Authors note:
This piece is actually a preparation for an original book.
Any criticism will be greatly appreciated.
As for pairings: Starts canon. No slash.
The Chaos Theory
Prologue – Between darkness and light
Long ago, many many years before our story even started, there was another child of the prophecy .
But while one was destined to end a life, the other was fated to rise and banish the light.
April 13, 1925 – Rosier Estate, southern France
Light. A flash of bright light pierced the darkness as Arnold was flung back to the other end of the room. Back against the was a loud crack and something snapped, maybe a bone if the pain was any indication at all.
Arnold could feel his wand slipping through his fingers, taken away by the force of magic.
He knew then - he was about to die.
It is said that when death is coming, your entire life is played before your eyes.
Like some old movie, you see yourself in your early years, the choices that you make, old loves, old friends, people that you once knew but they too passed from this world, and you wonder - what is it like?
But none of it happened to Arnold, for him one emotion burned stronger than any other. Consuming any chance he had for reminiscence or redemption.
For Arnold was a Death-Eater, and hatred was engraved in his heart.
Light was fading away, everything was becoming dizzy and Arnold fought just to maintain consciousness. Hatred, and desire to avenge this betrayal helped in keeping focus, but not by much.
"Riddle" he said through gritted teeth. "You traitor".
The school boy in front of him looked almost sympathetic. Almost,but Death-Eater robes and red taint in his eyes betrayed him for what he really was, a demon, that is.
"You should be proud, Lieutenant" Riddle said quietly.
"You are the second person to be killed by me, by Voldemort."
"One Riddle? You killed just one?"
Arnold laughed and immediately came to regret it. A sharp pain cursed through him bringing his laugh to an abrupt end. For a second there darkness was clouding his vision, but Arnold pushed it away. He lifted his head to look back at Riddle, no longer smiling.
"A bastard like you, I thought you killed more"
Whatever sympathy was etched on Riddle face was wiped clean in less than a second.
"This" he hissed "is your end, Potter"
"No wait!" Arnold shot back, but it was too late.
Riddle raised his left hand, his wand arm, and pointed his wand at Arnold.
Time seemed to hold still, he couldn't die! Not like this!
And then he recognized the wand.
The wand that Riddle held, it-it was the same one wielded by the Dark Lord!
He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest, his family was waiting for him, his wife, she didn't know he was a Death-Eater, no! It couldn't end like this! It-
A flash of light, green this time, pierced the darkness once again.
And this time, Arnold was cast into the darkness.
December 3 1997 – A place between worlds
Mist and fog were layered thickly upon cold stone floor, shrouding the gigantic stone pillars and stretching high, covering the sky high ceiling above. Walls with drawings and carvings from a time long gone and forgotten stood frozen, witnesses to what once was and will never come to be again.
Sitting on a bench, right in the very center of the ancient building, was a wrinkled man. His white beard long enough to reach the bench and then to slope downward until it touched the floor.
This man was old, even by wizarding standards, and that said something.
One did not live through so many wars without being exceptional at one thing or another. And this man was exceptional, at more then just one thing, or even several.
Sighing to himself, Albus Dumbeldor tried his best to ignore the soft whimpering sound resonating in the otherwise silent hall. In an effort to keep his mind off the sound he tried to decipher the odd carving etched on the walls. They were beautiful really, each sign a masterpiece of shape and color. In his mind, Albus ran his fingers on each sign, sensing each curve, and read them all.
Sometimes he thought he even glimpsed their meaning, but in vain.
Despite his best efforts, their answer had eluded him.
In death just as it once did in life.
Maybe if he got some peace and quiet. That whimpering sound certainly didn't do any good to his concentration, or his conscience.
A soft pacing sound finally broke Albus off his musings. Flickering in and out of view behind the pillars, Albus could see a figure moving. It wore black robes that from afar looked rather like Hogwarts uniform. Though with all that cursed mist, it was hard to tell.
Pace by pace, it's sound resonated in the cold ancient hall. Only shadowed by that soft whimpering sound in the distance.
The figure didn't seem to notice Albus, instead moving forward with vigor, with certainty.
To where the whimpering sound was coming from.
Then the pacing stopped. The figure slowly withdrew a wand and pointed it at the source of the sound.
"You cannot help" Albus said quietly.
The figure spun around quickly, wand still in hand, and Albus found himself facing his old student. Harry Potter.
The boy looked older than Albus seemed to remember. His gaze bearing nothing but mistrust and suspicion.
"Harry" Albus stood up and spread both his arms. "My boy, I am so glad you are safe."
Harry regarded him suspiciously.
"You're dead" he finally said.
"Oh yes" Albus said matter-of-factly.
Harry gave him a testing look and Albus noticed he still looked suspicious. Though he lowered his wand.
"But I am not, I cannot be" Harry said, shaking his head as he did. He looked so much in denial that Albus had to laugh.
"No, I don't believe you are, my boy" Albus replied cheerfully.
Harry looked up and once again met Albus gaze. Albus noticed Harry looked very uncomfortable with the wand still in hand. He held it close, as if trying to hide it without drawing too much attention.
Albus shook his head.
"What were you going to do with that wand, Harry?" he asked.
Appearing nervous, Harry gaze flickered briefly to his wand, then to the child whimpering on the floor. "You wouldn't understand" He finally said, a bit lamely.
Albus gave a hearty laugh. It was just so typical of Harry to think people around him wouldn't be able to comprehend.
"Try me"
Harry seemed to hesitate at first. But then he seemed to come to a decision. "Fine"
Then he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in what Albus recognize as a beginners attempt at Occlumency. Even Muggles practiced it to a measure.
When Harry spoke again, his voice was grave.
"Where I come from" he said slowly, eyes still closed. "There is no victory"
Albus blinked, a bit shocked but decided to reserve judgment for now.
Harry then opened his eyes and Albus noticed the amount of pain and hurt in them.
"After you died" he continued. "Voldemort had no reserve."
"People died left and right. The ministry, the last symbol of stability we had left, fell in a matter of months"
"Harry - "
Harry continued, once started he seemed compelled to finish.
"You couldn't even open a newspaper without seeing news about Muggle torture or murder. I guess they stopped reporting it after a while, not that I would know"
"You see, I stopped reading after they named me Undesirable Number One."
Harry gave a high, nervous laugh. One that was stained with madness.
"And I didn't even care! Somewhere along the way I stopped caring about what the public thought of me, as long as I had my friends beside me. Nothing else mattered."
Harrys hand tightened around his wand, and anger began crawling into his voice.
"And then they took that too away from me"
"And Remus and Tonks just had a baby" Harry finished, his voice barely audible with repressed emotion.
"I can't, I just can't" he said shivering.
"Harry" Albus tried again.
"I know how hard it must be for you, but you have to keep fighting. There is simply no one e-"
"I" "DON'T" "CARE!" Harry yelled, his wand aimed at Dumbeldor.
He was shivering all over, not with grief Albus realized, but with repressed anger.
"I am done with this" he hissed.
"I am going to go back, and take down their abomination of a leader before-"
"Harry!" Albus snapped, thinking the boy just officially lost it.
"We want the same thing, there is no reason for you to point that wand on me"
Harry regarded him for a long moment.
"No Albus, we don't want the same thing" He said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Albus paused, realizing the boy just used his first name for what seemed like the first time.
"This is all your fault!" Harry yelled.
"You let Voldemort do whatever he wanted for the better part of a century! You really think killing him now would matter?"
"Harry, we can't change the past, only -" Albus began.
"Ah, but we can" Harry said, and there was an alarming amount of cheerfulness in his voice.
He gave another laugh, and there was definitely madness in that one.
With one fluid motion, Harrys wand changed direction and pointed in the direction where the whimpering sound was coming from.
Time seemed to hold still for Albus. For the tiniest of moments, Albus thought he recognized hesitation in the boys eyes. Or was it fear?
But then his gaze hardened into certainty.
"Avada Kadavra"
Albus didn't even have time to react before the entire room seemed to explode into flames.
Green monstrous light filled the room as brilliant fire blossomed forth from the boy wand.
The Elder Wand. Albus realized.
Horrified. Albus watched as sickly green light and death with it, carried forth on the wings of an unholy flame. Mist and stone, all came alight.
For a moment the whimpering sound still resounded, echoing in the hall.
And then it stopped, and Albus regretted ever wishing it gone.
There was sound of air moving, a soft thump, and then silence.
There was nothing, nothing, more horrifying than this silence.
Nothing.
Author note: As Aisling-Siobhan pointed out, there is a slight mishap with the dates. Tom Riddle time at Hogwarts took place during Word War II, that's the 1940's. Not the 1920's. I took the liberty to shift it backwards around 20 years.
The reason for this, is, well. I am Jewish. And as you probaly know, Tom Riddle time at Hogwarts took place during the Holocaust. This fic stretches far behind the castle walls and involves the political situations of the time. As a writer, I would have been bound to at least address the issue. And as I have no intentions whatsoever of mixing this fic with the Holocaust. I have decided to avoid the entire issue and shift it 20 years back.
That's all really. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it. And thank you Aisling-Siobhan for pointing out my mistake. I had orginally intended to put an Author note about that. But I came up with the idea so long ago, I just forgot ;)
Happy reading.