Chapter 1 : The Malfoy's Departing
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The Malfoy's Departing
He sat in his bed, legs outstretched and his head resting against the wall. He had been contemplating on this decision all day. Was he ready to do this? Was he ready to finally let go? He let the doubt immediately linger out of his mind. Doubt was for the weak. He was not weak. He was strong. Stronger than ever knowing that in a few moments time, the last remaining rope holding him back from becoming all he could be would be cut off for good. He threw him legs over his bed, standing without making a sound. He took one look in the mirror as he passed, noticing how distant his light grey eyes looked. They had felt distant too. He left his room and scurried across the hall. When he had reached his destination, he slowly pushed the door open.
The door steadily, but silently opened. In the darkness, he could make out two shapes that he knew were his parents sleeping soundly. He had waited for this moment for a long, long time and finally tonight he would unhinge his parents out of his life. They couldn't be alive for him to succeed. It would be like The Dark Lord's problem all over again. The Dark Lord had one big problem in his attempted rise. And that was Harry Potter. Harry Potter was not in his worries though; he had no power over him. He had not stupidly attempted to kill him as a baby, and get destroyed so that he was nearly nothing. No. That was The Dark Lord's mistake. He however only had two people standing in the way of his greatness, stopping him from fulfilling his true purpose and they both lay sleeping in bed. They were so helpless, so vulnerable. How pathetic.
He walked up to them silently. This was it. This was the time. The time he finally released what was holding him back from true greatness. True power. He raised his wand, pointing it directly at his father's face. Without so much a second thought, he whispered, 'Avada Kedavra!' and a green light that brightly shone the whole room hit his father squarely in the face, killing him instantly. He was gone. The flash however had caused his mother to stir. This needed to be done before she woke up. She did after all give birth to him, and the least he could do was make sure she died silently in her sleep. Raising his wand again, he hissed, 'Avada Kedavra!' and a second green burst of light exploded from his wand, hitting his mother directly on the nose. Her expression softened and he knew it was done. Almost automatically his eyes began to sting.
His hands were cold. His face pale. His legs weak. His light grey eyes swam. A solitary tear strolled down his face, down to his chin where it fell onto the floor, barely audible as it splashed. Were they tears of regret? Or relief? He wasn't sure. He looked at his wand. The green light was fading. It faded completely and he was standing in the darkness. Draco Malfoy looked down at the two bodies in their bed. They looked peaceful but he knew they were not sleeping. Their bodies were too stiff... too cold to be sleeping. He knew he had done it right. Draco's legs buckled and he fell into a chair that sat directly behind him. It had been a whole year he had suffered. His parents had acted like he'd never existed. They had acted as if they were a happy family but Draco knew better. The Dark Lord had been a prominent part of his life. While Draco admitted to himself that he hated The Dark Lord and was glad he was dead, he couldn't help but admire his ideas. A world where all power was controlled by himself. A world where he answered to no-one, and everyone answered to him. Draco wanted that life. He wanted that power. He craved it. He knew, however, that if he was to be successful, following in The Dark Lord's footsteps would be the worst plan of action. He needed something different. The Dark Lord was weak. He made mistakes in places he shouldn't have. Draco didn't plan to make these mistakes.
He knew what he had to do. He stood up from his chair, his legs feeling stronger now. Draco left the room, and glided down the staircase. He snatched up his cloak and pulled it over his shoulders. Too long had he been following orders from his wretched father. Too long he'd dealt with his mother's needs. This time Draco was going to do what he wanted. He was going to do things his way. The right way. Draco hurried along to the Sitting Room, and gathered some personal belongings he'd need. His wand was tucked away in his left pocket. His broom tucked under his left arm and his Invisibility Cloak was tucked under his right arm.
Invisibility. Yeah, right.
He'd seen a true Invisibility Cloak. One that was impenetrable. One that never wore thin. Its remarkable silkiness gave the holder true Invisibility. Of course, Potter would have possession of that particular cloak. Who else but the so called hero of the Wizarding world? Just thinking about Potter made his skin crawl. He hated Potter. Hated him more than he hated his parents. Of course, that might have something to do with the fact Potter had saved his life last year. He owed Potter his life. As if the bespectacled half-blood didn't have enough, what with his Invisibility Cloak, his endless fame and glory... Potter was most probably having a field day knowing that he also was owed Draco's life. Draco felt sick. He stopped thinking about Potter and put the closest thing he had to a true Invisibility Cloak over his head, vanishing at once.
Draco then strolled to the door of his Manor home. He looked vacantly up the stairs, knowing his parents would never wake from their sleep. He opened the door, and let the cold, brisk air blow through his blond hair. He made his way down the path, closing the door behind him. He would never see this Manor again, if he could help it. It wore too many memories that made him feel sick. A whole year he had been waiting for this moment. A moment to prove that he could do what The Dark Lord has never succeeding in doing. He was going to rule over all Wizards and Muggles alike, control all power and have servants meet his every demand. He was going to do it properly, and he'd be damned if Potter was going to stand in his way. The only reason Potter had stopped the Dark Lord is because the Dark Lord's foolish mistakes gave Potter the mixture of luck and desperation to prevail over him. Potter wouldn't do this to him. Potter had no lingering connection. He was no threat to him.
Not even bothering to close the gate after him, Draco stood outside and strolled down the streets. When he had reached a distance far from his house, he turned into an alleyway and removed the cloak. He took deep breaths. He needed to be calm to get this done. He needed to show he was in control. He closed his eyes and with a loud crack disappeared into the surrounding darkness. He reappeared in an empty, wide field. There were green hills as far as he could see, even in the night sky. The sky was starless. Empty. He found it strangely ironic that he, heavy with a burden he had to fulfil, had stumbled across such an empty sky. He pulled his broom out and mounted. With a light kick off the ground, he rose. He tilted his broom slightly, soaring higher and higher, the cold, wispy air slapping against his face and hair.
As the starless, clear night sky guided him, he travelled across field after field, aware of the long trip ahead of him. Earlier that day he had met with three of his most trusted acquaintances. He hoped they could make it to the destination. They were loyal to him for eight years. He hoped that they would be smart enough to follow his lead once more and join him in his success. If not, however... the thought made him shudder alone... if they did not possess the desire to follow in his lead, then they would have to depart also... just like his parents.
The fields stopped standing below Draco and his broom flew over a muddy shore before charging over the open sea. It was a long trip. He knew that. He knew that it would also be a difficult task to complete but he had every confidence in himself. No longer did he need to worry about Lord Voldemort punishments. He was now a free man to do as he pleased and he felt a pierce of pleasure when he thought how The Dark Lord would turn in his grave knowing Draco would achieve what he never could. The ocean below was choppy. High waves slapped over one another, crashing and splashing into nothingness. Draco just hoped, even if it was so that he did not have to kill them, that his three most trusted acquaintances would be waiting for him when he arrived at his destination.
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