Totally AU. More may come from this. You've seen it here first--Ten's
first stab at Harry Potter fanfiction. Seeing as how it is AU, there are
no warnings. Only that, if I decide to make a story from this, this is a
major spoiler. Read at your own caution. Now, with no further ado, here's
muh ficlet.
Nine of Wands
Harry groaned as consciousness slowly returned to him and he waited for his vision to clear. His glasses were gone. He reached out to where he usually had them--the far right side of the bed--but his hand stopped short with a rattle?
A rattle?
"Coming out of the rabbit hole, Potter?" a familiar voice drawled.
"Malfoy," Harry grated out as he got his bearings. He was what appeared, from his blurred vision, that he was chained to the walls in the Potions classroom, an old dungeon ages back. He wasn't alone, either. Ron hung to his left and just started to reawaken. Hermione was on his other side, awake and glaring at Malfoy with vicious intent.
Malfoy pushed Harry's glasses onto his face with practiced ease. "That better?" He smirked. Anyway, if you can promise that she'll behave, I'll let the Mudblood talk."
Ron came to. "Miney? What did you do to her?" he demanded, followed by words that would set his mother's corpse into centrifugal speed.
"Now, now, Weasley. Such words." The blond looked at Ron with cool blue eyes. "Honestly, I could care less if she talks."
He turned his attention back to Harry. "Alright, I'm tired of beating around the bush with all of these bloody niceties. Now, you'll be a good Boy Who Lived and tell it to me straight, right?"
Harry eyed Malfoy warily. "Tell you what?"
Malfoy snorted. "Don't give me that shit. I've already seen your Marks. Or would you like me to bare your arms for you just to make you feel better?"
Hermione rattled her chains violently and Ron spoke up for her. "What the hell are you talking about? What marks?"
"Honestly, you two. Potter himself realizes that I'm not bluffing." He walked over to Harry and pushed down the left sleeve of his robe, revealing the snake-and-skull tattoo.
The room went quiet. "It's getting darker by the day," Ron breathed.
"So," Draco barked, a staccato in the Phantom's music, "how long were you going to lie? How long were you going to let everyone think you actually killed Voldemort?" He glared at Harry. "How long were you going to let the deaths of students, staff, and family all be called 'casualties of war'?" Potter had the decency to wince. He walked off into the dark again.
Weasley told him with a cocky tone in his voice, "You'll never be able to convict us. Harry's the Boy Who Lived! And we are his two best friends; we three have done much in the fight against Voldemort!"
"Ah, but you just called him Voldemort. The Ron Weasley that everyone knows would cringe at the name, not even daring to use it," Draco's voice lilted from the shadows. Silence, and a few moments later, he spoke up again. "Let me see if I can divine this from what I know of you then and now… You three were going to fight Him—as usual—and Potter was taken prisoner, no, Granger was. The precious Mudblood and weak link of the triad. She was put under the Imperius Curse so deep she joined their side. Somehow, you were either forced, or went on your own free will. Either way, you became traitors.
'You come back to Hogwarts, fake scratches and blood and all, proclaim Voldemort's dead, and you all become heroes. Happy days for wizards and witches, and you three are idolized, you sick, twisted bastards." He paused. "And bitch. Sorry about that."
Weasley barked out laughter. "You don't know the half of it! Harry's Voldemort's—"
Potter cut in. "Ron, Malfoy's egging you on. He's trying to get answers from us that'll never see the light of day."
Draco whistled through his teeth. "Wow, being the right-hand man of Him must mean you get all the brains." There was a muttered word and a gesture, and Hermione was yelling at Draco with all of her might. He grinned. "You know, you still keep opening your mouth, but nothing comes out…"
"Just you watch, Malfoy. Once I'm free of these chains, they'll be around your neck before you can say 'Daddy's Boy'," Granger spat.
Draco's smile melted and was quickly replaced by one that was cold and cruel. "Now that the whole little charade is over, tell me: Where is he?"
"Who, Voldemort?" Weasley asked. He snorted. "Like we'd tell you."
"Where is he?" Draco asked again.
"Professor Snape is in his quarters, I do believe," Granger stated.
"Where is he?"
Potter stood silent.
"WHERE IS DUMBLEDORE?"
Nine of Wands
Harry groaned as consciousness slowly returned to him and he waited for his vision to clear. His glasses were gone. He reached out to where he usually had them--the far right side of the bed--but his hand stopped short with a rattle?
A rattle?
"Coming out of the rabbit hole, Potter?" a familiar voice drawled.
"Malfoy," Harry grated out as he got his bearings. He was what appeared, from his blurred vision, that he was chained to the walls in the Potions classroom, an old dungeon ages back. He wasn't alone, either. Ron hung to his left and just started to reawaken. Hermione was on his other side, awake and glaring at Malfoy with vicious intent.
Malfoy pushed Harry's glasses onto his face with practiced ease. "That better?" He smirked. Anyway, if you can promise that she'll behave, I'll let the Mudblood talk."
Ron came to. "Miney? What did you do to her?" he demanded, followed by words that would set his mother's corpse into centrifugal speed.
"Now, now, Weasley. Such words." The blond looked at Ron with cool blue eyes. "Honestly, I could care less if she talks."
He turned his attention back to Harry. "Alright, I'm tired of beating around the bush with all of these bloody niceties. Now, you'll be a good Boy Who Lived and tell it to me straight, right?"
Harry eyed Malfoy warily. "Tell you what?"
Malfoy snorted. "Don't give me that shit. I've already seen your Marks. Or would you like me to bare your arms for you just to make you feel better?"
Hermione rattled her chains violently and Ron spoke up for her. "What the hell are you talking about? What marks?"
"Honestly, you two. Potter himself realizes that I'm not bluffing." He walked over to Harry and pushed down the left sleeve of his robe, revealing the snake-and-skull tattoo.
The room went quiet. "It's getting darker by the day," Ron breathed.
"So," Draco barked, a staccato in the Phantom's music, "how long were you going to lie? How long were you going to let everyone think you actually killed Voldemort?" He glared at Harry. "How long were you going to let the deaths of students, staff, and family all be called 'casualties of war'?" Potter had the decency to wince. He walked off into the dark again.
Weasley told him with a cocky tone in his voice, "You'll never be able to convict us. Harry's the Boy Who Lived! And we are his two best friends; we three have done much in the fight against Voldemort!"
"Ah, but you just called him Voldemort. The Ron Weasley that everyone knows would cringe at the name, not even daring to use it," Draco's voice lilted from the shadows. Silence, and a few moments later, he spoke up again. "Let me see if I can divine this from what I know of you then and now… You three were going to fight Him—as usual—and Potter was taken prisoner, no, Granger was. The precious Mudblood and weak link of the triad. She was put under the Imperius Curse so deep she joined their side. Somehow, you were either forced, or went on your own free will. Either way, you became traitors.
'You come back to Hogwarts, fake scratches and blood and all, proclaim Voldemort's dead, and you all become heroes. Happy days for wizards and witches, and you three are idolized, you sick, twisted bastards." He paused. "And bitch. Sorry about that."
Weasley barked out laughter. "You don't know the half of it! Harry's Voldemort's—"
Potter cut in. "Ron, Malfoy's egging you on. He's trying to get answers from us that'll never see the light of day."
Draco whistled through his teeth. "Wow, being the right-hand man of Him must mean you get all the brains." There was a muttered word and a gesture, and Hermione was yelling at Draco with all of her might. He grinned. "You know, you still keep opening your mouth, but nothing comes out…"
"Just you watch, Malfoy. Once I'm free of these chains, they'll be around your neck before you can say 'Daddy's Boy'," Granger spat.
Draco's smile melted and was quickly replaced by one that was cold and cruel. "Now that the whole little charade is over, tell me: Where is he?"
"Who, Voldemort?" Weasley asked. He snorted. "Like we'd tell you."
"Where is he?" Draco asked again.
"Professor Snape is in his quarters, I do believe," Granger stated.
"Where is he?"
Potter stood silent.
"WHERE IS DUMBLEDORE?"