A/N: This is for Round 8 of Season 4 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm Chaser 2 for the Caerphilly Catapults.

For this round, we were told to write a dystopian AU - Voldemort has won. My particular prompt was to write about Hogwarts after Voldemort has taken power.

My optional prompts were 2. (quote) "An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind." - Gandhi, 3. (word) "moonlight," and 7. (song) "Centuries" by Fall Out Boy.


Voldemort was headmaster of Hogwarts. Voldemort had killed Harry Potter in a graveyard after the third Triwizard task. Even though he was supposed to be happy, Draco couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of dread that he felt when he stepped off the Hogwarts Express for his fifth year.

At the Sorting Feast, he scanned the other tables; the difference between this year and the last was very clear. Dumbledore remained as Charms professor, but many of the other professors Draco had known in his four years at Hogwarts were missing, and he had a feeling that asking after them would be a mistake. And then, Slytherin was overflowing so much that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had been pushed together. At least the Gryffindor table wasn't completely decimated, though there was a noticeable lack of ginger there—the Weasleys were gone. A chill spread through the room as Voldemort stood up to speak.

"The wizarding world will remember this day for centuries," Voldemort addressed the students, standing behind the podium that Dumbledore usually used for his start-of-term speech. "They will remember me for centuries. I will not stop until the whole world knows my name—knows of Hogwarts and its prestigious students and teachers under my command. And as long as there's a light you will remain in my shadow, and you will die for me. And before any of you Gryffindors get any ideas, mark my words: just one mistake is all it will take for each and every one of you to be forgotten. Some legends, like your precious boy who once lived, and then died, will fade to dust; some legends turn to gold and are remembered forever—for centuries. I am the latter. Welcome to my school."

The Dark Lord snapped his fingers, and the tables filled with food. Draco didn't know what he had expected, but the light that filled the Great Hall and the usual varied fare of the feast were off-putting. So was the silence. Not even the Slytherin table chattered like before. A heavy silence had settled over the room, and everyone stared at their plates.

"Mudblood." Draco's head jerked up at the word, chills rushing down his spine in a way he couldn't possibly have predicted as he followed his fellow Slytherins into the passage to the common room that was revealed with the password. No one lingered. As one, the Slytherin students filed up to their dormitories. Draco lay awake for a long time, that night, staring up at the canopy above his bed. The feeling of dread had settled into what felt like a cold, hard stone at the bottom of his stomach.

It wasn't long before students began to disappear—mostly Gryffindors, at first, then Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and even a few Slytherins. It would have been obvious to everyone that they were being eliminated were it not for the furtive glances that the death eater replacements of professors shared, and the cold fury evident on Voldemort's face when he noticed, or was told.

The remaining Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws began to huddle at one table during meals, and though they spoke in hushed tones, they no longer stared at their plates. Draco watched them, at first unable to identify what was different about their behavior, what set them apart from the Slytherins. Then, one day it struck him: they weren't afraid. After that, he became determined to find out what was really going on.

"Oy, Gryffindor!" he hissed at one of the younger ones he caught smiling after dinner that night. She turned and he beckoned to her. At first she only stared at him. He could hear her friends whispering: "Anna, don't do it!" "He's one of them, Anna!" Anna cocked her head, obviously considering, and just when Draco was about to give up, she told her friends to go ahead—that she would meet them at the common room.

She gasped when Draco grabbed her arm and dragged her into an abandoned corridor, but she didn't try to run away.

"You were smiling," he accused when they were far enough out of the way to speak.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

She pressed her lips together and frowned. "Why do you want to know?"

"It doesn't matter!" he snapped, "Tell me, or I'll—"

He hadn't expected her to remain silent, unmoving, in the face of his nameless threat, and he found that he couldn't even finish what he'd meant to say, that he would use on of the Unforgiveable Curses to make her tell him. His fingers curled around his wand, though, drawing it threateningly.

Anna cocked her head at him, eyes flicking to the movement of his hand. "Do you want to go, too?" she asked.

He was so surprised that he lowered his wand and whispered urgently, without malice, "Go where?"

"I don't know," she said, very seriously, "But I'm going next week.

"You can come!" she added, before Draco had time to respond properly. "It might take a while, because we're only going two and three at a time, but I'm sure Professor McGonagall would take you, too."

"Professor McGonagall? In the castle?"

"No."

"But you just said that she was!"

"No, I didn't."

"Then how do you know that name? You're a first year! You've never had Professor McGonagall!"

Anna seemed to be measuring him, judging him more harshly than even the Sorting Hat. "Are you really one of them?" she asked.

"No!" he said, then, "Yes. I don't know!"

She looked at him with something akin to pity. "Talk to Professor Dumbledore," she said, "I have to go."

"Goodbye!" she told him, over her shoulder just before she disappeared into the crowd of students heading for their dormitories.

The first time he had Charms after that, he lingered after everyone else had gone, one foot out the door.

"Did you have something to ask me, Draco?" he heard Dumbledore say to him. He bolted.

It took him a week before he got up the courage to say anything to the former Headmaster. Then, he stood in front of Dumbledore's desk for what seemed like an eternity, licking his lips and looking at the floor. Finally, he said, "Anna told me to talk to you."

"I thought she might have."

Silence fell again, until Draco looked up to see Dumbledore waiting expectantly, a small, benevolent smile on his face.

"I want to go," Draco blurted.

"I see," said Dumbledore, "And where is it you want to go?"

"I want to go where you've been taking them. And—and I don't want to wait. I want to go tonight."

Dumbledore considered him for a moment, much as Anna had earlier. "Very well," he said.

"What, that's it?" Draco said, "Even though I'm…one of them?"

"Are you?"

Draco clenched his jaw and said nothing.

"My dear boy," the old man said, "The only possible result of taking an eye for an eye is the whole world going blind. If you truly wish to go, climb to the top of the Astronomy tower at six o'clock."

Draco nodded. That evening, when his stomach rumbled, he ignored his hunger, and while everyone else filed into the Great Hall, Draco Malfoy sped up the staircase to the top of the Astronomy tower as fast as he could.

"Good, Fred," said a hushed, familiar voice, "you take young Christopher. Miss Nithercott, you go with George. And good flying, Weasleys. I'll meet you off the grounds in a moment; Dumbledore said there might be a third to go tonight."

Draco stepped apprehensively into the early moonlight. He caught a glimpse of Fred and George Weasley flying away on broomsticks, each with a young student in Hogwarts robes behind them. He cleared his throat softly.

Professor McGonagall turned and looked incredulously at him. If Minerva McGonagall was surprised, she hid it well. "Well, Mr. Malfoy," she said, gesturing to a broomstick hovering beside her, "As the twins would say, hop on."

He climbed awkwardly onto the broom behind her. "I'd hold on if I were you," she said, "We're not going on an afternoon stroll."

Draco linked his arms around Professor McGonagall's waist, and before he could truly feel awkward about it, they were streaking through the air at a dizzying pace, to land just outside the Hogwarts grounds, on the far side of the Forbidden Forest.

"What's he doing here?" said Fred when they landed. He looked strange. Draco realized that he and his brother both had their brooms strapped to their backs.

"The same thing as you and I, one presumes," Professor McGonagall told him, taking Draco's hand. He noticed that she, too, had strapped her broom to her back. She offered her other hand to George—or Fred. He'd never paid enough attention to learn to tell them apart. They were always just Fred and George to him. "Come on."

George linked hands with a small Ravenclaw boy, who in turn took a little Hufflepuff girl's hand, while she reached for Fred.

Fred's free hand was clenching and un-clenching, and everyone was looking at him expectantly.

"At your convenience, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said pointedly. Fred held out his hand to Draco. Draco took it.

"One," said professor McGonagall, "Two. Three."

Draco felt a sharp tug in the back of his sinuses and his stomach churned as their circle started spinning and spinning and then just as suddenly stopped. When he opened his eyes, Professor McGonagall was staring down at him as he lay on his back on soft grass. The sound of running water reached his ears. Slowly, he sat up, realizing he was in a valley surrounded by mountains of stone. More immediately, there were ornate fountains and garden paths twisting around him.

McGonagall cleared her throat and nodded towards something behind him. He was dimly aware that Fred and George Weasley were helping their passengers up off the grass, and he heard the two first-years gasp and squeal with delight. Draco scrambled around as best he could without vomiting, and gasped.

"Welcome, Mr. Malfoy, to Beauxbatons."