Chapter 2: Strangers
The shimmering golden light flooded in through a crack in the polished wooden window. The gleaming ray glided across the cold, stone floor, illuminating the thinning clouds of dust, which were floating in the warm air of dawn. The red and gold drapes glowed with a subtle sparkle, extenuating their rich texture. A light, fleeting breeze sailed in, fluttering the heavy curtains in their silky softness.
A pale, white face lay silhouetted against the white, linen bed-sheet, his flaxen hair swimming in the bright sunlight. Draco opened his eyes slowly, and sat up. For a minute he did not recognize his surroundings...what had happened to his room?...then it all came back to him in a rush of memories.
He was in school- the Gryffindor dormitory...with Potter.... The Charm...Omega...the prophecies...his parent's death...the heir of Slytherin...it all engulfed him now.
The back of his eyes prickled and his throat felt dry...he was overcome with weakness...almost...
He shook himself...he could not afford to be weak...his father hated weakness...he had to make his father proud of him...he had to be his father's son...his father was his hero...his parents had been brave...both were heroes...they had died serving a cause...serving the Dark Lord...they were on the right side...they had worked a died for the good of the magical world- to purge it of the filth of mudbloods.
But then the crazy, old git Dumbledore had said that the Dark Lord himself was a half-blood...his parents had bowed before a half-blood to rid the world of half-bloods and mudbloods? How could that be true? His parents could not be hypocrites...they could never be blood traitors...or could they? Had they died in vain? Had they betrayed their kind? He could not believe it...would not believe it...did not want to believe it...
People said many things...they said that his father was a traitor...that he tortured people just to hear them scream in pain...that it gave him pleasure to kill...to cause disorder and chaos...Draco remembered the blood in the dungeons...the screams which woke him up many times at night...was it all his father's doing?
Well last night I saw you sneak out your window
With your white hood, daddy What's that say about you?
Were they right about his father?
No! Of course not! Draco felt ashamed at his thoughts...how could he ever think otherwise about his parents? He knew them better than anyone else...he knew that they were brave people who had sacrificed everything for the good of the world...that crazy old fool and his faithful sidekick, Potter had no idea what they were talking about...
In the back of his mind, Draco knew that he did no totally believe this...he really could not understand what was right and what was wrong...he was proud of his parents and he loved them...but it fluctuated...at times he was not sure what he felt for them...he did not want to admit it, but he felt scared now...alone and scared...and confused...he hated this feeling of being confused...of being unsure...
His confusion turned to anger and he ripped the curtains away from around his bed. He got up and dressed. Casually he glanced towards Harry's bed and was surprised to see that Harry was gone. He thought that Harry would still be asleep. It seemed as if Potter had had a bad night...screaming out names, and tossing and turning...how could perfect Potter with his perfect life have nightmares?
Pushing all thoughts of Harry out of his mind, Draco walked out through the portrait hole. He needed answers...he wanted answers...he needed to think about his problems...not Potter and his petty nightmares...who would he go to for answers...Who? ...certainly not Dumbledore...that senile old git who flaunted his stupidity at every chance he got....what about Snape?...No...Snape was a traitor...he had betrayed Draco's parents...Than it came to him
Potter!...Of course! He would have no problems getting answers from otter, who always wanted to show of his knowledge in any case...and plus they were in this together no matter what...yes...he would talk to Potter...maybe...
With this contradicting thoughts and half a mind to talk to Harry, Draco made his way towards the Great Hall. As he walked down the stone passageway, the ancient walls warm from the summer heat, Draco caught the faint fragrance of flowers wafting by with the heavy air. This made his think a bit...he had never really seen Hogwarts at summer...he glanced out the wide glass covered windows. The Quidditch pitch was carpeted with a thick layer of bright green grass, gently swaying in the wind...it looked...well...it almost looked...nice.
His pleasant train of thoughts broke as he saw two of his least favorite people walking towards him- Dumbledore and Potter. Dumbledore smiled, "Good morning, Draco. We were just about to get you. I have something very important to talk to you about. Your training will start soon; and two of your instructors are due to arrive this morning...in fact they should be here anytime now.
"After introductions I will take you to the room where you will commence your training..." here he was interrupted by the loud crashing sound made by the tall oak front doors, as two people walked in. The bright light that streamed into the room, blinded the two boys momentarily, making it hard for them to make out who he new arrivals were.
A moment later the door was shut and they got their first glimpse of the visitors. Draco froze in his tracks and blinked, and Harry felt slightly surprised, as they both saw the wooden face, with the large chunk missing from the nose, and long grizzled hair falling all around it...the face of their ex-DADA teacher...Mad-Eye Moody! Beside Moody, looking quite as disheveled as him, stood a broad, square-jawed witch with very short, gray hair, and a monocle on her eye. Harry instantly recognized the forbidding looking woman to be none other than Madam Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
He looked sideways at Draco, and saw him staring at Moody with a strange expression on his face...he nudged Draco, who snapped out of his trance like state. Draco looked at him and frowned. Then Draco rolled his eyes, and Harry saw him shoot a quizzical glance at Madam Bones.
"That's Madam Bones," whispered Harry, "she's the Head of—"
Here Draco interrupted him, "I didn't ask you, Potter. You can tell me when I do."
Feeling immensely annoyed, Harry turned away.
"Harry, Draco this is Alastor Moody, and this, "Dumbledore gestured towards the witch, "this is Madam Amelia Bones. They will be your main trainers, and your teachers will also take part in your training. I expect you will not give them or your teachers any trouble, and I trust you to treat them with utmost respect," this last part he said with a significant look towards Draco, who was staring at Moody rather insolently. "Now I would like you all to please follow me..."
Grey hair fluttering in the warm breeze and lips set in a thin line, Amelia Bones walked stiffly down the ancient corridors, along with the others. Her short confident footsteps echoed on the rough solid walls. But behind that cool crisp exterior was the soft, caring mind of a woman.
Despite her outward show of nonchalance she was worried. She had mentored many witches and wizards into skillful Aurors and had witnessed them battling death. Harry and Draco were half their age, but they were still expected to do the same. She inwardly shuddered at the very thought of two young children being forced to fight a battle which even grown witches and wizards feared to fight.
She glanced sideways at Harry and Draco...Their faces were blank- expressionless. She inwardly shivered...why, she did not really understand. But maybe it was because of the unfairness of the situation- Harry and Draco were far too young to have this hard, cold maturity in them- they should not be so cautious...so guarded...as if protecting themselves from some unseen foe...Or may be it was because of the inevitability of it all- no matter how young they were, no matter how unfair it was, the lack of innocence was necessary for the Fate they were destined to face...or maybe it was because of he dark shadow that briefly flickered across Harry's clear emerald eyes, or the tinge of nervousness that clouded Draco's steely gray ones like a thin curtain of transparent mist....
Was it fear she saw?
But another glance at their sharp, chiseled faces, painted with focused calmness, Amelia was convinced otherwise...
His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready -Eminem
She had known their father very well, both professionally and personally. They had been men of extremes and it was a pity that they had also been men of irony...Identical in blood, power and wealth, with mirrored traits of bravery, dignity, and cunning, they had chosen different paths, each leading to the extremes of good and evil. They were on different sides of the war. One was right and was wrong. But in the end, they had both fought bravely for what they believed in...and died.
Would their sons be able to do the same? Would they be able to battle with death like their fathers before them? Would they be able to survive, while their fathers had not?
She stole a glance at them again. They were the split image of their fathers. But somehow they were very different from them. Their fathers never had the lines of stress scarring their faces like Harry and Draco, they did no have the intensity in their eyes or the fortified tightness of their muscles.
Their fathers never had their maturity.
No matter how great wizards they had been, no matter how grand responsibilities they had borne, they had maintained their naiveté till the end. They always had a simplified, black and white idea of good and evil. But Amelia thought their sons were different, and Amelia was usually right. Looking at their young yet experienced faces, Amelia had the impression of resigned acceptance of the reality of life and the shades of gray that coloured it.
Yes. Their sons were different from them.
They were strangers to her.
They were men who would survive while their fathers had not.
This time both the sons were right and the irony of Fate was lost.
The bright red sun smiled down upon the land. Birds sat on the swaying tree- tops, their lulling songs drifting in the mild draft. Rainbow coloured flowers danced about in the sailing wind. Foams of fluffy white clouds floated around on the unmarred blue sky, playing a gleeful game of hide-and- seek. Nature was happy and peaceful.
It feels so good to realize
What's in yourself and within your mind Lets find peace there -Creed
Peace.
Harry had forgotten how that felt. Looking at the happiness around him, he felt anything but peaceful. It frustrated him. It made him feel trapped...he was trapped in his own mind. He was trapped by everything and everyone around him.
Worst of all was that he was trapped alone...alone in a lonely shell of guilt, pain and...responsibility.
Kill or be killed
He felt claustrophobic. How will he defeat Voldemort?
Darkness shall cover the land...
And even if he did, how many lives will be lost before it.
The will of people shall break
All hope shall fail
What price had to be paid?
Not Harry! Please not Harry!
Kill the spare
Sirius is d—
Kill me instead!
The price was too high. But it would be worth it! Harry would make it worth it! He vowed to avenge every ruined life, every untimely death, and every drop of wasted blood.
They would be the ultimate warriors
He would be the weapon everyone expected him to be. He would Dumbledore's tool. He would make sure no one had to suffer the way he had, even if it meant his own destruction.
I'm careless, I believe
Above all the others we'll fly
This brings tears to my eyes
My sacrifice
-Creed
The power the Dark Lord knows not
The secret power
Now he knew that he had a chance of winning against Voldemort. He had a chance of defeating him.
But he would not make the same mistake again. Never again will he let anyone get as close to him as Sirius had. He had hardened himself. It was for everyone's good...everyone who loved him died...while he survived...he could no take it anymore.
He would not feel anymore. He would not love again. He just had to kill Voldemort, and avenge those he had ever loved- his mother, his father and Sirius.
The power the Dark Lord knows not
He does not understand love
Your mother's love destroyed him
How the Fate's laughed at the irony.
The tall mahogany doors creaked open and the five people walked in. The room was enormous, with its wooden floor stretching for hundreds of meters. Thousands of books and strange looking equipment lined the white marble walls. Remus, McGonagall, and Flitwick were sitting in the far corner of the room, in comfy looking green sofas.
"This is the ancient Training Room of Hogwarts." Said Dumbledore looking around the room. "It was originally built for the dueling practices between Slytherin and Gryffindor, when they had still been friends...you two shall be trained here, if you wish to of course..." Dumbledore looked expectantly at Harry and Draco.
Two heroes shall emerge
Kill the spare
The ultimate warriors
Sirius was d—
The secret power
"I do." said Harry almost fiercely.
We've seen our share of ups and downs Oh! How quickly life can turn around In an instant -Creed
Draco looked as if he was in deep thought. After a few tensed seconds, he nodded stiffly.
Dumbledore looked quite pleased. "Your training shall start from ten o' clock tomorrow morning. Now I have something important to discuss with you teachers..."
Taking the hint Harry and Draco stood up and left.
Madam Bones watched silently as Dumbledore sat looking as if he was in deep thought. She vaguely wondered what he was thinking about when Alastor spoke up. He was gruff and impatient as usual.
"Get on with it, Albus."
Dumbledore looked up through his half-moon spectacle. He seemed to be contemplating on what to say. After a few seconds, he straightened in his chair and began, "Before the training begins, we should have a talk about your students. Harry and Draco are extraordina—"
Moody interrupted him rather rudely, "We know Albus...I admit Potter's a decent lad; but I'm not so sure about the Malfoy boy. I still don't understand why we're training him. He's a death eater's son! He'll just turn against us and kill us all...I reckon old Trelawney made another false prediction..." He drew breath and looked expectantly at Albus. The other teachers, namely, Lupin, Flitwick and McGonagall, squirmed uncomfortably in their seats but no one spoke. After all, it was not everyday that someone so blatantly criticized Dumbledore.
Moody's outburst was greeted by Dumbledore's calm gaze. He remained quiet and continued to watch, as if waiting for someone else to speak. When no one said anything and Moody started to look triumphant, Amelia spoke up.
"Alastor, Draco is just sixteen. It's hardly fair to judge him now. You can not possibly say that he'll go running to You-Know-Who the first chance he gets."
"Oh yes I can! He's Lucius Malfoy's son! The son of a Death Eater!!" Moody was excited. She observed a hint of his obsessive hatred towards Dark Wizards.
"So you're judging him by his father are you?" said Amelia more coldly than she had intended. "I thought that was the sort of prejudice we fight against. Blood isn't supposed to matter." Why was she getting so defensive of the boy anyways?
"Gah! You Wizengamont people are all the same! Blood doesn't matter when it comes to magic. Everyone is worthy of studying magic. But when it comes to character, blood most definitely matters! Like father like son."
"Look at the Crouches. Father was the Head of Magical Law Enforcement and the son was a Death Eater. They had no similarities what so ever." said Amelia calmly.
"There's where you're wrong. They chose different paths, but they were VERY similar. They both went for power. They were both determined, shrewd and devoted to their cause. Didn't have similarities, my foot!" Did she mention that Alastor also had an obsessive hatred for power-hungry people?
"Draco is not like his father." Said Amelia stubbornly.
"Even if he's not like his father, although I don't doubt that he is, he has his father's beliefs. Even you can't deny the power of upbringing."
"Sirius defied his."
"He was an exception."
"So is Draco."
"How do you know? You never even so much as talked to the boy!"
Alastor was right of course, but Amelia was not about to give up. "I see the differences."
"Oh do you now." He smirked. "Well, I see none." Growled Moody.
Amelia raised her eyebrow and opened her mouth to retort, when Remus interjected. "May be should just watch for now. Give Draco a chance..." He trailed off as Moody and Bones both looked sharply at him.
Dumbledore, who had remained quiet throughout the entire conversation, cleared his throat and spoke up in a clear hard tone. He looked a bit distant and regretful as he said, "The prophecies have spoken. Ironic as it is, two strangers shall be united. One will be redeemed and the other will find salvation...Fate has been unveiled and there is no one to question her..." No one said anything, although Moody and Bones continued to look mutinously at each other. Taking their silence as mutual agreement to end their argument, Dumbledore continued, "Now, lets move on to setting the curriculum..."
Harry and Draco walked along the corridor side by side, each immersed in their own thoughts. Suddenly Draco stopped and turned to face Harry. He leveled his gaze with Harry's and said, "Having trouble sleeping, Potter?" Draco flashed a grin at him, and his eyes glinted, although they lacked their usual malice. There was only a hint of genuine curiosity.
Unfortunately, Harry who had far too much on his mind did not notice this subtle change. His features tightened and he snapped at Draco. "What do you mean, Malfoy? Or is this another of your brainless remarks with which you're trying to provoke me?"
"You wish, Potter...I'm just mentioning it because your whiny screams didn't let me sleep last night..." Draco raised his voice to a high pitch, "No! Not Sirius! Mom! Dad! No! Let them go! Please not Cedric!" Draco doubled up with laughter. And Harry shot him a dark look of barely concealed disgust and malice. However, even through his amused hilarity, Draco noticed something else...was it sadness? Hurt? Pain? He unconsciously stopped laughing as he contemplated the look in Harry's eyes, more seriously then he would like to admit.
His eyes betrayed what his face had thus far concealed.
Then Draco seemed to realize that he was actually spending his precious time feeling something akin to sympathy towards Potter. Ashamed of himself, he pushed these disturbing thoughts out of his mind, just in time to hear Harry speaking again.
"You can laugh all you want, Malfoy...I mean, what would you know about love? If your mother loved you, then she wouldn't have that disgusted look on her face when you're around."
Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Harry cut his off, "You can mock me Malfoy. I honestly don't care anymore. But don't you dare mock those who have died...I loved them. But you won't understand that anyways." Harry finished, his voice as cold and sharp as the edges of a finely chiseled diamond, and stalked off in the opposite direction.
Draco watched Harry's retreating figure and wondered about what he had said. He knew that they were meant as petty insults- taunts that were meant to provoke, not hurt, but hurt they did.
There was more truth to Harry's words then he had known.
Was it true? He understood that his parents had given him everything that he had ever wanted, every object that he had ever wished for. They had spoiled with all the showering bounties of luxury...it had seemed to him that his parents had loved him...it had seemed so...
Father... In your thoughts forsaken me In your heart forsaken me In your eyes forsaken me...
But was it really love? After all, their "love" had always exposed itself in the form of materialistic goods, never in the shape of heartfelt emotions... Their love was always superficial... This made him wonder. Had his parents really felt for him, or was it all merely an obligatory provision of materials instigated by the mandatory duties of parenthood?
His father, who was his hero and idol, had always meant everything to him...but he had never...well to tell the truth...his father had never been his friend. Look at the Weaselys. They were poor, unsophisticated blood traitors; but despite it all, they seemed to be a happy family... They seemed to be friends...
Was that what love was all about? To know each other? To spend time together? Draco mentally snorted. If that was so, then his parents had definitely NOT loved him. They were always too busy with work, and politics. They never talked to him. They had conversations, verbal interactions, yes. But they never really talked to him. And they definitely did not spend time with him, except for the times where they taught him manners and etiquette, that is...
But the Weasleys, on the other hand, always seemed to have time for each other...What would it have been like if had Weasley as his father, Draco wondered silently...
Then may be he would not have spent all those lonely nights, wishing, hoping for a bit of attention from his parents...then maybe he would not have spent all that time wondering around, lost and scared in a cold, empty castle...then maybe he would not have spent his childhood, crying for a bit of care...
Father... Trust in my self-righteous suicide I cry when angels deserve to die...
It wasn't like he still felt bad about it now. And it wasn't like he was jealous of the Weasleys or anything. He would never be jealous of the Weasleys of all people! He was a Malfoy, after all. He was above all that.
But he couldn't help but wonder if Potter was right. Draco suddenly realized what he was thinking, and was amazed at himself...how could he, even for a minute, believe that Potter could be even close to be being right??!! Potter couldn't know anything about love...he didn't even have parents.
But he has friends. Said a treacherous voice at the back of mind. Even though Potter had friends like that know-it-all mudblood Granger and crude, pauper Weasley, their friendship was a mutual relationship of shared respect. They all liked each other...
It wasn't like Draco didn't have "friends". He had many people fawning all over him, and worshiping the ground he walked on, but he didn't care about them...not one bit...they were a waste of time...he just put up with them for the sake of maintaining his father's "political alliances". Those blubbering idiot, who followed him around all over the place, were nothing but pawns in a vicious cycle of power struggle. They were inferior to him. He was a Malfoy. He needed someone who was an equal, to be friends...
These thoughts were giving him a headache. He blinked and shook his head, as if to clear his mind, only to realize he was standing on the Quidditch Pitch.
The Quidditch Pitch.
Flying.
That was where he belonged. Flying across the blue sky, relishing the touch of the snug, warm summer air, on his face. He loved souring above the lucid sapphire lake, glinting and swaying in a rhythmic ballet of azure crystalline water. The freshness and freedom of the altitude washed away his worries, in a gust of purifying draft.
I want a break, and want to put this stress aside But above all things I want to lay by the Oceanside The ocean waves, no other way, get away Well I'm finding! Oh no, my daily worries want to drift away, Fine! Dying and trying just to find some sort of peace of mind Now's the time, to get away, I'm going away -Authority Zero
Moody and Amelia sat in front of Dumbledore's desk, sipping cups of tea. They had just finished setting the curriculum for Harry and Draco's extra training lessons. Now, after a tiring day, they were finally enjoying a peaceful time in each other's company. Even with the pressure of the war and the surrounding darkness, all three of them felt happy and content to be with old friends. Just as Moody was about to take another sip from his cup, a tawny owl flew in through the open window. It landed swiftly in Dumbledore's shoulder and extended its legs for the attached letter to be removed. Dumbledore took the letter and unfolded it. As he finished reading the letter, a slight smile formed on his lips. He looked up and said, "It's from Remus...She has arrived safely, and will soon be joined by her friend..."
Moody and Amelia smiled.
The shimmering golden light flooded in through a crack in the polished wooden window. The gleaming ray glided across the cold, stone floor, illuminating the thinning clouds of dust, which were floating in the warm air of dawn. The red and gold drapes glowed with a subtle sparkle, extenuating their rich texture. A light, fleeting breeze sailed in, fluttering the heavy curtains in their silky softness.
A pale, white face lay silhouetted against the white, linen bed-sheet, his flaxen hair swimming in the bright sunlight. Draco opened his eyes slowly, and sat up. For a minute he did not recognize his surroundings...what had happened to his room?...then it all came back to him in a rush of memories.
He was in school- the Gryffindor dormitory...with Potter.... The Charm...Omega...the prophecies...his parent's death...the heir of Slytherin...it all engulfed him now.
The back of his eyes prickled and his throat felt dry...he was overcome with weakness...almost...
He shook himself...he could not afford to be weak...his father hated weakness...he had to make his father proud of him...he had to be his father's son...his father was his hero...his parents had been brave...both were heroes...they had died serving a cause...serving the Dark Lord...they were on the right side...they had worked a died for the good of the magical world- to purge it of the filth of mudbloods.
But then the crazy, old git Dumbledore had said that the Dark Lord himself was a half-blood...his parents had bowed before a half-blood to rid the world of half-bloods and mudbloods? How could that be true? His parents could not be hypocrites...they could never be blood traitors...or could they? Had they died in vain? Had they betrayed their kind? He could not believe it...would not believe it...did not want to believe it...
People said many things...they said that his father was a traitor...that he tortured people just to hear them scream in pain...that it gave him pleasure to kill...to cause disorder and chaos...Draco remembered the blood in the dungeons...the screams which woke him up many times at night...was it all his father's doing?
Well last night I saw you sneak out your window
With your white hood, daddy What's that say about you?
Were they right about his father?
No! Of course not! Draco felt ashamed at his thoughts...how could he ever think otherwise about his parents? He knew them better than anyone else...he knew that they were brave people who had sacrificed everything for the good of the world...that crazy old fool and his faithful sidekick, Potter had no idea what they were talking about...
In the back of his mind, Draco knew that he did no totally believe this...he really could not understand what was right and what was wrong...he was proud of his parents and he loved them...but it fluctuated...at times he was not sure what he felt for them...he did not want to admit it, but he felt scared now...alone and scared...and confused...he hated this feeling of being confused...of being unsure...
His confusion turned to anger and he ripped the curtains away from around his bed. He got up and dressed. Casually he glanced towards Harry's bed and was surprised to see that Harry was gone. He thought that Harry would still be asleep. It seemed as if Potter had had a bad night...screaming out names, and tossing and turning...how could perfect Potter with his perfect life have nightmares?
Pushing all thoughts of Harry out of his mind, Draco walked out through the portrait hole. He needed answers...he wanted answers...he needed to think about his problems...not Potter and his petty nightmares...who would he go to for answers...Who? ...certainly not Dumbledore...that senile old git who flaunted his stupidity at every chance he got....what about Snape?...No...Snape was a traitor...he had betrayed Draco's parents...Than it came to him
Potter!...Of course! He would have no problems getting answers from otter, who always wanted to show of his knowledge in any case...and plus they were in this together no matter what...yes...he would talk to Potter...maybe...
With this contradicting thoughts and half a mind to talk to Harry, Draco made his way towards the Great Hall. As he walked down the stone passageway, the ancient walls warm from the summer heat, Draco caught the faint fragrance of flowers wafting by with the heavy air. This made his think a bit...he had never really seen Hogwarts at summer...he glanced out the wide glass covered windows. The Quidditch pitch was carpeted with a thick layer of bright green grass, gently swaying in the wind...it looked...well...it almost looked...nice.
His pleasant train of thoughts broke as he saw two of his least favorite people walking towards him- Dumbledore and Potter. Dumbledore smiled, "Good morning, Draco. We were just about to get you. I have something very important to talk to you about. Your training will start soon; and two of your instructors are due to arrive this morning...in fact they should be here anytime now.
"After introductions I will take you to the room where you will commence your training..." here he was interrupted by the loud crashing sound made by the tall oak front doors, as two people walked in. The bright light that streamed into the room, blinded the two boys momentarily, making it hard for them to make out who he new arrivals were.
A moment later the door was shut and they got their first glimpse of the visitors. Draco froze in his tracks and blinked, and Harry felt slightly surprised, as they both saw the wooden face, with the large chunk missing from the nose, and long grizzled hair falling all around it...the face of their ex-DADA teacher...Mad-Eye Moody! Beside Moody, looking quite as disheveled as him, stood a broad, square-jawed witch with very short, gray hair, and a monocle on her eye. Harry instantly recognized the forbidding looking woman to be none other than Madam Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
He looked sideways at Draco, and saw him staring at Moody with a strange expression on his face...he nudged Draco, who snapped out of his trance like state. Draco looked at him and frowned. Then Draco rolled his eyes, and Harry saw him shoot a quizzical glance at Madam Bones.
"That's Madam Bones," whispered Harry, "she's the Head of—"
Here Draco interrupted him, "I didn't ask you, Potter. You can tell me when I do."
Feeling immensely annoyed, Harry turned away.
"Harry, Draco this is Alastor Moody, and this, "Dumbledore gestured towards the witch, "this is Madam Amelia Bones. They will be your main trainers, and your teachers will also take part in your training. I expect you will not give them or your teachers any trouble, and I trust you to treat them with utmost respect," this last part he said with a significant look towards Draco, who was staring at Moody rather insolently. "Now I would like you all to please follow me..."
Grey hair fluttering in the warm breeze and lips set in a thin line, Amelia Bones walked stiffly down the ancient corridors, along with the others. Her short confident footsteps echoed on the rough solid walls. But behind that cool crisp exterior was the soft, caring mind of a woman.
Despite her outward show of nonchalance she was worried. She had mentored many witches and wizards into skillful Aurors and had witnessed them battling death. Harry and Draco were half their age, but they were still expected to do the same. She inwardly shuddered at the very thought of two young children being forced to fight a battle which even grown witches and wizards feared to fight.
She glanced sideways at Harry and Draco...Their faces were blank- expressionless. She inwardly shivered...why, she did not really understand. But maybe it was because of the unfairness of the situation- Harry and Draco were far too young to have this hard, cold maturity in them- they should not be so cautious...so guarded...as if protecting themselves from some unseen foe...Or may be it was because of the inevitability of it all- no matter how young they were, no matter how unfair it was, the lack of innocence was necessary for the Fate they were destined to face...or maybe it was because of he dark shadow that briefly flickered across Harry's clear emerald eyes, or the tinge of nervousness that clouded Draco's steely gray ones like a thin curtain of transparent mist....
Was it fear she saw?
But another glance at their sharp, chiseled faces, painted with focused calmness, Amelia was convinced otherwise...
His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready -Eminem
She had known their father very well, both professionally and personally. They had been men of extremes and it was a pity that they had also been men of irony...Identical in blood, power and wealth, with mirrored traits of bravery, dignity, and cunning, they had chosen different paths, each leading to the extremes of good and evil. They were on different sides of the war. One was right and was wrong. But in the end, they had both fought bravely for what they believed in...and died.
Would their sons be able to do the same? Would they be able to battle with death like their fathers before them? Would they be able to survive, while their fathers had not?
She stole a glance at them again. They were the split image of their fathers. But somehow they were very different from them. Their fathers never had the lines of stress scarring their faces like Harry and Draco, they did no have the intensity in their eyes or the fortified tightness of their muscles.
Their fathers never had their maturity.
No matter how great wizards they had been, no matter how grand responsibilities they had borne, they had maintained their naiveté till the end. They always had a simplified, black and white idea of good and evil. But Amelia thought their sons were different, and Amelia was usually right. Looking at their young yet experienced faces, Amelia had the impression of resigned acceptance of the reality of life and the shades of gray that coloured it.
Yes. Their sons were different from them.
They were strangers to her.
They were men who would survive while their fathers had not.
This time both the sons were right and the irony of Fate was lost.
The bright red sun smiled down upon the land. Birds sat on the swaying tree- tops, their lulling songs drifting in the mild draft. Rainbow coloured flowers danced about in the sailing wind. Foams of fluffy white clouds floated around on the unmarred blue sky, playing a gleeful game of hide-and- seek. Nature was happy and peaceful.
It feels so good to realize
What's in yourself and within your mind Lets find peace there -Creed
Peace.
Harry had forgotten how that felt. Looking at the happiness around him, he felt anything but peaceful. It frustrated him. It made him feel trapped...he was trapped in his own mind. He was trapped by everything and everyone around him.
Worst of all was that he was trapped alone...alone in a lonely shell of guilt, pain and...responsibility.
Kill or be killed
He felt claustrophobic. How will he defeat Voldemort?
Darkness shall cover the land...
And even if he did, how many lives will be lost before it.
The will of people shall break
All hope shall fail
What price had to be paid?
Not Harry! Please not Harry!
Kill the spare
Sirius is d—
Kill me instead!
The price was too high. But it would be worth it! Harry would make it worth it! He vowed to avenge every ruined life, every untimely death, and every drop of wasted blood.
They would be the ultimate warriors
He would be the weapon everyone expected him to be. He would Dumbledore's tool. He would make sure no one had to suffer the way he had, even if it meant his own destruction.
I'm careless, I believe
Above all the others we'll fly
This brings tears to my eyes
My sacrifice
-Creed
The power the Dark Lord knows not
The secret power
Now he knew that he had a chance of winning against Voldemort. He had a chance of defeating him.
But he would not make the same mistake again. Never again will he let anyone get as close to him as Sirius had. He had hardened himself. It was for everyone's good...everyone who loved him died...while he survived...he could no take it anymore.
He would not feel anymore. He would not love again. He just had to kill Voldemort, and avenge those he had ever loved- his mother, his father and Sirius.
The power the Dark Lord knows not
He does not understand love
Your mother's love destroyed him
How the Fate's laughed at the irony.
The tall mahogany doors creaked open and the five people walked in. The room was enormous, with its wooden floor stretching for hundreds of meters. Thousands of books and strange looking equipment lined the white marble walls. Remus, McGonagall, and Flitwick were sitting in the far corner of the room, in comfy looking green sofas.
"This is the ancient Training Room of Hogwarts." Said Dumbledore looking around the room. "It was originally built for the dueling practices between Slytherin and Gryffindor, when they had still been friends...you two shall be trained here, if you wish to of course..." Dumbledore looked expectantly at Harry and Draco.
Two heroes shall emerge
Kill the spare
The ultimate warriors
Sirius was d—
The secret power
"I do." said Harry almost fiercely.
We've seen our share of ups and downs Oh! How quickly life can turn around In an instant -Creed
Draco looked as if he was in deep thought. After a few tensed seconds, he nodded stiffly.
Dumbledore looked quite pleased. "Your training shall start from ten o' clock tomorrow morning. Now I have something important to discuss with you teachers..."
Taking the hint Harry and Draco stood up and left.
Madam Bones watched silently as Dumbledore sat looking as if he was in deep thought. She vaguely wondered what he was thinking about when Alastor spoke up. He was gruff and impatient as usual.
"Get on with it, Albus."
Dumbledore looked up through his half-moon spectacle. He seemed to be contemplating on what to say. After a few seconds, he straightened in his chair and began, "Before the training begins, we should have a talk about your students. Harry and Draco are extraordina—"
Moody interrupted him rather rudely, "We know Albus...I admit Potter's a decent lad; but I'm not so sure about the Malfoy boy. I still don't understand why we're training him. He's a death eater's son! He'll just turn against us and kill us all...I reckon old Trelawney made another false prediction..." He drew breath and looked expectantly at Albus. The other teachers, namely, Lupin, Flitwick and McGonagall, squirmed uncomfortably in their seats but no one spoke. After all, it was not everyday that someone so blatantly criticized Dumbledore.
Moody's outburst was greeted by Dumbledore's calm gaze. He remained quiet and continued to watch, as if waiting for someone else to speak. When no one said anything and Moody started to look triumphant, Amelia spoke up.
"Alastor, Draco is just sixteen. It's hardly fair to judge him now. You can not possibly say that he'll go running to You-Know-Who the first chance he gets."
"Oh yes I can! He's Lucius Malfoy's son! The son of a Death Eater!!" Moody was excited. She observed a hint of his obsessive hatred towards Dark Wizards.
"So you're judging him by his father are you?" said Amelia more coldly than she had intended. "I thought that was the sort of prejudice we fight against. Blood isn't supposed to matter." Why was she getting so defensive of the boy anyways?
"Gah! You Wizengamont people are all the same! Blood doesn't matter when it comes to magic. Everyone is worthy of studying magic. But when it comes to character, blood most definitely matters! Like father like son."
"Look at the Crouches. Father was the Head of Magical Law Enforcement and the son was a Death Eater. They had no similarities what so ever." said Amelia calmly.
"There's where you're wrong. They chose different paths, but they were VERY similar. They both went for power. They were both determined, shrewd and devoted to their cause. Didn't have similarities, my foot!" Did she mention that Alastor also had an obsessive hatred for power-hungry people?
"Draco is not like his father." Said Amelia stubbornly.
"Even if he's not like his father, although I don't doubt that he is, he has his father's beliefs. Even you can't deny the power of upbringing."
"Sirius defied his."
"He was an exception."
"So is Draco."
"How do you know? You never even so much as talked to the boy!"
Alastor was right of course, but Amelia was not about to give up. "I see the differences."
"Oh do you now." He smirked. "Well, I see none." Growled Moody.
Amelia raised her eyebrow and opened her mouth to retort, when Remus interjected. "May be should just watch for now. Give Draco a chance..." He trailed off as Moody and Bones both looked sharply at him.
Dumbledore, who had remained quiet throughout the entire conversation, cleared his throat and spoke up in a clear hard tone. He looked a bit distant and regretful as he said, "The prophecies have spoken. Ironic as it is, two strangers shall be united. One will be redeemed and the other will find salvation...Fate has been unveiled and there is no one to question her..." No one said anything, although Moody and Bones continued to look mutinously at each other. Taking their silence as mutual agreement to end their argument, Dumbledore continued, "Now, lets move on to setting the curriculum..."
Harry and Draco walked along the corridor side by side, each immersed in their own thoughts. Suddenly Draco stopped and turned to face Harry. He leveled his gaze with Harry's and said, "Having trouble sleeping, Potter?" Draco flashed a grin at him, and his eyes glinted, although they lacked their usual malice. There was only a hint of genuine curiosity.
Unfortunately, Harry who had far too much on his mind did not notice this subtle change. His features tightened and he snapped at Draco. "What do you mean, Malfoy? Or is this another of your brainless remarks with which you're trying to provoke me?"
"You wish, Potter...I'm just mentioning it because your whiny screams didn't let me sleep last night..." Draco raised his voice to a high pitch, "No! Not Sirius! Mom! Dad! No! Let them go! Please not Cedric!" Draco doubled up with laughter. And Harry shot him a dark look of barely concealed disgust and malice. However, even through his amused hilarity, Draco noticed something else...was it sadness? Hurt? Pain? He unconsciously stopped laughing as he contemplated the look in Harry's eyes, more seriously then he would like to admit.
His eyes betrayed what his face had thus far concealed.
Then Draco seemed to realize that he was actually spending his precious time feeling something akin to sympathy towards Potter. Ashamed of himself, he pushed these disturbing thoughts out of his mind, just in time to hear Harry speaking again.
"You can laugh all you want, Malfoy...I mean, what would you know about love? If your mother loved you, then she wouldn't have that disgusted look on her face when you're around."
Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Harry cut his off, "You can mock me Malfoy. I honestly don't care anymore. But don't you dare mock those who have died...I loved them. But you won't understand that anyways." Harry finished, his voice as cold and sharp as the edges of a finely chiseled diamond, and stalked off in the opposite direction.
Draco watched Harry's retreating figure and wondered about what he had said. He knew that they were meant as petty insults- taunts that were meant to provoke, not hurt, but hurt they did.
There was more truth to Harry's words then he had known.
Was it true? He understood that his parents had given him everything that he had ever wanted, every object that he had ever wished for. They had spoiled with all the showering bounties of luxury...it had seemed to him that his parents had loved him...it had seemed so...
Father... In your thoughts forsaken me In your heart forsaken me In your eyes forsaken me...
But was it really love? After all, their "love" had always exposed itself in the form of materialistic goods, never in the shape of heartfelt emotions... Their love was always superficial... This made him wonder. Had his parents really felt for him, or was it all merely an obligatory provision of materials instigated by the mandatory duties of parenthood?
His father, who was his hero and idol, had always meant everything to him...but he had never...well to tell the truth...his father had never been his friend. Look at the Weaselys. They were poor, unsophisticated blood traitors; but despite it all, they seemed to be a happy family... They seemed to be friends...
Was that what love was all about? To know each other? To spend time together? Draco mentally snorted. If that was so, then his parents had definitely NOT loved him. They were always too busy with work, and politics. They never talked to him. They had conversations, verbal interactions, yes. But they never really talked to him. And they definitely did not spend time with him, except for the times where they taught him manners and etiquette, that is...
But the Weasleys, on the other hand, always seemed to have time for each other...What would it have been like if had Weasley as his father, Draco wondered silently...
Then may be he would not have spent all those lonely nights, wishing, hoping for a bit of attention from his parents...then maybe he would not have spent all that time wondering around, lost and scared in a cold, empty castle...then maybe he would not have spent his childhood, crying for a bit of care...
Father... Trust in my self-righteous suicide I cry when angels deserve to die...
It wasn't like he still felt bad about it now. And it wasn't like he was jealous of the Weasleys or anything. He would never be jealous of the Weasleys of all people! He was a Malfoy, after all. He was above all that.
But he couldn't help but wonder if Potter was right. Draco suddenly realized what he was thinking, and was amazed at himself...how could he, even for a minute, believe that Potter could be even close to be being right??!! Potter couldn't know anything about love...he didn't even have parents.
But he has friends. Said a treacherous voice at the back of mind. Even though Potter had friends like that know-it-all mudblood Granger and crude, pauper Weasley, their friendship was a mutual relationship of shared respect. They all liked each other...
It wasn't like Draco didn't have "friends". He had many people fawning all over him, and worshiping the ground he walked on, but he didn't care about them...not one bit...they were a waste of time...he just put up with them for the sake of maintaining his father's "political alliances". Those blubbering idiot, who followed him around all over the place, were nothing but pawns in a vicious cycle of power struggle. They were inferior to him. He was a Malfoy. He needed someone who was an equal, to be friends...
These thoughts were giving him a headache. He blinked and shook his head, as if to clear his mind, only to realize he was standing on the Quidditch Pitch.
The Quidditch Pitch.
Flying.
That was where he belonged. Flying across the blue sky, relishing the touch of the snug, warm summer air, on his face. He loved souring above the lucid sapphire lake, glinting and swaying in a rhythmic ballet of azure crystalline water. The freshness and freedom of the altitude washed away his worries, in a gust of purifying draft.
I want a break, and want to put this stress aside But above all things I want to lay by the Oceanside The ocean waves, no other way, get away Well I'm finding! Oh no, my daily worries want to drift away, Fine! Dying and trying just to find some sort of peace of mind Now's the time, to get away, I'm going away -Authority Zero
Moody and Amelia sat in front of Dumbledore's desk, sipping cups of tea. They had just finished setting the curriculum for Harry and Draco's extra training lessons. Now, after a tiring day, they were finally enjoying a peaceful time in each other's company. Even with the pressure of the war and the surrounding darkness, all three of them felt happy and content to be with old friends. Just as Moody was about to take another sip from his cup, a tawny owl flew in through the open window. It landed swiftly in Dumbledore's shoulder and extended its legs for the attached letter to be removed. Dumbledore took the letter and unfolded it. As he finished reading the letter, a slight smile formed on his lips. He looked up and said, "It's from Remus...She has arrived safely, and will soon be joined by her friend..."
Moody and Amelia smiled.