~For Chels~
Running. Running faster and faster. Where was she running? What was she running from, or what was she running to? She didn't know she just had to run.
She ran until she could run no more, then suddenly, in front of her was the tallest, most eerie, yet most familiar castle she had ever seen. She had been here before. Walking inside, she found the place to be deserted.
Or so she thought.
"Excellent, how wonderful of you to join me."
The girl whipped around to stand face to face to the most feared wizard of her time, though she couldn't tell just by looking at him. He had the appearance of any normal teenage boy his age, though he would most likely stand out amongst them. He was beautiful. Pure perfection, and grace. She knew him, but she didn't want to know him. ~*~ Sixteen year old Eliza Dishque shot up in bed, breathing heavy, sweat pouring down her face. This wasn't the first dream she had had of this mysterious stranger. She knew him only in dreams, only in memories. Distant memories. Memories of love, memories of lost love, memories of pain. Most of all memories of him. Who was he? What did he want? And why must he haunt her dreams every night?
She glanced over at the clock on her dresser. 4:23. She still had another 3 hours before she had to get up, but she knew she would never sleep now. Slowly, she rolled out of the bed and started to the bathroom.
As she made her way down the stairs her thoughts began to wander back to him. At first she thought it was just some dream guy that her mind had made up. She saw him as the perfect man, the one she would spend forever with, grow old with. But as time progressed he became more of a danger. A warning sign almost. A warning of things to come.
Her father always said "History repeats itself. It's constant circle. The life you're living now, has already, in some way, been lived by another."
Could it be that she was reliving someone else's memories? Was he more than just a dream? ~*~ Hundreds of miles away a young boy with a peculiar lightening bolt scar on his forehead and round glasses, was also waking after another particularly frightening dream. About his mother, again.
Of course, this boy had never known his mother, so how could he possibly be dreaming about her? A woman whom he only had photographs of to prove her existence. What was the point in dreaming of things that were lost? Things forgotten.
That was, after all, what his mother was. One of the lost, and forgotten. Known now only in the history books.
She had died for him. He often thought of this. He often dreamed of this. Her death, it constantly plagued his mind, haunted his steps. The strange thing was that these dreams almost never included his father. He had died that same night, why was he constantly left out?
"HARRY POTTER!" A deep voice boomed from downstairs.
"Oh, great." Harry mumbled, jumping up quickly and heading down the stairs.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"
"You've slept long enough, you do have chores to do you know! When you live under my roof you live under my rules! Do you understand?"
"Yes sir." Harry walked into the kitchen to begin his daily chores. 'Thank God I'm leaving for school in a week.' he thought as he picked up the rag and began the dishes. ~*~
Eliza had spent nearly the whole morning out on her deck, listening to absolutely nothing, watching for absolutely nobody, when finally her mother walked out to tell her to come in or she'd "catch her death of cold" as her mother so nicely worded it.
Her family now sat around the table, eating breakfast, as is family tradition. Get up at 7, breakfast at 7:30. Leave for work or school at 8. Her father had been in the military, everything was routine.
But today there was a nervous feeling in the air. Nervous and timid. Something this family had never been before.
"'Liza, dear, there's something we've been meaning to tell you for some time now, but we just haven't gotten around to it." her mother began the infamous speech.
Eliza knew it before the words were even out of her mouth. They were moving. Again.
"Where to this time?" she asked suddenly, before her mother could finish.
"England. You're father has been reassigned. But there's something else we should tell you."
Eliza waited expectantly. Her mother looked at her father, the both looked very unsure of how to put this. Whatever "this" was.
"Who died?" Eliza asked jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. It worked for the time being as her father let out a chuckle and her mother just smiled.
"You've been accepted into a very. how should I put this, special school." her father started.
"But I didn't apply to any 'special' school. I didn't even know we were moving to England." Eliza was becoming very confused.
"Well, you don't have to apply for this school. You see it's a school for wizards, and witches."
"WHAT?" Eliza exclaimed. She was now completely lost. What this some sort of joke. Her parents thought she was a witch?
"You see hun, there are such things are witches and wizards. And you've been invited to come study at the most prestigious of all the schools. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Running. Running faster and faster. Where was she running? What was she running from, or what was she running to? She didn't know she just had to run.
She ran until she could run no more, then suddenly, in front of her was the tallest, most eerie, yet most familiar castle she had ever seen. She had been here before. Walking inside, she found the place to be deserted.
Or so she thought.
"Excellent, how wonderful of you to join me."
The girl whipped around to stand face to face to the most feared wizard of her time, though she couldn't tell just by looking at him. He had the appearance of any normal teenage boy his age, though he would most likely stand out amongst them. He was beautiful. Pure perfection, and grace. She knew him, but she didn't want to know him. ~*~ Sixteen year old Eliza Dishque shot up in bed, breathing heavy, sweat pouring down her face. This wasn't the first dream she had had of this mysterious stranger. She knew him only in dreams, only in memories. Distant memories. Memories of love, memories of lost love, memories of pain. Most of all memories of him. Who was he? What did he want? And why must he haunt her dreams every night?
She glanced over at the clock on her dresser. 4:23. She still had another 3 hours before she had to get up, but she knew she would never sleep now. Slowly, she rolled out of the bed and started to the bathroom.
As she made her way down the stairs her thoughts began to wander back to him. At first she thought it was just some dream guy that her mind had made up. She saw him as the perfect man, the one she would spend forever with, grow old with. But as time progressed he became more of a danger. A warning sign almost. A warning of things to come.
Her father always said "History repeats itself. It's constant circle. The life you're living now, has already, in some way, been lived by another."
Could it be that she was reliving someone else's memories? Was he more than just a dream? ~*~ Hundreds of miles away a young boy with a peculiar lightening bolt scar on his forehead and round glasses, was also waking after another particularly frightening dream. About his mother, again.
Of course, this boy had never known his mother, so how could he possibly be dreaming about her? A woman whom he only had photographs of to prove her existence. What was the point in dreaming of things that were lost? Things forgotten.
That was, after all, what his mother was. One of the lost, and forgotten. Known now only in the history books.
She had died for him. He often thought of this. He often dreamed of this. Her death, it constantly plagued his mind, haunted his steps. The strange thing was that these dreams almost never included his father. He had died that same night, why was he constantly left out?
"HARRY POTTER!" A deep voice boomed from downstairs.
"Oh, great." Harry mumbled, jumping up quickly and heading down the stairs.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"
"You've slept long enough, you do have chores to do you know! When you live under my roof you live under my rules! Do you understand?"
"Yes sir." Harry walked into the kitchen to begin his daily chores. 'Thank God I'm leaving for school in a week.' he thought as he picked up the rag and began the dishes. ~*~
Eliza had spent nearly the whole morning out on her deck, listening to absolutely nothing, watching for absolutely nobody, when finally her mother walked out to tell her to come in or she'd "catch her death of cold" as her mother so nicely worded it.
Her family now sat around the table, eating breakfast, as is family tradition. Get up at 7, breakfast at 7:30. Leave for work or school at 8. Her father had been in the military, everything was routine.
But today there was a nervous feeling in the air. Nervous and timid. Something this family had never been before.
"'Liza, dear, there's something we've been meaning to tell you for some time now, but we just haven't gotten around to it." her mother began the infamous speech.
Eliza knew it before the words were even out of her mouth. They were moving. Again.
"Where to this time?" she asked suddenly, before her mother could finish.
"England. You're father has been reassigned. But there's something else we should tell you."
Eliza waited expectantly. Her mother looked at her father, the both looked very unsure of how to put this. Whatever "this" was.
"Who died?" Eliza asked jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. It worked for the time being as her father let out a chuckle and her mother just smiled.
"You've been accepted into a very. how should I put this, special school." her father started.
"But I didn't apply to any 'special' school. I didn't even know we were moving to England." Eliza was becoming very confused.
"Well, you don't have to apply for this school. You see it's a school for wizards, and witches."
"WHAT?" Eliza exclaimed. She was now completely lost. What this some sort of joke. Her parents thought she was a witch?
"You see hun, there are such things are witches and wizards. And you've been invited to come study at the most prestigious of all the schools. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."