Aquarius Prophecy - I
Privet Drive…rain tumbled down on the perfect cookie-cutter houses like the heavens were crying out in pain. It was mid-summer, humid and warm outside. But the chilling rain felt like needles dripping down onto the ever so slightly waving blades of grass within perfectly mowed lawns. The tiny droplets from the clouds acted as though they were trying to soothe a crying child's agony, like a mother's touch. From inside – through the quiet, lightless halls – one would swear they could hear the ocean's song whispering to them.
The mail box outside read "Dursley" but the rain could care less about the pudgy, stuck up family that rattled the house as they snored more than the thunder and lightning could ever hope to do. No, it was calling to the boy in the hand-me-down room on the second floor. The one with the scar on his head and the gently cooing owl in the corner – the one called Harry Potter.
He was in cold sweat, eyes tightly shut with his teeth grinding together. On his back, with his photo album filled with moving pictures of his friends at his side, he seemed to gasp for air in panic. His hand clutched at the moth bitten sheets that lay over his pale body and a gentle, pain-filled moan escaped his lips. These nightmares came all too often. He was use to such visions now. But this one he could almost…feel. The things he saw, the things his senses picked up and the one that didn't seem as though he should be there. But yet, like a stain he was there and he wouldn't go away.
This wasn't the first time he had seen this enigma before – pale hair like the Malfoy's, but almost as if it were graced with the moonlight's gentle touch. Eyes, as blue and cold as the unwavering, unforgiving seas but filled with such sorrow it nearly brought tears to Harry's eyes. And skin so lifeless he was like a ghost. This enigma seemed present in nearly ever dream since he had returned from Hogwarts a mere month ago. But the odd thing was…the dreams weren't really dreams. They were his memories. Everything he had seen or experienced before in all his years of attending the famed Wizarding School seemed to be rushing back like a tsunami. But the only difference was, the enigma was always there. Never aging, never changing, just…there, like a phantom. From the moment Cedric Diggory had been murdered to the first time he ever met his two best friends on the Hogwart's Express - he was there.
Harry felt no fear from this man. Not like he did when Voldemort showed up in his mind. Or when he had memories of the Deatheaters and all the horrid things they did to him and his friends came back to him. He felt as though he had known him all his life. Like Ron and Hermione, he wasn't a threat, he was a friend. At least, that was how Harry felt. The one thing he did find strange was how, in Harry's darkest memories of death and pain, this nameless stranger always seemed to be the one who died in his visions. He remembered the time when Sirius Black – his godfather – had been murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange but when that memory came flooding back to him, it was the enigma who had died, not Sirirus. In fact, Sirius hadn't even been there.
Tonight – he was brought back to his fifth year at Hogwarts, actually before he had left for Hogwarts. It was in the summer, in the park, around midday. In reality, his cousin Dudley and his bullying friends had been there. But in this moment of remembrance, he was alone. The sky was growing dark and the clouds overhead were stirring and roaring with a taste for blood. Before he knew it, he was running. The rain poured down, trying to swallow him in a tidal wave. He ran for cover in an underground passage, taking a deep – yet quickly interrupted – breath of relief. But his sweet sigh was quickly taken away, just like he rememebered. The lights flickered, the thunder roared. He knew what was coming, this time he knew he could be prepared but his hand just wouldn't move away from his side to grab his wand. The dementors were coming! They would kill him! But he still couldn't move his hand. No matter how much he tried to alter the way this memory would play out, he couldn't.
Suddenly, he saw a flash of the stranger before him, in the entrance of the underground tunnel. His back was to him, and his arms were lifting upward. Then he was gone, just like that. The lights flickered madly in the tunnel and Harry felt unease as his eyes tried to focus on what was happening.
"Save me…"
Harry's eyes widened. What appeared to be the enigma looking at him was replaced with the form of a speeding dementor who completely took Harry by surprise. It lifted him from the ground, his back was instantly against the wall and his life was being sucked from his face. Then, he looked to his right. And there he was again. His pain filled eyes stared back at Harry. He was lying where Dudley had been in actual moment in time, upon the cold and wet ground, with a dementor hovering above him with his hand upon his lifeless body.
Harry felt like breaking down and crying. What was it about this man that made him feel as though his very soul had been ripped out?
As the silver haired enigma looked at Harry, he smiled….
Panic struck, Harry didn't even realize his soul actually was being ripped out by the dementor that was before him. He watched as the vivid stranger faded away from him. Turning to ash and floating away into the rain soaked winds. It almost looked as though he was happy that this was to be his fate. Harry suddenly felt ill, his eyes glazed over and all went black as he felt the dementor clutch onto what little life he still held close. And as the blackness over-took him, he only heard one simple word.
"Please….?"
And then he opened his eyes. Harry felt the cold sweat tumble down his face in unison with the raindrops outside. It was still dark out, still cold and damp. He didn't even bother to put his glasses on his face. His scar tingled a bit on his head but he was in too much shock to even care. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure a bit and then he closed his blue, teary eyes gently. He was beginning to wonder what this all meant. At first, he just brushed it aside, but now it was beginning to worry him. But all the ones he could turn to were either gone or very far away. Another feeling he was quite used to came back to him. But this time it hit him hard. He broke down and just cried, but his whimpering was drowned out by the sound of the torrential rain outside.
He was alone…
