Orpheus' Legacy

Not again, right?

Draco opened his eyes to a dark ceiling. On instinct he sat up and strained his ears for the telltale signs of a Death Eater approaching his room, when all of a sudden he remembered that he was not supposed to be here.

He wracked his brains for where he was supposed to be. It felt as if he knew where, but for some reason it was tiptoeing on the edge of his consciousness, not quite becoming a fully fledged thought. He sat on his silken bedsheets, frown creasing his eyebrow as he searched desperately for the key he was missing in his mind.

Then out of the blue, his head was flooded with all of his recent memories. The battle, the fire, Potter saving him, Potter's death, Potter being alive, joining the right side and most importantly the final fight.

The death of The Dark Lord.

The last thing he could recall was Potter clutching the Elder Wand, raising it in his hand in victory. So if that was the case, why was he here?

Draco looked around again, as if by glaring at the walls he could will his bedroom into something else. He stood and walked, tracing his fingers along the pristine walls and looking outside his window. It seemed to be early evening. The sun was setting, dipping behind the hills which surrounded the manor, painting the sky a dilute golden colour.

How very strange this was, it could have been that he'd died, but he sincerely doubted that. If he had died, he'd surely be forced to confront all of the treacherous wrongs he'd committed in his life, regardless of who was really waiting in the heavens. Somehow he'd managed to betray both good and evil at some point or other, and he was certain that he wouldn't be entering the afterlife unscathed.

No, this was something else. Was he dreaming perhaps? Had seeing Potter's fabulous triumph made him so euphoric he'd simply swooned and fainted? Draco snorted to himself, of course that hadn't happened, so it seemed he wasn't dreaming either.

So if he wasn't dead nor dreaming, what was he?

Draco pushed open his bedroom door, walking tentatively into the empty hallway. At once he was met with an astonishing sight; the blood-stained carpets he was so used to seeing were pristine, the walls were bare of the scratches and slashes left by Fenrir Greyback and most noticeably, every room was open to the hall and empty of belongings.

The Death Eaters were no longer here.

Throughout the war, Draco had grown accustomed to walking through this same passage and seeing every door locked shut, hearing screams of the innocent as he made his way throughout the house. Whenever a room had been open, he could see the ruined bedsheets and furniture, all the dark artefacts the Death Eaters would leave about their residence.

Yet somehow, it was all inexplicably gone.

The possibility he was dreaming once again returned to Draco as he began to descend the large staircase to the entrance hall, maybe he shouldn't have dismissed that idea quite so quickly the first time. Although he may not be dreaming, he could still be in some sort of fabricated state of mind- not quite dreaming but not quite wakeful.

It seemed the only explanation, how else could he have gotten back here? How else could his home be so suddenly clean and free of terror?

As he mulled this over, he walked into the dining room and stopped. Sat at the head of the table was none other than Lucius Malfoy.

"Father? What are you doing here? Why are you in 'his' place?" Draco asked.

His father looked up from the Daily Prophet in his hands, gaze raking upon him in that superior way Draco had always wished to replicate.

"What on earth do you mean, Draco?"

Draco paused. Perhaps interrogating this 'father' (if this really was his father) about events which he possibly knew nothing of was not the best course of action as of this moment. He schooled his alarmed features into a look of indifference, quickly coming up with an excuse for his brash words.

"I just meant," he paused, trying to fabricate a believable reason he'd refer to his Father's seat as 'his place', "I just meant that I thought you were out, I didn't realise you were still here."

Best to just pretend it never happened. Hopefully Lucius would agree.

Lucius frowned, "I have been here all day Draco, I told you, I've had important things to discuss with people who do not concern you. Why are you here? Did you wish to speak with me?"

"Erm, I just wanted to ask, er.."

His father levelled him an impatient glare.

"If you'd, um, planned anything for- uh, this weekend?"

Brilliant. Well done Draco. He didn't even know what day it was.

"Well of course I have, have you hit your head Draco? You appear to be having some memory loss issues at the moment." Lucius said irritatedly, a hint of concern seeping into his voice.

"Ah, yes! Right, of course, sorry. It just slipped my mind, is all."

Lucius raised a white eyebrow.

"Good. You had better be back to your usual sharpness before the World Cup, then. We are in the Minister's box, I don't want you embarrassing me in front of the Ministry people."

What?

"Right, of course- um, Father. I'll be fine by then," Draco said, beginning to retreat from the room, "I think I just need a bit of rest, goodbye Father!" He finished, darting out the room and pelting through the front door into the gardens.

His head was reeling. It all began to click. The World Cup. The Quidditch World Cup he had attended in fourth year. Everything looked as it had then, that was why all the walls were clean, why his father was still head of household.

So of course that meant something else, this would be the year of the Dark Lord's return. This was the year he would come back.

Draco breathed in deeply, allowing the scents and sounds of his garden to overcome him. The fragrance of his mother's flowers calmed his senses, and slowly his mind began to clear.

In that case, there was some things he needed to do. First, as soon as he could, he would find Dumbledore. Although he was not Draco's favourite teacher, he was certainly most qualified for this situation, as well as being unflinchingly 'good'. It would've been Draco's preference to tell Snape, but anyone in league with the Dark Lord would be a poor choice, and if he wanted to change things this time around, he needed to be aiding the light side.

Dumbledore would surely know what to do, he may not know what was to come but he would know how to handle this situation, after all, he'd most certainly been in possession of Time Turners at some point in his life, he was Dumbledore.

Secondly, Draco would find Potter. He didn't care if Dumbledore would tell him he shouldn't, or if Potter at this age would rather swallow a snake than speak to him civilly, he needed to know. He was the centre of all the mess after all, if anyone needed enlightening it was him.

And last, but most definitely not least, Draco would change the past. He would be on the right side this time, he had made his mistakes the first time around, and now he knew what he needed to do.

It was time to fix things.