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Chapter Text

A knock.

Another knock.

It broke the heavy silence in the room and brought Draco out of his thoughts. A soft female voice said from somewhere behind him.

“Draco... darling, it's time.”

He nodded slowly in reply, not turning to face the person who spoke to him. He heard the rustling of fabric and the sound of heels on wooden floors, which became quieter and quieter. Until the room was coated in silence again.

Draco sighed, standing in front of his bedroom window, which overlooked the garden and the Manor lands beyond. It was a rainy day, grey mist hanging over the estate. Like shielding the manor from the outside world and protecting what was going to happen inside.

The Manor felt gloomy and lonely - Draco had never noticed … no perceived his home like this before, even in bad weather the estate seemed liveable. But not today, it was as if even the plants and the sky knew that what was about to happen was unnatural. He watched how a lonely black owl with keen orange eyes flew away from his father’s office. Draco knew the owl would return sooner or later but for the moment he was jealous of its freedom to ride the wind wherever it might lead.

He shook his head; he had to concentrate. His gaze shifted from the view to his faintly recognisable reflection in the window. Draco was pale, paler than usual and had he not known it was him who he saw in the window, he would have thought he saw a ghost.

His light blond hair was slicked back, and dark circles were prominent under his ice-blue eyes. He had become thin, his cheekbones now striking features of his face, the black suit fitted loosely around his narrow waist. Another sigh, he should get going, this was his day.

He took a step back from the window, turned round and crossed his room. His gaze lingered on the mirror next to his door, which confirmed what he had already made out in his reflection. His exhaustion was obvious, he had the feeling that every sleepless hour of the last few weeks was visible and even his best black suit could not hide that fact.

At his father's request, he wore the family coat of arms as a pin on his tie and as a ring. He looked lost - like a shell from his former self, it was even worse in the mirror than in the window. The blond averted his gaze and took the last step out of the room.

The way to the Great Hall of the Manor, where the initiation would take place, led through the East Wing, and through a corridor where family portraits lined the walls and the ceiling, eying everyone who walked past intently. Malfoy avoided walking through this corridor whenever possible. It felt like a walk-through hell, where everything had eyes and ears - and mouths that had to shout everything the people in the portraits were thinking of. The portraits showed generations of generations of Malfoys, Blacks, and Lestranges.

When he approached said corridor Draco increased his pace, but that didn't stop the portraits from hollering after him You will be the downfall of the house or Useless little Malfoy has something to prove or Why would the Dark Lord choose you?. The voices grew louder and more unbearable, it was now a chorus of voices shouting against each other. For this exact reason, he usually avoided this corridor. And if Draco had allowed himself to think for even a second, he would have asked himself the same question Why me?

But he didn’t, scared of what his thoughts might reveal to himself or worse for others. He took a sharp breath in, clearing his mind and then he muttered occlumency under his breath.

His mother had taught him the secret art of occlumency a few years back. Since then, Draco went nowhere without using it as a precaution, so no one could snoop around in his mind and emotions.

He could feel the familiar cold emptiness spread in his mind and a numbing blanket laying itself over his emotions. This was the price the spell asked from him. But Draco had long been accustomed to this, the tension in his shoulders eased, it was the only way he could participate in social outings.

Draco hurried through the rest of the hallway and reached the stairs without looking any of the portraits in the eye or responding to their calls, which only fuelled their anger. However, a person dressed in entirely black with wild curly hair was already waiting for him at the top of the stairs. The mockery of the portraits quickly forgotten at that sight.

The person paced nervously back and forth the length of the staircase with a crooked wand in her right hand. Bellatrix muttered to herself, and Draco briefly hoped to get past her and take the stairs unnoticed, but her keen black eyes fixed on him, and this hope vanished into thin air.

“Draco,” she growled “you're late! The Dark Lord will be here any second.” She hissed and took a step in his direction, her eyes pinned Draco in place.

“Remember Draco, this is an honour for our family! Anyone would kill for this opportunity.” Bellatrix said fiercely as she slowly raised her wand to poke under his chin.

"Don't you dare mess this up! We don't need another disappointment like Regulus was!" Her wand lay probing at Draco's skin. She lifted his chin so that he had no choice but to look her in the eye. Her gaze was full of hatred and loathing, but there was another thing - desire, a desire for power and prestige.

In that moment he realized that she would kill for this opportunity... she would kill him if it meant being in the Dark Lord's favour. Of that he had no doubt.

"Let him go, Bella." His mothers voice rang out from the foot of the stairs. "Draco is well aware of his duty and responsibility!"

A dirty laugh came from Bellatrix. "Narcissa, coming to the rescue of your little Draco darling once again. How pathetic, you know you can't always protect your little prince! This is his burden to shoulder, not yours Zissa." She remarked, her eyes not leaving Draco even for a moment.

Bellatrix slowly lowered her wand and took a step back. She turned around quickly, dropping Draco's gaze, and walked hastily down the grand staircase. Narcissa had already disappeared again, which left Draco alone on the grand staircase.

He looked around, the portraits behind him in the corridor had fallen silent again and a low murmur of hushed conversation drifted up to him from the great hall below. Draco knew his task, as well as what was expected of the role, he would be taking on today. There was no need to remind him, it was the only thing that had been talked about for the last few weeks. These conversations were more or less with him – rather Draco was present while they talked about him and his future role and honour. His opinion was irrelevant, it had to be obeyed what his father deemed right no matter what.

It had always been like that. His father chose who he should and should not be friends with. Before Draco even went to Hogwarts he had been taught strictly at home, he had to practise his manners and posture, he had to read at least an hour a day in the house library and master the basics in each of his future subjects and most importantly he had to be perfect. At least in his father's eyes, if Draco couldn't comply, he was useless to him. His mother on the other hand, she tried to protect him from his father at least sometimes she did, something Draco would call love. He sometimes hoped that at least his mother loved him.

He shook his head, a new habit of his, as if trying to get rid of his memories of the past, none of it mattered anymore, he reminded himself. Draco ran his hand through his blond hair, checked his collar and adjusted his tie pin before slowly walking down the stairs, step by step, hoping to delay the inevitable a little longer.

The large hall of the Manor had curved ceilings, large windows framed on both sides by silken dark green curtains, offering a view of the well-tended garden and the small fountain in the centre. The walls on the other side of the hall were lined with large family portraits that watched the people in the hall intently but were otherwise silent - in contrast to the portraits from earlier. At the end of the hall was a large fireplace framed with black painted brick and a long dining table with chairs on all sides.

From the ceiling, chandeliers floated across the room, each one pointing to where light was needed an ever-changing ballet that was orchestrated by the people wandering through the hall, yet the hall seemed cool, and the atmosphere was tense.

A few people were already seated, the rest were standing in small groups or pairs near the table, chatting politely. However, nothing louder than a murmur or a whisper could be heard. Some of these people Draco has known since birth, others he had never seen before. He walked further into the hall, his eyes searching for his father.

Draco caught sight of him, his long blond hair tied back in a firm ponytail, bobbing unmistakably back and forth in front of the fireplace. Beside him, he could make out his mother; they seemed to be engaged in a heated conversation. He could roughly guess what it was about. His father was probably complaining about what was taking Draco so long and how important it all was and so on.

He was the only son of the Malfoy family and the youngest to be granted a dark mark in years. He had to carry on the family tradition and shoulder the burden of mistrust because of his age and his predecessor.

Slowly Draco made his way through the hall to his father. While trying to avoid being pulled into any conversation, he caught sight of Snape leaning against a pillar between the windows. He stood far away from any conversation, as if he wanted to disappear into the shadows.

Snape observed the crowd in silence until his gaze stopped on the approaching Draco. His gaze was cold and sharp, trained to reveal nothing of himself. He nodded briefly at Draco and turned his attention back to the rest of the people in the hall.

Suddenly the atmosphere in the room changed, Draco paused in his tracks, the chandeliers flickered and dimmed, the whole room seemed cooler than it had only a second before, the hairs on the drape of his neck stood up. His gaze wandered towards the fireplace where his father and mother paused in their conversation.

Controlled panic broke out in the room, it seemed as if everyone had come to the same conclusion: The Dark Lord would arrive any second. The people who were still standing flocked to their seats at the table and the chandeliers placed themselves above the table. Draco had to hurry to get to his father's side in time.

This was not the first time he would meet the Dark Lord. Death Eater meetings had been taking place at the Manor for as long as Draco could remember. When he was younger, he was forbidden to attend the meetings. Draco often had to stay in his room for hours on end, his only playmates being the house elves he called in.

As he grew older, he was allowed to leave his room as long as he stayed away from the Great Hall. Draco liked to spend his time in the house library or in the glassed-in tearoom. But since the Dark Lord returned in fourth year, he had been allowed to attend the Death Eater meetings. That meant he was allowed to be in the same room, sit in silence, behave, and listen in.

Thus, he knew exactly what it felt like when the Dark Lord approached. The first signs always were unease and darkness. From Draco's experience, the feelings only got worse from there.

It grew colder in the room until he could feel the chill in his bones. A gust of wind blew through the room, the chandeliers flickered, and Nagini the Dark Lord's serpent and harbinger appeared on the dining table.

His father once told him that as soon as he received his Dark Mark, he was able to feel the Dark Lord's arrival and presence in the Dark Mark. Because the Mark would pulsate and tingle with dark magic when the Dark Lord was nearby. Draco had asked if it hurt to receive and wear the mark, to which his father had replied that the pain was an honour. He had then sent Draco away, clearly annoyed that a six-year-old Draco couldn't grasp this concept.

The blond hurriedly scurried to his father's side, who only looked at him disapprovingly. Draco knew that if the Dark Lord wouldn’t appear at any moment now, it would have been much worse than just that look.

He stood next to him at the head of the table in front of the brightly lit fireplace, as he was expected to welcome the Dark Lord. Nagini, who was already lying on the table, stared at him with eyes that looked too human for his liking. Not even the radiating warmth of the fire could prevent the cold shiver that ran down his spine. She watched his every move as if she were weighing his worth and examining every inch of his soul.

He focused his attention on the occlumency charm he had cast earlier. Since he could still make out the cold smooth numbness of the charm, obscuring his thoughts and emotions, his gaze shifted back to the serpent now reassured of the fact that she couldn’t read his mind. Draco wasn't exactly afraid of her, you just had to be careful, because he had seen how she attacked without any warning. She was agile and deadly, not to be messed with. Apart from this, he didn't quite grasp what was so special about her and why she never left Voldemort's side.

Draco heard a plop, and the Dark Lord appeared at the head of the table where he and his father stood waiting. The sudden presence of the Lord sent a shiver down Draco's spine as the little remaining colour drained from his face.
Chairs were pulled back and the assembled Death Eaters stood up and bowed, Draco doing the same.

“Sit down! We have more important things to attend to than formalities.” The Dark Lord hissed as his long, slender fingers stroked Nagini's head.

Lord Voldemort wore dark green almost black, floor-length robes, Draco noticed that the Lord looked greyer and frailer than usual. Nevertheless, he had a dark and terrifying aura that could be felt throughout the room. The Dark Lord was the epitome of power and Draco suddenly felt very small as his heart rate started picking up speed.

Bewildered, Draco realised that he was the only one still standing. His father was already in his seat, waiting for Draco to sit down in between him and his mother. On the other side, to his great delight, Snape and Bellatrix were sitting next to each other. Everyone knew that the two of them couldn't stand each other and that any clash would end in an argument and most likely a duel. This could be attributed to the hot-headedness of his aunt, who had a problem with anyone who was more in the Dark Lord's favour than she was. Draco made endeavours to sit down.

“Not you, young Malfoy! Or have you forgotten why we're here?” Lord Voldemort sneered, and Draco froze.

“No, of course not, my Lord.” Draco replied bashfully and turned back to him fleetingly, his head bowed.

“Good,” and a sinister sound that could have been a laugh rang out in the great hall. “Good, so Draco, tell me; are you willing to sacrifice your life for my cause?” Draco felt a wand slowly lift his chin until he had no choice but to look into the Dark Lord's cold grey eyes. As in Bellatrix's gaze earlier, Draco could see desire and greed.

“Are you ready to follow in your father's footsteps and become my servant, a Death Eater? Are you ready to follow me without question and carry out any order I give you? And if you fail, are you prepared to repent for your behaviour and pay for it with your life?” Lord Voldemort asked insistently.

The Dark Lord's gaze bored into Draco's mind. It felt as if he could see everything, as if Draco's soul lay before him like a picture book that he would tear apart at any moment. Still, the blond tried to train his features into his usual mask of arrogance and determination, with the hopes that his occlumency techniques had been perfected over the years.

“I will follow you until my grave catches up with me. I want to become a Death Eater.” Draco replied in a what he hoped passed as a firm voice, just as his father had taught him.

Lord Voldemort removed his wand from under Draco's chin and with a practised movement, he swiftly yanked Draco's left arm upwards, exposing the pale underside.

A burning sensation spread, it felt as if a snake had been lit on fire and was now drilling into his arm. A dark red mark started to appear on Draco's forearm, on which Voldemort pressed his wand against Draco’s skin and said, “Until death finds you.”

The red stain began to pulsate and sting. Draco bit his lower lip and hissed, he continued to stare at his forearm, but his vision continued to blur, and his knees began to shake. The dark red stain darkened, and slowly but surely Draco could make out the black outline of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth.

So that was it. The pain and the feeling that should be an honour... a privilege. But if Draco was honest, nothing felt like a privilege, he felt terrible. Draco would have liked to throw up there and then. He wanted to crawl back to his room and hide from everyone to think about the decision he had just made - which had never been his decision. But- there was no turning back now, since the Dark Mark was gradually darkening.

The Dark Lord lifted his wand from his forearm and looked at the audience as if he expected applause for this great performance. The Death Eaters at the table rose to their feet.

“Until we conquer death.” echoed in the otherwise dead silent hall.

Draco lifted his gaze from his arm, proud faces gazed back at him, the worried and uncertain looks from before had disappeared.

Except for his mother, she might be good at hiding her true feelings or thoughts from anyone else but not from Draco. He had learnt occlumency from her, he knew the tactics, which is why he didn't miss the worried look in her eyes. His gaze wandered to his father, who nodded briefly in acknowledgement and pointed to the chair next to him. The sign for Draco to take his place and sit down.

As he took his first step, he realised that his knees were trembling, and Draco buckled slightly to the side. He managed to hold on to his father's chair in time and straightened up again as much as possible. When he reached his seat, Draco nodded once, and everyone sat down again. Just in time before Draco's legs would have given up, he was welcomed by the soft cushions of his chair.

“Well, now that that's done, we can get on with the important business, regarding--,” he could feel the Dark Lord's gaze shift in his direction again, and Nagini's did the same.

And suddenly Draco understood what his father had tried to explain to him all those years ago, Draco could sense Voldemort. Not in a disgustingly intimate way, rather his presence and the connection to him because of the Dark Mark. It pulsed and pricked his skin as if thousands of needles were penetrating his skin at once and this feeling changed depending on whether the Dark Lord was moving or standing, just as his father had said.

He slowly lifted his head to meet the scowls of Nagini and Voldemort at the end of the table.

“--Draco's trial to pay for Lucius' wrong doings and mishaps that have happened over the years. The rules are simple: if Draco is unable to fulfil these tasks, he will die.” The Dark Lord looked pleased at this prospect, while Draco's heart sank into the ground.

His what?

His trial to pay for his father’s transgressions? What did that mean.

Draco’s heart was beating fast as if it wanted to jump out of his chest. He was aware that he was breathing too fast but couldn’t stop himself.

What tasks was he supposed to complete. Why had nobody mentioned this? Nobody had cared to tell him.

His head was spinning his father had made a deal with Voldemort, he – his own father- had sacrificed Draco to save himself one last time. Draco had to save him at the cost of his own life, he had to atone for his father’s mistakes.

It was a deal with the devil, either with Lord Voldemort or with his father, he would be betrayed and deceived on either side. This wasn't black or white where you could choose a side, this was only black or black. Draco felt like the floor had opened and swallowed him whole. The shock about what he had just heard hitting him in waves. Anger, grief, frustration, hurt, despair all of that came and went, leaving him cold and numb. He felt sick, his stomach churning concerningly.

He was a puppet in a rigged game.

Perhaps in another life, the father will save his son. Maybe in another life, Draco's father would stand up for his mistakes and protect him. Maybe... but not in this one. Not here, here Draco was the scapegoat, to blame for every misfortune, whether it had been his fault or not. Maybe his father was just angry, it didn't matter, Draco was and had always been the punching bag. Draco was there to uphold the family tradition and save the grace it still had left; he had to be the model son.

Nobody cared if this deal would get him killed, it wasn't about him, it was about the family's image. It was about his father, just as it had always been about him and what he wanted.

Draco’s mind was racing, he hadn’t known about this beforehand, nobody had said anything. His father must’ve known, HE made the deal and still didn’t think a little heads up would be necessary. It wouldn’t have even changed the outcome because none of this had ever been Draco’s decision nor his place to refuse. And still they had kept him in the dark. Draco had blindly tapped into the trap and since- since he had already gotten his Mark, there was no return. He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t back out of this… Panic was rising in his chest.

The Dark Lords voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “And you, Lucius, who offered me his son to save the honour of his family, if he fails, you will lose your place in my entourage. Your family will be disinherited from any glory and you, and your wife will die through my hand.” his gaze travelled from his father to his mother.

“The Malfoy family will pay for YOUR mistakes, Lucius. Is that clear?”

“Yes, my lord.” The three replied in union. Draco didn't even realise he had answered, his head was buzzing, he just wanted to get out of here. The room began to grow fuzzy, the urge to vomit stronger again.

“Draco,” the Dark Lord turned back to him. “Your first task will be to bring me Mr Olivander, the wandmaker. I believe you are familiar with him. He must be alive, or the task will not be completed! Do whatever you have to do to bring him to me. You have one week.” Lord Voldemort pierced him with his gaze, Nagini hissed something as if she wanted to underline the Dark Lords statement. Lord Voldemort replied to her in a similar hiss.

One week... it was the last week of the holidays, after that he might or might not go back to Hogwarts. If he did, he would have to pretend that everything was the same as always. As if he wasn't a Death Eater now and only inches away from his own death. The corners of his mouth twitched; he wanted to let out a laugh, a scream, anything really...

His father placed a golden Mask on the table in front of him. It looked like a gilded skull, holes for eyes, nose, and mouth, with the mouth appearing to be sewn shut. On closer inspection, engravings could be seen, curved vines spreading across the entire surface of the mask.

The Mask was used for missions to conceal their personal identity and at the same time to spread fear and panic amongst the people. He had seen his father put it on multiple times before but the prospect of having to wear it himself--
Draco stroked the bridge of the mask's nose with his index finger; the gold was cool and smooth, only the engraving gave it texture. He leaned forward slightly, his exhausted-looking reflection looking back at him as if he was nothing more than a mask of himself. A mask and a mask looking at each other; ironic wasn’t it.

“You shall receive notice of your next task as soon as Olivander is in the dungeons of this Manor.”

“Yes, my lord.” Draco replied weakly. The subject changed and Draco's attention turned again to the mask in front of him and his reflection.

The rest of the meeting flew by, suddenly he heard the scraping of chairs on the floor and the rustling of fabric. He looked up from his reflection in the golden Mask and noticed how everyone was standing up. He hastily did the same, quickly brushed the creases from his suit and bowed.

It was dead silent, everyone frozen in their bows, no-one even dared to blink. Nagini, who was still lying on the table, moved closer to Voldemort and without saying another word, the two of them disapparated with a soft plop. As quickly as they had arrived, they were gone again.

Draco felt the atmosphere in the room ease, and he dared to breathe again. He straightened up and ran his hand through his still perfectly sitting hair. Relieved, he noticed how the Dark Mark stopped stinging and pulsating. His forearm still in pain but Draco could no longer feel Voldemort's presence and power in his Mark.

Quietly, the conversations from before resumed and the gathering slowly dissolved. Draco let himself fall back into his chair with a sigh as the rest of the Death Eaters around him said their goodbyes, some congratulating him. Draco was only able to smile in return, all of his energy sucked out of him.

The Great Hall grew slowly empty, most of the guests on their way to the reception room of the Manor, where the large fireplace was connected to the Floonetwork and the only place on the grounds where you could Apparate and Disapparate. Of course, these rules did not apply to the Dark Lord. He was able to intrude the Manor's protective spells without any problems.

The Hall was unusually quiet not even the portraits picked up conversations. And Draco felt empty and numb, and this time not only because of his occlumency.

It was getting late, and the sun had set, if it had risen at all that day. The meeting had lasted longer than he had anticipated. Draco stood in front of his window and looked out at the lands disappearing into the darkness. The room was in semi-darkness, with only the faint bluish light from outside revealing the silhouettes of the bed and desk. It was mostly quiet, the wind rustling through the trees outside his window was the only noise to be heard.

Draco took his eyes off the view and slowly approached his bed. He took off his jacket and dropped it on his bed, slowly sitting down next to it. The springs of the mattress squeaked softly under his weight. He pulled his wand from its holder in the sleeve of his shirt and placed it carefully on his bedside table next to a book on potions from the house library. Draco pulled the switch on his small bedside lamp and a dim warm light illuminated the room.

He sat back upright and slowly rolled up his left sleeve. His eyes fixed on his forearm, the small hope of finding nothing there, dispersed quickly when the black outline of the Dark Mark's snake became visible. Draco pushed his shirt higher until the skull and thus the full Mark became visible.

Carefully his fingers wandered across it, his skin felt normal, and the area didn’t hurt as bad anymore. But the Mark began to move under his fingers, he had seen this often when other Death Eater greeted each other as a form of identification but seeing it move on his own body made his skin crawl.

All colour drained from his face, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He tore his gaze away from his forearm and stumbled into the adjacent bathroom. Crashing into the doorframe Draco struggled to hold onto, his right hand clutching the wood as if desperately trying not to collapse. He straightened up a little, then a second wave of nausea came over him and the blond rushed to the toilet. Trembling, he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and managed to lift the lid just in time before he threw up his stomach acids.

His eyes started to sting because of the acids, tears began to run down his face obscuring his vision. Draco remembered that he hadn’t eaten anything today, the sandwich Kreacher had brought him this morning was still standing untouched on his desk collecting dust.

He lifted his head from the toilet bowl and Draco couldn't help but laugh. It was a bitter laugh, full of pain. Tears continued to make their way down his cheeks to his chin, where they gathered and mixed with the acidic drool from his vomit and then dripped onto the floor as if in slow motion. His gaze followed the drops until he looked at the Dark Mark again.

The snake coiled around itself as if in a figure eight and the skull opened its jaw as it stared up at Draco with its empty eye sockets. It felt like the skull or maybe even the Dark Lord himself was looking at him. And then again not really at him but through him and in his soul. A shiver flitted over his body. He felt the remains of his occlumency spell slipping of his mind and awakening his emotions once again.

He began to scratch at the Mark as if he could pull it off his skin like a sticker. His skin reddened but nothing else happened. Draco turned around frantically and crawled to the bathroom cabinet under the sink. Absentmindedly, he continued to scratch and scratch at his skin with his fingernails, leaving red marks next to the Dark Mark. He ripped open the gold-trimmed cabinet and took out the next best things he encountered, a sponge and lotion.

Draco began to fanatically scrub the area on his forearm.

Draco couldn't think straight panic rising in his chest.

It had to go. It just had to. I can't do this. This is not me. Make it go away! Stop staring at me.

Tears were still streaming down his cheeks.

But nothing happened. The Mark remained unchanged, like a dark stain against his red skin. This was supposed to be his biggest achievement, the moment of his lifetime. But instead, he had just lost everything, it was as if his short and miserable life had ended as soon as the Dark Lords wand had touched his skin.

The dim light of his bedside lamp shone into the bathroom from behind him. The blond who was still kneeling on the floor, had returned to searching the cupboard for something else. For something stronger.

He found bottled cleaning potion, for surfaces, mould or stains. It specifically stated DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE USE ON THE BODY! It didn’t matter, something had to work, it just had to, something stronger something like this.

His whole body was shaking with anger, grief, fear or pain. Probably a mixture of everything. He had been betrayed, a puppet in a rigged game. His own family- his father had sacrificed him. His mind spinning.

He punched the ground with his right hand. The cleaning potion fell onto the ground.
“Aghhhhhh,” Draco screamed into the silence of his room.

He struck again, but this time it didn't hit the ground but his bent knee. He felt pain. But... it- it felt good. He felt something other than the chaos inside him. So, he punched again. And again. Again.

With time the blows became less powerful. Draco was breathing heavily, his eyes were red, his hair was a mess, and his suit was full of wrinkles. Shakily, he took a deep breath.

He blinked a few times through the tears and turned back to the cupboard, where he had dropped the small vial containing the potion.

He carefully picked it up. With trembling hands he unscrewed the lid, choosing to ignore the warnings on the vial, he slowly began to pour the dark green contents onto his arm. It wasn’t going to kill him he assumed and if… things would only get easier for everyone from there.

The liquid collected as a pool on his arm, just above the Dark Mark, slowly darkening. But Draco felt no pain, the potion just laid cold on his arm in a puddle. Then suddenly he winced, sharp pain suddenly shooting up his arm. His arm cramped; it burned.

The potion started to etch away his skin, but not the dark mark.

Draco screamed and writhed in pain. He curled up on the floor, only his arm stretched out on the ground, as if it no longer belonged to him. The smell of burnt flesh rose to his nose, tears stinging his eyes once again. The skin around the Dark Mark soon disappeared and the red muscle flesh could be seen blood spilling out of his arteries faster than he could even realize what was happening. But the Dark Mark remained as black as ever once again a dark stain against his blood.

"K-reach-er," Draco croaked, hoping the house-elf could and would save him. He was the only one, human or creature, that Draco could call without having to explain himself. Black dots appeared in front of his eyes, his eyelids became heavy, and he had the strong urge to vomit again.

"Krea...," Draco tried to call him again, but his voice got stuck in his throat. Struggling to stay awake the blond inhaled sharply, hoping not to lose consciousness. But his eyes wouldn't stay open, and his head was suddenly so heavy, and his limbs were so cold, and everything seemed so far away.

He heard a soft plop somewhere beside him or behind him or...

But everything went black.

Draco startled up. Where was he, what had happened? He was breathing heavily and completely covered in his own sweat. He ran one hand through his blonde hair and absently felt his clothes with the other. He was wearing fresh pyjamas and was currently sitting upright in his bed.

Draco noted for himself and started to look around slowly, the small bedside lamp was still burning, next to it was a still slightly steaming cup of tea and a new untouched sandwich. The rest of the room was dark, just like outside. Only a small strip of light could be seen on the horizon.

Draco shook his head, trying to recollect what had happened. There had been a Death Eater meeting, after which he had gone to his room. No…, No, it hadn't been just any Death Eater meeting, he had gotten to his Mark- and then he had gone upstairs and the bathroom- and, and the pain, a shiver ran through his body and a twinge he hadn't noticed before became apparent.

He frantically rolled up his sleeve and held his left arm up to the light. And there, as if it had never happened, was his Dark Mark. Black on white. He ran his index finger carefully over the skin. He winced, the stinging intensified, and he could feel slight bumps and indentations around his Dark Mark. Scars.

And then the realisation hit him Kreacher had managed to save his life. He was alive and breathing.

“Kreacher,” he whispered softly into the darkness. Less than three seconds later, a small, very old house-elf with a hunched back and crooked nose, dressed in nothing but a piece of cloth, stood before Draco.

“Master, you’re awake,” Kreacher croaked out. “May Kreacher advise Master to lie down again and have something to eat and to drink.” Kreacher pointed to the tea and sandwich he must have put there a short while ago.

“Kreacher, did you save me?” Draco asked him insistently.

“Yes, Kreacher did Master...”, “Did you tell anyone about how you found me or that you healed me?” Draco waited impatiently for an answer.

“No, just as Kreacher had promised Master.” Kreacher bowed his head, looking even more hunched over than he already did. Draco realised that the house-elf was expecting a punishment for his wrongdoing even, so he did the thing that Draco had asked of him.

“Good, very good.” Draco breathed a sigh of relief, no one knew, and the elf wouldn't tell anyone.

Draco had called him in a few weeks ago and made him swear that if he found Draco injured in any way, he would do everything he could to save him without alerting anyone else.

“Kreacher thinks Master, looks just like his father.” Draco winced at the mention of his father. But with the Dark Mark, Draco had become his Doppelgänger, a younger copy of Lucius Malfoy, something he had sworn himself to never become.

“But even more like--,” Kreacher slapped a hand over his mouth and whispered to himself. “Swore to Master, swore to him. Can’t tell anyone.”

Draco's ears perked up. “Who else did you swear to if I am your Master? Who else do I look like, Kreacher?”

“Kreacher apologises for speaking without permission. But Kreacher can't tell Master anything else.” The house-elf scurried away from Draco and made a move to turn round and disappear again.

But Draco grabbed him by his arm and held him tight in place. “Kreacher, I order you to tell me who else I look like.” Draco stared at him. This was a direct order; the elf had no choice but to obey it.

Kreacher turned and writhed as if something was causing him great pain. He croaked and tried to speak. “Ma-aster Re-Regu-lus, S-sir.”

“Master Regulus?” Draco repeated. He had heard that name a lot in the last 24 hours.

“Kreach-,”

“Master, Kreacher is afraid he’ll have to excuse Kreacher now, he must get back to the kitchens to prepare breakfast for the Head of the House.” Kreacher said hastily before disappearing again with a soft plop.

Draco shook his head. Regulus Black? Bellatrix had mentioned him too, twice to be exact. Earlier, once on the stairs and once after almost everyone had left the Great Hall.

Draco looked around, surprised to realise that only he, his parents, Bellatrix and Snape were the only ones left in the Great Hall. The chandeliers had spread evenly throughout the hall again and the portraits on the walls had begun their usual commentary on the events held in the hall. And yet, it was unusually quiet and dark.

Bellatrix was the first to break the silence. “Draco, a Death Eater.” a faint laugh rang out.

“I must say, Draco, you surprised me today. I expected less from you. Do you now realise the honour it is to be a Death Eater; do you feel this power?” She paused dramatically, as if she definitely felt this power.

“Now our family finally has another chance to prove itself to the Dark Lord. You, Draco, are allowed to carry out important tasks for the Dark Lord. What an honour!” Her eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect.

But Draco had the feeling that Bellatrix hadn't really been listening for the last hour. He was being sacrificed to die and then his parents would die as well. That didn't sound like an honour to him, more like betrayal. But Draco remained silent and simply nodded.

Draco’s gaze shifted to his mother who hadn’t said a word all evening long. She seemed lost in thoughts staring into the fireplace. But he wasn’t the only one who had noticed Narcissa’s absentmindedness.

“Zissa...,” Bellatrix hissed and rolled her eyes, “Aren’t you proud of your little Draco?” Narcissa however skilfully ignored her and turned around to face the table.

Her eyes met Draco's and there was a gleam in her eyes, her eyes were glassy with pride and concern. But Draco quickly realised that she was stuck in a memory. He looked at her questioningly. What had she remembered that had almost brought her to tears, he had never seen his mother like this before. She just shook her head and turned her gaze towards the windows.

But Bellatrix had not missed this brief moment and apparently, she had an idea of what his mother had been thinking about.

“You see Regulus in him, don’t you?” her voice again filled with hatred. Narcissa turned her head abruptly in her direction, a whirlwind of emotions written all over her face.

“How can I not? They were both still so young.” she breathed softly, her gaze shifting back to Draco. Her eyes still glazed over with emotions.

“You're forgetting the betrayal he committed.” Bellatrix weighed in fiercely.

“He killed himself rather than die in honour on a Dark Lord's quest. He was simply too weak; the Lord should never have trusted him! He should have sent me; I would die for our Lord; I would have never backed out! But Regulus, Regulus was a coward. He disgraced our family in front of the Dark Lord. Took the easiest way out. What a weakling!” Bellatrix had been talking herself into a rage.

She walked around the table in a hurry towards Draco with her wand raised. Draco backed away as far as the chair he was sitting on allowed. The wand stabbed into his chest, and she leaned over him, her dark curls falling on either side of his face. Her eyes sparking with hatred and her breathing quickened.

“And you Draco are so much like him, like our little Reg. Well, are you going to betray us too? Are you one of those cowards who get overwhelmed and fed up and who choose the first opportunity to back out? Who take the easiest exit? Hmm? Common Draco, come on, tell me so I can kill you beforehand.” Her voice dripped with hostility, and she slowly began to smile her crazy smile.

Draco shook his head, the memory fading. He sat in his dimly lit room, tea and sandwich still untouched. His gaze travelled down to his arm, more specifically to his Dark Mark. His mind raced.

A hoarse laugh escaped him, hadn't he done exactly what Bellatrix had accused him of earlier? What she said Regulus had done? If he had died earlier...

His thoughts took on a life of their own, his brain felt like it was about to explode.

He stood up slowly, tested whether his legs would support his weight and stumbled slowly to the window. It was slowly getting lighter, but even today it looked like another grey day.

He sighed.

There was a knock.

Another knock.

Chapter Text

Harry was shaking, drenched from head to toe and water was dripping down into his eyes. He was freezing in the cold breeze, shivers running down his body. He looked around but his vision was blurred. Only vague schemes of things were dancing in his vision, disorienting him. He could hear the quiet rushing of water and underneath his feet Harry felt small slippery rocks. He blinked a couple of times and could now make out small waves breaking at the shore he was standing at.

Shifting his gaze to look down at himself he saw how his feet slowly transformed back to normal and how the webbed skin between his hands disappeared.

He had just mastered the second task of the Triwizard Tournament but there was no one there on the shore of the lake. No one to celebrate him to congratulate him or to make fun of him for being the last to get out of the water. Harry was freezing, his teeth clattering and all alone.

The night sky reflected on the smooth surface of the lake and cast everything in blueish light.

Suddenly Harry could feel something warm running down his left arm. He made amends to look down to find the cause, but he couldn’t move. It wasn’t because he was frozen in shock no, he had been restrained.

A hilt of a stone scythe was holding him in place, pressing his back against a freezing tombstone. He tried to look around and saw a stone death reaper looming over him. He was fixating Harry on that grave. Unsuccessfully Harry tried to push against his restrains, to wiggle free. Only causing him to slip on the small ledge he was standing on. Panic was rising in his chest.

A person dressed in black was coming towards him, with fluid motions that made it look like he was floating. Harry tried to push and squirm, desperately trying to break free. But there was no escape.

The long flowing black robes made the person look like a shadow. Through the panic Harry tried to brace himself, tried to be prepared for the worst.

The floating person stopped in front of him and grey eyes pierced his soul. Lord Voldemort's gruesome laughter filled the graveyard making Harrys stomach clench. A pale arm emerged from the black robes and a bony index finger inched closer to his face until he felt pressure on his scar.

Immediately pain shot through his entire body, Harry screamed and withered in pain. His body cramped but he couldn’t move couldn’t lessen the pain.

His legs went numb and slipped from the small ledge. Causing his entire weight to press his chest down into the hilt of the scythe crushing his lungs. He was fighting for air, small gasps escaping him. All while an excruciating stabbing pain spread in the centre of his head. Which slowly travelled down his spine, running through every vein. It felt like he was burning alive from the inside out. He desperately tried to move anything, the stone, his body or Voldemort, desperate for a gasp of air to keep him from collapsing.

Then suddenly Voldemort stepped back and removed his finger from Harry’s forehead. The pain stopped, exhaustion was rolling over his body, his feet found halt again and could lift his upper body just enough to breathe.

Harry shifted his gaze to look at Voldemort who was a mere shell of a human. A creature more so, grey eyes with thin elongated pupils, greyish skin and limbs that were too boney to be human.

A scream came from somewhere behind Lord Voldemort. And with one fluid motion the Dark Lord hastily turned around to face the cause of the scream. And Harrys heart sank. Into his view stepped Cedric. Barely able to stand with a deep wound on his head. Harry saw how he raised his wand, and he wanted to scream, to make it stop.

But Cedric had a goal and sent a curse in Voldemort’s direction. Harry knew what was coming. It was inevitable, he had seen it a thousand times over and over again. But Harry still screamed at the top of his lungs even though no sound was leaving him. Tears were streaming down his face and his vision filled with that all too familiar green curse. And he knew it had hit Cedric right in the chest.

He continued to sob as tears were streaming down his face. It wasn’t fair! Cedric didn’t deserve any of this. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. All of this had been Harry’s fault.

Cedric’s corpse landed in the grass his face frozen in shock, his eyes wide open, empty, and lifeless staring at him. At the one who was responsible for his death, Harry he was the reason. He was the reason…

The air around Harry changed, it got even colder, the wind stopped, and the chill was creeping into his bones. Suddenly freed from his restrains he was sinking down to his knees. His body too weak to hold his weight.

It was dead silent, nothing dared to make a sound. Several floating figures manifested around his grave. Slowly inching closer, freezing Harry’s blood in his veins, taking his air and his soul. He could feel it being pulled from his chest, ripping through his bones and faith until it no longer belonged to him but to them. And all he could hear was a distant female scream filled with so much pain and fear mixing and mingling with his own voice.

“Harry, wake up.” Hermione shook him at his shoulder.

Harry jumped awake breathing heavily from the dream he just had. He ruffled through his hair and wiped away his tears. Only then he dared to look up at Hermione who was already fully dressed. She was looking down at him worry in her gaze something he had seen so many times before and somehow; he was always the cause.

“Another nightmare? Harry, I thought it had gotten better! If you are not talking to Ron or me then please talk to someone else. But you have to talk about it to someone.” she said softly with an urgent undertone.

“Good morning to you too.” Harry huffed sleepily not ready for this lecture.

“I know, I know. And it really was better. It’s just… something’s not right but I don’t know what. You know. It’s just a feeling that I can’t shake.” he added annoyed, wiping his eyes and yawning.

Hermione looked displeased. Harry shook his head, his mop of hair bobbing along. Signalling her he wouldn’t continue this conversation.

“Anyways, you need to get ready, we’ll be leaving in 20 minutes. Lucky for you I woke Ronald up before you, he is already in the bathroom. Hop hop let’s go.” Hermione added and clapped with her hands a tad restless.

“Yes ma’am.” he replied grinning. This earned him a pillow slap right across the face and an annoyed curly head leaving Ron’s room of the burrow.

Harry slowly moved his blanket and crawled out of bed. His bare feet touched the cool wooden floor of Ron’s bedroom. He looked around, everything in this room was a familiar sight, Harry had seen it so many times he had lost count, but he never stopped appreciating it. This was the second place he had ever called home, where he was surrounded by the people he treasured most.

A soft object hit him in the face and snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked in his lap and one of Ron’s old socks was laying there. Harry moved quickly, he grabbed the sock and sprung from his bed sprinting towards Ron, who was standing in the opened door of the bathroom.

Ron tried to close to door before Harry could reach him, but he was unsuccessful due to his onehandedness since he was brushing his teeth. They were pulling and shoving against the door which was squeaking dramatically. Until Harry triumphantly pulled the door open causing the ginger boy to nearly loose his balance and spit toothpaste everywhere.

“Asshole!” was the only understandable curse of the gush of muttered ramble which was coming from Ron.

The old sock successfully disregarded on the floor between their schoolbooks, uniforms, and parchment. After Ron had somewhat regained his footing, Harry barged into Ron’s tiny bathroom as well.

They were fighting over who could get their hands first on the hairbrush and wrestling for space in front of the mirror. For a second Harry felt like he was 12 years old again, visiting the burrow for the first time and experiencing what it felt like to be welcome somewhere, what it was like having fun and be a child playing with other kids and bickering with his best friend without getting into trouble. To Ron all of this might seem pointless he didn’t treat Harry any different then how he would treat his siblings but to Harry it meant the world.

He zoomed back into reality when one of Rons pointy elbow hit him right below his ribs. So, he shoved back at him to get his toothbrush from the shelves.

Eventually, they both made it downstairs where Hermione was already waiting for them in front of the fireplace.

Mrs. Weasley appeared from around the corner and looked at the three of them worriedly. “Are you really sure you want to go? Especially you Harry, you should know better. It’s so dangerous out there.” She scolded them.

“Mum,” Ron retorted, “We talked about this at least a dozen times already. It will be fine; they won’t be attacking in brought daylight. And he has Hermione and me, and Fred and George aren’t far--,”

“I know, I know.” She shut him up with the wing of her hand.

“Just promise me that you’ll be careful.” She looked at each of the three intently and then sighed.

“I know even if I wanted to stop you, you would do it anyway.” A small smile appeared on her face, a rare sight in these times but it did not reach her eyes.

“We’ll be careful.” Harry tried to reassure her, before taking the Floo powder and stepping into the fireplace. The other two following him promptly.

Green flames enkindled them and then darkness a sudden rush of air and they were transported to the leaky cauldron, the entrance to the Diagon alley. Harry stepped out of the fireplace into the dimly lit pub trying to gain orientation again. The other two stumbled out of the fireplace shortly after him. Ron coughing and nearly falling over Hermione who shoved him back.

The leaky cauldron was usually filled with all kinds of wizards and witches chatting, drinking and relaxing but not these days. It was empty the chairs still standing on the tables, not having been used for a while. Tom the inn keeper looked up from behind the counter examining his new guests.

“Ah Mister Potter. Always an honor to have you here.” Tom greeted Harry, ignoring the other two.

“What can I do for you today?” he asked not sounding very hopeful.

“Oh, greetings Tom, but we are just passing through.” Harry replied awkwardly.

Tom just nodded as if he didn’t expect anything else and hunched back down continuing his work behind the counter.

The trio made its way through the room to the back door where they were led into the Diagon alley. And even there the desolation was evident, only a few people were hurrying through the streets not wasting time. What once was the liveliest place Harry had known, was now empty and lonely.

As they were walking down the main road, they passed many shops that had been closed or vandalized. It was sad sight, pamphlets, shards of glass and dirt were dancing through the streets to a song only it could hear. Here and there the patter of steps and snippets of whispers that were happening in the shadows could be heard. Everything was as quiet and as quickly as possible afraid of attracting too much attention.

The few booths that were still open were selling shielding amulets, dubious strengthening, and invisibility potions. Beseeching the few people to take a closer look at their goods. The trio made their way through the desolated alleys to reach the only shop that seemed lively and open.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Fred and George’s joke article shop.

“Well at least one shop is open.” Hermione remarked when she saw a big moving puppet resembling one of the twins with a magic hat letting a bunny disappear and reappear. The building was blue and the focal point between two dull, barricaded, and grey buildings. The windows brightly lit and hung with odds and ends.

“Fred said that he thinks the people just need something to laugh about in these times and that’s why the store is running so well.” Ron said watching the puppet attentively.

“Wanna go in?” Harry asked already halfway at the door in the heart of the puppet.

“Of course, that’s the main reason why we are here. I haven’t argued with Mum about nothing. Plus, I am their brother they have to give me stuff for free right?” he said eagerly and pushed the door open.

A sweet and lovely smell welcomed the three in the most colorful and chaotic shop Harry had ever seen. Shelves reaching the ceilings, small stands, and benches with everything you could ever imagine in every color of the rainbow.

Four stories of joke and prank articles as well as, love and Polyjuice potion or muggle magic tricks and a section for defense against the dark arts section. Harry thought if he would have stood still for an hour, he still wouldn’t have seen everything the twins had to offer. He was in awe, his eyes widened trying to take in everything at once.

“Wow!” all three of them exclaimed at the same time.

“Where do we start?” Ron asked excited his eyes shining with fascination.

“Oh, hello there esteemed guests of our small establishment.” Fred greeted them jokingly polite when he spotted them, George appearing right behind him. They were wearing magenta robes which clashed awfully with their red hair but wasn’t even enough to make them stand out from their store and the chaos within.

“Ah ha, look who has arrived, so Mum did let you leave the Burrow.” George said. “Happy to have you here. For our lady here the section to the left could interest you. And you Harry, the defense against the dark arts stuff is on our third floor, if you find something you like just keep it.” Fred continued and winked at Harry.

“Ey and what about me?” Ron protested.

“What should be about you?” the twins asked simultaneously.

“Don’t I get things for free as well?” when the twins didn’t respond Ron added annoyed, “I am your brother?!”

The twins looked at each other as to confirm that they thought the same thing. “Then double the price.”
They grinned mischievous and turned around to disappear again into the crowd that filled their shop.

Ron huffed in disbelief. “And that’s what you call family or what.”

The trio split up Hermione investigating the left side of the store that had been suggested to her, Ron seemingly displeased steered towards the nosebleed nougat stand and Harry wandered upstairs towards the defense against the dark arts section the twins had mentioned.

Above his head fireworks exploded and a doll of Ms. Umbridge was demanding discipline and structure. On the opposite wall a guy was walking vertically up on the shelves and a girl’s hair had turned green and was shooting lighting at everyone who dared to go near.

Harry chuckled; this was exactly what he imagined when he had given the twins his price money after he had won the Triwizard tournament. He loved the chaos; the liveliness it made everything else a bit more harmless. Here he felt like he wasn’t the chosen one, here he felt like Harry, like just Harry. It was the twin’s specialty to make Harry feel like he was normal, ordinary. With all their bickering, joking and enthusiasm for everything, Harry felt like for the first time he wasn’t the odd one out.

Slowly he approached the section, that everybody else steered clear of. It was dark and desolated, the shelves lined with plum colored velvet and dimly lit showcased a variety of items of mysterious as well as ones harmful of nature.

Something caught Harry’s attention, it was shimmering in every color of the rainbow and then stopped as if it never existed. And then again, the rainbow shimmer appeared, he looked around and noted a window on the roof where light was coming inside the store. When the light was standing just right it made the else seemingly black powder shimmer. He was intrigued and extended his hand to touch the strange looking crystal.

“The Instant darkness powder, great if you have to disappear quickly.” George remarked from behind him. Harry startled by the sudden appearance of the twins withdrew his hand abruptly from the shelves he had been investigating.

“If crushed the powder darkens the room instantly, hence the name.” Fred added unnecessarily.

“Thanks man. Harry couldn’t have made that connection without your added explanation.” the other twin rolled his eyes.

“So, no light can be seen? Not even Lumos?” Harry inquired further.

“Correct. No known light creation spell can help you navigate the darkness. Thus, you must know by heart where you are headed.” Fred answered more helpfully this time.

“Take one. Never know when it comes in handy.” George grabbed one from the shelve and handed it to Harry. It felt cold to the touch almost like stone. Harry carefully placed it in his pocket.

After a short while of exploring the shop, the trio met again downstairs. They said their goodbyes to the twins and made their way outside. The contrast couldn’t be more striking, it felt like the world had lost all color. The happy and relaxed atmosphere inside disappeared into thin air and the seriousness of the real world set back in.

“Wow! They really do have everything.” Ron exclaimed fascinated.

“I know. Did you guys see that they were selling Lunas Nargles protection glasses and Wrackspurt amulets.” Hermione said while they slowly walked away from the shop.

Harry wanted to add something when suddenly the deafening sound of an explosion travelled towards them, birds fleeing the scene up into the sky. Panic broke out, a handful of people were coming towards them screaming and running away from whatever just happened.

Before Harry could even think his action through or the other two could react, he was running down the narrow road towards the unknown.

“Harry- Harry, stop!” he heard Hermione’s scared voice scream from behind him, but he didn’t stop, didn’t turn around to see if they were following.

He slowed down when he heard shards of glass breaking underneath his feet, it smelled like smoke and in the remnants, parchment was still burning. He raised is wand as a precaution against what could come.

His next steps were placed carefully while he let his gaze wander and examine the rubble. Wood chunks and glass, as well as old cartons and what once had been a chair were scattered across the alley. The cartons had peaked Harry’s interest, he crouched down and touched the inlet of one. It felt velvety and soft leaving a small gap along the middle for something… It dawned on him who this store had belonged too, so he picked up his pace again and rounded the corner.

The chaos welcoming him there was shocking, almost all of Olivanders inventory was out on the street burning, windows destroyed, shelves and furniture tumbled over and cast aside. Smoke was obstructing his view to get the full picture of the destruction that had happened.

He heard steps behind him and froze for a split second. The voices arguing one of them clearly female sounding rather annoyed, Harry was now certain that his friends had followed him.

Before he could take another step further to get inside the shop a person dressed in black robes and a gold mask appeared through the smoke and looked around hastily. Harry gritted his teeth his mind picking up speed, as he recognized the intruders as Death Eaters. What did Death Eaters want from Olivanders, why did they attack in daylight?

He raised his wand higher; he was still unnoticed, so he took another step. His feet landed on something uneven and slipped causing him to stumble and lose his balance. He hissed trying to regain his footing. There it went his advantage.

The head of the masked Death Eater turned in an instant staring down the unwelcome intruder. He hissed and three other figures appeared behind him. One large man too large to be purely human, who Harry recognized as Fenrir Greyback his sharp yellowy eyes darting in his direction. He was gripping onto a person whose head was covered with a black linen bag and hands fixed with rope. Fenrir was dragging that person out of the shop who had no choice but stumble blindly behind. They made space for Harry to see the fourth person with dark wild curly hair and a sneer of a grin, which was haunting Harry in his dreams.

Anger was bubbling in his stomach by the sight of Bellatrix roaming freely, alive still without consequences for her actions, while Sirius- while he wasn’t here anymore. Rage was fogging Harrys senses, he wanted to punish her, he wanted to hurt her and make her pay. Wanted to make her feel his pain. He stepped forward walking straight towards her too consumed by his rage to realize the danger he was walking straight towards.

He didn’t care if it was a trap or something worse. If they were there to kill him so be it, but the thing he couldn’t do… no couldn’t live with was die without avenging Sirius. He had to try. The injustice of her being alive while Sirius wasn’t, it made his body burn and his eyes sting.

Bellatrix let out a cackle as she saw Harry mindlessly walking towards her. She raised her wand in anticipation, seemingly excited about what was to come. Fenrir next to her flashed his gruesome fangs in what could be interpreted as a smile, content with how the situation was progressing, still gripping onto the neck of their hostage.

But the person with the golden mask hissed and muttered something that Harry couldn’t understand. The masked person seemed to oversee the operation because Bellatrix rolled her eyes nodded to Fenrir and locked eyes with Harry again. She gave him a cocky smile before she disapparated with a loud echoing pop shortly followed by the werewolf and their unwilling hostage. Dissolving and leaving black swaths of smoke behind which enclosed the third Death Eater still standing on the doorstep.

The smoke vanished enough for Harry to make out ice blue eyes which were watching him intently. They were the only thing the mask was revealing, and they seemed so familiar. Harry took a step closer to the person, which wore long black robes and gloves covering every inch of their body, a hood hiding the hair and most of the mask. But those eyes were burning themselves into Harry’s mind and the longer he stared back at them the more familiar they looked. But they didn’t express hostility, those eyes despite being icy weren’t cold no they were scared, unsure and on guard.

Neither of them was willing to break the eye contact and the anger in his stomach was slowly fading away and his mind was starting to process again. He couldn’t be angry at those eyes it would’ve just been pretend. Only focused on the eyes he let his wand down forgetting that the person he was looking at was still a Death Eater.

The Death Eater moved their head visibly forcing themselves to break eye contact and in the next second another loud pop sounded through the alley and Harry stared at an empty doorstep.

He swallowed and shook his head; he knew that person he was sure of it but why hadn’t they attacked him. It would have been the perfect chance to do so. Their goal must’ve been something and he himself appearing unwanted or not expected. He let his wand down so why didn’t they--

“Harry!” Ron’s voice shouted breathlessly from behind interrupting his train of thoughts.

Then a pair of arms looped around his neck and a head of curls was obstructing his vision, “Thank god nothing happened to you.” Hermione said against his shoulder while hugging him tightly.

Two additional but very familiar redheads appeared behind Ron.

“What happened here? And why is it always you Harry who is present?” George asked taking in the scene of destruction. All of them cautiously walking over the rubble with their wands raised, not yet convinced that the situation was safe again.

“Seems like something exploded… wait wasn’t that Olivanders shop?” Fred added taking a step closer to examine the demolished store front.

“It was indeed his shop. The Death Eaters were behind this. I believe they used some sort of fog to hide what they were doing. At first, I didn’t see them, then they stepped out Bellatrix, Fenrir, and a hostage. But… there was a fourth person with them who was wearing a golden mask. So, I couldn’t see their face, but this person seemed like they were in charge--,” Harry rambled explaining his experience of the past moments.

The picture of the person with those ice blue eyes etched into his consciousness not leaving him.

“Harry, what kind of fog did you see exactly?” George asked interested.

“At first, I thought it was just smoke from a fire inside that hindered my sight but then they stepped out and it disappeared immediately. Why do you ask?” He answered and turned around to look at George who was furrowing his brows looking more serious than Harry had ever seen him before.

“Do you think they used a variation of the instant darkness powder we sell at our store?” Fred asked his twin, easily following the others thought process.
“They seemed to have demolished nearly everything, were they searching for something? Or did they only care about the hostage?” He questioned no one in particular while examining the store.

“Hostage you say. Could it be… Olivander?” Hermione covered her mouth in shock, saying out loud what Harry suspected as well.

Suddenly several pops echoed through the alley and within seconds they were surrounded by seven aurors from the ministry ready to attack at any given moment.

Ron let out a surprised yelp and hurriedly ducked down with the others their hands above their heads. No one dared to move or even breathe scared that it would set off a salve of curses from the aurors that encircled them.

“Harry Potter is that you?” a deep voice inquired.

Harry slowly lifted his head to search for the person who asked. His eyes landed on a tall dark-skinned man in blue silk robes with kind hazel eyes… “Kingsley?” Harry asked confused but hopeful.

“By Merlins beard I am glad to see you, Harry.” The deep voice responded, and a smile tugged on Harrys lips while he stood up from the ground.

Kingsley Shackelbolt was also a member of the Order and had accompanied Harry a couple times before. With hurried steps he was next to Harry and shook his hand and greeted the others.

“We really thought you were going to arrest us. How dare you appear just like that.” George said trying to ease the tension.

The remaining six aurors still aiming at them with their wands didn’t seem to find it funny. The comment earned a small courteous smile from Shacklebolt who proceeded to turn around to command his team. Three were supposed to investigate the inside and the other three the outside of the shop. He then turned around looking at the group intently, “Did you see who did this or what happened here?” he asked.

“Death Eaters. I saw them. They had a hostage.” Harry answered quickly.

“How many?” Kingsley asked as if Harry’s answer already confirmed his suspicions.

“Three. There were three, Sir. Bellatrix and Fenrir the third was wearing a mask.”, Kingsley nodded along to his explanation. “We only heard the explosion and tried to stop Harry from getting closer, but he took off.” Ron added meekly.

“Then Ron and I had a disagreement over what to do. Until Fred and George caught up with us who had heard the explosion from their shop.” Hermione explained further.

“Hmm. That was very dangerous of you Harry. I thought you knew better than that. Especially after everything that happened. You even being here was reckless.” Kingsley told Harry dismissively.

“You three will have to accompany me to the ministry to record your story. I will inform Arthur about this instance, I believe he will escort you home or somewhere safe.”, he pointed at the trio “And regarding you two we will have to postpone your testimony. I am going to visit you later, please await my owl.”

“Yes, Sir.” The twins answered and backed away to return to their store they had left in a hurry after hearing the explosion.

With four pops that echoed through the alley they vanished.

The fourth pop rang out a short while after the others. Draco appeared in the reception room of the Manor where his parents were awaiting him impatiently. His father who was walking up and down stopped in his tracks and his mother rose from an armchair besides the door.

“Draco… Darling there you are.” The soft voice of his mother disturbed the silence in the room. She made her way over to him, where he was taking of his mask and hood.

“Where is he? Is he in the dungeons?” Draco asked impatiently looking from his mother to his father and back. Adrenalin still running through his veins, he was scared to relax before he didn’t have the confirmation that his task had been completed.

Lucius didn’t offer an answer, so his mother nodded and hastily answered, “Yes, Bella and Fenrir escorted him down there. Your first task should be fulfilled now."

“But Draco why didn’t you leave with them? Bella said something about Potter appearing on the scene.” She continued quieter her voice filled with something like worry.

“Yes, Potter was there as well as his friends I presume.” Stressed Draco ran his hand through his hair and let out a small sigh.

“He surprised us when we left the shop. Potter came closer he appeared to be willing to fight and angry, probably caused by Bellatrix. I don’t think he recognized me. But I had to stay behind to make sure he wasn’t following.” Draco summed up shortly, bending the last two statements so his father wouldn’t punish him for his incompetence.

They didn’t need to know the details that Draco was sure that Potter had recognized something. That he was anxious about the fact that if Potter managed to figure out that it had been him underneath the mask, what he would do next. They didn’t need to know that he had been frozen in place by the others presence. How Potter had stared at him and Draco had felt like the time slowed. They didn’t need to know how much effort it had taken Draco to break eye contact. Or how he had just apparated without checking if Potter was following, when he heard the steps of his friends approaching.

“Enough. We should welcome our new guest. Don’t you think so?” Lucius declared impatiently while turning his back to them and leaving the reception room.

They were walking through the manor silently, even the portraits for once kept quiet. The atmosphere was tensed, his father a few steps ahead and he and his mother following suit. Draco had left his robes and mask behind now wearing his usual black suit.

The air grew cold the closer they steered towards the dungeon. The steps down and the dungeon itself were only scarcely lit by torches, there were no windows, and the stairs were the only entrance and exit.

Their hostage Garrick Olivander sat crouched over in the furthest left corner fixed with chains around his ankles. Draco imagined he could see shivers shaking his whole body. Bellatrix and Fenrir were standing across from him turned around to greet them.

“I haven’t had so much fun in a while. Draco- you surprised me you might not be as useless as I thought you’d be. I wager you realise now what an honour these tasks are for you.” a grin spread across her face, “What a shame that we had to leave before the real entertainment could start. I would have loved to show our friend Potter his way to visit Sirius.”

“That wasn’t our task, and you knew that Bellatrix.” Draco retorted hot headed, hiding his anxiety about what would’ve happened if they had deviated from the plan. If he couldn’t have stopped Bellatrix, if they actually had to fight or worse kill someone.

“Calm down sweetheart. I wouldn’t have left otherwise, and I believe you know that.” she added her voice unsettling, sweet, before she turned around to face their unwilling guest.

“And what shall we do with him? A bit of blood would complement his white hair don’t you think?”

“Draco must touch the Dark Mark to inform the Dark Lord about the completion of the task. He will then issue new orders. Until then we won’t do anything. Or do you want to upset the Dark Lord Bella.” Narcissa uttered dismissively, “Go on Draco. Touch your Mark.”

Draco’s heart sank while he slowly rolled up his left sleeve. He was glad that the dungeons were only dimly lit otherwise everyone would’ve seen the scars around his Mark. Would’ve seen his weakness. Would’ve seen that he was not better than Regulus.

He looked down onto his forearm and gulped at the sight. Nausea was rising and his mind was spinning, as the Mark started to move. He would have loved nothing more than to rip of his skin here and there. But he couldn’t. So instead he slowly pressed down on the Mark with his index finger.

Once again pain shot through his arm. He winced. The snake stopped moving only the skull opened his mouth further and further until it looked like it was screaming. Then the light flickered, and a breeze rushed through the room out of nowhere. Heads were turning searching for a sign in the room.

At that moment the Dark Lords voice sounded through the dungeons. Just a voice without a body.

“Draco, your first task is now completed. Leave Mr. Olivander be but keep him alive, I will attend to the rest myself.”

“Yes, my Lord.” those present said in unison echoing through the dungeons.

“For your next task Draco, you must return to Hogwarts. You will receive further instructions once you’re there.” the ominous deep voice ordered and as suddenly as it started speaking it stopped again.

The pain in his arm lessened and Draco removed his finger from his Dark Mark. He hurriedly rolled down the sleeve of his suit to get the Mark out of his sight as quickly as possible and only then he dared to take a deep breath.

His father was the first to break the silence, “That means whatever your next task is, the Dark Lord wants you to do it on your own since we can’t enter Hogwarts.”

“A real task to prove yourself how exciting.” Bellatrix said happily.

But Draco didn’t feel excited, he just felt utterly alone.

Chapter Text

It was the night before leaving for Hogwarts and the Burrow was pure chaos. Harry sat on his bed in Ron’s bedroom, patiently observing the chaos around him. Most of Ron’s wardrobe was on the floor instead of his trunk, his books and parchment crammed on his bed and his quidditch equipment laid scattered around in the entrance of the room, where he had left it after the match the day before. Since Fred and George had been away for the summer, only he, Ron and Ginny practiced together. Hermione usually sat on the porch and pretended to watch while they all knew she was reading her books.

During the two weeks Harry had been allowed to spend at the Burrow this summer, he had to listen to Ron whining that he needed to train harder to qualify for the school team and that he wouldn’t make it. In short, Ron had been panicking and complaining ever since Harry had set foot in the Burrow.

What made the situation even more complicated was that he had been appointed as the team captain, since most of the team had graduated last year or left Hogwarts like the twins had. And Harry had decided that Ginny was invaluable to the team, so they were the only returning players on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Which meant that at the beginning of this school year, they had to hold tryouts to fill the vacant spots and find substitutes. This would also lead to a larger number of participants, which only plunged Ron further into a downward spiral. So, they practiced whenever, much to Hermione’s displeasure.

“Harry,” Ginny burst into the room, scaring the life out of both him and Ron, who dropped his carefully folded shirts.

“Great. Just great. Was that really necessary Ginny?” Ron muttered annoyed crouching down trying to gather his shirts from the floor.

“Harry! Did you see my shin and arm guards I can’t find them anywhere?” Ginny asked urgently, ignoring Ron’s dilemma.

“No, I--,” was all Harry managed to get out before another voice interrupted him. “Ginny, Ginny you haven’t packed your caldron yet and your books are still downstairs.” Shouted a stressed Molly Weasley through the Burrow.

Annoyed, Ginny turned on her heel and left the room, shouting back angrily, “I know, Mum, it’s because I haven’t finished packing yet!”

Ron, who had now successfully stowed his folded shirts in his suitcase, looked at Harry and said “By Merlin’s beard, you can’t even pack in peace in this household. Why is it so difficult to prepare everything for Hogwarts every year?”

“I don’t know. But I find it quite entertaining.” Harry laughed causing Ron to grimace displeased.

“Yeah, you can think it’s funny, since you’re already done. How did you manage that? Teach me your magic please.” Ron said hopelessly, looking at all the things he still had to pack. While Harrys suitcase stood already packed next to his bed.

“No magic. I just don’t own more than what fits into this suitcase, which remind you, I had to pack before coming here. And if we’re honest nothing ever really leaves this suitcase anyways. So--” Harry shrugged. The other nodded defeated and sighed as he continued packing.

Harry refocused on the Quidditch training plan that lay on the bed in front of him. He had to structure the tryouts, the practices and the friendlies. So that the team could function as a unit by the time the first matches would happen. It couldn't just consist of people who were only there because they wanted to secure his favor or be close to him. A problem he didn’t have a solution to yet. But for now, Harry tried not to think too much about problems.

He stared down at his parchment with notes and strategy trying to come up with a reasonable timeline for the trainings. When once again blue eyes appeared in front of his inner eye. Ever since the incident from a few days ago he couldn’t seem to think about anything else.

Every time he had mentioned this topic with Ron and Hermione he was met with the same Harry, we talked about this already and without more details we can’t narrow it down or something along those lines. So, he had stopped knowing that they wouldn’t get far anyways. But he couldn’t stop thinking about them, they would appear as soon as he closed his eyes. Because he knew deep down that he was familiar with that person.

Time passed and Harry wasn’t getting anywhere with his planning, Ron was still packing so he decided to venture downstairs. He shortly stopped by at Hermione’s and Ginny’s room just to see as much chaos as upstairs. He walked down the old wooden stairs that screamed at every step he took. The walls were plastered with old drawings, medals, dubious artworks and reminders of achievements of all sorts.

He remembered the first time he had walked on those when the house had been filled with redheads, and you would always hear someone running up and down the stairs. Harry noted that the Burrow had grown more and more silent over the years, the joy that had once filled every room now scarcely visited.

When he stepped into the living room, he saw Hedwig sitting on the windowsill a beauty next to the rather ruff looking owl Piggy. The sun had set, and the evening mist was hanging low over the fields and gardens behind the Burrow. He slowly raised his hand as to not scare Hedwig to pet her silky head.

“Ah Harry.” a voice startled him, and he let his arm fall again. When he turned around, he saw Arthur Weasley sitting in the armchair next to the fireplace working on a miniature module of an airplane. He hadn’t notice him when he had entered the living room.

“Excuse me it wasn’t my intent to scare you. Are you done packing and now trying to escape the mess?” He excused himself.

“You could say that. I tried to work on the training plan for Quidditch while Ron was sorting through his stuff, but I was rather unsuccessful. That’s why I decided to look for something else to do.”

“Hmm,” Mr. Weasley agreed absentmindedly. In the dim light of the fire Harry noticed that his red hair was thinning, he had more wrinkles on his forehead, and he looked tired. He looked older in general but who didn’t was the other question.

“Harry,”

“Yes, Sir?” Harry looked at him his expression blank.

“I must ask you to be careful once you return to Hogwarts.” He looked at Harry intently, waiting for a sign that Harry understood the seriousness of the matter.

“Nothing is safe. Especially not for you. Not even Hogwarts regardless of how old the protection magic is that flows there or how highly praised Dumbledore is. The fact that you got away unharmed from the incident a few days ago is a wonder. But we can’t risk it, you can’t risk it doing something so foolish. You are too important! How sad it might sound but you are the first real hope we’ve had in years. And since Kingsley still hasn’t figured out where the Death Eaters took Olivander or who our third unknown culprit is… Just do what Dumbledore tells you to do. It will be the best for all of us.” He concluded while shifting uncomfortably in his armchair.

The atmosphere in the room was tensed. Harry looked away at the family clock behind him, at the pictures, the light anywhere but Mr. Weasleys face because if he did, he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to hide his anger flaring up.

He didn’t need to be told that he should be careful. He didn’t need to hear that he got lucky or that it was stupid what he did. He knew all of that! The whole world was watching him, and the pressure was numbing, soul crushing, agonizing even. He was well aware of the role he was supposed to take, of the hope everybody had in him. That he shouldn’t act foolish, and that the situation was dangerous. At what point had any situation not been dangerous?

Everybody acted like he wouldn’t know of his importance. Even if that was the one and nearly only thing, he was hearing left and right wherever he went since he first stepped foot in Hogwarts. He had never asked to become famous, the chosen one or the boy who lived. Hell, at some point in time he had liked the benefits. Of course he had.

At first, he had been ecstatic since he had never known attention, never known what it felt like to be liked by people or to be seen. That’s what he had been wishing for ever since he had been little because he had never experienced it before. He had only ever seen how other people treated their children, or how Dudley was treated. Or how other children played together but not with him. So, he had slowly figured that there was just something fundamentally wrong with him until people actually wanted to befriend him.

But with time came change and he slowly started to taste the bitter sides of the fame. The expectations, the pressure to perform, to save everybody over and over again. It also meant to lose things like his freedom, friends and his own voice…

Harry knew this; he was aware of it but what everyone seemed to conveniently forget or oversee was that he had been a child robbed if his childhood. And now also of his teenage years. Didn’t they say that these would be the best years of his life filled with parties, drama, friendship, music and the option the be foolish to explore yourself and the world. But for Harry the world didn’t want him to explore himself, he was just their savior, their weapon. Who had to comply and do what others deemed best. Who was pushed from one danger into another, without any of it ever being a decision out of free will but out of necessity.

And really all he was hoping for was for his parents and Sirius to be still alive. But somehow nobody ever cared about what he was hoping or wishing for. Nobody cared about him as long as he was able to perform. Nobody truly cared.

Harry gulped down his anger which was rising in the back of his throat like bile. He knew the silence was stretching uncomfortably long so he nodded. “I will.” Trying his best to sound reassuring even though Harry knew he couldn’t and didn’t want to promise anything.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs offered them an opportunity to stop looking at each other not knowing how to continue the conversation. Seconds later Molly Weasley was standing in the living room visibly relieved to find Harry.

“Harry. By Merlin’s Beard here you are. Good.” She clutched her necklace around her neck, the way she always did when she was stressed.

“Did you pack everything? If so, you might better go to sleep, Ron is also nearly done. You have an exhausting day ahead of you, Love.”

He nodded, this time meaning it. “I will.” He smiled, walking towards Mrs. Weasley who just patted his shoulder. “Goodnight.” he muttered on the way out of the room.

Mr. Weasleys “Night.” followed him as well as a soft flap of wings.

The platform bell rang, shaking Harry out of his thoughts. He was standing on the platform waiting for the others to load their luggage onto the train. They had been late as usual. It was the same every year since Harry was allowed to spend the last weeks of his summer at the Burrow. Someone always forgot something or they overpacked or… There were many reasons as to why they were always stressed out, finding their way through the crowded King’s Cross station with their luggage carts and screeching owls. As every year Harry thought that this time surely every Muggle would notice and call the police on them. But again, and again Harry had to note that Muggles only saw what they wanted to. So, no one stopped them to call the police or question why they kept owls as pets or why their luggage was so obscenely large.

Harry saw the white of Hedwig’s feathers slowly disappear further into the luggage car while Rons trunk was heaved into the train. And Harry was glad that it was time to go home.

The Hogwarts Express horn echoed through the station, signaling that there were only three minutes left until departure. As if that had been a cue Ron, Hermione and Ginny returned to where he and Molly had been waiting on the platform.

“Of you go. There is not much time left you better board now.” Mrs. Weasley said ushering them over to the train doors. “You are going to behave and don’t do something dangerous. And write us from time to time, alright?”

She pulled Ginny into a tight hug, who reassured her that they will be good and that she will write her letters. Molly then proceeded to hug Ron and Hermione and at last Harry. Her eyes were filled with worry, and she opened her mouth as if to say something but whatever it was, she didn’t say it.

The horn rang again, one minute left.

She released him from the hug and Harry turned around only to find that the others had already boarded the train. Steam was filling the station as he was grabbing the door handle, and he tightened his grip on his backpack. When Harry made the first step blond hair shining in the soft autumn light caught his eyes. Distracted he turned his head to the right and saw Draco Malfoy saying his goodbyes to his parents.

His mother whispered something in his ear while she hugged him. She looked up and their eyes met while she slowly backed away from Draco. Her eyes were empty, cold and blue. Narcissa broke the eye contact and focused on Draco again forcing herself to smile at him encouragingly. Lucius was standing farther away in his black robes. Harry expected him to say his goodbyes too, but Draco ignored him and turned around. He took a step towards the train his father’s cane and leather briefcase in one hand he reached for the door handle. He was wearing a black suit, but it didn’t seem to fit right, it was too loose on him and Draco looked like he was drowning in it.

Harry was staring, the time was ticking. The blond noticed or his mother had told him either way he turned his head towards where Harry had frozen boarding the train. His blond hair was flawlessly combed back which made him look older and fiercer than Harry remembered him. Draco’s cheekbones were more prominent, he seemed thinner overall. His gaze travelled up and their eyes met, and Harry’s mind went blank. Blue eyes stared back.

Not any blue eyes but ice blue eyes. The ones from the Diagon alley. Harry might’ve only seen them surrounded by the golden Mask, but these weren’t just any blue eyes. No, they were the same. He was sure of it now that he had seen Malfoy’s eyes again and had realized that the other indeed had blue eyes. Ice blue eyes. Harry’s thoughts spiraled as Draco’s gaze once again burned itself into his mind.
Malfoy was the Death Eater underneath the mask. Draco was a Death Eater.
He was now sure of that. How could he have forgotten that Malfoy had blue eyes? Maybe Harry had never really looked Draco in the eyes or maybe he had never bothered to remember them. But now that those eyes were once again staring at him, he felt like ice was slowly piercing his lungs causing him to lose air. Blue eyes, blue eyes, blue… Draco.

“Harry, Harry!” Hermione shook his shoulder to get his attention, his head snapped towards her, and she gestured for him to step into the train. Harry nodded slowly his thoughts only gradually catching up with the situation. Before taking his final step onto the train, he turned once more to the spot where Draco had been standing, only to see the door closing behind him.

As soon as Harry had closed the door the horn rang out one last time announcing the trains departure. He could feel the vibrations as the train steadily rolled out of the station. The four of them turned to the windows in the hallway and waved Mrs. Weasley goodbye who was already waving back. Once the train had caught up to speed and the station was out of sight the four split up. Ginny wanting to search for her friends and so the trio was left to find an empty compartment for them to sit. Harry took the lead the others following suit or so he assumed. He didn’t bother to check.

They walked for a short while waving to familiar faces. It felt good to be back on the express, no it felt right. He was travelling again to the one place he could call home. Harry opened the sliding door to an empty compartment as he turned his head to look at the others who just nodded at the unspoken question. They made themselves at home three blue seats on each side were facing each other. The luggage rack above their heads now home to their backpacks when Harry turned around Ron and Hermione had seated themselves on one side. Leaving the other side for Harry.

Harry raised his eyebrow in confusion. “What’s going on? Is this going to be an interrogation or what?” He took the seat next to the window.

“Harry, what the hell was that man? You were completely gone; you didn’t hear us at all. One second you were moving and getting on the train and the other you were completely frozen.” Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“We said your name over again. Only when I shook your shoulder you reacted. What did you see? Another vision?” Hermione asked worried.

“It’s nothing really.” Harry rubbed his forehead. “I just thought… I think I know now whose blue eyes I saw underneath the mask.” he admitted.

They exchanged confused glances. The outskirts of London flew by, and the scenery turned greener and more desolated. Hermione pointed at the door for their compartment signalizing Ron he better close the door properly. He stretched and with a long arm he was able to close the door fully without having to stand up.

“And who is it?” Ron asked impatiently while he turned around again to look at Harry.

“It is Malfoy.” The compartment fell silent. Harry could hear his own heartbeat realizing how stupid that must’ve sounded.

“What Malfoy as in Draco Malfoy or do you mean his father?” Ron questioned dumbfounded.

“You mean Draco, right?” Hermione squinted unpleased with his deduction “That’s a harsh accusation, Harry. Do you have any evidence for your claim? Or are you just accusing him because you two can’t stand each other?” she wanted to know unconvinced by Harry’s suggestion.

Harry didn’t answer immediately. He was sure of what he had seen. But again, he had been the only one back then and now to see Malfoy. To see his blue eyes. And since no one else saw them, it was his word against theirs. The clatter of the train moving on the tracks was filling the pause.

“I-,” Harry started before the silence could stretch to long to become uncomfortable. He was fixed by his two friends who were rather impatiently waiting for an explanation.

“I know it’s him because of his eyes. They were the same kind of blue, cold and sharp.” Harry explained growing irritated by his friend’s reaction. He felt unfairly treated; selfish he knew but it made anger stir in his stomach. “He was getting on the train at the same time as me and our eyes met. That’s when I knew.”

“But Harry we covered this already you can’t recognize someone effectively by only seeing their eyes. There are many people who have the same color in…”

“I know Hermione.” Harry interrupted her impatiently. “But I just know it was him. Meaning Malfoy is now a Death Eater!” He declared flatly.

“Harry, really? I mean we all know Malfoy. Him a Death Eater? Sure, his parents are proud Death Eaters and followers of You-Know-Who, but do you really think that he would accept Draco into his ranks?” Ron tried to make sense of Harry hypothesis.

“That’s what I think. That’s why he was there with Bellatrix and Fenrir because he can’t carry out Voldemort’s orders on his own yet. I mean he his father’s son after all. So why not? Voldemort surely needs new loyal followers.” He shrugged. “And I know what I saw.” Harry argued further.

He was upset how less his friends were willing to understand his point. Harry looked out of the window where trees and fields were passing by underneath the grey sky, to avoid having to look at the other two. In the hopes to ease the anger reaching for his tongue. He didn’t want to leash out at them. They did nothing wrong. He was just- just so angry all the time.

“You shouldn't blame someone for something just because they are their parents' child. Nobody chose their parentage, and you can’t change where you are from. People are not defined by that. Especially you should know that, Harry. You should be careful with this suspicion--”

“I need to get some fresh air.” Harry interrupted Hermione angrily.

He knew she was right and what he said was wrong. He also knew he had probably hurt her too by spouting such nonsense. But right now, he didn’t have the courage to admit that he was wrong. This compartment suddenly felt too small too tight for all of his emotions, he needed to get out of there or else he- or else he didn’t know what else. Nonetheless, he quickly rose to his feet and grabbed his invisible cloak and with swift steps he was out of that door. Letting it fall shut and silencing Rons call after him.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw how Hermione pulled Ron back down to his seat. Probably telling him to let him go and give him some space.

He turned right and started walking past compartments most filled with groups of students and friends sharing their experiences from the summer and catching up on life. Lighthearted conversations and laughter travelled up to him. They paused for a moment when he walked past, and heads turned in his direction. Some started giggling, others just stared in silence and again others who felt extra cool waved at him. The new first years a lively mess of nerves froze all of them watching him with big eyes as if they were waiting for a wonder to happen in front of their eyes. To say he was used to this commotion was an understatement, Harry never really knew how to react to those expecting glances. And right now, he didn’t even feel like being perceived at all. So, he just smiled politely and hurried away.

He continued walking when he felt a tap on his right shoulder, he turned to see who wanted who talk to him but there was no one. He thought he had imagined it and turned around when suddenly a person with long blond wavy hair appeared in front of him.

“By Merlin’s Beard, Luna.” He said out of breath. She really had surprised him. “Want me to die of a heart attack?” He joked.

“Hi Harry.” Luna smiled brightly her pale silvery eyes beaming at him. “Don’t worry you won’t die yet.” She said as if that reassured him anyhow.

“How are you? How was your summer?” He asked in an attempt to make friendly conversation. Only two seconds in her company and he could already feel how his anger slowly dissipated. There was just something about her that calmed him.

“It was great. We went down to the coast to find new magical creatures. We saw a few Hippocampi and Mooncalves. Ginny already told me about your adventures this summer. Which wouldn’t have been necessary because I already had a vision about it.”

“Right. You saw it already.” His brain rather slow at work he realized something. “Luna when you say you saw it. Could you see who was behind the mask? Who the mysterious person was?”

“I told you before. I can’t influence my visions nor what exactly is revealed to me. It doesn’t benefit anyone to know their future. But we talked about this before don’t you remember?” She tilted her head and looked at him with big eyes.

And indeed, they had talked about it before. Splinters of their conversations seeped into his mind.

“How do you deal with it?” Harry broke the silence.

They had been sitting on a big rock by the lake in comfortable silence. Both glad to escape the horrors Professor Umbridge was unleashing on the school. Harrys favorite place on earth had suddenly changed so drastically that he didn’t really know how to cope. But Luna somehow- somehow, she understood him without having to explain anything. That’s why she had suggested to get some fresh air after an especially bothersome assembly in the great hall. Where further restrictions and rules had been announced. Harry had made the unsettling joke after Lunas suggestion that they should as long as they were still allowed to.

It was a late November afternoon, and it hadn’t been especially warm to begin with but now that the sun had set and the cold started to get unsettling. A small shiver ran down his back and he pulled his old worn-out jacket closer. His glance fell on his left hand were thin scars read I must not tell lies in his own handwriting. This had to be by far her cruelest joke. He lifted his head pushing these memories deep down and with them the sheer horror he had seen in Hermione’s eyes once she had noticed the wound.

“Deal with what?” Luna interrupted his thoughts. She looked up from the quibbler she had been reading her blond hair falling playfully over her shoulder.

“With seeing so much pain. Knowing when the people closest to you are going to die and knowing that you can’t do nothing against that. With your visions… How--” he was looking for the right words to express himself.

“I don’t.” she simply said and looked back down as if that was answer enough her necklaces were jingling with her movements.

“But… don’t you feel angry at all? Or aren’t you scared about the future? How do your visions work for you?” he asked perplexed and hoped she understood that he was genuinely curious.

“You really are interested?” she sounded rather surprised by that and looked towards him. Their eyes met, he was greeted with pale silvery eyes, and he understood in that instant that her eyes had seen a lot. Maybe not everything but enough horrifying things to leave scars.

“Of course I am,” Harry looked at her confused. “You are my friend, Luna. Of course, I am interested in the way your abilities affect your life. Or how they work and what they make you feel.”

Luna just stared at him for a few seconds, and he felt like she could see deep down into his soul. He just hoped that there she would see that he really was genuinely interested, he truly was. There was no reason for him to make fun of her for this. He just wanted to understand how she dealt with the pain and the loss. Harry wanted to talk to someone who shared these scars. His other friends were great, but they didn’t understand life the way he did. Neville maybe… but there had never been a good opportunity to talk.

She nodded and closed the quibbler, pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them and stared onto the still lake before she started talking. “I have had these visions since I can remember. My mother had them too until she died. She was able to help make use of them. She showed me how to not be scared or angry at what the future will bring because in the end it will happen one way or another. That way I saw how my mother died four years before she actually did.”

They were silent for a while. Harry also staring out on the lake, letting her take the time she needed.

“My visions give me time to process things beforehand. To cherish moments to be present in the here and now because I know how fragile life is. Because I know how it ends.”

Luna was fumbling with her necklaces and took a deep breath before continuing.

“I couldn’t tell her about my vision, you know. My mother knew I had seen it, I mean I was five years old and very eager to talk and so very scared. It was hard, very hard. Even harder when it happened. Knowing I could have told her, she could have changed something. That things could have gone different.”

Harry nodded slowly trying to comprehend what she just told him. He suddenly could see the weight she carried so clearly, and he knew that it still hurt. “Luna…,” his voice got stuck in his throat. “Why can’t you talk about your visions? I mean Professor Trelawney is also a seer. And she shares her visions calling them prophecies, right? Why don’t you?” Harry asked confused glancing at her from the side.

He saw a girl in her colorful clothes, fun accessories and her bright smile but it seemed like a broken facade. Next to him sat a girl with so much wisdom it would last lifetimes, with a burden she never wished for. And he could clearly see the small girl fascinated by everything, wanting to befriend everyone, who went through life singing and dancing in their own world. But right now Harry saw someone who had to witness her mother’s death twice. And his heart ached.

“I am not Sybill. My visions are about the people I have close connections to or spend a certain amount of time with. I am then able to see events in their future that will fundamentally change their being or course of life. Professor Trelawney is special you know. She has visions about everything from certain people to the course of civilization, about wars, good and evil, climate catastrophes and so on. She doesn’t need connection to people to see. She sees.” Luna explained to Harry tilting her head to look at him making sure he understood the difference in their abilities.

“Okay so Professor Trelawney shares her visions because it will affect a broader majority of people. But still, you can’t really do anything right? Because these things are bound to happen, right?”

“Well, that’s hard to say fate is a concept nobody really understands. Sybill shares her visions mainly because Professor Dumbledore asks her to. I don’t know more about her reasoning than this. There are no rules that tell us not to share our visions.” Luna sighed brushing a strand of hair out of her face that the wind had played with.

Harry nodded trying to take in all this newly obtained information. “But you don’t share your visions because it will affect people who might not take the knowledge about their future very well. Because they then might try to do everything in their power to change something that to our knowledge can’t be changed. You are trying to protect us by carrying the hurt.” Harry concluded his thought process. He felt uneasy he wanted to do something for her, help her bear the weight.

“Yes and no. You must know death always comes. There is no way of running from it. The day you’ll die will stay the day you die, even if I tell you how I saw your death. Death will take another route. Maybe even a more gruesome one. But he will get you no matter what. That’s what my mother thought me. And I am not the one to mess with fate since we understand so little about her and you shouldn’t be either.” She paused and looked unsure if to continue. “My mother did once. Voldemort as well.” Luna explained further taking a deep breath looking at Harry. “Let’s just say they both suffered the consequences.”

“They did?” Harry asked surprised. “How?” Only seconds after his questions had left his mouth, horrible guilt filled him, so he hastily added apologetically, “You don’t have to tell me obviously. If that’s too private I understand. I didn’t want to pry I’m sorry. I- I- spoke faster than I could think.”

A small smile appeared on her face. “Thank you for being considerate but its fine. Maybe fate wanted you to know all of this. That’s why she made you ask. We may never know.” She shrugged and turned her head towards the lake her eyes growing hazy as if she was drowning in the memories. Harry shifted growing slightly uncomfortable on the cold rock they were sitting on.

“My mother, her name was Pandora, she told me this story once to understand the consequences of my actions when it neared close to the day she would die. I wanted so desperately to do something to warn her thus she sat me down in her office and told me about her friend Regulus Black.”

Harry looked up surprised. “Black?” he asked.

Luna nodded. “Sirius’s younger brother. They had met in first year waiting to be sorted into their respective houses. That had been the beginning of their friendship and with that her visions about him started. She saw his death and the path that led him to it. My mother said she had seen him die of a poisonous potion he would have to drink for the task he would be obsessed over. So, she interfered trying to stop him from taking on that task. But when he wouldn’t listen, she convinced him to take Kreacher, his personal house-elf, with him thinking he would force him to drink the potion. She was wrong. Regulus ordered Kreacher to make sure he himself would drink all of it. My mother witnessed the changes of Regulus’s fate she had caused in excruciating pain while being stuck in her vision. This is a state you’d never want to let yourself get to. The edge to madness is near if you are stuck for too long.”

“But he isn’t dead yet. You said death always comes.”

Luna sighed sadly. “Hmm that’s what I said. The potion itself was not poisonous anymore that way he was able to finish the task he had set his mind to. But… the potion he had drunken caused him to be thirsty.”

She grew silent taking a moment before she continued her voice wavering. “So, he extended his arm to scoop up water with his hands from the lake he was surrounded by. As soon as his hands touched the surface corpses living in the hexed water grabbed him and dragged him down. Kreacher couldn’t do anything to save him. Regulus drowned and turned into one of those corpses. His soul unable to leave the hexed cave and return to the stars where it belonged. He was never meant to drown, never meant to turn into that gruesome thing, and this fact broke my mother. Had he died the way she had seen it, his soul could have left and reunited with his loved ones, since neither the water nor cave would’ve been hexed. But like this he will be jailed for eternity, and it was her fault.” She grew quiet.

“My mother never forgave herself for that. It was haunting her till the day she passed and still they can’t reunite.”

Silence settled once again between them. A few minutes passed before Luna started talking again.

“Voldemort on the other hand, wanted to change his own fate after he heard about Sybill’s prophecy about his own ending and how a boy born the end of July was the cause for it. That’s why you have your scar because he was convinced you were that boy. He wanted to change fate. Nobody knows why he disappeared, but I am sure that’s only the first consequence for his actions against fate.” Luna quickly summed up.

Harry was stunned and could do nothing else but stare at her. His heart heavy. Because if he understood her correctly his parents could still be alive if Voldemort had settled on another child born at the end of July. Who knew maybe things would stand entirely different if he had never heard of the prophecy. Maybe he would have been already defeated. His thoughts spiraling and his stomach turning.

She turned towards him “It is a blessing and burden. And in the end fate is fate. But you shouldn’t think about it too much or you’ll attract Wrackspurts.”

Somehow, she always knew how to ease the panic in his chest. Even if it was just for that moment, he was grateful. A small smile appeared on Harrys lips. She again shifted her gaze to look out across the lake and Harry did the same.

He shook his head and ruffled through his hair. “Right sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright. The want to know is only natural.” she smiled at him again. Her pink paper glasses with double-colored lenses were sitting on her head.

“You want these glasses? They are part of the new quibbler edition. They help you see the Wrackspurts around you and others. Oh, and there is an article that compares amulets for Nargles protection…”

“Thanks Luna. But I don’t really need that right now.” Harry smiled awkwardly at her. He hated telling her that he wasn’t interested.

“Oh okay. See you later then.” and she hopped away humming a tune that felt like childhood.

Harry continued walking past compartments. He wasn’t angry anymore, but he didn’t feel like returning to Ron and Hermione. So, he just continued walking on nearing the designated Slytherin compartment. In this train compartment the older Slytherins gathered and sat in their friend groups around tables. The light of the setting sun filled the compartment with soft light. Harry was leaning on the window of the train letting a few of the new first years pass, contemplating what to do next. He knew that this was the last compartment of the train, and he had no business in there.

Movement caught his eye, Draco walking up and down alongside the table with his friends. Pansy and Blaise on the left watched him intently trying to keep the conversation going. Crabbe and Goyle sat on the table on the right-side staring holes into space apparently not a part of the half-sided conversation. When Draco reversed again his back now turned to the entrance of the compartment where Harry stood an idea bloomed in his mind. A rather stupid idea a small voice in the back of his mind screamed but it was too easy to ignore.

He was fiddling with the hems of his suit trying to keep his hands busy. He had been walking up and down for the past 15 minutes but the thought of sitting still made him uneasy. Draco was aware of the worried looks his friends tried to hide from him. He knew this was not how he usually behaved but he couldn’t help it.

His stomach rummaged and his mind was running laps. What did Potter know? He had looked surprised, like he had realized something when they had gotten onto the train at the same time. And the uneasy feeling in his stomach knew what Potter had realized and why he froze upon seeing him. Deep down he knew that Potter had put one and one together. But his busy head chose to ignore it, telling him that it didn’t matter who knew. And still he couldn’t forget the expression on his face shock, anger, disgust and there was something else he couldn’t pinpoint. It looked almost like… compassion. No that couldn’t be Potter wouldn’t feel compassion for something like him.

He turned around again, and everything went black. Pitch black. His first thought was that he had died of a sudden heart failure or that he must have fainted. But it didn’t feel like that- he- he was still standing on his feet and his eyes seemed to work as well. He just wasn’t able to see anything. Screams echoed through the compartment; panic eroded. Everybody was confused, they were talking over another, bumping and shoving each other to get out of there.

The only thing he could think of was to reinforce his Occlumency wards. He used his magic to feel for a place where his wards might have already crumbled. With horror he realized his wards had come down farther than he had expected them to which in hindsight explained his spiraling mind. Draco shifted his focus from the chaos around him to his magic. Slowly he felt the welcoming effects, the comforting cool numbness spreading once again quieting his emotions until they were locked away under the wards. A protection for himself from himself and from others who might want to snoop around in his mind.

People around him were still shouting and it would’ve been a funny scene to watch if he could see something. But it didn’t sound like someone was attacking them or the train in its entirety. At least no one was firing hexes and curses around aimed for everyone and then no one in particular. Draco froze he felt something move upwards next to him. Something velvety flowing past him and then upwards.

He paused. How peculiar.

The darkness was slowly disappearing, and Draco had to squint by the sudden light that flooded the compartment again. He looked around in faces that were equally as confused as him.

“What was that? Blaise?” Draco said trying to sound calm. He walked closer to his friends and his seat eyeing Pansy and Blaise expecting answers from them.

“Don’t know.” Blaise shrugged still standing his wand in his hand Lumos casted. Draco made a mental note of whatever had been used to darken the room made even Lumos useless. He looked up to where the luggage rack was, but nothing was there only his briefcase laid lonely on the metal racks. Draco furrowed his eyebrows clearly something strange was going on here and he hated not knowing what.

“Calm down boys. Probably just a prank from the first years. You know how they are.” Pansy replied looking at him coyly. She brushed a strand of brown hair behind her ear and Blaise shook his head slightly with an amused smile. Blaise whispered Nox, smoothed out the wrinkles from his black suit and slowly sat back down.

“Sit down Draco. We will at Hogwarts soon.” her hands laid folded on the table as if she expected Draco to take them.

Draco looked at her his expression blank, but he complied and sat down next to Blaise.

“Hogwarts. This pathetic excuse of a school.” Draco said hoping to sound like his snobby self. A mask he had tried to perfect over the years. He had given up being someone else years ago, it was just easier to conform to the picture the people already had. It gave- no it used to give him the much-needed self-confidence. Further it also held people at a distance not daring to mess with him scared of what his father would do to them.

Pansy and Blaise exchanged glances both surprised by Draco’s remark.

But Draco was too distracted to notice. In the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw how his briefcase moved. But it couldn’t have moved on its own. Meaning someone or something was indeed hiding up there but why couldn’t he see him. He had the creeping feeling that whatever was up there was Potter. It was the only explanation that would make sense and everything that had happened was a very Pottery thing to do. His eyebrows furrowed again because he felt like he was staring directly at the thing he assumed was Potter and then again not. The feeling of being watched however made the hairs on his neck stand.

Noticing that the silence was stretching long, and his friends were waiting for an answer he added, “I would rather throw myself of the Astronomy Tower than go to school for another two years.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Draco?” Pansy asked confused.

“This means I will have more important matters to attend than spend the next years wasting away in transfiguration or runes.” Again, pretending to be proud of what his life looked like right now without giving too much away. Being what his parents wanted him to be. Trying to forget about the betrayal, his still unknown tasks and his death that was sure to come. But for now, he played pretend fully submerging himself into his mask as to not give Potter the chance to pry on something that mattered.

Why would he care if Potter knew if he was a Death Eater or not? If he knew he might keep away for the school year, which would be a welcoming change.

A small laugh came from Blaise which he quickly tried to mask as a cough. Earning a warning look from Draco.

“You find that funny Blaise? We’ll see who’s laughing in the end.” Draco retorted uppishly without the usual edge to it. He wasn’t really meaning it. Not when he was two steps away from his own grave. His eyes traveled upwards again while their table fell silent.

The sky slowly darkened and the lights in the train turned on. Blaise and Pansy started silently talking about their classes a conversation Draco gladly sat out on.

After a while the horn announced that they were nearing their destination Hogsmeade. People frantically began gathering their stuff, some were hastily changing into their uniform’s others were trying to waken their sleeping friends. The corridor between the seats quickly filled with overexcited students and backpacks that were an inconvenience for everyone who was still sitting. The blond shot multiple glaring glances at people who were entering his personal space which was enough for everyone to back away from him.

The train slowly came to a halt and the doors opened to let students out and the cold nightly breeze in.

Draco just leaned back in his seat pretending to be relaxed as the compartment slowly emptied. When the corridor was empty, he stood up, straightened his suit and fixed his tie to waste time. He stretched to get his briefcase and cane from the luggage rack and his hands slid over a cool smooth fabric next to his belongings. But still there was nothing there. As perplexed this discovery made him it confirmed his suspicion that someone was indeed up there and had been listening in.

Very carefully he pulled his luggage down. Aware of his friends waiting for him at the door, he placed his briefcase on the table pretending to look inside.

“You can go ahead. I just want to check on something.” Draco said dismissively, praying to sound convincing enough even for Pansy to not ask questions.

His friends once again exchanged confused glances. Blaise just shrugged and was the first to turn around and exit the compartment. This one-time Draco was glad that Blaise had stopped trying to make sense of him. It would make the ordeal of explaining what exactly he had to investigate a lot easier. He knew there would be questions especially from Pansy, she loved knowing what was going on in his life. But he also knew they would stop asking questions at some point.

A heavy feeling settled in his stomach. Draco knew he was being an asshole, and he also knew that they wouldn’t put up with him forever choosing to spend their time differently. He was also hyper aware of the fact that they were the only people even talking to him. But right now, they were an inconvenience, so the only logical step was to push them away.

Draco listened to their steps quieting and when he was sure that he was the only one left in the compartment he let his eyes wander. Completely empty with soft warm light from the small lights scattered around the compartment and the darkness from the outside it could be considered cozy in here. He spotted a carelessly forgotten jacket, and some left behind trash.

He made his way through the compartment to the door at the end and pulled it shut. Draco and the person who he deemed to be Potter were now alone. Since there was still quite the commotion outside on the platform Draco pulled down the blinds on the door which caused all the other blinds to come down as well.

The blond turned around slowly walking back to the bothersome nothingness on the luggage rack. He took his time walking back down to the table. There wasn’t really a plan, and all of this was probably a rather foolish idea. But right now, he was in charge, for once no one could tell him no or how he should behave instead. Those moments were rare and when these opportunities happened Draco didn’t have it in him to stop himself from investigating something he was interested in. He was his own person too, he deserved to do things out of his own free will even if it was just spite. That’s what he told himself to stop the guilt from overmanning him.

“Didn’t your mommy tell you it was rude to eavesdrop, Potter?” Draco snapped his wand ready in his right hand. Here was where the part of his plan ended.

Promptly, Draco saw a flash of black fabric and the light weirdly bending on the cool velvety fabric he had touched. Before his mind could really catch up with the situation Petrificus Totalus left his mouth and another flash of black clothing and honey skin could be seen falling. A loud crack of a body hitting and breaking the table and the final thud of the person ending up on the floor broke the silence in the compartment. Somehow the suspicious fabric Potter used to conceal his body magically ended up on top of him again, letting him disappear on the floor.

Draco took a small step, crouched down and tried to feel for the smooth cool fabric. He gripped it and pulled it away revealing a helpless Potter unable to move. A stunned facial expression frozen on his features. Potters’ glasses sat crooked on his nose behind them his eyes appeared dark green in this dim light. They locked with his and anger was prominent in the brunette’s gaze. Potters’ hair was a mess and due to the fall, they revealed his forehead with his scar. Faint in the soft light but a constant reminder of the Dark Lord; Draco now realized for the first time.

And somehow Draco’s mood worsened and the anger he had tried to temper surfaced. The anger wasn’t specifically directed towards Potter but against himself, his family, the world and everything in general.

“Oh yeah, I forgot she was dead before you could even wipe the drool of your chin.” Draco said looking down at him.

“And this is for what you did to my family’s reputation.” He added voice not as tough as he wanted it to be.

After the events in the Ministry last year and another failed execution of a plan led by his father. They had to lie low for a few months and lost a lot of prestige because Potter had once again crossed the plans. In those months his father did everything in his power to make it as miserable as possible for Draco.

If Potter hadn’t ruined his fathers plans once again, Draco maybe wouldn’t have to pay for his fathers’ mistakes. Draco wouldn’t wear the Dark Mark on his skin as a punishment. Maybe he wouldn’t have to be a Death Eater with tasks to complete that would determine his and his parents’ survival.

Anger was burning in his throat. If Potter hadn’t acted, hadn’t interfered like he always did, Draco wouldn’t be in this situation. Wouldn’t be walking straight towards his death.

All of this was Potters fault. Or so his heated temper was telling him.

Draco raised his foot from the floor and stomped down right onto Potters nose. A horrible knack from braking bones sounded through the compartment. When he removed his foot from the others face, he saw a crooked nose and blood flowing down his chin. And the sight of it made Draco’s stomach churn and his hands started to shake. He had done this.

“Have a good ride back to London.” Draco said hushed anger suddenly replaced by panic, as he grabbed Potters invisibility cloak from the ground and threw it over Potters immobile body. The fabric straightened out over him and as soon as it stilled Potter had disappeared. He would only be noticed if someone directly stepped onto him.

Draco turned around and quickly grabbed his earlier discarded briefcase and cane from the seats. He didn’t exactly run out of the compartment, but he left hastily. Or so he told himself. He pulled the door shut and made his way to the train doors, running a hand through his hair. The crack of the bones in Potters nose was still ringing in his ears.

When he stepped outside on to the platform the cold nightly breeze welcomed him, and he finally felt like could take a deep breath. If he made haste, he might be able to catch the last carriage to the castle grounds because he surely wasn’t walking all of that.

He had no idea how long Harry was bound by this curse. But he hoped it was long enough for him to be stuck on this train back to London, so he wouldn’t have to deal with him this year.

Ever since the first day at Hogwarts they were rivals. Back then Draco had made the first move to approach Potter. He had heard from his father that he would start alongside him and was told to befriend him. If he remembered correctly his father believed the friendship would be beneficial for the family’s reputation. So, Draco introduced himself the only way he had been thought but Potter had been stubborn and refused his friendship. In hindsight Draco had probably been disrespectful and obnoxious but he had also been 11 years old and even without his parents’ encouragement he had been genuinely interested in a friendship. And since then, they just couldn’t get along.

Every year he somehow got in trouble and somehow it always involved Potter. In first grade when they had to go into the forbidden forest and search for unicorns or in second grade when they had to duel or in fourth grade when he got transfigured into a ferret or… There were many instances, too many for Draco’s liking. Potter was just suspiciously good at ruining his plans. And Draco could really go without that for a year. Because he just had the feeling that Potter and his special talent of overcomplicating things would make this entire ordeal even worse for him.

The ground was cold against his back, the blood however that was spilling from his nose was disgustingly hot and made it hard to breath. The bitter taste of iron spread on his tongue and made him want to cough. But Harry couldn’t. He was stuck; his muscles weren’t listening. It was an odd feeling not to be in control of his body yet so aware of everything that happened around him. Trapped in his own body without a way to communicate or reciprocate anything. And Harry hated it. He had never been under this curse but now he understood what Neville had to go through in his first year.

The boiling anger he had felt when Draco had looked down on him was slowly fading away since he had a more important matter to focus on. Firstly, he needed to breath, he needed to get more than just little huffs of air, or he would pass out soon. His head already feeling suspiciously light.

Secondly, he needed to break this curse before the train would depart and started heading to London again. He was not going to spend the year with the Dursleys, that much was clear. Unfortunately, Harry did not know how to break the curse which only increased his discontent. Even if he knew and for a fact, he knew that Hermione had thought him the counter curse at some point, Harry wouldn’t have been able to perform it. One of his biggest weaknesses was wandless magic. He was good, no great even at powerful and advanced magic but he never had the talent for the fine arts of magic.

What Harry wasn’t sure of was if Malfoy knew this weakness of his and chose this curse specifically or if it was just a coincidence. But he couldn’t really think about Malfoys intentions right now since his air and time were running out.

Something that made his misery even worse was that even when someone did check the train before departure the person wouldn’t see him because Harry was buried underneath his invisibility cloak. This was the first time that his cloak was more of a burden than a blessing. He just had to hope that they would walk through the entire compartment because a broken table was suspicious and then accidentally step on him. But even that hope was shrinking since his head started throbbing more and more and it was increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open.

He gasped for air, trying to make a sound. Desperately, he tried to tense his muscles, begged for any movement…nothing. He couldn’t die like that. Not because of this pathetic try to spy on Malfoy. Not because he didn’t listen to the small voice inside his mind which had tried to warn him.

But he could do nothing more than to stare at the ceiling, brown wood with a red shimmer caused by the lights in the compartment. Dots of light started dancing before his eyes and his consciousness slowly slid away.

When he heard a soft hum vibrating through his bones. At first it wasn’t more than a whisper, but it steadily got closer and clearer. The melody comforting and familiar, like a childhood lullaby. It anchored his mind in this reality and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew who was the one humming.

Behind him Harry heard the doors slide open and the melody as well as a sweet earthy smell filled the compartment. Steps came closer and he saw a hand reach down to where he was lying, necklaces and chains were dangling as his cloak got pulled back. The hand disappeared out of sight again, the humming stopped and a soft Finite Incantatem was heard.

Instantly, Harry felt his muscles relaxing. Having regained control over his limbs he sat up coughing up the blood that had ran down his throat clearing his airway. Taking a saving breath of air. He didn’t know how much longer he would have survived.

After a couple of breaths, the throbbing pain lessened, and he felt somewhat human again. Harry slowly looked up to the person who had saved him. Blond locks and pink owl looking glasses with red and blue lenses hovered over him.

“Luna,” Harry exclaimed relieved his voice hoarse. Truly glad to see her. “What are you doing here?” he asked his voice sounding rough still sitting on the floor. He was pressing his sleeve against his nose to stop the bleeding, at the slightest touch or movement however pain was shooting through his body causing him to hiss.

“Wrackspurts,” she just replied while staring at the space over his head. He turned his head to see what she was staring at, but his neck cracked at that movement. Causing him to groan again.

“They are leaving your head,” she clarified as she pushed her glasses up in her hair.

“How did you know I was here?” Harry asked while he tried to stand up. Luna grabbed his arm and helped him up, stabilizing him as Harry was trying to find his balance.

A small smile appeared on her face. “I had a feeling, but I was also following them. The Wrackspurts let me here. Turns out they were both right.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. Not questioning her explanation further, just incredibly glad that someone had found him.

When Harry could stand on his own again, they collected Harrys backpack from his compartment and excited the train. The door fell shut behind them and for the first time since he had started at Hogwarts the platform was empty. A shiver ran down his spine. September had just begun but somehow the nights were already colder than just a few weeks ago. Fall was already knocking at the door begging to be let in.

They slowly started walking towards the castle. Neither of them speaking, but the silence was far from uncomfortable. That was something he treasured the most about their friendship, that there wasn’t the need to say something if there wasn’t anything to be said. Comfortable with the silence of the other.
Luna also wasn’t the one to ask questions either because she already knew the answer or because it wasn’t her business.

The path they were on was narrow and uneven lined by the dark forbidden forest. Unidentified noises travelled up to them, but Harry knew better than to question what was going on inside. He had learned early on that the forest had a life on its own.

His nose started to hurt more and more with every breath and step he took. Causing him to fall a little behind wincing at the stabbing pain that spread. Luna turned around and looked at him worriedly.

“I can fix that if you’d want me to,” she offered.

“Oh, have you done this before?” he asked her skeptical. He would have just gone to Madame Pomfrey when they were back at Hogwarts. But then he would have to find an explanation for how he got hurt. And if he was honest, nobody needed to know.

“Not on a nose. But I fixed some broken toes, and the difference isn’t that big,” she said light heartedly her silver eyes shining at Harry in the moon light.

“Uhmm, yeah sure… why not,” he replied offering her a pained smile. It was not that he didn’t trust Luna, it was more that she compared toes with a nose. In Harrys world that were two very different things.

Luna pulled her wand out of her jacket and pointed it at Harrys face which didn’t ease his worries in the slightest. Usually when someone pointed their wand at his face that wasn’t a great sign. Harry braced himself for the pain or whatever would happen next.

Episkey at that she flicked her wand and Harry’s nose cracked itself back into its original position. The pain stung worse than he had anticipated making him falter on the uneven ground but left as quickly as it came. His breathing felt normal again.

“And how-how do I look?” he asked cheekily.

Luna grimaced at him while she put her wand away. “Before you looked bold now you just look strikingly inconspicuous.” He chuckled at that.

“I have to thank you once again.” Harry looked at her earnestly, but she just waved it off and continued walking. Harry hurried to catch up with her.

“By the way I am sorry that you missed the last carriage back.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It felt like I was with a friend.” She replied a little dreamy.

“But we are friends Luna,” Harry retorted confused. “How often do I have to tell you that?”

“That’s nice,” she shrugged and continued her path. That was as much of an answer he would get out of her about this topic. Every time they would hang out Harry tried to convince her that he was a friend. But without fail her answer would be that’s nice. Never once accepting it as is. He sometimes wondered if it was her way of holding everyone at a distance, never letting someone too close.

The castle entrance slowly came into view and with that a stressed-out looking Professor Flitwick walking up and down behind the gates. When the Professor caught sight of them, he froze watching them intently while they came closer.

“Ah, there you are. I almost started to worry that the Dementors got to you on your way, Mister Potter. Your name.” Professor Flitwick said as he looked him up and down and then buried himself in his list again.

“Really? My name?” Harry questioned perplexed it had been years since anyone wanted to know his name. And besides that, Professor Flitwick was his teacher since year one and had just addressed him with his name. Furthermore, Harry remembered quite a few instances where the Professor had scolded him with his full name. It just seemed pointless to him. “But Professor-,” he started again.

“No exceptions, Potter.” Flitwick said sternly.

Harry sighed. “Harry James Potter,” Professor Flitwick nodded and crossed his name of the list. His gaze shifted expectantly from Harry to Luna who was deeply lost in her thoughts staring at the moon. Flitwick cleared his throat to get her attention. She looked at him surprised her eyes shining in the moonlight like liquid silver.

“Your name,” the Professor looked at her impatiently.

“Oh. Luna Pandora Lovegood, Sir.” Flitwick nodded and crossed her name of the list as well.

“You two better hurry and get changed, so you won’t miss the feast.” He said dismissively as he closed the gate to the castle grounds. A shimmer of magic lit up when the two sides of the gates touched.

Before the two of them walked off Harry cleared his throat. Something that the professor had said in his greeting had stuck with him.

“Professor-,” he began. Flitwick turned around he looked surprised that they hadn’t wandered off yet.

“What is it, Potter? Wasn’t I clear that you two should make haste,” he remarked disgruntled.

“Yes, Sir I understood that just fine. But you mentioned Dementors. Are they guarding the grounds again?” Harry asked. The last time Dementors were guarding the grounds was in his third year. And it brought more chaos than good.

The Professor nodded grimly. “That is indeed correct. Order of the ministry. And now off you go,” he ushered them away. Clearly uncomfortable answering more of Harry’s questions.

Harry nodded and shot a glance at Luna who shrugged, wordlessly they continued their way when they came across a big pile of luggage. A few Aurors surrounded the pile who investigated it thoroughly. When they were halfway around the pile Harry spotted a blond head of hair. Next to him he spotted a figure dressed in black robes who had to be Professor Snape. It appeared as if they were arguing with an Auror about something. Much to Harrys regret they were too far away to listen in. As they got closer Harry saw how Malfoy ripped his father’s cane out of the Aurors hand. They were now close enough to be within earshot but at the same time close enough to be spotted by them. Harry looked around for somewhere to hide, but it was too late.

Malfoy turned around abruptly staring at Harry. His eyes glaring with anger as if he wanted to strangle him with it. “Nice nose, Potter.”

Harry just huffed in response which caused Malfoy to turn on his heel and storm off. Professor Snape didn’t even acknowledge them instead he just shot one last glare at the Auror and hurried after Malfoy. His long robes made it seem as if he was a Dementor himself hovering over the earth.

Harry looked over at Luna who had been a silent bystander. But she looked unbothered, dreamy even. Harry was sure that she knew what had happened on the train. However, he also knew Luna well enough that she wouldn’t tell anyone. And at the moment he wondered whether she was even mentally present.

Harry knew they were late, not because Professor Flitwick had urged them to hurry but because it felt late as they walked the last few meters. The sorting ceremony had probably concluded already, meaning Professor Dumbledore was holding his speech.

Once inside the castle they quickly said their goodbyes and split. Harry hurried to Madame Pomfrey. He knew… well, he hoped she was still in her office and not already in the Great Hall, because he desperately needed an ice pack and maybe a healing potion. Although Luna had repaired the broken bone, blood was still dripping onto his shirt, and he had the feeling that it would swell. And he could very well go without an eggplant as a nose, in color and size.

As he walked the familiar route through empty corridors, he tried to come up with a convincing lie as to how exactly he had sustained this injury. He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly bumped into Madame Pomfrey who was just closing her office door.

“Ah!” she exclaimed surprised. “Mister Potter what brings you…” she began once she realized who almost ran her over, but she interrupted herself when she noticed the blood on his nose. Her expression serious as her eyes were darting over his nose assessing the damage. She reluctantly opened her office door again. “Come in. But we’d better hurry now.”

“Thank you,” Harry said relieved and slipped through the door behind her.

He took a few steps into the lowly lit room and sat down on one of the beds as she hurried to the back. The room wasn’t really an office more an infirmary. White beds lined each side with green curtains for more so-called privacy. Harry remembered quite a few nights where he didn’t get any sleep because even though he might not have seen his new roommates he had clearly heard them. Madame Pomfrey’s table was located at the end of the room in front of more curtains which separated the room. Behind the curtains she stored her potions, ingredients and bandages as well as other materials. While she was gone, he rummaged through his backpack for his robe which he decided to just pull over his normal clothes. This was the best he could do. He just hoped the blood on his shirt wouldn’t be too visible. Maybe Hermione knew a cleaning charm.

Madame Pomfrey hurried back towards him, and Harry knew the expression on her face a little too well. “You've been back for less than half an hour and you're already injured,” she scolded him softly. “What was it this time?” she asked as she gave him some remedy to drink. Which he downed quickly the bitter taste making him shake with disgust. He coughed.

“A first year decided to prank us and use some darkness powder,” he started which wasn’t even that far-fetched. “And then an elbow must’ve collided with my nose in the panic that followed. Luckily no one else was seriously hurt I believe.” He said satisfied with the story.

Madame Pomfrey didn’t look too convinced but didn’t ask any more questions. She cleaned his nose up with some disinfectant gauze and suddenly Harry felt like a little boy again being cared for by a mother he never had but always wished for.

“That should do.” She announced and dropped the gauze on the table next to his bed. She wrapped an ice pack which she handed to him to cool his nose. “Cool it for a little while. Even though the potion should reduce the swelling we should do everything so that your nose doesn’t turn into an eggplant, don’t you think?” she remarked at him playfully.

Harry hummed in response a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. By now Harry was sure that she had caught on to the fact that he wasn’t the most diligent follower of her advice on how to take care of his bruises. “Thank you,” Harry said.

Madame Pomfrey just nodded at that. “Leave your backpack here so you’ll remember to come back for another dose of the potion.”

Harry smiled at her constrainedly. “I will,” Harry agreed.

“You go ahead, Darling. I’ll just clean up swiftly,” she said on her way to disappear in the back.

Thus, Harry and his ice pack made their way towards the great hall.

The hallways he passed through were silent, everyone already gathered at the feast. The closer he got to the great hall, the brighter the lights shone, and more and more portraits were inhabited, greeting him as he passed. By the time he reached the grand staircase, he was sure that the news had already spread by the portraits that he had gotten hurt. News travelled fast when everything had ears, eyes and a mouth that loved to spread gossip.

The doors of the hall were open, and the happy chatter travelled towards him. The floating candles and the starry night sky on the ceiling healed something inside him he hadn’t noticed broke during the summer. The pleasant feeling of being home spread in his stomach.