Harry Potter and the Unlikely Gryffindor

He had served the Dark Lord for nearly thirty years. Three decades. He had remained faithful in the most trying of times. When the world thought Voldemort dead, he knew that He would return. When Hera had been found, he had rejoiced, for the Malfoy family would continue.

But now...

Now he felt as cold and empty as the eyes of his son. He felt the anger and indignation that lay permanently etched on Draco's features. Defiant even in death. Lucius had put all his hopes of continuing the family line on his son and his sister's daughter. In a perfect world, they would have already been married, and on their way to having a child of their own. In a perfect world, he would still have his Cissy.

But those dreams were being slowly ground into dust with each passing moment. Lucinda was not a young woman anymore, and her time in Azkaban had unseated her sanity. She rarely spoke to anyone, and the thought of her and Draconious having another child was an uneasy one. Narcissa, were she still living, was not young either, and carrying Draco had taxed her greatly.

He was left with those black thoughts as his Dark Lord approached him from behind, his robes once again adorning his skeletal body. “Are you troubled, Lucius,” the question was not as it should have been. There was a predatory gleam in Voldemort's eyes as he watched the emotions play over his servants face. “Worried are we,” he ventured again, “tisk, tisk. I can't have my most loyal follower so troubled,”

Lucius watched Voldemort warily, wondering what kind of game he was playing. Was this to be punishment for some unknowable crime, or a reward? That gleam never left the Dark Lord's eye, sending shivers down the Malfoy's spine. Voldemort's eyes seemed to focus on something beyond living sight for a moment, and he nodded to himself as though in conformation. “You may yet have your heir. Do not fail me in this task, Lucius, and the name Malfoy will live on forever,”

XXX

Even through the gauzy curtains of half-sleep, Ginny could tell that it was raining outside. She lay huddled under the covers, half listening to the sound of the thunder and wind, absently wondering if it was affecting the Quidditch games at school. On her bed stand lay several heavy tomes and yards of parchment splattered with ink spots.

Far be it from the Ravenclaw 7th years to forgo their learning just because they were in hiding. They had convinced Fred and George to use some of their money to buy year appropriate materials and books, setting about to teaching the young girls as they would have been taught in school. It was all wonderful, what with the younger girls needing the security of routine. But Ginny had not been sleeping well the last few days.

She couldn't be sure, but she had felt restless ever since she had found the locket. But then again, there were other reasons she was up at night, staring at the ceiling as the hours passed by. The most nerve wracking was that her older brother, and the boy she still had feelings for were somewhere else, doing God knows what. A pained look crossed her face as an all too familiar thought crossed her mind. They could be dead, or captured. They could be screaming from torture or a thousand other ills that could befall everyone she ever loved.

Ginny sighed and rolled over to the other side, trying with all her might to banish such thoughts from her mind. But when she finely settled and her mind became quiet, those same whispers of death and pain started again, chewing at her insides until she felt as hollow as her traitor brother's heart must be. Ginny threw the covers off of her, sleeping was pointless.

Slipping on a house coat, she padded out of the upstairs bedroom and walked slowly down the stairs. All the lights were out, and the house seemed to slip into it's old self. The shadows made the place seem smaller, like the walls were moving inward. She sighed, going down to the kitchen to see if she could do something while she waited for mind to quiet itself down. But the kitchen would not help her find solace. It was cleaner than how Tonks had described Mrs. Dursley's kitchen.

Ginny sighed, making herself busy with what ever she could find. Her wand ever close to her in her house coat, she came back out into the foyer. She reached up to clutch the shape of the locket at her neck. She suddenly had the urge to go outside. She felt more thoughts slip in and out of her mind. She took a step back, momentarily unbalanced by their insistence. She couldn't tell if these thoughts were the result of her sleep deprived brain, or something else.

She put her hand to her brow, trying to think something else, but it was impossible to get a 'word' in edge-wise. 'You can save them,' now Ginny was fully awake, her wand in her hand. The voice had been so clear she had thought that the speaker was right behind her. But no one else was up at this hour. But instead of fear, Ginny was filled with the curious urge to go outside and look around.

Before she could stop herself, her hand was on the knob, and the door was open. She stepped outside, walking out to the sidewalk, her eyes darting up and down the street. All was calm. Stray pieces of discarded news paper were blowing in the wind, sliding down the street and into the darkness. The house had already disappeared when she closed the door, and she was left alone in the light drizzle.

The stillness was punctuated by twin pops, like someone blowing a cauldron full of glass shards. But when she looked around, there was nothing out of place. And oddly enough, that fact alone was unsettling. Her eyes saw nothing yet she felt she was being watched. She turned around, intending to go back into the house, but a sudden thought struck her. What if who ever was watching her was waiting to gain access to Number 12 Grimmauld Place? Ginny tightened her hand around her wand, cursing herself for not seeing the locket for what it was.

Ginny backed up toward the intersection, her feet taking her faster and faster toward the lights of the street. She heard more than saw her perusers, she could hear their robes swishing with their foot steps. She was almost at the intersection. Just a few more feet to go.

“Imperio!”

XXX

Those who had been ushered into their dorms had sent hurried messages through the Floo network, Owls and any other method they could think of. Some to call for help, others of a less optimistic mind, to say their last goodbyes. From those who had gotten through on the Floo, the news could not get any grimmer. Hogsmead had been razed to the ground during the storm. Nothing was left standing.

Those fighting had even less to feel confident about. The ground was littered with pieces of broken trees, stone, brooms, and what was left of their riders. Neville was fighting through a haze of tears and panic. Katie Bell, Colin Creevey, Lavender Brown, Padma Patil, Michael Corner, Hannah Abbott, Justin Finch...How many more friends would he see taken down by the Killing Curse or a Giant's club? How many times could he watch it and not go insane?

With each passing moment, Neville Longbottom understood more and more what his parents had gone through. He blinked back hot tears and pointed his wand at a Death Eater. He wanted so badly to cast the Torture curse on this person. He didn't care that he would probably spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, or that his Grandmother would be disappointed enough to disown him. None of it mattered. But he kept hearing the dreamy voice of his mother in his head, 'Your father would never stoop to their level, Neville. Never.'

“Stupify!”

Neville jerked his head around. That spell had not come from his wand. As the Death Eater collapsed, he witnessed a gaggle of green scarves swoop over the castle roof, wands blazing like multicolored streamers. Without volition, a grin spread across his face so wide he was afraid he would sprain his cheeks. He saluted with his wand to the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and returned to the fray, his confidence renewed. Perhaps this wasn't a lost cause after all.

And then the north wall came crashing down.

XXX

The screams of students and portraits mingled with the Teachers urgings to calm down. The charms and wards that had protected the students and kept others from entering the castle, now kept the students from fleeing. After leading the older students up to the Astronomy tower, Hagrid had come to Gryffindor tower to make sure the younger students didn't break out into an out right panic. But with everything that was going on, he was beginning to feel that panic in his own heart.

Several of the Gryffindor first years were gathered around Hagrid's legs, some gripping his clothing as though that alone would make all the bad things go away. He was trying to distract the youngsters with several of his better stories, but every time he felt the children were calm, another shudder would send them back to crying and holding on to one another.

Hagrid finely fell silent. There was no use in trying to distract the children. There was no hiding that the second war had begun.

He sighed, heaving his massive shoulders as he sank into the squishy over-sized chair in front of the fireplace. He leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. In all his years, he had only felt this kind of despair once in his life. Even then, he still had one bright spot he could hang on to. But now? Now there was nothing left but death and darkness and even his irrepressible optimism could not over come everything he and the entire wizarding world were being forced to endure.

But even through all this, he could still be amazed. The older children were engaging the younger ones in games of Wizard's chess, or other variations of outside games. It was incredible how children could be so resilient and optimistic even in the face of their worst nightmares. The world was crumbling around them and they were determined to remain children.

Hagrid smiled at this even as the walls around them shook with the onslaught. It was getting worse, and the incredible noise that startled even those concentrating on their next move in chess told of something new. Hagrid's head came up, something was not right. Portraits outside were howling and screaming, most of which was unintelligible. But in between the shrieks he could just hear what was being passed around. The north wall was breeched.

Not for the first time today, he wondered where the Aurors or other wizards were. He simply could imagine no other place anyone could be when the greatest Wizarding school in England was being assaulted by Giants. Hagrid contemplated this as all the screaming outside stopped. He heard someone running toward the portrait that stood as a door for the Gryffindor dorms. He held his umbrella in front of him and the other students as the door opened.

“McGonagall!” Hagrid exclaimed, nearly engulfing the older witch in a bear hug.”What's happening,” he asked, but a clipped gesture with her hand cut him off.

“No time,” she hissed as though afraid to make too much of a noise. “Help me get the children out of here. We don't have much time,”

Hagrid didn't question the headmistress and he immediately exited the dorm, making sure the children got out after him. He watched McGonagall expectantly. “This way,” she was whispering again, gesturing for the children to follow her. They were led to the room that Dolores Umbridge had used two years previous as the headmistress' office. The floor was dirty from sooty feet, and a roaring fire was still burning inside the fireplace. McGonagall threw in a hand full of green powder, holding her hand out to the nearest student. “Quickly now! Before they get though,” no one asked who she was speaking about, and one after another, each walked into the green flames, and spun out of existence.

Hagrid wiped tears from his eyes as he watched the last of the students floo out of the school. He hoped that it would still be here for the students to return to. As the last one stepped through, the flames died, and the fire finely flickered out as the headmistress cast a dispelling charm on the fireplace, disconnecting it from the Floo Network.

“They'll be fine, Hagrid,” McGonagall comforted Hagrid as she leaned on the wall for support. “Their all in a safe place until the danger passes,” it seemed to take a tremendous effort to push herself off of the wall. She seemed to age by years with each tremble of the castle walls. “Let's go,”

XXX

The world was perfect. The darkness around her seemed to shimmer with hidden silver stars that seemed to sing of the perfection of everything. She stood in a dark room, the most serene smile on her face as she swayed back and forth to the music in her head.

Pale skeletal hands turned the locket over in his hands, admiring the beauty of the design. This locket was much more than just the gold, emeralds, rubies, and diamonds. It held something much more precious than any metal or stone. That cold predatory gleam had never left his eyes. He stalked Ginny Weasley like a snake would while ambushing its prey.

He slowly floated over to the box that sat on a pedestal, using his wand to open the lock. His smile spread into a Death's Head grin as he viewed his entire collection: Rowena's Quill, Hufflepuff's Goblet, Gryffindor's Crest, the Opal Necklace, and now, Slytherin's Locket. He placed the object down beside the necklace, admiring the beauty of what they were and what they represented.

In just a few more months, fifty years of work would come to fruition. Every struggle he had endured, every indignity, every defeat; the end result was worth it all. And now as an added bonus, he had the love of little Harry's life in his grasp, ready to follow his every command. Oh, the irony was wonderful. So wonderful he allowed himself to laugh.

Lucius Malfoy stood beside his most recent acquisition. He was concerned with how things would seem to the outside world, but he could not question his master's pragmatic reasoning. The Malfoy family needed an heir to carry the family into the new age, and even though Ginny was a few years younger than Cissy when he had married her, she was not too young. She had changed much since he had seen her in Flourish & Blotts buying books for her first year at Hogwarts.

Back then she was as skinny as a bean pole and as short as a Goblin. Now she was nearly up to his shoulder, about how tall his son Draco was when he was her age. She had filled out quite nicely, though thankfully not to the extent of her mother. Her hair was not the garish red of her siblings, but had darkened somewhat into a rather attractive auburn. Despite her family, she had managed to become beautiful. Yes, his master was right. She would help him produce many heirs to his name if she was as fertile as her mother was.

Despite everything that has happened in Lucius' life up until now, he was hopeful. The purity of the Malfoy blood would continue forever after, and the filth of that disgraceful Potter would be cleansed from the earth once and for all. For the first time in years, Lucius allowed himself to bask in the glow of his master's brilliance. His hands found Ginny's shoulders, and he held her to him, looking down at her serene expression. Fortunately, he would not have to force himself to perform his duty, and neither would Ginny.