Draco Malfoy and the Rise of the Phoenix
Prologue
He was so tired and yet as he looked around the Great Hall he saw so many others who were even more tired than he was. The battle was ended, they won, but they didn't celebrate much, or laugh, or smile. Instead they sat in small groups, heads bowed. From many eyes tears streaked their dust covered faces. Those tears would continue to fall, on and off, for some time to come. He could hear whispers around him, some were about him, but he tuned them out, they were unimportant at this time.
His gaze continued to move over the Great Hall, where everybody sat in small groups, no longer separated by house but collected instead in families and friends. Those who lived when so many others hadn't, the survivors. Dust continued to settle in the large chamber, floating like a fine cloud in the air, making everything look just a little misted. He looked up, to the ceiling, wondering what the night must look like on this, a day like no other before it. A small noise escaped his throat, and his eyes became moist at the sight above him. The magic that had amazed so many was cracked, you could see the stars in parts but in other areas there was nothing but blank stone. He never realized just how much that image, that mirror of the world, had meant to him.
His companions heard his intake of breath and looked at him curiously but he avoided their eyes. They were the last ones he wanted to see him showing emotions like this. He needed to hide what he was feeling from everybody.
He needed to think, to plan, to figure out just what he was supposed to do now, now that it was all over. Voldemort was dead, his followers were being rounded up at this moment. But where to go from here? He needed to go someplace else, somewhere quiet and away from...everything and he feared….everyone.
He stood up from the table, and felt a hand on each arm, holding him in place, keeping him from leaving. He looked down at them, silently considering them and what they meant to him, what they had helped him do and how it seemed they had always been an overwhelming part of his life.
In what seemed like hours but was really only seconds he came to the conclusion that he couldn't stay with them anymore. They wouldn't follow where he was going next, they couldn't. But they would argue with him, trying to change his mind. He wouldn't be shocked if they tried to do even more than talk. But it was too late for that now, he had been thinking about this for years, in the back of his head, hiding where he couldn't see it until he was ready to accept it.
He pulled away from them, turning to walk away. They stood as though to follow him but then looked around and sat back down. They were more concerned with being noticed than they were with him. He walked out of the hall, the whispers following, but fading until he couldn't hear them anymore.
Wandering through the damaged castle he didn't know where he was going. He moved along the empty halls, noticing that the dust was even thicker out here, making him sneeze. Broken stone, and empty armor littered the floor, he had to step carefully in places where the stone beneath his feet was cracked and uneven. Though nearly everything was coated in a thickening blanket of the dust in the area, everywhere he looked he saw that which caused him the most pain. Blood was everywhere, on the walls, the floor, pooled in corners but no longer wet. The final proof of the evil that had been done here this day. His own losses barely registered, they would haunt him later though, he knew that.
He still didn't know where he was going, but he wasn't surprised when he got there either. He glanced at the Gargoyle, leaning drunkenly in the hallway. "Don't mind me." it says, "Go on up."
His legs felt like lead as he slowly climbed the spiraling staircase, uncertain of what to expect when he reached the top. But he knew this was where he needed to be, he just wasn't sure why. He stopped at the door at the top of the staircase, his hand reaching for the doorknob but stopping just short. He pulled his hand back and turned away from the door. Going back down the stairs a short way he stopped and sat on the stone stair. He dropped his head into his hands. "What am I doing here?"
He lifted his head, as though he had heard something, pausing to listen closely. When he heard nothing more he squared his shoulders and stood up. If he wanted any chance at a normal life he needed to start now and this was the first step. He went back to the door and turned the handle, slowly allowing the door to swing open.
The room appeared untouched by the battle, other than the ever-present dust. He saw the Pensive sitting on the desk, left there after its last use. Many of the pictures surrounding the room were empty, but one, the largest, was occupied. Hanging behind the headmasters' desk and chair Dumbledore smiled slightly, a twinkle in his crinkled blue eyes. Still young after over a 100 years.
"Hello Draco, I was hoping you would stop by."
This is the end of my prologue, I hope you enjoyed it. This is my first go at writing and I am not sure how often I will update this, at least once a week I would think. Please, let me know your opinion.