𝕭𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕾𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖘 || Fred Weasley

08

Summer went fast. Cassie spent her mornings and nights on her bay window, waiting for an owl to swoop into her room. However, no owl came by for weeks.

Cassie and Draco had gone to Diagon Alley a few days after receiving their Hogwarts letter along with the list of supplies. Their father accompanied them as he needed to have a little visit in Knockturn Alley.

The three Malfoys walked into Borgin and Burkes. Lucius rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco."

Draco, who had reached for the glass eye, said, "I thought you were going to buy us a present."

"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said his father, drumming his fingers on the counter.

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the team?" said Draco, looking sulky and bad-tempered. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good. It's just because he's famous... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead... "

Draco bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls as Cassie stood beside her father.

"... everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick— "

"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," said Lucius. "And I would remind you that it is not — prudent — to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear — ah, Mr. Borgin."

"You can try out for the team this year, Draco," said Cassie in an attempt to cheer him up. "You'll be a fine player."

"It's a lot more difficult when you don't already have a guaranteed spot like you," said Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted — Ah, Cassiopeia, it's a pleasure to see you again — and you've brought young Master Malfoy, too — charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced— "

"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," said Lucius.

"Selling?" The smile faded slightly from Mr. Borgin's face.

"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Lucius, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. "I have a few — ah — items at home that might embarrass me if the Ministry were to call... "

Mr. Borgin looked down at the list. "The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"

Lucius's lip curled. "I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act — no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear— "

"I understand, sir, of course," said Mr. Borgin. "Let me see... "

"Can I have that?" interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Lucius coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant— "

"Though if his grades don't pick up, that may indeed be all he is fit for— "

Cassie snickered.