Summary: Two polar opposites. Two eternal rivals. Twenty years into the past. Harry Potter is locked in a deadly duel to survive with his fiercest rival, one Draco Malfoy. A freak accident or a coincidence sends them hurtling back in time. MWPP
Disclaimer: Any characters you don't recognize are most probably of my own invention, but everything else belongs to JK Rowling.
They were essentially dueling for their lives. They were perhaps Death Eater children, but faced with expulsion can bring forth impulsive reactions from the most level-headed of students.
Draco Malfoy had made a deadly mistake. He had painted a fake Dark Mark on his arm and dressed in mock Death Eater robes, and had accidentally on purpose shown them to his hated rival, one Harry James Potter. He'd never anticipated the uproar over such a joke, even when he had shown them that it was a simple fake tattoo. To the Ministry, at least, that warranted expulsion, including his accomplices that had joined on his little joke. Crabbe, and Goyle, and Theodore Nott.
So the four of them had run, not waiting to be escorted to the ministry and questioned under Veritaserum. They had sprinted across the dark grounds, using the cover of darkness as their secrecy cloak, showering increasingly dark spells over their shoulders.
Crabbe and Goyle had already fallen. Theodore followed soon after.
Draco was the only one left, his white blond hair glowing in the moonlight, his eyes narrowed in hatred for the one person that stood between him and freedom.
The dark-haired boy had no expression on his face. He simply stood, his wand held at his side, his emerald eyes boring into Draco's as the silvery blond slowed to a halt in front of him. He was silent.
"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy snarled, his wand pointed with deadly accuracy on his opponent, the one thing that stood directly in the nearly closed gates, effectively creating a block. Harry was silent, simply watching him, still as a stone. Malfoy felt a fluttering of fear in his chest, and ruthlessly squashed it.
He took a breath to utter a curse.
And Harry came to life.
Spells were cast so fast that neither boy could comprehend, both nearly equal in skill, with Malfoy's knowledge of spells, and Harry's formidable power and lightning fast reflexes.
Harry started to draw ahead though, his slight, well muscled body, as tall as Malfoy, but more slender than him, giving him the upper hand, his muscles rippling under his school robes. His endurance surpassed Malfoy's own, and slowly, ever so slowly, Malfoy's spells weakened, and Harry's grew impossibly stronger. Malfoy's movements began to slow, and Harry seemingly increased his speed, his movements flowing and confident.
It was then that Malfoy realized just how deadly Harry Potter was. Malfoy's dueling skills surpassed his own father's by far.
His exhaustion was catching up to him, he couldn't keep it up much longer. Drawing in one last, fury-filled gasp, Malfoy released his newest, most dangerous spell.
"Sonnnorgamouss." He shouted, but his pronunciation was wrong. And his aim was off.
The spell, a paler shade than the deep lavender it was supposed to be, hit, not Harry himself, but Harry's incoming spell. There was a terrific boom, and a dome of magic burst into existence, surrounding the two boys, one with black hair, one with silvery blond, in a space filled with raging, whipping wind.
Malfoy's hair, already disheveled from his desperate run, gave one last futile effort at staying in place, before whipping around his head in silvery strands. He ducked, his arms coming up to shield his eyes from the wind. Harry stood immobile, his wand outstretched, his head held high and his back straight. His school robes whipped around him, curling around his slender, youthful frame, and his hair, longer than it had ever been before, whipped around his head in silky black locks.
His eyes, a bright, haunting emerald green, were wide with comprehension, and his lips, devoid of blood and color, began to move...in one last dangerous, desperate ploy to guide the raging, terrifying magic storm from it's intended place. His voice couldn't be heard over the wind as he began to chant, his hair and robes whipping, his body still and solid, his eyes focused entirely on something only he could see.
"...of my last words to tell, welcome to the Thirteenth Hell..."
Silver eyes wide with fright, Draco Malfoy opened his mouth and let loose one fear filled, child-like cry, and with a thunderous, echoing boom, the dome of magic collapsed in on itself, shaking Hogwarts' foundations where they stood.
Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were gone.
When Harry lifted his head, his first thought was that it hadn't worked, and that the sinister magic born of two failed spells had gotten it's way and deposited them in a place of eternal pain.
Around him, as far as the eye could see, was a bright, never-ending expanse of white, with no discernable walls, floor, or ceiling.
In fact, the only disruption in the great expanse of white was another figure, dressed almost identically as Harry himself but with the silver and green of Slytherin. Malfoy was disheveled, his hair sticking up all over the place and his robes hanging askew.
When Harry took a harder look around, he opened his other senses to discern where they were, and almost collapsed in relief. They had made it.
He rolled onto his back in his windswept, dirtied robes, and almost cried in relief. For a moment there...but no, he'd made it.
"Potter?" A soft voice came from the other boy. "Where are we?" Harry sat up with a soft laugh, his hair falling into his eyes.
"Malfoy..." He said, amusement lacing his tone. "Welcome to the Thirteenth Hell."