Twisted Games
By: Aquamaxis
(aka Superpunk)
Chapter Two-A Silver Opportunity
Hermione stared at the room from behind silver bars. Redness blinded her eyes. The room was a complete circle, ground and all. She was locked within a frame of silver and gold bars...caged. The cage was located directly in the center of the room. She felt like a centerpiece.
"I can't believe this worked."
Draco arose from his sitting place below her. "Why wouldn't it?" He gripped two steel bars and faced her. The moment was very symbolic.
"Because someone has got to realize that this plan is so stupid. You abducting me. Ha."
He narrowed his eyes. "While you were knocked out I compromised a little. Be glad you're not dead right now." Draco's grip loosened on the bars and he backed away. "I managed to hatch an idea."
"And what would that be?" Hermione asked stiffly.
He shrugged. "I said that Potter was madly in love with you and he would somehow figure out where the hell you were. Or something like that."
Hermione clutched her heart. "You didn't," she gasped. The color had drained out of her cheeks, leaving them a pearlescent white. "Harry will find this place and he'll be killed! Voldemort knows how capable he is!"
"Relax. We're plotted somewhere in Scotland. We're nowhere near Hogwarts."
"Idiot!" Hermione screeched. "Hogwarts is in Scotland!"
Draco shifted around uncomfortably. "I wondered why dad said this the best place for camp..." He saw the outraged look fixed on Hermione's face. "Don't worry!"
"How can I not worry? Harry is my best friend!"
Draco spent the next half hour coaxing Hermione to calm down. Finally, he gave up and walked outside of the tent, leaving her screaming by herself.
It was like tumbling into a world of green and gray. Small circles of tents were aligned neatly into rows. Each tent was wearing the Dark Mark in it's center. A few robed figures were walking about silently. Draco ducked through them and found himself feeling very cold.
Dementors. His insides churned and he stepped away from the place. He walked for a bit, taking particular interest in a dozen giants wrestling. This was a place of evil. Evil creatures, evil people...Draco shook his head.
"Draco, there you are!"
Rolling his eyes, Draco turned around. "What do you want?" he demanded empathetically.
Lucius raised his eyebrows. "I wanted to show you something."
A spark of curiosity jumped at him. Trying hard not to show his feelings Draco asked, "What?" as innocently as possible.
"You'll have to come if you must know," Lucius said smoothly.
"Fine!" Draco said stubbornly. "I'll go! You don't have to beg me or anything!" Draco smiled, satisfied with his raw acting talent.
Lucius didn't buy it. "Follow."
Draco flicked him off once his back was turned. Lucius led him through a maze of Dark Wizards and Witches, becoming particularly interested in a group of veela entertaining a few.
"I didn't know veela were Dark Creatures."
"They aren't," Lucius replied smartly. "They are here for the Inner Circle."
Of course, Draco though. Your stupid Inner Circle, with your stupid privileges. Inner Circle this, Inner Circle that. Who cares.
Draco had never had any special intention on becoming a Dark Wizard. Lucius had used so many curses on him that it had been beaten into his mind that good was bad and bad was good. Luckily Hermione rescued him...
The pandemonium ended when Draco saw what lay ahead of him.
Three beautiful miniature dragons...one blue, one red, one green. They were roughly the size of horses and completely identical. All had two horns sticking out of the top of a jagged heart shaped face. Tails were long and thin. The most interesting feature, however, were the beautiful wings. They shone like silver and were laced with spiky ridges. Draco loved them all.
"They're yours. You'll be needing them soon."
"I...I don't know what to say..."
"Thank you would be appropriate."
Draco plastered on a very forced smile. "Thanks," he said in monotone.
"Don't thank me. They're from the Dark Lord."
Draco suddenly stopped smiling. "Why?"
"He seems to think that you came up with a brilliant plan of some sort. This is a reward. He said it suited your name and personality." Lucius eyed his son suspiciously.
"Well then tell him I said thanks," Draco said nervously, dreading the next thing his father was going to say.
"You can tell him thanks yourself. You're meeting him tonight."
* * *
Symbolism...the snitch rolled through the mass of Harry's hands, suddenly frozen and pointless. It balanced a trifle of the very tips of his fingers before plunging down towards the earth, where it hit the cold, hard ground and shattered into a million pieces.
The sky was overflowing with an army of green blurs. Screams filled the air. Harry stared, awed in wonder and fear.
A green blur slowed down and Harry discovered that it was in fact a wizard sitting atop a Hippogriph. The beast looked nothing like Buckbeak, in fact, it was so vicious and revolting that it didn't even resemble the same species. The wizard was cloaked in a shimmering green tunic and was clutching some sort of wand with what looked like a spiked ball hanging from a chain at the end.
Harry watched in horror as the wizard blew apart a bench some had been sitting on. They scattered, wailing terrible cries of pity and rampage. Apparently they, like Harry, had been too scared to move. The wizard laughed and swung the great weapon over his head.
He brought the ball down upon a student and a horrible crushing sound was unearthed from him...and a crumpled body lay dead at the warrior's feet. With a flick of his wrist the ball and chain wiped back into the warrior's wand. Harry had never seen anything like it.
It was one of those moments when you black out, but not really. Total instincts take over your body and you feel great amounts of emotion...in Harry's case, rage.
He hoped on his broomstick and grabbed his wand out of his pocket. He kicked into the air and dodged a few other quidditch players scampering about. Harry seized the wand in the warriors hand. He now had two wands...
Harry blasted on speed but the warrior caught the tip of Harry's broomstick. He pulled it backwards with amazing strength and clamped it under his foot. Harry rolled off and did what any sensible person would do...he pointed out both of the wands.
"No!" the warrior roared. He fixed his hands around Harry's thin neck and squeezed. Harry felt all of the air go out of him. Quickly he kicked the warrior in the stomach with both feet and flipped over backwards and landed painfully on his back. The warrior doubled over.
Swiftly Harry hopped to his feet. He shoved his own wand into his pocket and foolishly waved the other one around in the air. It emitted a number of great sparks which flew into the air and exploded like firecrackers. Harry waved it again and it mutated into a large, curved sword.
Harry practiced swinging it around. It was rather heavy. He had almost forgotten about the warrior when he clutched the hems of Harry's robes, causing him to fall to his feet. Harry concealed the sword under the weight of himself and when the warrior flipped him over demanding the wand, Harry thrust the sword right into his heart.
Surprised at his own wit, Harry rolled away from the yelping warrior. He balanced himself and cried a war cry...and decapitated a few more.
* * *
Draco slipped back into the Red Room. Hermione was asleep in her cage, all hunched together in the few square feet of space it gave her. They had taken her wand and everything in her pockets.
Silently as possible, Draco sneaked up to Hermione. A stand of hair was lying across her face. He gently tucked it behind her ear and felt the softness of her skin. Here she was, imprisoned by her own will. It dawned on Draco that she was very weak without her wand. Hermione was petite and thin and without her wand she was reduced to a little girl.
Draco edged his arm out of the cage. It pained him to see her like this. He knew they would not feed her, and they would not show any feeling towards her besides hate. It was up to him to take care of her.
He sighed and turned away.
"Draco."
"Yes father," Draco responded automatically. "I am coming."
The walk towards the center of the camp seemed very short. Draco was petrified with fear. He had always been very afraid of Voldemort, ever since he saw his mother cleaning the deep slashes in the back of his father's back when he was five. When Draco had innocently asked where the cuts had come from, his mother wept as she told him Lucius had fallen in a brumble bush. The wounds were in fact a reoccurring curse that Lucius would hold until the day he died.
"Go in," Lucius said defiantly. "He only wished to see you."
Draco looked up at the tent. It has marble steps leading up to it's entrance flap, which looked rather ridiculous, but Draco figured nothing short of a palace would be concealed inside. Lucius gave Draco a little shove and he started up the steps.
Each step he took seemed to be louder than the previous. Every eye passing by was locked on this 15 year old boy, slowing climbing his way to the Dark Lord's lair. He almost felt himself trip with fright.
Hands shaking, Draco pushed open the threshold to the tent. He stepped inside and was transported into a galaxy of black and white checked floor and a great golden throne. The room was gigantic and square and very dark.
Draco cautiously approached the throne. He would make out a pale, spidery hand tapping on the arm of the chair. He faint noises it made echoed through the empty room.
"I have been waiting for you, Draco."
Draco bit his lip. He wished he were anywhere but here now. Anywhere.
"Come closer."
He inched forward, tightening every muscle in his body. He swallowed very hardly and spoke, "What do you wish of me?"
Voldemort arose, his face finally visible. It penetrated the darkness of the room. His skin was so colorless and pale it almost glowed brighter than his red eyes. He laughed.
"I have a gift of sensing emotion, boy. And you are very afraid. Why."
It wasn't a question. Draco gulped again. "I'm not afraid."
"Do not lie to yourself or me, boy," Voldemort said in his dark voice. "I can feel your emotion and you are scared." He circled around Draco, lightly tracing a finger around his shoulders.
"Yet you are strong. You have never realized all of the power that you can possess."
Draco didn't feel very powerful. "Well now I do. Thanks for the dragons, bye!" He turned and started to walk away when a stabbing pain hit him.
He screamed in agony as every bone in his body crunched, every muscle was reduced to shreds...every cell was furious with pain. In too much pain to recognize the Crucatius Curse, Draco begged himself to die.
The pain was wiped away with the flick of Voldemort's wand. Draco laid panting on the floor, a cold sweat blanketing his body. Voldemort laughed.
"You will learn to obey me, boy."
Draco glared at the checkerboard ground, hoping it would burst apart and Voldemort would die.
"Get up."
Draco struggled to his feet. The effects from the simple word "Crucio" had altered his balance temporarily. "What do you want?" he demanded rudely.
"Look."
A great glass orb was thrust at Draco's feet. Looking into it, he saw himself: the same strong body, gleaming blonde hair, penetrating gray eyes accompanied by a handsome face. He was dressed in a silver medival-looking tunic with a great flowing cape and a sword descending from his black leather belt to matching dragonhide boots. He was standing in front of an army of monsters, with his three miniature dragons beside him.
"So what?" Draco said.
"You are looking into your future, and I would dare not doubt it."
"What, I'm a commander?"
"Absolutely."
Draco's jaw dropped. "Why? I haven't done anything! I've never even touched a sword! I don't know how to command an army!"
Voldemort's slit-like mouth formulated into a sinister smile. "You would be surprised at your destiny." The glass orb, roughly the size of a snitch, levitated into the air and Draco snatched it and shoved it in his pocket, only to see that he wasn't in his regular black robes anymore, he was ensambeled in an exact duplicate of the image in the crystal ball.
"Your army is waiting."
Draco nervously felt the hinge of his sword. It was sturdy and practically socketed itself into Draco's hand. He pulled it out, tempted to clash it right through Voldemort's stupid head.
But Voldemort was gone.
* * *
There were bodies sprawled out everywhere. At least twenty were dead, pools of blood exhausted around their victims. There was only seven shimmering green tunics visible from the deep mounds of debris. Harry had killed each one of them.
Silently he fell to his knees and started sobbing. This did not just happen. This did not just happen. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Ron...thank god you're okay..." Harry forced himself up. "Where is Hermione?"
"I don't know. They can't find her. Everyone who could rampaged back into Hogwarts, into Dumbledore's office. Look." Ron waved a hand at the ruins that was Hogwarts. Only a spiral staircase leading to Dumbledore's domain was preserved. Many were gathered there, sitting on Dumbledore's desk, weeping, crying, sobbing...
"Harry..."
Harry looked at his best friend, a stream of blood trickling down his freckled face. "Yeah?"
Ron was staring at him very oddly. "When did you learn to use a sword?"
"Never. Why?"
Ron shifted his weight around uncomfortably. "Well...I think it was you that drove away most of those Death Eaters. You took on three at the same time and killed them all. Most of us were watching from the building."
"What?" Harry croaked. "Where was Dumbledore?"
Ron didn't say anything.
"Ron? Where was he? Answer me!" Harry yelled, but he knew what Ron was not going to tell him. He knew Dumbledore was gone.
A/N: Well, did you like it? I worked very hard on this, but I don't know if I will continue if I don't get more reviews. The whole point of fanfiction.net is to get feedback...so please do review, constructive flames are okay too. :)