An oldie.. This is a story I actually started writing back in 2002, and it took me over two years to finish. :P It's been hosted on the mpreg archive, but I recently discovered that the last chapters has gone missing from the site, and finally decided I would repost it here on my Fanfiction account.
Please keep in mind that this story is a few years old. :-)
TITLE: Whispers Through Time
AUTHOR: Restina Lovebug
FANDOM: Harry Potter/Robin Hood
MAIN CHARACTER: My favorite Potions Master, Severus Snape! :)
PAIRING: None
SUMMARY: As a reckless archaeology-student unveils a secret hidden
for centuries an old evil escapes. A wizard has to travel back in
time to prevent the world from becoming eradicated by the demon mage
Voltimore. Little does he know he's walking straight into a trap...
NOTES:
Dear Azrael: Thank you SO much for letting me have a go at your
fabolous idea! :) Without you this story would never have been
written, and withouth your help and support I would have given up
long ago. I only hope the story ends up half as good as your original
idea, and that you feel I have managed to write some of what you
foresaw when you came up with it! I thank you yet again on bended
knee for helping me keep my sanity! :)
Dear Keely Kylan: Thank you for also being a tremendous support
during the writing of this story (which I never seem to finish, the
thing has a life of its own), your neverending positive and constructive feedback
leaves a spoilt but happy Restina, giggling madly as she sits down
and continues writing. And I can't wait for your scanner to start
working again so that I can have a look at the Sheriff you're drawing
for me! :)
Dear Chienne: Thank you so much for actually voulentering to going
through my grammar and spelling. I know tweeking my preeschool
English isn't a job for the faint hearted! ;)
WARNING: This will, to say the least, be angsty, and there will be a
rape later on in the story. (I'll put a BIG warning on that chapter
for them who don't stomach it)
Whispers through time, chapter 1 Curiosity killed the cat.
~present~
Kent Hardington was a bright and skilled archaeology-student, who
dreamt of one day finding the architectural finding of the decade.
And it was thisdream and his eagerness that brought him to Nottingham
Castle, famous from the Robin Hood legends. Forget it, his
professor's said, there's nothing more to be found in that old castle
that haven't been discovered years ago! But Kent didn't nudge. He
wanted to search through the castle by himself, examine every
millimeter and every dust-bunny to be sure he didn't miss one thing.
He was a thorough young man, and he went through every room, searched
every single crack in stone or wood working his way slowly upwards
towards the towers. After six weeks he hadn't found a single thing,
and despair slowly started to creep its way inside his brain. He had
finished most of the floors now, from the dungeons and up the halls
and the many rooms, and therewere only one room and four towers left.
He went ahead with the work on the small room, half expecting nothing
would turn up here either. There was afireplace placed in the far
corner of the room, which by the way, had no windows what so ever.
This struck Kent as weird, given the fact that the left stonewall
should be facing the Sherwood Forrest. A spark of excitement lit his
mind and he started to examine the fireplace with renewed energy. He
searched every crack, looking for a secret entrance or something
showing there was a hidden room behind the fireplace. Suddenly he
stopped for a moment, as his heartbeat increased and his hands
started sweating. Beneath his fingers he could clearly feel an
outline and curve that parted from the rest of the stone. If he
wasn't very much mistaking he'd just found signs of a sealed room!!
Hardington got so excited he had trouble thinking straight. Finally
all his hard work would pay off, finally he'd found what he'd been
looking for! After scurrying around the room for a couple of minutes,
gathering his wits and fantasizing wildly about the headlines in the
newspapers he would make- he got his sledgehammer. Sure..
Sledgehammers are seldom used in the art of archaeology, but Kent had
no time for a toothbrush to do the same job. With one harsh blow to
stonewalls the sledgehammer made way into an agent room, sealed for
reasons unknown. As soon as the dust settled, Kent climbed through
the big hole his vandalism just had been responsible for. Pulse
thundering in his ears, excitement beyond anyone's imagination, he
could see a room no one had seen for over eight hundred years. It was
small and square and to Kent's disappointment seemed to contain only
one object, a familyportrait. But this was a big discovery as well,
and he curiously approached the painting with goosebumps creeping up
his neck as his excitement grew once more.
Time, dust and cobwebs had worn on the painting through time, but
Kent had no problem getting a glimpse of the people portrayed with
his flashlight. There was a man sitting on a chair, the center of
attention, a noble most definitely. He had dark hair and beard, dark
eyes and dark,middle-aged-fashioned clothes. His face showed signs of
pride, power and the spoiled look some children have. On his right
side an old woman stood, probably his mother. She had a foul
expression on her face, with what looked like an evil twitch in her
eyes and a wart on her left cheek. On the man's left a fair woman
stood, with what once had been long, reddish hair and bright green
eyes. There was the typical smile of a woman who'd just fallen madly
in love on her face. But the most odd detail with the painting was
something the man was holding in his arms. It looked like a baby's
body, probably the man's and the young woman's son or daughter, but
the baby's face was missing. It was like it had been scraped off, or
weirder- never been painted on..
"Fascinating!" Kent mumbled as he went from studying the painting and
over to the frame withholding it. It struck him that the frame seemed
somehow misplaced, like it didn't fit the painting it was
surrounding. It was a wooden frame, painted black, worn down by the
tooth of time, but there was no mistake, he could clearly see the
outline of inscribed letters, once decorated with gold. Kent frowned
as he tried to make out the letters.
"It seems to be some sort of Latin.." he muttered to him self as he
carefully brushed the dust away with a small brush he kept in his
vest pocket. He had skipped a lot of Latin-lessons in his days, and
he regretted every single one of them now. But slowly he worked his
way through the text, mumbling his narration as he went along: "A
beast kept prisoned between these four walls, your doom you're
uttering with saying these very words. I'm afraid to tell, my unlucky
soul, you're heart will beat no more." A whoosh went through the
stone-room as the last word escaped his mouth.
"What the..." Kent started, but he never finished. A cold chill went
down his spine, as every part of flesh was devoured from his body in
an instant. Kent made the newspapers, although not in the way he had
intended...
*-*
Black night, dangerously dark. The perfect hiding place for evil on
the run. Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwart's school of wizardry
awoke with a start. He felt a shift, a great trembling through the
earth- something evil had escaped, something foul and terrible with a
burning hate. He didn't know this evilness, but he recognized its
stench. A dark demon that had been locked away for centuries- and
that for a good reason. Albus had a bad feeling about this, he
definitely had.
*-*
The muggle newspapers were running over with the story about the
secret room found in Nottingham Castle. A corpse, or more precisely
the skeleton of a reckless archaeology-student who'd been a bit to
eager with his sledge had been found in front of an old family
portrait, never seen before. The find amazed archaeology's all over
the world, as this was the first preserved and only family portrait
found of the people once living in this old castle. Maybe the legend
of Robin Hood finally would be explained one way or another, once and
for all. Some of the papers flooded over with the rumors about there
being something evil kept hidden inside that room. The very same
night the young man died a most mysterious death, apparently self-
combusting like a torch, a terrible storm raged through the
countryside, leaving many broken homes, and the Loxley mausoleum,
vandalized beyond in the village where whispering
about an old evil escaping, something that had been trapped for
centuries.
No reasonable archaeologist with a minimum of brain function would of
course believe such nonsense. A simple case of many incidents, a
lightning striking the young lad maybe, and some punks fazed out on
some drug vandalizing the mausoleum. The storm was just a fact of
weather. No one stopped to bother about Kent Hardington being struck
down by lighting in a room without entrances besides a hole in the
wall...
A group of experts were chosen, solely to investigate further the old
Nottingham castle. Maybe there were other treasures hidden within
these Stonewalls. And once again the castle was searched, from
dungeon to rooftop, leaving nothing behind unsorted. Five weeks with
thorough investigation took place, nothing was found. But then, on
the first day of the sixth week- another archaeologist found signs of
a sealed room. The group was ecstatic. Who knew what was hiding
behind these walls. The villagers were afraid. There probably was
more evil waiting to escape its stone prison. Many fled their ruined
homes to be sure they wouldn't be haunted once more. Unspeakable
things where happening in the Sherwood Forrest, and no good could
come of luring more of this evilness into the daylight.
*-*
Even the replacements of the young unfortunate Mr. Hardington felt
the urge to break through the wall to get to the secret treasures as
fast as possible. But many years in the trade had taught them
patience, and they bid their time carefully so they wouldn't disturb
or destroy anything but cobwebs. Archaeology is a delicate art and
these men knew that, by breaking through with force they could end up
destroying the very thing they were looking for.
Finally, two weeks later the first glimpse of the second secret room
was reviled. They succeeded in removing one of the many stones gluing
the many castle walls together and now they with some difficulty
could look into a room no one had seen for over eight hundred years.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to claim that these grown men were
just as euphoric as the young Mr. Hardington had been when he got his
first glimpse of the hidden room he found. The temptation to break
through the walls and give a big gaze about everything that was
called etiquette and moral codes of archaeology made every single one
of the ten expert members of the specially elected team sweat on
their palms in mere impatience. Still, they managed to keep their
patience..
*-*
Far away in the precise time the archaeology's got their first
glimpse of the hidden room an old wizard having an after dinner nap
suddenly drifted into a dream. In a heartbeat he stood besides the
sweating men who were peeping through the tiny crack in the wall.
Albus watched them with great curiosity. Muggles were a fascinating
kind of folk and he never got tired of looking on their many weird
habits. But something called him on, something through this very hole
these men were trying hard to look through. Albus, knowing this was a
dream went straight through the wall. It was a room covered in dust
and untold secrets. The old man looked around noting a bed, a desk,
cupboards and in a corner by a fireplace- a crib. Could this be the
living-quarters of a nanny? No. Why would anyone try to hide a
nanny's room for all eternity? He went closer, surprised to find
chemicals... and even Astronomy equipment. This were things that
didn't belong here, not to the decade this was supposed to be from.
Some artifacts, parchments and clothes lay scattered around the floor
like someone had been plummeting through the room in a rage. Albus
picked up the remains of a black cloak. A tingling sensation of
recognition whispered somewhere in the back of his head as he lay it
carefully back down again. He wandered over to the crib. It looked
untouched, like it had never been used, but was just about to when
faith had decided different and left it unused for all the future. A
strange sensation dragged him towards the desk again and he found
himself pulling out one of the desk drawers. There, practically
unsoiled by time a small charcoal portrait caught his attention.
No... it couldn't be! The face, so familiar! Together with the cloak,
the chemicals, the Astronomy equipment.. and not to mention the crib!
Albus Dumbledore stood aghast, not believing his very eyes. For once
he prayed his sight had betrayed him, but he looked at the drawing
once more, knowing he would have to change a man's life forever.
*-*
A sensation! The archaeologist's had no words to describe the
findings they had done. The room and its contents were practically
unharmed, and what secrets it contained! They were over themselves
with praise over what they believed had to be the finding of the
decade! They had found objects that wasn't even supposed to be there,
star-maps that shouldn't have been drawn before tree hundred years
later, chemistry equipment and chemicals that was invented many years
later and even Astronomy- equipment no one could explain how got
there. But a carbon testing showed that everything the room contained
was over eight hundred years old, that this was an authentic find
which no one had been trampling with. And in the desk drawer a
charcoal portrait of an unknown but striking Saxon, caught everyone's
attention. He had a very distinct being shining through even this old
paper. The drawing was drawn in the same style as a certain famous
portrait, of the Mona man also had that posture. His eyes
seemed distant, maybe it was hundreds of years old chalk that did it,
but the most striking detail with this picture was not the man's
face.. but his stomach. The easiest way to describe it would be to
resemble it with a woman's stomach, heavy with child. And the way the
man had his arm wrapped around his belly, as if he was protecting it
from something made all archaeologists think of their wives when they
were pregnant. This was what they looked like. Many questions arose
around this man. Who was the secret guest, how come he Was in
position of objects not even invented in the time he would have
lived in, why was his room to be sealed up for all eternity? And what
about the old legends of Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham?
Was there more to them than just a story?
Especially one of the ensemble of great brains and dust busters, a
Mr. Norman Wellington, got especially fascinated by the possible
connection between the findings and the legend. Could it possibly be
the Sheriff of Nottingham portrayed on the family portrait, and the
fair maiden- could that be Maid Marion? But that didn't make sense
with the legend- Marion wed Robin of Loxley, not the Sheriff, or at
least according to the stories. Could it be possible Robin never got
to break off the wedding and the Sheriff actually got to wed Marion?
The baby on the painting would therefore be the so desperately needed
child the Sheriff wanted, so he could claim the throne. Maybe a soft
heart many centuries ago decided this end of the saga was too sad an
ending and changed it? And where did the mystery guest fit in the
picture? It was easy to see that the man had a striking resemblance
with the man on the portrait, but this man had no beard and his hair
was shorter and arranged differently. And his expression didn't look
close to the nobleman's. The aura of power and childish spoil had no
traces in this man's face. This man had a look of no fear on his
face, a chillingly cold appearance looking like it was pasted on to
hide different feelings. And his eyes... somehow Norman Wellington
got sad just looking at them. Somehow the charcoal drawing seemed to
have captured an enormous loneliness.
Sure anybody could point out the obvious similarities between the two
and claim they were the one and same person, but Norman didn't think
so. It was two different persons captured in time by one or two
skilled artists. Maybe the stranger was the noble man's brother, but
Norman doubted it. The noble man had clothes typical for a wealthy
man in the Middle-aged, while the other of what Norman could make out
of it, had clothes that didn't fit in that time-period at all. Just
like the clothes they had found in the secret chamber. It was like..
this man had dropped in on a visit...from the future..
*-*
Albus Dumbledore was in a grave mood. He'd just heard the reports
from the Sherwood Forrest and they were not good. Indeed there was a
Demon Mage on the loose, and that wasn't even the worst of it. For
this demon had a name. A foul, death-bringing name that had been
whispered on the lips of terrified mortals some eight-nine hundred
years ago. Voltimore. The essence of pure evil, the demon form of a
wizard that terrorized the world in the beginning of time,
Voldemort's forefather. Albus slammed a stunned hand down into his
work desk, too grieved by this news to think of any more constructive
manner to react. He remembered his dream a couple of days ago only
too well. He had hoped for the longest that he wouldn't have to do
what he'd guessed back then, but now it seemed damn well impossible.
He would have to send an unknowing man back in time to do his
bidding..
*-*
~past~
Muggle history and romantic legends are all founded on some
truths...no matter how hidden that truth may be. And everyone knew
the legend of The Robin of The Hood. The fight between good and bad,
how light and justice prevailed. But the real stories' are never
that simple. Things get forgotten through history, details that
don't fit in or don't seem suitable to tell small children, or grown
ups as well, is left out. The legend ends but a shadow of the true
story, and that is in many cases just as well. For the truth can be
scaring and not to say the least, sad...
Up in the tower of a castle beside the Sherwood Forrest centuries ago
a dark, an ageing witch was visited by a dark guest. This witch was
the Sheriff's mother. She'd been scrying for months, trying to find
out various paths for her son to gain the crown. Having already
bewitched a noble lord, married him and produced an heir some 35
years earlier. Oh, she was proud of her son! Tall, dark and cultured
to a great extent he was, sane he wasn't. The blood of the witch was
cursed and like all her family he inherited a dual personality,
childlike arrogant spoilt and violent even for a feudal lord. The
flip-side, a dutiful son of an aged and often infirm mother, he was
the last of an old and noble bloodline, a learned man of books and
arcane law, trusted servant of the crown. She would do anything to
secure her son's future, anything.
The easiest way to secure his path to the throne was for him to marry
someone with royal blood and produce an heir. Here the old witch had
picked the perfect specimen years ago, namely the sweet maiden
Marion. But there was one problem. Since her son was kicked in a
strategic place in his youth he could no longer produce any
offspring. And sadly he needed to be the father of a child with royal
blood to claim the throne. Sure he could marry her, but there was a
law specifying that an heir would have to be produced the first two
years of their marriage, this to secure the line of Kings. And with
no more action in some of his lower regions he would have a serious
problem when the two years had passed.
*-*
At this late night there was something out on the search. It had a
name feared by mortals and it left only destruction in its path. It
had a great desire and a great need. It wanted to take human form
again. To do this it needed an agent artifact, which had been passed
from generation to the next for centuries. The only problem was that
one couldn't TAKE this artifact from whom which it belonged, it had
to be given to you. But as he arrived his destination place Voltimore
couldn't believe his luck. He felt the need and greed the old witch
harvested and knew it would be the easiest thing in the world to have
her giving the artifact to him. It amused him she wasn't scared as he
entered her chamber. She looked like she was disturbed in an
important task and wanted to throw the dark shadow out the room.
"What do you want!" there was no trace of fear on her face, and the
Demon started to feel a bit agitated. She could at least show him
some respect, the old hack!
"Show me the respect I deserve and demand, and I may provide you with
the offer of your lifetime!" he roared and made all the objects in
the room, including the old witch fly scrambling into the wall. Yes,
there was the right look! If the Demon could have smiled he would.
Instead he settled for a subtle neigh. "I think I've got your
attention, good! Now I can offer my services to you, in exchange of
the proper payment of course.."
"And what services is it that you may offer, my Dark Lord?" The old
woman made some sort of bow and approached him cautiously.
"I can help you provide the heir that will secure your son's right
place as king." The expression on the witch' face went from fright to
pure joy:
"My Lord, are you telling the truth? If you can grant this old dying
witch her last wish I would give you anything in return!"
"Oh, the price is but mere pocket-change, my fair Lady!" the dark
shadow exclaimed while he sniggered silently: "All I want in exchange
is a small worthless stone inherited down generations of your family.
The old witch' hand absentmindedly rested on her chest where she
carried an ornament she'd inherited from her mother. It was a
cherished belonging to her as this was the only thing her mother left
her before being burnt on the stake for witchcraft. It was a simple
silver chain with some sort of rock attached to it, not pretty in any
terms of beauty, but dear just the same. But this would secure her
dear son the future she wished for with all her heart.
"And how is it precisely you're going to produce this heir?" she
asked suspiciously. "My son don't have the ability to produce any
offspring by him self."
"You're right," the shifting shadow answered: "and that's why I've
found you a direct descendant matching your son's flesh almost to the
full." The witch thought about this for a minute.
"But that still don't help with the Maiden Marion and my son wedding
her," she argued.
"Well, that's the genius of this plan! You see, I can make sure your
offspring is born, and that the fair Marion is the mother without
even having her touching the man fathering your son's heir. Sure it's
a bit intricate, but I assure you it will work!"
"And how are you supposed to put this man's semen into her womb?" the
witch continued.
"Who said anything about impregnating HER?!" the demon answered
curtly. The old witch looked like a question mark.
"I said I would provide a man who is a direct descendant of your
bloodline, didn't I? And this man will also carry forth the very
offspring that your son is in need of. When the child is born a
simple blood scan will assure Marion is the mother, and she will have
no choice but to marry your son even spite the fact that she has not
carried this child to term. The facts don't lie and even when she
denies all knowledge of this child she will have to obey the laws
stating she will have to marry the father unless she wants the child,
and her self most importantly, to become outcasts. The child's father
in this matter will be the stranger. But he will be such a close
match to your son a blood scan will state him to be the father."
Tears actually appeared in the old witch' eyes. Finally the solution
she'd been waiting for, offered to her by this... dark demon in
exchange for a simple stone. There were only two more questions to be
answered before she gave her answer:
"Who is this man, and how are you to get him here, through time?"
"The time travel will be simple," the demon answered: "And his name
is.. Severus Snape."
*-*
The Demon Mage instructed the old witch of what she would do.
Voltimore knew that this Snape was a powerful wizard and alchemist in
the future and that he would be more than happy to get his hands on
the artifact that could threaten the course of the world if Voltimore
got his hands on it first. It was a pleasant thing, being able to
look into the future, but the skill was cursed with the fact that he
could not determine his own future or faith. Therefore Voltimore had
no idea that some eight hundred years later he would escape
prisonment, and that the wizard society would search for the very
stone he was so much in need of. The other curse that cramped his
style was the fact that he wasn't capable of time travels himself.
Therefore he had to use this old woman's lust for her son achieving
the throne to secure the stone he so desperately needed. She had to
contact the wizard through a dream, offering him the artifact in
exchange for knowledge of the Dark Arts of Magic. If he did her
bidding for one month, teaching her potions and curses, to show her
the future and train her son in the arts of statesmanship restraint
and deception, the artifact the demon desired would be given to him
and him alone. Or at least, that was what he would think..
From the moment the man stepped through the time-barrier he would be
cursed with Voltimore's curse that would leave him weakened
and ...pregnant with the unknowing Marion's child. By the time he
realized he had been lured into a trap it would be too late. Now the
witch was old, but she was not stupid. When she accepted this deal
she also made it perfectly clear that she would not give the artifact
away before the child, a boy, was born and her son's future was
ensured. Voltimore accepted the terms, after all he had learned the
skill of patience the last hundred years and so he would go into
hiding again after he'd marked the unfortunate man with the curse.
This was a skilled man in the Dark Arts and Voltimore knew he had to
make some adjustments to him as he passed the time portal. He didn't
want any slip-ups this time!