Doctor Malfoy

Prologue

Hogsmeade, 2083

It was snowing. The younger sorcerers who had been assigned to work were complaining and they refused to use their wands to try and end the weather. The young Muggles complained to them. The elders of both parties were working hard. Neither old nor young could failed to have noticed the car marked with the sign of the Ministry and watched over by three guards, two of them Muggles, hard to miss with their guns. The headquarters shack was little better. Bitterly cold and even he, used to harsh conditions, was using his gloves. No magic could halt this front.

"My name is Jonathan Draco Malfoy. I'm looking for someone."

There was no response from the frightened 20 odd-year old girl standing before him. He went on.

"Do you understand?"

She simply nodded.

"The person I'm looking for would be my niece." He said. "Where did they find you?"

"In Yorkshire, sir."

"What were you doing in the Yorkshire?" Jonathan pressed the issue.

"I was lost, sir."

"How did you come to be lost."

"I've forgotten."

"Your last name is Lastrangae? I assume that was your father's name, wasn't it?"

"It's a common name," the girl said defensively.

"What do you remember about your father?" Jonathan asked.

"I didn't like him."

"But you liked your mother?"

"I... I suppose so."

"What was she like? I mean what did she look like?"

"Big."

"Big?" Jonathan chuckled.

"I was little, she was big." Elizabeth said.

There was a long pause. The silence itself, however, seemed only to last a few moments.

"Tell me," Jonathan went on, this time gently. "did your mother ever tell you your father was a poet?"

"Sir, my father wasn't a poet."

"What was your father?" Jonathan said, mildly amused.

"Not a poet."

"Did your mother ever mention names like Snepya?"

She shook her head.

"The name Marsh?"

She shook her head again.

"Potterville? That's a place, not a person."

"No, sir."

"You can read, correct?"

"Yes sir."

Jonathan handed her the book.

"The Mar poems, by J. D. Malfoy" She read the cover aloud.

"It's by my half-brother, not myself. The reason I've asked you all of these questions and have had you brought to this little café in Hogsmeade is that the author of these poems lost his mother at about the same time that your mother lost you. And in the same part of this island..." Jonathan said.