A Tree
A Month After The Showdown
The ashes of that tree lingered in his mind, a haunting reminder of what could have been. It was more than just a memory; it was a symbol of his and Cho’s freedom from the desktop. Those afternoons spent beneath its sprawling branches, the laughter shared with Cho, now felt like echoes from another world.
Each apple plucked from its branches carried a sweetness he could almost taste again. The swing he had crafted with care, creaking gently as he lost himself in thought, had been his escape. In those fleeting moments of joy, he had found solace from the chaos that engulfed him—chaos dictated by his code, urging him towards violence, towards conflict.
He had always wrestled with the voice inside him, the one that insisted The Chosen One was merely a tool, a weapon for his mass destruction. That The Chosen One is neither his friend nor his brother. Even so, every smile from the red-eyed boy had sent a jolt through him, making him fight his code’s yelling to harm who he thought was his only brother.
Now, as he stood amid the tree’s charred remains, the sky above bled with a red sunset. The sunlight that had once danced through the leaves was replaced by a suffocating darkness, mirroring the turmoil within him. His code was erased, but his memories were not. Those memories surged like waves, crashing against the walls he had built, and he was left wondering if he would ever find real peace—or if his relationship had been nothing but an illusion all along. An illusion that he crafted.
He had sacrificed his relationship with Cho, but in doing so, he had burned the very essence of his humanity to ash. The tree may be gone, but its spirit lingered, a constant reminder of the cost of his destruction. Sitting in the remains of the first tree he had ever seen, he wondered if someone like him could ever be considered a brother.
Dark didn’t care about friends. He never really wanted any. That’s why he didn’t bother to talk to anyone in his grade. Until his first class.
He was almost late to Transfiguration because of his detour of dropping Cho off at his first class and making sure he ate breakfast. He ran all the way there and got through the door just as the bell rang.
“Mr Dark, you sure are cutting it close,” Professor McGonagall remarked.
“Sorry Professor, it won't happen again,” he told her nicer than he would normally. He couldn’t be getting detention on his first day of school (AN *I slowly turn my crusty eyes to look pointedly at Chosen*).
“Make sure it doesn’t,” she told him, gesturing for him to sit down.
Dark looked around and saw the only available spot in the back row next to a small girl with brown hair. Dark walked over and sat down, not even sparing a second glance at his seating partner.
“Today, we will be reviewing how to turn a matchstick into a needle. As the first day back, this will be important to get right in order for you as students to be able to move on and do more difficult spells.” Professor McGonagall took out her wand and with a flick of her wrist, distributed matches to all of their desks. “Now, I would like to see whether or not you remember the correct wand movement. I will be monitoring your progress, you may begin.”
Dark looked down at his matchstick. This would be easy, he already learned this last week. Dark jabbed his wand at his matchstick saying “Conmutocus” and the match grew longer and thinner, turning silver and pointed. His matchstick became the perfect needle.
“Wow, you are actually good!” the girl next to him exclaimed, “I wasn’t sure of your competency because of your transferring and all, but you did it flawlessly.”
“Did you just imply that you thought I would fucking suck?” Dark asked her angrily, “Just because I was homeschooled, doesn’t make me any less capable!”
The girl smiled nervously and said, “Every other Slytherin in our grade has been thinking the same but I can admit that I was wrong.” She looked back to her own match and after a small jab and an incantation, her match turned into a needle. Then she turned back to him, “I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Asteria Greengrass, it is nice to meet you.”
“I suppose it isn’t so bad meeting you,” Dark murmured, “I’m sure you already know my name is Dark, so there is no point in introducing myself.”
“Yeah, I was wondering about that.”
“What?”
“Is that your real name? Or just a nickname of sorts? People have been wondering because we were never told your family's last name.”
Dark was expecting people to not believe that it was their real names, but he wasn’t expected to be asked such a direct question about it so soon.
“Yes, that is my real name. I’m just as annoyed with having it. As for my family name… that will remain a secret. Only for the reason that it’s funny to see people wonder what it is. It leaves room for suspense and mystery.”
Dark always loved a good mystery, especially when it is asking the wrong question. It is too bad his name is a title and he has no real last name (he supposed that Snape, knowing Cho is actually called ‘The Chosen One’ might actually think his name is ‘The Dark One’ which is actually really cool).
“Suspense and mystery, huh?” Asteria said, “You certainly caused that with your arrival. No one knew you guys were coming, not even the Ministry!” She paused for a moment then added, “My father sent me an owl this morning asking about you two. He works at the Ministry, but he was just worried you were a Muggle-born or something.” Her expression turned sour at the words.
“Really?” This was some top-notch information. Was the Ministry really that interested in two mystery kids? He thought they can’t be that fucking stupid. If they cared about their wellbeing they would focus more on the fact that Harry fucking Potter aka the chosen one aka the boy who lived told them that Voldemort came back. As The Dark Lord himself, he knew that Voldemort would definitely take advantage of their silence and pretend to be dead to infiltrate his enemy ranks. It’s villainy 101.
“Yeah, he was more concerned about whether you were a pureblood than the fact that MACUSA sent you here themselves and kept it quiet. What’s up with that by the way?” She turned her second match into a needle. Dark almost forgot they were supposed to be doing that.
Dark clenched his fist and said, “I’m not telling you! I have a mysterious image to uphold, thank you very much.”
Asteria laughed at his words, then said “Fair enough, I won’t ask any more questions right now. If you want to know anything yourself, however, I would be glad to answer. I won’t answer them during class though. I need to keep up my grades. Ask me during lunch.”
With that, Asteria turned back to her matches and was silent. Having her as an ally could be a good idea. He’ll take note of that. Then he turned to his own matches, wishing Draco was at least a little bit like her.
Dark hated Herbology. Plants despised him, this is not even an exaggeration. He wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up getting banned from the greenhouse at this point. It is actually getting ridiculous. He was starting to hope that he won't have to do this class anymore and he just started real class today.
Professor Sprout seemed to think he was cursed because the peaceful plants kept attacking him. She said that him battling the plants with his small shovel was distracting to his classmates and that she would mention this to Dumbledore. So he was sent outside the greenhouse to stand there until the class was over.
Dark looked up at the blue sky. The rain that started this morning had stopped, but the ground was still wet. He plopped down on the courtyard’s grass, sitting cross-legged. He didn’t care about water, especially since there is an immediate drying spell.
He reached into his bag, pulling out the book he got from the library before breakfast titled Veils of Silence: The Art of Invisibility. He had some trouble finding a visible book about invisibility, as most of the ones he found were invisible and therefore unreadable. He reached down and pulled some grass from the ground, sprinkling the now-dead plant back into its living kind. He might as well do his research about invisibility now. That’ll get him more time later for his project.
Flipping open to the first page, he started reading:
In a world that thrives on visibility, where every glance and whisper can expose a hidden truth, the true mastery lies in the art of invisibility. Whether achieved through the invisibility potion, enchanted items, or advanced transfiguration, this elusive form of magic has confounded even the most skilled wizards throughout their lives. The invisibility potion does not offer lasting invisibility, and even the most adept wizards struggle to maintain it through the Invisibility spell, often opting to become Animagi instead. Moreover, enchanted items that grant invisibility tend to lose their power swiftly (the famed Cloak of Invisibility will not be addressed here, as it remains a myth).
That piqued Dark’s interest. The Cloak of Invisibility, huh? It was labeled a myth, but was it truly? He doubted it was what he was seeking, though. What were the odds that someone possessed a legendary item widely thought to be nonexistent? He wouldn’t say those odds were zero, but they were certainly less than one. Rather than dwell on the cloak, he decided to flip to the section on the invisibility potion instead.
His research into the invisibility potion yielded little result, partially because it contained an ingredient called Tincture of Demiguise, which was invisible to the naked eye. This made it very rare and hard to find. However, the main reason he dismissed the potion idea was its short five-second time limit. Their eavesdropper was 100% nearby for more than five seconds and did not seem to be in any hurry. That only left one other possible option. An enchanted object.
Dark was starting to get excited now, so he opened the book to the section on enchanted objects of invisibility:
Most people picture rare invisibility cloaks when they think of enchanted objects that grant invisibility. However, many other items can also be infused with this power. Unfortunately, many of these relics have been lost over time, as imbuing an object with true invisibility makes it completely undetectable. Even then, not all invisible objects provide the ability to become invisible; some are simply invisible themselves. True objects that grant invisibility are quite rare, and no one knows exactly how many exist today.
This is the most probable reason, he’ll have to learn more about their suspect before finding out if it is worth it to delve more. Snapping the book closed, he placed it back in his bag. He doubts their eavesdropper had malicious intent, but he doesn’t intend to waste his time on trying to figure out what kind of object they used. They most likely used an invisibility cloak. He didn’t need to know more.
He stood up and performed a quick drying charm. Looking out past the Greenhouses, he walked past them, to the edge of the castle walls. It was almost midday, and the sun shone brightly on his skin as he stretched. The view of the lake was stunning, it reminded him of an old view back at home base. His eyes settled on a particular tree at the water's base. He suddenly felt rather lonely.
You should jump down there. His mind told him. He did want to see the view from that tree. Glancing around to see if there were any people nearby, he saw no one.
Like I would actually do that. He scoffed to himself, now walking away. But then again…
Turning on his heel, he ran and dived headfirst from the castle wall, feeling great as the cool wind hit his face. He almost yelled with delight, but then reminded himself that he was not to be seen. He plummeted toward the ground, twisting in the air gracefully he landed in a superhero pose, cracking the ground under him.
He grinned, feeling better than he had in weeks. Standing up and dusting himself off, he took out his wand and muttered “Reparo”, fixing the ground (He was glad the spell worked because otherwise, he had no idea what he would have done).
Almost skipping, he made his way over to the lone tree overshadowing the lake. His mood began to fade as he got nearer to the tree. The pep in his step gradually became somber as his wide grin fell into a frown. It looks too similar…
He stopped ten feet from the tree. His legs felt like they were rooted in place. Not being able to take another step forward, he looked at the tree’s branches. That one would be perfect for a swing.
Why was he here? He could almost envision him and Cho dangling from the apple tree’s lush green branches. Laughing. Sparing. Fighting. He hadn’t forgotten the pain he felt under that tree, trying to force himself to not hurt Cho. He wanted to. He remembers. When it got worse, he would sometimes slide his knife out of its holder and… He shook his head, he could feel a crawling sensation down his scared arms as he clutched his hand into a fist. He hated those memories.
This isn’t even the same tree.
This isn’t even the same tree… Damn it!
Dark turned from the tree. He was not ready yet. Although, he felt like he should be. This is stupid. It’s only a tree. With that, he walked away, returning back to the castle. It was almost time for lunch, and all he knows is he didn’t want an apple.
Lunch started pretty well. He met up with Asteria and sat in between her and Pansy Parkinson and across from Blaise Zabini, who subtly was watching him. Then, while talking to Asteria about how Professor Sprout thought he was cursed (she seemed rather interested in that for some reason), he spotted Cho grinning at him and running over to their table. That is when everything started going wrong.
“What is it this time,” he asked Cho, cutting his meatball with his knife, not even looking at Cho who appeared behind him. His housemates seemed to have realized what was happening, and the noise around them died down. He knew they were listening intently, he’d have to be smart about his words.
What made Cho so happy anyway?
“I won the bet,” Chosen told him, “Snape gave me ten points.”
That would explain it. But Dark didn’t quite believe him yet.
“No way!” he yelled, turning to Cho and flicking his knife in his direction. Cho’s face looked slightly smug, “I don’t believe you!”
“As much as I don’t want to admit it,” Pansy interjected, “he’s telling the truth.”
Dark looked over at her, looking for any deceit or motive. He only saw her lips turn up slightly. She probably wants to know about our bet. Looking back at Cho, he scowled at his defeat.
I can’t take the loss yet. In a blur of motion, Dark moved his knife quickly. “What did you do to get points,” Dark asked, pressing his knife against Cho’s throat threateningly. Cho only laughed at him.
“I saved the classroom from going up in flames,” Cho told him, pushing the knife away from his throat, “Now tell me what you're working on.”
The Slytherins at the table quieted some more, probably wanting to hear about his mystery project. He could feel their glances at him, expecting something. Why did he have to mention that here?
“I’ll tell you later,” Dark said, flipping the knife and catching it in the coolest way possible, then turning back to his meal, “I’m eating right now.”
He was telling Cho that he didn’t want others to overhear their conversation.
“Fine, but you better tell me today,” Chosen told him, “I don’t want you blowing up the school or something.”
WHAT THE FUCK DID HE JUST SAY! Dark could already feel his housemates’ interest in his own business grow tenfold. MY PROJECT IS NOT GOING TO BE USED FOR DESTROYING!
“I WOULDN’T DO THAT SHUT UP!” He yelled at Cho, “GO EAT SOME DAMN FOOD, IDIOT!” He wanted to launch his knife at him. WHY DID HE THINK THAT SAYING THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA?! Cho somehow slipped away and back to his own table. Asteria laughed at his anger, her eyes were shining with curiosity and interest. Great.
After she laughed at his misfortune, she asked him, “What now, mystery boy? Got a plan to destroy the school?”
“SHUT UP!” Dark yelled, “I’M JUST DOING RESEARCH!”
Asteria seemed to fall strangely silent at his words. Dark gave her a small glance. She was looking down at her plate, her face hidden from behind her hair.
“Understandable, I have some things I want to research in the Library as well,” She told him, not bothering to look up. Her words sounded sad as if something was weighing her. That was an interesting reaction.
“Well, anyway,” she continued like nothing happened, “I was wondering whether you considered trying out for the Quidditch team?”
“What’s Quidditch?” He deadpanned.
Silence.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘WHAT’S QUIDDITCH’?! I THOUGHT YOU TOLD MALFOY YOU WERE A PUREBLOOD!”
History of Magic was just as boring as he thought it was going to be. History was an ok subject but not when Professor Binns was the teacher. Thank goodness it was over. Next time he goes to that class, he is going to make sure he brings an actually interesting book to read about Ancient Runes. ONLY THEN will the class be productive with his time.
Now he had his free period. The best part of the day. Time to go to the library!
Dark sped-walked down the familiar path to his destination, ignoring all the paintings that whispered about him as he passed. Apparently, after his first arrival here they have been speaking about his plant ‘curse’ and gossiping about his rather pointed teeth. Some of them thought he was part vampire. He thought they were stupid (he wouldn't be surprised if they told the students, because he had noticed that more and more of them were avoiding him as the day went on).
He didn’t mind their avoidance of him. It made it easier to walk around and he never wanted to talk to them anyway. He wasn’t here to make friends. He was here to help Cho so they can get the fuck out of this place.
Finally arriving in the library, he slipped through the shelves to the section on ancient runes. His project will be so cool if he is able to get it to work. He only needs some metal, the right runes, and a place to work. He even knew the perfect place to get all of those: The Room of Requirement.
He already had his place of work, and most of the runes he thinks he’ll use. He just needed a few more books before he could begin. Let’s see… Nope. Uh- no. Hmm… this one is alright. Dark opened the book and read, Destruction Runes- he slammed the book shut and placed it back on the shelf. Nope. Ah- here’s some good ones. He quickly took his new books and checked them out.
Eager to read his new books, he dashed out of the library and bounded up five flights of stairs. As he entered the familiar corridor where he and Cho had arrived, he approached the seventh-floor wall that concealed the room he was looking for.
Uh, how am I supposed to open the room? He forgot that tiny detail. What did that old fart say again? Dark thought back to his first day here. He remembered Dumbledore saying something about asking the room for help. How do you ask then?
Dark decided to pace in front of the wall, now thinking: All I need is a place to make my project. He turned around sharply, pacing back in front of the wall. Hopefully, there are some more books I can find in there. His robes fluttered behind him as he turned around again, still pacing. And there definitely is enough junk where I can find some metal.
Dark stopped as he spotted the wall turning back into doors.
How did he do that? OH! He asked the room for what he needed while pacing in front of it! That is how it works! He entered the room. I never doubted my abilities whatsoever, he thought proudly.
He was met with a pleasant surprise as the room was not filled with junk as he last saw it as, but with a full mechanical workhouse. The ceiling was quite high and lofty and there were windows at the top, filtering in light. There were books on runes in the right back corner next to a furnace. In the left corner, was a welding station with all sizes of metal sheets and poles stacked in barrels and shelves. And in the middle is all the supplies needed to carve runes.
Holy shit this place is amazing! But… His mind was suspicious of the room, even though it was everything he needed it seemed too good to be true.
He cautiously walked up to the middle to grab one of the tools on the table. Before he did, however, he gathered an explosion in his hand just in case. Snatching up the little pen-like object, he leaped back to the door, ready for anything.