Moira

Prologue: Ataxia

As it was said by the head mother several times during the weekly addresses, the all living matter had the tendency towards entropy, total collapse of structure. Yet it was written that even disorder had a purpose, a meaning. The little girl never listened during the lectures so it was curious indeed that she had emerged from her dream world long at the instant that the mother had uttered the paradox. A buzzing moment passed, and the words shaped her dream world.

The little girl's seemingly indifferent presence in the corner of the room went unnoticed in the sea threadbare uniforms. The old cellar was so dusty it was amazing anyone saw anything at all. It added to the reality of the dream, the haze that the light played off. When the bombs went off in the distance, the army of sawdust fell from the ceiling and joined the parley of tiny girls and caretakers. Strangely it was the adults who flinched at the pandemonium outside their sanctuary, their faces becoming stiff and eyes growing wide. The children had become acclimated to the bedlam and as a result, remained posed in perfection with their hands folded and backs straight. The mass of children, of orphans, were molded into stronger stuff than their caretakers. It seemed that the said group of elder women leaned on the younger to take their minds off of...

The little girl in the corner on the back pew had been fiddling with a hole in the leg of her plaid skirt, waging a war with the scratchy fabric. But...it has a meaning. The girl squinted through the smudge that never left her taped, coke-bottle glasses up at the proctor. Her face scrunched up in quite intense thought for a six-year old, and she swung her short legs back and forth that never could quite reach the cracked floor. The explosions were coming closer.

The small, gray-haired woman's grimace flashed as the ceiling light swayed ominously with the vibrations. More dust littered her head making the old woman ancient, a mysterious paradox of time.

Her voice cracked with nerves.

"The...the planes won't come this far in. Don't worry, my dears. They won't come..."

Lamentation reached their ears, and as a group, the children gazed at the cellar door in curiosity.

The mothers looked at each other in terror. The children started to move, sensing the feelings radiating in waves from their protectors.

The head mother opened her mouth again in determination to defy the evidence of the contrary when the lights went out and a roar from outside overpowered her voice...as well as the screams from her wards.

The pews flew back as hundreds of little bodies jumped to their feet.

The girl in the back by herself was paralyzed by the sounds and the thundering. Voices of the older woman shouted in disarray until thankfully, a light appeared as the cellar doors were flung out. Madly, a flood of children struggled out the stairs, gathered by pale, young women. The head mother looked around quickly and raced up the stairs. She thought she had gathered everyone.

She was wrong.

~~~

Draco Malfoy was very amused.

The Muggles and their little wars...

He walked invulnerable to the threat from the sky and took time to take in the sight of fleeing Muggles falling by the second. He kept his hand on the wand in his pocket. It had no purpose as of now. Muggles were dieing without his aid. They were killing each other.

His lip curled in disgust as he mentally reasserted his grave dislike of those different from him. Petty, weak, little things...disgusting things...it amazed him, how much emotion arose in him. He wanted to make them realize what they were compared to him. His face lit up in an inane smile as he laughed at the memories of what had occurred.

Potter...

He regained his composure long enough to glimpse the shock on the hurdling peoples' faces. A small family of vermin had taken covered under a worn stairway. The mother held her children close as the father tried desperately to find a safe way out of the city.

He had passed by, observing them indifferently. They might as well accept it. They were not getting out of this city. Pathetic...

A small, Muggle boy peered out from under his mother's arms, eyes full of unaware fear. The pajama-clad child looked at him for a shared burden, this experience that had befallen everyone and had made his mother pull him out of bed...that made him leave his favorite bear behind. He searched for understanding because he didn't not understand... The sounds frightened him and his ears hurt. That man wasn't frightened though. Even his dad was frightened. His dad was brave. But he was frightened. That pale man knew something. He stood tall in the street. A strange feeling grew in the child. Something about that man scared him more than the noises. He was a bringer of something terrible...

Malfoy stopped to sneer as rubble fell from the sky...and didn't get close to him. He looked almost ethereal.

The little boy's brown eyes widened, and he tugged at his mother's skirt.

Malfoy contemplated given those Muggles a taste of his disgust. His hand twitched in anticipation as his senses burned in memory. His fingers closed around familiar tool. He grinned predatorily and moved forward. The Muggles didn't have the faintest clue-his hand brushed again worn leather. His heart stopped as if he had brushed up against a foul serpent.

He didn't have time for fun. The diary...his mission came first.

He put up the hood of his black, silver-embroidered cloak and stalked on ward with purpose. He looked terrible...so pale and so dark. The child struggled to see past his mother when another noise emerged from the sky.

Malfoy laughed again. Yes, yes...the Muggles didn't know what was coming.

~~~

The door slammed shut, and she was in pitch black. Trembling, she slowly got to her feet and looked around her. Wisely, she put her hands out in front of her, feeling around for familiarity. She took a small step, breathing in dust and fear. Another roar from outside...the feeling of age floated down again, and she fell as her foot caught on something. Her glasses flew off her face and clattered against the stone with a worse noise than even the bombs. In a panic, she crawled blindly on the floor and the world fell.

And light came...and illuminated her familiar companion.

She grabbed for her glasses with warmth in her heart.

She felt hope. A part of the ceiling collapsed but had thankfully missed her. She gripped the old watch that had belonged to her father to find some comfort. She climbed the rubble up towards the light.

~~~

Draco Malfoy frowned in annoyance. His mood was starting to detoriate and no amount of Muggle misery was going to change that. Damn it all...

He couldn't Apparate because of the barrier...the Muggle warfare had opened a door for him. They wouldn't know he would be traveling through the ruins of London. Him, Draco Malfoy...

He glared at the book in his hands. It was such an ugly thing...

The hole made by the fang had been repaired, but it still looked bleak. It looked so Muggle he detested it thoroughly, he didn't care if it was needed in the process. Yet his master demanded...

Something collided with him, and he fell backwards, his breath knocked out of him. His hood revealed the dark sky over him, and small bits of tiles flew at his face.

She hit the cement with a gasp. She flung out her hands and broke her fall, the debris of glass biting into her sensitive skin. After her senses emerged after the shock, she realized she had run into an adult. Happiness filled her very being. An adult...they always knew what to do. Her euphoria shattered as he uttered a string of curses and lifted himself up to...

She had never seen such hate in anyone's face in her life. It had been an accident. She hadn't meant to...

His silver eyes were filled with darkness and glinted at her. He was spotless...she backed up in fear. Everyone else was dirty with dust and dirt and he was...his skin was fiber glass and his eyes flashed poison. His dark cloak meant dark things.

She backed up, and she slipped as her hand hit something curious. A quick glance...

It was a small, black book. But unimportant...

She stared up in fear. He stood up and took something out of his cloak and pointed...a stick at her. Yet she knew somehow what would happen. His face told her all. His joy told her all she needed to know.

Then an explosion sent her flying with the book in hand. She fell into darkness.

~~~

Draco Malfoy cursed every vile thing he could remember as the force of the explosion blinded him. The ground practically folded underneath him. His mind burned as he realized he was falling.

He stuttered out a Levitation Charm. His fall stopped quickly enough for him to hit the rows of pews. And his barrier had broken. How had that Muggle child...gotten past his barrier. As he lay on his back and his head started to pound, he cursed his lack of reflexes. He couldn't feel his hands, and he heard his father.

Disgrace to the name of Malfoy...let a Mudblood beat you...Potter...

To escape the pains of the sent curses, he went passively into a clouded...brief images. Hogwarts...he was walking down Hogwarts alone. After turning corner after corner, he saw a figure. It was waiting for him, and it was tall. Potter was over there, looking at him. What...wait...Something wasn't right. Potter was the figure, he wasn't that tall. No, wait, looked like Potter...something was...in the hall with him, behind...

A sharp pain in his left arm sent him screaming. Come now...

His back muscles and neck burned in protest as he was propelled the signal in his nerves and head. Master...

Draco shakily stood to his feet, one arm hanging limply and the other burning...the other arm didn't belong to him anymore. The other arm felt like somebody else. He couldn't see. His purpose...

The book!

Draco gritted his teeth as he made his right arm move. Just find it and go. Just find it and...it wasn't in his pocket.

His heart stopped, and something gripped it tightly. Fear...he screamed.

~~~

And somewhere, just a few feet away, the child lay with the key to Malfoy's life under her small hands. Her breath made the pages rustle as if the book was alive.

She turned her head in a forced sleep, deep within herself. The small, unimportant diary flipped open without assistance as if by invisible strings.

Her hand remained on the binding. It was strange because the cuts made collision with the dark man earlier...the blood from the cuts seeped into the rugged, worn pages...and disappeared as the page was wiped clean.

The marks that still lined the book began to fade, and the pages grew more textured. One's impression might be that the book was made of snake-skin. If one looked closer, they would have been alarmed...the pattern looked almost as if a face was engrained in the pages.

But no one saw, and the child slept on.