Title: Treasures Of Old
By: Adarial Ciao
Summary: The War ended 7 years ago, and since then, Harry has exiled himself from the Wizarding world. He lives alone in a small flat in muggle London, and slowly, loneliness starts to overcome him. But when someone from his past comes back into the picture, his life takes a turn....for the better? Let's hope so!
Disclaimer: Not mine. JK Rowling's. All thats mine is the plot (if you could call it that).
Prologue: Side-Stepped From the Public Eye
As I lay on my back, staring unblinkingly at the gray digital number on the green screen of my muggle clock, I pray for sleep. It doesn't come. I am still as awake as ever. The clock tells me that it is 6:00 a.m. Scracth that- 6:01. It's bad enough laying in bed night after night with no sleep to rescue my waking conscious, but to lay in bed alone is even worse. The sheets are cold and longing for another body to warm them. To warm me.
I try different things to help me sleep, like exercising before I go to bed, or drinking a glass of warm milk. That's what Aunt Petunia always used to do for Dudley when we were younger and he would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare (he probably dreamed that the worlds supply of chocolate magically dissapeared).Not that anything ever works.
I'm not entirely sure why I have become such an insomniac. There aren't really any reasons that keep me awake. I hardly ever get nightmares anymore, and if I do...well, lets just say I'm used to it. Absolutely no visions, seeing as how there's no crazed, hypocritical halfblood lunatic bent on world domination to invade my mind anymore. A.k.a, Ding-dong the dumbass is dead. No more Moldie Voldie.
The war came at no specific time, it had simply been brewing since the moment I lived. The tensions increased after my 5th year at Hogwarts. People finally started to believe that Voldemort was back after the episode at the Ministry. Fudge, however, possessed too much pride to ever admit that he was wrong, and continued to malign the Order. Stupid git.
The final battle was a harsh one. The attack came three days before Christmas in my 7th and final year at Hogwarts. The deatheaters figured that they would have a better chance at storming the castle if the students were gone. They really were stupid. They should have known that what with the war and all that more students, almost the entire student population to be precise, would stay at Hogwarts over break. It was simply too dangerous to go home, and parents didn't want to take the risk.
We had gotten word from a few of our spies (and we had a fair number of them, among them Snape, and surprisingly, Draco Malfoy- it just wasn't his style to bow down to anyone) that there was going to be an attack. The news came on the 20th, leaving us only a few days to prepare. Luckily, all of Dumbledore's Army (which had increased immensly when it became school sponsered) had stayed, and since the holidays were always a likely time for attacks, all members of the Order had been on call. By the 21st, the castle was harboring one of the largest magical armies in history. We were ready.
The attack from the deatheaters came swiftly as they entered the grounds just before dawn on the 22nd. The battle itself lasted only a few hours, as many of the deatheaters had been wounded or killed as soon as they entered the Hogwarts gates, thanks to some nasty traps set by the Weasley twins that were developed to detect and destroy any presence of dark magic. From then on the fighting was intense. The deatheaters didn't go straight for the killing curse, they choose to use more brutal, tortorous spells that would wound horriblly and keep you down. Therein was their mistake. They enjoyed the torture too much to pay attention to what was happening around them, making them easy targets for the trained members of DA and the Order.
I fought Voldemort one on one.There was no other way. It took me awhile to find him, trudging through the sea of fallen black cloaks and the many duels that still lingered on. It was noon before our duel began. I knew that I would never be able to bring him down with only my wand. He was too quick to succumb to a simple killing curse, so I had a surprise in store. We dueled, throwing curses left and right. The entire time he kept mocking me, taunting me about my parent's death, trying to send visions to me of my mother as she fought valiantly to save me. At that moment, I couldn't have been more thankful to Snape for those grueling occlumency lessons, even if i did have to see him in his tightie-whities.
When I thought he was weakened enough, I pulled out my surprise: a Muggle handgun. Thanks to my quick Seeker reflexes, and training in the weapon, I fired a shot right for his heart just as realization dawned in his beady red eyes. Just to be safe, I fired another, and then he was down. Of course, he wasn't dead, he was too poweful. No, the gun was merely a distraction. While he lay bleeding, his blood black and tainted, on the ground, trying desperately to heal his wounds with dark magic, I cast it: Avada Kedavra. He fell limp on sight.
That was it. The war was over, the Wizarding world was safe; but at a cost. Ron never walked again after being hit with a dark version of the leg-locking curse. Professor McGonagall, though a wonderful witch, was weakened so much by the battle that she could no longer teach and could barely move out of bed for nearly a year after the battle. Oliver Wood, who fought in the battle despite not being a member of the DA or the Order, suffered such severe burns and lacerations on his left arm after being tortured by Lucius Malfoy (who had escaped Azkaban), that it had to be amputated. He lost his Quidditch career, but thankfully, not his life, like so many others did. Percy Weasley, Dean Thomas, Fudge (it never was decided which side killed the git), and so many other gave thier lives to save the Wizarding world.
That Christmas was a bittersweet one. We were free. Voldemort was gone, and all the deatheaters has been caught, thanks to wards on the school that prevented any of them from leaving, and sent to Azkaban which now was at the hands of huamn gaurds. But still, there was so much death. So many innocent lives gone. Their absence was tangible in the air at the belated Christmas Feast, which was held on New Years Eve. Professor Dumbledore decided to wait until the Hospital Wing was empty(the more serious cases has been sent to St. Mungo's) so that everybody could attend.
The food was wonderful and the hall was beautiful. There was snow falling softly from the ceiling that would dissipate before it reached the tables, and luscious green bows of holly hung everywhere, along with wreaths that smelled wonderfully of Christmas. But still, the chatter throughout the hall was muffled and laughter was tentative and nervous. As much as we wanted to celebrate, we couldn't. Was it right for us to be happy with so many gone? Was it right to laugh at a joke when the chair next to you was empty? Was it right to kiss under the mistletoe when there were so many people that had lost their lovers? We didn't know. So we simply tried to move on, to start our new lives, without the previously ever present threat of a looming Dark Lord.
Slowly removing myself from my memories, I glanced at the clock, and sighed. 7:22 the digital numbers flashed. I might as well get up.
I rose slowly out of bed, exhausted and trapped in a meloncholy mood, and head to the bathroom for my morning shower. This is what happens everytime I think about that day. It's hard to believe that that was seven years ago. Since then many aspects of my life have changed. I moved into muggle London after I graduated. I needed a break from the world where all I was was The Boy Who Lived. Don't get me wrong, magic is still part of my life, but I work and live among muggles. It's easier this way, being able to walk down the street anonomously. I suppose I took the easy way out. Running away from my past, such a cliched thing to do. But I didn't necessarily run, I just...casually sidestepped my way out of the public eye. I haven't truely abandoned my past, like I said, magic is still a part of my life. I still carry my wand with me wherever I go, and I still visit the Weasleys. The Weasleys of course being Ron and Hermione. They got married shortly after we graduated, making Ron one happy man. After he became crippled and had to be assisted constantly but a wheelchair(a device that thoroughly interested Mr. Weasley due to it's muggle origins), he thought no one would want him. He was thrilled when Hermione proposed. She always was one to take charge.
Speaking of Hermione, I just remembered. I'm supposed to have lunch with her today, she wanted to talk to me about something. Her and Ron are doing really well, Herm's even expecting their first child. They are so happy with each other. It makes me laugh thinking about all the years at school when they refused to admit their feeling for each other. Still, as happy as I am for them, I'm a bit envious. Im 24 years old, and I have never had a meaningful relationship. Ever. I've only ever kissed a handful of people, none of which were very pleasurable experiences. It was just too hard to ever get close to anyone at Hogwarts, with the War and all. Then after everything was over, I just couldn't wait to escape, I didn't care abou anything thing esle. Now though, I get so lonely sometimes. Often times, when I lay in bed at night, I think about what it would be like to have someone laying next to me. What it would be like to have someone who loved me...Ugh!
"Stop thinking about this Harry! You'll only dig yourself deeper into your hole of self-pity." Wow, I think I'm even more lonely than I thought. I'm starting to talk to myself.
I got out of the shower, and shivered from the cold. I hope I remembered to ask Mrs. Marlow, my boss at the second-hand bookstore I work at, for an extended lunch hour. I really should get a remembrall. Herm told me that Neville sells many unique ones at his store in Diagon Alley, Forget-Me-Nots.
Looking in the mirror, I almost cringed at my appearence. Stubble covered face, dark hollow eyes, and wet hair fresh from the shower. I look a mess, only not, because I just took a shower. So, I look a clean mess. I really should start getting some sleep, I'm I could get some dreamless sleep draught somehow. Laughing quietly to myself, I imagine the look on Snape's face if the Boy Wonder just suddenly appeared at his doorstep after seven years of self-exile, asking for a dreamless sleep draught. It would be priceless!
Walking back into the bedroom, I dress quickly in a simple dark green t-shirt and old, worn jeans. Searching for my trainers, I realize I'm going to be late for work if I don't leave in the next two minutes. I race around the room, looking for my shoes. Finally finding them I slip them on, tie them quickly, and run out the door of my tiny three-room flat.
It's only once I'm three blocks away from my flat, and dangerously close to being late, that I realize I've forgotten my wand. Well isn't that just dandy?
Running the last block to Marlow's Treasures of Old, the aforementioned second-hand bookstore, I glance at my watch (at least I remembered to put that on).
I'm late.
Great. Just bloody great.
a/n: Okay, well. This is my first fanfic, though I've been obsessed with fanfic for ages! I plan on continuing this, but encouragement from random people who read it would certainly help. ^_~. I know Harry's character is lacking, but this is mainly just an introduction. More characterization in later chapters. Also, this isn't supposed to be some big meaningful story, its just how I see Harry's life after the war. So, enjoy!
By: Adarial Ciao
Summary: The War ended 7 years ago, and since then, Harry has exiled himself from the Wizarding world. He lives alone in a small flat in muggle London, and slowly, loneliness starts to overcome him. But when someone from his past comes back into the picture, his life takes a turn....for the better? Let's hope so!
Disclaimer: Not mine. JK Rowling's. All thats mine is the plot (if you could call it that).
Prologue: Side-Stepped From the Public Eye
As I lay on my back, staring unblinkingly at the gray digital number on the green screen of my muggle clock, I pray for sleep. It doesn't come. I am still as awake as ever. The clock tells me that it is 6:00 a.m. Scracth that- 6:01. It's bad enough laying in bed night after night with no sleep to rescue my waking conscious, but to lay in bed alone is even worse. The sheets are cold and longing for another body to warm them. To warm me.
I try different things to help me sleep, like exercising before I go to bed, or drinking a glass of warm milk. That's what Aunt Petunia always used to do for Dudley when we were younger and he would wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare (he probably dreamed that the worlds supply of chocolate magically dissapeared).Not that anything ever works.
I'm not entirely sure why I have become such an insomniac. There aren't really any reasons that keep me awake. I hardly ever get nightmares anymore, and if I do...well, lets just say I'm used to it. Absolutely no visions, seeing as how there's no crazed, hypocritical halfblood lunatic bent on world domination to invade my mind anymore. A.k.a, Ding-dong the dumbass is dead. No more Moldie Voldie.
The war came at no specific time, it had simply been brewing since the moment I lived. The tensions increased after my 5th year at Hogwarts. People finally started to believe that Voldemort was back after the episode at the Ministry. Fudge, however, possessed too much pride to ever admit that he was wrong, and continued to malign the Order. Stupid git.
The final battle was a harsh one. The attack came three days before Christmas in my 7th and final year at Hogwarts. The deatheaters figured that they would have a better chance at storming the castle if the students were gone. They really were stupid. They should have known that what with the war and all that more students, almost the entire student population to be precise, would stay at Hogwarts over break. It was simply too dangerous to go home, and parents didn't want to take the risk.
We had gotten word from a few of our spies (and we had a fair number of them, among them Snape, and surprisingly, Draco Malfoy- it just wasn't his style to bow down to anyone) that there was going to be an attack. The news came on the 20th, leaving us only a few days to prepare. Luckily, all of Dumbledore's Army (which had increased immensly when it became school sponsered) had stayed, and since the holidays were always a likely time for attacks, all members of the Order had been on call. By the 21st, the castle was harboring one of the largest magical armies in history. We were ready.
The attack from the deatheaters came swiftly as they entered the grounds just before dawn on the 22nd. The battle itself lasted only a few hours, as many of the deatheaters had been wounded or killed as soon as they entered the Hogwarts gates, thanks to some nasty traps set by the Weasley twins that were developed to detect and destroy any presence of dark magic. From then on the fighting was intense. The deatheaters didn't go straight for the killing curse, they choose to use more brutal, tortorous spells that would wound horriblly and keep you down. Therein was their mistake. They enjoyed the torture too much to pay attention to what was happening around them, making them easy targets for the trained members of DA and the Order.
I fought Voldemort one on one.There was no other way. It took me awhile to find him, trudging through the sea of fallen black cloaks and the many duels that still lingered on. It was noon before our duel began. I knew that I would never be able to bring him down with only my wand. He was too quick to succumb to a simple killing curse, so I had a surprise in store. We dueled, throwing curses left and right. The entire time he kept mocking me, taunting me about my parent's death, trying to send visions to me of my mother as she fought valiantly to save me. At that moment, I couldn't have been more thankful to Snape for those grueling occlumency lessons, even if i did have to see him in his tightie-whities.
When I thought he was weakened enough, I pulled out my surprise: a Muggle handgun. Thanks to my quick Seeker reflexes, and training in the weapon, I fired a shot right for his heart just as realization dawned in his beady red eyes. Just to be safe, I fired another, and then he was down. Of course, he wasn't dead, he was too poweful. No, the gun was merely a distraction. While he lay bleeding, his blood black and tainted, on the ground, trying desperately to heal his wounds with dark magic, I cast it: Avada Kedavra. He fell limp on sight.
That was it. The war was over, the Wizarding world was safe; but at a cost. Ron never walked again after being hit with a dark version of the leg-locking curse. Professor McGonagall, though a wonderful witch, was weakened so much by the battle that she could no longer teach and could barely move out of bed for nearly a year after the battle. Oliver Wood, who fought in the battle despite not being a member of the DA or the Order, suffered such severe burns and lacerations on his left arm after being tortured by Lucius Malfoy (who had escaped Azkaban), that it had to be amputated. He lost his Quidditch career, but thankfully, not his life, like so many others did. Percy Weasley, Dean Thomas, Fudge (it never was decided which side killed the git), and so many other gave thier lives to save the Wizarding world.
That Christmas was a bittersweet one. We were free. Voldemort was gone, and all the deatheaters has been caught, thanks to wards on the school that prevented any of them from leaving, and sent to Azkaban which now was at the hands of huamn gaurds. But still, there was so much death. So many innocent lives gone. Their absence was tangible in the air at the belated Christmas Feast, which was held on New Years Eve. Professor Dumbledore decided to wait until the Hospital Wing was empty(the more serious cases has been sent to St. Mungo's) so that everybody could attend.
The food was wonderful and the hall was beautiful. There was snow falling softly from the ceiling that would dissipate before it reached the tables, and luscious green bows of holly hung everywhere, along with wreaths that smelled wonderfully of Christmas. But still, the chatter throughout the hall was muffled and laughter was tentative and nervous. As much as we wanted to celebrate, we couldn't. Was it right for us to be happy with so many gone? Was it right to laugh at a joke when the chair next to you was empty? Was it right to kiss under the mistletoe when there were so many people that had lost their lovers? We didn't know. So we simply tried to move on, to start our new lives, without the previously ever present threat of a looming Dark Lord.
Slowly removing myself from my memories, I glanced at the clock, and sighed. 7:22 the digital numbers flashed. I might as well get up.
I rose slowly out of bed, exhausted and trapped in a meloncholy mood, and head to the bathroom for my morning shower. This is what happens everytime I think about that day. It's hard to believe that that was seven years ago. Since then many aspects of my life have changed. I moved into muggle London after I graduated. I needed a break from the world where all I was was The Boy Who Lived. Don't get me wrong, magic is still part of my life, but I work and live among muggles. It's easier this way, being able to walk down the street anonomously. I suppose I took the easy way out. Running away from my past, such a cliched thing to do. But I didn't necessarily run, I just...casually sidestepped my way out of the public eye. I haven't truely abandoned my past, like I said, magic is still a part of my life. I still carry my wand with me wherever I go, and I still visit the Weasleys. The Weasleys of course being Ron and Hermione. They got married shortly after we graduated, making Ron one happy man. After he became crippled and had to be assisted constantly but a wheelchair(a device that thoroughly interested Mr. Weasley due to it's muggle origins), he thought no one would want him. He was thrilled when Hermione proposed. She always was one to take charge.
Speaking of Hermione, I just remembered. I'm supposed to have lunch with her today, she wanted to talk to me about something. Her and Ron are doing really well, Herm's even expecting their first child. They are so happy with each other. It makes me laugh thinking about all the years at school when they refused to admit their feeling for each other. Still, as happy as I am for them, I'm a bit envious. Im 24 years old, and I have never had a meaningful relationship. Ever. I've only ever kissed a handful of people, none of which were very pleasurable experiences. It was just too hard to ever get close to anyone at Hogwarts, with the War and all. Then after everything was over, I just couldn't wait to escape, I didn't care abou anything thing esle. Now though, I get so lonely sometimes. Often times, when I lay in bed at night, I think about what it would be like to have someone laying next to me. What it would be like to have someone who loved me...Ugh!
"Stop thinking about this Harry! You'll only dig yourself deeper into your hole of self-pity." Wow, I think I'm even more lonely than I thought. I'm starting to talk to myself.
I got out of the shower, and shivered from the cold. I hope I remembered to ask Mrs. Marlow, my boss at the second-hand bookstore I work at, for an extended lunch hour. I really should get a remembrall. Herm told me that Neville sells many unique ones at his store in Diagon Alley, Forget-Me-Nots.
Looking in the mirror, I almost cringed at my appearence. Stubble covered face, dark hollow eyes, and wet hair fresh from the shower. I look a mess, only not, because I just took a shower. So, I look a clean mess. I really should start getting some sleep, I'm I could get some dreamless sleep draught somehow. Laughing quietly to myself, I imagine the look on Snape's face if the Boy Wonder just suddenly appeared at his doorstep after seven years of self-exile, asking for a dreamless sleep draught. It would be priceless!
Walking back into the bedroom, I dress quickly in a simple dark green t-shirt and old, worn jeans. Searching for my trainers, I realize I'm going to be late for work if I don't leave in the next two minutes. I race around the room, looking for my shoes. Finally finding them I slip them on, tie them quickly, and run out the door of my tiny three-room flat.
It's only once I'm three blocks away from my flat, and dangerously close to being late, that I realize I've forgotten my wand. Well isn't that just dandy?
Running the last block to Marlow's Treasures of Old, the aforementioned second-hand bookstore, I glance at my watch (at least I remembered to put that on).
I'm late.
Great. Just bloody great.
a/n: Okay, well. This is my first fanfic, though I've been obsessed with fanfic for ages! I plan on continuing this, but encouragement from random people who read it would certainly help. ^_~. I know Harry's character is lacking, but this is mainly just an introduction. More characterization in later chapters. Also, this isn't supposed to be some big meaningful story, its just how I see Harry's life after the war. So, enjoy!