Okay, first of all, the Disclaimer. I do not own a few things within this story. Things that belong to other people, being J.K Rowling, Warner Bros. Square-Enix and others, belong to them and not me. Now, I do own many characters and Ideas in here. All things not mine but not belonging to the huge conglomerates mentioned will be made note of at the time of their use
FFOmega
Part I: Bitter-Sweet Dreams
Prologue
It was very odd actually.
He had been sitting on the floor for hours and hours…just staring forward.
Yes. Very, very odd.
There were no other words to describe it.
His eyes shut, his legs crossed, his arms draped over his knees in a serene, very personalized version of modern meditation form.
But that was him. Personalizing everything to his own means.
Well, that was him recently.
It never used to be that way. It used to be that he tried to follow the rules. If it took him not following them for something to work out, so be it, but otherwise, he did his best to be completely…normal was his word for it.
Normal…is that really possible for anyone, nonetheless him?
But it soon came to his realization, that such would never happen. And as the new year had begun, he had changed. And he had returned…different. His need for normalcy was gone.
And everything he had done to try to be like everyone else was replaced with changes. Personalization.
And it was actually funny, but this one fact…it changed everything. It changed who he was. It changed how he did things.
Which may have explained why there was a hollow, emptied-out broken stick laying on the ground, collecting dust.
And why, even with his eyes now closed and his body rested completely, there was a feeling in the air of him being completely aware of everything around him.
No, not aware,
In Control. Complete Control.
And this was the fact, the one reason. The one sad fact of why everyone was afraid of him.
Everyone feared his very existence. Everyone feared his very allowance to live.
Hilarious really. Like an old quote I once heard. "Simple things make it so that, the heroes we build up one day, we trod into the dirt the next."
And the simple things have made it so that, despite all beliefs, the one sitting on the bed went from hero of the world to public enemy number one.
And judging by the smirk on his face when he found this out, he wouldn't have had it any other way.
And slowly his eyes cracked open.
And steadily an energy flowed from his body through the room like rushing water. An energy so powerful that it seemed to replace the air in the room. And an energy that was having a very startling effect on the one it was flowing from.
He was glowing
Glowing brightly. Illuminated with such light that, even upon shutting one's eyes, it was still blinding. And suddenly it shot straight up. Flying from his body straight through the ceiling and out of the tower. Up into the dusk sky, a straight beam. A beacon.
The Call
And as the light died down, his body fell back to rest…his eyes shut and his breathing slowed to barely anything at all.
And all over the world, warriors looked up to the sky, feeling the call. Feeling the drawing in their souls. And drawing up their weapons, warriors of different creeds and cultures, different disciplines and training styles all began out.
The World needed saviors, and they were answering the call.
Heroes, Villains, Thieves and Law abiders alike all heading out. All looking to do something with their abilities.
And yet, even as people prepared for whatever may be ahead of them, the one that was to lead them…the one that had called them all,
Was asleep, lost in his own thoughts.
Remembering a time where nothing was like it was.
A time when measures such as The Call weren't needed.
A time when Voldemort wasn't quickly becoming a threat to the entire world. A Threat so big, even he couldn't handle it.
Yes, not for the first time, good ol' Tommy Riddle was actually making the life of a certain Harry Potter much more difficult than it should have ever gotten.