Soul-Shift

After the war, Draco’s father was sent to Azkaban and, while Draco and his mother were pardoned, life wasn’t easy in the slightest. His mother was sick and was staying in St. Mungos full-time while Draco worked to pay her expenses. On top of that, his friends haven’t contacted him, too afraid to be seen as ‘suspicious’ for being involved with him. His family did house Voldemort and so they were watched extra closely.

There was only one place that would accept him, a apothecary in Knockturn Alley. It was run by an older woman named Medea Vane, whose son was a Death Eater, so she was sympathetic to the younger Death Eaters.

While he wasn’t officially allowed to make potions, due to him being a war criminal, Medea often looked the other way. Draco was glad she did, as it was one of the only things he had found joy in after the war.

Usually, though, he was up front, talking to customers. Or rather, it was more of him being talked down to by customers. Still, he was a Slytherin. He knew when to keep his head down. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant job, but it was better than nothing. And, in a way, it was better than being under someone else’s thumb.

It had been three years, almost four, since the war and life was hard, but he felt freer than he had ever felt before.

There were a few good things, however, including the young children that came to visit him. They were children of Death Eaters, so they ended up living on the streets, surviving on the kindness of the people of Knockturn Alley. As such, they were unable to go to Hogwarts when letters were sent out. Because of this, Medea and a few others bought them their own wands and taught them what they knew. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

Draco, too, helped the children and teens learn and he had grown close to them, as well. While he didn’t have a wand anymore, he could still guide and instruct them. The children even called him ‘Professor’, though he felt a little undeserving of the title. There was a group of three, in particular, that came to learn. They had even stayed after the make-shift classes ended to ask questions. Although he’d never admit it, he was particularly fond of them. 

One was the granddaughter of Medea, Moira, who stayed with the older woman. She was only fourteen, but she was very bright and stubborn. In a bittersweet way, she reminded him of Granger. No doubt she would have been a Ravenclaw, though she always said she’d be a Gryffindor. She brought along the two others, varying in age. 

Li Lan and her little brother, Li Ning were the other two. Li Lan was the oldest, almost sixteen. She, unlike the others, had gone to Hogwarts and was sorted into Slytherin. Sadly, after her parents passed and their assets seized as reprimand for war cost, she was unable to afford the cost of the materials needed. Plus, she needed to take care of Li Ning, the only family she had left.

Li Ning was a quiet eleven year old, but he was eager to learn. Draco had a sneaking suspicion that Li Ning would have been sorted into Hufflepuff, his kindness and loyalty shining above all else.

All in all, the three of them were all bright and brilliant students. It was such a shame that they were forced to learn only the bare minimum from unqualified teachers.

One day, as he was walking to his small room at the Inn, he heard the sounds of struggling. He slowly came over to see Moira being backed into a corner, surrounded by a group of people. She looked absolutely terrified and Draco didn’t even hesitate before he stepped in.

“What’s going on here?” He asked and the group turned to stare at him. Moira immediately rushed past her attackers and hid behind the blond. He allowed it, even moving his body to shield her further.

“Malfoy.” One of them spoke and Draco could vaguely recognize them as people from school, although he couldn’t recall their names.

“You lot should be ashamed,” Draco couldn’t help but comment, “Bullying a little girl like that.”

They scoffed, “You’re one to talk about bullying.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re in the right,” Draco shot back.

The group scowled. One, however, suddenly grinned and pulled out their wand. He looked to his group and spoke, “Why don’t we show you what it really feels like to be bullied.”

Moira tugged on his sleeve and whispered, “ Professor…”

Before Draco could even try to calm the shaking girl, the person pointed their wand at him, “ Crucio!”

Immediately, the pain was overwhelming. Draco staggered back as it flowed throughout his body like burning lava. His legs gave out and his head smashed hard into the concrete ground. Still, the pain didn’t stop.

Apparently this wasn’t enough for them, because a few moments later, one of them spoke again, “ Avada Kedavra!”

The green light glowing dangerously was the last thing he saw.

—--------

As Draco opened his eyes, he was shocked to find that he was breathing, that he was alive. Slowly sitting up, he looked around the room and found that he knew where he was. He was underneath the apothecary where he worked.

Although it was an apothecary, the Vane family also used the basement as their mortuary. They keep their dead’s bodies looking as if they had only just recently passed. Still, that didn’t explain why he was there.

As his eyes looked around, he caught sight of a mirror on the wall across from him and froze. 

That wasn’t him.  

The man looking back at him young, he’d guess he was in his late teens to early twenties. Only a little younger than he was. He had skin paler than even his own and long blonde hair that was more yellow than his own platinum hair. Black eyes stared back instead of his blue-gray eyes.

He was dressed in light-weight gray robes with his feet bare. His gaze snapped down to see that he was, in fact, wearing the same clothes. He was, somehow, the young man in the mirror. His hand and his eyes immediately went to his left forearm, only to see that the Dark Mark was no longer there.

Wrapping his hands around his new body, he began to panic. He immediately stood, but his legs gave out the second he stepped onto the floor. When he finally managed to stand, he walked slowly towards the door.

When he got closer to the door, however, he saw another body on another slab of stone. When he got closer, he let out a shout.

The body was his! It was his fucking body that looked so lifeless. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, all that was in his mind was the image of his dead body in front of him.

Suddenly, the door to upstairs opened. Trying to back up, he fell on his arse. Still, he crawled backwards until his back hit the wall.

As the footsteps grew closer and the figure came into view, he began to breathe harshly and fast. The figure was close enough to make out, he calmed down slightly. 

It was only Medea.

Still, he was weary as she slowly approached him. She knelt down and asked, “Draco?”

He was still quite dazed and something about her tone made him confused, even more confused than moments before, and so he stayed silent. 

She asked again, “You are Draco, right?”

Finally, he nodded and she breathed a sigh of relief, “So, they actually did it. They brought you back.”

Draco gulped, “What’s going on? Why am I alive? And, and whose body am I in?”

She pursed her lips, “Let me close up the shop and then we’ll talk.”

After the store was closed, the two sat down.

“When Moira got me and led me to your body,” Medea began, “I thought it best to keep your body in the mortuary, at least until I contacted your mother. She’s alright, by the way.”

She added, noting Draco’s panicked expression, “I took it upon myself to keep up to date with her payments.”

Draco sagged in relief, “Thank you, Medea, I’ll make sure to repay you-”

Medea waved him off, “No need, dear. You saved my Moira, it was the least I can do.” She cleared her throat, “Anyway, as I was saying. We found the most peculiar thing. Your soul was clinging to your body. Moira and the Li siblings thought that was a sign and were determined to bring you back. I tried to keep them away from that stuff, but you know how they are. They found a way to shift your soul into a new body.”

Draco stared for a moment as she stopped. He took a breath before speaking in a shaky voice, “They…Soul-Shifted me?”

Medea hummed in agreement and Draco shook his head, “I thought it only worked if at least one of the Shifters is the one who performs the spell?”

She snorted, “As if that would stop Moira. She did more research on this than she does for classes, and that’s saying something.” She shook her head, “You didn’t have a Mark, so we assumed it failed. However…” She trailed off, but she didn’t need to say another word anyway.

Soul-Shifting was a new and highly-illegal practice within the Wizarding World. People used it for many different reasons, though most used it to get away with crimes and leaving an innocent to take their place. However, there is one flaw with Soul-Shifting that the Aurors use to their advantage. 

Soul-Marks. 

A blue mark appears on the body, indicating a successful Soul-Shift.

After a few moments, Medea stood, “We should go get you some clothes. I have some shoes that will do for now, but you’ll need clothing.”

Draco frowned, “You don’t need to-”

“Draco.” She said sternly, “You are like my own grandchild. I’m going to buy you clothes whether or not you agree, but I thought you’d like to pick out your own.”

Draco bit his lip, hiding his smile, “Alright.”

They went to shop in Diagon Alley. While there were plenty of shops in Knockturn, there were no clothing shops. As they entered the alley, Medea allowed him to wander while she bought his necessities. He protested, of course, but she insisted.

So, there he was, wandering around Diagon Alley. He was cautious, of course. He was a Slytherin, after all, and he didn’t exactly feel like dying again. It was best to keep his head down.

At least, that was until he saw a truly horrifying sight in a dark alleyway. 

A teenager, a child, was backed into the corner of the alley as a man was approaching closing in on her. He was yelling something, but Draco couldn’t understand a word.

Maybe it was stupidity, but Draco couldn’t stand to watch someone get hurt. Not again. So, he crept forward and grabbed a glass bottle from the floor. Just as he grew closer, the man grabbed the kid and Draco instinctively smashed the bottle over his head.

The man’s skull must have been made of steel, because he barely flinched. He swung around to face him and Draco gulped when he realized the man towered over him. That was when he noticed the man’s uniform.

An Auror. Fuck.

Before the man could speak or do anything, Draco bolted and the man gave chase. He weaved through the crowd as he heard the Auror shove people out of his way.

Draco kept running and when he turned the corner, he immediately came to a halt. 

Dead end.

“Nowhere to run now, little bitch.” The Auror snarled. Great, Draco thought, He was alive again for barely a day and he was going to die once more. How pathetic.

The man began to stalk toward him and Draco backed up until he hit the brick wall. Draco gulped and shut his eyes tightly, hoping for a less painful death than his last one.

“What’s going on here?!”

Draco cursed his luck. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know who was stepping in. He’d know that voice anywhere. The man seemed to, as well, as he immediately backed off and lowered his head.

“Auror Potter.” The Auror spoke.

“I’ll take it from here.” Potter’s tone sounded final and the Auror knew it. The man scurried off and he was alone with his old childhood nemesis. 

Brilliant.

It was silent for a while before Potter spoke in a comforting tone, “You’re alright now.”

He sounded so close and he could almost feel the other man’s breath as he spoke.

Finally, Draco felt compelled to open his eyes and stare at the Chosen One. Something in his gaze seemed to stun Potter, because he just stared at him. Into his eyes. It was starting to get a little uncomfortable.

He doesn’t know, can’t know it was him, Draco assured himself. He was in a new body and he hadn’t even spoken to him. The one good thing about his new body, he admitted.

“Your eyes…” Potter whispered.

Draco forced himself to look away, “What’s wrong with my eyes?”