Purusu

Chapter the First

I took Muggle Studies my fifth year.

I'm not crazy. I'm not. I just took it to spite my Father. He was a huge bastard all summer. Get over it.

It wasn't that bad of a class, though I could blame my dropping grades on it if I really had to. It was boring. I took it because I'd dropped Care of Magical Creatures, which was pointless in itself (Mum wanted me to continue, but she's soft for animals, and she'd been wanting to get a baby dragon for the household, but it wasn't like I was going to mother it for her every summer.) and since I had an empty elective, and nothing seemed interesting, one of the teachers whipped out a pen and scribbled "Muggle Studies", suggesting it aloud but not really listening to my opinion.

I didn't care too much, it seemed like just a lot of reading. Father would get pissed off, but then, that was a good thing, and like I said. Who cares?

The rest of my house seemed concerned, like I was maybe going soft or something. I told them some story about knowing the enemy and they all laid off; they even seemed upset that you could no longer switch classes.

Of course, after a week or so, I discovered that there was a special Quidditch Skills Workshop elective I could have taken instead at the same time. That sort of ruined it all.

Somewhere around Christmas I stopped doing my Muggle Studies homework. It was a really boring class. Normally, you know, I'd do all of my homework, plus read the next chapter, just so the teacher wouldn't surprise me and make me look stupid or anything. And I did, at the beginning of the year. But I stopped. Because it was boring.

And because the Quidditch teams practiced out the window during the class.

Okay. I changed my mind. I don't want to write a story anymore. Bye.

Okay. Okay. Fine.

I hate the cold.

It might surprise you. I mean, I am "cold". You know it, and believe it or not, I know it too--I mean, it's obvious, and I'm not stupid. I'm hellspawn, evil, glinty-eyed, nasty sneer, rubbing hands together maliciously. This is common knowledge.

Yes....I am feeling rather sardonic today. And yes, I do hate Harry Potter with all my tiny, black soul.

Anyway, I was saying, I hate the cold. I do. I was raised in a castle. I go to school in a castle (which is still cold, magically heated as it is). I live in the dungeons, etcetera etcetera etcetera. I may rub my hands together maliciously, but believe me, it's because I'm freezing.

I sat in Muggle studies, staring through the boring teacher at the blackboard, covered in stupid-sounding Muggle words, trying to ignore the droning noises coming out of the round professor's mouth as he lectured on household appliances. And trying to be warm.

There were no other Slytherins in my class--None. Of course there were none. No right-minded Slytherin would concern himself with Muggle Studies. I sneered to myself; yep, Draco's gone loony.

When I was seven, I had a plan for my entire life--and it did not include Muggle Studies, but we've been over that. I was going to learn everything my father knew, then I was going to go work in a different country until he got arrested one of these days, or perhaps died if I was lucky, then I would come back home and take over the estate. I smiled at myself; it still wasn't a bad idea, despite how the Dark Lord had to be fit in. Maybe "He-Who-Is-Real-Ashamed" wouldn't mind so much if I live in Japan while he either takes over the world or gets himself killed again.

I shifted in my seat and tried not to look toward the window, instead staring at the back of the head of the Ravenclaw in front of me. What would I do, once out of Hogwarts, anyway? When I was seven, I wanted to rule the world, like any knowledgeable seven-year-old. But it had sort of been done, and besides, Father seemed so adamant that the Dark Lord, and no other, was supposed to rule the world. Ok, Father--sure. Whatever you say, m'lud.

Oh, and the Dark Lord is so evil, too. Ooh, can't stand him he's so evil.

I do believe that Dark Magic is stronger than all other kinds. In cheap action books--like the one this girl on my left is reading under her desk--you know, the good and the righteous always win over the dark and evil. It doesn't matter that the evil is always stronger and blacker and more powerful--if you're good, I mean, if you're the clichéd Potter-esque character in the story and you have spirit, you'll win, despite whatever odds there are. You wonder why they even worry about it.

But that's in fiction, and Dark Magic is real and it is powerful. According to Snape, it's not evil in itself. Naturally, the strongest kind of magic would be used by the most ambitious of wizards, and the power they'd get would corrupt them. So after so many corrupted wizards were using the magic, they started calling it Darkand banning it. Waste of magic, as I see it.

And I don't really mind the Dark Lord, though I don't think he's really all too smart. So, what if he did take over? What would happen once he finished torturing all his enemies, ransacking the countryside, killing all the Muggles? With all their, er--blenders? According to our favorite fictional plots, he'd either grow lazy and be killed by the one or two people he didn't kill, or he would turn on his own people, and then they would turn on him, and he'd be done with anyway. Still, fiction or not, if push comes to shove, I'd much rather be on his side.

But Father? If I were the ruler of the world, I'd dispose of him first.

Obsessive ninny.

I guess the closest you can come to being the ruler of the world would be to work at the Ministry of Magic, and you can't really be evil there. Oh well, you can't have everything. Maybe I'd become the Minister. Wouldn't that be a hoot? Draco Malfoy, Minister of Magic. Yeah.

Maybe I would become a Muggle.

Well, one thing's for sure.

I'd be an electrician.