All right folks, I'm back in the computer chair, with an empty Microsoft Word document in front of me, and a story idea swirling around in my head. And since I haven't a Pensieve to place it in, I've no choice other than to write it down, enter it into whatever competition Portkey is running for this novel. So I hope you enjoy, my writing has really evolved in the past two years, and I'm hoping I'll get your votes.
Title: Animal I Have Become
Rating: Pg-13 to light R. Nothing heavy, just maybe a little dark at times
Summary: After Voldemort's death, there is a new world, one without the fear of Dark Witches and Wizards. Hogwarts is safe, Harry, Hermione and Ron can all have the normal lives that they've dreamed of. However, there are two questions left unanswered. What becomes of those who had served Voldemort? And is there anyone dark enough to take Voldemort's place?
Disclaimer: All the characters belong to JK Rowling. I'm just playing with them. The lyrics used within this story belong to Three Days Grace. I'm just borrowing them.
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"Animal I Have Become"
I can't escape this hell
So many times i've tried
But i'm still caged inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can't control myself
So what if you can see the darkest side of me?
No one will ever change this animal I have become
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal
I can't escape myself
So many times i've lied
But there's still rage inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can't control myself
So what if you can see the darkest side of me?
No one will ever change this animal I have become
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal I have become
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal
Somebody help me through this nightmare
I can't control myself
Somebody wake me from this nightmare
I can't escape this hell
So what if you can see the darkest side of me?
No one will ever change this animal I have become
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal I have become
Help me believe it's not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal
It was over. That was the thought on everyone's mind, be they members of the Order, Death Eaters or innocent bystanders unwillingly dragged into the fray of the largest battle between good and evil that the world had ever seen. While the next thought was oftentimes that of future plans, of what could now be done, on the minds of several were heavier thoughts. Is this really the end? Is he really gone? What will happen to me now? Where do I go? What do I do? Many questions only the asker could answer. Though the answers were unknown to the askers. A vicious circle.
Harry James Potter was again a hero. Had withstood the Killing Curse twice, a feat never dreamed of by any witch or wizard. He hadn't intended to survive, had made his peace, and had decided that he would die. And he hadn't. He had survived. And he had become victorious, killing Lord Voldemort in the greatest battle ever recorded. Casualties had been high, the deaths of Fred, Remus and Tonks weighing heavily on his heart and mind, those of Mad Eye Moody, Dobby and Hedwig a little more removed, but nonetheless he still felt the painful pang of loss when they crossed his mind.
His eyes cascaded over the Great Hall, searching the faces, seeing many familiar, and just as many unfamiliar. Professors, students, members of the Order, loyal Aurors who had also arrived to fight, other supporters who had remained silent in their opinion until the battle had been raging. There were bodies in several chambers off of the Great Hall, those of Death Eaters tossed carelessly and with spite and anger while the others had been laid carefully, wrapped in cloths to cover injuries, placed reverently in their temporary resting place.
"Did you see them?"
The voice of Ronald Weasley snapped Harry out of his trance, and he turned to his friend, noticing the singed hair and the blood crusted on one of his cheeks. "See who?"
"The Malfoys. Lucius, Narcissa and Draco are all still here."
Harry followed Ron's gaze to the blonde trio seated at one of the tables, looking uneasy, unsure as to if they were going to be cared for or cursed. Draco was being flanked by his parents, and as he had a year earlier, Harry noticed how gaunt and sickly the man looked. His face was drawn, his body nearly skeletal, his eyes haunted. Harry tried to muster up the normal hatred he had for Draco, found that the only emotion he could find was sorrow. He didn't understand it, wasn't sure that he wanted to, but it was there, hovering just below the surface nonetheless and would demand examination at a later time.
"Narcissa saved my life." Harry rubbed his eyes, a headache forming behind them. "Voldemort wanted to make sure I was dead. She checked my pulse, and knew I was alive, asked me about Draco, but she told him I was dead. Without her, I would be dead, Voldemort would have won, and we would be ruled by Death Eaters."
"Shouldn't that have been what she wanted?" The question came from Hermione, who was standing on the other side of Ron. "For the Death Eaters to win that is?"
"She wanted her son."
"Don't tell me you think the Malfoy family is capable of love now, Harry. Herms, tell him he's bonkers!"
Harry shrugged. "I didn't think so either, Ron, but I know what they did for me, I know that Draco looks like he could drop dead any moment. I think they feel more than we thought."
"Think what you want." Ron's voice was full of spite, a testament to the seven years of torment he had suffered at the hand of Draco Malfoy, and to the generations of torture his family had suffered at the hand of the Malfoys.
" I don't know for sure, but I do know one thing. I owe Narcissa a thank you. She's as responsible for what happened tonight as anyone else. Whether she wanted it or not, she helped us."
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Draco looked between his parents, his clear blue eyes darting around the Great Hall, unsure of how to act. "I really think that we should leave."
Lucius turned his head slightly to look at his son. "If we do anything but what they want us to do, they will arrest us all and put us in Azkaban."
"They're going to do that anyway! At least if we leave we'll have a fighting chance!" Draco was panicked, a fear he had never known gnawing at his gut, making him feel ill and dizzy.
He hadn't really wanted any of it. He'd grown up with it, had been raised around it, to worship the Dark Lord and pray fervently for his return. He had chosen to go to Slytherin consciously and with no regret. It was where he had wanted to be. He had waited for his moment to be inducted into the Death Eaters for his entire life. And when it had come time to do so, to take his rightful place among the ranks, to serve the very man he had been taught to worship, he had realized he would rather play Quidditch and kiss pretty girls. He didn't want to hunt, torture, maim and kill innocent people, people who were simply trying to protect themselves. He wanted a normal life.
But he had bitten the proverbial Muggle bullet and taken the Mark, the pain of it still a haunting memory. He had followed orders given to him, though when it had counted the most, he had neglected to kill Dumbledore. He had spent the previous year being Voldemort's puppet, trying to revive his family name, being sent on missions that Death Eaters far older than him were scared to take on. It had occurred to him many months earlier that Voldemort was trying to kill him without being the one to cast the curse. With that realization, Draco had found himself praying that someone would put a stop to it. Whether that was by killing him or defeating Voldemort, he hadn't cared, so long as the pain, the regret, the constant fear and self loathing stopped.
Voldemort had been defeated, the battle was over. And Draco was now faced with a new set of questions, a new set of problems. What to do with himself, who to be, where to go? He feared that he was evil, that he would continue to be. The things he had done, had been a party to were unforgivable, and he feared what Voldemort had turned him in to.
Draco could feel the dark inside of himself, the small writhing part of his soul that had relished the pain and sorrow of others. And he feared it. The much larger part of his soul that rejoiced at the new beginning he hoped that he could have cowered in fear of that small piece, so great was its evil. He knew that should that small part of his soul grow larger, it would not be long before it would overcome him, and he would become something like Lord Voldemort had been. What he had been taught to hope for, to pray for each morning and each night- to be like Voldemort - was now his greatest fear.
Narcissa's hand shook Draco from his thoughts, and his blue eyes snapped back into focus, settling on the pretty, ragged features of his mother. "What?"
His voice was short, and Draco instantly regretted the tone in which he had said that one tiny word. Narcissa lifted her hand and studied her son thoughtfully for several long seconds. "Draco, we're all scared. None of us know what comes now. After all those years of serving the Dark Lord faithfully, doing whatever was asked of us, trudging on with what we believed was right even after we thought that he was dead, we now find ourselves in a position where it has become completely obvious that Voldemort wanted nothing but power and each of us were only a means to that end. The only thing left to do is hope the Ministry and the Order are more merciful than Voldemort would have been and try to pick up the pieces of our lives. Move on."
It was eerie how his mother seemed to read his mind sometimes. Draco didn't know whether to nod in mute agreement or to speak, to somehow add to the conversation. That question, however, was thankfully answered when Professor McGonagall's voice rang out into the Great Hall, silencing every conversation.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, Madam Pomfrey would like to see all those needing medical care in the nurses office. Assistance from St. Mungo's has arrived, and less serious injuries can now be treated." She waited several seconds for all the hurt to hobble, walk and limp from the room, then continued. "Furthermore, I would like to say unequivocally that Hogwarts will be reopening in one week's time. We are going to complete the school year and as Deputy Headmistress, I will be serving as Headmistress until such time that the Ministry of Magic has reconvened, dealt with those matters much more pressing as of present, and can appoint a new Headmaster or Headmistress. In the fall, things will resume as normal. We will be fully staffed, fully operational, and opening our doors to a new class of wonderfully talented witches and wizards."
McGonagall paused to take a drink from a chipped goblet on the table, and her eyes softened as she scanned the sea of faces upon which she looked. When she began to speak again, her voice was softer, and all who were listening knew the speech was turning more serious.
"We've suffered a great loss here today. Many lives have been needlessly ended, the rest of our lives immeasurably affected. It will take centuries for the rifts to be fully repaired, and I fear as witches and wizards were marked by their parentage in the past, so will they be marked by the loyalty of their family now and in the future. I want to make it clear that Hogwarts will never give precedence to one person over another because of where the family stood in the battle today. In a time of war, lines are blurred, and I know Harry Potter, who has been a champion against Death Eaters for seven years, saved the lives of two of them last night. On the other side of the story, it has been brought to my attention that without the assistance of Narcissa Malfoy, Harry Potter would not have remained alive long enough to kill Lord Voldemort. At Hogwarts, and I hope the world over, there is a blank slate. I pray that loyalties are forgotten, the wounds are healed and that we can proceed forward together. We've lost enough here tonight, and I cannot see a reason for one more drop of blood to be shed."
With that, McGonagall sat down, tears shining in her old eyes. The Hall remained silent for several seconds, her words sinking in, no one quite sure how to respond. Harry turned to his two best friends, placed a hand on each shoulder. "She's right, you know. We can't hold grudges or we're no better than they were. We'll turn into Death Eaters of a different breed."
Hermione nodded. "I can't forget what they did, Harry. But I'll grant you this; if I am treated civilly, then no one will hear a word of complaint from me. I can forgive bad decisions and mistakes. If that's what they really want."
After a long pause, Ron nodded tersely. "You'll get no better from me, mate. But I'll match what Hermione just said."
Harry didn't respond for a moment, and when he did, his voice was solemn. "I just hope that's enough."
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