THE TIME AFTER THE FALL
By :Hannah
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot and what ever people you don't know.
Note: I wrote this like a year ago or so. It was one of the first things I ever wrote and I really like the plot but my writting left a lot to be desired. It still does but I'm going to try and find the time to redo this this thing compleatly.
Feedback: Since I'm redoing this, that would mean teh world to me but I'm noy going to finsh redoing it if no one reviews.
I was told once that if you want to tell a story then you should write so that your words paint a picture in the mind of your reader. Now I'll admit to never having written much of anything before and it doesn't take and art critic to tell you how poor my drawings are. But I gave art a try and now I find that I want to give writing a try if only to spin one simple tale. And so I paint for you.
The scene was a dusky evening. The trees were full of reds and yellows as well as purples and blues from the setting sun behind them. They were scattered along the gently sloping hillside until they reached the top where they grew more dense in number and foliage. All that could be seen from this vantage point was a small dirt path leading you away into the dark forest. A youngish man with disordered black hair and green eyes walked the path but his body language belied his placid face. He was afraid to enter those woods. But why, I do not know. Let us set in motion the picture shall we? Yes.
Harry Potter walked slowly along the dirt path. The trees seemed to welcome him but his feet shuffled along. His mind reeled under the weight of a thousand things. Pictures he'd seen on the news a few minutes ago, the poor man he had passed on his way home earlier this evening, and even the half starved dog that had followed him around for a while as he walked from the metro station to his office. But the thing namely on his mind was the place he was headed.
It was a hidden little clearing in the woods beyond our sunset colored trees that was only known to him and one other person. It was a cemetery. Two unmarked stones only but a cemetery none the less. Today, that was his Destination. Sad as it was.
Emotions and memories assaulted him as he made his way cautiously deeper into the thick trees. The haunting aroma of another woman's perfume. The screams that haunted even his most pleasant dreams. It all came rushing back to his mind forcing the oppressive thoughts he'd been having out and replacing them with ones harder to bare in silence. But he did. If only for her.
She had been his first love. And surprisingly, it had not been one of the girls his friends had expected her to be. Not Ginny or Hermione or Cho. Not who they expected... Kinda like with him how they'd all expected some great guy who'd defeated Voldemort and they found him to instead be just Harry. Yeah, that kind of unexpected. She was also his first real loss... Well, that he could remember.
Not like with his parents where he was too small to understand it all or even when Cedric died and he did understand it. Well, as much as we ever understand why a person dies. Harry hadn't really know the Hufflepuff boy too long or too well. This was so different from any of that. So apart from it all.
She had been his first love. I mean true love. The kind the write poems and epic plays about. The kind every one wishes they could have and hold on to but only those rare few actually get to. It was that kind of love. They were going to get married someday. She had drawn a picture of her dream dress and he had already picked out her ring on a Hogsmead visit one Saturday when she wasn't watching. To this day he could see her face though the years had washed it of the sharp colors it had once held. To this day he could hear her screaming at the man who would spell her death that he was no better than the dirt she walked on. A dirt Harry once said he would have kissed but raised his standards after hearing that.
That was just the kind of person she was though. Ready to do something so foolish to save the one she loved. It was a part of her that made Harry stop and wonder what star he'd been born under to deserve her.
Looking back, Harry knew that she must have known what was coming. They both heard the words echo in the still air. He'd had watched her face as the curse was fired. Nothing showed on her face. No fear. No hate. But also no peace. Nothing would come from that blank expression. But just before the curses hit her, she did something no one would ever believe. She smiled. She looked death right in the eye and smiled her brightest smile.
Upon impact, it was not the girl who felt the hit. It was Harry. Harry was so blind with every emotion imaginable welling up on his heart and clouding his mind, that he had begun to scream curses at the monster before Voldemort even had a chance to react. She was dead before he knew what happened. And for the boy who lived, it was over too soon. He had not suffered enough.
But even so, Harry threw down his wand and ran over to the snake eyed lifeless form on the ground and began to punch and kick the lifeless body of the former dark lord. Bones cracked and snapped. A rib erupted from his chest. Blood ran down Harry's arms in red rivers that fell in waterfalls to the ground and burrowed into the earth. Harry had never been so blinded with rage and hate and the feeling of lost love.
After about ten minutes of this, he fell to the ground. So tired he couldn't stand. He didn't want to. He wanted to die there and be with her but he had nothing with which to commit the deed. His wand lay too far off and he wasn't certain the killing curse could be performed on one's self. And so he lay there with his arms protectively around the girl waist with his head buried in her back. Another painting I give to you though I fear you may not want it.
But want it or no, that was how they found him the next morning. Barley living and not wanting to. The woman who'd found him was only a few years older than his 18. She's been walking in the woods just as she'd always done every morning. But today as she mounted that hill she knew it was going to be some what of a different sort of day. When she came upon the scene, she buried the bodies without question and dragged Harry's half dead body from the woods. She did not know what was going on and reacted on pure instinct. When Harry awoke in the muggle hospital, it was three days later and she sat be his bedside.
The woman's name was Mia Adams. She'd come to see Harry everyday and when he did finally awake she was sitting there wondering who this mysterious stranger could possibly be. He had no name or anything distinctive on his person save his scar. He was referred to by the nurses as simply 'Joe in room 220'.
Mia was fascinated by him. Having spent her childhood in one all girls school after another, most men had been foreign to her. Her father was never in the picture and she had only one male teacher. So who was this man she'd found? Why was he in the woods with two dead people? She'd told the police he'd been outside her house for fear they'd find the bodies but still it plagued her mind.
She had no time for any more thoughts. He'd stirred. The questions she'd been asking flew right out the window in a single invisible gust of imagined wind. Mia was so startled by being jerked out of her reverie so fast that she let out a yelp.
The doctors rushed in and began to ask questions and find out who the strange man was leaving Mia to simply listened as they hounded the man... no, amend that... boy who he was and what had happened to him.
That day marked a turning point in Harry's life. He knew he shouldn't give out his name. Something in him screamed that now was not the time to give it out. It was like if he gave it to the men and women in the white coats he would lose what little he had left in the world. So when he blurted out, "Connor. Connor Harrison" It surprised him how readily the lie came.
And now as "Connor" looked at the mounds of earth, marked only by plain stones stuck in the dirt he remembered that day. The people the rested under them remained nameless as his past. He couldn't even remember the girl's name anymore. Maybe it hadn't been "that kind of love" after all. But then what had it been? It didn't matter any more really.
He remembered that as soon as he felt well enough and Mia had explained things to him, he came back here and found his wand were it had dropped in the confusion. He'd tried a few simple spells but none had worked. His magic was gone. He remembered how he'd looked lovingly at his wand and silently dug a small hole between the two stones and buried it. He'd never look back. How could he, the famous Harry Potter, the boy who lived, face the wizarding world with no magic? No. He'd lived as a muggle before and would again. No great lose in the long run.
So from that day on, he gave it all up. He walked back to the village and Mia. He walked away from it all. His past and what might have some day been his future. All of it was behind him now and he meant to much to leave it there.
As time went on Harry and Mia inevitably fell in love. This time I mean "that kind of love." Harry told her everything and that meant that she was the only one he ever told about his past. Maybe he did want to hold on to the past because he did, you know. As much as he didn't admit to it, he clung tightly to the past he was trying so hard to get rid of.
And so, as the sun set over the tree tops, he walked back to the house. Away from the picture trees and the unmarked graves of his friend and his enemy. Towards his beautiful muggle wife and their beautiful muggle children and the lie that was his muggle life. But that was not ment to be... For when do any of us live the picture perfect life?
TBC.........?
By :Hannah
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot and what ever people you don't know.
Note: I wrote this like a year ago or so. It was one of the first things I ever wrote and I really like the plot but my writting left a lot to be desired. It still does but I'm going to try and find the time to redo this this thing compleatly.
Feedback: Since I'm redoing this, that would mean teh world to me but I'm noy going to finsh redoing it if no one reviews.
I was told once that if you want to tell a story then you should write so that your words paint a picture in the mind of your reader. Now I'll admit to never having written much of anything before and it doesn't take and art critic to tell you how poor my drawings are. But I gave art a try and now I find that I want to give writing a try if only to spin one simple tale. And so I paint for you.
The scene was a dusky evening. The trees were full of reds and yellows as well as purples and blues from the setting sun behind them. They were scattered along the gently sloping hillside until they reached the top where they grew more dense in number and foliage. All that could be seen from this vantage point was a small dirt path leading you away into the dark forest. A youngish man with disordered black hair and green eyes walked the path but his body language belied his placid face. He was afraid to enter those woods. But why, I do not know. Let us set in motion the picture shall we? Yes.
Harry Potter walked slowly along the dirt path. The trees seemed to welcome him but his feet shuffled along. His mind reeled under the weight of a thousand things. Pictures he'd seen on the news a few minutes ago, the poor man he had passed on his way home earlier this evening, and even the half starved dog that had followed him around for a while as he walked from the metro station to his office. But the thing namely on his mind was the place he was headed.
It was a hidden little clearing in the woods beyond our sunset colored trees that was only known to him and one other person. It was a cemetery. Two unmarked stones only but a cemetery none the less. Today, that was his Destination. Sad as it was.
Emotions and memories assaulted him as he made his way cautiously deeper into the thick trees. The haunting aroma of another woman's perfume. The screams that haunted even his most pleasant dreams. It all came rushing back to his mind forcing the oppressive thoughts he'd been having out and replacing them with ones harder to bare in silence. But he did. If only for her.
She had been his first love. And surprisingly, it had not been one of the girls his friends had expected her to be. Not Ginny or Hermione or Cho. Not who they expected... Kinda like with him how they'd all expected some great guy who'd defeated Voldemort and they found him to instead be just Harry. Yeah, that kind of unexpected. She was also his first real loss... Well, that he could remember.
Not like with his parents where he was too small to understand it all or even when Cedric died and he did understand it. Well, as much as we ever understand why a person dies. Harry hadn't really know the Hufflepuff boy too long or too well. This was so different from any of that. So apart from it all.
She had been his first love. I mean true love. The kind the write poems and epic plays about. The kind every one wishes they could have and hold on to but only those rare few actually get to. It was that kind of love. They were going to get married someday. She had drawn a picture of her dream dress and he had already picked out her ring on a Hogsmead visit one Saturday when she wasn't watching. To this day he could see her face though the years had washed it of the sharp colors it had once held. To this day he could hear her screaming at the man who would spell her death that he was no better than the dirt she walked on. A dirt Harry once said he would have kissed but raised his standards after hearing that.
That was just the kind of person she was though. Ready to do something so foolish to save the one she loved. It was a part of her that made Harry stop and wonder what star he'd been born under to deserve her.
Looking back, Harry knew that she must have known what was coming. They both heard the words echo in the still air. He'd had watched her face as the curse was fired. Nothing showed on her face. No fear. No hate. But also no peace. Nothing would come from that blank expression. But just before the curses hit her, she did something no one would ever believe. She smiled. She looked death right in the eye and smiled her brightest smile.
Upon impact, it was not the girl who felt the hit. It was Harry. Harry was so blind with every emotion imaginable welling up on his heart and clouding his mind, that he had begun to scream curses at the monster before Voldemort even had a chance to react. She was dead before he knew what happened. And for the boy who lived, it was over too soon. He had not suffered enough.
But even so, Harry threw down his wand and ran over to the snake eyed lifeless form on the ground and began to punch and kick the lifeless body of the former dark lord. Bones cracked and snapped. A rib erupted from his chest. Blood ran down Harry's arms in red rivers that fell in waterfalls to the ground and burrowed into the earth. Harry had never been so blinded with rage and hate and the feeling of lost love.
After about ten minutes of this, he fell to the ground. So tired he couldn't stand. He didn't want to. He wanted to die there and be with her but he had nothing with which to commit the deed. His wand lay too far off and he wasn't certain the killing curse could be performed on one's self. And so he lay there with his arms protectively around the girl waist with his head buried in her back. Another painting I give to you though I fear you may not want it.
But want it or no, that was how they found him the next morning. Barley living and not wanting to. The woman who'd found him was only a few years older than his 18. She's been walking in the woods just as she'd always done every morning. But today as she mounted that hill she knew it was going to be some what of a different sort of day. When she came upon the scene, she buried the bodies without question and dragged Harry's half dead body from the woods. She did not know what was going on and reacted on pure instinct. When Harry awoke in the muggle hospital, it was three days later and she sat be his bedside.
The woman's name was Mia Adams. She'd come to see Harry everyday and when he did finally awake she was sitting there wondering who this mysterious stranger could possibly be. He had no name or anything distinctive on his person save his scar. He was referred to by the nurses as simply 'Joe in room 220'.
Mia was fascinated by him. Having spent her childhood in one all girls school after another, most men had been foreign to her. Her father was never in the picture and she had only one male teacher. So who was this man she'd found? Why was he in the woods with two dead people? She'd told the police he'd been outside her house for fear they'd find the bodies but still it plagued her mind.
She had no time for any more thoughts. He'd stirred. The questions she'd been asking flew right out the window in a single invisible gust of imagined wind. Mia was so startled by being jerked out of her reverie so fast that she let out a yelp.
The doctors rushed in and began to ask questions and find out who the strange man was leaving Mia to simply listened as they hounded the man... no, amend that... boy who he was and what had happened to him.
That day marked a turning point in Harry's life. He knew he shouldn't give out his name. Something in him screamed that now was not the time to give it out. It was like if he gave it to the men and women in the white coats he would lose what little he had left in the world. So when he blurted out, "Connor. Connor Harrison" It surprised him how readily the lie came.
And now as "Connor" looked at the mounds of earth, marked only by plain stones stuck in the dirt he remembered that day. The people the rested under them remained nameless as his past. He couldn't even remember the girl's name anymore. Maybe it hadn't been "that kind of love" after all. But then what had it been? It didn't matter any more really.
He remembered that as soon as he felt well enough and Mia had explained things to him, he came back here and found his wand were it had dropped in the confusion. He'd tried a few simple spells but none had worked. His magic was gone. He remembered how he'd looked lovingly at his wand and silently dug a small hole between the two stones and buried it. He'd never look back. How could he, the famous Harry Potter, the boy who lived, face the wizarding world with no magic? No. He'd lived as a muggle before and would again. No great lose in the long run.
So from that day on, he gave it all up. He walked back to the village and Mia. He walked away from it all. His past and what might have some day been his future. All of it was behind him now and he meant to much to leave it there.
As time went on Harry and Mia inevitably fell in love. This time I mean "that kind of love." Harry told her everything and that meant that she was the only one he ever told about his past. Maybe he did want to hold on to the past because he did, you know. As much as he didn't admit to it, he clung tightly to the past he was trying so hard to get rid of.
And so, as the sun set over the tree tops, he walked back to the house. Away from the picture trees and the unmarked graves of his friend and his enemy. Towards his beautiful muggle wife and their beautiful muggle children and the lie that was his muggle life. But that was not ment to be... For when do any of us live the picture perfect life?
TBC.........?