Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Long since Lord Voldemort had killed the Potters and won the war, only pure- and halfbloods were permitted to attend Hogwarts. After his parents being tortured into insanity, Neville nearly escaped death and was found and raised by his grandmother in Germany. Now known as Connor Stein, a halfblood graduate of the german school Drakenfels, he embroils on a journey of revenge, lies and deceit. Caught in the political web of Britains society, he finds himself drawn to the enigma of one Arcturus Lestrange.
Hey! This is my first fic, so I don't believe anyone will even look at it but here's to hoping! Enjoy.
Chapter one:
The young man grimaced, pushing through the crowd in Diagon Ally, wondering what all the people were doing in bright daylight. Didn't they have work to do? Grimacing, he nearly avoided crashing into a couple, as they talked agitatedly to one another.
„We have to hurry, if we want to get to the apothecary before the book signing", the tall man told his wife, while checking the time on his pocket watch. He was dressed in rich clothes and the dark brown hair was brushed back, neatly out of the clean cut features. Rings decorated his fingers, one of them revealing him as a pureblooded wizard.
Connor narrowed his eyes on the trinket in the mans hands. The silver pocket watch looked like it cost a fortune with it's richly decorations and engravings. How many homeless and orphans could one feed with something like this? Pushing such thoughts aside, he pressed forward through them, making the pair take a step back from each other. Both stumbled and fixated the young man accusingly.
„H-Hey-", the pureblood man gasped startled.
His expression instantly changed, as his face contorted in disgust, sweeping down the length of the young mans body. He sneered. „Watch it next time, boy."
Connor snorted. He knew his mere appearance was offending the man in front of him and didn't care about it one bit. Ashen hair fell into his dark eyes, as he turned his back to the two Purebloods, just carrying on. He felt two pairs of eyes follow him before he rounded a corner. Sighing, he came to a halt looking into the reflection of a shop window.
A shabby cloak was draped around his shoulders, concealing most of the lanky body. His clothes were torn at some places and badly patched together. Dust seemed to follow the young man wherever he went, even settling on his face. Two fathomless black holes stared back at him.
Connor marveled how they seemed to suck in all the light around him. Usually people had a sparkle to their eyes, making them lively. Distinctive. His seemed to lack this specific feature. The young man really looked scrawny and neglected with his hollow cheeks and bags under the eyes. He seemed younger than his actual twenty-one years.
Sneering one last time at his pathetic reflection, Connor continued along, until he finally reached his destination: Flourish and Blotts.
He usually avoided any shops in Diagon Ally, as they were well-attended. Today though ... today was a mess. If he had found it hard to avoid any crowds it was nearly impossible now. A cluster of people mingled in front of the square leading to the book store. Cameras were flashing and Connor craned his neck, trying to find out what all the fuss was about.
The closer the young man got to the centre of attention, the dizzier he began to feel. He never had felt like this in his whole life. His body began to tremble and he stumbled onward light-headed.
„Thank you all for coming", a loud voice raised above the chatter, pounding into his brain like a hammer. What ... what was wrong with him? Connor blinked and tried to shake his head, casting away the dizziness.
„It is my pleasure to announce the new opening of the shop 'Magical Relics and Artefacts' here in Diagon Alley! Please welcome with me our dear Minister of Magic, Lord Voldemort and his heir Arcturus Lestrange!"
The breath caught in his throat at the last name mentioned. The crowd began the clap eagerly as the people finally parted, offering him a gap to assess the scene before him. A red ribbon was strapped around the new shop. The facade stood in direct contrast to the rest of the buildings around it. It was pitch black and the entrance was richly decorated in gold and red tones. Connor was instantly reminded of one of these high class establishments you couldn't even afford to step into.
Wiping his sweaty palm on his worn out trousers, his attention was caught by a chunky man with a long goatee and bald head. Silver cheater-glasses were sitting on his nose, blinking merrily in the sun. He stood behind a pedestal in front of the shop, grinning happily and eventually Connor realized, why the people had parted ahead of him.
A shiver ran down his back, not entirely unpleasant. The air seemed to grow thicker as the dazed feeling began to amplify tenfold. Connor felt as if he was in a movie, everything seemed to move slower in a split of a second.
"He is so handsome ..."
"D-Do you think he will give me an autograph?"
"It's really him!"
The people around him seemed to get anxious as the minister approached somewhere behind him. Connor had never seen the man in person, only pictures in the Daily prophet. Frankly, he was not interested in politics.
The crowd formed an aisle for someone to walk through and Connor barely kept his eyes open, grabbing his head.
As the minister slowly approached, the young man looked over his shoulder to asses the tall frame of the man, coming into sight.
Black hair streaked with grey flattered the man, who didn't look older than fifty. It was bound at the nape of his neck, revealing aristocratic cut features and a pale face. He seemed to favor black dress robes with silver buckles and green embroidery decorating his sleeves. A silver brooch was pinned onto his vest, showing a snake. She seemed to slither around the letter M caressing it lovingly with her tongue. Connor knew the symbol all too well … 'Magic is Might' was the statement it accompanied. It stood for everything he detested. The reign of the pureblood over everyone.
It had been twenty years … twenty years to that fateful day when Lord Voldemort had killed the Potters and not many months later, shattered the last defenses of Hogwarts. Twenty years since he had killed Albus Dumbledore. Since than, the Dark Lord had declared himself the Minister of Magic, enacting his rule over Britain and strengthening his hold ever since. Luckily for him, the surrounding countries turned a blind eye to Britains' struggle. Muggleborns were prohibited to enter Hogwarts, instead, they had to flee the countries, not only to receive an education, but also to escape The Hunt.
As he himself was a baby, his grandmother had fled the country to Germany. It took him more than fifteen years for her to tell him about his past and where his parents were. A woman named Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured them into insanity. Everyone believed she had killed him as a mere infant. But he had survived. No one knew, Neville Longbottom was still breathing.
Augusta, his grandmother, had raised him as a Halfblood named Connor Stein. As soon as he had finished school and against her wishes, he had moved to Britain. You might call it a cliché but he had but one goal in his life: Finding and killing Bellatrix Lestrange, the right hand woman of the Minister of Magic himself.
Now, her son so casually being thrown into his face, a mere mockery of fate itself, made his intestines freeze. He was still dizzy, mind you, but he only had eyes on the young man following after Lord Voldemort: His heirArcturus Black.