Chapter 1: I Am Draco Malfoy.

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**Chapter 1: I Am Draco Malfoy.**

One January day, after reading my favorite book for the hundredth time, titled *Warlock in the Magus World*, I couldn't help but sigh in contentment.

*Haa—*

While reading, everything felt fine; I could ignore my surroundings and immerse myself in the story, forgetting who I was and enjoying it as if I were living it myself. But when I finished reading, it was like waking up from a pleasant dream. I became aware of where I was.

It's not as if my situation was easy to forget, but it was sad even to think about it. I would often lose myself in books intentionally to avoid thinking about my reality, but every time I stopped reading, I had to return to it.

All around me were beds with white sheets. I could see my roommates, all of us waiting for death.

Originally, I came from an orphanage in the north of the country, a developing nation. As a child, I was often sick, but neither my caregivers, my companions, nor I gave it much importance.

After all, the phrase "It's normal for children to get sick" was a part of my daily life.

The lack of care and attention left me with no time when the real illness appeared.

*Leukemia.*

It was too advanced to treat, and even if treatment was possible, I would need a bone marrow donor, which, in my situation, obviously wasn't going to happen.

There were always nurses telling me not to lose hope, but no matter how comforting they tried to be, I had already lost hope in myself, so I didn't expect others to be sincere in their hope for me.

"Ramiro."

I called out to my roommate next to me. Ramiro could be considered my best friend in this place. The other people were either too busy or too depressed to have a conversation. Ramiro was different. Whenever he looked at me, he gave me a radiant smile as if everything was fine. He never told me that everything was going to be okay, which made me appreciate his sincerity. If given the chance, he could talk for hours until he passed out.

"Ramiro."

I repeated because it seemed he hadn't heard me. Ramiro had been here for ten years, eight more than me. He was one of the oldest members of this room.

"RAMIRO."

I shouted as loud as I could, but he still didn't respond. He wasn't asleep because I could see his eyes open, staring into nothingness, not making a sound, lying with his mouth slightly open.

"RAMI—"

I stopped mid-shout because I realized he wasn't breathing. I wanted to get up to check on him, but I hadn't been able to stand up on my own for over six months. I didn't have the strength in my arms even to drag myself.

"HELP."

I shouted again with all I had, my voice hoarse, but I had no choice but to keep yelling.

"What happened?"

A nurse hurried in after hearing my screams.

"Ramiro isn't breathing, please do something," I begged, my voice cracking.

I pleaded with the nurse. She called in others from the medical staff, and together they tried to revive him. Not long after, the head doctor entered, a short man with a terrible temper. He began yelling at everyone for starting the resuscitation without him present.

I wanted to get up and punch him or at least yell the truth at him, but I didn't have the strength in my body to even murmur.

After five minutes of trying to revive him, the doctor pronounced the time of death. They brought in a stretcher and took his body away.

It all happened so fast; I couldn't process what had happened. I wanted to cry, to express my sorrow over this loss, but I couldn't. I was too exhausted. I wanted to sleep, but I couldn't. A chilling cold began to spread through my bones.

I wanted to ask for help, but I couldn't. I could feel the cold invading me more and more. I felt trapped in a frozen lake, unable to move my arms to escape. I tried to scream with all I had, but I couldn't; no sound came out. I didn't know how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity until I lost consciousness.

In the darkness, I felt lost. I didn't know who I was or what I was doing. I only knew that I wanted to feel warmth again, so even though I didn't know if I was moving forward, I kept going. I kept going and going. Maybe an hour had passed, or a day, or perhaps just seconds. I couldn't discern time; I only knew I wanted warmth.

At some point, I felt the warmth I was seeking, so I embraced it, even though I didn't know if I was really hugging something. I couldn't see anything; I didn't even know if I had arms or a body, but I could feel it. I felt it surrounding me and pulling me into that warmth until...

"Draco..."

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jumped up and opened my eyes. I could see a tall woman, with blue eyes, blonde hair, and very pale skin.

"Excuse me... ma'am?"

I was so scared I didn't even know what I was saying.

"Are you alright?"

The woman asked, seeing me defensive, with the sheets covering half my face. She approached me and touched my forehead, taking her time. Even though I was scared, I didn't avoid her. Somehow, the warmth of her hand made me feel at peace.

"You don't seem sick. Did you have a nightmare?"

She asked while stroking my hair. I shook my head in denial.

"No?"

"I don't remember."

In reality, I didn't remember anything or understand what was happening, but I felt at peace. I didn't have any emotional reason to start a drama; I didn't understand anything, but I felt comfortable and safe.

"Alright, I won't bother you anymore. Just remember that today we're going shopping for your things for when you go to Hogwarts. Don't take too long; remember that your father doesn't like to be kept waiting."

After saying that, she turned around and started to leave the room.

"Hogwarts?" I repeated the word. It seemed familiar, but I didn't know what it was.

"Harry Potter?... Harry Potter!"

As if the name of that boy who lived made something click in my brain, I suddenly remembered everything. I knew who I was, what I did, and how I lived.

I knew I was an orphan living in an orphanage, hospitalized in a public hospital due to a terminal illness. Poor Ramiro had died right in front of my eyes, and I had been plunged into the coldness of my bones.

I couldn't remember much else, but this woman called me 'Draco.' I knew that wasn't my name. I couldn't help but get up to check. I got up almost unconsciously without thinking much, but after taking just two steps, I couldn't believe it.

I was walking. How long had it been since I'd lost the ability even to take a step?

But this brief moment of mobility made me want to cry. It made me think that this was all just a fantasy dream, and if it wasn't a fantasy, how could I explain that I could walk?

Almost like a dream, like the ones I've had countless times, where I was running with my friends from the orphanage. I always wanted to play sports, to play with my friends, but I was always sick, weak, and struggled to do physical activities. The idea that this was all a dream made me feel a certain heaviness in my chest.

More calmly, I approached a nearby mirror. I could see the features, and I couldn't recognize them. It was a very handsome boy with blonde hair and gray eyes. I'd never seen anyone with gray eyes, but there I was, staring at those unreal eyes.

My mind started to clear, and I could think calmly again. The words began to replay in my mind—'Hogwarts,' 'Harry Potter,' 'Draco.'

I looked at the boy in the mirror again, and I understood.

"I am Draco Malfoy..."