Burning Butterflies

Puppets and Shadows

Nothing could ever be the same for Harry Potter. The norm, as normal as it ever could be for a famous young wizard, was dead. His Godfather, his closest thing to a parent, his lifeline, was gone. Sirius Black was gone. The horrific truth lingered like smoke from an extinguished candle throughout Harry's life; faintly dancing, taunting him. Sixteen years old, he had past the unfathomable point of no return. He lingered in the darkness in the back of his mind; fell deeply into a shadow world of insecurity. Harry Potter now saw the world in a new light: without light.

This is your Harry, Draco. You thought to yourself.

'This is how you've always wanted him.

He is sadistic, disturbed and tormented. He has lost his "Golden Boy" mask.

You have waited for this day, Draco. Now his costume is lost, time to give up your "daddy's little boy" act. Time for "mommy's little monster." At last, your time has come.

I am your nightmare.

Draco was no longer the Draco Malfoy the students and faculty of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have come to know. He, too, fell out if his false personality. Inside, Draco was malicious and dark, twisted and earsplitting. He played the big bad bully in the play of life.

I am not whom you think I am, Potter.

Time to take center stage.

Enter Harry Potter, stage left.

"Reality of Nightmares Volume 6"

"They Never Were"

"How to Find Who You Are (No its not under the bed)"

"Monsters Under the Bed, The Wizard's Guide to Discovery of Self"

"Damnit! Nothing again!" Harry cursed. The library had again failed to reveal the answer.

Days upon days Harry Potter had retired to the library, searching through book upon book. He never knew what he was looking for; something to feed his longing. Dusty volume upon volume filled the room, holding words and ideas from him.

Light from the blood red setting sun rammed itself through the stain glass windows of the room, in his face. It caught the dust in the air with its claws, exposing each one. The sun was a spotlight; he was the nervous victim standing alone.

Harry sat against the offending window. The sun ran her fingers through his shaggy dark hair. He had let it become more wild and untamed as ever. His clothes, underneath his Gryfindor robes, were darker. Harry had spent a little more time in Seamus's wardrobe rummaging through old boxes of party clothes. He wore smudged black eyeliner, a black tank covered with a dark hooded sweatshirt and tattered baggy bonded jeans. No one ever saw the black leather boots; they were veiled with his denims.

Harry had never cared much for anyone's opinion, yet now he seemed to turn his back on the world. He lived upon Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and the dark and quirky Luna. He would only speak around them, quietly, with a few rare words. He let his thoughts roam wherever it pleased. Even so, they seemed to have a mind of their own.

The sun was swallowed up by the horizon, leaving an amethyst twilight and a lonely Harry Potter behind her. Harry stood up and returned the books around him to their proper locations with a flick of his wand hastily. Time seemed to have sped up rapidly, fleeting from his fingers; he treasured his moments alone. He made his way to the library doors weaving between bookshelves and strewn chairs.

Filch had spoken sternly in September with the headmaster about students sneaking off to the library for snogging reasons after curfew. Unfortunately for those students at fault, a new spell was cast upon the library doors to close exactly at sunset and lock themselves until the morning.

This, of course, completely slipped Harry's wandering mind.

With a swift, rapid motion the doors swung shut and locked with a heart-sinking click. Behind him, footsteps echoed closer. Harry cursed as he swung himself around to face the shadow.

"Lumos!"

"God bloody damnit!"

The shadow and Harry cursed in unison, for the shadow was no longer a shadow, and neither was Harry to the other.

The shadow had become Draco Malfoy.