DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter 10: Rebel with a Cause

"Draco!" Lucius Malfoy kneeled down at his son's side. "Ennervate."

Icy gray eyes, identical to his own, fluttered open. "Father!" he gasped, sitting up quickly. "I--" He looked down, ashamed, and rubbed his head. "I'm sorry."

"Tell me what happened, Draco," said his father coldly.

"I met Potter when I was coming out of the dungeons. He had his family with him, and this girl. She looked our age, but I'd never seen her before. Red hair, and green eyes like Potter's. Her name was Lily Evans. I Stunned Potter and took her. I was going to take her to you. She cared for Potter very much. And then she…and then she*" He couldn't admit such a stupid thing to himself.

"And then she Stunned you," Lucius finished, trying to hide his alarm. Lily Evans, later known as Lily Potter. But she was killed!

"Yes--but I took her wand! She grabbed it out of my hand and did it."

"Indeed," said Lucius, standing up carefully. Draco looked at him fearfully. "I will report this to our Lord. You go find the Mudblood--if Potter escaped, then he would have taken her with him. She should be staying in the first room of the east wing, the Silver Room. If she is gone, report at once to me. I will be in the study. Notice if there are any hexes broken." Draco nodded and scampered off. My son would not lie, thought Lucius.

With a swish of his black robes, he headed toward his study to inform his master.

Draco ran along the familiar corridors of his home. The Silver Room--that has an opening hex on it--Expositus--

He reached the second floor, panting, and walked to the east wing. First room.

The door was open, and the room was empty. Through the window, moonlight shone defiantly onto the monochromatic furnishings. Draco frowned. He had never remembered a window in this room. Another hex broken? he asked himself. He walked around the room, examining it carefully. The sheets were ruffled. The Mudblood must have fallen asleep there. On the floor were tiny splinters of wood.

Broomsticks. Someone rode through the window and came in. "But how?" he thought aloud. Potter and the girl had only wands, unless they transformed something into a broomstick. A Transfiguration wouldn't be messy, though.

His father wouldn't be stupid enough to put a prisoner in a room with a window either. The window must have been hidden. That was why he didn't remember it. And a person inside wouldn't be able to see that. Only a person outside would. So, someone flew in from the outside. But why was the door open? The easiest thing to do would be to fly back out.

Potter had only two wands, and you need something for transfiguration…unless the girl had something in her robes. Yes, that's it. They transfigured things into broomsticks and escaped.

He hurried to his father's study. "Father," he said, opening the door. He bowed in front of Voldemort, hiding his fear of the wizard. "My Lord. The Mudblood is gone. I found splinters on the floor of the room, and the door was open. Potter, I believe, transformed things into broomsticks. The other girl--Lily Evans--must have had something in her robes. They have escaped. They could not have got far," he added apprehensively, fearing the wizards' wrath at this failure. "It will be easy to spot them in the clear night sky. My Lord, I apologize." He kneeled down at Voldemort's feet with his head bowed.

....And caught the sound of footsteps next to the study. He stiffened and got up silently, taking out his wand.

"Mr. Potter." Draco left the room and sided up next to Lucius, smirking, not revealing his astonishment at the large group he saw. Potter and Granger were there, of course, with the girl Lily and Potter's Muggle relatives. However, the Weasley was standing next to them, and the werewolf Lupin was there as well. There were other people Draco did not recognize: a man who stood next to Harry protectively, a hand on his shoulder, and what looked like a replica of Potter but with different eyes. All of the group had their wands out, except the Muggles and the Mudblood. Draco noticed a jar and a beetle in her hand. Rita Skeeter! he thought, remembering the pesky but useful reporter from the most recent semester.

Voldemort came to stand behind him, and he struggled to maintain his composure. Being close to the dark wizard always frightened him, but he tried not to show it. He remembered the first lesson his father had taught him: "To show fear is to be weak." And he could not disappoint his father.

"James Potter," hissed Voldemort, "and Lily Potter. What a pleasant surprise."

Draco's eyes widened. Lily Potter, Harry Potter's mother? But she was dead! So was James Potter, who Draco supposed was the replica of Harry. How...?

"This is between you and me," Harry said, facing Voldemort as he tried to suppress the quavering in his voice from the pain of his scar "Let's duel. If I win or lose--let them go. You want me, you've got me. Just let…just let the others go." He looked down and gasped, then looked back up, his eyes watery. "Let's duel," he repeated, and this time his voice trembled.

Voldemort laughed, high-pitched echoes ringing around the hallway. "Very nice, Harry," he whispered. "So upright. So good." He pointed his wand at Harry. "Expelliarmus," he whispered, and grinned as Harry stared at his empty hand, stunned. "Let's not duel," said Voldemort.

Harry stared at him blankly.

"Brother wands," Voldemort hissed, his red eyes flaring at the memory. "I can't risk that again." He moved closer to Harry, who took a step away from the group and clenched his fists.

Ropes sprang out suddenly from Voldemort's wand, knocking Harry to the ground. He struggled against his bonds. Voldemort stood over him with a fascinated look, as if Harry were an earthworm that he was torturing. "Let's not duel," he whispered gleefully. With the flick of his wand, he slammed Harry against the wall. Harry let out a little cry of pain and slid down to the floor, trying to free himself desperately. Voldemort brushed his cheek lightly with thin white fingers.

"It hurts, Potter, doesn't it? Just like you hurt me fourteen years ago."

"Let them go," he spat. "Take me--"

"Shut up," hissed Voldemort, kicking him over. He turned to face the stunned crowd. Remus was restarining a livid, trembling Sirius. Ron, Hermione, James, and Lily looked over at Harry worriedly, and the Muggles shifted from foot to foot uneasily.

The jar in Hermione's hand exploded suddenly, and shards of glass flew everywhere, cutting her palm. The beetle flew away quickly. Voldemort smiled, pleased. Physical pain was the best from of punishment. Hermione gasped and looked at her freely bleeding hand.

"See the blood that has tainted the world," Voldemort hissed, glaring at her. She said nothing, but gritted her teeth and pulled herself up.

The fat blonde boy looked over at Harry, who caught his eyes and mouthed "RUN!"

Voldemort followed the gaze. "Boy!" he snapped. "I told you to shut up." He went to Harry conjured a gag, which stuffed itself in Harry's mouth violently. Harry choked.

"Which one shall go first?" Voldemort mused. "Draco," he ordered, "come here."

Draco took a tentative step forward. He had been watching the one-sided fight with an unfamiliar sense of pity. Nobody deserved to be treated like that, not even the Mudblood. At school there had always been brawls, but never something that drew blood and hurt someone so terribly. He glanced at Hermione's bloody hand quickly before bowing in front of Voldemort.

"My Lord, what do you command?" How tired he was of saying this. A spark lit his eyes, but he quickly extinguished it. Now was not the time to be rebelling. "Sir?" He looked up at Voldemort.

"Turn around," the Dark Lord ordered, "Tell me which one you hate."

"I hate all of them, sir," Draco answered, surveying the members. His eyes stopped on the man that the werewolf was holding back? His face looked familiar, but Draco could not place him.

"The one you hate the most," Voldemort encouraged. "Potter's closest friend, perhaps, or the one you think would be the greatest danger to me."

Draco hesitated. He had never wanted to kill anyone except Potter in his life. Not even Weasley, in their hot-tempered brawls at school, or Granger, who had stunned instead of angered him with that slap in third year. He did not know the rest very well. Which one is least needed? he asked himself. The Muggles.

"Do the Muggles count?" Draco asked, stalling for time.

"Do not play games with me, Draco," Voldemort snapped impatiently. "I want a challenge, a warning to all the others. The Muggles are ignorant of magic. They do not even believe in it."

"Hurry, Draco," Lucius ordered frigidly.

Potter's voice rang through his head: No, let them go…take me*

"Potter," he answered, looking straight ahead. "I hate Potter." He paused. "And no one else."

Lucius gripped his son's shoulder and dragged him to the wall, opposite Harry. Draco stared at Harry's emerald eyes, filled not with hate, but with pity.

"Draco," Lucius hissed, "what are you doing? He means for you to choose from the group."

"I know, Father. I'm not stupid."

Lucius looked ready to hit him. "You are being so right now," he seethed. "Go--now--say a name. Do not do this to me now, Draco."

Draco shook his father's hand off his shoulder defiantly. "Fine." He walked over to Voldemort, who had been watching the encounter between father and son amusedly.

"My father," Draco told him, staring into the depthless red eyes. "I hate my father."

A/N: Please read and review. I would like to know if you want me to continue the story. Thanks!