Chapter 13

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Chapter 13: "Chapter Thirteen"

Draco managed to bore a hole in the sickle, and he took to wearing it on a scrap of leather around his neck, the black thong standing out sharply against the paleness of his skin. His affection for the Large Family increased, as did his affection for everything else that he could love. His disgust and anger with the world had slowly mellowed into an overall weary irritation tempered with acceptance. He ignored those who sought to provoke him, considering them beneath his notice, which angered them more. He obeyed his orders mildly and quietly, and took whatever punishments Fudge and/or Filch saw fit to dole out. He worked patiently with the younger students, never chastising or scolding them, always praising their efforts and showing them again and again until they got it right. In his spare time, he continued to watch people with a dark, mysterious sort of understanding, as if he was figuring them out.

He found himself becoming fascinated with all creatures around him as well, and he was so kind-hearted and generous that he could not help but spare a few of his meager crumbs for any animal he came across. Cliodne, of course, was allotted at least a third of his (rather meager) meals for the day. The sparrows that hopped around on the roof were offered crumbs of bread and whatever else he had handy, that he would sprinkle on his windowsill every morning and every evening.

He had also made friends with the rat that lived in his wall, the one that made all the scrabbling and clicking noises in the dead of night. He had named him Melchisedec, and would sometimes hold conversations with him as he dropped little pieces of whatever he was eating that night. Sometimes, Melchisedec would sit there and eat them, holding the morsels in his paws like they were gourmet, taking delicate little bites, wiggling his whiskers and cocking his head whenever he stopped to chew. Sometimes, he would grab them up, bobbing his head in thank you as he carried them back into the wall, where (Draco presumed) he gave them to his family, Mrs. Melchisedec and all the little Melchisedec children.

One night, he returned to his attic cold, wet, and very dirty. His hands were empty, as Fudge had been in a foul mood and had denied him supper. So when Melchisedec scrambled out from his hole and cocked his head expectantly, it was with great sadness that Draco had to turn him away. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I haven't any food tonight."

Soon after, Cliodne returned to her perch (she sometimes went out flying during the night, on what Draco supposed were great adventures), and looked at Draco with that same expectant look. By this time, he was feeling rather sorry for himself; the hunger had set in, and he was, all in all, completely miserable.

"I don't have anything," he said wearily, with a bit of an edge to his voice.

Cliodne flew over and landed on his knee, trilling curiously.

And Draco exploded. "I said I don't have anything, you stupid owl!" he snapped, standing up quite suddenly. "Is all you can think about your stomach? I'm cold, I'm wet, and I'm starving to death. I've walked a thousand miles today, and they've done nothing but scold me all day. Some men laughed at me because my shoes have no traction and I slipped in the mud. I'm filthy now. And they laughed at me? Do you hear me?!"

Without waiting for an answer (Cliodne was staring at him in alarm, her golden eyes almost comically huge in her fluffy face), he flung himself into the corner, buried his head in his arms, and burst into tears.

After a long pause, while Cliodne scrabbled at her perch in a huffy and somewhat irritated manner, and Melchisedec and his family scrabbled and screeched in the walls, Draco lifted his face, blotchy and tear-stained, and looked at his owl with a very guilty look on his face.

"I am sorry," he apologized in a low voice. "It was wrong of me to speak so. You've been one of the best friends I've ever had. It was unfair of me to take out my anger and frustration on you. Please forgive me?"

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