Thus Spoke Draco Malfoy
Four Years Old
Mother is a bit concerned that you seem to have no more than a token interest in most of the gifts you received for your recent birthday. You're not sure why she's surprised; when have you ever indicated that you wanted a toy broomstick? If you want to ride around the house on a majestic steed that's what Dobby's for.
Father is altogether more sensible; he still won't permit you to have your own quills and ink, but the box of crayons and the never-ending sketchpad he got you are already being put to vigourous use.
You frown at the drawing, as though your disappointment alone could edit it into something worthwhile. Sadly this is not the case; the portrait of Lucius looks nothing like its subject.
"Can't we do better?" you ask your companion, a spectral boy in a checker-brimmed tophat and a long white coat. "Father won't like it if it isn't good."
The boy remains as silent as ever, frowning alongside you. You don't mind. It's nice to have someone in your life who listens whenever you talk. Mother's all right about that, but not as good as your friend. He's been with you as long as you can remember; he used to be friends with the artist in your dreams, but for some reason he came to stay with you.
"Dobby thinks it looks very nice, young master," the house elf making your bed says timidly.
"Don't be stupid, Dobby," you reply absently, still examining and mentally-correcting your work. "It looks like a baby drew it."
Immediately, Dobby drops to his knees and knocks his head against the floor. "Bad Dobby," he cries. "Bad!"
Oh, good god, not this again. For some reason whenever you correct Dobby about anything he immediately begins hurting himself in punishment and moaning about how bad he's been. You get exhausted just looking at him.
The wails increase in volume as the moments go by. The ghostboy gives you a look, as if to ask,
Do we really have to put up with this?
Only half aware of what you're doing, you swing your arm around lightning-quick and point your blue crayon at the self-flagellating elf.
"-
Heaven's Door-!"
Dobby crumples to the floor.

You killed him! Good lord, what are you going to do now? He may be just a house elf, but Mother was angry enough when she caught you dissecting that dragonfly; you don't even want to think about what she's going to do when she sees
this!
It is with a great deal of relief that you realize he's still breathing.
It is with complete shock that you realize his face has fallen off.
A hinge beside one of those massive ears is all that connects the skin of Dobby's face to his head; the features stand exposed to the air. Surprisingly, there isn't any blood. As you get closer, you observe with great interest that apparently elves have things written on their insides. You aren't a very good reader yet, but those are unmistakably words, just like in the storybooks your mother reads you. There are even pictures, you discover as you turn the 'pages'. One is of your Father with a stern expression on his face, and another is of a house elf you don't recognize.
Is this a story about Dobby? The very idea is bizarre to you; elves don't have stories about them. Elves don't
do anything besides clean and cook.
Still, if that's true, why is the book so thick?
When you see a whole page full of pictures of Dobby punishing himself, you scowl. Who wants to read a book about someone who never does anything but twist his ears and iron his hands and stuff? You draw a big X over those pictures. Maybe now he'll get the hint and stop being so annoying.
Hm. Now that you think about it, it will never do for Dobby to go walking around with his face hanging open. If his words and pictures fell out he might not be able to work anymore, and then Father would have to chop his head off. As interesting as that would be to watch, it would be a shame to chop off the book's head before you could read it. Gently, you close the door.
After a minute, Dobby sits up, a strange, slightly dazed expression on his face.
"Go away," you say. "You make too much noise and it's distracting when I'm trying to draw."
"... yes, Master Draco," Dobby says slowly, and with a loud crack he disapparates.
Wonderful. Now where was that white crayon? Maybe if you start with it and layer the darker colours over top you can get Father's hair right...
=
Name: Draco Abraxas Malfoy
Former Identity: Kishibe Rohan. Mangaka, author of Pink Dark Boy (bestselling shounen horror-mystery series),
occasional Gucci model.
Perks:
Slave Of The Muses - Nothing is more important to you than your art and sharing it with the world. You will not rest until you have achieved perfect understanding of the Reality underpinning your drawings.
It's Your World; Everyone Else Just Lives In It - Allow me to reiterate.
Nothing is more important to you than your art. You have a rudimentary sense of morality, on par with a child's, and it is not likely to develop any further.
Special Abilities:
Heaven's Door - This is your Stand, a manifestation of your life energy. Invisible to people without strong spiritual sensitivity (ie muggles, most wizards), it is capable of accelerating your drawing or writing speed to superhuman levels. At your word, those who have seen your drawings and had a significant emotional reaction to them can be temporarily sedated and transformed into human-shaped books, in which are written their life stories as they have experienced them. If you write commands in a person's memory book, they will be forced to obey not merely the letter of the order, but the spirit as well. You can also edit people's memories by tearing out pages.
Limitations include the fact that Heaven's Door cannot reveal memories of events in which you participated - for example, if the person being read was by your side for the entirety of your birthday party, you can't look up what their experience of the party was like to get a Rashomon thing going. Furthermore, Heaven's Door cannot enhance your artistic ability beyond the speed-boost; if you want to get the most out of it, you'll have to grind your Drawing stat something fierce.
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Pre-emptive disclaimer: Let's not get too out-there with the orders, shall we, fellas? Rohan-sensei doesn't necessarily come across as asexual to me, but you have to admit he's a little too obsessed with the ideal of Reality to use Heaven's Door to snag chicks.
Hell, the thought of him picking up chicks at all is more than a bit ludicrous. He's like if Sasuke were a
likeable asshole.