Prologue: Part 2.1 - Ramblings of a certain Malfoy I
I awoke to the sound of howling winds. The adrenaline rush that once numbed my wounds now gone, releasing gnawing pain all over my body. I try to get up and observe what was around me but a piercing pain struck through my left abdomen. While releasing a breath of hot air, I gave up and collapsed back to the ground; instead I looked around to scan my surroundings.
A picturesque spectacle of millions of gean trees, with snow-like white clusters of flowers susurrating on their branches. The wind blowing like a whimsical conductor of a live symphony, with billions of petals dancing in perfect synchronization, drifting about in the winds, whirling around me with ferocity and gentleness.
How it makes me wish to fly among them. A sanctuary of aloofness and tranquility. I want to play quidditch again...
I raise my hand and point it upwards creating a few hand signs as I cast a simple and temporary fidelius. I take hold of my wand that was resting in its holster and once again, point it at the sky Fianto Duri. (allows a caster to keep a charm alive while doing or casting something else)
Wandless wordless magic really takes its toll on me but there is no other way to cast a spell without the DE detecting it and tracing it back to me. It is a great regret of ours that they were able to construct spells, and to make matters worse, no one has come up with a counter to any of those new spells, not even Granger.
We also have no lead as to who those genius death eaters are, well... the golden trio seem to have an idea. Though it is either out of distrust, or something that could create distrust that they kept it a secret. I would vote for the letter, not by bias but conjecture from multiple variables.
One variable in particular screams out the most, the fact that no one seems to know. Not just me but everyone excluding the trio. It's obvious that they're keeping it a secret to keep their forces on their side. Maybe it's to keep the order's belief and hopes that they could win. But if that were the case, then that secret must be terrible enough to make everyone lose hope once they find out about it. And at this point, even I would prefer to be kept ignorant as well.
Inspecting the wound, I decided, Yup, its deeper than any of the wounds Potter gave me when we were still in Hogwarts. I trace my wand over the wound. Vulnera Sanentur.
I'm not one to believe in blessings; however, it truly was one to have found that potions book will all those new spells and brewing methods in the vanishing room ('Room of Requirement') before Crabbe released fiendfyre in there about 7 or 8 years back. What befuddles me is that, it includes the same spell used by my godfather to heal me when Potter decided to become a filthy butcher. I could find neither this, nor Potter's spell in any other book, whether it be dark or light. I believe it was created by this 'half-blood prince' and we need to get him on our side. To at least, even out the spell smith geniuses on both sides.
If you had told me back then that I would be fighting alongside the light, I would have probably scowled at you with mock laughter. Treating it as no more than a bad joke. Now, I honestly don't know what I saw in the dark lord.
He had managed to fool my father into following him, the least he could have done is given him face. My father could give and was worth more than any other noble could offer and hope to be; instead he leaves him to rot in Azkaban even if he could have taken him out within any of these past years.
My mother had also done no wrong, she was the perfect witch. Brilliant and has a sense of position and prestige. But instead of a salary raise, he rewarded her with a flash of green light from the tip of his wand. Her tired lifeless body falling to the ground was a memory I could never forget. It was what woke me up from the dream of a little boy with hopes and ambition in his eyes the day he first set foot into Hogwarts.
They were the two most important people to me, the only ones who... cared. Their incarceration and death could never be justified. That dark ligger would not know quality if you handed it to him on a silver plate.
It did not take me any sooner than the moment mother's lifeless body hit the ground, to realize that his promise of a perfect wizarding world was no more than complete hogwash. In under 3 months these happened. The lord of the noble and most ancient house of Malfoy, and a daughter, the rightful heir of the noble and most ancient house of black, gone.
He speaks of promise but his actions tell otherwise. At times I even wonder if he really is a pureblood. What if he's actually an unknown rare serpentine creature or a vampire born slightly distorted?
And no I am not babbling, blathering, nor prattling. If you must, I am loquaciously expounding you on my situation.
Lifting myself up into a sitting position, I survey the environment and struggle to shift my position so that I was looking into the river that had ruthless torrents the day before but now had a gentle flow.
Leaning down, I cup my hands and scoop up the water, slowly guiding it to my chapped lips and gulping it down. I looked down and saw the blood and grime attached to both my skin and hair. I grumbled at my unsanitary appearance, oh how I would have welcomed Azkaban if I knew this is what would greet me every waking day after.
Washing my face and hair and salvaging what was left of my appearance, I reach into my cloak and take out 'Time and Souls'. A book with no author, that I had taken from the Dark Lord's mansion - which previously was Hogwarts. This was the reason why those dogs were chasing me.
It was a suicide mission, obviously not one of choice. I'm sure all those lions would have jumped at the chance of impending death but some numbskull decided to send in 'the disposable dark worshiper'. Ahh yes, who else would send me to my death but the amazing grand chief warrior and redhead, Weasley.
He is just like his bigoted father, blinded with the prejudice of good and evil. Labelling everyone better as evil and those you can control as good. (A/N: Lolz like your one to talk about prejudice Malfoy. I swear every single main Harry Potter character is prejudiced. Cute, but a git at the same time)
Preaching about the greatness of muggles when you refuse to marry one. Molly Weasley nee Prewett, a waste of good blood.
The wizarding world has the most perfect and flawless system known on earth. Our tradition is what keeps us safe, on our feet, and closer to becoming the perfect human. Those muggles spell nothing but decline and social unrest.
Our ancestors have made the mistake of revealing themselves to the muggles, and causing hundreds if not thousands to be burnt alive on a stake. And when they couldn't find one of ours, they kill their own. This is not just manslaughter but a way of living for them and those bigoted redheads just don't understand this.
Pointing my wand at the book and casting Diminuendo (to make it small), I proceeded to hide it in my sleeve. I stood up and surveilled my surroundings before taking out my map, I carefully traced the river to find out how far I've deviated from my track. Approximately 250-270 meters southwest... great. Looks like I'm camping out for a while. . .
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
MoistJuicyLemon
MoistJuicyLemon /I'm sorry for the long ramblings, I really don't know what got over me to ramble so much. I did try my best to rant with teenage forsaken rich kid angst mixed with older Lucius bigheadedness, family love, and other stuff/Both he and I will improve in the future I promise. *when he goes to America*/
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