The Wish: Sunnydale in Scottland Remix III
Draco snuck back into the castle with ease. It was well past curfew, and the corridors were empty and quiet. He glanced longingly at the tapestry concealing the entrance to the Slytherin dungeon, but pressed on.
After a few wrong turns, Draco found himself back in the long curving corridor lined with cells. A quick glance told him that more students than before had been imprisoned. Draco found himself hesitating outside a cell where a tiny, blonde-haired, first year girl lay sprawled on the floor. He tried to imagine what it would be like to watch the magic sucked right out of her.
At the end of the corridor, Draco nearly stumbled over his wand, left lying in the middle of the floor. Gratefully he scooped it up and tried not to retch as he wiped the bloody fingerprints off the handle. Ginny was sitting in a corner humming quietly to herself, her face, hands, and clothes streaked with blood. He glanced into the cell which had housed Sirius Black, only to see a great ugly black dog lying on the floor, licking its wounds. It growled at Draco and barred its teeth, so he backed away quickly.
"Ginny," he said quickly. "Has Ron been down here?"
"Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie," Ginny sang softly, worrying a loose thread on her sleeve.
"Listen to me, you crazy corpse," Draco said, squatting down in front of her. He gagged at the coppery smell of blood when he came close to her. "Has anyone been down here since I left?"
Ginny's eyes focused reluctantly on his face and she shook her head slowly. "The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes," she sang softly, "when along came a blackbird and snipped off her nose!" She reached out and tweaked Draco's nose, and he stood up abruptly.
"You're completely raving, aren't you, then?" he said disdainfully. "I don't think the Dark Lord did a very good job bringing you back. He obviously forgot your brain."
Ginny looked up at him and her lip began to quiver slightly. Draco scowled. If there was one thing he couldn't stand more than a clingy girl, it was a crying, clingy girl.
"I didn't want to come back," she whispered, and Draco froze. "But Tom... Tom said that Ron needed me and..." Suddenly her expression changed. Her eyes glazed over and returned to their previous vacant stare. She got to her feet then, swiping unconcernedly at her face with the back of her hand, humming her nursery rhymes again.
"Tom will make everything right," she said as she walked past Draco. "He'll give you power too, if I tell him to." Draco turned to watch her go. "He loves me," she continued, not really addressing him any more, just speaking to herself. "Just like Ron loves me. Only, Tom loves me because I gave him a body..."
Just then, Draco heard the sound of footfalls coming from the opposite direction. Not sure if he was ready to be discovered, Draco ducked into the nearest empty cell. After a moment, he heard footsteps moving slowly, cautiously down the corridor towards him. As the figure passed, he chanced a glance out and almost choked with surprise.
He was wearing severe black robes with a high collar and long, fitted sleeves. His normally absurd black hair was clipped short to his skull, in an almost military style, and his wand was grasped firmly in his fist.
Draco's throat began to close up. He's not supposed to be here! he thought, irrational anger boiling up inside him. Before long, however, his rational side concerned with self-preservation took over: if Harry Potter was here, in this world, maybe that meant that they were somehow drawing closer to the world Draco knew.
He was about to speak when a strange rustling noise came from the last cell. Potter crouched down in a fighting stance, his wand pointed into the cell and Draco froze, keeping to the shadows.
"J-James?" a voice croaked from behind the bars. Draco craned his neck trying to see who was speaking. "But you're -- am I? Am I dead?"
Potter very slowly relaxed his stance, never moving his wand. "You certainly smell like you ought to be," he said with a sneer in his voice, "but no, I don't think you're dead. Yet."
"Then how...."
"My name isn't James," Potter suggested. "It's Harry Potter."
There was a long silence, and then a sound that made the hairs stand up on the back of Draco's neck; it was primal, something between a howl and a sob with a hint of laughter mixed in.
"Harry!" A hand shot out from between the bars and grabbed Potter's arm. He wrenched himself free immediately and pointed his wand more vigorously at the person in the cell. "What are you doing here? You have to get out of -- we have to get out of here!"
"I'm here to kill Voldemort," Potter said simply, "and I'm not leaving until I do." He watched Black for a moment before asking, "Who are you?"
"Sirius! Sirius Black. I -- I'm your godfather. Or I was, before..."
Potter seemed to consider this new information. "You murdered my parents," he said levelly.
"No!" Black exclaimed. "I was framed. Peter was the one who-- Let me out of here, Harry. I'll show you. I'll prove it to you."
"Why should I believe you?" Potter demanded.
"You have no reason to," Black admitted, "but believe that I want revenge on the people who did this to me. They've kept me caged here like an animal for almost two years. They're the same people responsible for your parents' deaths. Let me out of here, Harry, and I'll show you. I'll help you defeat him."
"Do you have a wand?" Potter asked reasonably. Black must have indicated that he did not. Potter stood very still for another moment, considering, before saying, "Alohamora," and unlocking the cell door.
Stupid Potter, Draco thought with a slight shake of his head. Thought you were supposed to be so clever! Serve you right if he kills you...
"Stay out of my way," Potter said simply and turned and kept walking.
For a moment, Draco vacillated, wondering if he should approach Potter with what he knew. The idea of letting him walk into a trap was almost too good to be true, but as he walked by, Draco felt something in his brain give. "Bollocks," he said softly, and stepped out into the corridor.
"Oy! Potter!"
Potter swung around to face him, wand at the ready. Draco's wand was clutched familiarly in his own fist, but he didn't want to use it if he didn't have to.
"Who are you?"
Draco blinked at him indignantly. "What do you mean, who am--"
"That's Draco Malfoy," Black said, emerging from his cell. Draco glanced behind him and was slightly taken aback by the look of utter hatred pasted across the face of the cousin he'd never actually met. "Lucius Malfoy's son. He's a Death Eater, Harry."
"Fat lot you know," Draco said indignantly. "Look, Potter I've got some information--"
"Don't trust him!" Black shouted. "He's nothing more than Ron Weasley's trained pet."
"Hang on!" Draco shouted, twisting around to yell at Black. "I'm nobody's--"
"Harry, wait!" Black shot past him towards Potter who was apparently uninterested in what either of them had to say. Sighing, Draco chased after them.
"Would you just hold on and listen for a minute!" Draco said impatiently, catching up to them at the end of the corridor. "Look, I'm trying to help you, Potter. Your friends -- they're not your friends here."
Harry gave him an incredulous frown, his eyes narrowing, his thick brows drawing together slightly. "Friends?" he repeated in such a cynical tone it set Draco's teeth on edge. "I don't have any friends."
Draco frowned as Potter brushed past him. This was not the Harry Potter from his world after all.
Draco suddenly felt very alone.
It wasn't long before Ron returned with Crabbe, Goyle, Montague, Nott, and a few others trailing his heels. Ron gave no indication that he was aware that Draco had ever left the dungeons, so Draco played it cool, throwing in a few complaints about how long he'd been down in the damp just for good measure.
He stayed out of the way as much as possible when the others began rounding up the students from the cells. They were, in fact, under some sort of spell, as they moved like life sized mannequins, standing when you stood them, walking when you pushed them, and so on. Before long, the whole lot of them was marching single file behind Ron out of the dungeons. Draco brought up the rear, looking shiftily into the shadows, wondering where Potter would make his stand. It wouldn't do to be caught in the crossfire; this wasn't his battle, after all.
The silent procession made its way to the Great Hall without incident. When Draco entered the room, however, he nearly retched.
Lying spread out across the room were half a dozen bodies. Most of them were adults that Draco didn't recognize, but one of them -- presently being hauled out of the room by several burly Slytherins -- was Professor Umbridge. A dark stain of blood trailed behind her as they dragged her across the flagstone floor, and Draco turned quickly aside, clutching his stomach and trying not to be sick. Near the high table, a young man with sharp features and dark hair was dusting his hands on his robes, and speaking to a group of Death Eaters, many of whom Draco did recognize. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw his father emerge from the room behind the high table and join their group.
"Draco!" Ron called, pointing to a cage into which the captive students were being herded. Reluctantly, Draco took up his place at the door, guarding it. It was only as he watched Ron walking away that he saw it: the door.
Everyone else in the room was preoccupied with their own tasks. The myriad candles floating overhead cast an eerie glow over the scene and sent a shiver down Draco's spine. He had a bad feeling about all of this, and a sour taste at the back of his throat.
The young man walked briskly to Dumbledore's seat at the head of the high table, and made the table disappear with a flick of his wand. Ginny Weasley appeared out of nowhere wearing clean robes and sat at his feet, humming quietly to herself while she stared up at the young man with unabashed adoration.
"Bring out the device," the young man commanded. Draco watched in confusion as the senior Death Eaters all rushed about to do his bidding. He wondered who this young upstart was; he didn't think he recognized him from school.
Before Draco could draw any conclusions, however, the device the young man had called for was rolled into the room.
It was a chair, or had been, originally, but its designers had thought fit to accessorize it with chains and shackles intended to hold its victim in place, and, above the headrest, an enormous hollow metal spike.
Draco stood perfectly still as Goyle's father brushed past him, went into the cage, and pulled out a student. The poor sop didn't even put up a fight, his eyes wide and glassy, staring out into the hazy middle distance. While the others were busy watching Goyle Senior strap the student into the chair, Draco sidled towards the door. He kept one eye on the device, and the other firmly on Ron, who was staring off into space as though he were listening to something that no one else could hear.
Draco drew his wand, expecting to have to do some very impressive spell work to be able to break the charm on the lock. To his surprise, he felt the charm dissipate the moment he touched the bolt. It slid back with a satisfying click, which luckily went unnoticed by any of the others in the Hall.
"We are pleased," the young man said, an oily smile spreading across his dark features. "We will reward you all once the new era of purification begins."
Draco sneered. What a ponce, he thought viciously. Just who does he think he is, the Queen Mum?
"The specimen is ready, my lord," Draco's father said with a little bow, and Draco's eyes widened as he realized who the young man must be.
"Proceed," the Dark Lord said with a wave of his hand.
Draco's father drew his wand. The needle-like spike began to lower and slid neatly into the top of the boy's head, at which point Draco turned away, expecting there to be a great quantity of blood. There wasn't; there was merely an odd sort of hum that he didn’t so much hear as feel deep in his bones. Everyone in the Hall seemed enthralled by it, and no one noticed when the side door slid quietly open.
"Get the students out," Lupin whispered, motioning for Granger and a few of the others to move towards the cage. Lupin himself straightened, pointed his wand, and shouted "Stupefy!"
The bolt of red light hit Draco's father squarely in the chest. Draco didn't even have time to cry out in surprise before all hell broke lose. Students were fighting Death Eaters both old and young wherever he looked. Quickly he retreated into a corner to wait it out and see who would come out on top.
Granger was the first to reach the cage and had the door open in seconds. Longbottom and several others rushed in and began using enervate to revive the students inside. Before Granger could join them, however, a spell flew past her, missing her by a hair's breadth. She turned to face her attacker and shouted "Avada kedavra!"
Ron Weasley was dead before he hit the ground. His rat scurried off into the shadows as Granger stepped over his body unceremoniously, headed into the cage to help the others.
Ginny saw her brother fall and shrieked like some unholy demon. Leaping up, she raced down from the high table and tackled Granger, sending her sprawling to the ground. Draco flinched at the ungodly, animalistic noises coming out of the tiny girl's throat as she ripped and beat and tore. A figure dressed in black swooped past, hexing her with a word. Draco watched as Ginny fell forward onto Hermione's inert frame. Draco couldn't be sure, but it seemed as though they might both be dead.
It took Draco a moment to recognize that the figure in black was Harry Potter. He moved with confidence and authority, hexing Death Eaters right and left as they realized what was happening and formed ranks around their leader. Behind him, Sirius Black had turned to approach the cages.
"Sirius!" Lupin yelled, and Black's head whipped around at the sound of his own name. His eyes went wide.
"Remus," he said, his voice thick with disbelief. "Remus! I knew you would come! I waited for you--"
"Wait on the other side, then," Lupin said firmly. A flash of green light erupted from his wand and hit the other man in the chest. Sirius looked down, surprise written across his lined face.
Draco thought he heard Sirius say the word "Moony," as he fell, but he couldn't be certain. Lupin never looked back.
"Harry Potter," a cold voice said, ringing out above the din as though it had been spoken directly into Draco's ear. "We meet again -- for the first time. Dumbledore must think you are finally ready to face me. How droll."
"Dumbledore is dead," Harry replied.
The Dark Lord laughed, a cold, high-pitched, mirthless laugh. "Did you kill him?"
"No. Does it matter? I’m here of my own volition, Tom. This ends tonight."
The fighting around them seemed to slow then stopped as everyone in the Hall turned to watch the two wizards taking centre stage.
"Are you prepared to kill me, Harry?" Voldemort demanded.
"If I can," Harry replied. "Either way, it's done. And I want it done."
"Be careful what you wish for," Voldemort said ominously. "En guard, Harry Potter."
The opponents bowed to one another and took their stances to duel. Draco pressed himself back into the corner, marveling at the stupidity of observing dueling standards at a time like this. The Hall held its breath.
Draco wasn't sure who said the first curse. The spells were flying too fast and too many for him to even be able to tell who was winning. The Dark Lord threw killing curses at Potter with alarming speed, but Harry, for his part, blocked each one in turn, occasionally finding an opening to send a curse of his own flying towards his opponent.
And then it was over. Harry Potter lay sprawled across the floor, but he was not dead. Draco could see his chest heaving, could see the blood pooling around his head. Lupin cried out and charged towards him, only to be cut down in mid-stride.
Draco turned away, unable to look at the blood spilling across the floor as Voldemort approached to stand over Potter and cast his final curse. But everywhere Draco looked was more carnage, more bodies, more blood.
"I want it done," Potter rasped.
"This isn't right," Draco whispered to himself, clutching his wand and trying not to be sick. "This isn't the way things are supposed to be!" He didn't know exactly how he thought things were supposed to be any more, but clearly, this wasn't it.
Draco backed himself into a corner and continued muttering to himself, shaking his head as though it might dislodge the visions in his brain of the disturbing scene before him. It had all gone wrong somewhere. Somewhere between the Quidditch game and dinner that night, something had gone horribly wrong. "I wish I knew what the hell was going on," he muttered angrily.
And suddenly it occurred to him. The nurse. The potion. Their conversation echoed in his ears, and he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Had he somehow done all this by wishing... Had that nurse given him a wishing potion?
It was almost too good to be true.
A terrible, high pitched laughing filled his ears. But it wasn't in his ears -- it was in his head! Draco screwed his eyes shut, crying out and pressing his fists to his temples.
Such a clever boy, a voice hissed in his brain, and so predictable. We knew exactly what you would wish for... The voice laughed again and Draco fell forward, his knees hitting the stone floor and sending streaks of pain shooting up through his legs. You gave us Potter, Hogwarts, and soon, the world...
"This isn't how things are supposed to be!" Draco growled, fighting against the voice in his brain.
It laughed again, and the pain of the sound was almost unbearable. Haven't you figured it out yet, my son? Everything is happening exactly as it was meant to happen -- exactly as we wish it to happen...
Wish. Draco's eyes snapped open. He had wished to know what was going on, and suddenly he had; the potion was still working.
"I wish..." he whispered, his stomach tightening. It was his only chance to get back to his world. "I wish I had never taken the wishing potion!"
"I wish Harry Potter had never come to Hogwarts!" Draco said angrily.
He looked around. The infirmary was empty. He suddenly felt very foolish for having spoken aloud. Dwelling on what might have been was for the weak, he decided, grabbing his jumper from the foot of the bed and pulling it on.
Still, he felt strange, relieved somehow; it was as though he had just woken from a nightmare, and realized that it was all a bad dream.
But that was rubbish. He hadn't even been asleep. Slipping his feet into his shoes, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and headed down towards the Great Hall. His mind wandered as he walked, and strange images kept coming to him that he couldn't quite place; cold hands, blue flames, gallons and gallons of blood. He shivered.
The Great Hall was warm and noisy as he entered. He could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on him as he slid into his customary seat between Crabbe and Goyle and across from Pansy, but he ignored them. The feeling that was niggling at the back of his brain was stronger.
"Good game, Draco," Pansy simpered, "it was a really close thing."
Draco blinked at her. "What?"
"The Quidditch match," Pansy said with a little frown. "I said it was really close."
Draco stared at her a moment longer, when some movement across the hall caught his eye. Harry Potter had just walked into the Hall with Fred Weasley, his shoulders hunched forward, hands jammed deep into his pockets, a pronounced scowl on his face. They made their way quickly up the Gryffindor table to where Ron, Hermione, and George were already seated. Harry sat down and began talking animatedly with his friends at once. Bloody, stupid, Harry Potter...
"You feelin' alright, Malfoy?" Crabbe asked.
Draco blinked at him, the strange sensation of deja vu rapidly dissipating. This is right, something in his brain told him. This is how things are meant to be.
"I'm fine," he said briskly, dismissing the strange thoughts. "They barely knocked the wind out of me. They fight like girls, the both of them. They just caught me by surprise is all. If I'd been able to get off a clean punch at either of them..."