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘So,’ he said, as he cautiously took his hand back. ‘How did your career advice go?’

‘Good,’ she said, smiling. ‘Flitwick gave me the requirements to become a Curse-Breaker, and he said it was a good choice, and that I, so far, got the right marks to carry on.’

‘That’s great,’ Draco smiled.

‘And yours? Did you decide on something then?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Snape actually recommended Curse-Breaker or Dragon-Keeper. They need similar subjects so...’
‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘I heard that they send the new Curse-Breakers on a training course in London for six months.;

‘Really?’ Draco was surprised. ‘So the training is in London?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Training for Dragon-Keeper is in Romania,’ he said.

She nodded. ‘Romania could be nice,’ she said.

‘Yeah,’ Draco said, thinking that he was probably going to be at the Manor hosting Death Eater tea parties and murdering people if nothing changed by then.