Life with Nadine was quite interesting, to say the least.
The moment they got in Draco's apartment, Draco and Harry discovered a large box of clothing, toys and other accessories, addressed to Nadine. There was no return address on the box. When Nadine saw the clothing, she just giggled, as if she knew who the gift-giver was, but had no intention of revealing the identity of the person.
Another thing about Nadine was her personality. She was very quiet, never complained about anything, and seemed to have this saintly air about her that held her above the rest of the world, but Nadine never said anything about this silent haughtiness of hers. Her favorite spot in the apartment was the kitchen countertop, where she could perch and survey the antics of the room at large.
About three days after they had returned from the wizarding world, Harry got up to get something to eat. As he walked towards the refrigerator, Nadine motioned him over.
"Milk, please," she whispered in his ear. Harry nodded, and opened the fridge, feeling the man-made coolness wash over his skin.
"Don't mind the pickles," Nadine said sagely. "They're old anyway."
Harry was rummaging through the contents of the fridge, and therefore wasn't really listening. "Mmmm," he said in an agreeing tone. Nadine, who knew that he wasn't hearing her, just sat quaintly and watched.
As Harry pushed aside a can of olives, his elbow scraped a jar of pickles accidentally. The glass jar toppled to the ground and shattered. Pickle juice went everywhere in a shower of green, along with the thick smell of mold. Harry looked at the mess on the floor and gaped at Nadine.
"The broom is in the closet!" Draco shouted from his duct-taped chair. He had made it clear that whatever mess Harry made, he wasn't cleaning it up.
"How did you know that I was going to knock over the jar of pickles?" Harry demanded. Nadine just hopped off the counter, her yellow sundress billowing behind her.
"Would you have knocked them over if I said anything?" Nadine countered, looking up at Harry with large, innocent blue eyes. Harry didn't say anything. Nadine tottered over to the closet and brought Harry the broom.
Three nights later, Draco chanced to wake up. Rolling over drowsily, he was quite startled to find that something was glowing over the chair where Nadine slept. Reflex made him bolt upright in bed. Harry snored, muffling the sound of creaking bedsprings.
"Christine!" Nadine said sharply, sharper than Draco had ever heard her talk. "You can't keep on coming here every night! They're bound to wake up sooner or later."
The glow on the ceiling gave something of a patient sigh, and morphed slightly. "Do you not like seeing me, Sister? Would you rather I stayed away?"
Nadine sighed, shaking her head so the brown pigtails that she slept in wobbled. "Don't be silly. I love seeing you, but it's not safe."
White power on the walls came forward and drew together in the form of a little girl that looked exactly like Nadine. The figure looked dimly familiar to Draco, but he couldn't think properly to remember names.
"If you'd hurry up and act already, I could go to my rest. Haven't you Seen it yet?"
Nadine sighed unhappily. "Yes, I've Seen."
"Then why haven't you acted yet?" asked the ghost, overly patient.
"Do you actually think that I can get them to listen to me? I'm not a ghost, like yourself, and I'm four years old!" The pigtails started to shake in indignation again.
She sure has a wide vocabulary for a four-year-old, Draco thought absently.
"It has been foretold," the ghost snapped. "Stop acting ridiculous, Nadine!"
"I don't see how...." It was here that Nadine turned around and noticed Draco sitting up in bed, looking at the pair quizzically. She sighed in disdain. "I told you that somebody would notice, Chris."
The ghost looked up at Draco and snorted, as if this was just a mere setback. "That can be fixed."
Before Draco could react to anything, the ghost-girl - Christine? - caught and held his eyes in her own chalky white ones. Draco felt himself becoming lightheaded and sleepy. The world started blotting out in shades of black, white and gray. He fell back on his pillow, somewhere between unconsciousness and sleep. He would remember nothing the next morning.
# # #
The next morning commenced the same as the ones before it. Nadine seated herself on the countertop, regarding everything with her sharp eyes, while Draco and Harry milled about, making breakfast. There was silence, besides the scrape of spoons on bowls, and the rustle of Draco's newspaper. Nadine cleared her throat softly, and both men looked up at her.
"So," she whispered slyly, "when are we going back to save Mummy?"
Draco suddenly loosened his grip on the newspaper, and the sports section fell out and scattered all over the floor. Harry snorted and a lovely display of milk running out of his nose commenced.
"Err, Nadine, I don't think ever," Draco said shakily, bending over to pick up his fallen newspaper.
"Why not?" asked Nadine, wonderingly.
"Let's see," Harry said distantly, ticking things off of his fingers as he spoke, "Two wizard refugees and a four-year-old girl verses an army of Dark wizards. I don't think that that would work."
"That's why you start a slave revolt," Nadine said, slowly pulling the words out of her mouth, as if addressing someone smaller than herself. Draco put down his newspaper, and looked at Nadine oddly.
"How in the name of God do you know all of this stuff?!" he demanded. "When I was four, I didn't know what a slave was, and I had no clue what a revolt had to do with anything!"
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I've met smart people in my time, but I don't even think that Hermione was this smart at your age, and that's saying something."
Nadine's ears turned slightly pink with the praise and the embarrassment it was giving her. Looking down at the floor, she knotted her fingers together behind her back.
"There's something that I haven't told you yet..."
"Obviously," Draco drawled snidely.
"Mummy told me of a prophecy made the day before I was born.... it was about twin girls. One was going to die at a young age.... and the other was going to be.... an Oracle," she whispered, so softly that it was barely audible. She suddenly found great interest in studying her palms.
Harry and Draco looked from each other, to Nadine and back to each other again. "An Oracle?!" Harry nearly yelled. "You're an Oracle?! There haven't been any Oracles for.... for centuries!"
Draco, however, was more interested in the previous part. "A twin? Twin girls? You don't have a twin.... do you?"
"I don't now. I did. Her name was Christine. She died about three years ago."
"How?" Harry asked, slightly irked that Hermione didn't bother to tell him that her daughter was an Oracle.
"I think I can take it from here, Nadine," a breath of a voice said from behind everybody. Harry's stomach turned to ice for a moment, before whirling around to face a girl that looked nearly exactly like Nadine, save that she was icily white, and her nose was set at a different tilt.
"Forever Fate?!" Draco asked, what little color he had in his face drained. He turned to Nadine. "You're related to Forever Fate?!"
Nadine's little eyebrows snapped together with a nearly audible click when she turned to face the ghost, who was now giggling. "Christine...."
"Oh, I couldn't resist. It was too easy," she snickered, looking over at Draco.
"What's going on?" asked Harry, who was completely lost in this train of conversation.
"Remember the day I fell down into that pit?" asked Draco, his eyes never leaving the ghost, who was floating in the air mockingly. "The reason why I fell was because I heard someone laughing. It was her."
"She was always making up mystic names for herself," Nadine said, rolling her eyes. "Forever Fate was her favorite. She refused to answer to anything else for a month."
Draco's jaw dropped and he whirled around to face 'Forever Fate'. "If you were in the living," he gasped in fury; "I would beat you." Christine made puppy eyes and batted her eyelashes at him playfully.
"Would you really?" she simpered sweetly.
"Chris, just get on with it," Nadine ordered.
"She was always the down-to-earth one, if you didn't already notice," Christine muttered, looking over at her sister grudgingly. "Anyway, we weren't supposed to be born at all. Since he already had a daughter, Father said that..."
"Who's your father?" Harry asked. "Hermione said that she didn't want to tell us." The ghost looked slightly miffed at being interrupted, but then she sighed.
"Roger Parkinson," she explained with too much patience. At everybody's disgusted at shocked looks, she shook her head. "If you must know the details," she spat tartly, "it was rape."
"No wonder Granger didn't want to talk about it," Draco said thoughtfully. "It's not exactly something to be proud of."
"As I was saying," the ghost went on impatiently, "Father said that unless we were boys that could carry on the family line, we were to be exterminated. As you can tell, we are female, so we were to be killed."
Draco and Harry shot sidelong glances at each other and Nadine, who was looking out the window distantly.
"Mummy heard about this, and tried to hide us. She succeeded with Nadine, but the birth records of myself were found a year after I - we, were born. So, I was killed. As far as the Dark wizards know, Nadine Parkinson doesn't exist."
"How do you know all of this?" asked Harry, drumming his fingers on the table. "You were only one year old when all of this happened."
"I didn't know when I was a mere human," Christine said haughtily. "When you become a ghost, you know everything."
"Glad to see you're so modest," Draco muttered under his breath.
Christine smiled, showing misty white teeth. "You should be."
"So," Harry said, cutting in. "What do you want from us?"
"We want you to help us," Nadine said in her very mature, steady voice. "We need you to rouse the wizarding population. Do you think that a group of adults is going to listen to a four-year-old and a ghost that's been dead for three years?"
Harry's jaw dropped slightly. There is no way in hell this girl's only four, he thought raggedly. No way. She's so... adult.
"What do you want us to do?" asked Draco wearily. Nadine yelped with happiness, the way a normal four-year-old would. Running up to Draco, she threw her arms around her waist and buried her head in his hip.
"I knew that you would help!" she squealed.
Christine smiled her own smile, and addressed Harry. "Meet me and the others in the wizarding world, in that cave that I made, tomorrow at six at night," she ordered. "I'll take care of everything else." With that, she swirled into nothingness, and was gone.
"What have we gotten ourselves into this time?" asked Draco, trying to peel Nadine off him. Harry just shook his head and shrugged. He had no idea.
# # #
Draco led the way to the wizarding world the next day, with Harry and Nadine in tow. This time they didn't have to dye their hair or use body paint to hide themselves, because Christine distinctly told them not to wear disguises.
The sun was setting, sending ominous streaks of scarlet across a purple, velvet appearing sky.
London seemed eerily silent, for London. The birds were quiet, the traffic was sparse, and there was hardly another soul out on the road. Speaking seemed a crime, so nobody did.
Emotions tangled within each other in the pit of Draco's stomach. One minute he felt sick to his stomach, and the next he was excited and enthralled. They were going to start a revolt. This was probably going to be a highlight of the week.
When they made it to the Leaky Cauldron, or rather, what remained of it, Harry rapped on the brick, and the archway opened.
In the wizarding world, the simulator wasn't on. Draco wondered why, but then saw that it had melted on the ground.
"Christine?" asked Harry, looking down at Nadine. Nadine nodded quietly.
Instead of having to scale the bluff, there was something of a makeshift bridge over the bottomless pit. That meant that a tree had fallen over, and they shuffled carefully over it, to the platform with the cave entrance.
When they entered the cavern opening, Draco and Harry nearly fell over. Instead of the long, snaky passageway it had been before, it was now a large, echoing chamber, and it was filled with confused people.
When the people noticed the two cloaked figures and the little girl standing there, all was silent.
"Are you the two hooligans that hypnotized us?!" a man asked irately. Several other voices chimed in.
"I have no time for this!"
"The Lord is going to skin us all!"
"Who are you, anyhow?"
At the last remark, Harry took center stage. Doing what he does best, Draco thought hotly.
Harry removed his hat and sunglasses, and the crowd fell silent again. Scanning the room with eyes that glinted like green ice, he spoke.
"I am Harry Potter," he said quietly, although there was no need to announce that fact, as the crowd knew already. His whisper bounced off the walls to echo a thousand times, and to enter a thousand ears.
"What are you doing here?" asked a female voice.
"To start a revolt."
"Are you coming to save us?" inquired a hopeful-sounding voice.
Draco walked up next to Harry. "No," he said gruffly. "You're going to save yourselves."
"Who are you?" asked a voice that Draco recognized as Penelope Clearwater. Draco sighed and removed his own hat and sunglasses.
There was silence so thick that you could slice it with a knife. Draco winced, feeling eyes regarding him with a mixture of dislike and curiosity.
"He's not with his father," Harry assured the crowd. "Honestly, he isn't. He's here to help us."
Some muttering ran through the crowd, along with some grumbling, but there were no cries for his head, so Draco thought that he was standing on semi-firm ground - at the moment.
"I'm not much of a motivational speaker, Potter," Draco said out of the side of his mouth. "Besides, I think that they'd listen to you better."
"Thanks a lot," Harry snapped. Draco grinned toothily.
The crowd had fallen silent again, and Harry scanned everybody's solemn faces. He bit his lip. What am I supposed to say to these people? he asked himself.
"As of right now," he said uncertainly, "you are no longer servants or slaves to the Dark Lord." People's ears perked up, and Harry gained courage, and began speaking louder.
"You are members of... of...Trav!" he bellowed, making this up as he went. "The Resistance Against Voldemort!" Chest heaving, he pointed to various people in the crowd, and kept on yelling.
"You have suffered long enough in the shadows of Darkness! Let us end this Dark period, if not for yourself, then for your children, and their children, and the children after that! We will not cower under Voldemort forever! Who is with me?"
It was a small murmur at once. It grew louder, and louder, and louder, until finally the entire group was beating their fists, stomping their feet, and screaming at the top of their lungs, "TRAV! TRAV! TRAV!"
Harry lowered his own fist, and stared out at the raving mass of people. "Did I do that?" he whispered to himself.
Draco snorted with a bit of laughter, and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Well done, Potter."
# # #
Meanwhile, all of the Dark wizards had gathered in Hogwarts's Great Hall (now a very large conference hall) to discuss the recent relevation that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were still alive.
"He's your son, Malfoy," Macnair barked at Mr. Malfoy. "Why the hell did you let him run away?!"
Mr. Malfoy stood up so suddenly that he knocked his chair over. The wood skidded across the tile floor, scraping and making quite a racket. "Macnair, I swear, shut your mouth or I'm going to have your tongue cut out," he hissed angrily.
Macnair opened his mouth to protest, but then decided against it, as Mr. Malfoy probably could have that done to his tongue if he wished.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," came a smooth voice from the head of the table. Macnair sat down resentfully, and Mr. Malfoy picked up his chair and righted it.
The voice belonged to a male, looking about forty, with black hair and even darker eyes. His body glowed green; showing that it was prosthetic.
"I'm sure all we have to do is wait, and Harry Potter-"--his face grew hungry--"-and Mr. Malfoy will return if we give them all enough time..."
"Sire! Sire!" a runner yelled, sprinting in, and nearly collapsing on the floor.
"What is it, Boy?" asked Voldemort. The boy cowered, refusing to look the Dark Lord in the eyes.
"They're gone!" he panted. Voldemort looked at him, eyebrows arched.
"Who is gone?" he inquired severely.
"Everybody!" the youth cried. "All of the other wizards and witches!"
Voldemort shoved away from the table quickly, and leapt to his feet, wincing because he wasn't quite used to having legs yet.
"How recent was this discovery made?" he asked in a dangerous, low voice.
"Seven-thirty," the boy said meekly. "We - or at least I - don't know how long they've been gone."
Voldemort dug his fingers into the table, drawing up splinters in stony silence. "I want search parties," he snapped abruptly. "I don't care what you do, but I want this entire area combed. Leave no rock unturned!" Voldemort turned to the boy. "Are the professors still here?"
"Yes, Sire," the runner answered promptly. "They are still in the dungeons."
"Be off with you," Voldemort ordered. The runner left, possibly faster than he came into the room. The occupants of the High Table stared at him, until he glared down at them all.
"What are you waiting for?" Voldemort demanded, staring at his subjects. "Get out there and search!" They obeyed.
# # #
Harry had done a very good job at rousing the crowd. They were ready for tomorrow, and heading back to their homes to look for weapons. Christine floated down, startling many of the wizards.
"I wouldn't recommend going back to you homes," she advised. "Lord Voldemort knows that you have gone, and has the entire population of Dark Wizards looking for you."
There was an alarmed sweep of noise that went through the crowd when they heard that relevation. How were they going to create a revolt without any weapons to fight with?
"Excuse me," Nadine said softly, sitting in her mother's lap. Everybody, oddly, was quiet for the little girl to speak.
Nadine rose to her feet, and spread her hands. "I have an idea." People chuckled. Nadine glared at them. "Even Dark wizards have to sleep. Why don't you send out a small party to gather weapons late tonight?"
There was another murmur, but this time a murmur of agreement. This small girl had a head on her shoulders.
"But won't they have sentries?" asked Lavender Brown, doubtfully. Christina floated down.
"I can take care of that," she whispered silkily. "I was able to hypnotize you into coming here. I will be able to put small amounts of sentries to sleep."
"Wait a minute," Seamus Finnigan said, rubbing his chin. "Couldn't you just hypnotize the Dark wizards into killing themselves, or something?" When he said that, Draco flinched. His father was one of those Dark wizards, and Draco would rather him not be killed.
Christina smiled. "Nope. I can help, but you have to fight your own wars," she said superiorly.
There was some grumbling about this, but nothing serious. Harry stood up. "I suggest that we all get some sleep. All that would like to go hunt for weapons, please raise your hands." About fifty people volunteered. Harry nodded.
"I'll call for you around three in the morning. Sleep well, everybody else. Tomorrow is a day that will determine history." There was some shuffling as everybody settled down on the hard rock. Draco was talking to Christine.
"Where are all of the professors at?"
"In the school."
"Why?"
"Voldemort wanted the teachers to join him, and everybody refused. So, the Dark Lord said that they would languish in the dungeons until they would fight for him."
"They've been down there for ten years?!" Draco asked, disbelievingly.
"Seems that way," Christine replied pertly.
Draco called Harry over.
"Look. I have an idea."
"That's a first," Harry drawled sarcastically.
"Shut your trap. This is serious. The teachers are imprisoned within Hogwarts."
Harry's jaw dropped, but allowed Draco to continue.
"You can lead the sorry excuse for troops we have in battle, and I'll go free the teachers. Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone, and I can do something to Hogwarts. We have more than they do; they'd be doomed." He was tracing a finger on his palm while speaking, as if drawing out a battle plan.
Harry puffed out his cheeks in thought, and then finally nodded. "Sounds good. The teachers will help. Get some sleep, Draco. We have a very long day tomorrow."
Rather surprised by the usage of his first name, Draco leaned against the walls of the cave and struggled to get comfortable. He couldn't, but finally exhaustion took over, and he slumped into a dreamless slumber, mind racing about tomorrow.
# # #
"Harry... Harry.... time to wake up," came a female voice. A sweet scent filled his nostrils, making him inhale deeply. Cinnamon and lemon peel. Then he remembered that he had a war to fight today. His eyes popped open, and they came face-to-face with a smiling, but trembling Ginny Weasley, who held a mug of tea.
"Drink up," the redhead ordered. "You have a long day today."
Harry grasped the mug and gulped the tea, gasping as it burned down his throat. Ginny wrinkled her nose at him.
"Don't swallow so fast," she scolded softly. "You'll hurt your esophagus. Hungry?" she asked, motioning to a large plate of biscuits. The thought of food made his stomach turn over, so he shook his head.
The fire that had been burning in the middle of the cave for warmth was out, so Harry walked over, grabbed a stick of burnt wood, and began sketching out a rough design of Hogwarts on the wall. When he was done, he started making little x's to represent his Trav army.
When he was done, he called the groups to attention. "Here's the battle plans, so listen up!" Harry called, smacking his stick on the wall to make noise. Everyone fell silent, even the small children.
"We're going to make a semi-circle around Hogwarts, on the side of the greenhouses-"--he made a motion towards several squares representing the greenhouses--"-so we're facing with our backs towards the sun. They have better resources, and they have better use of magic, so I'm hoping that fighting this way will throw off their aim. Some of them will undoubtedly come down for land combat... what kind of weapons do we have, anyway?" he asked, changing the subject.
There were pots, pans, knives, all sorts of kitchen utensils, a few hammers, fire pokers, sticks of wood of all sizes, and children's toys such as baseball bats and jump ropes. Knitting needles, the needles that they used to crochet that strange rope were also there. Bits of rope and chain, a whip that somebody had found dotted the pile sparsely. There was even a broken wand. Harry sighed. It wasn't the greatest assortment of weapons in the world, but it would have to do.
"Don't we have any projectile weapons?" Harry asked.
Neville's grandmother, Mrs. Longbottom, scratched her head and spoke. "When I was a little girl, we shredded old garments to make slings. We might be able to do that."
Harry nodded. "Those with the strongest arms should man the slings." Even before he spoke some people were shredding a blanket that somebody had had.
"Percy," Harry suddenly said. "I need Percy Weasley."
A very surprised looked Percy answered. "Yes, Harry?"
"I appoint you commander of the slingers," he said. Percy puffed up. Harry grinned. Even after ten years, he knew that Percy would still have some of his old, leading attitude somewhere left in him.
"Malfoy," Harry whispered. "I think that we can cause enough din for you to slip in unnoticed. I suggest that you take a hammer, so you can bust through doors." Draco nodded, and then slipped through the crowd to grab one before they were all taken.
"Are we ready?" Harry bellowed, feeling excitement rise into the tips of his fingers. The feeling tingled, and he felt like he could fly out of his body. "Any questions? Let's go!"
They burst out of the huge cave, marching into the sunshine. It was going to be a bright, sunny day. The air was fresh and sweet, and a breeze ruffled Harry's hair. It seemed too nice of a day to fight a war that was sure to be bloody, Harry sighed.
"Trav! Trav! Trav! Down with Voldemort! Trav! Trav! Trav!" The troops started chanting, churning the grass into the mud as they marched.
Dear God, Harry though in silent prayer. I don't know if this is how this is supposed to work, but I'm doing it the only way I know how.
There were sentries watching the land for dangers. One of them happened to be the runner from yesterday. You can imagine the turmoil that occurred when they saw the Trav army marching towards them.
"Alert the Lord!" one of them called.
"We've got to attack!" shouted another.
The runner boy just ran in, whether to alert the Lord, or just to get away he didn't know.
Back on the ground, Percy was ordering the slingers about. "First row!" he barked. "Shoot!" a battering of about fifty stones hit the castle, some of them breaking windows, some of them bouncing off the castle wall, and some hitting sentries.
"First row! Back and load behind Third row! Second row! Aim and shoot!" he demanded. Harry smiled listening to this. Percy had been an annoying prefect and Head Boy, but he was a good army general.
The rest of Trav waited quietly, clutching weapons like security blankets. Harry took a shuddering breath. The tension was so thick he could barely stand it.
Finally, the door burst open, and about five hundred black-robed men and women with wands came out. The moment of truth had come.
"First row!" Harry dimly heard Percy shout. "Aim at the wizards and shoot!" There was the sound of zinging stones, and the sounds of the stones thlunking into the backs of people's heads.
Harry gripped his pot and dealt a redheaded Dark wizard a nasty whack on the back of the head. It opened a large gash in the woman's head, and crimson liquid gushed out, dowsing both Harry and the woman. She dropped her wand and screamed, covering her wound with both hands. She coughed, and blood came up. She collapsed.
Bile had rose in Harry's throat, and he had to swallow several times to keep from vomiting up his tea. He dropped the pot and grabbed the wand instead. Harry looked at it curiously. He hadn't held a wand in so long...
"Harry!" screamed a voice that he couldn't recognize. "Behind you!"
Instead of turning around, Harry sideskipped and narrowly missed having a knife thrust in his back by a Dark wizard.
"So, after ten years, I get to meet with the Famous Harry Potter once again," came a smooth voice.
Harry whirled around and came face to face with Voldemort. The entire world seemed to stop spinning for a moment, and the yells of war seemed to die down. Anger rose, so hot that Harry could taste it.
"You scum," he breathed. "You filthy, cheating, spineless..." Harry was so angry that he couldn't find the right words to describe what he wanted to call Voldemort. "This is all your fault."
Voldemort actually looked quite amused. "I'm not the one that came up with your - what was it called? - Trav."
"If you weren't so power obsessed, this wouldn't have happened in the FIRST PLACE!" Harry screamed, his temper getting the better of him. "LORD HAVE MERCY ON YOUR SOUL WHEN I FINISH WITH YOU!"
"Look at me, aren't I scared," Voldemort said coolly. "Your word games have no effect on me, Potter."
A very red-faced Lee Jordan suddenly tackled Voldemort to the ground. "Harry, Harry, run!" he called.
Harry was about to protest, when a sudden thought came to him. If I run, he thought, he'll come after me, and he can't kill anyone if he isn't here....
Harry ran.
# # #
While all of this was going on, Draco had managed to sneak in the large double doors of the castle while the Dark wizards ran out.
Hogwarts was much like he remembered it. It was a little more shadowed, and lacked the cheerful air it had ten years ago, but it was still his old school. Draco slunk off into a corner, trying to remember where the dungeons were.
"Potion class," he whispered, trying to make an image of it in his mind. "Where was Snape's class?" He was having a very hard time thinking, with his heart hammering in his throat and his head throbbing as if he had hit himself over the head with his mallet.
"Halt!" a voice called from behind him. Draco's body turned to ice, and he nearly vomited. "Identify yourself!"
Once he had gotten his bodily functions back under control, he dimly noticed that the someone was holding a wand to the back of his neck. Gripping his mallet tightly, he decided to play a little trickery. This person sounded gullible.
"Put that wand down," he thundered, "or I'll see to it that your head is hanging from a pike on top of the castle!"
The person behind him squeaked and dropped the wand. "I'm so sorry, Master Malfoy... It was an accident! Please don't cut off my head!" he whimpered pitifully.
Draco grinned wolfishly. So, being a direct carbon copy of his father did have some advantages, after all.
Whirling around, he sneered at the black-haired youth as viciously as he could. He hadn't sneered in a long time. It felt good. "Take me to the dungeons, now, and maybe I'll only have your hands severed," he said as viciously agreeable as he could manage.
The boy gave something of a strangled sob and nodded, while wiping a hand across his eyes. "Yes, Sir," he whispered.
"Stop that blubbering!" Draco ordered, enjoying this newfound power by becoming his father. The youth nodded again, snuffled a little bit, and started leading Draco down a hidden hallway.
# # #
Harry sprinted across the now barren land of the wizarding world, jumping over fallen logs, and every now and then looking behind him to make sure that Voldemort was still following him.
He was indeed, and he was making good time for a forty-year-old that was trying to catch a twenty-seven year old. For Harry's advantage, however, Voldemort still wasn't completely used to his new body, and he had to walk around things that Harry could jump over, and he stumbled over his own feet a lot.
"I forgot how big the wizarding world was," he gasped to himself. Harry was in good shape, but he wasn't built for sprinting long distances.
It was then he realized that he still held a wand in his left hand. Switching it to his right, he stared at it. What good was it going to do him if he couldn't remember any spells?
Something hot and stinging punctured his calf, and came out the other end. He fell to the ground screaming, and sweating in pain. Raising his head, he looked down to see that there was an arrow sticking out of his leg.
"Damnit," he whispered, whimpering in pain. "Damnit, damnit damnit!" Voldemort advanced, and blood spewed out of Harry's leg like a grotesque geyser. He was starting to feel lightheaded from the loss of blood.
Ten minutes later, Voldemort came upon a very sweaty Harry Potter, completely drenched in his own blood. Voldemort smirked down at him.
# # #
"NO!" she cried, banging on the barrier with all of her ghostly strength. "NO NO NO NO NO!" she screamed.
# # #
"Well well well," Voldemort said tauntingly. "Nice try." Harry didn't say anything in response. The pain from his calf seemed to scorch at every nerve in his body, and it didn't seem worth it to speak.
# # #
"Please!" she wailed. "Let me through!" Whispers commenced all over the strange place, each one echoing.
# # #
"It took twenty-seven years, but the Legend of Harry Potter has come to a close. Well, the Legend of the living Harry Potter, that is," Voldemort mused. Harry sighed. Being a dead legend didn't seem so bad, really.
# # #
"Conference," the whispers whispered. "We need a conference."
"We have no TIME for a conference!" she pleaded. "Please!"
# # #
"Good-bye, Harry," Voldemort said, raising his wand. Harry shut his eyes and sighed. He felt no more that sad disdain that his life was going to end so soon. It was too bad. There had been so much that he wanted to do, and now would never get to.
# # #
She banged one more time on the barrier, and it gave way. She fell; fell fell fell down to the ground, screaming her triumph and emotion as the world spinned beneath her in a display of vibrant color.
# # #
The wand erupted in a brilliant display of purples and greens, knocking Harry's body back like a limp puppet on a string. He died swiftly.
# # #
Harry awoke in a spinning black place. It took a few moments to realize that he was dead. He felt a bit alarmed, but otherwise okay. He scanned the black place, wondering where he was.
"Harry," came a distant voice. Many other voices took up the chant. "Harry, Harry, Harry..."
Harry turned around, and looked behind him. A white ghost of a woman was smiling sadly at him. He squinted at her.
"Mum?" he finally asked.
# # #
Voldemort looked at Harry's limp body and started to laugh.
# # #
The laughing of Voldemort rang in Harry's ears. The ghost of Lily Potter smiled at her son, before shaking her head. Her lips moved, but Harry couldn't hear what she was saying. Soon, he felt overly floaty, and the black started to blur together. Lily sauntered over and the two shared a ghostly embrace, before Harry Potter disappeared from the Land of the Dead.
# # #
Harry Potter opened his eyes groggily, feeling like he was having the worst hangover in his life. Voldemort was still standing there, laughing over his 'dead' body. Harry shook his head to clear it, and touched his injured leg. It was no longer bloody, but it felt scabbed over.
Opening his eyes, he soon noticed that the wand was still beside him. The numb feeling started to burn away as anger entered his veins again.
"YARRRRRRR!" Harry cried, launching himself from the ground and leaping on a very befuddled Voldemort.
The two tussled on the ground for about five minutes - enough time to leave Harry with two black eyes and Voldemort was a broken nose - before Harry grabbed his wand, and started beating Voldemort over the head with it. He knew that this wasn't exactly proper usage of a wand, but he didn't remember any spells. This actually was a pretty good battle plan, because Voldemort could guard against magical assaults. He was having a hard time fending off blows to the head with a stick.
"Get off of me!" Voldemort roared, trying to throw Harry off. Harry kept on whacking with his wand, hoping something drastic would happen soon.
There was a splintery snap, and the wand broke in two from all of the pressure. Little white specks flew all over, getting in Voldemort's eyes. He yelped with pain and tried to claw the white substance out of his eyes.
Harry's eyes burned with tears. This was the scum that had killed his parents... he screamed with anticipation and anger and agony all in the same roar.
The half of the wand that Harry still held in his hand was sharp... very sharp... In a split second's decision, he gripped the end of the wand like he would do to a knife, and drove it like a stake into Voldemort's chest.
Voldemort stopped struggling, but his body spasmed once... twice... three times, and his black eyes gained a glossy sheen to them. A vein exploded in his eye, turning the whites of the eye a light pink. He grasped frantically at the stick that was lodged in his chest, while staring at Harry with his good eye. Green ooze - Harry supposed that it was blood of some sort - sprayed from Voldemort's chest. Taking a last, rattling breath, he collapsed to the ground, dead.
Harry looked at the dead body of Voldemort, and his green blood that mixed with Harry's own blood staining the ground. His stomach rolled, and what little he had for breakfast that day came up.
# # #
Draco followed the youth down the hallways of the castle, wishing that he would hurry up. The boy stopped by an iron door, and tapped it with his wand. The door swung open.
Inside of the metal door was a long, cavernous corridor, with iron doors lining the walls. Water dripped steadily down from a stalactite on the ceiling, creating an eerie plinking noise in the dark. A single torch burned steadily on the far wall.
"Tell me, Boy," Draco growled in the most menacing voice that he could find, "which door are the professors behind? The Lord-"--Draco shuddered--"-wants to see them."
His guide pointed noiselessly to the door closest to them. Draco nodded at it. "Open it, now." The boy obeyed.
It was very dark inside the large cell, and musty. It took about five minutes for Draco's eyes to adjust. Seated there, along the walls, were all of the professors. Some of them Draco remembered others he didn't.
"Go away, Malfoy," a shrill woman's voice called from the left. "You know what our answer is, and you know what to do to it."
Draco sighed. So, this wasn't going to be as easy as he thought. Taking his mallet, he hit the boy over the head with it, so he wouldn't have to deal with any annoyances. The teachers were silent.
"What is going on?" asked a voice that Draco recognized as Professor McGonagall. Draco walked over to her and shook his head.
"There's a war going on outside, if you haven't noticed," he said airily. "Would you care to join?"
"If we have to fight for you," Professor Sprout spat, "I'd rather eat my own foot." Draco laughed without humor.
"Right. Well, then. Perhaps I should introduce myself, and then you might want to change your minds. Does the name Draco Malfoy ring a bell?"
There was silence.
"Would you like to come help me and Harry Potter?" he asked, overly polite.
More silence.
"YES OR NO?" he yelled, getting impatient.
There was silence briefly, before there was shuffling to stand up. "Just show us the way!" somebody said, sounding very cold.
Draco grinned, feeling very relieved. "Let's go, then."
They trudged through the school, until the small party of rebels was at the front door. It was here that Professor Snape drew Draco aside.
"The rest of you go on," Snape ordered. "We have something else to do." The other twenty or so people nodded, and filed out the door.
"What do you want?" Draco asked, impatient to get to the fighting again. Snape looked at him through cold, emotionless eyes. They unnerved Draco. It looked like something of him had died in that cell.
He started walking, and Draco followed, until they were in a closed off corridor. Snape opened the door, and Draco nearly fell over.
It was filled with those ropes that he had seen Hermione, Mrs. Weasley and Nadine working on when he had first come here. They shimmered eerily, as if daring anyone to touch them.
"What are they?" asked Draco, reaching out to finger one of the ropes, and then yanking his hand back.
"Essence of Voldemort," Snape sighed. "They help to keep him alive. It's kind of like storing unicorn blood, in a way. Even if his body is dead, his spirit can live on in these ropes." Draco shuddered.
"What are we supposed to do with them?" he asked. Snape smiled, and Draco recognized it as the smile he used to use before taking points away from Gryffindor.
"Destroy them," he whispered, grabbing a torch that was stationed on the wall. Draco grinned, realizing just how much he had missed Professor Snape.
# # #
Since both of the leaders of Trav had gone, Percy appointed himself leader of the remaining troops. It was a costly battle. Both sides had lost many fighters, but since Trav had more people, it looked as if they were winning, if you could call any aspect of war 'winning'.
"Circle them!" Percy bellowed. The Trav fighters formed a circle around the remaining Dark wizards, and started falling in tighter and tighter, looking like a demented Anaconda of people.
After about five more minutes of this, Percy was starting to doubt his decision. While they were outnumbered, the Dark wizards seemed to have quite a bit of life left in them, and the circle formation made Trav easier to hit. He sighed as a spear bit into his thigh. There was a sudden battle cry from above.
The teachers came hurtling down a hill, all armed with wands from dead Dark wizards. They immediately started into the mob, taking down wizards with single wand swipes.
# # #
As Draco burned down the ropes, he could hear Voldemort talking to him in his head.
"What are you doing, Draco? I could give you anything you want, Draco. Wealth, a home, a family... your father..."
At the mention of his father, Draco stopped with the torch and cringed.
"Yes, Draco... your father is still alive..."
Draco slammed the thoughts out of his mind, and stuck the flame into a coil of rope. It instantly exploded into a crimson flame.
"Leave me alone!" he snarled viciously to the ropes. "You have caused enough problems in my life.."
"Problems?" went the voice. "I haven't caused you any problems.... you did them all yourself..."
"LIAR!" Draco shouted, the shout echoing as he set fire to another piece of rope.
"Would I lie to the son of one of my advisors?" Voldemort went on.
"YES!" Draco yelled, swinging the torch to a wall of rope. The voice was getting fainter. That was a good sign, thought Draco as sweat rolled down his body.
"I wasn't the one that made you run away..." Voldemort said, as another rope crinkled into ash.
"IT WAS BECAUSE OF YOU I RAN AWAY!" Draco thundered as the last rope exploded into flame. The voice was reduced to little more than a breeze of a whisper, and then was nothing.
Voldemort was gone.
# # #
The 'Anaconda' of people wrapped tighter and tighter around the small group of people that was the Dark army. The battle was dwindling down. It was nearing seven at night, and everyone was tiring after nearly twelve hours of battle. The Dark wizards were getting that it was senseless to keep fighting, but decided that they would go down swinging if they had to go down at all.
Professor McGonagall ended it all, losing her temper.
"Magnum Colosivitz!" she bellowed. A large black cloud erupted from the end of her wand, enshrouding everyone.
When the cloud dissipated, the fifteen remaining Dark wizards had died, and Professor McGonagall had fainted from the effort. There was silence for a moment. Trav had defeated the Dark wizards. A unanimous cheer rose through the crowd.
Draco, meanwhile, was frantically searching through the bodies of the Dark wizards for his father. He found him on the banks of the lake. Draco leaned over and felt for a pulse. There was none. He leaned back and looked at his father. He appeared to be merely sleeping.
Harry had just staggered back from the fields where he had been, and saw Draco looking at the body of his father. He stumbled over there and touched his shoulder.
"Malfoy?" he panted, "are you-"
"I'm fine," Draco snapped, cutting him off, and shaking the hand off his shoulder. He felt no sadness, just an immense coldness that seemed to have swallowed his body up whole. "Just fine." He walked off.
# # #
Nadine Granger sat down on her bed. Like most ten-year-olds, she liked to play with her friends, and Luanne Bell had just left. Nadine liked Luanne, but she was glad that her friend had left, and now she could be alone.
Walking over to her radio, she fiddled with the knobs that controlled the stations, until she found a song that suited her.
A long, long time ago... I can still remember, how that music.... used to make me smile... and I knew that if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance... and maybe they'd be happy... for a while...
Nadine was rather fond of this song. It told a story of the past, even if it was a muggle story, and even if it was American.
But February made me shiver.... with ever paper I delivered... bad news on the doorstep... I couldn't take... one more step...
There was a knock at the door.
I can't remember if I cried.... when I read about his widowed bride.... but something touched me deep inside... the day... the music... died...
"Come in," Nadine said, not bothering to turn down the music. Her mother came in.
I started singin... bye-bye Miss American Pie.... drove my Chevy to the levy but the levy was dry... and good ol' boys were drinking whisky and rye... singing this'll be the day that I die... this'll be the day that I die...
To Nadine, her mother was the most beautiful woman in the world. The average person wouldn't think so. Although she was only thirty-two, she had white hairs, wrinkles, and wasn't very slim. But she had been thorough a lot, and Nadine though that she was beautiful on the inside more than on the out. Hermione Granger smiled at her daughter.
"Thinking deep thoughts again, Sugarplum?" she asked her daughter tiredly.
Did you write the book of love, and do you have faith in God above.... if the Bible tells you so? And do you believe in rock and roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And... can you teach me how to dance... real slow?
"Do I do anything else?" Nadine asked, answering a question with a question, like always. Hermione smiled at her daughter and sat on the bed.
Well, I know that you're in love with him, cause I saw you dancin in the gym.... you both kicked off your shoes.... man, I dig those rythemy blues!
Nadine climbed in her mother's lap, and tucked the crown of her head under Hermione's chin. "I was actually thinking about... you know.... six years ago?" Hermione took a deep breath, as the radio sang on.
I was a lonely teenage bronkin buck.... with a pink carnation and a pickup truck... but I knew that I was out of luck... the day... the music... died....
"Those are pretty deep thoughts for a ten-year-old," Hermione crooned, stroking her daughter's brown hair. Nadine sighed.
"I think about it all the time, Mummy."
And I was singin... bye bye Miss American Pie... drove my Chevy to the levy but the levy was dry... and good ol' boys were drinkin whisky and rye... singing this'll be the day that I die...
"I think about all of the people that have died, and I think about Christine, and I think about Harry and Draco and I..." she had to stop to catch her breath. Hermione sighed.
"The people who died all died for a good cause, so they all went to Heaven. Christine is there too, probably watching down on us right now. Didn't you know that Harry is working to construct the wizarding world again? He works as the Minister of Magic."
"I know that. I still think about him, though. He looks like he needs thinking about," Nadine insisted. Hermione grinned at her daughter's sense of logic. "But what about Draco? I haven't seen him for six years."
Hermione frowned. It was true. The last time anyone saw Draco was the day of the war, and he disappeared into thin air, so it seemed. There were no traces of Draco Malfoy, Gregory Green, or Amfylo left to be found. He simply vanished. Hermione bit her lip, trying to think of a good answer to her daughters' question. Then the answer came.
"That's actually rather easy. Draco Malfoy lost himself when he was about your age. He's just out there trying to find himself again."
Now for ten years we've been on our own,
and moss grows fat on a rolling stone,
but that's not how it used to be...
When the Jester sang for the King and Queen,
in a coat he borrowed from James Dean,
in a voice that came from you and me...
Oh, and while the King was looking down,
the Jester stole his thorny crown...
The courtroom was adjourned,
no verdict was returned...
And while Lenin read a book on Marks,
the quartet practiced in the parks,
and we sang durges in the dark,
the day, the music.... died...
THE END
A/N: Well. I don't care for this chapter much, but eh, it all came together I s'pose. *grins* I think that I am just one big plagiarist! I stole things from the Shining, the Matrix, Bell Prater's Boy, Redwall... stop me when you've heard enough! A chocolate frog to the person that can decode the reason why I put American Pie as the ending quotes! (if I got some of the lyrics wrong, account it to the fact that I got them off a radio by ear...-_-;;) It'll give you something to think about, anyway. See you all later!
~Moxie ^_^
Disclaimer: All of the Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and American Pie belongs to Don McLean. Did I miss anything?