(A/N: Nothing much to say… Le gasp! Yes, I know it's tragic that Draco got taken… Sorry for the late update, only two reviews? I'm shocked… And hurt… Come on, less than five from this chapter and I'll have to go on hiatus again… Because it seems that no one likes my story…)
Viktor kneeled on the floor holding a sobbing Danielle in his arms. Her tears continued to flow and they started to bleed through his shirt. Her hands gripped the sleeves as she cried. She cried and cried and refused to stop. As the sobbing quieted down, the rest of the group explained the situation to McGonagall as Nadia and Elvira comforted their friend. Viktor gave her a slight hug and rubbed her back, an act meant to comfort her, but was automatically deemed wrong as she gave a small shriek and backed away from him, arms crossed and hands rubbing the spot from her shoulders to her elbows. Her eyes were red and her tear stained face looked shocked and frightened at the same time.
Nadia gave a look to Viktor that no one could fathom and went to whisper something in her ear. She nodded and breathed in shallowly. Viktor looked at Elvira with a confused look on his face. She gave a knowing smile but explained nothing. Danielle swallowed and gave a small, nervous smile. She mouthed 'thank you' but no words came.
"You're velcomed," Viktor said. Elvira offered her a tissue and she accepted it, dabbing her face, eying Viktor with an uncomfortable face. Viktor looked at Elvira and asked in a hushed whisper, "Vy is she acting this vay after I touched her?" Elvira opened her mouth but seemed to reconsider. "Uhh…" she said, looking at Nadia, who merely shrugged, for something to tell him. A lie, a whacked out story, anything…
"Ms. Tan?" Professor McGonagall asked. Saved by the Headmistress she thought as she turned to her. "Yes, Professor?" she said.
"This situation has gotten far harder than before," Professor McGonagall said. "Not just because James, Lily, Sirius and Remus are transformed into their younger selves, but we are in a war. A war between Good and Evil. A war we must win. I need you and your friends to explain to the Yin Yang students to help us. You too, Mr. Krum. Alert the students of Durmstrang. We need all the help we can get. This is war."
Meanwhile, in a dark, gloomy dungeon…
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The echoes of three knocks on mahogany double doors rang around the chamber which held only a silver chair and a giant cauldron. On the chair, lay a tired old man with flickering red eyes and slits for nostrils. The black robes that covered the sickeningly white skin had became tattered and torn here and there. Lord Voldermort gave a small moan of pain as he tried to get up. He was getting weak…
"My Lord?" the sound of a female Death Eater echoed. Voldermort looked up, his eyes blurry, but could see an image of long black hair and pale skin looking through a door that was left ajar. The figure was slightly shorter than his usual Death Eaters. "Yes, Rose?" he said, his voice weak and hoarse.
"Have you brought the blood of Harry Potter?" Voldermort asked, hopefully. His hands that lay on the arm rests tightened with the rush of excitement.
"No, My Lord, something better," Rose said. "Far better." Rose continued with a smirk as Voldermort's fingers tightened. With anger… His red eyes flared as he looked at her.
"I told you to bring the blood of Harry Potter!" He bellowed. The door shut behind Rose as the dim candles in the room ignited and grew until the room had a bright, red-orange glow. "I need his blood, in a few minutes, I will turn to ash!" Voldermort continued.
Rose backed away, her back touching the door. "B-But, Master! I have brought you a traitor!" she yelled in response. "Draco Malfoy!"
The fire dimmed down and Voldermort was left on his seat, looking intrigued. "Malfoy, you say?" he hissed. "Maybe his blood can be put into the same use."
Peter Pettigrew, a.k.a. Wormtail, lowed down his master into the cauldron as he added a bone, his remaining little finger and waited as the mixture in the cauldron simmered. Wormtail listened, not to the boiling of water, but to the screams of a young man in chains in the next room…
Draco Malfoy balanced himself on his knees on the hard, stone floor as his wrists were tightly held by shackles that were positioned right on top of his head. His left eye was black and his lip was bleeding. Blood slowly seeped from the corner of his mouth. The magic of Voldermort's wand had made his ability to heal useless and now he bled; now he felt pain…
And Rose loved every second of it…
Rose gave a small groan as her foot made contact with Draco's stomach as hard and painfully possible. Draco yelled and the small river of blood at the corner of his mouth grew wider as more seeped out. Blood stained his robes and the shirt he wore underneath. Almost every bit of him was caked with dried blood, and fresh blood…
"Draco," Rose said, toying with his name. "Look at me." Her voice was forceful but was also laced with satisfaction.
Draco adverted his eyes to the ground and stared at the many cracks on the rocks. The cracks were red. With blood. His blood. Tiny rivers of blood, by magic, flowing from the ground to a small vile that lay in a pewter stand on a nearby table. There was a sound of feet on the ground and his face was forcefully pulled up to meet Rose's. "Draco," she said again, a crazed smile on her red lips. "This is just a small taste of your own medicine, Draco." She kneeled down right in front of him, her hand resting on his lap. Her hazel eyes stared into his icy grey orbs. Her hand left his leg as she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. "You may not die, Draco Malfoy," she whispered, her breath brushing on his lips. "But you will be in Hell."
Rose's jet black hair fell to her front and partially covered her porcelain face. The locks of ebony black stroked Draco's cheek. He looked away but a cold hand pushed it back. Rose smirked and opened her mouth. "Remember those days and nights of torture you filled my life with?" Rose whispered, her breath teasing his neck. Her grip on his shirt tightened as she drew herself closer. "They'll haunt you as the positions are reversed. You're the prey, now, Draco. And I'm the predator. The merciless predator." She pulled back and threw Draco's body to the wall. He moaned with pain as his legs slumped from his kneeling position, leaving him hanging by his wrists painfully. She stood up and took the vial of his blood. "Not that you had mercy on me," she said as she slammed the door shut. Draco was left alone… In his pain… In his own blood…
"Here you go, Wormtail," Rose muttered as she handed him the vial of blood. Wormtail twitched and held the glass tube close to his eyes.
"There's so much blood in it, it overflowed," Wormtail muttered. He looked at Rose who leaned on the wall with her arms crossed and a grin on her face.
"I enjoyed myself," Rose said plainly. "Revenge is a beautiful thing."
Wormtail nodded as he emptied the contents of the vial. The mixture simmered. It started to bubble and the bubbles grew bigger. The cauldron shook and sparks flew from the rim. Wormtail ran from the silver and hid behind the chair. Rose shook her head but shock came to her face as the cauldron exploded. Shards of silver flew everywhere and one sharp cut Rose's hand. She winced and looked at the wound. Blood dripped from it in big drops of red, falling to the floor. Speaking of the floor, a clump of wet black robes now lay motionlessly on the ground, the exact spot where the cauldron once lay on a green flame.
The clump moved, a pale hand fell from the robes as it moaned. Lord Voldemort stood up and dried his robes with his clothes as Wormtail and Rose watched him in shock, examining his every movement. Voldermort soon grew impatient and yelled, "What is so amazing that you two must stare at me like I'm a freak?"
'Freak?' Rose thought. 'Freak? Lord Voldermort does not use this word.'
But this man was Voldermort in a way. This man has no slits for nostrils, no bald head, no age ruined, wrinkled hands. This man had black locks, a normal face and a body of a man in his early twenties. This wasn't Lord Voldermort…
This was Tom Marvolo Riddle…
(A/N: Still have second thoughts on not reviewing?)