The sun was falling behind the horizon. A tall, built teenager sprinted north through dense woods. His black robes trailed on the ground behind him as he slowed to a brisk walk. Dusk was now upon him. He looked over his shoulder anxiously and was relieved to see no movement. His facial features were shrouded by the shadows his hood cast. He surveyed the area and felt he was out far enough away from the protective charms cast over the most famous witchcraft and wizardry school ever built. He quickly turned on his heel and apparated with a telltale crack. He still felt dizzy when he arrived and stumbled through a puddle of water and into the enormous wheat field surrounding him, his exhaustion, unbearable. He eventually arrived at a tall, shabby house known as the Burrow. Forgetting how unwelcome he was there, he knocked on the door and immediately collapsed into unconsciousness.
***
Awaking to a dimly lit living room, the stranger rubbed his eyes. He sat up quickly at the sound of frantic whispers and strained to hear them. The hurried voices were coming from behind a closed door at the other side of the room. He inclined his head as if it would aid his eavesdropping. After listening to the undistinguishable words for several seconds, the teen fell back into the couch, feeling defeated. He clasped his hands together, twiddling his thumbs. He heard the doorknob turn and click, and his eyes darted upwards towards it.
A balding, red headed man meekly stepped in with a plump woman about his age on his arm. Following her were three teenagers. One had unruly black hair and piercing green eyes behind circular rimmed glasses. The boy was known to everyone as The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, noticeable by the telltale lightning bolt scar on his forehead. A tall boy with ginger hair and a girl with a frizzy mane of brown accompanied him. The visitor locked eyes with her. His ominous blue eyes were filled with extreme fear. Her brown eyes mimicked his but an intense anger lingered in there as well. He quickly looked back down at his fingers in fear of similar looks from her colleagues. Mr. Weasly, the man he had come to see, raised his wand. His meek look turned into anger, and rage filled his eyes as they fell upon his left forearm. "You need to get out of my house," he growled.
The unwelcome visitor shook his head. "There's something I have to tell you, and I'm not leaving until you hear me out." His voice was cold, unrelenting, but it held honesty. The others glared but signaled for him to continue. At that moment, a girl, whom he could safely assume was a Weasly, walked in and rested her hand on Potter's shoulder, who glanced at her but did not unfold his tense arms. She looked at the guest; her demeanor, calm. Her eyes were full of curiosity, not hate. Their company turned and spoke, mostly to her. "Draco Malfoy turned."
"Well, no duh, dip-shit. He's always been bad," sputtered the tall boy, red-faced.
"No. I mean he's turned on the Dark Lord. He needs back-up and he ordered me to get you. How long have I been unconscious?" he asked, absorbing courage and a composed feeling from the girl Weasly.
"Only and hour or so," said Harry, his arms dropping his arms to his side.
"Well, we'll need to apparate into Hogsmeade. There's no time. The Death Eaters had a meeting in the castle. Draco, apparently, told the teachers to hide and was just about to signal for an attack when I left. He also said to tell you that the," he paused and shivered. "Horocruxes were all destroyed except for the snake."
And me, thought Harry. Dumbledore's will had arrived earlier this summer. He left Harry but a letter. He deciphered it with a great deal of help from Hermione. They weren't too shocked to find out Harry was the last Horocrux, seeing as he did not have very much luck. None the less, it was still a blow to them. They all agreed not to tell Ginny, though.
"…and Moody plus a bunch of other Aurors are there as well," Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the informant that sent him into them. The Death Eater pulled out a coin the four teenagers recognized from the DA two years earlier, and the girl with the bushy hair smirked. "Apparently, Longbottom has killed the snake with the sword of Gryffindor," informed the boy, awestruck. The trio looked at each other, obviously relieved.
"I know this is not a great time, but if you don't mind me asking, what is your name?" asked the young Weasly girl, curiously.
"Rowland," he smirked. Without another word, she walked up confidently and pulled back his hood, revealing white blonde hair and distinctive high cheekbones.
"You're a Malfoy," the other girl gasped and jumped behind the boys.
"I'm Ginny," the confident one said as she extended a hand. He shook it, hesitantly. "I know this is not really a good time for introduction, but it's necessary and will be done quickly. This is my mum and my dad, my brother, Ron, Hermione Granger, and, of course, Harry Potter." She swept her had across the room. He nodded to each of them and stood up, noticing that wands were no longer pointed at him.
His shaggy hair was blonde like the younger Malfoy, but it was dark at the roots. He pulled his hood back up and walked out the door. "We don't have much time," he called back and apparated with a crack.
The others followed silently, leaving Harry as the last one in the house. "What just happened?" he muttered to himself, shaking his head. He noticed the absences and jogged out the door to catch up with the others.
Everyone arrived at Hogsmeade with a loud crack. Rowland arrived first and Harry last while Ginny apparated with her father. Rowland silently turned to walk up towards Hogwarts as soon as Harry appeared. The cool summer air made the hike to the school scarcely bearable through his thick black robes.
When everyone reached the open, wrought iron gates, he ushered them to stop. He drew his wand and turned towards them, his blue eyes glinting. The atmosphere immediately tensed and fists clenched. "I knew we couldn't trust him," Ron hissed in Harry's ear. When he simply caressed it with both hands, everybody relaxed.
"The wood is ash with a black finish. The core is snake venom. I bought it in Knockturn Alley with my father," he cooed. Hermione looked at him, almost disgusted. "I was produced to be bad. My father molded me to be a Death Eater. My brother showed me the light, and now I shall fight alongside The Boy Who Lived and his friends." He looked up from his wand, eyes blinking back tears. "Thank you," he whispered. His expression filled with sincerity.
With that, he turned away and walked swiftly towards the double doors. His expression was cold, as if that moment had never happened.
He arrived at the front doors and used his wand to swing them open. The others quickly hurried after him, eager to defend their friends. To Rowland, everything seemed to be in slow motion. Jinxes flew around him, narrowly missing him. A killing curse came so close that the motion knocked off his hood. He didn't notice, for he had one destination in mind.
They were dueling at the top of the steps. He had eyes for nothing but them. His accent was becoming more dangerous as more curses flew around notifying him that the others had joined the battle. He reached the top of the stairs, and the grimace on his face would have made a werewolf wet his pants.
He gripped his shoulder which was bleeding profusely as the result of a stray Sectumsempra. His face was decorated with shallow cuts from flying curses, mostly Avada Kedavra. Draco Malfoy was in a heated battle with their father. So concentrated on his youngest son, Lucius didn't notice as his eldest approached. Rowland glanced at Draco, who gave him a curt nod. "Avada Kedavra!" shouted Rowland. It hit his father square in the back. He fell forward at his son's feet. Draco nodded again, a worried scowl imprinted on his face. Draco ran off to help others, and Rowland made his way to the Great Hall. He heard an earsplitting scream escape from Bellatrix Lestrange. An extremely powerful urge to leave Hogwarts' ground washed through him, sending him to his knees. He broke into a cold sweat, and, at that moment, he knew.
The Dark Lord was gone.
They were safe.
He was free.
He looked up, and there stood Harry, triumphant. Several people rushed into the Great Hall, including his brother. Bella was thrown into a wall, at that point in time, causing her to fade into unconsciousness. The walls crumbled as if trying to finish the job. Harry was immediately flanked by tons of volunteers. Rowland looked at Draco across the hall, communicating with him silently.
Everyone began taking seats and started conversing with their loved ones. The losses they sustained were few in number but brutal, none the less. Rowland took a seat to Hermione's right. Her eyes were red and puffy for a reason unknown to him. Draco silently slid onto the bench on his right.
"What happened?" Rowland whispered without taking his eyes off of her.
"Potter gave himself up. Initially, he died, but somehow he survived the killing curse again," his brother hissed into his ear, so as not to be heard. Ginny was whispering comforting words to Hermione even though it was evident she'd been upset, too. The two girls hugged each other, and Rowland looked around to see if he could identify anyone else. A few of his old schoolmates, such as Oliver Wood, were gathered at an old house table.
He turned back to the group he was with and surveyed them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasly were conversing lightly, as if she hadn't just knocked out one of the most feared Death Eater ever known. Harry was still surrounded by people, and Ron looked sourly in his direction. Jealousy was evident in his expression. Rowland looked towards the entrance and saw Professor Severus Snape conversing with the new Headmaster, Minerva McGonagall. Snape fleetingly looked in his direction, and Rowland returned it with a quizzical stare. McGonagall seemed to finalize something. With a parting glance, Snape swept out of the hall.
Rowland turned to his brother who looked solemn and haunted. His face was unusually pale, even for a Malfoy. His cheekbones were more pronounced than they should have been, and he looked way thinner than his normal gangly self. He looked dreadful. Draco was staring off into space with a pained look on his face, and his mind was obviously preoccupied.
Rowland turned his attention toward Hermione, who was looking at him with her head cocked sideways, scientifically. "I thought I only had to put up with one Malfoy," her voice was indifferent because she was merely curious, not angry.
Rowland decided no to be difficult. Then, as he opened his mouth to speak, he had a change of heart. He planted a sneer on his face and cocked his head, mockingly, in the opposite direction. "You're not nearly as ugly as Draco made you out to be. You're worse," he paused for her reaction. "Wanna know why?" he furthered, testing her limits. She crossed her arms and pulled her lips into a pout. "Because," he continued without waiting for an answer. "You're pretty for a Mudblood." He laughed heartily. A grin stretched across his face. Her eyes widened and jaw slackened.
He snickered and shouted at Ron. "Oi, Weasly," he called out, snapping Ron's envious gaze away from Harry.
"Whadoyou want, Malfoy," he growled, sulkily.
"Granger's pretty, isn't she? Or am I on pixie dust?" Ron's ears turned crimson, but he didn't respond. Rowland's amusement at Ron's embarrassment was evident. He heard an angry whisper escape the girl with a furrowed brow who happened to be sitting beside him. "What's that, Muddy?" he leaned in.
"You don't have to call me a Mudblood," she exclaimed furiously through gritted teeth. She uncrossed her arms and reared the right one back. A second of surprise flitted across his features, but he ducked and came up holding his stomach due to laughter. Hermione's hand's momentum caused her to knock down the empty golden dishes. Utter shock filled her face. Rowland was laughing so hard he was nearly gasping for air.
"Aw, you guys are so adorable," he said through pants. Hermione's pout returned, and Ron scowled, all the while, his ears growing a darker red.
They heard a loud thump echo throughout the hall. Eyes flitted about searching for the source. Ginny had fallen from her place on the bench in between the scarlet faced Ron and an angry Hermione and was giggling feverishly.
"I don't see what's so funny," Hermione mumbled through pursed lips. Rowland had stopped his loud guffaws, but an enormous smile was plastered on his face. He offered his hand to the young, fiery haired girl lying on the floor to help her up.
He, then, turned to his brother and heartily thumped him on the back. The younger boy was looking at them, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth.