𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑

Chapter 1

Chapter 1: How to Save a Life

"It is a great honor to be called upon by the Dark Lord, Draco. Remember what I have taught you."

Draco nodded, tightening his lips and doing his best to remain in control. It wouldn't do to shake with fear in the Dark Lord's presence.

His father's expensive dragon-hide-gloved fingers squeezed his shoulders and the doors to one of the more opulent of Malfoy Mansion's lounge rooms opened. Draco stepped past the threshold and swallowed, his head held high. He could only see the back of a large chair that sat in front of the large, intricately carved marble fireplace, but Draco was in no doubt of who occupied it. His fingers clenched into a fist as he waited with baited breath.

"Young Draco." The sibilant voice floated about the room as if bodiless, and a swath of goose-pimples rose upon Draco's skin.

His father placed a gentle hand against the small of his back and Draco remembered himself, bowing down on one knee and erasing any emotion from his features. "My Lord."

The chair rotated and Draco kept his eyes down, a convenient sign of respect that allowed him to avoid the Dark Lord's face.

The Dark Lord laughed, a high, piercing thing that cut through Draco's ear canals and made him wish he was deaf. "Lucius has taught you well, young Malfoy, but I require you to look at me."

Draco hesitated minutely before he obeyed and stared into glowing red eyes.

"Good," the Dark Lord smiled, revealing gleaming reptilian teeth. "You may be of some use to me yet. Be prepared for my summons in future."

Draco nodded, holding his breath, and bowed again. "My Lord."

The moment Draco exited the room and the doors clicked closed behind him, he felt as if a stifling weight had lifted from his shoulders. He took in a shaky breath.

"You have done well, Draco," his father commended, a hint of pride lacing his tone. "The Dark Lord favors you."

Draco knew he should feel proud as well, but all he felt was ill. The moment he entered his bedroom alone, he fell back upon his bed and stared unseeingly up at his vaulted ceiling with its intricate gold-inlaid patterns, his heart racing. He felt like one of the beautiful flightless peacocks roaming the gardens of the Manor.

He was privileged to live in a place of such opulence, but he was merely ornamental, and utterly trapped.

...

"And Malfoy spies the Snitch!"

The crowd roared, and Harry whipped his head round to spot Malfoy dashing after something on the other side of the pitch. Panic gripped him and he raced in that direction, daring his broom to go faster than it ever had before.

He knew it was cutting it close, but he refused to lose to Malfoy. Not this time. Not ever.

Malfoy's hand shot out and Harry grit his teeth. The Slytherin was reaching for something, but Harry was still too far away to get a good look at what it was, although he could guess. Adrenalin pumping through his veins, he flattened himself onto his broom handle in order to go faster, but then he saw the glint of gold hovering at the edge of Malfoy's fingertips and his hope plummeted. Malfoy was grasping for the winged ball with a single-minded determination, his arm stretching as far as it could go as he struggled to keep his broom level in the wind.

Harry was horrifyingly certain that Malfoy would capture the snitch and win the game for Slytherin, but then something large and brown whipped across the horizon and collided into the boy with a loud crack. In an instant, Malfoy was flung off of his broom and sent weightless into the sky. Harry tensed as the crowd in the stands gasped in horror, and his eyes followed Malfoy's body plummeting, as if in slow-motion, unhindered toward the earth. Once Malfoy's limp form fell past the first tower of onlookers, many in the stands below stood up with a spate of horrified screams.