Full Summary: Hogwarts is separated from the rest of the wizarding world when an incomplete ward falls during a battle between the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix. To fix this, Harry, his friends, and his former enemies must work together to attempt to get help from the Hogwarts' Founders themselves. AU, seventh year, HBP disregarded, Pre-slash.
Disclaimer: Sadly, Harry Potter is not mine. Everything in here belongs to JK Rowling, except the plot, which I can claim as my own.
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The room is white. White walls, barely visible above the spotless floor, under the pristine ceiling. The board is in the centre, flanked by two simple white chairs.
The board, at first glance, is simple black and white chequered. At second glance, notice is taken the unusual shapes of the 'squares': rectangles, triangles, circles. The black and white slowly turns to gray; the larger area outside the board is seen. A steady stream of faint white sand flowing peculiarly through the board, visible clearly to only one of the players. Infinite boards, immeasurable spreading out from the board, are seen clearly only by the other player.
The two players face each other, both ageless, both determined. The woman is beautiful beyond mortal comprehension, in comparison, the man is merely average. Two players facing each other. Not playing each other, not working against one another, but merely playing.
"I do believe it is your turn." A strand of hair is gently swept aside by an unseen hand as the woman comments.
The man replies calmly, "And how could you be wrong?"
The slightest hint of a laugh from the other player. "That still remains to be seen, as you very well know. Regardless, if we must sit here playing, one would be pleased if you would move."
"So impatient, aren't we? We have all the time in the world, as you very well know."
"Beyond the world. Now if you can go?"
"Anything for you." Smiling slightly; a flick of his wrist, and the dice, previously unseen, roll. A two and a five. A seven pieces move at random. Not pawns, for no one is a pawn in the game of life, but rather players. For what are people but players in the theatre of life?
"And now I can draw." With those words, a neat pile of cards appear, just in time for the woman's hand to take one. Flipped over, the card reveals a moving cloud across a dark sun. Bordered with unreadable gold symbols, the card is examined closely by both.
"I think you need to roll again." The words, formerly calm and cool, now are edged with uncertainty.
"If you say so." The reply comes, like her answer, slightly perplexed.
The dice are thrown again. This time two ones come up. Snake eyes, devil eyes. A laugh from both.
"Of course! Why did we not see it before?" They share a moment of laughter before the man flicks his hand. The sand flowing through the board stops suddenly, and slowly begins to build up. The woman claps her hands together, as if in delight, and the board on the table slowly separates from the other, infinite boards.
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A universe away, three teenagers sat in a silent dorm, watching a large parchment spread across the floor. Occasionally, one of them stood up and walked to the window, rapidly conveying the scene outside to the other two.
The parchment was a large map of their school; the three teens are the Saviour of the Wizarding World, The Boy Who Lived, and his two friends, all destined to fight for the Light and overthrow the Dark.
The scene outside showed a fierce battle, marked by the overwhelming presence of black robes and white masks, but interspersed among them, wizards wearing blood red robes fight just as fiercely. One figure, tall, black, and imposing stood, marked by an empty circle around him, keeping the red figures at bay with casual flicks of his wand, taunting, teasing.
The three teens, impatient, angry, and grieving, watched as their teachers fell back, pushed ever closer to the castle.
"Sinistra's up against McNair now," the boy at the window dully reported. The other two looked up quickly before locating her on their map.
"I wish there was something we could do to help!" the girl exclaimed, frustrated. "All we're doing is watching them lose!"
"I know, Hermione, I know," the third member of their group consoled her, patting her shoulder comfortingly. "We're did all we could. It's out of our hands now."
The first boy came to sit by the other two, watching silently, tension expressed in every line of his body, brushing his messy, black hair out of his eyes annoyed.
The room was silent once more as they all study the map. Suddenly the black haired boy looked up, eyes out of focus, concentrating.
"What's wrong, Harry?" the girl asked, alarmed.
"Something's happening. I can feel it."
The other two sat quietly, straining to hear something. On the very edge of their hearing, barely perceptible, they could hear a sound, like the tearing of paper.
"I hear something!" the two exclaimed excitedly.
The boy shushed them quickly. Next thing they know, their school jerked, and blue light washed over everything.
A/N: Aaaand . . . that's all folks! End of the prologue. This idea has been hanging around for quite awhile, and I'd be very much obliged if you, my wonderful reader, told me what you thought of it by leaving a review. Even a simple "Good" or "Awful" will do (but long reviews are even better! hint hint). Many thanks to my PI (Perfect Imagination) beta XxTheGreyLadyxX.