In Wiltshire, in northern England, a stately manor stood surrounded by carefully designed gardens.
At the center of the gardens, a fountain sprayed jets of water day and night.
White peacocks wandered freely through the grounds, and an exquisite wrought-iron gate guarded the entire estate.
This was the Malfoy family Manor, home to one of the wizarding world's wealthiest families.
Draco Malfoy thought his summer holiday was utterly miserable. He had never expected his father to start lecturing him before they had even left the carriage.
Once they arrived home, his father brought up, one by one, all the things Malfoy had been "proud of."
His verdicts included "stupid," "utterly idiotic," "are you even a member of the Malfoy family?" and "is this what I taught you?"
Narcissa looked at the livid Malfoy in the drawing room and their son, who stood with his head lowered without saying a word. She felt rather at a loss.
She had never seen anything like this before. Though the Malfoy family had a poor reputation, Lucius truly loved her, and they had a sensible, obedient child.
That had always been enough to make Narcissa very happy, but now ripples seemed to have disturbed her peaceful life.
Pressing her thin lips together, Narcissa walked over, put an arm around Malfoy's shoulders, and said softly:
"Draco, apologize to your father. He only wants what's best for you!"
Apologize? Why should I apologize? Malfoy recalled everything that had happened that year. He had always followed his father's teachings, never opening his heart to anyone.
Nor had he made any real friends. Everyone was simply either useful or useless.
He had moved cautiously among them all.
It had left him feeling lonelier than ever before.
Until that figure, who seemed as radiant as the sun, stepped forward.