I HEREBY DECLARE THAT THE BOOKS FROM WHICH THE IDEAS AND CHARACTERS WERE EXTRACTED DOES NOT BELONG TO ME AND ALL CREDIT AND OWNERSHIP FOR THESE WONDERFUL FICTIONAL CONCEPTS AND CHARACTERS GO TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, J.K. ROWLING & L.J. SMITH.
THIS BOOK DOES NOT FOLLOW THE ENDING JKR DEVISED FOR THE SEVENTH BOOK. It takes an entirely different storyline
Start
The streets of Diagon Alley was crowded and colourful, full of people of all ages, races and status walking in and out of the magic filled shops and cheerfully friendly people nod greetings at each other, meeting old friends and making new friends.
But that was the past. What seemed like a distant dream to those, 'once smiley faces' that were lying in the streets now rugged and bareboned. They lay their there their eyes cast down and dressed in rags with no food nor water whilst the once few proud sneering faces alone wondered the streets freely, turning up their noses at the lesser.
They were nothing but slaves, unworthy of humanely treatment. They were the lowest of lowest born with the blood that once polluted the wizerding world. Not anymore…oh no! The new minister for magic had seen to that. He had followed every word of his glorified master. The Dark Lord. He had seen to it that the mudbloods were put into their correct places in the wizerding world. They are now slaves; degraded below the status of house elves.
The scream of a young woman's voice cut through the silent no 'respectful' streets of diagon alley, causing the tall well recognized man with pale blonde hair, stop short at the sound and turned towards it.
At seeing a rugged looking (young?) woman being manhandled by a much respectable looking pureblood young man, he shrugged and with a slight sneer curving his lips, continued his way towards the pub across the street ignoring the woman's screams. They were mudbloods and why should he stop the enjoyment of a pureblood. Although he didn't understand why exactly a pureblood would even want to pollute himself by touching a filthy creature such as that.
Outside in the streets the woman struggled against the assaulting hands of the man, unable to find a way to escape him. She felt her back slamming onto a nearby wall and the rags she was wearing were ripped mercilessly in the middle of a street while many watched unable to stop what was happening and others watched enjoying her pain.
She shut her eyes tight, controlling the tears that were threatening to escape. She will not show herself weak. No matter what her position in society she will not give them the satisfaction of knowing they'd weaken her…although perhaps her prominently burning cheeks, her fisted hands and her tightly shut eyes would give away more of her fear and anger than she wished to.
When his hands slid underneath the ragged shirt, her sensibilities gave away to her anger and she tore at his face with her nails but before she could do anymore she felt something hit her head and then………….
………….Everything went black.
A while later
Her eyes opened to get a slightly blurred view of where she was and the first thing she saw was bars. Vertically lined iron bars. She shut her deep cinnamon brown eyes in the hope of clearing her vision before sitting herself up properly and opening them once again, hoping against hope that her earlier actions hadn't brought her to the place she thought she was in. A place she and many other muggleborns dreaded more than the prospect of hell itself.
"Oh god no!..." She murmured biting her lower lip as she realized the truth of her current situation. Her eyes darted around looking at the crowded and absolutely unlivably disgusting atmosphere of the place she was in. It smelled like a sewer, Or rather worse than a sewer.
i "In society they are the lowest of lowest, a position even below the house elves, no luxury shall they benefit from and they should live in no higher place than a sewer…" /i She felt those words ringing through her ears as if it happened a mere minute ago and not over a year ago.
There were lots and lots of people crowded into tiny little cells just like the one she was in right now. They were crammed worst than the way an overloaded storage cupboard would be stored and she wondered how they managed to breath. Thankfully she was the only one in her cell.
She sighed knowing she couldn't escape this chapter of the nightmare that had taken over her life. But it wasn't really a nightmare was it? It was her life and she couldn't just wake up from it and rest her head against her mother's shoulders.
Her eyes teared up at the thought of her beloved mother, whose death she had been forced to watch. She had been forced to endure pain worse than imaginable in watching her mother being raped and killed in front of her eyes.
And the nightmare stretched on and on into the fate that had befallen her since what they believed to be the 'last battle' between the dark lord and the boy-who-lived. And now a new chapter in her world of horrors was unfolding, probably to worsen her situation even more as it had been doing for the last year and a half of her life.
Now she was to be sold to a 'pure blooded' wizerding family and she would be forced to serve them until she is sold again, released or until death takes her into the other world, which she hoped would be soon.
"Of course Minister, we have plenty of 'em here for all kinds of prices!" A proud voice cut through her thoughts and she sat up straight, trying to listen to what was being said.
So the minister of magic was here…..
"Price does not matter to me" A low sneering voice replied.
"We have a lots of well broken in ones..." The first voice added sounding quite gleeful. "Well workable ones too, they are sir, yes they are" He seemed to be rather nervous but wanting to please his buyer anyway.
"They are all supposed to be workable you imbecile" The ministers voice sneered in reply and now she could here the footsteps nearing her cell.
"Oh no sir. That one was just brought in…we don't know what she's like at all. Someone more familiar perhaps……………." The voice trailed off since it received no response and finally the two men came to stand right in front of her cell.
One of the two was hunched and dirty looking, with a cruel narrowed eyes and a scar cutting through his right cheek. He stood a step behind the other man, whom of course couldn't be more familiar to the girl in the cell. She knew that scornful face only too well.
Lucius Malfoy. The minister for magic and Lord Voldermorts most trusted of death eaters; the man who had walked right past her while she was being assaulted by the other pure blood. Of course she hadn't expected him to do much considering he had partaken in deciding their fate too.
Lucius smirked at the sight of the woman he had seen just the day before. After all it wasn't often you see a Pure Blood touch filth and he had indeed wondered why anyone would want to touch that creature so he had naturally remembered her slightly. She did have some strangely familiar looking brown eyes. But he didn't associate himself with mudbloods.
The woman cringed at the sight of him and although she didn't want to appear weak in front of the man who had decreed this existence for her, she couldn't help but shrink back slightly. Oh god….she honestly didn't want to end up in his manor a slave to him and the very alike sneering face of his dear son.
"Hmm……………….I think she'll do" Lucius murmured taking pleasure in knowing that the woman was fazed my him.
Harry's side of things
Beautiful Sandy bays, bright blue skies, palm trees and lots of friendly face. That's what the deep green eyes that stared around saw. This was Carmel. Had he ever been here before? He wondered frowning slightly.
What's his name? He didn't know. He looked to be in his late teens. Probably around 18/19 years old, ready to leave college and go to university perhaps? Had he ever been to college? Well he knew how to write and read so he supposed he did have education. Looks wise he had the most intense green eyes and a ruggedly handsome face. He had a strong lean build. Perhaps he had participated in some kind of sport? His jet black hair stood hanging loosely all over the place rather attractively and he wore circular glasses. But the most prominent feature in his face was the lightning bold shaped scar that marred his forehead but it was mostly concealed by his hair. He looked like any other teenager wondering the streets of Carmel.
But unlike most teenagers, he didn't know who the hell he was!
