Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ The Witch and Death Eater. ❯ Nightmare ( Prologue )

 

Harry Potter © to the wonderful, J.K Rowling.

I do not own anything in this story.

 

 

Everything was pitch black, quiet, and dreadfully cold. It felt as though millions of Dementors were circling around, filling the damp and moldy smelling air with a heavy feeling that could make even the strongest wizard want to end their life, rather than endure the unbearable feeling of sorrow and unhappiness that was giving off.

The silence was cut off by an insane crackle from nearby, followed by a whoosh of powerful green flames that seemed to have erupted from out of nowhere.

Silhouetted by the green flames were two figures. One was rather tall and slim; the other was half the size of the first figure, and rounder looking. They both were wearing black cloaks.

 

“Come forward, Malfoy.” Whispers a cold and raspy voice.

The tall figure walked closer to the flames, and lowered the hood from his cloak, revealing a snake-like face that was illuminating off of the green light.

 

Draco Malfoy did as he was told, and confronted the Dark Lord, kneeling before him respectfully. He was doing his best to keep his cool - the last thing he wanted was for the Dark Lord to see his fear. Without looking up at him, Draco replies dryly.

 

“My Lord?”

 

The Dark Lord smirks as he watches the blonde haired teenager carefully, pleased to see that he was kneeling before him. Voldemort extends his right hand; which was also slimy and snake-like and places it on Draco's shoulder; Draco flinches slightly.

“You are to take the place of your useless father.” Voldemort replies cooly, and then goes on, “Yes, your father belongs in Azkaban. He should have been more loyal to me. Don't you agree?”

Draco did not answer, but kept kneeled, staring at the ground.

“Well?” Voldemort's raspy voice came again, and the grip he had on Draco's shoulder became tighter, but still, Draco would not answer him.

“You need to learn your place, Malfoy.” He whispers softly, and raises his wand with his left hand. “Crucio.”

 

Draco was no longer kneeling; he was on the floor before the Dark Lord in a heap, though he did not scream out in pain. He had to be strong. He wasn't going to give into the Dark Lord that easily. Maybe it was because he was used to the pain? This of course, wasn't the first time he was hit with a Crucio spell.

Seeing that Draco was not going to show that the unforgivable spell was affecting him, Voldemort lowers his wand and stops.

Surprisingly, Voldemort slowly kneels down in front of Draco, and places his thumb and finger under his chin, lifting his head up.

“Maybe you're not as useless as your father after all.”

Voldemort removes his hand from his chin, and makes his way down to his left arm. He pulls back the sleeve of Draco's shirt, and touches his pale skin with the end of his wand.

“No one should find out about the mark, understand? You tell no one you have it, and kill anyone who finds out.”

The second figure, for the first time, comes forward next to Voldemort, and lowers the hood of his cloak. It was Wormtail.

“Kill the Mudbloods!” He crackles.

“Kill the Mudbloods, and any wizard who stands in the way of your mission.”

With that, Voldemort murmurs a few words and the tip of his wand began to glow.

Pain was now surging through Draco's arm; he was being swallowed by the darkness again; Voldemort and Wormtail were slowly fading.

Draco woke up abruptly. He was panting hard, and sweating. “It was just a dream, only a dream.” He told himself. “I won't have to re-live that pain again.” He tiredly gets out of his four-poster and moves over to his trunk, where his school robes were kept, and quickly gets dressed. All the boys in the dormitory were still fast asleep. “Good.” He thought. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to anyone at the moment. He wanted to be alone; he had something to take care of.

He made his way down the stairs and into the Slytherin common room, from there, he slipped out of the entranceway, which then closed behind him.

The corridor was empty. He figured that mostly everyone was still sleeping. It was after all, quite early in the morning. It wasn't even close to being time for breakfast in the Great Hall yet.

Draco was clutching onto his arm the whole time as he walked.

“I have to get out of here.”

 

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