Altered Realities

Altered Realities

Draco Malfoy wiped the bitter taste of the beer on his lips onto his sleeve. He grimaced as he swallowed the beer, then uttered a sigh of contentment as he felt the pleasurable sensations that marked his fall into intoxication.

If my father could see me now, he thought, drinking muggle beer and acting like a blasted mudblood.

However, he wasn't here; he never was these days, always off on some mission to help further his Dark Lord's plans to destroy Harry Potter.

The familiar feelings of resentment and disgust bubbled up again in Draco's mind. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, Quidditch star, Archenemy of Lord Voldemort, muggle lover and all around pain. To say that Draco disliked Harry Potter would be an understatement; he abhorred Potter's very existence.

But Draco's intense passion for loathing Harry Potter stemmed not only from their school experiences, which were horrible enough already, but with the pressure he received at home. Every time he saw his father, he was constantly reminded by his father of his failed attempts to ridicule the Potter boy as well as Potter's success in defeating him.

Why can't my father understand? Why couldn't he show me some love, instead of that ice-cold exterior he projects to everyone?

True, Draco got everything he asked for and more, but he was missing the one thing that he desired most and would never get, love.

Draco's stomach heaved again, this time expelling its contents onto the jet-black rug, which covered the stone floor of his cold, dark room. Draco smiled, then began to laugh hysterically and uncontrollably. He knew he should stop, he would wake his parents, but he didn't care. To hell with them! And so he laughed louder and louder.

While laughing, he realized that some hazy corner of his mind had detected someone calling and pounding at the door. Probably his father. Well, let the scum knock and, hell, even blow down the bloody door; he didn't care.

A resounding boom was heard, and the door was blown open. The resulting shockwaves from the explosion caused Draco to lose his already unsteady balance and fall, head-first into the pile of his own vomit. One would think that having your own chyme cascading down your face and cheeks would sober you, but instead Draco began to laugh even more.

"DRACO!!!" Lucius thundered. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?? GETTING DRUNK??" His gaze fell on the half-empty bottle in Draco's hand, making him even more furious, "WITH MUGGLE BEER!"

"D-d-d-dyuu wantsh ones, F-f-father? I-i-i- c-can givesh you ones," Draco stuttered and smiled.

"Boy," Lucius' words cut through the alcohol induced stupor in Draco's mind, "Cease your bloody foolishness. Have you no shame? A pure-blooded Malfoy like yourself getting drunk like some common muggle!Instead of trying to help our Lord Voldemort in destroying those blasted muggle-lovers and the Potter boy, you lie here in a pool of your own vomit. You pathetic, worthless child. You are no son of mine.You allowed yourself to be embarrassed by Harry Potter, of all people. You sit there like an idiot, playing in your own vomit like an imbecile. You never should have been born."

Draco's head shot up in amazement. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"Are you so ignorant boy? I never wanted you. Your conception was an accident. I didn't want a son, and I still don't' especially one who is a disappointment like you. You are no son of mine."

"Don't you love me?"

"Love? Pah! Who could love a child like you? And since you like playing in your own vomit so much, perhaps you should sleep in it." Lucius took out his wand. "Durmios!"

Draco's head sank onto his chest, as he slumped to the floor.

******************************

Draco woke up from his magically induced sleep, with a massive hangover. However, a simple clear-mind spell removed all effects of his beer binge. He sat on his bed, pondering his recent conversation with his father. Lucius' early words had struck Draco to the core of his being.

My father doesn't love me, he thought. All these years, I did everything I could to earn his pride and approval, and now I learn he doesn't love me?

The first few tears began to trickle down his cheek. He frowned. No, NO! I will not cry; I will make him love me. I know what I'll do, I'll destroy Harry Potter, all by myself. But how?

Draco thought long and hard on this. However, for every idea, every single plan he conceived, he discovered that each had a grievous flaw. Realization dawned upon him. There was no possible way for him to defeat Harry Potter.

"Oh damn it all!" Draco thundered. "I wish...I wish..."

"Yes my dear?" A sultry, feminine voice purred from the corner of the room.

"Wh-what...?" Draco turned around. His jaw dropped in amazement.

In the corner of his room sat a tall, redheaded woman, dressed in a clinging black outfit, which highlighted her natural endowments and assets. She had fair skin, and a perfectly shaped body. Her face, framed by the cascading locks of her fire-red hair, revealed a face so perfect that it must have been made by some heavenly being. She had plump, luscious red lips, and black eyes so dark that they seemed to lead to some nether-world.

Trying his best to ignore the stirring in his loins, Draco spoke:

"Who-who are you?"

The vision of beauty sighed. "Oh you mortals, and the stock you put in names. Very well, you can call me Saipha."

"Very well, Saipha; let me be blunt. Who the hell are you?"

"Tsk, Tsk. Oh, you mortals, with your petty threats and your need to be in control of every situation."

She looked at Draco and smiled, a smile that made Draco gasp for breath.

"Do you really think you can control me?" Seeing Draco's blush, she laughed sultrily and continued, "Very well. I am called Saipha and what I do is grant wishes. However, the conditions are that you are only allowed one wish, which cannot be reneged upon, and for this wish, a sacrifice must be made. The wish you take cannot be reversed and you must suffer the consequences of said wish. If you agree, please state your wish in the format 'I wish for' or 'I wish that'. Understand?"

Draco pondered this development. Perhaps he could finally be rid of Harry Potter and earn his father's love. His mind made up, he began.

"Everyone knows that Harry Potter is known as the Boy-Who-Lived, because during an attack by Lord Voldemort on the Potter residence, Harry Potter, a baby at the time, defeated the Dark Lord, reducing him to a mere weakling. I wish that," Draco paused, then emphasized," I wish that during that attack by Lord Voldemort, that Harry Potter had died."

"As you wish so shall it be."

Draco smiled. Suddenly, a person burst into the room. It was Lucius. Draco turned to his father, a smile on his face.

"Father, look what I've done. I'm going to get rid of-"

"What have you done boy?" Lucius began to scan the room. His eyes fell on Saipha and Lucius swore loudly.

"By Hades, tell me you didn't make a wish." When he saw Draco's nod, his wrath grew. "You fool! She's a wish demon. She grants one wish, but at a terrible price. You idiot, how could you do such a foolish thing? How could you?"

"But, Father, I did it so that you would love me."

"Love you? Oh you foolish child, you-" Lucius' voice was cut off, as in a blur of vision, Saipha moved from where she stood and held Lucius in a stranglehold, her sharp nails poised by his throat.

"Draco, your wish was done so that you could earn your father's admiration and love. Your sacrifice, appropriately enough, shall be the death of the person whose admiration and love you wanted. Say goodbye to your father." She slit his throat.

Lucius Malfoy slumped to the floor and lay there, dead, in a growing pool of his blood. Then from his body, a pulsing, dark shimmering orb emerged. Saipha spoke,

"BEHOLD YOUR WISH, DRACO MALFOY, AND ACCEPT THY OWN DOOM."

Draco, awash his own feelings of pain and suffering at his father's death, blacked out. As the black orb began to expand, then occupy the room, castle, and eventually existence as whole, an echo was heard. The voice was that of a young child, plaintatively repeating again and again, then dying out into nothingness, saying, "I did it... so that you would love me."

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The room in which we focus now upon had been, until about 5 minutes ago, a nursery for a child about one year in age. Now it was a desolate battlefield, a wasteland. In one corner of the room, a wooden crib was situated, the occupant of which screaming out loud. At the foot of the crib lay the baby's mother, dead, mere moments after her husband.At the other end of the room there stood figure cloaked in black, wand held in one hand by pale emaciated fingers.The stark contrast of the specter's pale skin with the jet-black of his robes served to terrify even those with the strongest of resolve.The tall, dark figure slowly moved towards the crib, his footfalls silent on the floor.The Dark Lord stood at the crib's side, gazing at the young child inside.

"Harry Potter. You are the last of the male Potters.Killing you will ensure that the Piruccan prophecies never come true." A truly wicked smile crossed Voldemort's face. "I will relish this forever. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A green bolt of lethal mana energy flew towards the baby's forehead, seemingly in slow motion. At first, the bolt seemed to be repulsed by a shining gold light, but then a streak of black light intertwined with the green, striking and killing the baby, Harry Potter.

Voldemort surveyed his work and spoke:

"Thus begins the reign of Lord Voldemort."

Draco rolled onto his back. His eyes opened and he groggily got to his feet, shaking his head to and fro to try to get rid of all the cobwebs present there. He was about call a house-elf to him when suddenly he remembered the previous night.

"Oh dear god, what have I done?"

Shocked, Draco surveyed the vicinity.He seemed to be in some sort of old,abandoned castle.The castle's roof was partially gone so Draco could see the bleak sky with dark-grey clouds obscuring most of the sun's rays.Inside the castle there seemed to be some sort of shelter, as there were hundreds of beds laid out across the castle floor,some obscured by thin cloths, others naked to the world.The occupants of these beds slept worriedly,tossing and turning, wand in hand, as if fearing an attack in their sleep. The faces of the people who lay sleeping varied in colour and composition but they all held in common the same forlorn, desperate look.

Turning around, Draco looked at the bed he was standing next to. On its hard surface lay a girl of about sixteen years. The head which was resting on the bed's pillow had long fiery-red hair.The thin sheet covering the girl outlined all too well her body's physique,from the swell of her bosom to the smooth tapering of her hips.

The girl turned onto her back, allowing Draco to see her face. Draco gasped.

"G-Ginny Weasley?"

The girl on the bed opened her eyes, materialized her wand, robed herself and pointed her wand at Draco, seemingly in one fluid motion, in the blink of an eye. Almost simultaneously, all the other sleeping occupants woke up and did likewise. Draco was trapped in the centre of a circle made by the people surrounding him. Ginny Weasley spoke:

"Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?"