Fate In Flames

Fate in Flames

 

A frigid gust of wind sweeps my cloak off my shoulders. I pull it back with pale hands. A shiver races down my spine as I stand on the now barren expanse, observing from a safe distance. Another attack of the howling wind harshly blows back my blonde hair, fully exposing my face to the world. I swiftly bury my head inside the hood of my black cloak. A dry sob unexpectedly bursts from my lips, and my gray eyes struggle to hold back the tears. No tears. A Malfoy cries no tears.

I silently watch the horrific sight come slowly to an end. Once so full of prestige, now reduced to lone limbers of wood, flames still violently licking at the remains; Malfoy Manor. The screams, though long gone, echo in my head, as if imprisoned, unable to escape. The screams of all I ever knew.

They caught them. The Ministry of Magic figured out the pattern of Voldemort’s meetings, and traced them to my house. They were all in there, all of the Death Eaters. The Ministry figured they couldn’t break in, so they set up a silent alarm, sending it to all wizards and witches. I had been about to come in through the entry gates on my broomstick, back from Knockturn Alley.

 

But then I saw the people, with their apprehensive yet excited faces, and I immediately understood their purpose. I pulled back immediately, landed, and sprinted through the shadows out to the crowd. I tried to blend in, hiding my distinct features under my hood. I watched in growing fear as the crowd worked together to build a ward around the property. And of course, Harry Potter was leading them. And there next to him, were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, soon to be Hermione Potter.

 

I hadn’t seen the trio since we had graduated from Hogwarts, two years ago. They looked different, carried themselves in a much more confident way…that’s what training to be an Auror can do to you, I guess. I wouldn’t know. When I graduated from Hogwarts, I went the opposite way of an Auror. Death Eater.

 

Potter held his wand straight out in front of him. Granger and Weasley each touched the tip of their wands to Potter’s. A chill went through me, as I felt the surrounding masses feeding their powers into the Aurors. Even children were there, their parents taking energy out of their offspring and sending it to Harry. A shimmering ward shot up around the property, built from the powers of the thousands present. Once that was done, all the magic and power of every person there, excluding me, went straight into Harry. He had seemed to grow, without physically changing shape, his scar gleaming. Complete silence fell, the kind of quiet that hurts, that roars in your ears. I shrunk back from the virtuous power that pounded against my head, reaching the back of the group. Hopeful, almost disbelieving looks rested on everyone’s face. They were barely able to comprehend the situation. I could understand it all too well.

 

My eyes fell on the one person in the crowd who had a different emotion displayed on their countenance. Hermione. She looked nervous, and her hazel eyes darted from the mansion to Harry and back again. She took a step toward Potter, and I saw her mouth form one word. Draco.

 

I jerked backwards as a strange look crossed Harry’s face. They thought I was trapped in the manor. They cared. They cared that they were supposedly going to destroy me. I, who had tormented them all those years back in school. I, who had killed Muggles and Mudbloods mercilessly around the country. And still, they cared.

 

But obviously they cared about the future of the world a tadbit more, for they resumed in their destruction.

 

I don’t know what happened after that. All I remember is a nearly blinding flash of blue light that crawled into my soul and yanked up memories of everything bad I had ever done. A light that showed me the lives of all the people that I had ever killed, their hopes and loves and dreams and what they thought at the moment of their death. I would have gone mad from the anguish, the horror, the sudden regret and guilt, if the light had not disappeared within a moment.

 

Then there was darkness. Whether it was darkness because of temporary loss of sight from the light, or if I had gone momentarily insane, or if the world had gone dark from a power I had never experienced, I didn’t know.

 

The gasps from those surrounding me pulled me out of the darkness. That’s when I saw what had come about.

 

Flames. Red and orange and yellow flames crashing into the house I had always known, unquenchable magical flames grinning and laughing and mocking. For a moment, the crowd cheered, hooted, punched the air in victory and cried in joy at revenge. But only for a moment. They fell silent when the screams began.

 

The cries of pain echoed throughout the cold air, shattering in my ears. I fell to my knees, not drawing much attention as others were doing the same, eyes wide. Crabbe and Goyle were in there. Parkinson. Nott. Avery. Zabini. Bulstrode. My mother. Voldemort. My father.

 

My brain screamed at my muscles to move, to break the wards, to extinguish the deadly fire, to save my family. But my heart held me back. I knew I had to let them all perish.

 

Let them burn for what they had done. Done to Hogwarts, to the magic community, to the country, to the world. Let them burn for what they had done to me.

 

Scorching heat shot up my left arm, and I remembered words being spoken. Hissing, quiet, evil words said two years ago, at a small initiation ceremony.

 

“As I brand you with my mark, you will understand me and my motives better than ever before. You will understand my ambition, my power…and my pain.”

 

I was feeling the fire moving up my arm, encasing it with its terrible fervor. But even as I was experiencing the pain the Dark Lord was feeling, the only thing I could concentrate on was the sight of the flames.

 

Malfoy Manor was encased in a blaze. Flames dancing and twisting and writhing and thrashing and climbing higher and higher and higher until they disappeared into the stormy sky. All the eyes around me reflected the terrible fire. And still the screams continued. Shrieks of agony and remorse and sorrow, but not of humans. These were the sounds of monsters.

 

The fire’s light lit up the sky, throwing a dull orange light over all present. And the scene resembled an inferno, a firestorm of the worst kind. It resembled the place all Death Eaters knew they would eventually go, but not this soon. Hell.

 

The horrible crying soon began to die away, until there was none left. The top few floors of the mansion fell to the ground with a hideous clunk. My room had been on the top floor.

 

Everyone just watched, unable to tear our eyes away from the horrible sight.

 

The fire soon sank down along with the charred skeleton of my former residence, leaving it in black pieces.

 

A soft wind picked up, blowing the ashes around.

 

And there were no cries of triumph. Not even a murmur from the crowd as they walked or flew or Apparated away. There was no one left, except for three friends up front.

 

I stood up and glanced over at them. My eyebrows drew together as I saw the scene before me.

 

Harry was lying on the ground, face pale and glistening from perspiration, eyes closed, glasses on the ground beside him. He was completely still. Hermione was bent over him, cradling his head in her hands, soundless sobs racking her body, her face twisted in pain. Ron was standing over them, his face as pale as Harry’s, looking down on the couple with something resembling shock.

 

I was shocked as well. Harry Potter…dead? The beautiful irony of the hero dying at the moment of victory was lost on me as I tried to grasp the situation, my eyes intent on Harry.

 

Suddenly, one of his fingers twitched. Neither Ron nor Hermione saw it, too stunned to take in anything. Even if they had noticed, they wouldn’t have had enough power in them to do anything about it.

 

I knew I had to do something. Harry was obviously alive, but only just. He had been a vessel for unimaginable amounts of power, and it had certainly taken its toll. But if he could have survived through it, then that must mean…he was meant to live.

 

I quietly crept into the shadows so they wouldn’t see me, and slipped out my wand. Remembering a Summoning Spell, I made four very confused mediwizards suddenly appear next to me.

 

They recognized me at once, one of them snarling and all reaching for their wands. I shook my head slowly.

 

“Not me. Them,” I said quietly, pointing. Quickly taking stock of the situation and realizing that Harry was by far more important than me, they rushed over to him.

 

I don’t know what happened then, for at that point I turned away and walked towards Malfoy Manor.

And here I am, hours later, still standing, still watching.

The flames are gone now. Yet the memory will remain forever.

I vaguely wonder if they know I’m alive. Maybe I should run away, hide so they never find out. But the doctors probably told…I’ll be in Azkaban soon enough.

Then I vaguely wonder if anyone will care.

Abruptly, I hear a throat being cleared behind me. I don’t even turn around. I know who it is.

“How is he?” I ask softly.

“He’ll be fine,” Hermione replies, walking up next to me. “Thanks to you.” She pauses, then continues. “I’m sorry, Draco. We-”I cut her off with a wave of my hand, eyes still facing forward.

“Don’t explain. I understand. I expect you’re here to take me to Azkaban.” I respond, a hint of ice in my voice. Why is she trying to be so friendly, when she is just here to condemn me?

I see her shake her head out of the corner of my eye, her brown hair flying about. “No, actually. The Ministry has decided to pardon you, on account of you saving Harry’s life and all. They’ll just be keeping an eye on you for a few years.”

That surprises me a fair amount, though I don’t let on. We stand there, not talking, for a minute, just staring at where my house used to be.

“That was everything, you know,” I say suddenly. “My whole life, my whole existence, was burned in that place today. My fate, up in flames.”

“Are you sorry?” she asks, finally turning her head to look at me.

“You know what? I don’t think I am.”

* * * * *

Gray ashes blow through empty space, as a boy and a girl walk away, always having been on separate sides, yet always having been on the same.