Never Look Back
Written by: Knight Honor
Beta: Nobody yet
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Harry is done with being the Order's puppet. Voldemort is dead yet Dumbledore isn't done making him dance for the wizarding world. Harry leaves the wizarding world forever, entering the muggle world as Brian Jackson. Maybe it's just a misunderstanding, or maybe Harry's right. The Order of the Phoenix is determined to have him back no matter what, following him around the world and interfering with his life.
Hermione drunk, Sirius cussed out by parents, Severus actually washes his hair, and Harry adopts. Places will be mentioned but not really described. Harry also becomes a fashion model with interesting……results.
Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Harry Potter, which belongs to the literary genius J.K. Rowling. I do however, own original characters and any mention of places, real or fake, I can't say that I accurately describe. Any help would be most appreciated if I make a mistake. If it appears that I seem to copy an idea, it was unintentional and just take it as a compliment but please tell me if I did copy something. This does resemble the story that someone wrote, Catch Me If You Can. That's where I got the idea from, however most of the ideas are my own. After all, writing a story is plagiarism of our thoughts, and copying other's ideas.
A/N: Not much to say except please read and review. Oh, and a beta. A beta would defiantly be most appreciated.
Chapter One
Running away is the best thing to do
This was the first time he had ever been in airport. Crowds of people with airport security all over the place; luggage in piles, music playing softly with a new hit tune, the funky smell of the plastic chairs that wheezed when you sat down in them, and the delicious smells of greasy food that followed you everywhere.
At this point his stomach growled. He hadn't eaten anything since last night before the battle. He shook his head. Don't think about it, just forget it. Emerald eyes turned to look at the ceiling, blinking back fierce tears. He counted to ten until his vision cleared and then turned to look back around the airport.
Thin and gangly, he had an air about him of a teenager that had just reached his final growth spurt and was unused to the height that accompanied it. He sat at odd angles with himself, nervousness and tension in his body posture. A mop of messy black hair sat atop of his head, sticking up slightly in the back. High cheekbones and a noble nose betrayed a higher breeding of sorts; dark lashes more suited for a girl surrounded emerald eyes. But what drew attention to him weren't his ill-fitting clothes or the tense body posture: it was the thin lightning bolt that carved its way down the center of his forehead.
Thin and angular, it fit his face perfectly. An old scar, it cut thinly through the hairline down to the tip of his eyebrow. It portrayed the perfect image of danger and drew some admiring glances from the ladies.
The dark emerald eyes held sadness and fear in its gaze; this boy had been through so much more than any average person should go through in a lifetime. No carefree smile graced his face and the muscles of his mouth felt unused from a permanent expression of sadness and anger that had wreathed it previously the night before. Now a nervous smile would flit across, revealing a handsome boy that was battle-scarred and worn.
"Hello everyone, my name is James Evans and I will be your captain this evening." The voice over the intercom forced the young man to awaken from solid nerves. He jumped slightly in his chair and turned a little bit to the front counter. It was the first time he noticed the commotion that had been going around at the front counter.
A load of ladies in white and blue uniforms, stewardesses, were running around frantically. A man in heavy winter clothing clutching a metal tool in his hands was waving his hands in the air to exaggerate a point he was making to what appeared to be the co-captain or the main stewardess; he couldn't tell from his location. Behind the counter where tickets where checked in and passengers boarded, a friendly looking man stood with a microphone in his hand.
Other passengers sat around him, there bodies and faces different and showing they came from all around the world. A lady that sat a few seats away from him wore ripped blue jeans and a black shirt that had mindless graffiti written on it. She was bobbing in her head to the song she was listening, a CD player rested in her lap and a shoulder bag lay next to her sneaker clad feet.
Across from her, a woman dressed in the traditional garb of Scots woman glanced through a magazine, flipping occasionally; ignoring the stares she was receiving some people. A few rows away, a happy, bubbly group of teenage girls chatted away, their language not English and something he didn't recognize. Mandarin Chinese? Tongan? It sounded exotic, like it came from some island in the sea, surrounded only by water and clouds.
Man that sounded good; nothing but the waves and the sky; no flashing wands, funerals, or an eternal grey sky. It would be him and the island; nobody else around to bug him to fulfill this prophecy, to kill this guy, save this girl. All he had to do was leave the country without being caught.
"Hey, you all right?" the voice came from his right, causing him to jump slightly. From the innocent bystander, he had turned slightly in his chair, startled by the sound.
However, a trained professional could tell he had reacted as if he was potentially being attacked. Lidded eyes, defense position with one arm crossed in front of the body, the other behind him reaching for a weapon that didn't exist.
What he saw made him draw back slightly, but he kept his hand near his back, fingers near his wrist to release a catch lever that would make him more dangerous than any one exiting or entering the airport. It was her, the girl he had seen, with the CD player and ripped jeans.
"Y-yeah," he coughed. Was that his voice? Scratchy and disused? No wonder the woman who sold him the ticket gave him such a weird look. Clearing his throat, he answered with something a little more complete and polite. "Uh yeah, sorry, I'm fine."
"You sure?" her voice, as smooth as rain and silk, hid uneasiness and nervousness. He nodded for her benefit. "Okay, just didn't want to board a plane with some raving lunatic." She continued to speak, not paying attention to the way his eyes darkened with hate and sadness. He had been called that before, during his fourth and fifth years, when he knew the truth yet no listened to hear it. It hurt to hear him be called that, especially in the end. To a nineteen year old who had no childhood and lost so many friends, it hurt to be called that.
"The names Mkenzie Alorton. Yes, the names are weird but I blame my ancestors and my raving lunatic I call a mother who decided to name me Mkenzie." She grinned wolfishly, rather the way Sirius used to when he joked about something. "But if you think my name is bad, you should hear my sister's; it's Ymber, which is Celtic or something. Have no clue what it means and neither does my mum; she found it in some sort of Irish romance novel."
She smiled, if that was possible, even bigger. He couldn't help it: her grin was infectious. He extended his hand and she shook it.
"The name's Harry, Harry Potter."
Gaahhhhh! Sorry it is super short, but I need to post it before bed time which is practically right now. I don't know about you guys who are in high school as well, but I am seriously in lack of sleep.
It is currently 9 at night, my sister is reciting some sort of poem for her sixth grade, and is now messing with my hair and putting it into pigtails. Someone save me from this madness!
I finished my first year of seminary, studying the B.O.M. and if anybody knows what I'm talking about, power to you. It's a pain to get up at 5 in the morning and skip breakfast almost everyday to just arrive on time.
I would love ideas and reviews, especially a beta. The next chapter hopefully will be up very soon and be much longer. If you want to e-mail me, it's in my bio, up top and right here: my lil' readers,
KnightHonor