Blue - A Harry Potter AU

Chapter 1

"RAVENCLAW!"

I froze in place. No one cheered. No one clapped. No one dared make a sound. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the Slytherin table, where Draco looked up at me, disgusted and disgraced. Shaking now, I clutched the edge of the chair and pushed myself into a standing position, my legs trembling with fear. McGonagall hesitantly lifted the hat off my head, not sure what to say. She scrambled for her notes and read out the next name. My mouth was slightly open, and I could feel my heartbeat all the way to the tip of my tongue. The muffled sound of the sorting hat placing another plucky young first year into Ravenclaw. Scattered applause. A soft cheer.

I glanced from table to table as the applause settled. The Hufflepuffs, watching in awe as I made my way to the house. The Gryffindors, whispering and giggling to each other, probably talking about what consequences I'll face later. The Ravenclaws - my new family - blinking hard and gulping, hiding the fact they probably didn't want someone like me in their house. Some masked this by congratulating and welcoming the other Ravenclaw - a small, cheery young man with a womanly voice and light green hair - but, of course, not myself. The Slytherins. Oh, the Slytherins. They looked at me as though I was the scum of the Earth, whereas if I were in their house I would be their treasure, their princess, their family. I sat timidly on the miniscule space they'd left for me. The guy next to me shuffled as far away from me as he could possibly get. Despite feeling relieved at the extra space he was unknowingly giving up for me on this splintery bench, I couldn't help but feel my self esteem plummet.

I wasn't wanted here.

I watched as a third kid got into Ravenclaw. Some guy called Sagittarius. He pumped his fist in the air, embracing the small boy sat near me as he bounced past him. I traced my fingernail against the wood on the table in front of me. If I can't make my metaphorical mark on the school, I'll make a physical one. The wood pulling loose under my nail pierced the tender skin hidden by my nail, making it sting sharply. Before I could finish tracing with my nail, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned slowly and gasped as Draco grabbed my shoulder. I blinked hard, mumbling some sort of quiet, timid greeting. People murmured behind me, but were soon distracted by a person being sorted into Gryffindor. Draco just stared at me, his eyes glinting sadistically. I could barely make out his voice above the noise of the hall.

"You just wait until our father hears about this."

I kept my posture upright and tall, my hand firmly fixed to the tray in my hand. Back straight. Chin up. Limbs rigid. Four years since my sorting, and I was still being treated like a prisoner. Like a captive. Like a slave. I remembered the pride in my mother's eyes when I promised them I'd get into Slytherin. A good child. Just like Draco. Another carbon copy of the perfect Malfoy. I also remember the anger in my father's eyes when I told him I got into Ravenclaw. A traitor. Just like Sirius. Another failed attempt destined to be cast out for someone better and more useful.

That's all I am. Replaceable.

Blinking back the new tears forming in my eyes, I took a deep breath and stepped into the room. I tried to keep my head up and eyes high to avoid eye contact with the Death Eaters. I could feel their murderous, carnivorous eyes piercing into me, just like their daggers would if I dared step out of line. "Ah, don't mind her," Lucius dismissed as the Death Eaters continued to murder me with their glares. "It's just our servant, Aquila." He held his cup up and shook it slightly, silently asking for a refill of whatever horrendous liquid he was drinking. Too scared to say a word, I strutted over to him, catching my foot slightly on something. Back straight. Chin up. Limbs rigid. I took the jug from my tray as I reached him, pouring the red liquid into his cup and triggering the curiosity inside me to wonder if he was so carnivorous as to drink blood. I turned, silently dismissing the notion in my head. Four more people raise their cups, and I try to recall names in my head. Peter Pettigrew, Bellatrix Lestrange, and two younger Death Eaters I had never seen before. One was a young, scrawny boy with mousy brown hair. He looked timid but stubborn, a small red scar peering out from under his collar. The other was a fierce looking woman with a very narrow face and muscular arms. She had deadly straight black hair which reached the small of her back, even in a ponytail. She wore black eyeliner that extended so long it nearly reached her temples, but instead of making her look stupid it made her look intimidating.

I hurried to their disposal, filling the boy's cup first. As I passed by, I felt Draco's eyes settle on me. Draco. My brother. I shivered softly as I thought about the years we spent together as brother and sister, oblivious to the evil in the world and forever happy. I looked down. The boy's cup was full. Turn around, I thought to myself. For a moment, as I turned away, I thought I heard a soft 'thanks'. I desperately wanted to nod, smile, thank him - to do anything, but I knew I'd soon feel a blade in my throat. I then filled the girl's cup, and I began to notice her acrylic fake nails, matte black and as long and sharp as a small pocket knife. I shivered slightly as I passed her, and turned towards Bellatrix. Here she was. I'd heard terrifying things about Madame Lestrange. She was cold, and ruthless, and sadistic. But then again, I thought to myself, there isn't a Death Eater alive or dead who isn't one of those things. I lifted the now half-full jug to Madame Lestrange, who grinned wickedly in response. Before I could tilt the jug, I felt the sharp shooting pain of a heel in my foot, causing me to yelp and jolt in shock. My hand faltered on the handle of the jug and I was soon glaring at the red liquid piling on her lap. Madame Lestrange let out a shrill shriek, and Lucius stood up with quite some speed.

"Aquila!" He barked. I wanted to protest in response, but I had to stay silent for fear of further torture. I saw the glint of a steak knife out of the corner of my eye and, before I even had time to look, my left arm was against the table, the tip of the blade pressed against my forearm. "Who taught you those terrible manners, girl?" The previously repressed tears began clouding my vision once more. My arm was already throbbing despite no contact being made yet. I opened my mouth to answer her, but my father's voice boomed out above mine. "It was not my fault, Bellatrix, I implore you. This is simply her pathetic Ravenclaw instinct." My breath was hitching in my throat. His words echoed around the room, emphasising his disdain for me. Bellatrix turned back to me, and I glued my eyes onto my arm.

"What's your name, girl?" Her words sliced into me like the steak knife. I began to stutter and croak. I finally managed to say, "Aquila Malfoy, madam..." A throbbing pain crept into my left cheek. Madame Bellatrix had very obviously struck me. "Liar!" She screeched. "You do not deserve that name! You're a liar!" Her face crept so close that I could smell alcohol on her breath. Alcohol and...something metallic.

Blood. I knew the drink was blood. Or was it the steak...?

Now was not the time to ponder this. She grinned at me deviously. "Do you know how we punish liars?" More pressure began to be applied to my arm. More and more, until a horrible ache travelled up my forearm. A scream echoed around the hall, and I soon realised it was mine. I called out to Draco, in the naive state of mind that he would help me. Lucius quickly shut me down. "I don't believe I gave you permission to speak, Aquila." He growled. As I turned to him, I suppressed my screams, causing him to contentedly sit back down. I now realised that I was panting. I looked around at the unsurprised, emotionless face glaring at me. The only faces that didn't fit the emotionless, sociopathic pattern were the young boy and Draco, who both looked at me with vague concern.

I felt blood rolling along my arm, forming a small river down to my wrist. Looking down at my arm, I realised she was writing a word. 'T'. I wanted to collapse at the sight of my own blood and the unbearable feeling of a serrated knife on my bare flesh, but any small movement and the knife is in my chest, or neck, or head. I can't risk it. 'R'. Draco won't listen, I thought, so I need to convince the only other sane person. As I felt tears trickling all the way to my neck, and as my arm grew painfully numb, I sobbed as I looked at the new boy. "Please," I muttered. He simply blinked at me, his only mildly concerned expression never changing. "Help me...p-please..." Lucius slammed his fist on the table so hard I felt it in my toes. I sobbed louder as Lucius began to yell at me about not speaking. I whined every time I exhaled. I'm just their sadistic form of entertainment. I'm not a person. I'm an entertainment source.

I tried to regulate my breathing. Chin up. I looked down once more at the open wound on my arm. 'TRA', and she was currently working on what looked like an I or perhaps an L. After a deep, pained sigh, I raised my head and fixed my eyes to the ceiling. Back straight. I straightened my posture, trying to look tall and professional, despite losing a dangerous amount of blood. Limbs rigid. Gluing my free arm to my side and forming a fist, I dug my nails into my palm as a kind of reassurance mechanism. My toes curled into the floor, the soles of my shoes nearly ripping under the pressure.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Madame Bellatrix's grip on my arm subsided. I felt my legs refuse to hold my weight, and soon felt the cold floor supporting my back. Bellatrix kicked my hard in the stomach, my muscles tensing and chest forcing air out of me. My father cleared his throat as I lay shaking on the floor.

"Meeting adjourned."

Opening my eyes, I watched everyone filing out of the hall. I lay still as Bellatrix stepped over me like I was just a stain on the carpet. As the door finally clicked closed, I coughed. Phlegm moved in my throat, and I coughed again at the discomfort. I took a timid glance at my arm. I felt my heart rate quicken at the sight of it.

'Traitor.'

Sobbing softly, I slammed my door shut, making my owl jump in his cage. He let out an irritated squawk in reply. "Alastor," I mumbled, flicking the cage door open. The pristine white of Alastor's feathers made him glint in the sinking light of the sunset. He hopped out of the cage and looked down at my throbbing arm. He hooted softly, his head tilting to the right as he studied the grotesque wound. He slowly traced one of his wings over it, leaving a small patch of blood on the end.

"It was Bellatrix," I muttered. "I-I messed up. I should've been a better servant..." A small warping sound whistled through the room, and the next time I looked up at Alastor, he had turned into his human form. His true form. Alastor Chamber - one of the only people on my side. His unblemished skin was tight over the bones on his face, making his jaw line and cheekbones stick out. His fluorescent white hair was stuck in a fauxhawk-type style, and the pristine white button-up he wore had my blood smeared up one arm. He smirked sympathetically at me, resting one hand on my shoulder.

"You did what you could. The scar may last, but the bravery you showed will, too." I smiled softly, finding comfort in his warm touch and sultry voice. He wiped my tears from my cheekbones using the black pocket handkerchief that peered out of his shirt pocket. I nodded softly to Alastor, silently thanking him. He reached into a small drawer next to my bed and pulled out a small roll of bandages. Stretching them out, he wrapped it slowly and gnetly around the wound on my arm. It stung slightly, but felt tons better than the torture I'd experienced mere minutes ago. Once he'd finished, he tied a small knot and grinned softly to me. "There," he muttered. "All fixed. I think you should try to sleep that off." Although I didn't agree with him, I knew deep down that he was right. I smiled and nodded, my head and arm throbbing in synchronisation. I slowly crept under my sheets, not caring about my outfit or how it could be ruined if I slept in it.

As I slipped my eyes closed and began to drift off by listening to the sound of my own heartbeat, I could have sworn I heard Alastor typing softly, followed by a soft scoff. And - although I must've been sleep-deprived and hallucinating due to blood loss - I swear I heard him say, "Filthy traitor..."