A/N: Okay, um, wow. Here we are, at my third revision of 'Shadow of the Past'. If you've already read SOTP, the parts with the girl haven't changed, but the parts with Harry and the gang have changed greatly, so it is crucial that you read that at least. Anyway, this is also my last chapter Harry/Draco story in which I actually try and defeat Voldemort. There may be others, short chapter stories, cute one-shots. AUs, ect., but this is really my last long Harry Potter one. Probably. Well, enjoy! Adios!
-CatJetRat
Chapter 1
The Girl
Pre HBP
Normal POV
The girl lay in a ball on the hard stone floor. She was quivering weakly, and her clenched eyelids flickered open for a moment, and she took in her surroundings, before squeezing them shut again. She wasn't sure how long she had been there, wherever 'there' was, but she did know that she felt horrid. Her body was aching all over, and there was a distinct ringing in her ears. Echoing footsteps on the cold stone caused her to look up. She tried to say something, but her voice would not come to her.
"Shhhh, child," the man said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "You need to sleep now. You are not strong enough yet. Sleep," he said, and, waving his hand across her face, caused her to fall deeply asleep again.
The man considered placing her in a bed, but knew that being in contact with the floor was better for her. She could draw strength from stone better than the warm sheets of a bed, and the man knew that if she did not gain her strength, she would die, as she was meant to in the first place.
DH
Normal POV
"Draco Malfoy is dead."
These were the words which echoed through the early morning hours in the kitchen at the Burrow. Harry's fork clattered to his plate and he leapt up, snatching the paper from Hermione, who looked rather disgruntled.
"Sure, Harry, you're welcome to my paper," she muttered, looking over his shoulder at it.
YOUNG DEATH EATER FOUND DEAD
August 29-Earlier today, Draco Malfoy, 17, was found dead near the Ministry of
Magic. His body was mutilated, and he appears to have been trying to
reach the civilian access booth. Healers confirm that he did not die from
the many wounds on his body, but was hit with Avada Kedavra. No
word yet on who killed him, or why, but there is speculation that those
opposing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may be responsible, due to
the fact that the Dark Mark on his arm was sliced apart.
Draco Malfoy was a fugitive, who participated in the attack on Hogwarts
School last June, and aided in the murder of Albus Dumbledore. Hogwarts
School is reopening September 1st, with more stringent security measures,
and children of Death Eaters will not be allowed to go back. Minerva
McGonagall will be the new Headmistress.
Draco Malfoy was son to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy is currently
in Azkaban, and Mrs. Malfoy could not be reached for comment.
Harry swallowed hard, and read the article several times over before handing it back to Hermione. He sank back down into his chair and stared at his half-eaten breakfast, suddenly not very hungry. Ron wandered into the kitchen, yawning and scratching his stomach.
"What's up?" he said sleepily. Then he spotted the paper in Hermione's hands, and Harry's somber, rather sick look. All sleepiness instantly vanished from his eyes. "Who is it?" he asked warily. "Are they dead?"
Hermione nodded mutely and handed the paper over, slowly sitting down next to Harry. Ron read the article over once, and looked up, surprise in his features.
"Why the sad faces?" he asked, grinning. "This is great! We'll never have to deal with Malfoy again! I mean…."
"Ron, be quiet," Hermione said flatly, gesturing at Harry, whose mind was swimming with confusion.
Harry felt an odd pain building in his stomach, and a weakness seemed to overtake his limbs. "I'm just going to…" he mumbled, gesturing towards the stairs. He shuffled up them, and proceeded to the twin's room, where he was staying.
Bill and Fleur's wedding had taken place a couple weeks earlier. The house had been insanely hectic at the time, as the wedding was being held on the front lawn. Harry had enjoyed watching the many people rushing around the house, and Fleur looking, for the first time since the Second Task, when she'd been terrified for her sister Gabrielle, frazzled and worried. There were a mixture of beautiful, French-speaking people floating around the house, and red-haired, less-beautiful English-speaking people clomping up and down the stairs, consuming more than their fair share of the food Mrs. Weasley endlessly doled out.
Harry had stayed at the Dursley's until his seventeenth birthday, as Dumbledore had requested, and then went to stay at the Burrow for the last month of the summer vacation. When he got there, he found himself being bombarded with reasons to go back to Hogwarts, the main one being that perhaps Dumbledore's portrait could help him. In the end, just before the wedding, he finally cracked and agreed to go back to Hogwarts for at least a few months.
Being around Ginny had been difficult, at first. He would laugh at a joke she'd told, and a sudden longing would fill his heart to be with her again. They'd be playing Quidditch, and he'd look at her flushed face, a boyish grin adorning it, hair pulled back like Bill's, and he'd wish he'd never broken up with her.
And yet, as time passed, a strange thing began to happen. He began to forget about her. At the beginning of the summer, other than thinking of the Horcruxes, all he thought about was her. Halfway through, he found himself only thinking about her occasionally. By the time he got back to the Burrow, he was barely thinking about her at all, concentrating more on the Horcruxes, and where Snape had gone, what had happened to Malfoy, and Ron and Hermione.
Thoughts of her had increased, certainly, when he started seeing her on a daily basis, but as each day passed, he began to notice things about her that he hadn't before, when they'd been dating. Such as, she was often arrogant, about her abilities in Quidditch and her knowledge of Voldemort. Once he overheard her talking to Ron and Hermione about Voldemort, and she kept cutting them off, ignoring what they were saying, and behaving as though she knew more than they did, because a memory of Voldemort had once overtaken her body. Something she didn't even remember.
Harry had walked in and started arguing with her about it. When she began to lose the argument, she merely walked away in disgust. She could be kind, and nice, but she was also arrogant and a bit selfish. Harry could see now more than ever that she would eventually grow up, but they would have broken up anyway if he'd stayed with her. She was too childish, and that wasn't something he needed.
Harry had wondered often over the summer where Draco Malfoy had gone, and what had happened to him. When Harry had last seen him, Malfoy had been about to come over to the Light Side, but then had been prevented by the appearance of more Death Eaters. Harry rather doubted that Malfoy could hide this disloyalty from Voldemort, even if he had been practicing Occlumency. And now it came out that Malfoy was dead. Murdered.
Harry flopped back onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling, memories rushing through his head. Memories of a young boy, offering his hand in friendship, only to have it refused. Walking through the Forbidden Forest with him. Of dueling the same boy when they were twelve, and didn't know how to duel. Watching him be rude to a hippogriff, only to have his arm sliced open. Harry remembered flitting around on the Quidditch field, pursued by a blond, arrogant player who almost matched him in ability. Being threatened and hated and sneered at by him. And watching that same boy, only a few months before, sobbing into the sink as he became a man, terrified for his life and the life of his family, right before Harry nearly killed him himself. The boy who, when it came right down to it, couldn't bring himself to take the life of another.
Harry shut his eyes, scenes playing behind his lids faster and faster, until they became a blur of memories all resulting from one refused hand of friendship. Tears trickled out of the corners of Harry's eyes, and in his muddled state he recognized the irony of crying for the death of a despised rival. Malfoy had challenged him, and he had challenged Malfoy. He felt a small part of himself die as he realized he would never be so challenged again in a way that was not truly life-threatening.
Harry's hand curled over the locket he constantly kept around his neck, and he made a vow that he would find Draco Malfoy's murderer and see them soundly punished. No one deserved to die as he had.
No one.
Pre HBP
Normal POV
The girl woke up again, feeling a bit stronger. She looked around another time. From what she could see, she was in the middle of a circular room. The space was rather small. It was made up of molding stone, and had one window with no glass. It looked rather like a dungeon tower.
She tried to sit up, but failed miserably. She barely managed to weakly reach into the pocket of her robes. She tried to pull the object to where she could see it, but it fell from her limp fingers and clattered to the floor. Fortunately, it had landed face-up, and she could see the face of the digital watch. 9:15 AM, it said. She then reached down, and pressed a button on the watch. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. When the date flashed before her, her eyes widened. No, she thought miserably. No, it can't be.
But it was. Nearly two months had passed since she had last been awake, and feeling strong. Two months she had been trapped in this dungeon. And she was still incredibly weak, though it seemed she had been well-fed. Well, she thought dryly, getting struck by Avada Kedavra will do that to you. She was actually surprised that she was even alive. When she had saved him from the death eaters, she had taken the killing curse accepting the fact that she was probably going to die. However, considering whom her ancestors were, who her father was, and the fact that she was probably the most magical being on this earth, it wasn't surprising that she was alive. Earth, fire, water, wind, and all the animals on earth wouldn't have stood for it. She figured that they had a lot to do with the fact that she was breathing now. She would have to remember to thank them for it.
She shifted her gaze to her limp hand. It was deathly pale, and her bones stuck out sharply. She felt grateful that there were no mirrors in there. She knew she probably looked like hell, and didn't particularly want to have to actually see it. A chilly voice then spoke.
"Ah," it said. "I see you've finally woken up."
Her head slowly rose up, and she spoke coldly. "I might be awake, but with you here I'm still in a nightmare," she hissed. Her voice cracked, but stayed quiet.
"Now that isn't very nice," it said. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be alive now."
"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have almost died in the first place," she snarled.
The man stood there for a moment, considering her. "You know, I could finish you off now. Get you out of my life permanently. It would be so easy. I wouldn't even have to use Avada Kedavra on you. A simple curse would do it."
She sneered at him. "Do you really think that you could get rid of me that easily?"
The man's eyes narrowed. "You know as well as I that the only thing holding your frail body together is the forces of the world. And it's hard for them."
She laughed, and it was a chilling thing to hear. Her laughter, which used to be full of light and the world, had become dead, and hollow. "I know this. But it was not my body I was speaking of. Though I may be greatly weakened physically, my spirit, and soul, is as strong as ever. Don't even try it, or I promise you that I'll find another body and kill you. And trust me, this time I'll succeed."
The man's eyes widened. "What do you mean? You've never tried to kill me before."
"Haven't I? Do you really think that a one-year old boy could defeat one of the most powerful wizards alive, merely because his mother died for him? No, even Dumbledore knows better than that. That's why he fears me so."
Lord Voldemort sank to his knees before her and grasped her shoulders. "What did you do?" he hissed, shaking her slightly.
"I merely gave Harry extra protection. Did you really think I'd let you kill him? I made sure that no matter what curse you used on him, it would be reflected on to you."
Voldemort released her, shock evident on his face. "How could you have done that?" he asked weakly. "You were but a child. No older than three. Besides, you were with your foster parents in America. Thousands of miles away. Even if you had known what was going to happen, when it was going to happen, and you were intelligent enough to understand it, your magic couldn't have traveled that distance. It's just not possible."
"Isn't it? Remember, I had all the forces of the world on my side. I could have sent my spell through any number of forces. The wind, or the sea, or through the earth, or even through the sun. I am the closest thing to a god this earth has ever seen, though I do not rule over it. It is merely my ally, and it loves me, and I love it. It would never let me die, and I would never let it die. Do you see? Do you see it, you weak, foolish coward?"
Voldemort slapped her hard across the face. It made a cracking sound, and her head jerked backwards, and she coughed blood. But then she did something that froze the blood in Voldemort's veins. She smiled. And it was a truly unnerving sight. She smiled, and blood was on her teeth. She looked like a vampire. Blood dripped out of the corner of her mouth, and she laughed. Flecks of blood touched Voldemort's face, and he backed away, disgusted. "You can't even stand to hear the truth, can you? I knew it. I knew all along what you are. What you were. A shadow of the past, something meant to die, like me. You are dead, Voldemort. You died a long time ago. You are a seventy-year old, frail wizard, who has no real hope of gaining what he wants. You might have, sixteen years ago. But no more. No more."
Voldemort backed away from her. It was rather shocking; the effect this weak, young nineteen-year old could have on someone as powerful as he. He turned and ran out of the room, leaving her cold laughter in his wake.
A/N: Okay, I lied. Fourth revision. Lol. I'm going to drive myself crazy!!!! Anyway, hope you enjoyed the revision, here it is. Review, please, and ten is all I ask for. Lol. Adios!
-CatJetRat