Chapter four: Look what I am…
Disclaimer: nope, not mine
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"It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd... Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can't build my hopes on a foundation of confusion, misery and death... And yet... I think... This cruelty will end, and that peace and tranquility will return again." - Anne Frank
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Even when you think everything is going good, that everything is as happy as it can ever be… something jumps out at you.
Something ruins the peace in your tiny little life.
Something goes wrong.
You hear about it everyday, through the unsympathetic and cold television news, through the paper with words that seem to bite and lash at one's soul with the blunt cruelty. Why doesn't anyone help them?
Why can't someone help me?
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Sometimes I wonder why I think it will ever stop, Hermione stared down at the ground filled with mixed feeling of a hatred for them and an anger at herself. Why couldn't she have got here earlier? Why couldn't she have protected him?
On the ground, amid the dirt was a sure indication that Harry was no longer free. He was in the hands of the enemy. She wasn't sure how long he had been… but she hoped she was early enough to save his life if not his sanity.
His belongings had been left on the ground, resting against a log. The fire had been left to die out and send smoke into the air, which was how she found this particular spot. Lowering herself onto a stump, she stared into the remnants of the fire.
It was a cloudless day from what she could see through the foliage. Bright sunshine seemed through the leaves creating spots of light on the mostly shadowed earth. Birds chirped off in the distant, as if there was anything to be happy about on this day. Her world had come crashing down, with her best friend in the hostage of the darkest wizard of all time, along with every person who could possibly help her get him out.
Also, unknown to her, the world's days were about to get considerably darker too…
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Voldemort stood quietly, staring into the empty hearth. Though he wasn't complaining or raging, it was not unknown to everyone in the room that the Wizard before this was holding in large amount of anger.
"And where did they say they were?" Voldemort grumbled out between clenched teeth.
"They said in the letter that they had stopped for food and some fun," the young man who mumbled out the words appeared to be shaking in his leather boots and expensive cloak. He had obviously been put up to it by the older, far more experienced gentlemen in the room, who were cowering in the corners themselves.
"Fun?" Voldemort turned around to eye the young man. "They stopped for food and fun? Mr. Silar and the rest of you fine gentlemen, I am entirely disappointed with your ability to acquire the best army in the land. So far we've had Goblins who eat us out of house and home, wizards who stand around and appear that my mother could kill them, and sadly the order of whatever expensive shipment of this secret weapon that you say I shall be happy with, has stopped for food and fun?"
"Well Sir-" Mr. Silar spoke up but was quickly cut off.
"Shut up, you imbecile, I was not finished. I am entirely disappointed in this whole function that you men have set up and I warn you that is not something you wish to do."
"We never meant-"
"I personally don't care what you meant, Mr. Silar." Voldemort growled, his green eyes flashing with anger. I do know though that we are on a very tight schedule. I need my army and if you don't get it soon I will be very happy to kill you."
"Don't worry, Lord Voldemort," an older gentlemen in the corner spoke up, "we shall have your army soon."
"You better. Now, get out of my face, all of you before I decide to kill you now." Voldemort turned back around to stare into the empty fireplace. He heard a shuffle of coats and quick footsteps retreating from his room. Inwardly he laughed at their cowardice.
Idiots, I'm surrounded by idiots¸ he thought as he raised his wand lighting the fire and settling down into his comfortable leather chair.
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How do you feel when someone pushes you down? When someone keeps you down? It hurts, doesn't it? Feels like you're the lowliest of lows and yet, you insist on pushing others down. Why?
Why do you feel the need to make others hurt?
Never mind, I think I know.
You wish to hide the pain that resides in you…
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Hermione was doing once more what she had seemed to do through most of this trip, stared at her feet. Stared with nothing to but stare and hope that what she had to do would just pop out in front of her. Easy as taking a cookie of a plate, easy as blinking.
For Hermione Granger, things had never been that easy. She always had to be the best, the top and that took work. She always had to be there for her friends, especially Harry, because he always seemed to find himself in some sort of mess never mind the crush she had on him since as long as she could remember. She had always needed to know… and all of this, it took work.
She was constantly striving… and things always seemed just out of her reach.
"He's gone," a quirky, much too energetic voice spoke up. Hermione raised her head to find herself staring into the eyes of a rather small man- nope gnome? Dwarf? Little person? Bright blue eyes stared out at her from amid a smile wrinkled face, covered with salt and peppered hair. He was dressed in a green tunic with small leather shoes. In his hand, he held what appeared to be a piece of cloth. "They took him, I saw."
"What?" Hermione nearly rose to her feet, but then thought better of it. Her height might intimidate the small man. "Which way did they go?"
"They went that way," he quickly pointed left, but thought better of it and pointed right. "Or maybe they did go that way?" he looked quizzically to the left.
"Oh, great," Hermione muttered, running her hands down her face in frustration.
A deep, masculine laugh resounded from behind her. Hermione quickly rose to her feet drawing her wand. The man was clothed in a similar green tunic to the one the gnome was wearing. Black hair fell haphazardly across his vibrant violet eyes. A vicious scar cut jaggedly across his right cheek, barely missing one of his beautiful eyes. "Don't worry," he was still smiling. "I don't wish to harm you, but the hands of the men you seem so eager to reach will not be so kind. I am Tavon and that little guy standing behind you," Hermione glanced behind her to seem the man waving up at her with what she could now distinguish to be his hat, "is Brynn."
"Did you see them too?" Hermione asked, ready to get the information from the two men so she could be off to save her friend.
"Yes, I saw them, but I will not tell you which way they went."
"What? Why not?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You're one of them," She glanced behind her at Brynn, "both of you are." Though it seemed absurd to accuse the small, hyper dwarf of being evil what else would they be if they refused to give her information?
"We are not," Tavon insisted. "We are simply concerned."
Oh?
"We know that the world is in danger. I feel it. I read it in the stars every night, but I cannot stop it myself. Too many others are afraid of the wrath of Voldemort, but I would rather die than live in a world controlled by him and his minions. So, I will help you, but first there is something we must do."
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Be patient…patient… careful… do not rush to die… do not be eager to feel the pain…
SNAP!
A blinding rush of pain shot through his body, pushing out all thoughts of sanity. He felt the blood pooling on his back, seeping into his shirt. He heard the distant laugh of a heartless soul and the ground rushed up to meet him. Hard and cold, but so real compared to this hell he was in.
You know why it feels so good to inflict pain, my dear boy?
Because you are burying yours… hiding it…
Because it lets you know you are superior…
CRACK!
Another sharp slash ripped into him, sending a spasm through his body. His fist clenched in the dirt and he wished he could just leave. He wished he could be six again, a clueless dreamer who sat upon his mothers knee staring into the fire while she read word that made his head spin they were so beautiful…
That beauty was so far away, so tainted by the echoes of time…
I told you, boy, not to rush… I told you the pain would only come quicker. But you're stupid. You don't know anything, especially how to fight with a sword like a pure blood.
Which is why I let you teach me, so one day I can run my sword through you…
I remember my father… He was hard on me too. Always wanting me to be what I couldn't be. Always pushing and shoving.
And look what I am…
Dead…
Draco sat up, his eyes wide with the horror of the dream. He didn't know what recesses of his mind had woven it, but it was a dark part. His father had never hit him, not meaninglessly anyway. And he definitely had never tortured him like that.
What did it mean? Draco wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"Excuse me, Young Malfoy," a knock echoed on his door, before it was pushed open. "Your presence is requested in the Grand Hall, urgent matters. Dress appropriately."
Draco rose to his feet, rummaging through his chest to pull out his expensive dress robe. Though you couldn't tell, it was a plain back material like all the rest with a Slytherin emblem on one arm and the Malfoy crest on the other. Draco donned the robe and slicked back his hair and he was ready for what ever surprise await him.
But nearly prepared enough for the one that sat waiting in the Grand Hall…
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So, what do we do, you wonder? Absolutely nothing. People like you and me, what amazing feats and accomplishments lying waiting in our future?
Then you think, have you lost your mind?
We may be the defining element in this whole war. We maybe the ones to set things straight… to help…
And all the while we though we were going to sit there and wait for our future to slap us in the face.
Pull on your boots, friend, we're going for a walk…
And it's going to be rocky.
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Okay, I tried to make this one longer. Hope you all liked it. Hmm, I wonder what's going on. So many cliff hangers and where's Harry?? You'll just have to wait for the next installment, hopefully it won't take as long as this one to come out.
Dedicated to: those who reach for all they're worth.
Okay, at least 28, and thirty if you're very nice. Crosses fingers, closes eyes tightly and
WISHES!!
Come on guys, I have goals to meet.
Good day… and
May the road rise to meet you.
