Chapter Text
Draco dreamed he was flying.
The night wind brushed against his skin as his silver wings spread majestically across the sky. The moon shone brightly, and the stars seemed to follow his flight, guiding him through the vastness. He felt free; freer than he had ever felt while awake.
And suddenly, a small figure appeared beside him.
Harry Potter, on his Nimbus 2000, looked at him with a playful smile.
—You’re incredible, Draco.
For a moment, Draco thought it was ironic that Harry said that while performing pirouettes around him with insulting ease. Nevertheless, he smiled inwardly in his dragon form and, without warning, accelerated his flight. Harry laughed and followed him, accepting the challenge. They both soared through the sky, competing to see who could go farther, higher, faster.
But before he could win the race, Draco opened his eyes.
Sunlight streamed through the curtains of his room at Malfoy Manor. He stayed still for a few seconds in bed, still feeling the thrill of flight, but soon a smile curved his lips. He had dreamed the same dream again. And that was his favorite dream.
But not everything was perfect. The distorted voice he had been hearing in his head for nearly two years had not returned; without it, he couldn’t continue investigating his condition or his purpose. The Malfoy Curse remained a mystery, and though he had learned to control it better, too many questions remained.
He sighed and stretched.
Silverquick, his faithful silver-nival owl, watched him from his perch with his intelligent, silver eyes. Draco got out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror.
His child’s body was changing. He had grown a few centimeters over the summer, and his face was beginning to sharpen. He would soon turn thirteen, and his blonde hair, slightly longer than usual, fell messily over his forehead. He would probably cut it before returning to Hogwarts.
Without thinking too much, he removed the top of his silk pajamas and summoned his wings. Two large silver wings burst from his back with a flash, and Draco smiled with delight. He had grown particularly fond of them after what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets. They were powerful, magnificent, his.
He turned to Silverquick and, with a mischievous grin, made a threatening gesture, baring his teeth as if they were fangs and curling his fingers as if they were claws. His wings flapped lightly, stirring the air.
Silverquick fluttered nervously on his perch, and Draco laughed softly before folding his wings, ordering them to disappear shortly after.
—Don’t be afraid, Silverquick —he murmured, stroking the owl’s head affectionately—. Your master is a good dragon.
With one last sigh, he got dressed and went downstairs for breakfast. His parents were already at the table. Narcissa greeted him warmly, with that silent, reserved tenderness she always showed. Lucius, on the other hand, barely lifted his gaze from The Daily Prophet, simply nodding his head.
Draco sat down, poured himself a cup of Darjeeling tea (his favorite), and spread jam on his toast absentmindedly, not paying much attention to the murmuring of the newspaper his father held.
His mind was occupied with the day’s plans.
He wanted to read some books on Alchemy and Blood Magic in order to continue his research. He still had vials of his blood and wasn’t sure exactly what to do with them. Did it have any special properties? Was it different from real dragon’s blood?
Perhaps he would write to Hermione. She was the only one he had kept in contact with over the summer, since Weasley had messed up the Muggle telephone, and, from what Hermione had told him in one of her letters, Harry’s uncle had answered the call and forbidden his nephew from using any phone again.
At least Draco had managed to send Harry a letter for his birthday, but Hedwig seemed to have been “kidnapped” again. And, for yet another summer, Silverquick had returned with the letters he sent to Harry after July 31 intact.
Draco sighed and bit into his toast. Perhaps he should make a nocturnal visit one of these nights to Number 4 Privet Drive. But he wasn’t sure a boy with silver wings could go unnoticed in a Muggle neighborhood.
It was then that his father broke the silence with a huff of frustration.
—This is inconceivable —Lucius said, frowning—. Security at Azkaban is a complete disaster.
—Darling, this is the first time it’s happened… —Narcissa interjected.
Draco looked up curiously, as his father rarely lost his composure. His mother, on the other hand, had a pale, tense face. Draco swallowed his bite and looked at her with concern.
—What’s wrong? —he asked.
Narcissa hesitated and looked at her husband. Lucius, saying nothing, handed her the copy of The Daily Prophet.
Draco read the headline aloud:
«BLACK STILL AT LARGE.»
«The Ministry of Magic confirmed yesterday that Sirius Black, perhaps the most evil inmate ever held in the fortress of Azkaban, has still not been captured. ‘We are doing everything in our power to recapture him and urge the magical community to remain calm,’ declared Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge this morning. Fudge has been criticized by members of the International Confederation of Wizards for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the problem. ‘I had no choice but to do so,’ Fudge replied, visibly angry. ‘Black is insane, and poses a serious threat to anyone who crosses his path, whether wizard or Muggle. I have obtained the Prime Minister’s promise not to reveal Black’s true identity to anyone. And let’s be realistic—who would believe it if he did?’ While Muggles have been told that Black is armed with a revolver (a kind of metal wand Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear that the massacre from twelve years ago, when Black killed thirteen people with a single spell, might be repeated.»
A moving photograph of the fugitive appeared just below the article. Draco observed Black’s shadowed eyes, the only part of his gaunt face that seemed alive. He had never seen a vampire, but he had seen detailed drawings and photographs in the Malfoy Manor library, and Black, with his waxy white skin, looked like one of those bloodsuckers.
Wait… Black…? Draco felt the toast lodge in his throat as he lowered the paper and looked at his mother, his heart beating a little faster.
—If it’s a Black… is he related to us?
Narcissa nodded slowly.
—He’s my second cousin —she said, her voice tense—. But he was removed from the Black family long before committing those… atrocities.
Draco looked at his father, expecting more details. Lucius snorted with disdain and took the newspaper from him. Then he closed it with a sharp snap.
—Walburga did well to disinherit him —he said coldly—. What could you expect from a Black who ended up in Gryffindor? That’s going against nature.
Draco blinked, surprised. Had his father just called Sirius Black “against nature” for being in Gryffindor…? Shouldn’t he be more concerned that Black had cold-bloodedly murdered a group of Muggles? But of course. They were Muggles. And his father was… his father.
Lucius hardened his expression and stared at him.
—Listen, son. I know you have a friendship with Harry Potter. I won’t interfere, as I haven’t until now, but I advise you to be very careful this year. More careful than in previous years.
Draco frowned.
—Why bring this up?
His mother exchanged a glance with his father, and she was the one who spoke.
—It’s about Sirius… —she said quietly—. Because perhaps Sirius Black will come after Potter.
Draco felt a shiver run down his spine, and the faint tingling under his skin warned him that his body wanted to react. No. Not now. Why would that lunatic go after Harry?
—Why? —he asked, a feeling of unease rising in his chest—. Why on earth would Black do something like that?
His parents looked at each other again. It was Narcissa who spoke once more, her expression grim.
—Because Sirius Black is Harry Potter’s godfather.
Draco felt all the blood drain from his face.
—What…? —he stammered—. That… lunatic is Harry’s godfather?
There were many things in the world that made sense. That Gryffindors were annoying, that Hufflepuffs were overly friendly, or that Slytherins were proud and arrogant by nature. But this… this made no sense at all.
How was it possible that Saint Potter had a murderer as his godfather?
His expression must have betrayed his thoughts, because his father set the newspaper on the table and continued speaking with calculated calm.
—This is confidential information, Draco. The Minister doesn’t want the press to find out, but since I have a certain closeness with Fudge, I’ve been able to obtain firsthand information.
Draco sat up straight, attentive. Lucius lowered his voice slightly, almost as if he feared someone else might overhear.
—Fudge visited Azkaban shortly before Black escaped. And, according to what he heard, Black was saying disturbing things.
Draco swallowed hard.
—What things?
His father paused before saying:
—He kept saying over and over: “He’s at Hogwarts…”
Again, a shiver ran down his spine. He’s at Hogwarts… Draco stiffened in his chair. Something was terribly wrong with this.
—Is that why I have to be careful with Harry? —he asked cautiously.
Lucius nodded firmly.
—If that lunatic really wants to get back to Hogwarts, it’s most likely because he wants to kill the boy Potter.
Draco felt his hands trembling. Beneath the fabric of his robe, his scales tingled on his skin, threatening to appear.
—But why? —he asked, frustrated—. What sense would it make for a godfather to want to kill his own godson?
Narcissa reached out and held his hand gently on the table.
—You see, darling… —she whispered—. Sirius Black isn’t just Potter’s godfather…
Draco held his breath, and his mother hesitated before completing the sentence:
—He was also a Death Eater.
Draco pulled his mother’s hand away sharply.
—What?!
His father intervened in a cold, calculated tone.
—If you ask me why he would do this, I have a theory —Lucius said, crossing his arms—. I never saw or dealt with him when I was in the service of the Dark Lord. In truth, I didn’t even know he was a Death Eater until he was captured… He was a Gryffindor and a disgrace to the Blacks, so who would have thought? But I’ve heard rumors that Black believes that by killing Potter, the Dark Lord will return to power.
Draco’s stomach twisted.
—But that doesn’t make sense —he whispered—. He’s already dead… isn’t he?
Lucius raised an eyebrow, as if his son’s naivety were entertaining.
—Black lost his leader and his freedom the night Potter stopped the Dark Lord, in some way no one can explain… but dead and weakened isn’t the same, Draco, and since then —Lucius continued—, Black has spent twelve years alone in Azkaban, turning it all over in his mind. He’s had more than a decade to go mad and devise a master plan for one final murder.
Narcissa squeezed Draco’s hand a little tighter.
—But there’s more, darling —she said, a lump in her throat—. Your father and I are worried because it’s possible that Sirius Black might also want to harm you.
Draco felt a pang of panic.
—Why?
—Because your father defected as a Death Eater —Narcissa admitted.
Lucius clicked his tongue, uncomfortable.
—I made it very clear I was under the Imperius Curse, even though it wasn’t true —he said quietly—. But if Black wants revenge, he might think the best way to make me pay for abandoning his Master is to go after you.
Draco went completely pale. What did this mean? That a murderer was after Harry… and maybe him too as collateral damage? But before he could process it, his mother looked at him with intensity.
—I’ve told your father that maybe… this year you shouldn’t return to Hogwarts for your own safety.
Draco jumped to his feet, knocking the chair behind him. He slammed his hands on the table and exclaimed firmly:
—NO! —his voice echoed through the dining room—. I’m going back to Hogwarts. —his silver eyes shone with determination—. A lunatic like Sirius Black can’t just walk into the castle, can he? He’s a wanted man! They’d catch him before he could set foot in the school!
Lucius looked at him silently and, with a simple gesture, indicated he should sit. Draco obeyed and lifted the chair, though his anger still burned inside.
—It won’t be Dumbledore who gives me peace of mind —Lucius said with disdain—, but I hope the castle’s protections will be enough to keep that undesirable away from you.
Narcissa nodded, worried.
—The Ministry will also take security measures —Lucius added—. Fudge has decided to send Dementors to patrol the castle grounds.
Draco tried to swallow, but his throat suddenly went dry. The Dementors… the guards of Azkaban. Creatures wrapped in dark cloaks that drained all happiness around them. Horrible creatures that devoured souls. And now those things would be at Hogwarts? Draco felt a freezing chill run down his spine. Again.
—The Dementors will be at the entrances —Lucius continued—, they’ll check the trains and guard the castle’s security. If Black wants to get into Hogwarts, he’ll have to get past them first.
Draco said nothing, simply sipping his tea, but in his mind he wondered if those creatures could really intercept that murderer. After all, Sirius Black had escaped from a maximum-security prison guarded precisely by Dementors… so who could guarantee he wouldn’t evade them again?
🔹🔹🔹
Narcissa Malfoy wanted to delay her trip to Diagon Alley for as long as possible to buy the things Draco would need for his third year at Hogwarts. But if the goal behind it was to give her son time to change his mind and not attend school, it was clear she had underestimated his stubbornness. Draco Malfoy was not going to stay home because of a third cousin he didn’t even know and who had unfinished business with the world.
Hogwarts was his home. It was the only place where he could transform away from prying eyes, the only place where he could experiment with his curse… But above all, it was the place where his one true friend would be. And his friend would be in danger because of a certain dangerous fugitive, so Draco wasn’t going to sit idly by. He would be at Hogwarts, no matter what. He would stand by Harry, come what may, because that’s what friends were for.
🔹🔹🔹
Summer was almost over when, on the afternoon of August 30th, a gentle tapping on the glass caught his attention. Draco lifted his gaze from the Alchemy book he was reading and saw Hedwig, Harry’s snowy owl, patiently waiting on the windowsill.
He immediately dropped the book and ran to open the window. Hedwig entered elegantly as always, extending a claw with a parchment tied to it. Draco quickly untied the letter and unrolled it.
«Dear Draco,
How are you? I’m fine, more or less.
I had a little problem with the Dursleys, and now I’m staying at the Leaky Cauldron. I haven’t seen Ron or Hermione here yet. I haven’t seen you either, but I was wondering if you’d like to come see me tomorrow.
I’ll be in Diagon Alley. I almost have it memorized by now.
Hope to see you.
Harry.»
Draco didn’t think twice and ran off in search of his mother. Narcissa was in the sitting room, sipping a cup of tea while reading a dark leather-bound book. Draco burst into the room unannounced.
—Tomorrow we’re going to Diagon Alley. No ifs, no buts.
His mother slowly lowered her gaze from the book, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised. Then she noticed the letter still in her son’s hand and sighed.
—You’re a worthy son of your father —she murmured, with a hint of resignation—. Once something gets into your head, it’s impossible to make you change your mind.
Draco smiled to himself. He was determined. Tomorrow he would see Harry. And, with any luck, they could talk about Sirius Black and what awaited them that year at Hogwarts.
🔹🔹🔹
Draco woke early the next day, having barely slept from the excitement of seeing Harry after so many weeks. He dressed in his finest summer robe and went downstairs to have breakfast with his mother.
Narcissa, as always, looked flawless. Not a single strand of her blonde hair was out of place. Draco, on the other hand, fidgeted with impatience, but even though his nervousness was so obvious, his mother pretended not to notice and calmly finished her last cup of tea before rising with the grace of a queen.
—Ready? —she asked serenely.
Draco nodded eagerly, and with a subtle snap, they both Apparated to Diagon Alley. The place was as crowded as ever at this time of year, with hundreds of people rushing through their last-minute shopping. Families with children of all ages moved from shop to shop, buying parchment, cauldrons, new robes, and books.
Draco followed his mother while craning his neck, desperately searching for a tousled black head among the crowd.
But there was no sign of Harry.
He tried to ignore his disappointment as they bought his new robes, third-year books, and a few ingredients for Potions class. He was almost ready to give up when, exiting Flourish & Blotts, something caught his attention. A red head, alongside a messy brown one, emerged from the Magical Menagerie.
And with them, a third head: black, tousled, and recognizable from anywhere.
Draco’s heart skipped a beat.
—Harry! —he shouted without thinking.
Harry immediately turned and was met with Draco’s full embrace. Hermione and Weasley seemed to be arguing about something, but they were left wide-eyed at the scene. It was a display of affection so openly touching and sincere that even the passing ladies sighed tenderly.
Harry smiled.
—I missed you too, Draco.
Behind them, Narcissa Malfoy cleared her throat elegantly. Draco pulled away abruptly, genuinely embarrassed, and straightened his robe in an attempt to regain the Malfoy composure his mother expected.
But it didn’t last long, because Hermione hugged him enthusiastically as well.
—Draco! So glad to see you! —she said with a big smile.
Draco froze for a few seconds before relaxing his shoulders and returning the hug. After all, Hermione was a Muggle-born, and his pureblood mother was watching. When she pulled away, she lifted a wooden cage with excitement.
—Look! I got a cat. His name is Crookshanks.
Draco looked down and saw an orange, scruffy ball of fur with a flat face staring at him from the cage. The creature huffed, as if challenging him, and Draco stepped back slightly.
—That’s a monster, not a cat —Weasley interjected, extending a hand to shake Draco’s. Then he pointed to the gray, bedraggled rat in his other hand—. Almost killed Scabbers.
Draco returned the gesture out of courtesy and raised an eyebrow at the rat’s deplorable condition. It looked old, sick, and bald in patches. In his opinion, dying at the hands of a cat would do it a favor.
—Interesting choice of pet, Weasley.
Ron frowned.
—Scabbers has been in my family forever.
Again, Narcissa’s throat-clearing broke the moment. Draco sighed and decided to make the introductions.
—Mother, these are Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter.
Narcissa gave a slight nod, maintaining her distinguished bearing. Harry and Hermione smiled politely, and Weasley returned the gesture with a small nod. But Narcissa Malfoy’s gaze at each of them was not the same.
She looked at Hermione with coldness for being a Muggle-born.
At Weasley with disdain for being Mr. Weasley’s son.
But at Harry… At Harry she looked with absolute suspicion for being the godson of the extremely dangerous Sirius Black.
Draco felt uncomfortable, and so did Harry, but fortunately, Harry broke the awkward silence naturally.
—Let’s go to the Leaky Cauldron to eat. You coming, Draco? I have tons to tell you.
—I do too —added Weasley—. Did you know I went to Egypt this summer?
—Oh, yes. I read it in The Daily Prophet —Draco replied, looking at his mother expectantly.
Narcissa exhaled softly, as if she had been waiting for that silent question her son had been sending since they set foot in Diagon Alley.
—I’ll leave the Floo Network open so you can return home before dinner.
Draco smiled. That was a “yes.”