Shadows of Light

Shadows of Light

Chapter Two



Draco thought that even if he didn't know which compartment harbored the most destitute scum of the wizarding world, he would have found it easily, judging by the flamboyant tirade that radiated from the closed sliding door. He was sure that nearly half of the train could hear Ron Weasley's furious yells of favoritism and Ferret-faced twit.

Draco turned, smirking, to the closed compartment in which his carrot topped foe was still screaming about the unfairness of the universe. Taking this opportunity, Draco pushed the compartment door ajar. The door creaked slightly when Draco slid it open, however it was silenced instantly by Weasley's voice, now magnified without the thick compartment door stifling most of the sound. A few people poked their heads out of their compartments in curiosity, mostly Prefects eager to see another fight between the opposite elemental opponents. Potter and Granger sat in the same seat staring at their scarlet-faced friend, while the youngest of the Weasel clan had seated herself across from them.

"--and what's more! That blistering bleached twit got off! I swear Snape is one of the most bigoted... " Hermione's small shriek stopped the fuming Weasel in mid-sentence. Ron, who had been standing with his back to the door, turned sharply to face the direction in which Hermione was staring open-mouthed.

"The most bigoted what, Weasley? I'm sure he'd be interested to hear... "

"If you know what's good for you Malfoy, you'll steer your sneering Ferret face out of our compartment before I bloody you up!" Ron hollered his face reddening rapidly. Draco's anger began to escalate again upon the Weasel's second intrusion on his retort, but he refused to let them see just how much his fire-haired adversary had infuriated him. He would control his anger, for now.

Irritatingly enough, Malfoy only sneered at this suggestion turning his eyes to rest irately on the fuming Weasel. "Ready to fight me, are you?" he smirked, reaching slowly for his own wand that rested in his expensive black wizard's robes. "I wouldn't advise it Weasley; you wouldn't want me to embarrass you in front of your friends, and we don't need you bringing any more shame on your family's name, now, do we?"

Harry glared at Malfoy. "Ron isn't the son of a filthy stinking Death Eater rotting in Azkaban, Malfoy. I'd say that's a pretty hypocritical comment, wouldn't you?"

The blood coursing through Draco's body surged as a fresh rush of adrenaline mounted his anger. His face grew red. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles threateningly. Draco gave no forewarning of his attack, except straitening up to his full six-foot height, his silver eyes glaring at the offending messy-haired, four-eyed, back-stabbing mongrel himself

Blind fury dictated his movements. Draco was moving towards Potter, who had raised himself from his seat. A heavy blow fell into his torso causing him to stagger slightly from its intensity. Reacting with reflexes born of a seeker, he turned to the Weasel in question and landed a punch to the side of his freckled face. Neither Hermione nor Ginny made any movements to stop the fight, finding it difficult enough to restrain themselves from losing all dignity and joining in.

With no such dilemma as gender holding him back, Harry jumped in the fight that he would normally be trying to prevent. But his anger was pounding furiously in his ears drowning out his meager voice of logic and his fists seemed to be propelled by something other than his physical strength.

Malfoy felt Potter's fists pummeling his stomach, pushing him forcibly into the hard wall. Crabbe and Goyle were too busy with Weasley, who was struggling like an angered bear to get his freckled hands back on Draco's throat, to see their master's situation. Draco let out a low growl and struck out at Potter. Surprised by the sudden clout to the side of his face, Harry stopped his assault on the blonde-haired Slytherin to clutch his throbbing cheek. This proved to be a mistake as Draco's fist came down hard in his taut stomach. Ron broke free of Crabbe's and Goyle's flailing fists to come to his best mate's aid. He threw an uppercut into Malfoy's jaw efficiently wiping the satisfied smirk of his pale face.

Suddenly Hermione was there pulling Ron off of Draco, casting a worried look his way. Ron struggled violently, but Hermione refused to let him go. It seemed she was much stronger than she appeared to be. Ginny was helping Harry to his feet, her face flaming with unshed anger.

Harry was breathing heavily, a black and blue bruise blooming on his jaw line. He was leaning heavily on the Weaselette's small frame, as she struggled to keep him standing. "Get out," he spat, his words laced with a hatred Draco never knew the hero was capable of. Malfoy ran his tongue over his split lip, welcoming the metallic taste of blood. Crabbe and Goyle stood by the window awkwardly, glancing at him for instructions. "You wait Potter, you just wait; this isn't over." His voice was low and menacing but Harry kept his stolid look of loathing directed towards his platinum enemy. "Come on." His cronies lumbered after him and with one last malicious look at the foursome, Malfoy slammed the door shut in their flushed faces.

Malfoy muttered a quick spell pointing his wand at himself. He was rewarded by the feeling of aches and bruises healing rapidly. The pain he would never admit to as a result of the fight eased and he ran a pink tongue over his lip, which was no longer split. The rest of the train ride passed in an uneventful haze for Draco Malfoy with no other violent encounters to speak of with Potter or his ever-present sidekick. Almost directly after they got back into the compartment, the witch who pushed the trolley knocked on the door. Malfoy pulled out a couple of Galleons, and gave them to Crabbe and Goyle. Their piggy eyes lit up when they saw the massive amounts of food they could get with the money Draco had supplied. Not long after, the compartment door had slid shut once again and a seat was completely covered in Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whizbees and any other wizard candy imaginable. Crabbe and Goyle weren't much for talking when there was food around. Come to think of it, they weren't much for talking when there wasn't food around either, but Malfoy decided he liked them better when there was food.

This left Draco to do nothing but stare out the window at the passing countryside. He grinned smugly to himself when the thought of the upcoming school-year came to mind. He hadn't been lying when he said that Potter hadn't won. Once the plan was put into action, Potter would be begging for mercy. If all went well, he would have a very high position in the Dark Lord's court, very high indeed!

~*~

It was dark outside when the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station in Hogsmeade. Draco stepped out into the cool night air, feeling the refreshing breeze on his face. He looked up at the gleaming stars beginning to form in the dark blue sky. It was one of the few things he enjoyed... the stars... shining proud against the inky blackness of the night sky, so high above everything else... not unlike himself.

Suddenly, a loud booming voice jerked Draco out of his reverie. "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! C'mon, follow me--any more firs' years? Firs' years follow me!" Draco felt himself being shoved to the side as the massive form of Hagrid and a crowd of timid first years pushed through to get to the lake. He cursed to himself.

Behind Draco's back, Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly, the elements of a plan forming in their tiny brains. Draco watched nonchalantly as Goyle stuck out his foot in the midst of the hurrying throng. After that, it seemed as if everything happened in slow motion.

A boy tripped on the tree trunk that was Goyle's thick leg. He fell down, pulling a mousy-haired girl with him. The girl screamed as she fell and three students stopped dead in their tracks behind the fallen pair, causing the people behind them to bump into each other and lose their balance. Not long after, the assembly that was once the First Year Class turned into a large mass of tangled arms and legs.

An almighty roar pierced the humid night air as Hagrid turned his great hairy head to witness the stumbling multitude. His beetle black eyes looked around in anger. "Who's responsible for this?" he demanded probing the masses. Crabbe and Goyle sauntered away before Hagrid's eyes turned on them, Draco leading the way. All three of them were shaking in boorish laughter when they reached the thestral-driven carriages. When the carriage set off with its three inhabitants, Draco gave way to the mirth engulfing him from inside.

The enchanted ceiling was littered with bright stars above the four long parallel tables. Draco seated himself at the Slytherin Table majestically, as if there were no other table in the colossal room worth being graced with his presence. His lazy gaze traveled slowly over the three remaining House's gathered at their long tables, then stopped to rest on the Gryffindor's. They would get hurt the worst when Potter was killed at the hand of Lord Voldemort. How little they knew, chatting and laughing carelessly, unaware of Draco's steely gaze upon them. Then they would learn, all of them, that no one fucked with a Malfoy. He tore his glare away from the sickening house table to rest upon his own.

Most Slytherins spoke in urgent secretive whispers or not at all. Others sulked in moody confinement. Draco's concentration turned to the two bulky figures sitting on his left. They were still laughing idiotically about tripping those stupid First Years.

And speaking of First Years... Professor McGonagall strode into the hall a long line of anxious looking students trailing after her. Every pair of eyes now rested on the patched hat that sat on a three legged stool in the middle of the floor. A familiar rip tore at the seam and the mouth opened extensively. The Sorting Hat began to sing almost dutifully in it's slow out-of-key voice:

I see you've made it to Hogwarts,

A profitable task in itself.

And it is my job to assign you a house

Before I'm placed back on the shelf.

There is not a head in this hall,

On which the Sorting Hat hasn't been tried.

It is my duty after all,

To search into the delves of your minds.

You might be best-fitted for Gryffindor,

A heroic and courageous lot.

They pride themselves in many ways,

On brave victories in battles fought.

Or perhaps you belong in Hufflepuff,

Where the good and faithful reside.

In times of trouble, they always know,

Which is the fairest side.

You could fit in with Ravenclaw,

If you possess an intelligent mind.

Where use of their keen intellect,

Solves puzzles of any kind.

Or yet in cunning Slytherin,

Where those of slyness laze.

They will not cease fighting for their cause,

Until they meet their graves.

So, I invite you to step up to the stool,

And place me atop your head.

I'll sort you correctly, I promise you this,

So relax, you've nothing to dread.

After the song ended, and the tumultuous applause coming from mainly the other three houses had faded, Professor McGonagall turned to the procession of First Years and spoke in a loud audible voice. "When I call your name, you will place the Sorting Hat on your head and be sorted into your houses." This said, she pulled out a long scroll and began to read the names.

Draco watched in a reticent daze as the numerous students were sorted. He did, however, pay close attention to the students that entered Slytherin.

"Abercrombie, Evin" was the first student to be sorted. He stumbled to the sorting hat and put it on his head with trembling fingers. "GRYFFINDOR!" He stood up and joined his brother at the rambunctious Gryffindor table.

Next was that mousy looking girl that had been tripped by Goyle. She, unsurprisingly, went to Hufflepuff. Draco reflected that if he had been sorted into Hufflepuff, he would have left, not that that would have ever happened. Definitely not to a Malfoy who were known to be elevated Slytherins.

Draco didn't pay attention much to the rest of the ceremony, except to yet another Creevy, this time a girl who was sorted into Gryffindor. She seemed to be just as taken with Potter as her siblings were. Draco's eyes rested on the youngest Weasley. She was sitting next to Dean Thomas and he had his arm around her. A fresh wave of nausea hit Draco.

The last to be sorted, Zabini Aiden, sauntered proudly towards the Slytherin table and took a seat beside Blaise. He wore a contented smirk, and Draco thought he was someone he could get along with, as long as he knew his place.

He gave a quick critique of the new Slytherins. From what he could tell by their surnames, most of their parents were servants of the Dark Lord, although not as highly ranked as the likes of his father, and soon enough, himself. The Malfoy name still commanded a certain respect in the house of Slytherin even though Lucius Malfoy had been imprisoned by Harry Potter.

Dumbledore stood up wearing a sincere smile as he looked upon his students. He spoke a few well-chosen words then took his seat. The tables magically filled with mouth-watering cuisine. There was an audible gasp from many First Year students. Draco noted amusedly that none of the Slytherin First Years looked very impressed. Good, he thought to himself, filling his plate up with large portions of roast beef, pork chops, sausages, bacon, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, and a few peppermint humbugs, which he happened to like. He took a swig from his goblet and set to work on his meal.

The night finished in a dull blur for Draco Malfoy. The feast ended and he led the mass of Slytherin First Years to the Slytherin common room along with Pansy, spoke the new password: vela cadunt , and settled himself down in front of the weak fire while everyone else, including Crabbe and Goyle, retired to their chambers.

The cold fire that flickered morosely in the aristocratic hearth lit the high stone walls with its weak iridescent light. Draco stared at the flames licking the cool stones. His gray eyes transfixed on the restless blaze, which reminded himself of the anger that simmered just as restlessly beneath his own cool surface. Finally, he stood up and padded up to his dormitory. His roommates all asleep, judging by the loud snores protruding from under Crabbe and Goyle's divans, Draco climbed into his lavish four-poster and pulled the green and silver covers up over his muscular body. Soon enough things would begin to revolutionize and he finally satisfy this gnawing urge to avenge the injustice done to his father and the Malfoy name, he mused tensely, before slipping under the cover of sleep.

~*~ Now chapters one and two coincide! Yay! I know the story doesn't seem to be taking on much of a plot right now, but, trust me, I have plans for this story, I promise the plot will become more clear in the chapters to come. Please review, it ensures that you like what you read and that I should continue. Thanks! O, and don't worry about chapter three, if it doesn't quite tie in with one and two, it's because I haven't revised it yet. But it shall!