Draco C. Malfoy

Hey-

There's something I've been wondering, and you two are the best people I can ask, because I know you're both sentimental about Sirius for different (albeit related) reasons.

Ellie leaped in front of Sirius so he could live, and near as I can tell, that's the only reason he's here now.

Are you glad about that? I mean, I know you aren't happy Ellie's dead, obviously, but when it comes right down to it, would you rather she be dead and Sirius be alive, instead of the reverse?

If anyone seriously has a problem with the items I stole yesterday, then why don't you try talking to me about it, instead of lying it on other people's doorsteps, like those belonging to Mrs. Longbottom and Sirius?

If you find that I sent you something that doesn't suit you, then please feel free to do with it whatever you like. Throw it in the rubbish, turn it into an elaborate candle-holder, or, if you like lining the pockets of Protectorate-worshipping purebloods, then send it back to the shopkeeper I stole it from.

Though I very much doubt you'll be sending back any of the wands, tents, potions ingredients, brooms or other items you categorise as 'acceptable' to steal.

And just so we're clear: I didn't harm or hurt anyone during my excursion. Even though I did see Isadora Rowle in the Harrod's beauty department and consider it an opportunity that I regret not taking.

It's a good thing that 12 Grimmauld is hidden. I've been spending a lot of time staring out the window, even though it's not really like me to sit at windows, staring out. There's a bakery across the street. It seems to be popular, though I've never tried any of their bread or pastry. I don't think I would have eaten there before, because it's not a bakery I've heard of, and not the sort of bakery that most of my mates would go to. But now I keep wishing I could walk over and get a croissant, or something. It would probably be a terrible croissant, but that wouldn't matter. I know I could probably ask Kreacher to walk over and get me one, but that's not really the point. I want it to be me who walks over there, who goes inside and buys a terrible croissant.

Of all the ideas we've discussed, I think the only one that will work is for me to die. My parents need to believe I'm dead. If there's a way for them to think I died loyal, that would be even better, but I don't know if it's possible now. Things will be better for them if it looks as if I were trying to get back to them to tell them all I knew, and got killed along the way.

Better for them temporarily, that is.

And then, after that, I might leave New London. I don't feel like I fit in at Sherwood or Moddey, but that's rather the point.

I've been wondering if part of the reason I wanted to join the Council wasn't because I was oh-so certain I could be useful as a double agent, but because it would mean that my life would be disrupted as little as possible. I would be able to eat at the best restaurants, get invited to the best parties, wear the best robes... I could pretend that I was the dutiful son my parents wanted me to be.

That's not an option any more. None of it is. And sitting in what is essentially my ancestral home, staring out the window, isn't really, either. Yet I keep doing it.

Alright. I don't know what else.

Mother wrote.


My Father will be killed if I don't turn myself in.

Hi.

Sorry about sending that letter through the colocation box so late. It must've been what, 2 or 3 in the morning? I couldn't sleep until I wrote it.

I should probably also confess that I was still a bit pissed from the party punch when I wrote it. But even so, I meant everything I wrote. It just wasn't necessarily as eloquent as it ought to have been, and possibly had a few misspellings.

I'm not sure what we do now, but talking seems first in order of things.

Okay, that's it. Call a meeting, make a circle, do a chant, kiss a goblin. I don't care what it involves, I want out of this organisation. Make me an auxiliary member. I'll pass along what I feel like sharing via Mr Snape and Harry.

I am entirely serious.

I want the fuck out right now. Not tomorrow, not in a week. NOW.

Well then?

I know you've spoken to her by now, I saw your private message go up.

I don't want you to betray her confidence in any way. I just want to know that she's alright.

So how did the questioning with Raz really go? (It would seem others are too busy welcoming Ginny Weasley to ask for more details.)

Any idea what he'll do to him? Teddy, that is. Because I can't imagine he's pleased about the whole thing. And as genial as Raz typically is, he's still not someone to cross.

We haven't much time this go around, so I'll get straight to it.

To all you adults who do or have spent time at Hogwarts, what do you know about the layout of the Forbidden Forest? Or of the migration patterns of the creatures living there? The insight of those of you who have taught Care of Magical Creatures is particularly welcome. Mr Macnair, I seem to recall that you were always coming in and out of the Forest, and that you were always growling cautioning us to stay out of there. Have you any advice?

Here's our task:

Happy Vernal Equinox!

We know you have all been waiting impatiently for the end of winter and the beginning of spring. Why not celebrate with a walk in the woods?

Sometime before supper is served on Sunday, go to the Forbidden Forest and bring back an artefact belonging to a dangerous magical creature you find there. For example, a fire crab shell, a thestral's tail, an ashwinder egg, an acromantula fang, perhaps a werewolf's head. We'd even accept a Centaur's bow - if you can manage to capture one.

Beware of trolls. Good luck.

Our sponsors have been rather quiet this week - no word of a new challenge since the leg-locker curse.

I imagine they're taking their time to think of something truly limit-testing this go, after those first two relatively easy tasks.

But then they could be a bunch of unimaginative sods, too.

I'm bracing myself for both. Probably at the weekend, since I doubt they want to give us too much time off. I did get an owl from Ned, more or less telling me that I was on a good track, but that I shouldn't hold back or bide my time. The concept of subtlety is lost on him, it would seem, which isn't a surprise given that he used to be Crouch's secretary.

And - well, you might as well know the rest of it. He reminded me that because of my Father, my "position" wasn't as assured as it would have been, once upon a time.

I'm sure it will bring a smile to some of your faces to hear that bit.

At any rate, I think he's wrong. I don't believe it would do to look desperate, or as if I were dwelling on Father's situation. All of this is what I was meant for - that's what I aim to project. It is, after all, what comes naturally. I am the person the Lord Protector needs, the one that my Father couldn't be.

But this has got to look well ridiculous to those of you on the spectator end of this. You should all start a pool on who's going to make top third. Put it up on a big banner somewhere public to make everyone feel itchy. Put Teddy at the top and maybe he'll stop being such a sadistic arse - though who knows, that might make it worse.