Summery: One-Shot! (I think). He has been pushed too far and he will pay them back the pain he has felt tenfold.
Join him for a moment as he walks down his path.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (although I'm pretty vague in this fic and I'm not sure if you could really identify it as a Harry Potter fic if it wasn't in this category); it belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Author Note: Hello there. Well this is my first attempt at writing fan fiction, so I'd appreciate comments and suggestions, but no outright flames please (I know it's short); and if you notice some errors, Grammatical or Punctuation, please let me know. I wrote this little story a few weeks ago and I wasn't sure if I should post it or not, but I got tired of it just sitting on my hard drive.
Here ya go, I hope you enjoy it.
Oh, and I'd like to hear who you think I'm talking about: The main character, his friends, and his beloved. I love seeing the difference in opinions.
Edit: This has nowbeen Beta-read by FlyingPixie! She's helped quite a bit and I thank her for helping me out with this little story.
Someone at the Door
It was raining. Isn't it odd that it always seems to be raining on days like these? Could it be that nature knows the rain will be needed to wash the ground? To cleanse it? No matter; now isn't the time to ponder the sentience of Mother Nature. No, what matters at this point in time is the man walking down a shrub-ridden dirt road many miles from civilization.
The road was hidden from sight, overgrown with trees, shrubs, and all matter of flora, in an attempt to keep wondering beings from discovering it and seeing where it went. The man was paying no mind to the rain; if one were to look at him closely, one would wonder whether or not he even noticed it. His appearance was very somber, a reflection of the turmoil that was his mind. At first glance his clothes appeared to be one long piece, but upon closer inspection they were actually split into two sections to allow greater range of movement. His face and arms (the only skin visible) were covered with many small cuts and a few burns. His hair was slightly matted, with some blood trickling down the back of his neck. There was also some blood flowing down the side of his face in a small stream coming from his ear; and he had a minor cut by his eye that made it appear as if he was crying crimson tears. His clothes were black with patches that were even darker, and torn in a few places; all of this evidence of the trials he had already faced on this damnable path to 'destiny'.
When had he given in and decided to walk this path? That was easy; he hadn't decided on it, the decision had been made for him. He had always known he would windup here at some point; he just wished that he had been given the decision. He wished that he had been given the choice to find another path that would have been easier, one that would have been better for all involved.
But no, the choice had been stripped from him, his hand had been forced and he would follow it through. To the very end.
Thinking about how had come to this path made anger swell up within him. The branches on the trees suddenly started whipping all around him, regardless of the wind; the bark started to creak and splinter, the cuts on his face and arms mended in an instant, the burns disappeared, and the clouds above started to swirl. He clenched his hands and he had to use all of his willpower to hold himself together. Now wasn't the time; he had to hold it… to Save it.
Calming himself, he started going over what exactly he was going to do. He realized with a start, he didn't care about what he was going to do, or rather, how he was going to do it. He knew what needed to be done, and that was it, nothing else mattered as long as it was done. If someone didn't like it, too bad for them. They just needed to stay out of his way.
He thought back with something akin to longing about how he used to be; what would his friends think of him? Then again, they couldn't really tell him now could they? But still… He was turning into what he always feared was possible; he was turning into something that was worse than his enemy.
His enemies at least believed in something: their goal wasn't to kill everything. Their goal was to make their own 'perfect' world, it was in their quest to achieve that goal that the horrible deeds they have had committed took place. He… he was going to commit them just to commit them; not for some higher purpose, not because it was the 'right' thing to do, 'right' was simply a matter of perspective; he wanted them to feel pain… and eventually death.
He sighed; he was actually looking forward to getting to the end of this path so he could start in on them sooner.
His thoughts turned to his beloved. How could he have failed so miserably? He had done what he thought was his best to keep his beloved safe. But it hadn't been enough; it wasn't for his friends either. He could feel himself start to boil in fury. How dare they? Who were they to decide who gets the right to live and die? Well… he was going to take care of that; they would never be able to decide that again, and in the end, they would pray they never did; he would make sure of that.
He suddenly stopped. Why was he walking? He could now see his destination in the distance, and he had the power inside him.
An evil smile spread across his face, and with a thought he was suddenly standing in front of the large black doors. He lifted the ornamentally carved knocker and let it bang the door three times.
Someone was at the door.
The End…?
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