"Excuse me, sir?" The young, blonde’s voice quivered as he cautiously stepped into the headmaster’s office, where the aged man sat, alone, but for his eccentric thoughts and ideas.
"Oh? Yes, come in, my boy, no need to sneak about on eggshells. What can I do for you? Has something happened to prompt such an unlikely appearance in my office?" The elderly man started with a comforting tone, slowly becoming more worried as he spoke.
"Sir, you see, all my life my father has told me that I had to be in Slytherin, and well, the night of my years' sorting he threatened me and my mother that if I wasn't sorted as a Slytherin he would- well, what I'm trying to ask is, by any chance, would it be possible for me to be resorted? I don’t know what I really am, but I’m definitely not a Slytherin, and if i have to spend yet another night surrounded by inbred, prejudiced and imbecilic bigots I may lose some of my cool, as I cannot take another second of the blood purity dragon dung I have to endure on a daily basis at home. I can’t help but find the ideology is absolutely ludicrous, I mean, just look at Granger, top of our year, outshining every ‘Pureblood’ here. Please, sir, allow me this one shot at having trueness within myself.” He practically begged, fear gleaming in his eyes at his actions, fear of what his father would do now.
Dumbledore gave him a long look, scrutinizing every inch of his face, Draco felt as if he was staring into his soul and a flare of irritation starting up as he began to understand that this older man was using Legilimency before he quickly crushed it, realizing he would find it necessary given his own usual behavior. Draco tried not to think back on all the things he’d been forced to do to avoid his father’s wrath but found himself helpless in the face of his own racing thoughts, blood roared in his ears as the mans startling periwinkle eyes glistened with new understanding. Hogwarts was meant to be a sanctuary for him, but with his housemate’s family ties, it had only become another prison, a gilded cage with the illusion of freedom.
The white haired man, aged with wisdom and trial, flicked his wrist in a subtle gesture, beckoning the beautiful, brilliantly red bird that perched beside him to come forth, bringing the familiar, ancient hat with it.
“I see you worthy of this chance, my dear boy, and hope that it bestows upon you the light you need, within your own darkness.” He smiled, however his eyes belied his sorrow at the necessity of such an action.
Draco’s eyes shone with unshed tears, knowing that the Headmaster now knew of his underlying pain, a silent thanks on his lips. Gingerly, he picked up the worn hat, setting it neatly atop his ungelled platinum waves.
“Hmm, we’ve met before, yes! I remember you, you begged me to be placed in Slytherin. Where to put you? Tricky, good mind, loyal, but, ah yes! I know!” The hat spoke to him, “GRYFFINDOR!”
Draco smiled, as the hat was removed from his head. Gryffindor? With Potter? The smile dropped from his face.
“Ah, yes, Draco, my boy, I am under Wizard’s Oath to report any and all abuse to officials. I’m terribly sorry. “ Dumbledore stated solemnly.
His head jerked up, “What?! No! You don’t understand! He’ll kill me, he’s going to escape and kill me…” His eyes were wide as saucers, as he stammered.
“You’re safe here, Mister Malfoy. I can assure you as much.” Dumbledore swore. "Now, I'll send Minerva a quick owl, so you should go up to Gryffindor Tower. The password is Nimble Nougats."
