The Black Family Secret, Will Draco Ever Discover the Truth? Options

[QuidditchChick]

The Black Family Secret
Chapter 1: Draco’s Suspicion

By QuidditchChick a.k.a. Amber
Draco was, as usual, left to entertain himself. (Which, to the grief of his parents, often times had proved disastrous. It is never wise to leave young wizards all alone in large houses without removal of their wands.) “What do I do now?” he thought as he looked around the library. Volumes of books beckoned for his attention from their oak shelves. Handcrafted bookends in the forms of famous dark wizards kept the books atop their lofty homes. In the center of the floor lay a round green carpet with golden tassels. In the middle stood a single table with a thick book half open on top. On its leather cover was engraved in bold, cursive writing ‘The Malfoy Code of Conduct’. “Oh yes.” Draco thought, “I loathe that book. All its pages filled with rules. I’ve never read anything so boring!” His shoes clacked against the wooden floor. He flipped the pages and began to read aloud. “A Malfoy must always assert his presence in a powerful manner. His companions should have no doubt of his heritage.” His nose wrinkled slightly at the thought. “Rules, rules, rules. That’s all I ever hear. Don’t do this; always do this…will it ever end?” He cast a glance at his father’s favorite chair. A smirk played across his lips.
He flung himself into the great leather seat. He held his wand like a scepter, and began shaking it furiously, “You should know better, son! I am always right.” He laughed. “Hmph. One day this will be my chair, and I will preside over Malfoy business.” As the thought of being head Malfoy puffed his chest, something caught his eye. In one of his father’s reading books was a corner of…something poking out the side. His eyebrow rose, along with his curiosity. He inserted his wand between the pages. Slowly he pried it open. Inside laid an old letter with crisp folds. The edges were worn, as though it had been read many times. He looked at the pages of the book on which it rested. It was the Malfoy family line, a record of everyone that had ever been born into the related blood lines. On this page was written,

Bellatrix Black----Rudolphus Lestrange.
|_____________|
|
? Lestrange

“Hmm. That’s interesting. I wonder where their child is…if it’s even alive. They’re both in Azkaban…” He sat back in the leather chair, and opened the letter. On it was scrawled, in red ink, one word…

[QuidditchChick]

Chapter 3: Of Nuisances and Nightmares

Authors Note: The character Olivia Grimsly is introduced in this chapter. She is my sister’s original character and will may have more cameo appearances in my FF.

~QC


Harry drained the rest of the butterbeer in his mug and got up to leave. Ron caught a glimmer of something gold peeking up from underneath one of the cloth napkins on their table. He picked up the napkin and revealed two galleons. Ron’s eyes widened in amazement. “Harry!” Ron said in an astonished whisper, “What are you doing leaving those on the table? Have you lost your mind?”

“Put those down, Ron. I...just left a tip, that’s all.”

“Harry, she served us drinks. You don’t need to leave enough to cover the entire Ministry’s tip!”
“I’m making up for someone else.” He glanced over toward the table where the Slytherin group formerly sat. Briar was wiping the table down with a cloth, when suddenly it stuck tight to the left corner.

“Oh. A sticking charm. That was mean…” thought Hermione aloud. Briar stomped her foot in frustration then plucked her wand from her apron. She decided to use her wand to clean the rest of their mess just in case.

“Oh fine. Come on then.” said Ron. “There’s loads of other stuff you’ve got to see. You’re lucky S—” he caught himself, “godfather signed that permission slip for you.” He picked up his jacket and they headed for the door.

Outside, the sun greeted them warmly as its heat gently caressed each cheek. It felt good to be able to walk the street without breaking any rules. Of course, somewhere inside he wished he was sneaking out right now, peaking into windows and listening to conversations that were none of his business.

“Hey Harry! I take it you’ll want to look in there…” Hermione pointed to a store named Purcell’s Professional Quidditch Gear and Supplies.

“Yeah! Let’s go.” As they entered the store, rows upon rows of quidditch gear was calling to him. He wished had brought more money from his vault. He certainly could use some more broom polish, and those crimson goggles on the second shelf would look really wicked on him. As they browsed the contents of the store, they noticed someone at the counter making a very hefty and expensive purchase. A tall, slender, blond girl was buying three new brooms, all of the highest make and model. Harry recognized her as a 5th year Slytherin from an aristocratic family. Her name was Olivia Grimsly, but he had never thought she was the quidditch type. She turned to exit, but when she caught Harry’s eye, she stopped to talk to him.

“So, Harry. How is the trio today?” No handshake or courteous bow was offered, merely a curt nod of her head and faint smile. “I do believe you’re having tryouts this week, is that correct?”

“Yes, we are.” Harry was wondering what she getting at.

“Well, I hope you’re on your best this season because my brother will certainly have this on his side.” She pulled out of the sturdy paper wrappings a broom—but not just any broom. This was “The Veil”, so named because its rider was said to be cloaked in a veil of speed, nothing but a sheer blur on the playing field. It was internationally acclaimed and desired by the best of the best.

“Did you just buy three of those?!” Ron asked in amazement.

“Well, yes, actually. My brothers deserve the best. At least, Daddy says they do…”

“But I didn’t think you were on the quidditch team.” Harry replied.

“Yes. Slytherin hasn’t let a girl on their team for a long time.” Hermione said knowingly.

“I’m not on the team.” she retorted in a condescending tone. “The third isn’t for me; it’s for our seeker. You know…Draco.”

Harry twitched in anger. He hated the fact that Draco would now be riding the fastest broom on the market against him in their next match. How was he supposed to be expected to win against that? Besides that, the Slytherins never played fair. It was a sure loss. And if they did lose, his team would be crushed. More importantly, of course, Angelina would murder him.

“I suppose I’ll see you at tryouts on the field Friday. Until then…” She walked away briskly, her blond curls bouncing behind her.

“Well, that was pleasant.” Hermione said sarcastically.

“What are you gonna do now, ‘arry?” Ron asked; worry clinging on to every word.

“I don’t know, Ron, I really don’t know.”




Fred and George were sighing heavily. All that laughing would make anyone lose their breath. The sight of the Slytherins, no, mostly just the sight of Malfoy, waving their arms around like a flock of birds had their sides burning from laughter. Briar chuckled as she brushed an auburn curl out of her hazel eyes as she finished wiping the table.

“You know, guys, that was great watching them flail an’ all. But I thought we were saving those for later. It took me a while to get the timing charm worked out. Now I’ll have to charm another entire batch…” she said as tucked her wand and cleaning cloth into a pocket on her apron.

“Oh, you’ll forgive us.” said Fred.

“Yes, you always do!” George said with a wink.

Briar rolled her eyes. Who couldn’t forgive those two? They were far too persuasive. Otherwise, their detention records would be enough to wallpaper the common rooms—of every house.

“You won’t be able to resist our next proposition.”

“Indeed. But it’s far too risky…”

“Yes…especially for her type…”

“And just what is my type?” she huffed. Fred and George gave each other a furtive glance.

“Stick in the mud.” they said simultaneously.

“I most certainly am not!” she retorted. “Who’s the one who always goes with you on your little adventures? Who’s the one who charms tons of your stuff to make them do mean and nasty things? WHO has known you since they were FIVE! ME!!!”

“Pull yourself together, Bri.” said Fred suavely as he put one hand on her shoulder. Briar crossed her arms and made a frown. She was not happy.

“As soon as you hear what we have in store, you might actually put your books aside tonight.”

“I can’t neglect my studies just to joke around in the halls. Studies are important, and you’d do well to think that even a little.” Fred and George looked at each other disappointed. “But, I might…just for tonight.” They smiled. “It depends…” her voice dropped to a whisper, “…on what you have in mind.” All three gave each other a mischievous smirk.

“Fred, roll out the game plans.”

And with that, they began their conniving plans.



Harry sat in the Gryffindor common room, holding his list of assignments that Hermione had so graciously written out for him. She insisted that he and and Ron needed some serious assistance in time management, and she had determined to find the cure. Harry remembered when she came in bearing two long scrolls, with their names written on the very tops. When it was unrolled, it was about one meter in length each.

“This is sure to help.” she had said. “You’re sure to remember with this.”

“Hmph.” Harry complained. “A stupid piece of paper isn’t going to make my grades better.” He thought to himself angrily. “Why can’t she mind her own business?” Harry slumped down in his chair and stared into the fire. “Okay, calm down, Harry. She’s just trying to help.” He said to himself. He was just so frustrated with so many things: Umbridge, Draco, Snape, Umbridge, Trelawney, Umbridge…he just couldn’t handle it anymore. “If I have to sit through another Defense Against the Dark Arts class listening to her high-pitched stupid voice, I’m going to shove that ugly pink cardigan down her throat!”

“Harry!” Hermione scolded. Harry didn’t realize he was speaking aloud. “She is a teacher. You should show her respect even if she her teaching methods are…”

“Ludicrous?” Harry suggested. Hermione pursed her lips and looked at him disapprovingly. “Sorry, I’m just…tired of stuff. I’m tired of Snape! I don’t care if he’s in the Order. He’s still the same nasty potions teacher who docks points from me for no reason. Trelawney is a coot. And I have to go Umbridge’s office tomorrow at five for detention. So far, this hasn’t been a good week.” He said as he rubbed his hand. Umbridge’s special quill was leaving rather distinct marks on his skin. “Angelina’s going to kill me, but Umbridge wouldn’t let me switch detention to another day.”

“You haven’t told her yet?” Hermione asked.

“No.” he said matter of factly. “You know what…I’m tired. And I’ve got loads of homework that I think I’ll finish upstairs. Goodnight.” He said as began stomping up the staircase. Hermione sat still and awestruck. She sighed as she stroked Crookshanks who was purring softly in her lap. She finished making a few swift notes on her potions assignment (12 inch paper on the effects of moonstones), laid out some of her furry knitted hats, and quietly crept up the staircase to her bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Briar was outside. The cool evening breeze fluttered through her hair. The moon’s cool radiance cast a blue glow that caressed every silhouette. She stood in the center of a forest of trees that encompassed her every side. The ethereal mood seeped into every crook of the trees. The circle of foliage seemed to be something meant to keep something out—or in.

Suddenly, the trees began to quiver and sway unnaturally and against the breeze. It seemed as though some now levitated and hovered toward her. Her heart pounded ferociously in her chest and her breaths grew short and rapid. As the trees neared, she perceived that were no longer plants, but hooded, dark figures drifting toward her. What was once jagged limbs were now long outstretched arms that were groping aimlessly in the darkness. Suddenly, a thin cold hand reached out and grabbed her by her left forearm.

“Briar!” somebody called out.

She sat up and looked around. She was in the Ravenclaw common room, which was very dark and quiet, aside from the few people whom her scream had just awoke. Her forehead was cold and damp with sweat, and her clammy hand was gripping as if for life on her wand (which she kept under pillow). “What on earth is the matter?” said a voice from underneath her.

“I—I just had a bad dream, that’s all. I’m sorry to wake you…” She tucked the wand back under its hiding place. She dare not sleep without. For some reason, she felt like she needed it…or would need it.

“That’s the third time this week, Rosemerta.” said Cho Chang from across the dark room. “You aren’t going to be on your best game, and neither is the rest of your team if none of us gets some sleep. You should see Madame Pomfrey tomorrow, for all our sake’s.”

“Yeah…yeah, I think you’re right.” A collective sigh echoed round the room. She laid her head down on her pillow, but had no sigh to offer. She felt as though she couldn’t breathe. She forced herself to exhale as she closed eyes. “I must sleep…” she urged herself. Slowly and reluctantly, her mind yielded to slumber and she faced the darkness—alone.