Under a pale lit ceiling, an uneasy silence spread across the emptiness. A single soul existed in this space between nothingness.
Emerald eyes shut tightly, The boy waits in the darkness. Still in the shadows, his position hidden from even himself, the boy listens.
And he waits.
Movement. To the left.
The boy moves on pure instinct, his body screaming to get out of the way as, within the darkness, something lights up in a vivid red color heading straight towards him.
He pulls his body forward into a tuck and roll, just getting out of the path of the red spell as it crashed into where he had been standing. He leans on one knee, shutting his eyes once more as he breathes out, listening.
To the right.
He takes off in a run and a spell in a sickly green color illuminates the chamber and explodes right behind him. He can smell the smoke and burnt rubber in the air which easily could've been his own flesh.
Red flashes to his right and the boy halts in his tracks, losing his footing as he topples straight onto his bottom. Mere inches from his shoes, the bright red spell hits the ground. He can feel the heat from the blast on his shoes, the rumble on the floor as it collided and he doesn't have time to wonder how they could've been himself.
A purple spell shoots from the right just as a blue one shoots from the left, both headed directly towards him. He tucks his feet to his chest and rolls backward onto his back until he hits the solid ground and in one solid move, pushes himself to his feet and starts to run in the opposite direction.
He doesn't see it but he feels the collision of the spell as dust and dirt are launched into the air. He nearly chokes, suddenly coughing as his eyes water from the debris. He shut them tightly as he heard another spell collide behind him.
Before him, he faltered briefly as he came across a hard rock-like substance.
With a confidence that only came from intimately knowing his surroundings, he planted one hand on a rock in front of him and swung his feet around, never stopping his momentum as he continued to run forward. He was panting now from the exertion but he never faltered.
It wasn't enough.
He never saw the silent spell coming. It was too close as it lit up in bright red mere feet from his position. His eyes widened in horror as he didn't have the time to get out of the way. It collided with his chest with a shock, knocking him back flat onto his back.
His limbs froze, stiffening up until he could no longer move or feel them. His eyes flickered back and forth in the darkness, trying desperately in vain to move even a finger but it was no use.
"Well, Well, Well," A sudden voice cut through the silence. "Who do we have here?"
He strained his eyes to see his attacker but the pitch blackness prevented any sight. Despite this, the voice was largely familiar. He couldn't respond even if he wanted to.
Somebody loudly clapped, the sound ringing into the emptiness and the darkness was illuminated. Light burst forth, the suddenness causing him to squeeze his eyes shut from the sudden change.
Harry flickered his eyes back open slowly and looked up. Looming over him was a very familiar face.
A set of hazel eyes hidden behind a pair of round glasses, similar to his own. A floppy mess of raven-black hair and a mischievous grin. His wand pointed down at Harry like a threat but there was no malice or intent to harm in the man's relaxed posture.
"Stop toying with him, Prongs," a second man joined to stare down at the petrified Harry. This man had black hair as well but finely combed and brushed from his face. He had a wicked smirk on his face and aristocratic features with grey eyes. Mischief sparkled around the man as if in a joke Harry would never understand.
Harry struggled to open his mouth, to retort something sarcastic but even his tongue was frozen to the roof of his mouth.
Prongs waved his wand, chuckling under his breath, and the spell wrapped around him like a vice, freeing his body from the body-bind curse.
Harry gasped aloud, sitting up immediately. He shivered still, not wanting to remember how helpless he had felt under the curse's power.
He glared up at the first man, poorly hidden venom injected into his words as he spat out "Was that really necessary, Dad?"
James Potter smirked and crossed his arms over his chest, his wand immediately into his holster so fast that Harry barely saw it.
"Of course it was, Harry," he said, "if you had been caught by a real dark wizard, it wouldn't have been a full body bind. No, they would've gone straight to the entrail-bursting curse. Or maybe the blood-sucking curse. Or maybe both, who knows?"
Harry shivered at the images those brought to the forefront of his mind.
Sirius Black tilted his head at Harry and coolly said, "or an unforgivable. You saw what it did to your sister. And what did you do to stop that again?"
"Shut up!" Harry snapped, glaring fiercely at his Uncle. Harry's right hand, much to his fury, lit up in an emerald green hue. Harry took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm himself but the rage now boiling under his skin only fueled the magic pulsing out of his scarred hand.
His dad sighed and lowered himself to his knees so the two were almost eye-level.
"You asked us to train you, Harry and we are. But your temper is the one thing you need to get a hold of. Ask yourself this, why, during the entire chase where you were being threatened several times, almost caught by unknown spells, did it not activate once?"
"Yet," Sirius continued, nodding at the glowing hand, "The minute I get under your skin, it lights up like a Christmas tree."
Harry grits his teeth together and shut his eyes tightly. With a heavy sigh, he let go of the tension that had been flooding his body and hung his head to his knees.
"I don't know," he mumbled to the ground, his shoes suddenly interesting.
His Dad sighed and reached his hand out to pat Harry's knee. "You're still young. You don't have to know all the answers. No matter what any adult says, they don't either. I certainly didn't at your age and I still don't. Just think about it, okay?"
Harry looked up at his dad, meeting his eyes. Dad smiled.
Sirius leaned down to ruffle Harry's already messy hair. "There's no need to rush. You'll get it, kiddo. We'll be here with you."
Harry smiled up at them. "Thanks."
"Now, Let's get some dinner. I'm sure your Mum has it ready by now." His Dad grinned.
"And I'm starving!" Sirius complained, holding onto his lower stomach.
"You're always starving," Harry deadpanned.
"Hey, Lily's cooking is just that good." Sirius defended himself.
"And why he's having trouble keeping up on missions nowadays," Dad whispered to Harry with a wink.
Harry chuckled.
"Hey! If anyone is having trouble keeping up on missions, it's you!" Sirius accused, thrusting a finger towards his friend.
"Yeah, right. You see these rock-solid abs?" Dad stood up, gesturing to his abdomen, which to Harry, did not look at all rock solid. "I'm Head Auror for a reason. And these are 50% of it."
"Yeah, right. Your only Head Auror cause I didn't want it." Sirius said snobbishly.
"Dad, dinner," Harry finally broke the argument. He raised an eyebrow at his Dad.
Dad sagely nodded. "My Lily-Flower must be missing me. Alright, up and at'em." Dad offered Harry a hand, which he took gratefully and pulled him to his feet.
"Thanks, Dad," Harry said, gratefully.
"Anytime, Kiddo," Dad ruffled his hair.
"What about me?" Sirius protested.
"Thanks, Uncle Padfoot," Harry grinned.
"You're welcome. We'll make a marauder out of you yet, pup," Sirius slung an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry had grown a few inches over the summer and came to their shoulders now. His Dad was right. He was still young and he had much more room to grow.
There was no hurry.
Contrary to the lively kitchens where music and the smell of food came, the Dining Room was practically empty when they entered. With Aura out hunting, Harry entered alone.
Mara sat at the long dining table, her wet hair still dripping though she had it in a ponytail. She was drinking from her favorite mug which had 'Chocolaholic' on it. She got it four or five years ago as a Christmas present from Uncle Moony. From the amount of whipped cream, marshmallows, and chocolate drizzle on top, it was most likely Hot chocolate.
Breena curled lightly at the base of her feet, tail flickering innocently.
'I do not understand why you like such sweet things,' Breena remarked.
'Because they're delicious,' Mara said, sipping her mug happily.
She smiled at Harry as he entered but upon seeing Dad and Sirius behind him, her smile dropped. Her face twisted into a glare, much like his own had earlier. As her mood dropped, so did Breena's.
Sirius chuckled as he took a seat at the empty table. Mara's narrowed eyes followed him. Breena hissed as he came a bit too close and he uncomfortably moved to the next seat away from the two.
"A moony special?" Sirius asked goodnaturedly, gesturing to the hot chocolate. Mara didn't answer, simply glared at him as she brought the mug to her lips and took a sip.
It clacked on the table once she let it down.
Surprisingly, even with a whipped cream mustache, his sister still managed to look fierce.
Harry and Dad quietly took a seat at the table, both watching to see where this would go.
"Come on, you can't still be mad. Is this about the mud?" Sirius huffed.
Wrong thing to say.
Harry winced as Mara's glare turned from a simple house fire to a boiling magma.
"You had me crawl through a mud pit," She slowly growled out, her fists turning white with how tightly she gripped her mug.
"It was training," Sirius argued.
And honest to Merlin, Mara hissed at him.
Bewildered, Harry exchanged a look with his Dad but both only shrugged at one another. That was new. Perhaps she was spending too much time with Breena, who only looked smug now.
"Whoa," Sirius simply said to all of them.
"Eat your own arse," Mara bit out, "You ruined my hair."
Harry's eyes went to Mara's forehead, searching for any sign of the pink-colored light from before. There was nothing.
Both frustrated and relieved, Harry looked at his own hand. While Mara had been silent, his had repeatedly activated whenever he got too emotional. He couldn't control it though. It seemed to only activate randomly.
"Mara, there is no need for that kind of language," His Dad reprimanded.
"You too," She hissed back.
"Mara! Do not take that tone with me, young lady," Dad snapped.
"Oh yeah?" Mara sneered, "And what are you going to do about it?"
Their Dad fumed, steam coming out of his ears as he opened his mouth, fury written on every bone.
"LILY!"
Their Father got up from the table and nearly ran to the Kitchen where their Mum was cooking Dinner with Aunt Emilia and Uncle Moony.
Mara simply crossed her arms and huffed, still glaring at where he had left.
Harry shook his head. "This is not going to end well," He muttered to himself.
Sure enough, moments later, the pounding footsteps of his mother's slippers on the bare tile beneath their feet loudly stomped into the room.
Where James Potter was mischievous, black messy-haired with a boyish grin, their Mum was the opposite. She matched her fiery hair with an explosive temper and a fierce attitude.
The twins were often compared to their parents, Mara to their Mother with the same burning hair, and Harry to their father, nearly identical in their lanky, knobbly-knees genes yet it was their eyes that set them apart.
While Mara had inherited their father's twinkling hazel eyes, Harry was born with the same almond-shaped, emerald that their mother was famous for. A startling green, Harry was not ashamed to admit it was his favorite part of his appearance.
Their mother popped her hip to the side, her arms crossed over her chest, and looked at them expectantly.
Mara, under the pressurized stare of their Mother, cracked first.
"They were teasing me about the mud," Mara said, her fierceness retreating under the clearly superior flame that was their mother. If Mara was a volcano, their Mother would be the boiling point in Hell itself.
"And what did you say back?" Their Mother raised her eyebrow, waiting patiently.
Their Father grinned behind her, stars practically in his eyes at his wife's fierceness. Sirius met Harry's gaze and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.
'Whipped' He mouthed and Harry stifled a grin behind his hand.
"I told him to eat his arse," Mara said ashamedly, looking down into her empty hot cocoa cup.
"And?" their Mum prompted.
"It was wrong and childish of me. I'm sorry, Dad, I'm sorry, Sirius," She looked at each of them, her eyes glittering under the light.
Harry rolled his eyes yet Sirius and Dad fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
"Of course, my baby doe," Their Father all but launched towards mara to wrap her in a tight hug.
Their Uncle Sirius joined her, both sniffling as Mara looked up at them with her puppy dog eyes.
"Sellouts," Harry muttered under his breath.
Their Mum approached Mara as soon as the two men let her go and she hugged her close,
"While they certainly deserve it, your petulance solves nothing. I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again, am I understood?"
"Yes, mum," Mara said, looking thoroughly chastised.
"Good," Their Mum leaned over to press a kiss to Mara's hairline.
"That said," Mum turned to Sirius and Dad with blazing eyes. "I spent two and a half hours getting mud out of her hair. If you ever make my daughter crawl through two kilometers of mud again, I will end you."
"Yes, Lily," The two grown men chorused, hunched over under the fearsome weight of Lily Potter's glare.
"Dinner's Served!"
Emilia popped in with a bright smile, carrying a plate of roasted hen in her hands. She paused at the tense atmosphere and looked back and forth between their Mum and the two scolded men.
"Did I interrupt something?"
Uncle Remus popped up behind her, more bowls of food in his hands. "If you did, it was Sirius's fault."
"Oi!" Sirius cried.
Emilia giggled as she placed the platter on the table, Remus following suit with his own bowl of food.
"Not everything is my fault," Sirius protested.
"Are you kidding me? The Majority of all of our worst ideas came from you," James said.
"Firstly, No, I'm Sirius."
Everyone groaned in unison.
"Secondly, Breaking into a rocket and sending Moony to the moon during the full moon to see if he turns is not a bad idea. I think it was brilliant."
"It was brilliant." Emilia smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "My brilliant fiance."
Sirius grinned, lovestruck as Emilia took a seat beside him, a vision of grace to his clumsy mischief.
"Whipped," James coughed into his hand.
Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, "You're one to talk. You've been whipped since you were eleven."
"Yes, but the difference is I never tried to hide it. I made that amazing, brilliant, gorgeous woman my wife." James kissed his wife's cheek and Lily tried to stay stern but he whipped out his puppy-dog eyes, staring at her.
Finally, she cracked a smile and said "You're an idiot."
"But I'm your idiot," James grinned goofily.
She rolled her eyes but smiled as she kissed him.
"Emphasis on idiot," she smiled.
"OI!"
As laughter and joy-filled the room, all were content, bright smiles upon their faces as they ate together as a family.
Not all were so lucky.
Inside a Manor, miles away from the Potter family, another family had sat at their table to eat. Yet, there was no laughter, no smiles or joy. An uncomfortable silence settled over the family of four as they ate and none dared disturb it.
A man with long combed blonde hair with an aristocratic presence sat at the head of the table. He cut through his meat neatly with a golden steak knife, dressed to the nines even in his own home. His silver eyes flickered to the people on the left and right of him.
To his right sat his beloved wife, a woman with fair blonde hair, a tall and slim body with pale blue eyes. She ate her food daintily, one tiny bite at a time. Her meat was pre-cut into neat slices, not a hint of a mess to be found.
On the other side of the table, to the left of the man, sat a much younger boy with the same blonde hair as the man but short and slicked back. The boy had a pointed nose like the woman and steel-gray eyes. He ate silently and efficiently, not once looking away from his food.
Beside the woman was the last member of the family, a young girl with bright blonde hair and two startling blue eyes. She kept her head down, her long hair pulled back into a low ponytail down her lower back as she idly picked at her food with a fork.
"Carina!" Lucius Malfoy snapped at the young girl.
The said girl jumped, her head snapping up instinctively to her father's stern eyes. As she did, she lost control over her fork and it slid across the glass plate. A harsh screech rang out in the empty dining room, pausing all activities.
Lucius glared murderously at his daughter as Narcissa sent her a stern look in a warning. Carina shrunk into her seat, collapsing in on herself as she dropped her fork onto her napkin next to the plate.
"I-I didn't-I'm- I didn't mean to- I'm sorry," The girl stuttered, eyes on her untouched plate of food now.
"Stop stuttering!" He demanded, putting down his fork and knife.
Carina fell silent, her head lowered almost to the table.
"How many times have I told you about playing with your food at the table? Forks are not instruments!"
"Yes, Father. I'm sorry." Carina muttered quietly, nearly too soft to hear.
"Speak up, girl!" Lucius snapped, "Malfoys don't mumble!"
"Yes, Father."
"Now either eat your food properly or go repent in your room."
Carina stiffened, "Yes, Father. I'll eat."
As neatly as she could, Carina grabbed the fork and began eating her food one bite after another.
"Mind your manners! We don't tolerate slobs in my household." Lucius snapped.
Carina nodded obediently as she slowed her intake of food.
As Lucius continued to berate the young girl, the remaining two members of the family exchanged glances. A silent warning in the gaze of the mother, as the boy tried his hardest to keep his face impassive.
He sent a silent apology to his sister as he faced his dinner plate, ignoring the teary eyes of the young girl.
"Useless," Lucius scoffed, turning back to his own dinner.
Carina held her fork tightly, her tiny hands shaking as she kept as steady as she could. She ate silently, her lip wobbling with every bite.
"Draco," Lucius barked, whirling on his son now, "what of your mission?"
Draco stiffened as he looked up from his plate. It was clear to see the irritation on his father's face. There was no winning this.
Draco bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Father. The potters declined my request."
Quite harshly, not to mention. Draco clenched his fists under the table as he remembered the insults they wrote back on his invitations.
Lucius face twisted into a sneer, "Of course they did. Filthy muggle-lovers. Blood traitors the lot of them."
Hatred burned in every word he spits out. Lucius turned his accusing eyes to Draco.
"It was your responsibility to win them over, Draco. How could you fail at something so simple?" He demanded.
"I'm sorry, Father."
"Malfoys don't apologize!" Lucius shouted as he slammed his fists onto the table. Silence fell, broken only by the rattling of the dishes as Lucius narrowed his eyes on his son's figure.
Underneath the table, Draco bit his fingernails into his palms, body tense in the face of his father's rage.
A loud pop interrupted the tense atmosphere. A house-elf appeared behind Lucius, cowering under his shadow. Dressed in dirty rags with his watery eyes locked onto its master, the elf was a symbol of pity.
"Master," it croaked, "Masters Nott and Travers be here."
Lucius straightened in his seat, brushing a hand over his hair to slick it back once more. Not a hair out of place as he returned to the calm, aristocratic face everyone outside the manor walls expected. With a sigh, he turned to the pitiful creature, no kindness in his eyes as he sneered, "Send them to the Parlour."
"Yes, Master."
Lucius stood up from the table, casually fixing his robes. He sends a harsh look at Draco.
"Fifty sets this evening, Draco."
"Yes, Father," Draco gritted his teeth, spitting out the answer.
"Do not disappoint me again."
With that, Lucius Malfoy left the dining hall leaving the remaining family in silence.
Narcissa continued to eat, primly wiping her mouth with her napkin.
Carina dropped her utensils, her shoulders collapsing in on herself as she sniffed quietly.
Draco looked down at the table. Like he always did, he stayed silent, and wondered, briefly, if all family dinners were supposed to leave a bad taste in your mouth.
The sun had set. The dark came out to play as the moon shone brightly overhead. The sky was dark, purples and blues exchanging in a familiar color that meant it was time to sleep. Most children would be warm in their beds, lulled to sleep by their parent's croons and good wishes.
Malfoy Manor was not that kind of place.
The gardens were quiet, only disturbed by the moving vegetation in the wind or the calls of birds and insects throughout the flora community.
Between the statues of peacocks and the freshly pruned topiaries, a platinum blonde-haired boy ran through various movements.
A hawthorn wooden wand clenched tightly in his fist, the boy ran through the same premeditated sets. Waving up and down, circles and squares are drawn in the air as he performed spell after spell.
Each beginning and ending in the same cycle, never-ending as the movement that ended one spell began the next. With no rest, the boy was the vision of fatigue.
Beads of sweat rolled down his face, his teeth gnashing together harshly in his exhaustion and pain. The overexertion of his magical core was not a pleasant experience, but not an unfamiliar one.
Like a balloon swelling up in his chest, it was too large and painful to contain. It felt like his rib cage could burst from the pressure.
Still, he persisted.
When at last he finished the set, he collapsed upon the earth below.
Draco gripped his right wrist, still clutching his wand tightly in his hand. Heat welled behind his eyes, as it throbbed painfully, screaming silently for rest, for a break.
'Rest is for the weak,' His father always said, that disappointed frown marring his face, 'and Malfoys aren't weak.'
Faintly, he heard one of the doors sliding open from behind him and Draco bit his lip as he staggered back to his feet. Back straight, eyes forward, head up, just like he had been taught,
Even if all his limbs felt like they were submerged in molten lava, a Malfoy must always be perfect. He raised his wand, intending on performing the next set but a voice, timid and quiet called out.
"It's just me."
And with that, Draco lost his form. He slouched, crumpling in on himself as he breathed out a sigh of relief. Every muscle in his body screamed in relief as he sat on the ground, throwing his head back to the sky. The slight chill felt nice on his sweat-ridden body. Tiredly, he looked at the intruder.
Carina shuffled on her feet, her fingers already picking at her clothes, rumbling the expensive robes.
Mother would not be happy.
"What?" Draco bit out, harsher than he intended. Still, despite his snappish tone, Carina only gave him a smile instead.
"It's already ten. Mother is wondering where you are."
That was laughable. Neither of their parents would be wondering where he was. They all knew he'd be out here for at least another hour.
Draco snorted.
"Tell mother, I'll be done soon." Draco drawled.
Carina flushed pink, looking away as she shuffled on her feet.
They both knew their mother didn't tell her to ask.
"What'd you really come here for?" Draco asked, wiping his brow of sweat. He stood back on his feet, getting ready for his next set. Without much thought, he performed the first spells, the multicolored spells flying out of his wand in a flurry.
Any hint of a smile dropped off the girl's face as she stared down at her feet.
It was silent, only the sound of his spells one after another as Draco waited for Carina to finally ask.
He knew she'd get her thoughts together eventually.
And she did. And he almost wished she never had.
"Father hates me, doesn't he?" The sullen girl suddenly asked, breaking their comfortable silence.
Draco stiffened, missing the next movement in the spell. He faltered, lowering his wand to his side. He looked over at his baby sister, unable to look into her teary eyes and tell her the truth.
They both knew the truth, as cold and harsh as it was. Yet, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears and he knew she didn't need to hear the truth right now.
"No," He answered, "Dad's just strict because he's under a lot of pressure."
Draco swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring how recited those words sounded. How many times had he asked the same thing like her? How many times had Mother told him the same thing?
When was it he realized it was a lie?
Carina sent him a watery smile as if trying to reassure them both that she believed him.
"How many more sets do you have to do?"
"Nine," He answered, curtly.
"I'll go get some tea. Dobby?"
His sister spoke the name of the house-elf, quietly and politely, as if asking. It was a far cry from the harsh, commanding tone of their Father or the firm, cold tone of their mother. Even Draco's demanding whine was mountains away from his sister's quiet plea.
A loud pop rang out and the house-elf appeared, dressed in his usual rags and bandaged fingers. Dobby's big eyes looked imploringly up at Carina who smiled at him.
"Yesus, Missus Carina?"
"Would you help me get some tea for me and Draco?"
"Of courses, Missus Carina!" The elf enthusiastically yelled. "I be getting teas right away!"
"No, that's okay, Dobby. I'll make it myself. I just need help carrying them."
Dobby hesitated as he did with every request Carina made of him, though little they were. If Father had seen this, he would've turned purple.
Carina knew this as well.
And they both knew he would never tell their father.
Still, the elf nodded in obedience, popping away probably to the kitchen.
Draco turned back to his set, attempting to ignore his sister's kindness.
He really hoped she wouldn't get put into Slytherin. She'd be eaten alive by the snakes. But then again, anything less than Slytherin and their father would have even more reason to be disappointed in his younger sister.
He didn't think either of them could handle that.
"Draco," Carina suddenly piped up.
Draco paused, raising an eyebrow as he turned to her. An uncharacteristically serious frown marred her face.
"Be careful this year, please," she requested, her eyes staring up at him imploringly.
Draco paused, frowning as well. "What do you mean?"
Carina tugged on her robes once more, looking at the ground. "I overheard Father talking in his study. He's planning something. He's angry, Drake, so very angry. I think it's about that new bill they passed."
Draco immediately knew what she was talking about. A new bill had passed over the summer. The Muggle Protection Act. A new law to protect muggles against harmful magical artifacts. Their father had been furious.
Especially since it had been spearheaded by Arthur Weasley. Despite all their father's influence to prevent it from passing, it still went through due to the unexpected support from the Girl-Who-Lived.
Lucius Malfoy had been no less than bitter.
"Father said he was going to teach them a lesson," Carina said, hesitantly. "I think he's planning something bad, Drake. And I think he's planning to use the Girl-Who-Lived as bait."
Draco stiffened.
The two children knew without a doubt their father was not the most morally upright person, nor the most adhering to the law. If there was a loophole, Lucius Malfoy had found it and exploited it.
But that was to be expected from a Malfoy. They had a duty to protect wizardkind from themselves, Their Father had said.
Sabotaging bills in the Ministry and paying off corrupted ministry employees was one thing. Even going after Arthur Weasley was acceptable due to his family's fallen status.
But touching the Girl-Who-Lived was another one entirely.
The Girl-Who-Lived wasn't just a wizarding icon or a famous celebrity. She is a symbol of hope, peace, of a world without war. To the people, she was untouchable.
Death was a far kinder option.
At her word, ministry employees lost their jobs and their homes, shunned by society, and were arrested on baseless accusations. No one had as much clout and backing as she did. She could change the world with a snap of her fingertips
And she never used it. A waste, if you'd ask him.
But nonetheless, going against the Girl-Who-Lived could not only destroy their father's career but their entire family.
"Are you sure?" Draco demanded, narrowing his eyes on his sister's form.
"Yes."
There was no hesitation, no doubt in her clear eyes.
"Father is going to harm the Girl-Who-Lived," She stated firmly.
The clanging of dishes falling and shattering interrupted them. Draco and Carina whirled around in panic.
At the entrance, stood Dobby, a whole tray of teacups and teapots lay shattered on the floor. His eyes wide, face stricken with terror.
"Dobby be sorry! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" Tearfully, Dobby snapped his fingers and the mess vanished as Dobby took off, probably to go oven his fingers again.
Draco rolled his eyes. Crazy bloody elf.
"I'll go get a new teaset," Carina sighed. They both knew she'd probably try to stop Dobby from hurting himself but fail once more.
Draco couldn't tell you how many times he'd walk into the kitchen to find her trying to pull Dobby out of the oven or hitting himself with the blunt end of a lamp.
Still, he wouldn't change her for the world. Carina smiled at him, a bit sad and a bit worried but her smile nonetheless.
Without another word, she turned on her heel and softly left.
Left alone in the silence of the gardens, Draco took in a deep breath. The air was crisp and a slight cold settled on his bare skin. As he settled back into his form for his next set, a sudden breeze blew through him.
At first, the sudden gust felt like being dunked into ice water. A shiver ran down his spine, all the way to his bone marrow.
And then he felt a pull.
Like a rope tied around his heart, it pulled with all its might, deeper into the gardens, past the dark woods at the property's edge.
Something was calling him.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears in rhythm with the mysterious pull on his magical core.
Draco snapped to attention, fervently gazing into the woods for whatever was out there.
Something, he didn't know what but something was calling out to him, urging him to meet it. In the distance, he heard the loud, familiar screeching of animals. The peacocks, he recognized. They were throwing a fit, calling out a warning.
Hesitance and duty warred in his mind, to stay or to go but whatever was out there wasn't content to wait for him. Draco strained his eyes in the darkness, searching.
And then he saw it.
In the woods, by the tree lines, two bloody red eyes stared back at him.
His heart skipped a beat.
The wards were impenetrable, nothing could enter without the Lord's knowledge.
"Lumos Solem!" Draco shouted, a hint of panic leaking through his voice. The area now lit up, and Draco's eyes caught more of the offending figure.
A dog.
Or it was supposed to be.
A gruesome creature, looming and massive even from a distance, fur as black as night and eyes as red as blood. It lifted its long snout, revealing its sharp, unnaturally white teeth. Along its sides and rib cage, bones lined along its fur, Like its skeleton was outside of its body
It was skinny like it had been starved for years but that didn't take away from its massive size. The ground beneath its razor-sharp claws was blackened, scorched as the plant matter had decayed from its simple touch.
Not a dog.
Not even a wolf.
It was a grim.
In the face of a real-life boogeyman, Draco did what any rational wizard would.
He screamed.
He screamed like he saw death itself like his life was being sucked out by a dementor. It echoed around the empty gardens, joining in the screeching of the peacocks in the distance. He screamed and screamed until his throat burned, staring at the grim like it might devour him in one bite, no matter how far it was.
The grim took a step forward.
Draco scrambled backward in a hurry, feet tripping over themselves as he never broke eye contact. Yet, his foot hit something hard, and suddenly, he lost his balance.
The world tilted and something collided with Draco's head, hard. Sharp pain rang on the back of his head and his vision went blurry. All he saw was the darkened sky above him, the grim long lost.
Instinctively, Draco felt for the back of his head, uncomfortable. Something wet and slimy met his fingers. Bringing them to his face, he confirmed his suspicions.
Blood.
Draco could hardly do more than gasp out, his eyes blurry as the world continued to spin. He reached with his other hand to grasp his wand, having fallen something when he fell but he couldn't reach it.
Like on a spinning ride with no end, Draco couldn't tell what was up or down, much less where he was or what he was doing.
Words trapped in his throat and he heard a loud scream, not from him and not from the peacocks. Human.
High-pitched, girlish.
Carina.
"DRACO!" someone was screaming his name but everything was foggy and he didn't have the energy to get up or answer back. He could feel his vision tunneling.
That's right, it was a monster. He saw a monster.
Go away, he wanted to tell her, don't let it eat you. Don't get hurt over me.
But his voice wouldn't work.
And everything went black.
