RIP Astra Greenleaf—you will live in my heart forever.

Dear Reviewer,

I have returned to fanfiction after a hectic year of work, theatre, graduation for high school, and college preparation. Shadows of Light is not the prequel to this work of fiction after reading the 6th book; I doubt there will be a sequel for that particular fic. The name and semi-content of this prologue is based on a classic movie for those of you who recognize it. This fan fiction is my own personal blend of obsessions; see if you can guess them all. If you enjoy dark secrets, hidden identities, turbulent passion, and detrimental love, please read on...

With all due respect,

Ardent Entity

Disclaimer: If I said I owned this, would you believe me? If so, than Joanne Kathleen Rowling is just an 18 year old girl who loves Phantom of the Opera and writes fanfictions based on my work. Moron.

Summary: "Complexo Vestri Fortuna" One look into the mysterious glassy surface and he was led to a place so evil it was regurgitated from the pits of hell to find a destiny so terrible it was masked even from himself. One look at the cursed black castle and she was forced to face a man so dangerous that his only redemption was obliteration. Is his only salvation from his own terrible fate the one person out to destroy him?

If Looks Could Kill

Prologue: The Lonely Grave of Draco Malfoy

Silence: ringing, earsplitting, unbelievably loud silence reverberated in Draco Malfoy's ears. All he could do was stare at the blank walls in the horrible, clattering quiet that filled his thoughts. He had never paid much attention to the walls. He realized the silver blocks constructing them that had at one time seemed elegant and tasteful were actually cold and impersonal. The deep green trim lacing the bottom was suddenly too harsh and all at once the room Draco had occupied all of his life was stark and cruel.

His life had always been dark, a fact he was made increasingly aware of every moment he sat in this thunderous silence. He could feel it, closing in on him, humming loudly in his ears, filling him with nothingness. He was nothingness; he was surrounded by it. The manor was gravely still, not even Draco stirred, but sat in his own reverence, unable to break the disquieting spell of the silence.

He could feel a slight throb above his eyebrow: the formation of a headache. He closed his eyes hoping to blink away the pain. A figure appeared in his mind's eye, a young girl with a worried expression on her captivating face. His heart thudded almost painfully in his chest. His eyes shot open expecting to see her standing there or running towards him; he saw nothing but the cold stone walls around him. His head began to pound. He did not shut his eyes for a second time in fear of seeing her again. He never wanted to see her again despite his treacherous emotions.

A small handheld mirror with a silver frame glinted on his mahogany bedside table. Engraved into the handle was a delicate inscription that read Complexo Vestri Fortuna. For a few seconds Draco glared at it without realizing what he was seeing, then he remembered. Had it not been for that dreadful mirror Draco would not be suspended in this unyielding purgatory, afraid and alone but alongside his parents, strong and thriving.

Involuntarily, he closed his eyes and her face appeared just as it had so long ago…

The castle was cloaked in darkness and it was well after hours. Draco had been too lost in his dark thoughts to notice the time. He prowled the corridors; his only light was the moonlight streaming in through the high windows. His left forearm throbbed slightly.

He had grown too used to his pain, too used to the gnawing panic, too used to the fact that his father couldn't buy him out of this trouble. He knew what he was supposed to be doing. The Room of Requirement was on the seventh floor and Draco was on the ground floor just past the Great Hall.

Questions raced through his head; questions he infuriatingly did not know the answers to. What would he do if he failed? The Dark Lord would kill his family, but what of him? The Dark Lord would not be cruel enough to keep him alive, for Draco was nothing but the prestige of his name that his father had managed to uphold. What was to become of Draco Malfoy?

A shift in movement at the end of the corridor brought Draco back from his furious reverie. He spun around. Loud footsteps were echoing from the stairwell leading to the dungeons, a small light was growing as whoever was ascending the stairs drew closer to the landing. One thought penetrated Draco's mind: hide. He glanced around frantically, his eyes resting on a tall, imposing door across from the Great Hall. The door led to an empty classroom. There was the loud sound of a cough very close to the landing where Draco stood frozen.

Making up his mind, he grabbed the polished, glossy handle of the door and pulled it open. Quickly, he closed the door behind him cloaking the room in complete darkness. The footsteps grew in volume, there was muttering. After a few seconds, Draco could hear the sounds of someone climbing the main staircase and the muttering softened until the sounds completely vanished. Letting out a deep breath, Draco opened the door allowing the moonlight from the Great Hall permeate the room.

Had he not known better, he would have been sure that he had stepped into the cool night rather than a mysterious classroom inside Hogwarts. The walls and ceiling, if there were any, were a dark, midnight blue dotted with sparkling stars. Trees formed in a semicircle around the middle of the room making it look like some sort of clearing. Draco remembered now that this was the classroom Dumbledore had bewitched for the centaur Firenze to teach in; still he could not help feeling as if the horizon were just beyond his grasp.

A small black table was just visible by the moonlight streaming in from the open door; a glint of silver on the table caught Draco's eye. Mesmerized, he walked up to it ascertaining that it was a mirror. On the back of the handle, there was a small inscription Draco could not read in the darkness. "Lumos," he muttered holding his wand up to the message.

"Complexo Vestri Fortuna" he read aloud. For a moment, he wondered what that meant before a sudden blinding light filled the room. Draco shielded his eyes, but as quickly as it had come the light was gone cloaking the room in an almost pitch blackness, except for the mirror. Draco stared at the inscription burning in radiance. Deliberately, the words Complexo Vestri Fortuna began to fade into the finishing on the handle. Realizing that saying the inscription aloud must have ignited an incantation, Draco slowly turned the mirror over to look into its reflective surface.

Fire lit up the glass where Draco's reflection should have been. Through the flames, he could make out the ashy remains of a mansion, his mansion. Draco's heart leapt into his throat as he watched the house his family had occupied for centuries burn. Slowly, the flames died to reveal a black, strangely-shaped piece of cloth spinning towards him. As it drew closer, Draco could see it was a mask. Suddenly and quite inexplicably the black mask shattered as if made of glass. Past the shreds of black a young woman could be seen. She was running towards something as if her life depended on it. She had dark, bushy curls, a pale complexion, and deep brown eyes. Draco glared at her face; a face he knew only too well. He was staring at the image of Hermione Granger. Draco's heart beat furiously against his rib cage wondering why this reflection of Granger had such an affect on him. Draco stared at the mirror realizing, though he had somehow known, that this mirror had shown him his fate. He hadn't realized he was loosing his grip until the mirror fell to the floor with an ear-splitting clang!

A soft sound by the open door alerted Draco to another presence in the room. He had lingered too long. From where he stood, Draco could see the swish of a dust-colored tail running out the door. The room was blindingly dark. There was a good chance he had been heard but not seen, however Draco wasn't willing to risk it.

He rushed to the door. Draco caught a glimpse of Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, racing down the corridor to call her master to the rule-breaking student. He turned in the opposite direction of Mrs. Norris and ran. Luckily for Draco, the Slytherin common room was very easy to find. He heard a sound behind him and he quickened his pace. Before him, he could see the staircase to the dungeons. A loud voice called out, but he did not turn around. He reached the staircase and bolted down at breakneck speed. He did not stop until he reached the dungeons and slammed the stairwell door shut.

It was quiet here. The loudest sound was the furious beating of his heart. Slowly, he crept along the hall, tiptoeing over the echoing stone floor. Past the Potions room, past Snape's private office, past a commanding portrait of a severe looking witch, until finally he reached a bare strip of stone wall lit up by two flaming torches. "Basilisk!" he panted. The wall opened slowly admitting him to the saving grace of the Slytherin dormitories.

He tried to remember what he had seen in the mirror, but the vision was fading from his memory as if it were nothing more than a vague dream. He didn't remember falling asleep that night, but he must have because he awoke with a start on the, hard, cold, black leather sofa in the Slytherin Common Room, his head reeling.

It was a dream. Draco must have fallen asleep watching the fire and musing about his situation. It was nothing more than a very strange dream. He shook his head trying to extricate the deep feeling of betrayal that had settled in the pit his stomach. He trudged down the staircase that led to the boys' dormitories intending to change into clean school robes and freshen up before breakfast.

The dormitory was empty. Breakfast must have started. He yawned pulling out his black robes and green and silver tie from his trunk. A gleam of something glossy on his bedside table caught his eye. He closed his eyes hoping he was imagining things, not wanting to see what was there.

"It was a dream," he whispered, not believing the sound of his own voice.

It was there whether his eyes were open to it or not. His clothes lay forgotten on the floor, he hadn't remembered dropping them. He was staring at it, shimmering in the dull candlelight; mocking him, haunting him. Mesmerized, he walked up to it ascertaining that it was the mirror. He placed a cold finger on the elegant handle and he remembered everything.

It was there now; still mocking, still haunting. It was his only companion. He was alone. Draco did not know how long he sat in his room; days, weeks. Outside the world was alive with terror and grief. Draco felt a pang of horror as he thought of what had happened to his parents. Because of him, they were dead or worse. The house was silent, had been silent ever since he had Apparated there.

He remembered that fateful night as if he was still living it. Atop the Astronomy tower, Dumbledore was there, alive but weak, almost asking for death. He hadn't been able to do it; Dumbledore had known that he, Draco, did not have the power to kill him. Draco felt the shadow of a sneer. Dumbledore had believed that it was Draco's strength of character that stayed his wand. It was not Draco's strength but his weakness that made him stall, that stopped him from killing Dumbledore. It was her face in his mind's eye. Her face, alarming and beautiful kept him in isolation, strengthened his resolve to go through with his mission, yet had stopped his wand at the last crucial moment. He could not bear the look on her face if he did it.

Then the spell was broken by Snape in a blur of green. Draco remembered little afterwards. He was running, running across the grounds, running to Hogsmeade, Snape behind him, Harry Potter was there at some point but Draco had not paid attention. He could not follow his old professor. When the time came to Disapparate to his doom, Draco chose to go to the only place he knew no one would find him easily: the Malfoy Manor which was unplottable.

It was only a matter of time before they found him. Snape had been in Draco's home before and would guess that Draco was hiding there. It was evident that Draco could never go back to Hogwarts. He looked over at the mirror again.

He felt a stab of anger. Because of that mirror; he could not find the strength to do what was necessary. It was because he had seen the face of Hermione Granger and realized that underneath all his hostility towards her, he didn't care about her tainted blood, he didn't mind her bushy hair or self-righteousness. He had feelings for her. He was a traitor, a traitor to the Dark Lord, a traitor to his parents, and a traitor to himself. It was because of her that he couldn't kill Dumbledore, because of her!

It was the spell of the mirror that had captivated him, that had put her in his head, nothing more. It was the mirror. With a thrill of horror, Draco realized that the mirror was probably set there by Dumbledore. That was why Dumbledore knew Draco couldn't kill him, because he had set this trap for him, knowing that it would weaken him! Draco grabbed the mirror and without looking into its surface flung it at the stone of his bedroom wall.

He heard the satisfying shatter of the glass as it hit the stone. He looked at the pieces of the mirror. There was something black lying underneath the shattered remnants. Confused, Draco picked it up, the material felt warm and silky against his cold hands. It was a black mask, the black mask he had seen in the mirror so long ago; he stared at it unsure of its purpose. There was a crash below. The time had come. Someone was here for him; someone had found him.

Draco grabbed his black traveling cloak and swung it over his shoulders. It was time to leave this house forever. He grabbed a large black book from his shelf and opened it to the middle. He pointed his wand at the blank pages. "Show me where to go," he muttered his eyes shut. The book was warm under his hands. There was the sound of a male voice yelling. Draco looked at the book. There was a dark castle that looked deserted; above it he could read the caption the Black Fortress of Malvagio.

Someone was running up the staircase, their footsteps echoing on the marble. Absently, Draco put the mask on his face, unaware of what he was doing. The edges of the mirror began to smoke. Flames grew from the shards of the glass as if the mirror were fulfilling its own prophecy. Someone was on the other side of Draco's locked door trying to get in. The fire was growing, licking the carpet, creeping, silently up the walls.

"Take me there," Draco mumbled, Apparating with a loud crack. His bedroom door flung open to reveal a hooded figure on the other side. The triumphant gleam in the Death Eater's evil eyes vanished as he looked upon the inferno in Draco's room. He let out a scream, but Draco Malfoy was no more.

I know it dragged a bit and was kind of boring but let me know if you liked it. I definitely can't wait to write more and bring in more characters. The real story starts in the next chapter, till then review!

Ardent