The Cloak

Chapter 1

When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.

~Cherokee Expression

The halls of Hogwarts would echo with laughter until eternity. Every morning, the sun would throw its beams into its numerous hallways lighting even the darkest corners. But in the dead of night there was no light and to the young girl who wandered them now no echo but that of her expensive shoes.

War had been a simple rumble in the distance until now. Now Pansy was being asked to choose sides. It was no secret what side she was supposed to choose, the one she would choose, but that didn't help her sleep any better.

In half a year seventeen-year-old Pansy would be finished at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, if it was still standing. She would most likely marry Draco Malfoy--good looking but arrogant and obsessed with power. She knew her future with little promise of change and had accepted it. Except on these late night walks.

And Pansy wasn't alone.

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Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, sat on his throne. Tonight it was nothing more then a windowsill in an abandoned hallway. For once his expression wasn't proud or arrogant or even blank; it was simply pure.

He glanced down at his arm adorning his new label, his new owner. Draco Malfoy never belonged to himself. His whole life he was his father's property and tonight he had become the darkest man's in history.

A death eater was all he'd ever been raised to be and he was a very promising one. He would probably even surpass his father. Imagine the look on his face.

It wasn't regret Draco Malfoy felt tonight. No, it was a simple longing for something more.

The sun peeked over the horizon and Draco felt it best to return to bed. When he woke he would again be nothing more then someone else's possession.

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A single flame encased the far corner of the library in early morning, despite all watchful eyes. Hermione Granger knew as Head Girl she really shouldn't be breaking rules, but tonight the sanctuary of her library is the only thing she wants.

Too many months had crept by silent since the night in the Department of Mysteries. Too much had not been spoken. Too little had been forgotten.

In less then a month she would be eighteen and able to join the order. There she would finally receive answers; answers she may not want once known. Nothing was the same anymore. Nothing was as black and white as it had once seemed.

Hermione gathered her candle and started out of the library. There were so many uncertainties about the war. How many innocent lives would be taken? Would her own? How would they ever move on?

One thing was certain: Hermione would stand beside Harry no matter what.

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The early risers rolled over in their beds, begging for a few more minutes of sleep. Harry knew he had a few more moments left to gather his thoughts.

He glanced out at the new dawn. One day it would not rise so surely. A day very soon it would reveal what the night had hid: the blood of innocence.

Harry had long ago accepted that this war was in his hands; that those who died would do so for him. He was the end. But what if he couldn't do it?

He reached up and touched his scar. Why couldn't someone else carry this burden? Why couldn't somebody else learn to watch bodies fall and just turn the other way like he couldn't? Why couldn't somebody else lose his or her family like he had? Why couldn't they face the fear of losing their friends like he did?

Harry knew, however, that he would not wish this fate upon anyone.

He heard Dean fall out of his bed, moaning and stood. It was time to face the day. It was time to be the hero everyone thought him to be.