Once upon a Time....
The Prologue: A Peculiar Fairy Tale
A slightly hunchbacked and limping pale man with deep-set creases upon his face and a large hook nose ambles slowly towards a large and very worn mahogany desk. The desk is commanding where it sits in the centre of a study laden with books. His face is one that has not aged well, and has never been handsome, debonair, or even charming. Set in the centre of the mans face is a large hooked nose that appears to grow with the man as he ages, a long beard, and longer hair, both tied back with a simple piece of string hang down his chest and back respectively. His hair moves slowly from side to side as he limps to his desk, a familiar path worn into the carpet, a route walked every day near the same time, always by the same man. A man who has the same sneer carved into his face, the jet black eyes always glittering coldly in the mid-morning light. He sits down in the large chair that he favors leans forward, and pulls a new journal out of the drawer on the top right hand side and sighs quietly. The drawer is not locked, and since moving into this home has never been locked. This room is his, and his alone. The Journal is new, and was placed there by himself only the day before. The dust is old, his aged quill, a feather from an old familiar fits perfectly into his hand as he moves to dip it into the new ink well filled now with black ink instead of the red that for many years it contained. Turning the page, the old man slowly begins to write, his thoughts clear and sharp, only the slight shaking of his hand and the slouched over posture give notice to how painful it is to keep the letters straight and in the same spiky font it has, and will continue to be for the man's life. He sits in his chair, and he writes, if not from his heart, then instead from his weary memory.
To begin my story I must first mention that once upon a time, albeit a very, very long time ago, I, so to speak, was normal. I had hopes and dreams both of which faded with the passing of years into only a fraction of what they once were. When these hopes, and these dreams began to fade, I didn't realize it. In fact, I've only recently come to realize that they disappeared at a very young age, and I believe that part of the reason that they initially began to fade was that I've never had a family in the traditional sense of the word. But then again, I never seemed to need a family, as when I realized that they were non-existent, even before their demise I was on my own. After living such a life it has become one of my beliefs that whoever dictated to another that family was key to normalcy either had what they thought to be the perfect family, or was completely deluded. My support lies with the latter.
When I was younger, bitter, and heartbroken I would have loved to have cursed that person had I ever had the opportunity to meet them. Hell, even if I didn't have the opportunity to meet them, I would have most likely tried. Though there was one point in time during which I did dream about having a traditional, loving family, one where hopes and dreams are supported and ultimately achieved, and such achievements were to be joyous celebrations with hugs and smiles, and laughter, oh how I dreamt of laughter. This dream family is the Fairy Tale that every little boy and girl that I have met and had confide in me have already had, or eventually will. Whether it is a constant reminder of the life that one could, or seemingly should have, and in turn desire, or is simply a fleeting thought in a moment of extreme emotion. Those children, a surprising amount of them, and most naive adults who are living a troubled life have and do think about, and hope for with all the powers of their beings are also deluded. Dreams do not come true, at least not if you are the one wearing my shoes.
When it did eventually happen, it didn't happen in the way that I had expected it to, not even when I expected it to. Instead, it happened after several years of anguish, betrayal, self-loathing, sarcasm, and a broken heart that after nearly two decades almost killed me. After my brief, yet terrifying encounter with death, I met her. I met my damsel in distress, she saved me, simply by letting me save her. I don't think that she has, or ever will realize just how much she has come to mean to me. I owe her more than just my life. I owe her more than all of my money, she does not deserve my love. Not that she isn't worthy of it, it is just that my love is not worthy of her. And while this is true she has won it, and appears to be happy to have, and continue to be the only keeper of it. My heart has never beaten faster than the first time that I heard her whisper her love for me into my left ear, the ear that she to this very day continues to whisper all of her secrets into.
And even though I fear that she is soon to pass, and I in turn I fear that I will be unable to tell her any great part of my story of this until it is far too late, and her soul is already among the others that leave this world for wherever they head next, this is what she deserves. She deserves the truth. She deserves to hear it from me. Instead, I can only hope that I will be finished my account, and she will have the time to read it before she dies. After that point, I will finish my story. I will write my final letter, I will send away this journal, the entirety of which will consist of the events in my life from the beginning until the end.
This story will be unedited, uncensored, and, if my wishes are upheld, unpublished. This story, will start as soon as you the reader flip the page. Do not skip to the end, do not skip any of the pages. There will be no quiz, no points taken from your house, no curses cast upon yourself if you do. Yes, it is possible for you to go back. That is not the point. The point is to discover how I have lived, loved, dreamt, tortured myself and others, and how with one single event I, the dreaded potions master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry changed. This is my Fairy Tale, and we shall both have to see whether or not it has a happy ending. And at which point all of this has been completed my once upon a time, complete with happily ever after, will come to a shuddering halt. Bluntly put, I will die.
S. Snape