Lost

Chapter Six

From pages one to ten

Harry gulped down the last drops from the bottle, sighing. Thank God for Butterbeer. Work had begun. The war had begun. The rebellion. The search for an answer. It was now officially THE beginning.

Bugger.

He stared, cross eyed, at a little girl prancing around outside the Leaky Cauldron. It was soothing to see someone so innocent, so peaceful, oblivious to the catastrophe that had recently hit the world. Her face was gleeful with laughter, wild auburn ringlets whirling around her head, pouring from her scalp like syrup from a sunny yellow bottle.

Every house he'd been to (he'd decided to visit some wizard houses nearby the witch and wizard schools to make sure a Muggle didn't land there) at least one person had sobbed on him, taken shelter of him just because he was who he was. They acted as if Harry Potter had come to save them, thanking him even before he asked the ritual "Excuse me, but due to the recent OtherWorld Death Eater infiltration and glitch in certain magics, I would like to check your house and land to make sure Muggles didn't get transported there."

No one even acted disappointed when they learned that all he was doing was making sure their house hadn't been affected by the magical glitches and that no Muggles were around. He'd already checked a few schools, although it took long. Beauxbatons of France, Zauberei Schule of Germany, and Stregone Strega Scuola of Italy wasn't even a third of the list of schools he had to visit. He'd had no problem at Beauxbatons, (other than that he wasn't extremely fond of the French) some people knew him there; they knew English, anyway. In Germany, there'd been even less of a problem, and he'd met a possible pen pal; a girl named Ute.

However, Italy had been difficult. He'd had to find a Muggle phone to call Dumbledore and ask him to send an Italian translator book his way. The phone itself had been hard enough to figure out; then he'd had to remember the Hogwarts emergency phone number, and then wait for the book to arrive for forty five minutes. Eventually though, his duty was done and he'd been able to say ciao to Italy.

He knew he'd gotten past the first five or so steps. Firstly, packing. Second, saying goodbye Next, getting the list of places to go from Dumbledore, deciding which were most important, and figuring out how to go from place to place quickly (broom). Then there was going to his first destination and starting work, and continuing to travel from place to place, searching for Muggles who'd been accidentally transported to magic schools due to the glitches. Now he was deciding where to go next.

The big question he'd been dreading now came to mind: Should he go to Durmstrang, where Draco was?

-----*-----

So far, there'd been no sign of Draco. However, Durmstrang was vexing. Step eight, asking authorities about exploring Durmstrang for Muggles and how to go about making the job efficient and quick; it had been hard to convince them to accept the proposal. People asked for autographs left and right, Moriann Erbol, although not knowing of his relationship with Draco Malfoy, had made him sign her cloak and then proceeded to have a little chat with him about her "love life." If, that was, it was in fact true, about her being 'with Draco Malfoy, the Seeker that could give even you a challenge;' whatever 'with' meant. Her tone hadn't betrayed whether it was a lie or not. Harry desperately wondered if it was true, and prayed that it wasn't.

Harry sat down on the stairway, ignoring the strange looks people gave him. What was wrong with him? He'd never been one to feel envy; much. He'd usually was happy and grateful for what he had, and a five star on the list of what he wanted had been Draco. He'd gotten Draco.

But now he felt covetousness about Draco; how dare that girl act as if she owned Draco, as if he loved her? As if...Harry sighed. The girl--she was the Durmstrang Chaser, Moriann Erbol--almost seemed like a replacement of himself in Draco's life. But he couldn't find the other boy and ask him if it was the truth. Harry wasn't even sure if he wanted to see the Ex-Slytherin, really. He was afraid. Afraid that Draco didn't love him anymore, that Draco had found a girl, or even worse, another boy, to replace him. And he was also afraid that Draco had turned towards that inner darkness that lurked in his soul; if he had turned towards it, Harry doubted he could save him.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he took out his wand, and began to walk up the long winding staircase to Durmstrang Tower Three, East Wing. Now came steps nine and ten, looking for Muggles in the last and third tower of Durmstrang, East Wing, Rooms M680-730, and ten, fortunately, or unfortunately, possibly encountering Draco.

NOTICE: Switch from Harry to DRACO'S POINT OF VIEW!

The next three chapters, 7-9, are/will be in Draco's POV.

Chapter Seven

Penitentiary

"So...let me get this straight...you're an American tourist...you were..." Draco ran a hand through his hair.

"You were...helping your grandmother sew a quilt...and suddenly there was this 'gigantic bang noise' and going to look and see what it was, you walked out to the porch, and 'suddenly couldn't see anymore, almost as if unconscious,' and here you are, eh?"

The girl nodded, murmuring, "Yeah. I dunno how it happened. It was weird, it was like I fell, but fell forever, I couldn't see, saw colors and shapes when I closed my eyes, didn't know what was happening, etcetera."

"Hmm...sure you didn't drink some vodka, or beer, or something like that earlier?"

The girl shook her head violently, blushing, and shouted, "No! I'm...I'm only thirteen...o-of course I wouldn't get drunk..."

Draco raised a brow, saying, "Well, technically, getting drunk depends on how much you weigh and how much you drink."

The girl looked at him incredulously, unable to understand how he could be so casual and normal when the situation of her having suddenly appeared was so strange. Of course, she didn't know Draco, and that made his demeanor, his grace, and the natural majestic air around him all the more baffling.

Dully staring her down, Draco wondered: Why the bloody hell is a Muggle here? What made the spells disappear? If the powerful spell around Durmstrang was broken and Muggles are suddenly popping up, imagine how it must be at other places around the world...Diagon Alley can now be seen by Muggles...The Leaky Cauldron...Hogwarts...Just the thought of Hogwarts hurt him, however, because that soon led to thoughts of Harry...

Deciding against telling the authorities a Muggle was in his room, Draco stood up, and went into his walk-in closet, leaving the girl to stare at him blinkingly as he ruffled through his tons of clothing on hangers before shutting the door behind him.

Inside, Draco was boiling with turmoil. He'd lost part of the new personality traits Harry's association had given him, but they still lingered here and there. He wasn't sure if he should dare let his mind touch upon those, and attempt to be the good one Harry would want him to be. He knew that was the hard way; but Draco's wasn't one to always go for easy: easy got boring, sometimes. He'd been doing it the easy way too long, being nasty to others, letting his confusion get shoved to the back of his mind. He never had decided fully who he wanted to be; evil Slytherin, Death Eater's son, OR semi-Gryffindor, involved in a relationship (of sorts) with the Boy Who Lived.

Seething in anger at his own indecision and predicament, Draco didn't hear as the door to his room was opened, and an intruder trespassed...

-----*-----

Booted feet stood, motionless as possibly, not a single tap against the marble tiled floor of the walk-in closet. Draco breathed in deeply, hands held in the air glowing with not yet released mauve colored magic. Suddenly, the spell released on its own as his concentration was interrupted by the sound of a blood curdling scream.

Eyes fluttering open, Draco dashed from his closet, a few moments too late to stop a disaster. The sight that met his eyes was, although not gory, horrifying in its own way. Slumped against his bed, skin pale white, was the body of the Muggle girl. Draco didn't even need to check her pulse. He knew she was dead as soon as his finger touched her skin.

Never before had the horror of Avada Kedavra truly been realized by Draco before as it did now. All he could think was: Who would do this? I could have saved her. I could have been there for her, died saving her life. Or I could have cast the spell sooner, not that it worked anyway, and at least tried to transport her back home to safety. God, why? No one has a right to do this to anyone! Wizard or Muggle. I was wrong, everything I was taught was wrong. Blood type and magical inability shouldn't be the reason to kill someone. Muggles have no right to be hated, tortured, killed. They are innocent...most innocent as can be, for they don't have half the power we do.

Pulling away from the dead girl, as if burned, Draco picked up his wand, demanding his hand to stop trembling. He was just reaching for the door handle when it slammed open with a crash, revealing Quidditch Captain Gorpin, and a smattering of professors wearing variations of upset expressions. As the Quidditch Captain babbled something about every person nearby having heard 'that horrendous shriek', Draco stared blankly. Then, the Captain and a few others peered over his shoulder, immediately bursting into panic or outrage at seeing the dead Muggle.

Suddenly, an Auror pushed himself to the front of the crowd, to stand in front of Draco and then snatch his wand from his hand. That is, the man tried. His grip on the wand tight, Draco said through clenched teeth, "This wand is mine. You've no right to take it from me!"

The Auror glared at him, and then did a quick expelliarmus spell. Closing his eyes against the nightmare, Draco allowed himself to be magically bound, his arms bent up and over so that his hands, formed into fists, touched the top of his spine.

The world seemed to shrink away, and all that was left was the darkness of his mind, as the words of the Auror replayed over and over in Draco's head: "You are now under the hold of AOA, Aurors of Azkaban, arrested for the murder of an innocent Muggle."