The Malfoy Project

𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚘 #𝟷- 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚘𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚎

     Cold. It was always cold.

     I felt the chill in my bones the moment I was born. Any child might have thought themselves lucky to be born in such a house. There was ample space to run or hide. You could go streaking whichever way and the chances of you bumping into something was near zero. That's how big the house was.

     And yet, there was something about its yawning galleries and too-long hallways that smothered you. It trapped you in - this living, breathing box of dark and damp.

     There was nothing much to do, either. The windows were really high, so I could stand on the ledge and look out. Or I could sit by the piano and fiddle with the keys. But it was the library that boredom often chased me to.

     There was a large chaise by the floor-to-ceiling windows, and I'd spend my time curled up reading anything within my reach. I think I had every single title in there committed to memory. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so monotonous if my parents allowed me any visitors.

     The only times I really got to play with other children were during the galas hosted by the pure-blood families. There was a circuit to it, an order. It would start with the Parkinsons', then the Notts', followed by the Rosiers'. Then the Malfoys. The Goyles. The Blacks, and finally the Crabbes. You would never host an event twice in a row. It just wasn't the proper thing to do. Every family was to have an equal chance to show off their wealth and hospitality.

     It was at such affairs that I met Theo, Marcus, Pansy, and the rest of them. But my very first friend was Ernie Macmillan.

     The one thing I remembered about Ernie was that he was really funny, and I mean side-splittingly hilarious. I believe our paths first crossed at the Goyle's, some auction for something expensive. It might've been a Phoenix feather wand, or maybe it was a musgravite Deluminator. Something.

     We were sharing a table with the Macmillans, and I was on the verge of disintegrating from boredom when the boy next to me turned around in his chair, looked me dead in the eyes, and whispered, "this is an absolute shit show."

     I laughed, even though I didn't know what a 'shit show' was, just that this strange, buck-toothed boy was talking to me. I hadn't thought anyone would have wanted to.

     We hit it off immediately. Any chance we got, we'd lie to our parents saying we needed to go to the loo, then run off somewhere to play catch or hide-and-seek. Together, we would unlace all the polished shoes that were within easy reach, or take turns jumping out from behind corners at each other.

     But Ernie's favourite game by far was pretending he was an Animagus. A hare, specifically. "Why a hare?" I asked, and he was quick to tell me that hares are agile, quick-thinking creatures with a kick that could take your nose off. I always chose a wolf.

     "A werewolf?" he wrinkled his nose. "Werewolves are ugly and stinky."

     "No, just a regular timber wolf," I said. "I read about them in a book from our library. Everyone thinks they're always alone, but really, they have loads of friends and hunt in packs. You can be in my pack if you'd like!"

     I tried my first chocolate frog with Ernie. He brought it to another auction at the Notts. We had run off again and were hiding out in the back garden. He let the frog loose and we chased after it in our pretend-Animagus form.

     He caught it first - because hares are faster than wolves, he said - and shared it with me. At the time, I remember thinking it was better than anything I had ever tasted. "I'll bring another one next time," said Ernie.