Trusting Destiny | Love In the Deepest of Sorrows
"I looked around the deep hollow room. There was a scheduled meeting today. The Order had called for an unexpected uprising of Zombies on the west of the Northern Lands. It seems like they have been influenced by an overwhelming strength of exorcism and devil worship. There were named Devils, as it was in many muggle references which stretched to an almost too extreme extent. In the human world, they were named after the title given by muggles who believed in the godlike opposing figure, who would reference the dark, bad side. However, in reality, although the muggles will never be able to discover, the so called devils were the remains, the final figments that were released after the death of the Dark Lord. These omnipresence beings were haunting, although they cannot kill, they can possess things and control them, much like an imperius curse, but a lot more powerful. And it seemed like they were focusing on the living death.
These so called Devils are deadly. They can kill, they can control the mind, and they can drive someone to ultimate insanity. You would be lucky if you survived a devil working itself in to your being, your existence, your soul; it takes control of everything you are. Zombies, as they are known, are beings that were rejected to live another life in heaven, having to remain in the world as half-alive beings, never being able to live a proper life, and having to sustain the pain and sadness of being such a creature. Basically, they were harmless creatures that wished of self regret, that felt the full course of self lament, and the least possible, the absolute bare minimum of self respect. But with the existence of the remains of Voldemort inside them, they can be a lot more powerful, and have the ability to kill. The darkness and anger of the Dark lord had been transferred to these beings. And being influenced and inspired, they have let their minds take the best of them.
The latest news was that a group of Zombies had taken attack on the Ministry, braking in, killing almost 30 wizards that were working on the department of law enforcement and the department of care and welfare of magical creatures. The Auror department had decided it had come to the time to destroy these Zombies, which was virtually impossible. They only way we can stop these creatures from causing any further damage was to have to perform an anti-exorcism, which would need to attendance of a priest of some sort. Voldemort had ventured past the dark magic of Hocruxes; this was a deeper, more extreme length in to the veins of dark magic that anyone has ever ventured into.
To activate such a spell would be unbelievable, yet he had done it. He was not named the Dark Lord for nothing. The spell had safe keepers, much like locations of secret areas, such as uncovered secretes of the meetings of the prieuré de l'ivoire. The Dark Lord must have infiltrated the protection of the prieuré de l'ivoire. They Priory was hidden, it was almost impeccably unsettling to find out that The Dark Lord had managed to take the secret away from them. How could anyone do that? He would not be able to imperious a member of the Priory, no one knows any of the members in the group, their identities were covered, the Ministry itself had tried to uncover the whereabouts of the monastery as well, but were unsuccessful. He could not have put a death eater in to the group, he would never be able to find them and have someone be a spy.
If you haven't have understood, the prieuré de l'ivoire were a monastery formed in the old ages. It had been founded on the lands of Ivory, far to the east, near the Durmstrang Institute. But that was years ago. They held the biggest of secrets. The secret's of Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, everything. Even more, they knew of the start of dark magic. Some say they were the pioneer force in halting the progress of the dark arts. They knew secrets we would possibly never know. Some say the founder of the Priory was in the brotherhood of elders, which ultimately meant that the priory was unreachable, they were impossible to find. You must be of previous priory accent to know of their hiding place.
The thing was if the Zombies were able to piece together, they would recreate Voldemort. He was still not completely dead. But they needed something, something that would have to be present to recreate Voldemort. The Resurrection Stone was not the only stone that had strong assets in the wizarding world. Although, unknown to people, there was another powerful stone that had the power to resurrect a being. All that was needed was a figment of this person. It had to be something alive, so if one was dying, yet one's heart was still working, this stone could mend the body. And this stone had been banished away from the lands, the Government afraid of the power it possesses.
Long time ago, this Stone was cast away, banished, exiled. Carried by a good soul who would never be able to return to the wizarding world, the stone was given to an old human tribe, being passed along centuries, from new civilisations to new modern, sophisticated areas, this stone, although unknown by many in the wizarding world, was known so well in the human muggle world. It had become a monument, a testament of the past. You see, this has surpassed the dangers, the barriers that the wizards of old have come to create. If this unwilling secret gets out, the hunt for this object would be disastrous. It would create damage the mortal world. And at a more serious cost, it would blow the cover of wizards. This goes past all moral beliefs. The Zombies were looking for the Rosetta stone."
I woke up with a blast. I was afraid, if not scared by my dream. I knew it was false, but ever since the realization of the revamp of death eaters attacks on mortal areas, I have been getting more and more worried and protective of those who I love. I knew my mum would be a target; the very women who betrayed them, the one who claimed that the Boy Who Lived was not dead at all.
And after that, they would come for me. The young prodigy that betrayed the dark lords wishes. The very one that went undercover, helping the enemies that claimed to love. Little did they know it was doing it for my mother, to make sure she was not harmed at the end?
I was a coward; my normally confident self, wrapped in entelechy and obedience, the very same ostentatious character that used to complain about the very inward and unnoticeable variables in life. Maybe I was wrong. And I knew I was. Never facing the facts, hiding under the shadow of the man I used to call a father, looking towards all his ideological ideas and never having my own opinions. Yes, that was my previous life. The self-consumed shell of the life I lived now.
Life has been fair for me these past years being honoured for being the boy that helped the Golden trio in the adventures to destroy the Hocruxes that seem so inevitably undefeatable. I was the one who knew all the secret passageways in to my own manor, the place I called home for 18 years. The same place I saved my love from dying by the hands of Bellatrix. I had killed the serpent. I had barely escaped, and it made me a fiend to the dark lord. I was a foe, a traitor, and they were out to get me.
I'm still the rich, stuck up prick from Hogwarts, but I have become much more as well. I was head auror in the Auror Department of the Ministry Of Magic, alongside Potter himself. I was under the orders of the Minister, Kingsley Shakleblot, and I have helped stop attacks on the many multiple peninsulas of the west coast. The Dark Forces never end. They continue to rise. We have just slowed the down. Killing the leader never meant winning. We were still under the penetration of death eaters. Only last week did Beatrice Capra, the head of Care Of Magical Creatures had been assassinated along with her many staff member in his own office.
I heard my floor rattle with a squeak, as it opened silently, showing a dark figure that embedded the doorway. The shadow sat next to me, comforting me with her calm condolences. It was only around a half hour later did I begin to stop crying, and the clothes that Hermione had worn were soaked through, as if the rain and thunder from the outside had swept in.
Maybe they are right. Even in the darkest times, the most subtle thing counts. Even when something as horrific as zombies comes to haunt you, all you need is a helping hand, s sign of love, and gratitude of accomplishment. Trusting destiny was the only way to go. A trusting love is a path you have to choose by yourself.