“So, where were we?” asked Draco, as he lazily floated a few inches above the ground.
“Your first year.”
“Ahh….” Sighed Draco, and he looked rather nostalgic.
“First year… I was on top, that year. Best on the Quidditch pitch, swarms of friends, girls swooning at my feet…”
“Wait, how could you be best on the Quidditch pitch if first years aren’t allowed their own brooms?”
“That rule still in play, I see?” sneered Draco. “Well, I was amazing on a broom. Faster than the wind, nimble than-”
“No you weren’t!” shrieked Myrtle, who had chosen to make her reappearance.
“What do you, mean, of course I was…” he said, obviously trying to give her a hint.
“No, you’re lying again!” she squealed at Draco. She turned to address Lena. “He’s lying, as usual. I swear, once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. Always trying to make himself look bigger, that’s his way.”
“Myrtle!” said Draco, looking shocked by her behavior. “Please, I’m trying to give an interview!”
“Don’t you trying-to-give-an-interview me! I know you, better than anyone, and you better show me some respect!”
“Well, maybe you should do the same!”
“How dare you?!”
"Do you even care about anyone but yourself?!”
“You’re making it very difficult to care, Myrtle!”
“Don’t you go blaming this on me! You started this, you always start it, you never even show you care!”
“Well, I’m the one having to take care of you, the one who has to comfort you whenever you decide to get all moody over something someone told you 250 years ago!”
“Well, what do you think I did when you were a boy, crying about how miserable your life is, you pathetic little Death Eater!”
The look on Draco’s face was enough to tell Lena that Myrtle had crossed the line. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but he seemed unable to. He took a step back, holding his left forearm tightly.
Myrtle’s look faded from smug to guilty. She watched Draco for a second longer, and then disappeared to her toilet.
“Draco?” Lena asked, approaching him slowly, as if he were a wild animal. “Are you alright?”
“I- I, uh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
Lena could tell he obviously wasn’t fine, but she wasn’t about to push it.
“You fight like that a lot?” she asked, trying to turn the whole thing into something funny.
He gave a weak smile, and said, with a poor attempt at a chuckle.
“Yeah, we fight a lot… just, not, not like that.”
Lena had no idea what it was that made Draco react this way. She was burning with curiosity, but she still had some tact.
“Perhaps you’d like to tell me about your first year.” She suggested gently. “Those seem like happier times.”
He nodded, focused on some point across the room.
“Yes. First year. Long time ago, but I swear, the way I remember it, it could have been yesterday.”
Lena laughed, encouraging him to keep going.
“Right… so, in our first year, we had this teacher. He taught Defense Against The Dark Arts. You should be taking notes.”
“Right.” said Lena, and she quickly fetched a journal and a quill from her bag, writing down as much as she could.
“So, this teacher, his name was Quirrel. Jumpy fellow, always stuttering. Well, it turns out, he was insane.”
“Then how did he get hired in the first place?”
“That’s the obvious question, isn’t it? Our Headmaster at the time, Albus Dumbledore, you’ve probably heard of him, he hired a madman, and yet everyone still considered him wise, never even considered the possibility that he could ever be wrong. Sheep, that’s what people are. They follow whoever wants to be, and never complain, never question, not until it’s too late.
“So, Quirrel, he was always wearing a turban. Big, purple thing. Strange as could be.”
Lena wondered why Quirrel’s turban could possibly be important, but she still scribbled down “Quirrel- purple turban, stutters”.
“So, as you so kindly pointed out, Harry Potter was in my year. He always had two kids trailing after him. A witch named Hermione Granger, and a ginger named Ron Weasley.”
“I know a Weasley!” Lena exclaimed.
“Do you now? Well, they breed like gnomes; I wouldn’t be surprised if you do know one.”
“He’s my best friend’s boyfriend. His name is Ronald, too. I think he said something once about being named after his great-great-grandfather, or something like that.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised….” he repeated. “I don’t suppose there are any Malfoys in school?”
“Or any living Malfoys you know of anywhere?”
“None that I’m aware of.”
He gave a long sigh.
“So, these two were always following him around. And Quirrel, he managed to make it through the whole year, until he decided to try to kill Potter. People were always trying to kill Potter, at least one attempt on his life a year.”
“That’s insane. How did he survive all of that?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Another member of the Potter Fan Club, I see. Typical. I don’t know, he just did. He’s a bleeding hero, okay?
“So, as I was saying, Potter wins, as usual. Defeats the Dark Lord when he’s eleven years old. The Dark Lord was on the back of Quirrel’s head.”
None of this made any sense to Lena, but she continued to write it down diligently.
Hi! Do you remember me? I know, it's been a while. I've been having horrid writer's block on this story, and have rewritten this chapter multiple times until I was mainly satisfied with it. Also, I've been writing a lot of stuff for other fandoms, though I haven't published any of them on Ficwad. Please forgive me for my extended break, I'll try my hardest not to do that again.
P.S. I'm going to give you guys hints to what the two fandoms I have been writing for are. If I get enough excited responses from people who got the hints in the review box, they will more than likely be published.
Fandom No. 1: See you in another life, brotha.
Fandom No. 2: Don't blink. Blink and you're dead. Don't turn your back. Don't look away. And don't blink. Good luck.