That Which does not Kill

An icy, harsh voice sliced the dank air of the dungeon.

"Stop sniveling, Lucius."

"B-but, my Lord...he wouldn't really be my son t-then..." Lucius Malfoy stammered. He tried to swallow, but he found that his saliva had become preposterously solid within the span of a few seconds.

The Dark Lord paid no heed to Malfoy. The lidless, slit-like emerald eyes with ruby centers stared straight forward, unwavering and ruthless.

"Lucius, you test my patience. This will be the last time I explain this plan. When a child is born, its character is already preordained. Its future--everything--is already set."

His large, diamond-shaped pupils thinned ever so slightly.

"Or didn't you know what was in store for your boy?" A slender smirk curled the left half of his shadowed visage. For reasons unknown, Voldemort's face resembled a serpentine carving more than the soft yet sharp features that he had assumed as Tom Riddle. The eyes--they were the only feature to remain the same.

"He will become closer to the MudBloods, and will even venture as far as to fall in love with a half. He will disgrace the name of Malfoy..." The Dark Lord paused, and Lucius could sense the electricity from his master's anger in the air. "Is that what you want for your son?"

Lucius' knees grew weak. His breathing quickened, and his heart pounded. He now knew what it felt like to be hunted. "No, my Lord."

Suddenly, as Voldemort relaxed, the black pupils widened, and the electricity vanished. Instead, the ubiquitous cold that followed the Dark Lord everywhere replaced it. "Then you will perform a simple piece of dark magic, the Alterius Spell. It is related to the Imperius Curse, except that it is administered soon after birth, and the child will develop the traits you require in it without your bidding."

Voldemort stopped and his smirk returned. "A loyal follower to be formed from an errant traitor."

Upon hearing the news that his son was to be altered forever, Lucius' face twisted into a grotesque mask of pain--a pain that stemmed from the bottom of his heart, a heart that he had attempted for years to suppress without success. "You are right, my Lord, I should not have doubted you." Struck with an idea, he forced his mouth open again, but his jaws moved with difficulty. "My Lord, is there a chance that this will...ah...fail?"

The Dark Lord caressed his wand thoughtfully and paced the perimeter of the dungeon, his robes and cape softly swishing against the stone floor. The fool had a point, he thought. "Now and then, flashes of your son's old self may break through, but more importantly, is what will undo the spell completely. There is only one slim chance--if the half-breed he is destined to love reciprocates, perhaps he will revert. But we will make it difficult, Lucius, since he shall possess qualities that she will hate."

Lucius bowed low, his blond hair barely grazing the floor. "You are most masterful, my Lord."

Voldemort's cheek twitched as he barked his commands. "Karkaroff, Snape! Bring the child." His servants glided away silently. "What will you name the child, Lucius?"

Lucius' eyes brightened. Long had he awaited this moment--the true moment of fatherhood--the christening of his firstborn son. "Narcissa wishes to name him Draco."

"The dragon. A satisfactory name," Voldemort remarked as Snape offered the helpless, writhing bundle to the Dark Lord. As steely, taloned claws enveloped the baby, it began to whimper, its gray eyes frantically searching for a savior that would never come. One bony finger motioned to Lucius. "Approach the cauldron."

Using an ornately carved dagger, Lucius sliced his forefinger. The bright red blood slowly oozed from the small wound into the bubbling cauldron. Copper-like smoke rose and curlicued upwards as the Malfoy patriarch chanted the spell.

Blood of the father,

to change the son.

To end the tale before it has begun.

With a shaking hand, Lucius removed the ladle from the cauldron and deposited the potion into his child's mouth. A sickly, odd, yellowish tinge encased the tiny figure.

Slytherin qualities we require,

of his Master's service he must never tire.

He will value greatly the Purity of Blood,

and never associate with the veins of Mud.

All proceeded as planned until the glow wavered. Voldemort frowned and leaned close to the infant. Taking out his wand, he muttered a few low words and as quickly as he spoke, the bundled child became a raging inferno. A blinding yellow flash followed, and Lucius watched in awe as his son's honey-colored hair faded and his face drained of blood. Only the child's eyes remained unchanged. They had always been the coldest stone gray, like Narcissa's. As Draco blinked, Lucius' heart fell. He knew that his son's eyes, once the windows to a pure soul, had frozen over into ice...

Seventeen years later...

Quiana Jade gingerly stepped an inch closer between the platforms numbered 9 and 10. Wisps of her lengthy, jet-black hair flew madly in the wind, creating a dark frame around her light face. A quick and reflexive motion carelessly brushed the hair away, a little too carelessly. It flew back again, not giving up its mission. Annoyed, she fumbled in her messenger bag for something that would move the bothersome hair back into her low ponytail, where it belonged.

"Pardon me, but you look somewhat lost...and I think I can help you," said a happy female voice from behind.

Quiana's budding temper flare shadowed her light green eyes. Her normally intricately shaped mouth pulled into a semi-snarl as she whirled to face a homely-looking girl almost as tall as she was. Instantly, the temper evaporated, and her eyes returned to their normal, shockingly pale green color. Quiana had never been able to control her abrupt explosions of anger, a trait she inherited from her emotionally unstable mother.

Forcing her voice to operate, she replied, "Yes, I was ah...looking for the platform that would get me to the Hogwarts..." She trailed off as she glanced at the paper clutched tightly in her slim-fingered hand and blushed innocently.

"Express?" the brunette finished.

"Exactly." Quiana tried to smile, but her facial muscles only twitched unresponsively.

"You're in luck--I'm headed for Platform 9 3/4 too. Are you a first year at Hogwarts?" the brunette chuckled, eyeing the new girl incredulously.

Quiana returned the look with one of equal suspicion. "Of course not," she bristled hotly. "I am a Seventh Year, a transfer student from the Alastriona Conservatory for Witches. My grandmother thought it would be best to transfer me to Hogwarts, considering my half-sister has already been through its coursework."

The brunette's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh? Who might your half-sister be?"

Quiana's eyes glazed over. "Cho Chang. We share our mother's genetic information, and that is all. I have never met Cho in my life, and don't plan on it." She paused, clenching her jaw tightly. "Ever."

The brunette smiled in an attempt to win the girl's trust. Some people are just so unfriendly, she thought. "So you're Cho's long-lost sister from across the world? She's told us a lot about you." Honestly, the brunette did not know why the other girl was making this difficult for them both. Normally, new students would jump at the chance to make new friends in an unknown and unfamiliar place, but this girl looked like she could be simply unbearable at times.

Quiana failed to continue the conversation. It seemed pointless, and she especially hated wasting her time with pointless people and conversations.

Noticing her project lose interest in the conversation, the brunette pushed on. "Cho lacked upon one aspect when she was telling us about you, though."

"Really." Quiana did not even look up as she spoke. Studying her neatly filed fingernails, she sighed, "And what would that be?"

The brunette's eyes lit up with glee. She had broken the barrier, or so she thought. "Your name."

Quiana sighed again. This girl was obviously not going to give up, she thought, annoyed.

Seeing her subject unresponsive once more, the brunette took the initiative. "I'll make this easier for you--if I tell you my name, will you tell me yours?"

Quiana strangely felt the warm sensation of nostalgia: the "first day of school" complex. How old were they again? She thought, chuckling to herself. "Fine."

"My name...is Hermione Granger."

"Quiana Jade Llewellyn."

Hermione smiled broadly, allowing Quiana to note the equally wide teeth. "I know you and I are going to be the best of friends. Just wait until you meet Harry and Ron."

Quiana smiled thinly. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. Hermione's kind gesture had reminded her of an old friend at Alastriona. What was her name again? I think it was Celeste...Oh, God, I'm forgetting everything I don't want to ever forget, she thought worriedly as she adjusted her bag.

Striding quickly into the wavy portal, Hermione scurried aboard the large train to find seats.

As Quiana attempted to follow the brunette in the distance, she noted her entangled robe, which had unpleasantly caught itself in the stepladder. "Damn cloth," she cursed softly. I remember telling Grandmother to not get the size larger, she thought exasperatedly. Whipping out her ebony wand, she was preparing herself to cut off the robe's lower half when she realized awkwardly that someone else was pointing his wand at her.

~ * ~ *

"Severum!" Draco Malfoy commanded. A ripping, tearing noise filled the echoing station as the trim of the robe separated itself from the whole. The sublimely beautiful girl fixed her fiery, pale green eyes on him. Cliché or no cliché, she is quite beautiful, and looked somewhat like Cho. They could be family, he speculated. No matter, she was probably the single, most beautiful girl Draco had ever laid eyes upon. Shaking his head, he laughed bitterly at himself. You would think that after the disaster with Hermione your hormones would cool off a bit, he berated inwardly. Looking back toward the platform, there was nothing but the train and plumes of smoke. The girl was gone.

~ * ~ *

"Harry! Harry Potter!" Hermione bellowed loudly.

A boy with jet-black hair and dark green eyes turned to face Hermione. A smile of recognition lit up his features as he drew closer.

Hermione clapped her hands together happily. "It's been so long since I've seen you last! How was your summer?"

To Harry, Hermione's voice seemed to continue endlessly into another dimension. It was the girl breathing heavily next to Hermione that had captivated him. She seemed a little ruffled. But who wouldn't be, with these crowds at the King's Cross? He thought. Harry could feel his eyes turn to the new girl. As he pretended to listen to Hermione's incessant rain of questions, he realized why she looked so familiar. Someone else who had the same exact eye shape, the nose, the lips... "Cho," he breathed.

He knew he had pushed the wrong button when he saw a shadow descend over the girl's pale eyes.

"What about Cho?" she responded. The quivering anger in her voice could only be detected by the subtlest hearing.

A look of surprise registered on Harry's face. "Is she your sister?" he asked dumbly.

Quiana's temper flared instantly. Everywhere she went, she was continually haunted by the existence of her dreaded half-sister--"So you're Cho's sister! Aren't you that Cho girl? My gosh, you look so much like Cho!"

Through gritted teeth, she muttered, "Of course, although she's only my half-sister." Pulse quickening, she glanced around for an exit. She did not know how much more of this introduction business she could tolerate. First order of business, though, was to find a window. The inside of the train car had become a sauna, and her robes were heavy and suffocating.

Then her vision began to blur. Being in Cho's shadow had frustrated her since the beginning. Hot tears stung at her lids. She fought hard to keep them back and breathed deeply, but to no avail. The lights around the car brightened and developed halos. Everything occurred in slow motion, so that even simply focusing on Harry or Hermione was a giant task. She shook her head. Objects around her started to spin casually, floating away from their gravitational tethers. In her current state, she could only make out bits and pieces of conversation.

"...This is my friend, Quiana Jade Llewellyn...not from around here...Alastriona Conservatory...all-witch school?"

Yet that was all she heard before the ground rushed up to meet her.

~ * ~ *

It was as if all the life force had been sucked out of her, and her body was nothing but a soft, flesh and blood shell. She had just begun to collapse when Harry broke off his tedious conversation with Hermione and ran to catch her. He managed to reach Quiana before her head hit the dirt-riddled floor, but was met with someone else's outstretched, pale hands. Harry finally brought himself to look away from her face and narrowed his eyes when he recognized the other person holding her.

The two nemeses glared as they acknowledged each other.

"Malfoy."

"Potter."

~ * ~ *

"And just what do you think you're doing? Get your hands off of her!" Hermione dove between them, trying to get each boy as far away from the other as possible.

Draco's eyes lit with a silver fire as he coolly expressed his self-appointed domination. "I saw her first, Potter."

Harry snorted, "And you think that really matters? Please."

Hermione's gaze was a mixture of disbelief dashed with a tinge of jealousy. Here was Harry Potter, the "Boy Who Lived," and Draco Malfoy, the Holder of the Dragon Staff, one of the only Four in the universe, fighting over some wench they barely knew, she thought angrily. What is this world coming to?

"I guess you won't be needing me then," she said haughtily. And to think that Draco and she had just broken up a mere month ago. Now here he was, goggling over this--this thing! It was absolutely ludicrous, her mind screamed.

"Wait, Granger," Draco's voice stopped her right in her tracks. It's back to the old derogatory game again, isn't it? You've forgotten me so quickly, she thought sadly. "What's her name?"

Harry laughed. "You damned idiot, can't you even recognize Cho's half-sister? Her name is Quiana. There, are you quite satisfied? We need to move her out of the aisle, if you don't mind."

Draco's mind started to drift. For some reason, the happy Cho reminded him of the summer, and the summer reminded him of the time Hermione had been the girl he loved. Or so he thought. Why did it have to end? Was it because of Ron? Harry, even? No matter now, he scolded himself.

"Are you quite all right?" Harry's voice was tight, but laced with concern.

"Huh? Yes, Potter, I'm perfectly fine. The last thing I need is for you to look after me. And yes, we'd better get Quiana awake."

But as soon as he spoke the words, he turned his attention to her face. She was incredibly beautiful, even when unconscious. He could hear her venomous comments to Harry from the other car of the Express, and when he heard the loud thump, he had charged through the door between the cars. What were you thinking, Galahad, did you think she wanted a knight in shining armor? Draco shook his head. What was with him and dangerous women? Must be those damned hormones again, he thought, taking out his wand.

"Malfoy, you know I'm better at awakening spells," Harry pushed Draco's wand aside. "Let me do it."

"Who says, Scarface?" Draco's cold, steely gray eyes regarded him with contempt as he brought down his wand. "Expelliarmus!" Harry's wand flew out of his pocket and into Draco's waiting hand. "Enervate!" he pointed his wand at Quiana's heart, or where he suspected it would have been, just as Harry pounced on him to retrieve the stolen wand.

Meanwhile, random images flickered through Quiana's cloudy mind: a small grass hut on a beautiful beach of white sand and clear blue water...a dark, foreboding castle on a hill...and a mansion fit for a prince. Suddenly, a raspy, sinister sound accosted her from behind. She reared up to her full height and poised herself in a battle stance, but her eyes couldn't see--everything was white, pure and blinding when a flash of brilliant red streaked across her line of vision...

Quiana's eyelids fluttered. She noticed that her hair was tangled and her skin sticky as she rubbed her aching head. The inside of the car still resembled a sauna. More voices rose together, forming an insane cacophony as she turned her ears toward the source.

"Ow! Why won't you just give me back my goddamned wand!" Harry roared as he chased Draco.

"Not on your life, Potter!" Wands in hand, Draco was waving them just out of reach when Harry tackled him and sent them both flying through the air.

Quiana's cheek twitched as she tried to smile. Boys--they would never change. You can never avoid growing old, but you can always remain immature indefinitely, she laughed inside. Her small 'smile' faded as her gaze strayed to one of the boys with light blonde hair. There was a sad aura surrounding him--the kind of sad aura one only found around people who had lost their life, their soul, in a sense, much like the wandering ghosts who had lost their way.

By the time Draco had stopped yelling at Harry, he realized that Quiana was back on her feet and staring at him curiously. Handing the wand back to his enemy, his cheeks pinked a bit before he swallowed nervously.

He has such lovely eyes, she mused. They were slightly hypnotic, even. He must have some sort of innate power blessed upon him. Is he...? No, he couldn't be. But what if--her sharp practicality kicked in. Could he be the Third Staff? She too, had been blessed, or cursed, depending on the interpretation, with an obligation for life: to be the fourth and last of the Four Elemental Staff Holders to guard the magical world against the hordes of the Darkness.

This is ridiculous, Quiana thought. He can't - I won't - it's impossible... If the rest of the year continues like this...I might as well run away now.