Nox

Chapter 1 - Where there are beginnings

It started, like most good stories do, at the beginning.

Snow; white and pure, and the first of this season. Harry couldn't help but grin. The snow was at least two feet high, making your feet drown in it. The trees in the Forbidden Forest were all white. It all looked so peaceful.

Harry stepped down the stone steps, and stopped at the very end of them. The first time anyone touched this snow should be delicate. It was about 5 a.m. and in a few hours there would be lots of children - big and small, running around in the snow, having a snowball fight, making snowmen - all those things that made them happy, like there was no care in the world. But Harry knew better, he knew about all the cares in the world - not only his, but of the sick and poor, unloved and unwanted, different and un-welcomed. And all he wanted to do right now was to be the first to touch that snow. To be the one that saw how brilliant it was - lying there, untouched. The first snow had something magical in it. He also wanted to be the one to abolish that sheer perfection, for nothing that beautiful was bound to exist. Everything that was pure and beautiful in this world was doomed to be destroyed. For men had to touch everything pretty that they saw, and everything that pretty would break by a single touch.

He bent down slowly, then spooned a ball of snow in his palm. He was the first person to touch the first snow of the season, and it felt great. The snow was cold against his hand, but he didn't mind. It had a soft, delicate, almost fragile texture. He crushed the snow in his palm, then let it go.

Harry ran all the way to the Quidditch pitch. Panting, he popped himself into the snow. He just lied there, arms and legs spread, for Merlin knows how long.

~*~*~

Ron was walking down the steps to the Common Room. One step after another, he was taking his time - he was still a bit dozy from sleep. Hermione was there, sitting on one of the sofas. She had a large tome in her lap, and a parchment lied on the table in front of her, lines of words written in ink drying on it.

"Good morning, Hermione," he greeted, sitting down next to her.

"Good morning, Ron," she said, keeping her eyes on the book.

"Have you seen Harry?" Ron asked.

This time Hermione did take her eyes off what she was reading. "No," she answered, "Why, is he not in bed?"

"Nope. Thought you might have seen him."

"Where could he be so early in the morning?" her voice had an edge of panic to it.

Ron looked at the Common Room clock, which indicated it was 07:15 - breakfast hasn't even started yet, and it was a Saturday. "Don't worry," he flashed her a reassuring smile. "I'm sure he hasn't got himself in trouble."

But Hermione did worry. Because it was Harry, and when left alone, Harry could wander off, run into a Dark Lord, and get himself killed. These are the kind of things Harry tended to do. So she made Ron follow her around the castle, in search of their lost wonder-boy.

"I think I saw him outside, in the Quidditch pitch," a fifth year Hufflepuff told them. And so they went to the Quidditch pitch, in thought they'd find Harry practicing in flying, but instead they found him lying in the snow.

"Harry!" Hermione called out, running to her friend, Ron right behind her. "What are you doing, lying around in the snow like this? You will catch a cold! How long have you been down here?"

"Don't worry, 'Mione, I've only been here for a little while," he lied, flashing her a shy smile. He grabbed the hand she reached out for him, to help him get to his feet. Hermione felt how cold his skin was from the snow, and a chill went down her spine.

~*~*~

Snow; white and pure, and the first of this season. Draco thought of how much the snow resembled him - it was pale, cold, and always when it came everything seemed bad. Draco was walking along the grounds of Hogwarts, and contemplating things that were to be contemplated. All around him there were entities who didn't interest him at all, therefore he chose to ignore their un-welcomed presence.

As he was walking his eyes caught the site of the infamous Gryffindor trio. He wondered what they were up to, and stopped to look at them. Potter - that boy caused so much confusion in Draco's otherwise peaceful mind.

After a few more minuets of staring, Potter looked up and caught Draco's eye. He was doing it on purpose, Draco thought, glaring at the boy. Potter was like a teaser, saying to him - "think you've figured out the world? Well, try figuring me out!", and of course Draco couldn't, which made him confused and upset.

Something white and fast was making it's way towards Draco.

"Ouch!" Draco launched forward, as a large snowball hit him in the back. He glared at the second years having a snowball fight a few feet away. Biting his bottom lip, he went back to his walk.

'Damn Potter,' he thought, 'It is all his fault.'

~*~*~

Maybe it didn't start there at all, maybe it started slightly more than a year before.

September 1st. The huge oak front door of the old castle swung open with a slight blast, and in waltzed non other than Harry Potter. He stopped in his haste, panting. His breath was heavy and shaking, and he brushed jet-black locks of hair and sweat out of his face, unintentionally revealing his famous scar. He was only vaguely aware of the stunned first years that were in the Entrance hall also.

~*~*~

In the Entrance hall stood a group of nervous first years, talking in hushed, trembling voices amongst themselves. Hagrid had left them in there, telling them to wait.

Suddenly a blast could be heard from behind. Some newly students gave a start at the offending sound, some actually jumped a foot in the air. Nonetheless, all had averted their little eyes to watch the young man that stumbled into the hall. His face was red and his mess of night black hair was sticking out in all directions, some of it was glued to his face by sweat.

As Harry exposed his scar, the newly first years started whispering.

"Harry Potter!" whispered a brown haired girl in awe to the black-eyed boy beside her.

"Is it really?" asked the boy in return.

"Of course it is!" said another girl that joined their conversation.

But it didn't matter, 'cause Harry didn't hear them, and it wouldn't matter even if he did.

Harry ran all the way from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, only stopping once in a while to catch his breath. Harry stayed in the hall for a minute only to gather himself; for he had come from the outside, where it was freezing cold into Hogwarts, where it was nice and warm; he was sweating from the long run.

He was also shaking, and every inch of his body hurt, especially his scar, which was burning. He was about to keep on going into the Great hall, but was stopped when the double doors opened by themselves and Professor McGonagall came in.

"Welcome first yea--" the Professor started saying but cut herself off as she noticed the small form of Harry Potter in the Entrance hall. Harry was once again fighting to control his breath. "Mr. Potter," she spoke again. "What is going on?" though she had a slight idea.

"It's him. It's Voldemort." Harry barely managed to say as darkness started to surround his, and he finally gave up and let himself fall.

~*~*~

Some of the girls screamed and one boy started crying; but was it because Harry had said the Dark Lord's name, or because he had just fainted in front of them, one couldn't tell. Probably both.

Professor McGonagall told them all to be quiet. "Stay here," she said sternly. "And don't you dare move until I return." And with that she took her wand out, muttered a spell that made Harry float a few feet in the air, and disappeared up the marble steps, Harry Potter floating casually behind her.

~*~*~

It was the start-of-term feast and everyone was in the Great Hall. At the staff table there was quite a commotion; the Professors were all talking amongst themselves energetically. Dumbledore looked concerned, McGonagall, at his side, was talking to him frantically. Beside McGonagall sat Snape, he was looking unnerved as well.

Potter didn't bother to show up on the train to Hogwarts, though Draco had a vague idea about what happened to him. He saw McGonagall leaving the hall to bring in the new first years. A minute after a few screams were heard, and everyone in the hall looked expectantly at the double doors.

Snape immediately got up and went to see what was going on. A few more minutes passed by and then Snape showed up again. He whispered something into Dumbledore's ear, and in return the old man nodded his head, a calculating look on his face.

Whispers started to break among the staff table. Someone who set relatively near it caught a few words and told the person that set next to her, who told the person that set next to him, and so on. Finally, the rumor got to Draco. It was merely two words.

"Harry Potter."

~*~*~

A couple of girlish screams were heard, coming from the Entrance hall. Professor Snape went to see what had happened. When he got there, all he found was a bunch of scared first years, two of them were crying.

"What happened?" Snape barked at one boy, who looked as if he was about to cry too. "Well?" he asked when the boy didn't respond.

"Ha-Harry P-Potter, s-sir," the boy stuttered. "He was h-h-h-here, s-sir, and then--"

"And then he fainted!" said a girl with a squeak, cutting in.

"And the lad-dy took him there," the boy pointed at the marble steps.

"Stay here," hissed Snape to all of them, and left the hall.

And so they did.

~*~*~

Madam Pomfrey was in her office, checking her stoke of potions for the third time. There really wasn't much to do in the Infirmary most of the time. She heard the infirmary door burst open, and hurried footsteps coming in. She cursed under her breath, and stepped out of her office. Who the hell could it be? It was the first day of the school year!

Potter. She should have known better; the boy was a trouble magnet.

"What have he done this time?" she asked the pale faced Minerva McGonagall.

"Poppy! This is no time to get angry at the boy!" she said firmly. "You Know Who had him. We have no idea what he's been through." McGonagall's voice was shaky, but still very firm.

Madam Pomfrey immediately started checking and healing the boy in front of her. In the meanwhile Professor McGonagall left the infirmary, to perform the Sorting ceremony on the scared-to-death first years. She sighed; the show must go on.

~*~*~

After the ceremony Dumbledore made a small speech and introduced the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, after which he disappeared to God-knows-where. Actually, most students knew where he went; it was fairly obvious to anyone who was following the events - Dumbledore went up to the infirmary, to check up on Harry Potter.

What exactly happened to The Boy Who Lived? No one was sure. Some rumors said that You Know Who came for Potter that summer, and Potter tried to fight him, then Potter was put in a Muggle hospital, and couldn't make contact with the Wizarding world. Some went so far as to say that the boy finally realized that He Who Must Not Be Named would probably kill him, and he went berserk and ran away. Some were almost accurate, others stretched as far as the human imagination went.

Harry's friends were all very worried. The Gryffindor house table was relatively quiet. Ron and Hermione both didn't eat a thing, and once in a while looked at the door, as if expecting the wonder boy to show up at any minute.

~*~*~

It was all black, or maybe was it white? Harry couldn't remember. He opened his eyes slowly, and at first he couldn't see a thing. He tried to get up but found that he couldn't move - he didn't have the strength to.

"He's awake!" he heard someone whisper then rush beside him - Madam Pomfrey?

Harry blinked a few more times, and after a while could see blurry figures. Then his glasses were put on his nose, and the world came to focus. Harry could recognize Dumbledore standing just a couple of feet away from his bed. Madam Pomfrey was at his right, checking his arm.

"Hello, Harry," said the Headmaster, approaching the boy on the bed. His face wasn't twinkling like it had usually.

"Hello, Professor," Harry tried to smile feebly. He looked around at Madam Pomfrey, and saw that the witch was leaving to her office.

"How are you feeling?" the old man asked.

"How is it, sir, that you're always here when I wake up?" wondered Harry quietly.

At this Dumbledore's face broke into a smile. "We were all very worried about you," he told Harry. "Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger will be thrilled to hear you woke up, and I'm sure they'll want to see you first thing in the morning."

"What time is it now?" Harry turned in his bed in an attempt to find a clue as to what time it was. It was the first time he bothered to look at his surrounding, and so he just now realized that his bed was separated from the rest of the Infirmary. Unfortunately there was no clock in there to tell him the time - but he could see through the window that the sky was dark.

"It is very late, my boy, you should get your rest," Dumbledore once again was grim.

"But -"

"No, Harry, you'll have time for questions later."

And there was no room for arguments, for at this very second someone burst into the Infirmary, and the unmistakable voice of Cornelius Fudge could be heard throughout the Infirmary. "Dumbledore! Are you here?"

"Quiet! Quiet in here!" Madam Pomfrey's voice was heard as well. "Oh, it is you, Minister Fudge. Do keep quiet, I have patients in here."

But Fudge was ignoring the nurse, he walked to where Harry's bed was, and opened the curtains. "Professor Dumbledore!" Fudge sounded infuriated .

"Minister," the Headmaster greeted.

"Will you," he gave Harry a look, "have a few words with me outside?"

Dumbledore nodded slightly, then turned to leave with the Minister. "I will talk to you later," he said to Harry, who made a gesture to show his understanding, and then the two men left the room.

~*~*~

"Dumbledore," said Fudge the minuet the door closed. "With all due respect, I, as the Minister if Magic, am ordering you to stop whatever it is you're doing behind my back. You are not allowed to hide things like Harry Potter disappearing, from the Ministry. And you are defiantly not allowed to tell the students silly things as 'You Know Who getting back to power'!"

"Mr. Fudge, you still don't believe that Voldemort is back to power?"

"He is most certainly not, and kids should not here such... such lies."

"The students have the right to know what is going on around them. We are at war, if you choose to believe it or not."

"There is no war," Fudge said, outraged. "Where do you go off saying such rubbish?"

"Fudge, you are a fool. Open your eyes. Wizards, witches and Muggles are being killed every day, and you are flat out ignoring it."

"I am still the Minister of Magic, and I will not allow you to talk to me like that. You would be better, sir, if you would do as I say, or else you will get yourself fired," and he turned to leave. "You'd better watch yourself from now on."

~*~*~

When Harry awoke for the second time, it was already sunrise. He put on his glasses, and set up in bed. His head ached.

He sat there for a while, unable to form one straight thought; all blurry images and half thoughts spun around in his head. He was shaken out of his reverie by the small sound of the infirmary door being opened, and soft footsteps on the stone floor. The person to interfere his quiet stopped right in front of his bed, and then opened the curtain that was drawn around it.

To Harry's surprise it was non other than Draco Malfoy. Harry just stared at him in confusion.

"Potter, you're awake," Malfoy stated plainly.

"Malfoy, what, for Merlin's sake are you doing here of all places, this early in the morning?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.

Malfoy scanned Harry with his eyes, for a moment, and then said in a flat voice, "You have seen what Lord Voldemort can do to his enemies. But you don't have the slightest idea of how he rewards his allays. Power beyond your wildest dreams," at this point, his voice had an edge of dreaminess to it. "You have a rare second chance, to choose your side. Lord Voldemort knows your strength, and he offers you to join him. You don't want to end up on the losing side, do you Potter?"

Sometime during his monolog, Malfoy stretched his hand out for Harry to shake. Harry just stared, from Malfoy's hand, to his face, and back to the stretched hand. Then he averted his gaze completely away.

His face had darkened on the first sentence. This was so absurd!

"You have got to be kidding me," he murmured. "Does the crabby ol' bastard really think that I'll join him, just like that? Forgive and forget? The git is the one solely reason for ruining my life!" Harry was outraged.

Malfoy's hand was still stretched out. "You're making a mistake, Potter," he said. "And this one is going to cost you your life."

"Malfoy, get out of here this instance!" Harry was very angry now.

"You could be a grate wizard," Malfoy drawled. "Consider the offer, for it won't come again. You are worth more to the Dark Lord alive, but this doesn't mean he will restrain from killing your sorry arse. You could rule the world, you know that? You could be great." And with this he stalked off slowly, mingling with the shadows, as if he was one of them, and leaving Harry very frustrated.

"I will never join Voldemort," he whispered to no one. "I would rather die."

But someone heard him. For the air has eyes and the walls have ears.

"And you will die, Potter, I'll make sure of it," a voice whispered, in a dark room; far away from where Harry Potter was lying in a bed in the Hogwarts Infirmary, his glasses off, and staring at absolutely nothing.