Author: Stephen

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VBDF: C6 Driving to the Burrow

Petunia Dursley was not entirely comfortable driving Vernon’s new company car. Mister Grunnings was quite happy with Vernon’s performance, especially after he’d found those illicit transfers of funds by his predecessor. Old Mister Grunnings had personally delivered the Jaguar Sovereign to Privet drive, and insisted that Petunia try out the very comfortable seats. Petunia admitted that she like the seats on the new car. In fact, she’d found them more comfortable than some seats in the house lately, and the sound reduction by closing and locking herself in the Sovereign, well it had been a refuge from her since Dudley and Harry had left. She hadn’t realized how much she relied on her oldest son and nephew.

Vernon might like the responsiveness of the Jaguar, but Petunia was long used to the much more sluggish 1974 Triumph 2500 Estate that was the Dursley’s primary car before. Vernon didn’t trust the 2500 for longer distances, hence his insistence that Petunia take the Sovereign to the Devon home of the Weasleys. Petunia was very glad that they were off the A30. It might not be the M3, or even the M25, but Petunia swore that at least three lorries were trying to run her off the road.

A glance at the mirror revealed that Iris, Primrose, and Violet were behaving themselves for once. Lily had earned the front seat. One girl trying to fill Dudley and Harry’s shoes wasn’t easy, but she was trying. Petunia caught Lily’s look to her out of the corner of her eye. “You’re really looking forward to seeing Ginny again, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Lily said. “And seeing the magical place she lives at too. I nearly can’t believe some of her descriptions.”

Petunia turned off the road into an opening between two walls one of which had a sign that said “The Burrow” on it. “Well, Lily, it looks like we’re here.”

Petunia came to a stop as soon as the vehicle was fully in the clearing that the house was built in. Molly had said that most wizarding families didn’t have driveways, but Arthur was obsessed with muggles, and had a Ford something or rather. Molly wasn’t sure what model it was. Petunia applied the parking brake, undid her seat belt, and existed the vehicle, for the first time getting a look at the Burrow.

The Burrow was magic. It was obvious that the house wouldn’t stay up without magic. The base was a typical cottage, with some of it’s original thatched roof poking out between the extensions that had been stacked on top. The first floor was perhaps the most sensible of the stacked on floors, almost being on top of the ground floor, though the space between the two sections was a bit off centered. The second floor, though, that’s where things really got off. It was about forty-five degrees out of alignment with the floor below, with two corners touching the two sections of the first floor. Petunia had no idea how it was really supported. Then there was the third floor which was a tall section with a very peaked roof over the least supported section of the third floor. Petunia figured if the magic ever failed that section was going to topple off right onto the garden shed.

Lily was already running up to the front door by the time Iris, Primrose, and Violet got out of the Sovereign. Petunia held Primrose’s hand as they approached the Burrow. The door open, and Ginny Weasley darted out of it towards Lily. The two met in what could only be described as a twirling crash, as they embraced at speed and spin around, with big grins on their faces.

Molly Weasley followed in her daughter’s wake. “It looks like our daughters were a bit eager to meet again,” the Devonshire house witch remarked.

Petunia looked at were Iris and Violet had joined the two red headed girls. “I’d say so. It looks like Ginny is planning on showing my girls around, though my little Primrose here, still suffering from spraining her ankle yesterday. The pain medicine has made her a bit drowsy. That being said, it’s one less direction for me to be pulled in.”

“Poor girl,” Molly replied. “Even magical potions don’t seem to do so well with sprained ankles. Ginny used to have a real problem with them, trying to follow her older brothers around.”

“Well, today she’s the eldest, so we’ll see what turnabout does,” Petunia replied.

Molly smiled, then cocked her head briefly. “Come on in, I made some biscuits, and the kettle is on for some tea. I can show you around my domain while Ginny pounds up the stairs with your children. My second son Charlie arrived a little while ago, and my eldest Bill said he was coming from Hogwarts this afternoon. He’s the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. I never thought I’d have a son teaching at Hogwarts.”

“So we might get an honest opinion on how our children are doing in their first year,” Petunia said, following Molly into the kitchen door. “Harry’s writing, but he’s always been a rose-colored glasses boy.”

“Oh, we might have to ply him with some tarts, there has only been one time, maybe two, that Bill has been able to hide what was going on from me,” Molly said.

“I hate to say it, Mum, but Bill’s a lot more successful than you think,” a young man with the same red shade of hair as his mother said as he came down the spiral stair case into the kitchen. The young man held out hand, “I’m Charlie, dragon wrangler.”

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Endeavor’s Insecurity: C2 Markovic

Lieutenant Bojan Markovic pressed the announce button next to the door to the Ready Room. He straightened his uniform again, as he waited for a reply, knowing that it had rung the captain inside. He still harbored a few regrets about the fact that it was blue, not the red that it had been when he graduated from the Academy. He did not attempt to straighten his once dark hair that was graying at the edges.

“Come!” the Captain’s voice echoed from the door. He wondered if she knew that she spoke it with the same note as her adopted father, though a octave higher. The door opened and he enter the Ready Room.

There was quite a bit of difference between Marrissa of the first time he’d seen her and the now Captain Picard he served under. He still recalled the first time he’d seen her in his class on the Enterprise-D, with that long pony tail and pink jumpsuit. She’d barely had any sign of her development, and had been a good couple decimeters shorter than him. Even seated, Markovic could tell that she was still shorter than him, but she wasn’t the preteen that had sat in the center seat anymore. She was the Captain, and he would have to remember that.

The pony tail was gone, replaced with shoulder length hair, not quite perfectly arranged, with almost no bangs at all. The Captain was no little girl anymore, though it appeared that her favorite juice, strawberry, still had it’s place on her desk. Her soft smile had not changed, nor had the particular sigh she made as she put down a PADD and looked up. “Lieutenant Markovic, it has been a long time,” she said.

“It has, Captain,” Markovic acknowledged.

“I have to admit that I expected you to be in red the next time I saw you after the Enterprise crashed,” the Captain said, picking up another PADD. “I certainly didn’t expect you to still be a Lieutenant. Not with this record. Fortunately, there is good reason to rectify that today.”

“Sir?” Markovic asked.

“Lieutenant Commander Ursel has asked to be relieved of his post as Chief Science Officer,” the Captain said. “I’ve chosen to grant his request, and promote you, as his current second in command, into that post. Furthermore, after reviewing your record, I am promoting you, effective immediately, to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. While I don’t recommend it until you’ve settled into your new post, I would highly suggest that once you do settle in, you offer yourself for a limited number of shifts as Officer of the Deck. I have no idea why you stopped doing that.”

“Captain Katsuragi didn’t let anyone outside of the command and operations divisions work as Officer of the Deck,” Markovic responded.

“Well, that is going to change,” the Captain said. “I am a big believer in a regular rotation of Officers of the Deck. There were a total of thirty-five of them on the Stargazer in a crew half the size. Now there is a couple things you should know as my Chief Science Officer. I consider you as an integral part of my command team, this is a science vessel, so you can expect Jay to make sure you’re attending key meetings. I’m not yet sure on the cadence of those meetings, but I’m also not quite sure of my whole team yet. Outside of that, you can expect me to draw some lab time myself. A recent visit to Stellar Cartography has brought a few of my old projects to mind, and the new data is fascinating. That being said, do something about Doctors Danner and Faust. I’m so tempted to lock them in a room until one or both of them dies.”

“I’ll see what I can do, sir,” Markovic said. He’d heard about the fight, and their mutually cancelling sensor requests were legend. “Personally, I’m in favor of quantum torpedic evacuation as the extreme solution.”

“That is a favorite,” the Captain said with a big smile. “I’ve even figured out how to make them land successfully on the front lawn of the C and C’s residence.” There was even a twinkle in her deep amethyst eyes. “Not that I personally am responsible for any such case you may have heard of.”

“Of course not Captain,” Markovic said. He’d heard about two officers who had left the Stargazer that way. He’d also heard that the C and C had been amused.

“I am a big fan of a more collegial command team, and given this vessel’s designation as a diversified science vessel, I think it is appropriate that I have semi regular meetings with the various Science team’s head, but I do not want to step on your position,” the Captain said. “So, I need to know a bit about how you intend to organize and work with your fellow Scientists before I add my twist to the Science Sections.”

Markovic took a moment to think, and it appeared that his new Captain was willing to let him do so. That was an improvement on the little girl he’d once taught, who once she got over her shyness was unable to let there be that silence. “I expect to have a daily status update at the beginning of Alpha Shift, which should catch the late night Delta shift group. There are always a few night owls in Science, Lieutenant Marshall in Gaseous Anomalies is one of them. I do have a regular poker night with several of them, as a sort of informal way. No uniforms allowed.”

“That sounds like a good mix of formal and informal, something that took me quite some time to learn when I took over Security. In fact I’m not quite sure I really ever got it right when I was a department chief,” the Captain said.

“I understand you are a fair poker player,” Markovic offered, letting himself break out of what he had just realized was a self-imposed limitation on the conversation. “Leave the uniform behind, but don’t go either princess or whatever that was that you wore at that dance back before you were adopted.”

“It was a silk camiknicker, and you know I had no idea that it was supposed to be something you slept in, not danced in,” Marrissa shot back. “I was ten at the time and Jay has always had a poker face that can’t be broken. That being said, I think I can find something that doesn’t scream Captain or Princess.”

“Then I extend an invitation to my Probability Studies at 1700 hours in two days,” Markovic said.

Marrissa looked at her PADD, tapped it a couple times, before replying. “I should be able to make that, unless something comes up. Since we’re charting gaseous anomalies away from any known border by a considerable distance, I’m not expecting a sudden red alert. Tell me, Lieutenant, have you always listed your poker night as Probability Studies on your schedule.”

“Since I was at the academy,” Markovic replied.

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Strawberry Wine: Colin (1)

Colin Creevy had been very surprised when he’d got his prefect badge. He’d been even more surprised when he’d found out that the other Gryffindor Prefect in his year was Ruth Peterson. It wasn’t like she was the worst choice among the four girls in Gryffindor in his year, but she wasn’t the best choice either. After working with Ruth for several weeks, though, he had not been surprised that Ruth had lost her badge and it had been handed off to Ginny, who was the best choice, at least in Colin’s opinion.

Colin knew what he wanted to be as a prefect, and he knew that the other three boys in his dorm were not contenders, and never had been. To be a prefect, you couldn’t be shy nobodies, and that described Windstone, Oakley, and Radley to a T. In fact he’d been in his third year before he’d found out that he’d been mispronouncing Windstone (it was win tone, not wind stone), and found out that his first name was actually Julius not Julian. He had to look up Radley’s first name, because he’d never used it. (For some reason he like to be called Boo). As for Oakley, he wasn’t sure the boy had spoken a single word outside of class since first year. It was Colin’s great misfortune to be an extrovert rooming with a bunch of introverts.

He hadn’t really realized that he was a likely prefect until right before his fourth year, but when he’d arrived then, he’d watched each of the other prefects. Colin was not going to be a second coming of Hermione Granger. He admired the girl a bit, but she was too strict, and too focused on academics. He was closer to Ron, if anything, but not quite as loose. Ron had actually taken Colin aside after the prefect’s meeting to give some advice, and lessons he’d learned. Colin hoped he’d taken those lessons to heart. The check list that Hermione had given him was very helpful too.

He was not Ron, so when he called the first years and showed them the way to Gryffindor tower, they were not midgets, but firsties. His every present camera had allowed each of the twenty-four newly sorted Gryffindors to send a picture home of themselves in their new Gryffindor ties and scarfs. He’d even managed to get a few family groupings, and in one case, the next morning caught the one family whose children had managed the trifecta with the sorting of Edwin Edwards into Gryffindor. He’d taken that shot in front of the points counter with a sign in front of the Slytherin counter saying “reserved for Eleanor” who would be the fourth from the family to go to Hogwarts. It was too bad that the eldest was a seventh year.

His pictures were perhaps the center of his style of prefect. He was really big on helping the first years with homesickness. First years were the special domain of Fifth Year prefects, and he remembered his first year, from falling into the lake on his way to the sorting, to his home sickness the next couple weeks, that he seemed to have suffered alone, to the way over the top way he’d worshiped Harry Potter. He made sure they all wrote home, and when they were homesick, he made sure that letter from home was coming, even going to the point of writing his mother to have her call a couple of parents, resulting in nearly fresh biscuits arriving by owl a couple days latter. The firsties were quite amazed at his prediction of their arrival, and his charm to warm them to make those chocolate chip biscuits like they’d just come from the oven was very appreciated.

Of course, there was Elizabeth Waters, whose uncle now was in the custody of Her Majesty’s Courts, being tried for raping her next week. He’d struggled a bit on how to handle that, going for advice from both Harry and McGonagall, and more successfully, his mother, who had been brilliant in finding Elizabeth’s Great Aunt Matilda, an elderly old lady in a nursing home Colin had met just once. The old lady was even testifying against her nephew, who apparently had a long history of abusing young girls. How a man who had lost custody of his own daughter had gotten custody of his niece was one of those mysteries of Child Protective Services that really should be solved.

At the moment, he had a much more important set of pictures to take. He’d just witnessed, along with pretty much all of Gryffindor, the wedding of Professor Potter and Ginny Weasley. He’d been chosen to document it. The decision and scheduling had been quick. So quick that the three of Ginny’s brothers had not been able to attend. The first picture he had to take was of course of the happy couple.

Ginny had insisted, over the loud last minute objections of her mother, that her wearing white was not exactly an option. Colin was now of the opinion that Molly Weasley’s howlers were not enhanced volume like many other parents’ were. Instead she’d chosen a black and red dress with gold edging. In style, Colin thought it was more something that a medieval princess would wear instead of a witch.

Harry’s outfit was a regency suit, with gold edging on the long black coat. With plain black pants and boots that were right out of his regular wear. The deep scarlet vest, and matching tie played off Ginny’s dress almost perfectly. They’d chosen a rather isolated part of the grounds, near the old Scriptorium for their pictures., and the background seemed to be almost perfect.

Colin snapped several pictures, to make sure he got a good shot. Catching a picture were someone wasn’t blinking, or distracted by something, wasn’t always easy, but it was easier with just the bride and groom. Their pose with his arm around her shoulders and her hand at his waist seemed to fit well.”Thank you, now for the wedding party.”

There had been no surprises when Ron Weasley had been chosen as best man, nor really when Hermione Granger had been chose as Maid of Honor. It would have been a surprise if they hadn’t. It was somewhat of a surprise, thought, who had been chosen as the sole bridesmaid, along with the sole groomsman. The very pregnant Elizabeth Waters certainly hadn’t expected it. That being said, Elizabeth was Professor Potter’s ward. As for Edwin Carrow, the first Carrow to be sorted into Gryffindor in half a millennia, Colin wasn’t quite sure why he’d been picked, as there seemed to be no connection he could find, save that both Edwin and Elizabeth were first years, and if that was the qualification, then Quinton Hart would have been a more expected pairing with Elizabeth. After all, Quinton, Quin to his friends, was a regular study partner to Elizabeth, and top of his class.

As soon as the pictures were done, Colin put his camera away. He’d start on developing them tomorrow night. Now, thought, he had other tasks. “Come on, Elizabeth, we have a train to catch, and you have a great-aunt to meet.”

He’d found Elizabeth’s Great Aunt Matilda, by pure luck. If he hadn’t accompanied his mother to visit his Great Aunt Frank’s Mary, he wouldn’t have even had a clue. Frank’s Mary was called such because she was the Mary who had married his uncle Frank, not Tony, Winton, or Brent. There were a lot of Marys that married into the Creevy family in his grand mother’s generation. When he was little, he’d thought Franksmary was her name, not a possessive identifier, and she’d long been the favorite of his great aunts, of which he had twenty, three of which were widows, living in the same retirement community north of Bristol.

If he hadn’t gone that one last time before his fifth year to visit his reported but not really ailing great aunt, he’d of had no idea of the existence of Matilda Martha Mora Waters nee Portage, widow of the late Major Montgomery Waters. Major Waters had severed in the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry at Delville Wood during the Great War, were he’d served with particular distinction. At least that was what the widow said when Colin had encountered her.

Colin might have loved his Great Aunt Franksmary, but there was a limit even with a favorite great aunt. He was no longer five, no matter how much his mother, aunts, grandmother, and great aunts thought he was. So, he’d excused himself from his mother and Great Aunt Frank’s Mary’s rooms and wandered around the town, eventually stopping at small Church. Colin loved taking pictures of churches and especially stained glass windows.

This particular church had a lovely depiction of Saint Cecilia, as well as Saint Wulstan, and Colin had caught the light coming through them almost perfectly. It was also where he’d encountered Matilda. She’d been knelling in the third pew, holding a metal of some sort. He wasn’t sure why he’d ended up knelling beside her, nor was he quite sure why he’d end up after he’d taken the pictures kneeling next to her. But he had, and somehow he’d gotten to talking to her.

She’d stuck in his mind, with all of her tales about her family. It might have been because she’d been absolutely unfiltered in her opinions of her family. When he’d gone back to his Aunt Franksmary, he’d mentioned Matilda. Some time after that Franksmary and Matilda had become friends. His mother visited her aunts every two weeks when Colin and Dennis were at Hogwarts.

So when Harry had briefed the prefects on what they needed to know, and Colin had put two and two together, perhaps it wasn’t too surprising that his mother was just arriving at Aunt Franksmary’s when Colin’s letter by owl reached her.

So today, when most others were going home for Christmas via the Hogwarts Express, Colin and Elizabeth were going to leave a bit earlier. He’d be developing the photos he’d just taken in his home studio, and Elizabeth, well she was going to spend her Christmas with her Great Aunt Matilda. It only took them a few minutes to go from the courtyard to the Headmaster’s Office. Professor Dumbledore was standing in front of the gargoyle, waiting for them.

“Good Evening, Professor,” Colin said. To his surprise, the Headmaster was dressed in a classic Edwardian site with pin stripped pants and suit coat, over a high buttoned deep plum vest. He wore a slightly brighter plum and a white shirt with a wide curved collar. It was not the animated rich purple and gold robes that he’d worn to unite Harry and Ginny in marriage. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit, Headmaster.”

“It has been quite some time since I have pulled this out of my wardrobe,” the Headmaster admitted, running his hands down the suit jacket. “I may have had to the fitting just a bit. Unlike, Miss Waters here, I do not have a good excuse for the weight I have put on. We shall be apparating from here to Aviemore, where will be waiting for the sleeper to Crew. Your trunks will be waiting there. I shall be in the next compartment over, once we board. “

“I thought you couldn’t apparart inside Hogwarts,” Colin said.

“You will find that there are some benefits to being Headmaster, Mister Creevey,” Professor Dumbledore said, pulling a tin out of his coat pocket. “Sherbert lemon, Miss Waters?” For the first time Colin noticed that the Headmaster’s right hand was covered with a black cloth glove. “No? Perhaps you are wise in that. Take my hands, children.”

Colin took the Headmaster’s right hand, which felt a bit strange, and Elizabeth his left. He suddenly felt compressed, and the next thing he knew he was standing on a darkened corner of Aviemore Station.

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VBDF: Letters to Vernon

The following is the last scene in Chapter Five of Very Big Dursley Family. It has just gone out to the betas as of this posting.

“Bradley, get the mail,” Vernon ordered, as he heard it hit the floor and the mail slot snap shut. He was hoping for a letter from Dudley. It may have only been a couple days since he’d dropped his son off, but Dudley had said that he’d write earlier and more often than Harry would. A white form glided through the open kitchen window, before landing on the back of Petunia’s chair. It was Hedwig, and it looked like she had a letter.

Lily was smiling as she stepped up to get the letter off of Hedwig. “I told you my older brother would write first,” she said, addressing Bradley as he got up. Vernon had known for a while that Lily was not actually his child, being magically transferred to Petunia on her sister’s death. It had been something he’d suspected at first when she started having accidental magic. For a while he’d thought that the sign of a Dursley was no magic, then Bradley had summoned his pacifier, and he’d discovered Violet adjusting the color of her shirt the next day. Still, it actually hurt him a bit when Lily started aligning with Harry instead of Dudley.

Lily still called him Dad though. Vernon missed her calling him Daddy. The way she used to plead with him, drawing out the word had never been matched by his younger children, and even Harry was his child, as far as he was concerned. Lily was growing up way to quickly. She was nine, now, and just starting to show signs of her development. He was hoping that she would develop more of a sense of modesty, soon. Thus far, the only sign he’d seen of it was the one time he’d opened the garage door to discover that she was showering in the back. That reminded him, it was past time for him to finish installing the privacy wall for the shower and sinks he’d installed as a project last summer.

“He’s in Hufflepuff!” Lily said unscrolling the letter as she read it. Bradley was returning with the stack of Royal Mail that had been shoved through the letter slot. “Told you he wouldn’t be in Griffindor, Noel! And definitely not Slytherin, Brad.”

Bradley looked up from shuffling the letters. “Nothing from Dudley,” Bradley said in a monotone. It had only been a couple days, but Vernon could tell that Bradley was missing his older brother. Bradley was now the oldest of his boys at home, and third eldest child not away at boarding school. He’d hoped that it might give his son just a little bit more maturity, with some additional responsibilities devolving to him, namely taking more a role with Noel and being responsible for the cleanliness of the room the two shared. Judging from the peak he’d taken of the room, that wasn’t happening yet. “There is a letter from Aunt Marge.”

His children didn’t like Vernon’s sister. There were times where he had to agree with them. The Ripper Incident being one of the primary examples. He’d nearly torn his sister a new one when the dog, after chasing Harry up a tree had bit then two-year-old Noel. It had taken a while before she was welcomed back to the Dursley home. Marjorie, she’d insisted on being called by her legal name after Vernon turned ten, was his sister, though, and the usual Spring visit to her home out in the Lake District where last year they’d been able to ride the Steam Yacht Gondola was a highlight of the Dursley family’s year.

Vernon opened his sister’s letter, as Harry’s letter got passed from Lily to Violet. It began with a whole page about the antics of her dogs, which Vernon only skimmed. It was an interest he didn’t share with his sister. He was a cat person, not a dog person, and if it wasn’t for practicality, he probably would have encouraged Harry to go for a cat instead of getting the owl. Next was a little bit about some house and kennel renovations, then a request on how Petunia was doing with her latest pregnancy.

Vernon looked up to discover that Petunia was just entering the dining room. As she passed near enough, he reached out to pull her into a kiss, causing his children to immediately groan. She was sixteen and a half weeks, now, and showing it a bit. “How is the baby this morning, Pet?” he asked.

“So far, avoiding making me sick this morning for the first time in weeks,” Petunia said, looking over his shoulder. “Marge? I’ll give you a couple paragraphs for your response. Violetta, I’m next for Harry’s letter, and Brad-de-kins, good attempt at making your bed, but you can do better.”

“Yes Mummy,” Violet said. Bradley merely nodded back at his mother before going back to his breakfast. Violet, on the other hand, seemed a bit hyper this morning, squirming in her seat as she finished Harry’s letter.

Vernon turned back to his sister’s letter. It seemed that there had been an incident with Colonel Fubster, whose old regimental secretary had stopped by. Marjorie was afraid that she might have made a fool of herself. Vernon huffed. It was almost a certainty that she’d made a fool of herself. His sister had it bad for the Colonel and really should give it up, because the Colonel did not and would not ever, as far as Vernon could tell.

The Colonel had apparently volunteered to watch the kennel, though, so she could make her yearly trip to visit family in the South of England. Most of which, Vernon was sure, could care less for her visit. His children were not alone in that feeling. She was his sister, and at this point, it was tradition. Violet would move in with Iris and Primrose for the visit for the weekend of her visit. Without Harry and Dudley, they wouldn’t need to make up the parlor at night for the children. He was sure that his children would miss that. It was apparently great fun to camp out there. Last year he’d discovered all eight of them asleep in the parlor on the third morning of his sister’s visit.

“Marge will be here from the twentieth to the twenty-third, this year,” Vernon announced, to his children. The groan from the six was epic.

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VBDF: Hufflepuff First Year Dorm Day 1

“My oldest brother is evil,” Ron Weasley said dropping his books on one of the tables in the Hufflepuff First Year Dorm. “Ending class with a tour of the library … how is that Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

“I don’t know, his Dark Arts of Madame Pince’s Library tour certainly gave us some defense against her,” Harry said as he leaned back on one of the scattered low chairs in the wide main chamber of the Hufflepuff First Year dorm. He’d already dropped his robe in his alcove and picked up his Transfiguration boor to look over for the next day’s class. “I think Hermione enjoyed it. At least she had much larger load of books when she left for Ravenclaw than you picked up.”

“I asked Bill what I really needed to check out first. It had to be on the very top shelf in the very back of the collection,” Ron replied. “I thought I’d be able to relax a little at school instead of Mum always pushing me to do stuff. Then bloody Bill had to become a professor. Why did Quirrel have to die?”

Harry weighted responding for a moment. “Sorry about that, I didn’t think trying to shake his hand would turn him into ash. The smell was horrible.”

“You were there when it happened?” Ernie MacMillan asked, as he tossed his robe into the alcove he shared with Malfoy. After classes were over you didn’t have to keep the school uniform on, and the Hufflepuff dorms were on the warm side. Pretty much all of them had ditched the black wool robes. MacMillan had rid himself of his tie, and unbuttoned hid white dress shirt to reveal a Wasps t-shirt.

Malfoy leaned out of the alcove, “at least try to get it on your bed, MacMillan.” Malfoy was still in his uniform, save that the tie was gone. Malfoy seemed to really hate his Hufflepuff tie.

“My family was visiting Diagon Alley for my school supplies. From what the Auror told Aunt Petunia a few days later, Professor Quirel had been possessed by the seriously evil wizard who killed my parents, and the protection that my Mum created by her death for the rest of the family literally burnt the Wraith of You-Know-Who out of his body. He’d been possessed too long, effused with the wraith throughout his body, so he burnt up. I had nightmares for days. That smell.”

“It’s not just the Dark Lord’s possession that burns,” Malfoy said almost inaudible to Harry as he exited the alcove and found a seat. It wasn’t close to the other chairs, which were pretty close to the center of the chamber, but over almost all the way to the door to the boy’s corridor.

“What do you mean, Malfoy?” Harry said, curious. After all, if it was something that his mother’s protection did, he needed to know. At first it didn’t look like Malfoy was going to respond.

Malfoy seemed to sink into himself as he sat in the chair. He wasn’t opening the book in his hand, as his eyes focused on the floor in front of him. Harry nearly resigned himself not to find out, before Susan spoke up. “Come on, Draco. I think you need to say it.”

Malfoy stood up, and uneasily moved forward. He let the book he’d had in hand drop to the floor. As he began to pace, you could hear his deep breath, as he settled himself, as if he was about to release a big load from his body. “My father was a Death Eater, one of the Dark Lord’s inner circle, so they say. He claims that he was under a curse to obey. All of the Dark Lord’s inner circle have this mark, father calls it the Dark Mark, that the Dark Lord gave him.

“Father always tries to hide it, I’m not sure why. Anyway, he was in Diagon Alley when your family went by, Potter. The Dark Mark caught fire, and the burns, they’re not healing well. I’m worried for him.”

Harry stood up and went to stand by the now stationary Malfoy scion. He placed his arm around his fellow Hufflepuff, much the way he’d done so when his younger cousins were in similar moods. “He’s your father, fathers are important, and you should feel that way. I don’t have one anymore, but I remember when Uncle Vernon, my guardian, broke his arm at work. Seeing the cast on his arm, well, I thought he was going to die like my father did at first.”

“Father is too important to die,” Malfoy said, as Harry turned him so they faced each other. Draco was actually just a little bit taller, but somehow Harry still managed to envelope him in a hug. As Harry held Malfoy, it was like something went loose inside Malfoy, as he slumped against Harry. Tears started going down his face. For a long minute, nothing was said, before the gates opened up.

“I’m afraid he’ll be disappointed in me,” Draco admitted pulling slightly away from Harry. “Father expected me to be in Slytherin, to rule the school, or at least my year within days. Now I’m in Hufflepuff that’s not going to happen.”

“Don’t count on that,” Harry replied. He was kind of used to this. It seemed that all of his younger siblings and their friends had ended up in his arms at one point or another. Aunt Petunia said it was because he was like his mother, a natural at getting people to open up. “Like Professor Sprout said, we’re Hufflepuffs, we can do anything.”

Draco pulled out of Harry’s embrace, pulled out a handkerchief from an inner pocket of his robe, and blew his nose. “Not going to happen. I already know who is going to rule our year, and it is not me. It never was going to be. And you know, I really don’t mind.”

“We haven’t been hear a full day, how do you know that, Malfoy?” Macmillan asked.

Draco looked around the chamber. “It was always going to be Harry, come on. Boy-Who-Lived? Heir to the Most Noble House of Potter? Who somehow filled a compartment on the Express with Heirs of no less than three children of Wizengamot members, and one head of a minor department of the Ministry. Don’t scoff at that, Weasley. Your father might be in a small department, but my father has real respect for the office, even though he’s been a rival of yours since their first years.

“If Granger doesn’t end up being number one in our class, I’ll be surprised, just based on sharing a couple classes and being in the library with her. You know she memorized Hogwarts, a History?
“Both Thomas and Finnigan are likely to be tops in Gryffindor. You saw how they greeted and introduced the others to us. Though I already knew Crabbe. Zabini is going to rule Slytherin since I’m not there, and that’s only because he sat with you on the Express.”

“Sitting with me isn’t that important,” Harry replied, feeling his face warm with his blush.

“It’s Slytherin, who you’re seen with is all important. That and who your family is, and what your parents do. Everyone knew who was going to be what in Slytherin. Then I had to be sorted in Hufflepuff, because, apparently, I will do well here. Mangey old hat!”

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Toddler Draco in Slytherin

I’ve just started a part 5 of Harry Potter, Head of Slytherin and found I needed just a little bit of a picture to help me write a scene. It should be noted that I’m not happy with the Pansy on the couch. Lighting has a green tint to it, which makes Draco’s platinum blond hare look a bit different than it would otherwise. He is wearing a sack-cloth shirt, for penance per the last scene. Pansy is wearing a Back-To-School outfit from daz3d.com as I am having some trouble working with the various robes I have.

Image of Draco and Pansy
Pansy sleeps with The Dragon Too