The Vestigials

by: Ichigogalaxy

Summary:

Ron is sent to an abandoned warehouse to respond to disturbances, only to get there and find Draco Malfoy, bloody, naked and surrounded by dead people. In comes Healer Harry, assigned to help him and figure out why Draco Malfoy has shown up in St. Mungo's after he was supposed to be dead.

Notes:

Hello there, everyone! This is a story that I wrote for the Bottom!Draco 2015:Transformations fest on LiveJournal and AO3, which you can all check out! There are also many other great authors and artist that contributed so be sure to check it out! I am going to post it chapter by chapter every week, so it won't be here all at once. There are nine chapters in all. I hope you all enjoy! Now I'm off to finish my other story...

Beta: Snowgall on LJ

Chapter 1

Vestigial Genes – Genes that have been left over and are now considered useless. These genes have direct ties to the origin of a species and their ancestors, but are now considered useless.

What is the origin of Wizards? Is there a way to tap into the being or entity that gave them their magic? Which of them have the closest ties to their ancestors? Who among them has the purest magical blood?

There is blood. He can feel it hot and slick on his skin, slowly drying to dust, and he could not be any happier. The ebbing of life around him is startling to the soaring of his heart, beating loud and strong, pulsing at his temples and throbbing in his neck. He looks around himself, at all of the bodies of those that he had wanted to kill for a very, very long time and feels nothing but joy.

It is done.

He smiles as he sinks to the floor, knees splashing in the blood-soaked concrete, weak from all of the incredible magic he performed. The feeling of accomplishment should not be so important to him, considering what he has done. He has never believed himself capable of such a thing, but these people are the reason that he can do it now. He looks around in the austere darkness veiling his surroundings, the eerie quiet the only presence to keep him company.

He is free.

His breath quickens and he tilts his head back, his hair tickles his bare skin and graces the filthy floor. He is free. Trying to stand is a mistake, he can only manage a weak crawl on all fours. His arms shake and strain to hold him up and his body does not want to cooperate with his wishes. But he has to keep going. It is time for them to realize that they have awakened something within him that was never meant to be messed with, never meant to be touched or tampered with. They raped his mind, forced their way inside him and turned him completely inside out, exposing his very soul to their greedy hands.

Draco laughs silently, until his lungs are straining and he is gasping and soon short of breath. His father has been right all along about their heritage and power, and look at where that got them. It is no matter. He is more than willing to use his power against them. The magic that is coursing through him has been with him and his family since the dawn of Wizards. Whether it is active or dormant has always been a nonissue. Pureblood families have consistently prided themselves on their lineage, and the Malfoys are no different. And those people have stripped him bare, exposing flesh never meant to see the light of day.

His vision fades as rage eats his mind and chews at his heart. They will pay, he thinks as his lips twist into a nasty smile. If that is the last thing that he ever does, he will die knowing they got what they deserved. He is only partially aware of falling to the floor, the grit grinding into his soft cheek, red staining his pale skin. His revenge is clear in his mind as his body succumbs to exhaustion. Oh, yes, they will most certainly pay.

0~0~0

Ron walks quickly through the halls to the Head Auror's office, absently nodding at people he passes. It is rare that he is pulled in to work on his day off, but he knows that Roberts wouldn't do this to him if it wasn't important. He is still slightly irritated that he couldn't get anyone else to do whatever this is, though. It's not like there isn't an entire fleet of Aurors to choose from. He knocks briefly on the heavy mahogany door. He hears a faint 'enter' and steps inside. Roberts is frowning down at a file, his glasses so low on his nose they look ready to slide off of his face. He is still reading as Ron stands there waiting for him to say something.

"Sir?"

Roberts jerks in his seat and pushes his glasses back up his face.

"Ah, yes, Ron. Shut the door, if you please. I need to talk to you."

Ron frowns as he closes the door and settles into the deep cushioned chair in front of the rather large desk. He watches as Roberts sets the papers down and leans back into his own chair, looking at him thoughtfully.

"Ron, when are you going to apply for the Head Auror position?"

He is taken aback at the softness in his voice. This is definitely not what he expected to be asked, but he smiles easily enough.

"As soon as you stop working so hard, we both know that you're not ready to retire just yet."

Roberts smirks, "That may be, but we're both not getting any younger. And I know you've been eyeing this seat ever since we put you in the Aurors." Ron chuckles. He knows that he should apply for the position, but he and Hermione are thinking of starting a family. They just aren't sure if he should wait until after or just get on with it so he will have stability. But that is not what he came here on his day off to talk about.

"Sir, you know there's more to it than that. But what was so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

Roberts clears his throat, "Straight to business as always." He slides the report over to Ron to look over as he speaks. "Well, there have been some strange reports by Muggles in an old industrial district south of London. Strange lights and sounds don't even begin to cover it. There are reports ranging from weird vibrations in the ground to the weather in the area changing in the blink of an eye." Ron looks up sharply.

"The weather?" Ron asks.

"Yes, and all of this has been called in to the local police, but the nature of the eyewitness accounts naturally drew our attention. And this is not the first time that it has been brought to our attention, but it is the first time it has been brought to mine. Whatever is going on needs to be dealt with, or there may be a risk of exposure. I need you to take a team and check out the area by tonight. Also interview any Muggles that live in the nearby residential areas and have Obliviators on hand just to be safe."

Ron nods as he reads the report more carefully. It is indeed strange and he personally would not leave it to an inexperienced Auror, especially since Muggles are involved in such a large area.

"Ron?"

He looks up, "Yes, I will be out as soon as I get my team assembled." He stands and inclines his head before leaving the office, he has a lot to get done before they can even leave the Ministry. But he is ready. It is rare for such a serious situation to develop for this long without it getting the attention of the Aurors at some point. Ron knows that that is very strange and shakes his head as he heads to his office.

0~0~0

Later that night, he and six of their best Aurors, including his partner Michael Rhys, stand a ways back from an old abandoned warehouse. There is broken glass and debris all over the grounds, even as far back as the measly weeds growing in the cracks where they are standing. The gaping windows in the decrepit structure are darker than the surrounding night, like peering down the throat of a great open maw. Dead leaves scratching the hard concrete ground is the only sound to break the creepy silence, save for their quiet breathing. It feels like they are the only living things out there. This place seems like it has not seen life for some time; it makes Ron wonder if they actually got the right location. But he knows it is and motions for everyone to move in.

They carefully examine their surroundings as they slowly get closer to the building, but they are alone. There are no sounds or any signs of activity in the area. He suspects that it had been magically protected at one time, but not as thoroughly as it should have been. There is no presence of magic now.

Most of the entrances are sealed shut - great loading dock doors are what they see first - but the rust makes them impossible to open without making a hell of a lot of noise. Ron leads the way as he looks for a more practical way inside. He comes across a regular-sized door and gives it a push but it doesn't budge.

"Alohomora," he whispers quietly. The door opens a fraction with a small click. Ron lets out a breath of relief and pushes it all the way open. The resulting groan and painfully loud squealing of the old hinges causes Ron to cringe as he waits for the sound to finish reverberating through the building. Fuck. If no one knew they were there before, they sure do now. They all brace for the ambush, but it never comes. Ron and his team cautiously tip-toe through the door even though they all have silencing charms on everything from their shoes to their rustling robes.

They spread out and search the building, looking in every hole, nook and cranny. They find nothing. Ron begins to get irritated; just what the hell is going on here? The witness reports weren't very detailed since they came from observations at a distance. He isn't even sure what he should be looking for. He crouches low to the ground in some places and reaches high in others. Nothing. Just when he is about to go up to the other floors to see if anyone else has had better luck, he sees another door that he did not notice before. He frowns as he walks up to it. Was it spelled? He waves his wand and nods. There is a notice-me-not spell on it, which is more effective for Muggles, but a wizard will notice whatever is being hidden eventually. That tells Ron that wizards aren't really expected to just come across this building randomly, which he wholly agrees with. He casts a Finite and summons his team over. When the six of them are reunited, he opens the door, it thankfully not making the horrid sound the first door did.

"Ugh!" he hears Michael say. Ron understands as he covers his nose. The stench wafting from the lower level is that of blood and death, still fresh. The metallic tang makes him want to gag, but he swallows past it and hurries down the stairs. When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he has to strengthen his Lumos. They fan out, but really all they need to do is follow the smell. The underground space is vast, but they cannot make out many details in the darkness. Ron has a sense that it is not empty. There are indistinguishable shapes that when he comes closer, look like some sort of contraption that is impossible to determine the function of without proper lighting. Even then, he is pretty sure he will still not know.

He takes a few steps in an undetermined direction and almost trips over something. It is soft yet unyielding and Ron knows what it is before he lowers his wand. A body. But more than that, a body that is almost mutilated. He can hear gasps from the other Aurors and knows that they have made similar discoveries. He squats down, careful not to get too close or accidentally touch it again. It is a woman, he notes. Her long and curly black hair is matted and wild around her head. She is wearing a lab coat and Muggle clothes underneath. There are deep gashes across her front, like someone went wild with a knife and carved her up like a Christmas turkey. Her clothes are shredded and stained. Her arms are wide to either side. She was likely dead before she hit the ground, Ron notes grimly. Her death saddens him, even though he does not know why or exactly how she died, any death is a waste of life to him.

He brings his wand closer to her face; she was very pretty. Her very light brown skin reflects a youth that surprises him. She couldn't have been older that twenty-three, same age as him. Now her skin has taken on a deathly shade, the texture resembling badly molded clay. He begins a more thorough exam when he hears one of his team - Jackson, he remembers - call out.

"Sir, this one's alive!"

Ron and the others go to him and stop where Jackson is standing, several feet away from the person on the floor. There is a stench of magic pulsing off of him that makes him physically recoil, but he fights it. It is powerful and for a wild moment it reminds him of Harry. He remembers when Harry was getting stronger when they were on the run during the war and the power had made him jealous at first, but he quickly got over it. The power from this person is very different, but just as potent. He takes slow, deliberate steps forward, waiting for any sudden movements. When he is close enough, he casts a simple medical scan that all Aurors are trained in knowing. He finds no immediate damage. There are no bleeding flesh wounds or internal injuries that would make it dangerous for them to move him without a Healer on hand.

The person is naked. They have hair that is long and white which covers most of their body except for the long, pale legs. He slowly and carefully turns the person over, and it becomes clear that this person is male. He weighs surprisingly little, and looking at the long limbs, lighter than someone his height should be. He is warmer than Ron thought he would be considering he had no clothes on. But the blood - there is blood everywhere, coloring the man's skin like some sort of morbid child's hand painting. He performs another check to be doubly sure there are no physical injuries and comes up with the same result. He will still have to take him to St. Mungo's because whatever is wrong with him, it is out of the scope of his meager healing spells. He addresses his team, who still have not moved any closer as he further checks the man.

"Michael, I need you to send a Patronus for Roberts to send the forensics team over. We need to get IDs on all of these people and figure out what the hell went on here. Then we need to get this person to St. Mungo's before any -"

He stops. For some reason, he has a bad habit of looking at the face last. It is like he dreads knowing who is hurt or dead and waits until he can no longer avoid identifying the person. He was not expecting to know this man, but the face is undeniably one he knows all too well. He stares, quite unable to put the pieces together. Why is he here? How is he here? He is supposed to be long dead, killed right after the war when the Aurors went on their manhunt for runaway Death Eaters. There is even a file on him, obituary and all, at the Ministry; he has even read it. So how the fuck is he lying here in front of Ron, alive, unconscious, covered in blood and surrounded by dead people? What's really going on here?

"Ron, are you all right? What is it? What's wrong?"

He looks at Michael and shakes his head, still unable to believe the words he has to say.

"This," Ron points to make sure they all know who he is talking about. "This is Draco Malfoy."