The Wrong Turn
By: Rosa Nicole
"D -Diagon Alley," he coughed
Harry felt himself being pulled and twisted, and turned inside out. Spinning and gagging he put his arms in front of him, feeling nothing but air and fire, that wasn't real. "Stop it!" he called out. But then it did. He was lurched out onto cold cement, his glassess shattering as they connected with the ground.
Harry got to his feet and looked around him. In a room as cold and dim as the dungeons at Hogwarts, Harry shivered. And he felt his knees go weak. A sickening fear began to creep into his stomach when he realized that he wasn't in Diagon Alley, but in a place much much worse. It was the place the struck a line of terror in a certain young wizard's heart. A wizard the same age and height as Harry. And right now, that very wizard was feeling the exact same way Harry was. Cold, alone, and afraid.
Harry didn't know that he was the only one who was fearful, as he dove into the nearest cabinet, to avoid confrontation by the two people he knew to be his enemies.
As Lucious Malfoy walked into the shop with his son Draco, Mr. Borgin, the owner of the shop came into veiw.
"Master Malfoy," said Mr. Borgin pleasantly, "What can I do for you today?"
"I have a few items that I need to sell," said Lucious, his voice full of ice.
"Sell?" said Mr. Borgin," his happy manner decreasing a little.
"That's right. As you probably have heard, the ministry has been meddling in matters that do not concern them."
"I don't really listen to gossip," said Mr. Borgin airily.
"Oh that's right Borgin, you only tell it."
Mr. Borin blushed a little and began to haggle with Lucious.
"Draco!" snapped Lucious, catching a glance at Draco from the corner of his eye.
Draco quickly drew his hand back from the cabinet he was about to open, and answered his father. "Yes?"
"Didn't I tell you not to touch anything?"
"Well yes but......"
"But what?" boomed Lucious, leaving his place by the counter and looming over Draco.
"I-I thought I heard something,"
"Stupid boy," said Lucious, drawing his hand back, "How many times have I told you not to-"
But Lucious stopped talking, because he heard it too. A faint rustling coming from inside the musty cabinet. Draco opened his closed eyes, and took his hands away from his face. He pushed Draco aside and opened the cabinet.
There were no words to describe what any of the three felt at that moment. Draco's eyes were wide with terror and surprise. Lucious' were narrowed with anger and sucess. Harry's were shut in sickness and horror.
Mr. Borgin had just come out of the back room, and before he knew what had happened, Lucious had uttered to fatal words and raised his wand high. Killing him instantly, without guilt or remorse.
"Draco!" screamed Lucious wildly, "Get your wand on Harry!"
Draco quickly raised his arm, and that's when Harry saw. A long scar twisting from the nape of his neck, all the way down Draco's arm, to the edge of his wrist. So that was why Draco always wore high collar robes. Harry had thought it was because he wanted to be sophisticated. Now he knew otherwise.
Harry didn't know what do say or do, as he stared into the eyes of someone who was just as afraid as he was. He didn't move, but he did speak. Only one word, one syllable, but so much power if used the right way. "Please," Harry whispered, leaning his head forward.
Draco's eyes opened even wider, and a low moan escaped his lips. His eye gave a little twitch. Draco couldn't resist that word. He had used it so many times himself.
"Please father, don't hurt me, I'll do better next time. Please! I'll do anything! I beg you, please father!"
Draco shook his head again, harder this time. He knew what pleading was like, begging. Harry was begging for his life, only not in so many words.
While his father cleaned up the mess in the back room, Draco used dark magic to transport Harry outside the shop, into the dark alley's. He said only one word. He begged as Harry had done. "Hurry," he said. Simple and faint. Harry got the message.
Draco knew what awaited him when his father found out that Harry was gone. But he knew that this was something he had to do. He had some decency left in him. He wouldn't let his father rip that out.
Draco didn't want to see the great Harry Potter, laying on the cold stone floor, begging for his life. Suffering at the hands of Lucious Malfoy. Draco didn't want to see a scar on the arm of Harry Potter, like the one that matched his own. The scar that controled his life. But as Draco looked down at it, for the first time in his life, that the scar was white and not black.
***********************************************************************
In the years ahead at Hogwarts, things went the same between Draco and Harry. Except that for some reason unknown to him, Harry felt that justice needed to be balanced. he didn't like putting spiders in Ron's bed when he insulted Draco, but he did. Harry didn't like knocking Fred or George off their brooms when they disgraced the family name, but he did. It wasn't pleasant defending Draco in front of Dumbledoor, but he did.
Whenever Harry saw Draco clutching his left arm, he was reminded of the day when his life was saved by someone who he thought to be cold and unfeeling. Whenever Harry saw Draco with a black eye, or broken wrist, he knew where it came from, and Harry had to fight the urge to cut himself. He didn't want to be the one without pain, but he was.
Harry knew that he could never measure up as a hero in everyone's eyes. But little did he know, Harrry was Draco's Hero. Draco was Harry's hero. With both of them looking up, there eyes had to meet. And when they did, they knew that being equal was a gift.
By: Rosa Nicole
"D -Diagon Alley," he coughed
Harry felt himself being pulled and twisted, and turned inside out. Spinning and gagging he put his arms in front of him, feeling nothing but air and fire, that wasn't real. "Stop it!" he called out. But then it did. He was lurched out onto cold cement, his glassess shattering as they connected with the ground.
Harry got to his feet and looked around him. In a room as cold and dim as the dungeons at Hogwarts, Harry shivered. And he felt his knees go weak. A sickening fear began to creep into his stomach when he realized that he wasn't in Diagon Alley, but in a place much much worse. It was the place the struck a line of terror in a certain young wizard's heart. A wizard the same age and height as Harry. And right now, that very wizard was feeling the exact same way Harry was. Cold, alone, and afraid.
Harry didn't know that he was the only one who was fearful, as he dove into the nearest cabinet, to avoid confrontation by the two people he knew to be his enemies.
As Lucious Malfoy walked into the shop with his son Draco, Mr. Borgin, the owner of the shop came into veiw.
"Master Malfoy," said Mr. Borgin pleasantly, "What can I do for you today?"
"I have a few items that I need to sell," said Lucious, his voice full of ice.
"Sell?" said Mr. Borgin," his happy manner decreasing a little.
"That's right. As you probably have heard, the ministry has been meddling in matters that do not concern them."
"I don't really listen to gossip," said Mr. Borgin airily.
"Oh that's right Borgin, you only tell it."
Mr. Borin blushed a little and began to haggle with Lucious.
"Draco!" snapped Lucious, catching a glance at Draco from the corner of his eye.
Draco quickly drew his hand back from the cabinet he was about to open, and answered his father. "Yes?"
"Didn't I tell you not to touch anything?"
"Well yes but......"
"But what?" boomed Lucious, leaving his place by the counter and looming over Draco.
"I-I thought I heard something,"
"Stupid boy," said Lucious, drawing his hand back, "How many times have I told you not to-"
But Lucious stopped talking, because he heard it too. A faint rustling coming from inside the musty cabinet. Draco opened his closed eyes, and took his hands away from his face. He pushed Draco aside and opened the cabinet.
There were no words to describe what any of the three felt at that moment. Draco's eyes were wide with terror and surprise. Lucious' were narrowed with anger and sucess. Harry's were shut in sickness and horror.
Mr. Borgin had just come out of the back room, and before he knew what had happened, Lucious had uttered to fatal words and raised his wand high. Killing him instantly, without guilt or remorse.
"Draco!" screamed Lucious wildly, "Get your wand on Harry!"
Draco quickly raised his arm, and that's when Harry saw. A long scar twisting from the nape of his neck, all the way down Draco's arm, to the edge of his wrist. So that was why Draco always wore high collar robes. Harry had thought it was because he wanted to be sophisticated. Now he knew otherwise.
Harry didn't know what do say or do, as he stared into the eyes of someone who was just as afraid as he was. He didn't move, but he did speak. Only one word, one syllable, but so much power if used the right way. "Please," Harry whispered, leaning his head forward.
Draco's eyes opened even wider, and a low moan escaped his lips. His eye gave a little twitch. Draco couldn't resist that word. He had used it so many times himself.
"Please father, don't hurt me, I'll do better next time. Please! I'll do anything! I beg you, please father!"
Draco shook his head again, harder this time. He knew what pleading was like, begging. Harry was begging for his life, only not in so many words.
While his father cleaned up the mess in the back room, Draco used dark magic to transport Harry outside the shop, into the dark alley's. He said only one word. He begged as Harry had done. "Hurry," he said. Simple and faint. Harry got the message.
Draco knew what awaited him when his father found out that Harry was gone. But he knew that this was something he had to do. He had some decency left in him. He wouldn't let his father rip that out.
Draco didn't want to see the great Harry Potter, laying on the cold stone floor, begging for his life. Suffering at the hands of Lucious Malfoy. Draco didn't want to see a scar on the arm of Harry Potter, like the one that matched his own. The scar that controled his life. But as Draco looked down at it, for the first time in his life, that the scar was white and not black.
***********************************************************************
In the years ahead at Hogwarts, things went the same between Draco and Harry. Except that for some reason unknown to him, Harry felt that justice needed to be balanced. he didn't like putting spiders in Ron's bed when he insulted Draco, but he did. Harry didn't like knocking Fred or George off their brooms when they disgraced the family name, but he did. It wasn't pleasant defending Draco in front of Dumbledoor, but he did.
Whenever Harry saw Draco clutching his left arm, he was reminded of the day when his life was saved by someone who he thought to be cold and unfeeling. Whenever Harry saw Draco with a black eye, or broken wrist, he knew where it came from, and Harry had to fight the urge to cut himself. He didn't want to be the one without pain, but he was.
Harry knew that he could never measure up as a hero in everyone's eyes. But little did he know, Harrry was Draco's Hero. Draco was Harry's hero. With both of them looking up, there eyes had to meet. And when they did, they knew that being equal was a gift.