The Order Of The Dragon: The marked ones

Verse: Harry Potter (film)

Genre: Angst/romance/family/friendship Supernatural

Rating: T

Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione, Luna/Neville, Harry/Ginny, Ron/Lavender

Song: Various chapter appointed.

Summary: In the moments after the battle of Hogwarts Five students vanish. Each one having been marked; they have been singled out to bring back the ancient order of the dragon and stop a greater evil from reclaiming the world once more.

Prologue

Extract from History of Magic: Merlin's order:

Legend states that upon the creation of the round table and Camelot Merlin wove magic and steel among the knights. It was only years later when magic slowly became less of an everyday occurrence that Merlin withdrew it's commonplace among the knights of the round table and created his own Order.

It is not known what type of spells Merlin used to form the Order of The Dragon and many have speculated that he, in fact, used a bonding spell to create the bond of the Order.

Much is not known about Merlin's private order as any reference is hoarded by different ancient cultures.

As to date, there has not been a new order in over a thousand years.

She didn't want to think.

She didn't want to move.

The oppressive nature of the battle hadn't really made an impact on her until it was lifted. Voldermort's dark and horrific reign had finished and now the future was unknown. No more threat of Harry's death, no more threat of a war of children.

They were all free but yet they were not. She had wanted to think that maybe just maybe that once Voldermort's disfigured life ended that somehow all those who stood and fought would suddenly feel like children instead of the soldiers they had become. But that feeling had hit and with a strangled cry she knew it never would.

For those who fought both for and against the children would never experience that given right that was theirs at birth. And it made her angry, so very angry that the magic cracked it the air around her. Even as she stumbled her way along the grounds- the battlegrounds- of Hogwarts, she knew she looked like some warrior ready for her next battle, instead of the seventeen-year-old girl who had lost so much. Things that been taken from her and things she had given away so easy for the greater good.

Clutching her wand so tight that it buckled slightly, she seethed in her rage.

She seethed in rage for Voldermort because of his screwed up view of the world he had deemed it right to spread his dark will across the world that should have been filled with magic and wonders.

She seethed in rage at Dumbledore because he honestly accepted that a boy should have the burden of being the chosen one thrust into hands and that title should make up for being made to feel worthless by his blood relatives. That after everything he lost the knowledge that he was some powerful piece on the chessboard of war should be enough for him despite everything had been ripped away from him.

She seethed in rage at Ron for finding it so easy to leave them behind. Had he thought so little of them that his return at the eleventh hour would hold back the hurt both his friends held? Of course, it would because Harry would forgive and so would she because she was in love with. She had assured herself that she should love him.

She even seethed in rage at Harry because he so blindly followed Dumbledore and never once questioned that he could have his own mind- his own fate if he so demanded it.

"Granger" the voice croaked and she stopped, the air hissing, her wand groaning at its torment over her abuse of it. There standing off towards the castle was someone had raged at for so many years that in that moment she didn't have time to list why she hated him.

However the scar carved into her arm throbbed in memory; not of who had been craving but of those eyes she was meeting now and knowing that he stood by and watched.

She should hate him for that. That she shouldn't be logical and she should scream her hate at him but she couldn't because he was seventeen years old.

He was a child forced to believe vile words that had moulded him.

He had willingly denied their identities in the face of an overpowering force.

He didn't look away when each letter was carved into her flesh; not because he enjoyed it but because he had forced himself to watch each tear that was ripped from her eyes.

It was easy to think him a coward but he stood and watched. Even when her screams had made him wince he had taken his punishment with pride.

"Go away" her voice sounded so far away, so detached that she blinked and watched as he shimmered before her eyes.

"Granger!" she looked towards her feet, that movement alone was so slow and heavy that she wondered if she had been hit by some curse. Maybe she hadn't been so lucky or maybe she was wrong.

"Granger" the blur of blonde stopped dead and she saw faintly that he was shimmering.

Then there was darkness.

Maybe once upon a time, he would have been a different person.

maybe once upon a time, he would have been given a chance at a happy ending. But that had been stolen from him years ago, probably long before his birth when his father couldn't be brave enough to understand how wrong it all was and instead became a sheep.

Maybe once upon a time, he might have been a hero but that hadn't been right because that wasn't a real thing anymore.

There were no heroes anymore, not even Potter was claiming to be that anymore because just like everyone else had blood staining his hands.

Potter might not have demanded an army to follow him but had had gathered one and he had blood on his hands and that didn't make him a hero.

It made him an accessory. Voldermort was a murderer and Potter was his partner; unwilling but still a partner.

The red on his hands was pure blood and there was no difference between it and the none pure blood that spotted the floor. He had no problem with defending himself in the battle, in fact, it was easy because he never killed anyone; stunned or hex sure but never killed them.

Until he did and he clamped his teeth so hard on his lips to stop the mad laugh that wanted tumble from his mouth. He hadn't even used his wand to kill the death eater, he had used his bare hands because some where along the corridor his wand had splintered and he couldn't find it in himself to want to hold another wand.

Not after seeing what being a wizard for Voldermort had meant.

The tears stung as he rubbed the dirty blood of a child killer from hands but that laugh bubbled up again because he knew that it would never be removed.

A child.

That crazed bastard of a dark wizard had ordered the deaths of children- not just teenagers but children.

The dead gaze of that child would haunt him, even more than the sound of cracking bones and the wet pop of his fist connecting with the mess he had made of the death eaters face.

He was a murderer and an accessory after the fact.

He grunted as he tried to peel the skin away with the blood, he felt the sting of pain as a scratch went deeper than he first thought but it was met with relief.

"Theo?!" the tanned neutral boy didn't stop his feverish scrubbing nor did two strong hands attempting to stop him. The blood wouldn't leave him; those eyes stared up at him.

That laughter bubbled up and spilled from his lips.

He was a murderer of a sick bastard who stole a child's life and that would never make him a hero.

"Merlin Theo stop!" the bark stopped him from removing a layer of skin but it didn't chase the itch far enough away. The itch lingered teasing him.

It would get him.

"It's over Theo" Blaise looked so older. So tired and wore away that he shook his head. Maybe they would all be marked out that way, the generation of killers and accessories.

That laugh bubbled up again and Blaise looked sad now, so sad that maybe his friend was fading away.

No that wasn't right Blaise was fading away; shimmering in and out of focus.

Panic and his name being called were the last things that happened before darkness crept in.

Darkness took the sight of the blood and those glazed eyes away for a while.