A translation of Schatten der Wahl Teil 1 by Pilarius.
Translators' Note: This story was written before the release of the sixth volume. Thus, it makes some assumptions that clash with later revelations.
Content Warnings: Violence, physical and mental abuse.
Chapter 1: BeginningsIt was early noon. The sun stood high, but only a few of its rays fell between the countless crooked roofs and eaves of Morgul Alley. Down here, where its inhabitants went about their lives, it may as well have been night.
Dim lanterns cast their flickering light onto cloaked creatures, hastily vanishing into the shadows. It was silent - an eerie silence, only interrupted by low hisses and whispers from unknown corners. It was as if the speakers feared to awaken something lurking in the darkness between the decayed stone buildings.
Then, a dark figure emerged from between the houses, disturbing the silence.
The visitor was obviously a stranger who didn't belong in this place. He didn't bother hiding in the shadows and moved past the dark alleys with arrogant confidence. It was as if he didn't care what lay in wait in the sinister cellars along his path. The hood of his dark cloak was drawn far over his face to hide it from the view of the others. Either he didn't notice the loathful murmurs following him, or he ignored them.
"Careful, human," hissed a kobold and made to grab his cloak.
The stranger dodged with surprising nimbleness and continued on his way without further concern. His passing was followed by the snickering of goblins and half-elves, and glares from the yellow eyes of were-beasts or even those of an aging vampire.
Only rarely did a human find their way into the depths of Morgul Alley. Even more rarely, did they find their way back.
This one, however, had something about him that turned away the were-beasts and caused the vampire to melt back into the shadow. It was like a dark aura that awakened fear deep within their hearts and drove them off, even if they didn't know why. Only those creatures less touched by darkness were ignorant enough to follow him with loathing and taunts, but they couldn't do anything to harm him.
The stranger halted next to a dark alley and raised his head as if to listen for something. A few minutes passed. Then, he leaned in.
"I hope there's a good reason to call me here, Darmal."
His voice was icy, devoid of warmth. A shadow parted from the darkness of the alley, until gray eyes looked down on the visitor.
"You are the one who wanted something from us, if I remember correctly."
Both ignored the whispers that grew as those around them noticed the new creature.
His white hair stood in stark contrast to his dark skin. He could've been human if it wasn't for his unnaturally slender body, the far too-high cheekbones, and the pointed ears. These were unmistakably the features of a dark elf. Spider-like fingers fiddled with his robe, and he pulled forth a parchment scroll.
"Isn't this what you were looking for?" The elf sounded condescending. His eyes of blackened mercury weren't trained on the man in front of him, but on the alley behind. His disdain for the stranger was obvious.
A ringed hand snatched the parchment scroll from the outstretched hand. The movement was greedy, almost violent.
"Long enough."
The elf sneered, holding out his open hand. When the stranger handed over a leather pouch, he checked its contents and his grin widened.
"Beautiful. I hope you're happy with your purchase, HUMAN."
The elf's laughter echoed through the alley, even after he had melted back into the shadows. The stranger remained for a moment, before abruptly turning around and leaving with his cloak billowing behind him.
A loud crash gave Narcissa a start. From the corner of her eyes, she saw a glimpse of blonde hair from the top of the stairs, but it was gone too soon.
She and Draco knew better than to get in Lucius' way when he was in this mood. He'd been raging for hours by now. Hopefully, at least some of his study was still intact. Carefully, he approached the door and opened it.
She found utter devastation. The desk had been flipped, and the ink bottles lay broken on the floor. The chairs were shattered and the books swept from their shelves. In the center of it all, completely out of breath, leaned her husband.
Even with tangled hair and rumpled clothes, he still had an aristocratic air about him. Narcissa would have admired it, if she wasn't so shocked. Sure, he had his tantrums, but it hadn't been this bad since… Well, now that she thought about it, it hadn't been this bad since fifteen years ago.
"Why?" He shouted in a completely atypical bout of self-pity and rammed his fist into the wall.
Narcissa grimaced in disgust. She hated when he showed weakness.
"Three times," he continued. "Only three times! Will it ever stop haunting me?"
Narcissa's eyes widened, as she realized what he was talking about. Her eyes crept across the chaos of books and ink on the floor until she found two pieces of a ripped-apart parchment scroll. Everything within her told her to take it, but she didn't dare take another step into the room.
"Is it…" she gulped. "Is it what I think it is?"
Lucius stared at her, before breaking into laughter. It was a terrifying laughter that terrified her deeply. It almost sounded… insane.
"Is it what you think it is, darling?" he repeated her question mockingly. "Oh, I doubt that. I SERIOUSLY doubt that."
Suddenly, he crouched, grabbed the pieces of parchment, and tossed them into the fire with one fluid motion.
"It's nothing," he hissed. "Nothing. This isn't my blood!"
"No!" Narcissa jumped after it with a shout, without giving it much thought. "Accio!"
The pieces of parchment halted in their flight just before reaching the greedy flames, darting back to her outstretched hand. Lucius whipped around, eyes narrowed.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Narcissa froze as she realized what she had done. Then, she stumbled backwards in a haste. She was too slow. Lucius' hand hit her in the face, hard, and she fell, sliding across the smooth stone floor.
She scrambled to her feet and ran. There was only a single thought on her mind: The parchment in her hand that she was squeezing against her breast protectively.
She expected his footsteps behind her and was surprised when they didn't come. Halfway down the stairs, she turned around and saw Lucius, still standing in the door. His face was contorted in rage and his right hand was clawing at his left arm. She sighed in relief.
He muttered something before turning away and rushing out of the house. Narcissa closed her eyes and absentmindedly brushed the cheek where one of his rings had left a bloody cut. Hopefully, he'd have calmed down by the time he came back. With a bit of luck, she'd be able to talk to him then.
She turned and slowly made her way up the stairs to her room, leaving the chaos behind her to the house-elves.
Later that night, Narcissa heard the door to the study open and slowly made her way downstairs. She clutched the repaired parchment scroll tightly in one hand, and her wand in the other. The foreign characters told her enough, even if she was unable to read them. She wanted answers from her husband. Merlin, she was entitled to them.
What she found wasn't what she expected. The house-elves had left no trace of the destruction from earlier. The room was dimly lit, and Lucius sat in his armchair, head in his hands. 'Was he crying?' She wondered, shocked. 'No. That's not possible. Never…'
Lucius looked up, only to stare at her. Narcissa was relieved to see that he hadn't been crying, but the desperation in his eyes was almost as bad.
"Narcissa," he rasped.
She lowered her wand and stared back. It had been years since Lucius last spoke her name with this much feeling. Any feeling. A feeling of thinking of her as more than just an object at his side.
"Lucius," she began, unsure. Then she held the parchment out towards him. "What…?"
Lucius leaned back with a bitter smile. She'd never seen an expression like this on his face before.
"Our doom," he answered her unasked question, almost softly.
"Ah, Severus. It's a pleasure that you found time for me."
The potions master simply nodded. "Always, for you, Lucius."
Lucius Malfoy smiled briefly and motioned towards the couch. "Have a seat. Iustinus and Mildred should be here any moment."
Severus Snape inwardly grimaced at the mention of the Parkinsons. He hated the pair, but who was he to reject an invitation by the Malfoys?
He took a seat opposite Narcissa and Draco, greeting them politely. Narcissa offered him a practiced smile but seemed absentminded. Once Lucius left again, she asked a few polite questions about Hogwarts and Draco's achievements, barely attempting to feign interest. Usually, she was better at hiding her emotions.
Meanwhile, Draco stared past them during the entire conversation and flinched, as Lucius returned. The potions master frowned inwardly.
As soon as Lucius and the Parkinsons had settled onto the couch, both Draco and his mother made more of an effort to make conversation. It took two hours of meaningless conversation before the Parkinsons left. Draco excused himself shortly after, almost hastily. Snape gazed after him thoughtfully. What in the world had the boy done this time, to anger his father like this?
He noticed how Lucius and Narcissa exchanged glances and braced himself. This whole evening had been going too smoothly. There had been no obvious reason to invite the Parkinsons, unless it was merely to serve as a distraction.
"Now, old friend, how are things in Hogwarts? Any news?" asked Lucius.
Snape shook his head. "The old fool doesn't tell me a whole lot and most of the teachers have gone home for the summer."
Lucius nodded. "What about Dumbledore's golden child? How does he spend his summer?"
Snape was on alert immediately. "I don't know where he is."
Lucius's smile was amused. "I wasn't asking where he is. But surely you know SOMETHING about him."
"Apart from how he's a spoiled, arrogant plague?" muttered Snape. "As far as I know, he spends his summer with the sister of his mother, Petunia, and her husband. They're called Duslys or something like that. Or maybe he's with the Weasleys since he's friends with Arthur's youngest, Ronald. Or he could be visiting that overachieving mudblood, Granger."
"Duslys?" asked Lucius. "That name doesn't ring a bell."
Snape grinned. "I'm not surprised. They're Muggles. Lily Evans was muggle-born, as you may remember."
"Muggle!" Lucius sounded shocked. "Draco said something along the lines, but I thought he was wrong. What was Dumbledore thinking?"
While the potions master noted the strange question, he decided to consider it later. "I assume he hopes that the boy will develop some sentimentality for Muggles. This strategy seems to be a success, considering his behavior."
Lucius appeared disgusted, which didn't surprise him.
"Spoiled, you say?"
"Well, he lacks respect. Thinks he's above the rules for regular humans. A typical Potter, if you ask me. Greedy for attention and uses any opportunity to take center stage."
"So, an utter boor."
"Indeed."
Lucius smirks. "Well, what was there to expect? Fame corrupts. Those Muggles he lives with probably treat him like their own personal saint."
"Boy, go and check the door! Make yourself useful, freak!"
It was a hot summer day, two weeks before Harry's sixteenth birthday. He was currently busy mopping the kitchen floor - on his knees, since aunt Petunia refused to buy a new mop after Dudley had broken the old one.
"Why would you need a mop, freak? At least you'll see all the dirt on the floor like this."
Harry wrung out the cloth and slowly got to his feet. He felt every single bruise. Uncle Vernon had begun beating him, when Harry refused to tell his friends that he was fine.
His uncle hadn't taken Moody's and everybody else's threat at the end of his last year at school well. The only thing it had accomplished, was that Vernon now controlled every single one of Harry's letters.
And that he beat him, when he didn't like their content.
Harry dried his hands and smiled bitterly, as he made his way to the door. If only these fools that saw him as their hero could see him now. Helpless against a simple Muggle. Draco Malfoy would be rolling on the floor, laughing.
Harry opened the door and was met with a pair of individuals, looking like they were on official business. The man had short, brown hair, and wore a dark suit and tie. The thin woman next to him had a sharp face and medium length brown hair, and was watching him over the rim of her glasses. She wore a black skirt suit and was holding a clipboard and a ballpen in one hand.
"Registry office, citizen survey," she said. "Is Mr. Dursley home?"
"One moment, please," muttered Harry, unsure what to think of these two.
He went to the living room, where his uncle sat in front of the TV.
"Uncle Vernon?"
"What is it, boy? I'm busy."
Harry flinched. "There are two people from the registry office at the door. They want to speak to you."
Vernon reluctantly rose to his feet and followed Harry to the door. The two civil servants had already moved into the hallway and were looking around.
"Registry office, citizen survey," said the man. "You're Mr. Dursley, I assume?"
"Correct," answered Vernon, visibly annoyed.
"My name is Miller and this is my colleague, Miss Butcher. We have a few brief questions."
Vernon only nodded.
"Is that your son?" asked the woman.
"Nephew," grumbled Vernon, struggling to hide away the disgust.
"Aha." She noted something on her clipboard.
"What is it, boy?" hissed Vernon. "Back to work."
He shoved Harry back into the kitchen and slammed the door shut after him.
"Excuse my nephew," Harry heard him through the door. "He's a bit stunted, if you know what I mean?"
"Does he live here?"
"Sadly, yes. He's the son of my wife's sister. The parents died in a car accident. They were a bit… Well, you don't talk about these things. Absolutely thankless, the boy."
Harry's hands cramped around the cloth as he wrung it angrily, imagining his hands were around Vernon's neck instead. Not that he'd ever dare touch his uncle. After all, he was forced to return to the Dursleys year after year thanks to his mother's blood and all that.
"So there are three people in this house?" asked the woman with clear disinterest.
"Four. My wife, Petunia, and my son, Dudley. Now that's a decent boy."
Vernon sounded much more pleased now. Harry furiously scrubbed at the floor as their voices grew faint. Vernon must have been showing them the house.
"And what's in here?" Harry was almost done, when the door opened.
"Just the kitchen," Vernon explained hastily.
Harry looked up and locked eyes with the two civil servants. He hesitantly got to his feet.
"What's this about, boy? No need to stop," Vernon snapped.
Harry felt blood rush into his face, but returned to his position on the floor. Despite the feeling of humiliation, he stared at the floor and continued his work.
"Isn't even willing to do his fair share of chores," he heard Vernon's voice, as he closed the door again. Harry grit his teeth and snorted. Fair share. Very funny. He scrubbed at the floor with enough vigor to wash it cleaner than it had ever been.
The two civil servants left Privet Drive and stepped into a nearby park. If someone had seen them, they would have been surprised as they disappeared into the bushes. As soon as they were hidden from prying eyes, the man balled his hands to fists.
"I'm going to KILL that Muggle."
The woman settled a calming hand on his arm, but her eyes also glistened with barely concealed rage.
"One thing at a time. We'll get our chance."
They disappeared with a "pop".
Hello Hermione,
I'm happy to hear that Ron and you finally got together. I didn't want to say anything, but… well, this has been obvious for quite a while. How is Crookshanks? Does he still love to catch gnomes? I wish I could visit the Weasleys as well.
Harry turned on his side and suppressed a groan. He had been stupid enough to object, when Vernon claimed that he had used magic to sprain Dudley's ankle. In reality, his cousin had stumbled when chasing Harry up the stairs for a beating.
I'm fine. I already finished most of my homework and I'm keen to get our OWL results. You probably got straight Os. Say hi to Ron from me. I hope we'll see each other soon.
Harry
Harry got up and went downstairs to show Vernon the letter. He sat in front of the TV together with Dudley and Petunia.
"Well?" his uncle snapped when Harry entered.
Harry held out the letter for him. Vernon frowned - probably due to the "OWLs" - but nodded. When the man didn't move to get up, Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"Uhm, Uncle Vernon?"
"Yes?"
"I'm supposed to be sending this letter today. You know how they want one every three days…"
Vernon was on his feet with surprising speed for a man of his build. He slapped Harry hard enough to send him tumbling to the floor.
"Didn't I tell you not to mention those freaks in my presence? Haven't you had enough for one day?"
"My apologies, Uncle Vernon," muttered Harry.
Petunia turned up the volume of the TV, and Vernon kicked Harry as he went past. He opened the cupboard under the stairs and tossed Hedwig's cage out into the hallway. The owl screeched angrily.
"Make sure to get that creature gone before it ends up in the soup."
Harry hurried to take his owl from her cage while Vernon returned to the living room.
"Hey, freak!" yelled Dudley. "I want another lemonade!"
Harry had barely released Hedwig through the window, when the doorbell rang.
"Get the door, boy!" roared Vernon.
With a sigh, Harry sat down the bottle of lemonade and headed for the door. He was surprised to find the two civil servants from the day before. The woman smiled at him, while the man looked past him, into the house. He was clearly looking for something.
"Where's my lemonade, freak?" Dudley kept yelling for him from the living room.
The woman's face darkened and she glared into the house.
"What's wrong? Don't you want to get your cousin his lemonade?" asked the man.
He wore a strange smile, and the woman shot him a confused glance before smiling as well.
"Yes, boy. Get him his lemonade."
Harry slowly retreated into the kitchen, where he grabbed the lemonade. Something was wrong.
When he entered the living room, both of the civil servants stood in the doorway, glaring at the Dursleys with obvious disgust. Vernon had gotten to his feet, staring back.
"What are you doing here? It's ten in the night! There's no way you're from the registry office."
This got Petunia's attention, and she turned towards them.
Harry wanted to back up, but the woman grabbed his arm and pulled him close. He tried to struggle free from her grip to no avail. The man wore a cruel smile that struck Harry as oddly familiar.
"Oh, we're just here to have a bit of fun," said the civil servant.
That arrogant tone of voice… it couldn't be…
"You should be in Azkaban!" Harry shouted.
The man regarded him with amusement and a bit of… pride? "Not any more."
Harry finally managed to twist out of the woman's grip and stumbled backwards. She had her wand pointed at him.
"Death Eater!" He yelled at the same moment as her "stupefy" hit him. The last thing he heard were Petunia's horrified screams and the laughter of the man, as his disguise disappeared to reveal a white mask.
"How could this happen?" Tears freely ran across Lupin's cheeks, but he wasn't ashamed.
Minerva was also crying. Dumbledore shook his head. He seemed older than usual. Ancient. His eyes glistened but didn't twinkle.
"I don't know. It should have been impossible," he whispered. "His mother's blood should have protected him."
"It was horrible," whispered Tonks. "The dark mark over the house… it burnt down to the ground. We could hear them screaming while we were trying to breach the barrier, but once we did, it was too late."
Moody nodded next to her. "Almost worse than back in the day."
Snape stood next to Dumbledore, rigid. "I need to go," he deadpanned suddenly.
Dumbledore only nodded as he left the office. Moody glared after him. "How can he…"
"He does what he needs to do," Dumbledore interrupted him tiredly. "Severus isn't good at showing his emotions. Maybe he feels guilty for what happened. He did warn me, but I didn't listen. Maybe he thinks that he should've been more insistent."
"You knew about this?" Lupin turned towards him in anger.
"There was a suspicion." Dumbledore's answer was barely audible. "But it was vague and I trusted the protective spells. I didn't think it was important."
"You didn't think it was important?" shouted Lupin.
"Remus," said Tonks.
"No! I can't believe this. I've had enough!" Lupin rushed out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him.
Dumbledore hid his face in his hands.
Hey! While our team mainly produces original content, we recently came to speak about this massive, almost 20 year old German fanfiction and realized that it somewhat influenced the type of stories we're producing now. Thus, we decided to translate it into English to make it more accessible. We'll be posting updates every Saturday.