Prologue:
In one small moment I realised that I had not been the unassuming uninvolved figure I had fancied myself to be in the story I had patiently been watching throughout those two years. It was more than that now. I couldn't deny myself that sliver of hope.
But I am getting ahead of myself. I haven't even introduced myself yet, how rude.
If you could please imagine a large cold room in which no one stands except yourself. It is very dark, so much so that you cannot see anything but two words written on the wall in front of you in which you try to convince yourself is red paint. These two words read 'get out'. They had not been there a second ago. They had appeared in the microsecond of a blink.
That feeling you would have.
That is me.
Chapter One: Taking on the World
I roam around finding someone to hold me all the time, often succeeding in the most unlikely and predictable places.
This story is about when I was in the grasp of a boy by the name of Draco Malfoy. My story is little about him though. I tell it from his point of view, for at the time I was carried by him practically every hour for hundreds of days. Of course do not make the presumption that I am the only one of my kind. Many people in the place they called Hogwarts carried my kin and my friends in those days. I sometimes flitted from person to person when I felt their need for me but so often the human who needed me the most was Draco Malfoy. He would take over a broken challenge, a faulty mission, a defective operation. Of course he would want me. He knew if he failed my old friend Death would introduce himself in his soft voice and I would stay with the poor boy until he let me go and left with Death to forget his failure.
I was first pulled into Draco's grasp on a day in his house (or manor as he called it) a year before that malfunctioning assignment was delivered to him from the tongue of the Dark Lord himself. Suspicion, who I often replaced or accompanied in people, had called me in. Suspicion explained to me that his presence was necessary because Draco could sense that the man by the name of Tom Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and No-Nose (my personal nickname for him in honour of his unfortunate facial structure) was gaining power. His father, Lucius was rather involved in Voldemort's return to strength, and for the first time, I was pulled into the situation/Draco's arms. My family had told me of their time in his grasp throughout the years, watching his tear-filled fights with the man named Lucius, but as for me personally I had never met Draco before. I didn't know that I would be his almost constant companion for the following two years until the day I like to call my 'conversion'.
The first few days I was with Draco were uneventful and bland. Those first days were of little importance to the story though, and I admit I was bored. My friends stayed with me though; I saw Nervous all the time and we got on well, but Determination was a less often seen face to me. Draco fumbled with Determination quite a few times, and I laughed to hear Determination grumble and moan with the maltreatment. Nervous and I were held more tightly, and sometimes Draco found it hard to pick up other things for his grasp on us was so solid.
My story is told from the foothold I had in Draco Malfoy, from my sanctuary in his arms, from the comfort I had with my friends though Draco had none himself.
It is told from where Draco was standing, but it is about the boy named Fred Weasley, and how I suddenly found myself screaming at Death to leave him where he was, broken and cold on the rubble of the castle, the tears of his family washing me away.