Welcome to The Life And Times Of John Solart, an original set of short stories in the Harry Potter universe. The topic at hand is Mr John Solart, a wizard from the 17th century and his struggle with immortality. The storytelling will be nonlinear and features glimpses into John's previous lifetimes, for better or for worse. I will be writing these shorts intermittently when inspiration strikes and I feel like it. No strict plot is to be expected.
Warning: The main character is essentially a sociopath. Expect anything.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling, including my hair.
John Solart the Original sat strapped to a metal chair in a blank white cell. The day had been long and full of idiocy but finally his ex-students had emerged victorious against the Dark Lord that had appeared on the gates of Solart Academy of the Arte early this morning. Smart was indeed in deviously short supply when the students John himself had handpicked from hundreds of prospective students based on their intelligence and will could not connect the sudden disappearance of their Headmaster to the new Dark Lord.
It did not matter much, John had managed to get rid of the few most annoying students and staff members at his academy and finally gotten overpowered by the rest once they realised after killing him thrice that he was truly immortal and a change of tactics was needed. Destroying the dance studio his Vice-Principal had built on school grounds had been a true delight. Now it was time to wait for his students to rack their brains on ways to permanently kill the Dark Lord and John just needed to wait for them to do it.
He had plenty of time to think now. Not that he was really all that helpless in his imprisonment, actually he could break out any moment but that was hardly needed. Thinking back on his life, more specifically his lives, John found his resolve to die and be finally rid of himself stengthened tenfold. He'd lived far too long and not by his own choice. Besides he hated himself at times: Who the fuck thought up a plan to train bright witches and wizards in the Dark Arts in order to, in the end, turn against them as a Dark Lord to force them to kill him but forgot to think of a name for the Dark Lord persona?
John Solart, that's who. Now also known as Dark Lord Esophagus. Thinking of a good name while staring at the Vice-Principal had been surprisinly hard, good thing the man had a huge Adam's apple. No, wait, bad thing.
Anyway, moving on. Too many lives had passed by, too many times John had had his conciousness copied to the next of his kin in line thanks to his son's ambition combined with a lackluster aptitude for soul magic and dark rituals.
Should've taught the bastard better, John thought bitterly, idly trying to remember why he had not just told all the family secrets to his son almost 500 years earlier. Or killed him for that matter. Either way would've probably rid him of his problem. Unfortunately he had no idea. The events of his past lives were quite hazy the further back they were and his original life was the haziest.
Sighing out loud he cast his thoughts to the past, trying to remember all that had been. Somewhere, a clock ticked.