Our Distant Minds

Chapter 1

"Cruel Intentions"

By S.M. Mitchell

"You want me to kill him, Lord Voldemort?" the Death Eater asked, as he kept his face down, afraid that he may have angered the great master.

"You are clearly the most qualified. Do not hesitate. And you are in the perfect position to do so."

"I understand... But he is -"

"Quiet! I understand your trouble. But there is no other choice - I need the strength."

Lucius shivered when he heard that tone of voice. Especially, when it was targeted it at him. He always thought of himself as the highest - the Dark Lord's right-hand man. But as thoughts of apologizing came across his mind, he knew that any other Death Eater probably would have reacted the same as himself. Truly, had he done something so sinful to his lord? He could only hope.

Voldemort silently muttered the Imperius curse underneath the blackness of his breath. He watched as the most loyal deatheater of his inner circle slowly raised his head. He recognized the look that he held. James Potter had once held the same look, as the two of them had once dueled. And now, Voldemort knew that Lucius could not perform this deed of slaying willingly. Although he was certainly the best servant the Dark Lord had, he was not a killer at heart. That was his weakness, Voldemort had concluded long ago - he was not an all-out killer. Somewhere within him, Lucius Malfoy held a glimmer of mercy. Thus, his soul would have to be possessed for a period of time. The deed had to be done, or else, and the Dark Lord himself, was in no position to do it himself.

"Do it," Voldemort said with a harsh flicker of his glowing green eyes. The spell had been cast. "Use any sources you may have."

"Without failure," Lucius confirmed. His eyes flared with an almost-equal radiance.

"Leave me, now."

"I will serve superbly. And will succeed, without a doubt." With that said, Lucius Malfoy rose from his kneeling position, and turned around obediently. He walked out of the Riddle's house, and pass the two Death Eaters that guarded the door.

Voldemort spun around in his swivel chair, facing the lit fire place. "I love possession. Don't you, He mused at the thought of Lucius doing the task for him, and knew had performed excellent strategizing. Soon, Voldemort would be at full strength. He laughed, as he stared into the cold blue of the blazing fire.

"Yes... I await..." he said to himself. "I await for power." He continued to do so, over and over, as the night continued to go on, and even as it began to vanish.

* * *

It was sunny day, as the heat of the summer was still at its peak, even if it was nearing to an end. To say the least, Harry looked forward to attending Hogwards for his 6th year. It wasn't that he wanted to leave the burrow. Hardly, in fact. He simply wanted to go see more of his wizard peers. In the meantime though, Harry flew on his broom. The two Weasleys were also on their brooms. Fred threw apples that had been increased in sized through a tiny bit of innocent magic, while George whizzed through the air pelting them away. Harry flew around attempting to catch the snitch that zoomed throughout the sky above the giant Weasley's yard.

Ron and Ginny stood on the ground looking up, as if it were any other Quidditch match.

"There it is!" Ron shouted.

"Look at Harry! He's going for it." Ginny would exclaim. Aside from the altered words in their sentences, they pretty much kept repeating themselves in astonishment as the three Quidditch stars showed off their talent.

Harry watched Ron chow down his supper, as well as Fred and George. Ginny seemed to eat quite slowly, making sure that each bite was proper. Fred and George exchanged smirks as they watched her try to impress Harry. He knew of her little crush, and the fact that she we would go to these ends, flattered him to say the least. Out of all the Weasleys, Ginny was the youngest - a year younger than Ron and Harry. Yet she seemed to be the most mature, as well. Fred and George were aspiring pranksters with brilliant minds acting as 4 year olds. Ron on the other hand seemed to get easily disappointed or jealous. Ginny had grown up rather quickly, it seemed. Her shoulder-length hair glimmered in the sunlight and was very distinguished from the boys scattered style, complimented with sharp and aware eyes.

Harry looked across the table to see Ginny glancing at him. Her cheeks blushed, almost as red as the color of her hair.

"It's a shame two won't be playing Quidditch with us this year," Harry said, nodding toward the Weasley twins.

"Ah, no worries. We have Weasley's Wizard Wheezes going on in Hogsmeade, don't you forget! You'll keep 'em all in line for us, won't ye, Harry?" Fred replied.

"He won't have to, with you guys off the team." Ron savored the sweet second of satisfaction with his witty remark. But it was instantly countered with two spoonfuls of mashed potatoes landing on his forehead.

"Hey -"

"Make sure you get a good night's rest," Mrs. Weasley interrupted, walking into the dining room.

"Alright, Mum," Fred and George said in unison.

"I wish you two wouldn't do that," their mother said.

"Do what?" the two jokers asked in a see-through fraud voice. It was, of course, deliberate.

As Harry went to bed underneath the warm cloth of his covers, he felt happy. The feeling seemed to be only occasional. But for the last week that he had been staying with the Weasleys, he was nothing short of satisfied. With the Dursleys he never even got a blanket, so he was forced to use the thin and torn curtain that had once hung across the window of Dudley's old room. For the most part, he hated to think about the Dursleys. But he actually enjoyed thinking about his mild hate for the Dursleys when he was with the Weasleys. He loved comparing the two - although there was really no comparison at all. Nonetheless, he laid there for hours... Dazing off into the ceiling above him, as his head was propped up on a fluffy pillow, simply thinking about how he was appreciated.

One thing he frequently pondered was why he had to stay with the Dursleys. Surely, the Weasleys would allow him to stay with them. But Dumbledore had clearly stated that being with the Dursleys was safer. To what ends? Harry could not have the slightest clue. It seemed more likely that Voldemort would strike upon him in the presence of a family of muggles, rather than a family of wizards.

* * *

Beneath the covers of another wizard house, there laid Draco Malfoy. With his scattered blonde hair, and his dangerous blue eyes, he lied in bed, wide-awake. His thoughts were wild and unpredictable, filled with such insecurity. It was odd - he was in the safest house within the Wizard dimension, probably, yet he still felt unsafe. A creak at the door made him panic. All he wanted was peace. A creak ruined everything! Hell, a breath ruined anything, but after time, he had actually gotten used to that.

"Who is it...?" he whispered, unaware of the fact that if someone actually was there they wouldn't be able to hear his quiet voice. For the next hour, he made a plan to capture the fool who would cross the line of Draco Malfoy! He would swiftly roll off the other side of his bed, and grab his wand, which was on the night stand. "Lumos," he would yell to begin the duel. Light would be shed, and Draco's only weakness would be abolished. Facing his opponent, he would be forced to find their weakness instantaneously. He assumed that since his enemy was so obnoxious as to make even a creak within his presence, that the fellow must have been of medium size or larger. "Expelliarmus!" he would then shout which would be finished off with "Stupefy".

But no one was there, of course. His strategic plan was thrown away in vain. It could have been a mouse - and if it was, a mouse was definitely not a medium-sized opponent. Draco felt foolish, but nonetheless, when he got back in bed, he held his wand to his chest, and his eyes glazed open. "I hate this." he muttered to himself through cautious thought.

The following morning, Draco was drained. He fixed his hair, and put a look on that only the cold eyes of his mother could see through. She could care less though. And his father had his own agenda to worry about, let alone the pitiful moods of his son.

"Draco, let's go do your shopping. Do you have your list?" Lucius asked in an impassive tone.

"Yes, Father. Is it necessary that I go though?" Draco asked leaning back lazily in his cushioned chair.

"It is if you want your present." Lucius said with menacing grin. "I'd like to go alone, myself. There is business to attend to. However, I also need to talk to you."

Draco turned his head to his father curiously, now paying full attention. His father rarely had an actual conversation with him. "About what?"

"Potter."

Draco frowned with disappointment. The entire summer had practically been Potter-free. Why did his father have to ruin it for him? Draco sighed, as he thought about it. He would have to deal with his annoying rival once he returned to school. If his father simply had to bring it up, it was better toward the end of summer, rather than the middle. Nonetheless, the fact that his father wanted to talk about something so... Repulsive... seemed absolutely out of character.

His father handed him some floo powder, and he approached the fireplace. With the dust in the palm of his hand, he held it to his face and blew it into the fire, after which he immediately said the words, "Diagon Alley."

The classical warm breeze spread over him; like a blanket of warm ashes. He felt like he was spinning in rapid circles, and was suddenly very thankful that his father had forced him to skip breakfast. Yet it still seemed like his stomach was churning. And if he had ever been drowsy from the night he had just had, the lack of sleep had suddenly lost its effect. Caressed by the heat of the green flames inches from his dangling arms, he figured it would be best if he simply closed his eyes.

Draco opened his eyes, to realize he was no longer in his rapid spin. It seemed that he had been standing in the fireplace for at least a minute. But when he looked down, he instantly collapsed, as if just then taking in the impact.

"Damn..." he muttered to himself.

His voice seemed to be followed by a scream that was coming from above. "What the Hell -". He jumped out of the fireplace as fast as he could. Whipping around he saw his father land, as well.

"Since when do you scream when you come through the portal?" Draco asked wonderingly.

"Thinking nothing of it, Mal - ... Draco. It was a... Warning, to make sure you get out of the way."

Draco gave a stubborn frown, but said nothing. His father's pride was surely too fragile to mess with.

"Now. What do we need from here, Draco?"

"Hold on." Draco replied, getting into his pockets for a list.

Hogwarts Supply List for 6th Years:

1st semester:

History of Medieval Wizards - Professor Lupin

Advance Transfiguration 6 - Professor McGonagall

Mythological Creatures of All Directions - Rubeus Hagrid

Mystic Bio - Professor Sprout

2nd semester:

Advance Potions 5 - Professor Binns

Charmology 3 - Professor Flitwick

Magical Psychology - Madam Pince

"Damnit, where's Snape at?" Draco said, just now noticing, even though he had the letter for the last week.

"He isn't having a book this year." his father said as a matter of factly.

"How do you know?"

"Draco, if you didn't think I knew, then why did you ask?"

Silence.

"Thank you. Now since we're in Flourish and Blotts, let's proceed."

"Alright, I'll take the first semester."

The two of them went their seperate ways searching for the required text books. It was easy for Draco - he knew where everything was from previous years.

When he began toward the bookshelf on the other side of the store, he heard something odd on the other side. A mumbling sound of discomfort. Draco pulled out one of the books, and peeked through the bookshelf.

"...I do not know what you're talking about," the book keeper stammered.

"Is that so?" Lucius said with an intimidating voice. Something seemed to glow, but instantly vanished less than a second later.

"Right this way," the book keeper declared, suddenly wide-eyed, and with an impassive flow of his voice.

"Aye, thank you, good sir."

The book keeper turned down a medium-sized hall that would have seemed to have led to a bathroom of some sort, and began taking him elsewhere. "This way."

Draco, more than curious of the strange behavior went to the edge of the hallway, and perched his head in. But when he looked in, he saw nothing, but a box of old books. "What in the -"

He turned around to see his father standing before him.

"Searching for the bathroom," Draco said, disguising his curiousity.

"There isn't one here."

"Ah. Well, I have got the books on my list," he said, doing his best to change the subject.

"Then let us go, shall we?"

Draco looked at his father's empty hands. "You were suppose to be getting the other half, no?"

"Oh, yes." Lucius replied, suddenly feeling very foolish. Draco eyed him suspiciously, knowing that if his father thought anything of the glare, he would merely think he was wondering what he had been doing. Which was nothing short of the truth. But Draco had definitely seen more than he should have.

After fifteen minutes of watching his father wander helplessly around the bookstore, he finally decided to do it himself. Draco mentioned nothing of his suspicions, although things were going rather oddly. Once paid for, they left Flourish and Blotts.

They walked through Diagon Alley, with a number of people both in front of them and behind them. The traffic was much too crowded.

"We shall talk, once we can get to an isolated place."

Draco nodded, but said nothing. Due to his father's odd behavior, Draco was actually looking forward to what he had to say about Harry.

They gathered at a local resturaunt, that was serving to very little people.

"A double order of the number two special, please." Draco said, not even looking at the menu. The waitress dressed in a skimpy black and white outfit, let the pen do her work for her.

"I'll have the same, please."

"Alrighty, then, Mr. Malfoy. Your order is coming right up."

The young waitress left them.

"Now, what about Potter?"

"You are to show the boy respect this year." Lucius said.

"What?! Are you -"

Anticipating the commotion, Lucius cut him off. "Do it. Nothing but respect for the boy. Or else..."

To be truthful, Lucius really had no idea for the possible punishment. But he did not let Draco get that theory.

"Why is this necessary?" Draco asked.

"All in due time, my boy."

Draco frowned at him. His appetite had been ruined, but when the waitress brought their food, and let her pen doodle the bill, he let his father eat his meal. When they left the resturaunt, a thought had suddenly ocurred to Draco.

"Father, how did that lady know your name?"

His father merely shrugged. "Malfoy is widely known."

Draco was still skeptical though. About everything. A young lady, dressed like so, who knew their name instantly. If she had actually known him, they would have had a bit of conversation. And everything else was going ludicrous, as well. Moreover, he most-definitely did not approve.