Chosen One
By mnemea
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot.
Pairings: none.
Rating: PG
Summary: AU. A dying race is in need of hero. But the Chosen One was not their choice. In every generation a legend is born. Will Harry accept his destiny?
AN: This chapter is part of a new revised version of the earlier story I started ages ago. Lately I got really bored waiting for fanfic updates so I decided to continue on with this story.
Please forgive any small errors or discrepancies that may have resulted from miscommunication between myself and my beta Metzy (who helps me around the edges when my English needs a little tweaking). Sometimes my vision and her edits don't quite meet in the middle.
Metzy is working through the earlier chapters of this story and should catch-up to the newer chapters soon, so bare with us.
Please note only Prologue and chapter 4 are beta, please wait if you don't want to read bad grammars.
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Prologue:
The forest is silent, gloomy and dark; as it has been for the past thousand years. Few live who remember the good times. The time when things were not as they are now. The bright times. The Golden Age.
Rarely do people leave their homes these days, and none dare venture into the forest anymore; for the forest is not safe night or day. Tonight however, an unusual event is happening as three lonely figures stand guard over a lone man lying gently on the ground.
The man is barely breathing, and with a rasp struggles with the final words of the ritual.
Scattered on the ground surrounding him is a fine powder, almost like the dust of a thousand gemstones, gently pulsing with a rainbow heartbeat. The colours grow brighter and brighter with every seconds that passes.
"It is…done!"
His whisper is barely heard and with it the guards immediately drop from their razor sharp stances and hover over the man; each lending him silent comfort in this his final hour.
The man grasps the hand of the guard kneeing to his right, and raises his clear sapphire eyes to gently smile at the man showing an obvious gentle fondness.
"I am ready for my next adventure, Santh" he breathed
Santh nods as his own grey eyes lock with sapphire. With his free hand he tears a small lock of his own silver mane and pressed it into his friend's hand. The old custom, though rarely seen in the last hundred years, expresses all it needs too to the dying man.
Santh squeezes his hand over that of the man and mumbles, "Take it and wherever you go old friend, and my spirit will fly with you."
Santh turned his ethereal face away, not wanting his pain to be seen by the other. He can feel his friend's body weakening and his life-force slipping away. He casts a glance around the group assembled with him, 'It is hard for them to lose their leader' he sighs, but for himself he was losing the much rarer and valuable treasure; his lifelong companion and friend.
The silence was eerily as the men, the forest and indeed the land, grew silent straining to hear their leader's final words.
His sapphire eyes flew open as the vision came upon him. "Promise me! You'll protect them", his eyes searching out for Santh's.
The youngest of the party answered as if by instinct, "Of course My Lord!" As if in disbelief he added, "How could any deny your will My Lord?"
A small cough hid the chuckle that escaped from the dying man. A moment later his voice became serious and was edged with command, founded from his fears held for the future he had seen.
"I have had a vision", his tone ominous. "My chosen one is alone in the world; as a shadow among the living", he paused. "They bear burdens that could easily overcome... so much pain", his voice was harsh as it broke. "Without a wise and strong guide they will break and all will be lost.
"You worry too much, old friend", Snath soothed, "Rest now". He had heard the stress in his friend's voice and was eager to provide comfort in his final moments.
"Promise m…"
The words died on his lips, his hand slipping from Santh's
A crack rang out, "Alatoriel!"
Pained voices echoed through the forest ripping it from its slumber. The grief carried across the lands, and the oceans; a howling sweeping over man and beast alike. All life held frozen as the world mourned for its child. Tonight an Elder had been lost to them.
Back in the forest, a light appeared from the prone body, as if from his heart. It bloomed growing ever brighter until it seemed to consume the body completely. After a moment, it began to recede taking the physical form with it.
Although a strange rarely seen occurrence, the three men's faces were stricken with grief rather than shock, confirming that this had been expected. The red orb chased around them for a minute or so, as if to say a final goodbye, before flying off like a shooting star across the night sky.
The two younger men straightened and flexed their shoulders causing a bone crunching sound. As if out of nowhere, wings began to sprout and unfurl forming a seamless extension of their shoulder blades. The transformation appeared to cause no pain, lending weight to the image that it was a natural event undertaken without thought. They gave a curt not to Santh before leaping into the night to follow after the red spark.
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The story begins in proper, with a young man of barely sixteen years. There is nothing particularly notable in his outward appearance at first glance. He could not be described as a handsome youth as he was far too skinny and his height was nothing remarkable. Anyone who had known his parents would have expected at least another 4 inches taking him just shy of 5"10 by now. Alas, if it had not been for the less then healthy environment of his youth, their expectations would have been met, if not slightly exceeded.
This teen however was in fact far from ordinary in all the worst ways, confirmed by the deep seated look of sufferings that haunted his stance and peeked out from the corners of his eyes. Not many could have come through the life he had lived so far. It was definitely his eyes that held the proof. The deep set emerald windows to his soul that seemed almost permanently clouded with a resignation to his lot and lacking in any true hope of better things to come.
Today he was leaving for his private school; too early in morning for the neighbours to be notice or inspire them to pry into his life; exactly the purpose for which this early hour was chosen.
His clothes were barely threads and he wrapped his arms tightly around his torso to provide what little protection he could against the bitter early morning breeze. The teen ducked, barely managing keep from being swept out of the way by the stout man dressed in beige who swept out of the house.
The man growled, "Get in the car now!" The youth, who knew better than to argue with the man, got into the car and moved quickly into the far side of the passenger seat taking up the least amount of room he possibly could.
His window was open, the breeze ruffling his fringe allowing brief glimpses of a vivid red scar shaped like lightning that was etched into his forehead. It looked deep and ragged as if it had been carved there directly into the young man's skin. It was an unusual looking scar to be sure, but holding no special significance to those they passed on the trip. But to another world, a hidden world, a Wizarding world, the scar was a powerful earth shattering symbol. The symbol of liberation from evil. The unmistakable lightning bolt shaped trademark of one Harry Potter. Harry Potter the Boy-Who-Lived.
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Harry Potter had been trying not to smile as the car headed towards London and away from the miserable place where he was forced to live for the first full 11 years of his life, and then twice a year for agonisingly seemingly unending weeks for the next four between school terms.
Harry knew that he would pay dearly if he smiled while he was with the Dursley's. That may have been the reason why he rarely graced any but his most trusted friends and confidants with one of his rare smiles. It was also the reason that neither Harry nor few others knew how his beautiful smile would transform his face from borderline average to truly breathtaking.
The car stopped at the parking lot next to the side entrance to the station. The grumpy beige man, his uncle by marriage, sneered at Harry as if to tell him to get out. "I don't expect to be hearing from you for the rest of the year, BOY! I better not see any of those freaky owls nears my house either. Do I make myself clear?"
Harry nodded dumbly, just wanting to get to the train platform and away from his so-called family as quickly as possible. He pulled his trunk out of the car and dragged it onto the curb. He was too busy to see the blinding red light as it came hurtling out of the sky and struck his body, knocking him unconscious onto the ground.
"Damn you Boy, wake up!" his uncle shook him, "Blasted Boy wake up this instance!"
In frustration, Vernon slapped his nephew's face several times before noticing that people had gathered on the street to stare at the scene.
"I think he fainted. Is he alright?" whispers echoed around them.
Harry, suddenly awake, opened his eyes to see his uncle trying to reassure the small crowd. The teen was uncomfortable with the scene he had created and was once again embarrassed by the attention it attracted. He hated to have people staring and whispering about him, something he had blessedly been free from in the Muggle world excluding some rare exceptions such as that day at the zoo in the snake exhibit, and now today. Harry wished he could simple lay there and have the earth open up and swallow him. He briefly wondered if there is a magic for that.
Remembering where he was he summoned his courage and pulled himself up in the most dignified manner pfossible without help from either his uncle or any from the crowd of onlookers. He ignored their confused looks and murmurs as they watched him as he gathered his belonging together and left without so much as a glance back in their direction.
The entire scene was observed closely by two other sets of eyes; their owners standing lightly on an impossibly thin branch of nearby tree that could not have held their weight by any natural means. The odd pair, now with wings gracefully extended, had followed the red spark here and had witnessed as it struck down and merged into the strange youth before them.
"Impossible!" the golden one exclaimed, horror and revulsion evident in his whispered words. "A human!" he spat as his tirade continued. He was cut short by the hand of his the companion clamping down firmly against his mouth. "We may be shielded from their sight but your voice will most assuredly reveal us if you continue your rant". A moment later a portal opened and the second man dragged the first behind him, entering the rift that would take them home.
TBC...
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