Hello, I have a few things to say before I start the story, basically this is my first time travel fic and my first fic with an OC, so I'd like it if you gave constructive criticism, but be nice. Also, the character's name is my username, which may sound cheesy, but the name was in fact created for this character, so I'm keeping it. Finally, I hope I'm a good enough writer to convey the personality of someone you've never heard of before, because in my mind, that's what makes a good author. For those who are reading my other fic, A Magical Bond, I may appear to have abandoned it, but I promise I haven't, just be patient with me. Here goes!

Harry Potter is dead.

The words echoed around the eerily silent castle students and teachers alike cried at the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived in the gamekeeper's arms, and the Death eaters laughed. But Isobel didn't cry, or shout, or scream. She just stared at her friend, her yellow eyes blank. She knew that death happened in war, she heard people's stories and comforted them as they remembered. But the reality of it doesn't hit you until you're staring at it in the face. She had been hurt, she knew pain, ever since her childhood, but instead of weakening her, it turned her into someone who expected pain, into a weapon. She was made for war. Death didn't bring her down, she didn't care, didn't allow herself to care, until she had time. So she stared, knowing it would be up to someone in the crowd of students to bring their hope up, otherwise they would just let themselves be taken by Voldemort and punished for being a mudblood or for fighting for the light. A scarily soft voice jolted her out of her mind.

"The fight is over. Join me. Join my ranks, this is the last time I offer. You will be punished, of course, that you didn't see our way sooner, but those who refuse will die. Join me."

Urgh. How could someone as bloodthirsty as Voldemort have such a soft voice? Many people shuddered, but nobody moved. Finally he spoke again :

"Will nobody join me? ...Draco. Come. Your parents await, come."

Time froze. Draco. Isobel's eyes scanned the crowd around her, but didn't see him until he stepped forward. His blond hair was matted with blood, his robes slightly burnt, and his face. His face was the most horrid. He had given up, he had lost hope. Anger burning through her veins like so many times before, Isobel stepped forward after him.

"Draco."

He stopped. Her voice had reached him and he stopped. He didn't turn, he was unable to look at her face, into those yellow eyes that held so much softness but so much ferocity at the same time. But he stopped to listen, and so she continued :

"Draco, it's over. This is it. Now is the time you choose. You've never had that chance. The battle isn't finished, I'll keep fighting, and the others will too once they wake up, you can keep fighting too. Do what you want to do Draco, not what people tell you."

People murmured around her, no one understood why she was giving him a chance. But that's just who she is. She never hesitated beating up someone who preyed on the weak, but she also tried to understand why they acted that way. And on the first day the students came back from Christmas in fifth year, smelled the blood on him, saw him tremble, she understood Draco. They had become fiends, and she tried to help him escape the grip of his father. He trusted her to get him out of messes, he listened to her. And so, as he stood, immobile, he decided to turn, look her in the eyes. Grey met yellow for seconds, until he finally looked away, straight at his parents.

"Mother, Father. My apologies, but I've decided to live my own life. Goodbye."

He turned, stalked his way back up the steps, and caught Isobel's hand in his. Voldemort, however, was fuming. As the blond reached his white haired friend, he screamed those dreaded words, and a green light shot from his wand. Isobel only had time to push him, before the light wizzed passed. She turned to the offender, trembling in fury, her eyes glowed, her nails elongated into black claws, and a growl ripped from her throat. She shot a curse at the closest Death Eater, and within seconds, the battle was blazing again.

They were being pushed back into the castle, but she caught the sight of arrows flying from the forest, and grinned. Curse after curse, she found herself dueling Bellatrix, and her eyes glowed once again. This was the bitch who had killed Sirius, her friend, her mentor, and she would pay. Dearly. The two fought, one growling and snarling, the other cackling. But before long, Isobel was within arm's distance of the offending witch, and lashed out. Blood spurted from Bellatrix's throat and Isobel stopped to watch as she fell to the ground bleeding out, before wiping her bloodied hand on her robes. She heard a shout, turned around and was instantly in a duel with the Lestrange brothers. She could easily fight the two, but one of them – Rodolphus maybe – was pissed. He was shooting curses she had never seen before with a speed she troubled to keep up with.

She managed to protect herself, but then she heard a voice she never thought she would hear again. Stupidly, she turned her head. She saw Harry emerge from his invisibility cloak after he had deflected a killing curse coming her way, and heard people cheer and call his name, but in that moment, Rodolphus hit her. Square in the chest, where a blue light started to expand, to cover her whole body, and then she was swirling, being squeezed, and promptly passed out.