A/N: Anyone up for a foray into AU? Good, because this story was started before HBP and is decidedly AU, as you will see within the first chapter. The story is partly complete and I have ideas about what will happen, so I have a vision of where this is going. I hope you enjoy the first installment and continue to read my little foray into the HP world.
Disclaimer: Not rich enough to own this.
Fate. It's such a funny thing. It rules our lives, our hearts, our bodies, and our souls. It changes what should never be into what feels most right and perfect in the world. The dark and the light of what is and what can never be turn into a blend of the two when fate gets involved. It changes the way we think, the way we reason, and the way we behave. It changes our allies, and it changes our enemies, and it redefines our friends. Whenever fate is concerned, we grow stronger and better through whatever hell it throws our way. And sometimes, on rare occasions, it tosses a gift into our laps. The only thing that fate asks of us is to open our eyes and accept the good with the bad.
Everyone's been told about fate, some believe in it, and others don't. I for one am someone that doesn't often believe, but on occasion, fate decides to remind me of its existence. Tonight was one of those nights. The darkness that shrouds me now as I sit huddled in my cloak on a bench is nothing compared to the darkness in my soul, but my soul would be considered as bright as the sun compared to his. Well, then again, anyone's soul would be considered that of a saint's compared to his soul. So, the fact that my soul is light compared to his really says nothing about the state that I find my self in currently.
I stare into the night, wishing I were anywhere but here, wishing that everything was different. That what had just happened was some huge nightmare. But, as I said, fate chose today, or should I say tonight, to remind me of its horrific, twisted, and vindictive existence. My heart twists as a picture of earlier flashes through my mind.
A tall girl stood, leaning against a desk on the front row in a dark, cold dungeon class room. On the stone desk next to her sat a large box. She was starting to get impatient. He had told her to be here twenty minutes ago, and, "don't be late." Yet, here she was, leaning against the stone desk, waiting for him to show his hooked nose to the world.
A soft tapping was heard at the door, and the girl looked up as an old wizened man in midnight blue robes walked in.
"Miss Granger?" The wizard looked surprised at seeing the girl in the room. "What are you doing here?"
"Professor Dumbledore!" The girl seemed to be in shock at seeing the old man walk in. "I was waiting for Professor Snape, sir. He asked me to be here twenty minutes ago with some potions ingredients from Professor Sprout, but when I arrived, the classroom was empty, and the door to his office was locked."
The old man nodded. He had a pensive expression on his face, as if deciding what to do, or what to say, next.
"Miss Granger, come with me." The man walked out of the room, expecting the girl to follow, which she did after retrieving the box with potions supplies in it. They walked through the drafty, poorly lit hall and up into the main hall of the castle before sweeping up the stairs and stopping before an old, stone gargoyle. "Peppermint sticks." The password muttered, the stone gargoyle jumped to life and revealed a spiral staircase into a circular room. Once the pair entered the large room at the top of the case, the older wizard walked behind the heavy, elaborately carved wooden desk and seated himself in the large chair, gesturing for the girl to do the same thing. She sat in a large, plush chair, nerves on end, perceptibly aware that something was wrong.
"Miss Granger, before I say anything, I need you to promise me you won't say a word of this to anyone, not even to Misters Potter and Weasley. Can you promise me that?"
The girl looked at the professor, trying to decide if she really wanted to know something she couldn't tell her best friends. "I promise. I won't tell anyone."
The man looked at her, his twinkling blue eyes into her honey-brown ones. Seeming satisfied with what he saw, he nodded.
"Miss Granger, I need you help."
The girl stared at the man in front of her. "Professor, why would you ask for my help?"
"Because, you're the only one that can save him."
"Save him? Save who?"
"I wish I could tell you who he is, but I can't."
"Then, can you tell me who, or what, I am supposed to save him from?"
"I need you to save him from Voldemort, and himself. Miss Granger, a man's life is at stake, and I fear it's my fault. I can't tell you more, I wish I could. Miss Granger, please, will you help me?"
"When you say 'save him from Voldemort' what exactly do you mean?" The girl asked after remaining pensively silent for several minutes.
"As I said Miss Granger, I can't tell you anything more. However, I must reiterate that an innocent man's life is at stake."
The girl's eyes flashed dangerously, her obvious will to live and love of life causing her to become aggressive as his subtle words clicked in her head. "You sent an innocent man to death?"
"I'm afraid you are correct. Though I'm not proud of it, I may well have sent this man to a brutal death at the hands of Voldemort. However, if he survives tonight, I fear that he will need to be saved from himself." The man stared into the distance, lost in another world. His strong voice lowered, as if talking to himself, "Although, he has promised me many times that he would not take his life, somehow, I don't believe him. I can't believe him. Poor boy, doesn't even believe his life is worth saving." The man exhaled a long breath filled with regret, sorrow, and deep pain, before he turned to face the girl once more. "Please, Miss Granger, if he returns tonight, will you save him from himself?"
Slowly, as if weighing her options, the girl nodded. "After all you have told me tonight, how could I not?"
"Thank you Miss Granger, you have no idea how much this means to me."
The girl gave a weak smile. "Professor, one last question, how am I going to help this man when I don't even know his name?"
"When he returns this evening, I will send an owl to you. More will be revealed then."
The girl's eyes narrowed sharply, but she nodded in acquiesce. "If that's all Headmaster, I have school work that needs attending to." The Headmaster nodded before the girl stood and left the office.
A short time later, she entered a small room. It wasn't spacious or lavish, furnished only with a four poster bed, a desk and matching chair, a small bookcase, and a wardrobe. There was little space to walk; the furniture filled most of the room. Deep red velvet curtains fell around the bed. They looked well used; the curtains on the bed's left side, the side facing the window, were still closed from when the sun was first out that morning. The bookcase was filled with well worn volumes, ranging in title from Moste Potente Potions to Philosophy: A Guide to Greater Knowledge to James II: A Study in Kingship. More books were found on the desk along with stacks of scrolls, several bottles of ink filled to various levels, some quills, and a piece of stale bread.
The girl sat down, shrugging off her black robes, and pulled a book to her as she lifted a quill from the cluttered desk. Flipping pages of the book, she dipped her quill in a bottle of ink and pulled a roll of parchment off the top of the stack. Having found the page she was looking for, the girl flicked her eyes over the parchment before placing her quill on the parchment and returning to the book. Methodically, the girl took notes from the book, pausing only to turn a page or dip her quill into the ink. The room was silent except for the sounds of her breathing and note taking. The precise handwriting on the page grew into narrow, perfectly spaced lines traveling down the parchment with information the girl deemed important.
A soft tap sounded at the window, causing her to falter a moment as she turned the page. She paused, trying to decide if she had actually heard something. Shaking her head, she returned to the book.
TAP! TAP!
The girl looked up. This time, she couldn't deny that she had heard something. Gently placing her quill on the table, she closed her book and crossed to the windows. It was raining outside, causing whatever was outside her window to blur. As soon as the window opened, an owl flew in, spraying the girl with water droplets. Shaking her head, the girl walked to her chair where the snow grey owl was holding out its leg. As soon as she had untied the letter, the owl flew back through the window and into the dark, rainy night.
However, the girl hadn't even noticed the owl's departure. As soon as she had the letter free, she had begun reading it. The few lines on the page were followed by Professor Dumbledore's intricate signature at the bottom. The girl grabbed a long, heavy black cloak from her wardrobe and threw it over her shoulders as she hurried from the small room.
She walked stealthily down the hall, urgency nagging her the entire way. Opening the main doors as quietly as she could, she stepped outside. The rain had lessened since earlier that day, but the girl was still immediately soaked to the bone as she closed the castle doors. Her unruly brown hair was sopping, the brown locks curling into tight, springy ringlets. She ran down the path that began at the base of the steps, pulling her hood over her head in a futile attempt to stay dry. The darkness enveloped her in its silence as she rushed to meet the headmaster, as she rushed to aid a man that had almost killed another human through an act of folly she would never understand, could never understand.
The old man looked up from his position on the ground as she neared his crouching form. This night, the twinkle she had always seen in his eyes was missing. It was replaced with a look of desperation, a look of pure hopelessness, and, though it shocked her to the core, a look of resignation. Resignation to whatever pains the world and, though she had yet to recognize it as such, fate threw at him.
"Miss Granger."
"Headmaster." She inclined her head slightly, annoyed at the waste of time on formalities when a man's life was possibly on the line.
The man gestured with his hand to the left, to a dark mass on the ground. "This, Miss Granger, is your charge." She glanced at the form on the ground. It was clothed in black from head to toe. Where should have been a face, was a mask of ghastly silver, with two slits for eyeholes and a small circular hole that was barely visible for breathing.
The girl let out a small, almost inaudible, gasp and huddled farther into her cloak. "A Death Eater?"
The man shook his head. "No, Miss Granger, an ex-Death Eater. He is a man that risks everything, including his life, in order to gain information for our cause. A man that, if we don't help soon, could die here and now, all alone in this the world."
Dumbledore's words spurred the girl's mind into action, her promise to help save this man returned to her mind forcefully. She knelt next to the man and reached into her pocket. She drew out a long piece of wood. Muttering words beneath her breath, she brought the hand holding the wand up until it was parallel to the ground. As her wand moved up, the still form on the ground raised into the air until it was level with her hand. After another muttered word, the witch took a step forward, a step back toward the castle.
"Miss Granger."
"Headmaster?"
"Where are you taking him?"
"Back to the castle. Where else?"
"I don't know." The girl glanced sharply at him. What had happened to the steadfast man she had known the last six and half years? "Miss Granger?" She stopped a few steps from where she had been the first time he uttered her name, an audible sigh following the second delay.
"Yes, Headmaster?"
"Don't take him to the hospital wing."
"Yes, sir."
She took another step toward the castle, pausing to make sure that the aged man was finished, and then set off at a fast pace, the body floating beside her, and a silent, pensive headmaster trailing slowly behind her.
The trip to the castle was uneventful, both too wrapped up in their own dreadful thoughts to notice the other. When they reached the door, the girl opened it and stepped into the dark hall. The man followed the girl in and stopped beside her. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, the girl, and the body, went up the main stairs and back to her room.
When she reached the room, she laid the man on her bed, determined to do all she could for her nameless charge. As she tried to make him comfortable, she noticed his mask had loosened. Gently, she removed the mask. As she placed the mask on her nightstand, the man stirred from the sudden onslaught of cold air on his face. His long, silky hair fell across his face, hiding his features from the girl's prying eyes.
She raised her wand once again, intent on healing the man as well as she could. Muttered words under her breath were followed by small bursts of various colored light over the mangled body. Whatever torture he had gone through, and it had probably been literal torture, had left his body, and probably his mind, in a mixture of cuts, bruises, and blood, not leaving a patch of skin untouched.
Finally, he was healed in all places, but one. The girl's hand was mere inches from his face, the one feature that would reveal the man's identity. The longer she was around this man, the more her instincts told her she knew him. A deep breath and a slightly visible shake of her hand were the only things that gave away her nervousness.
The slightest touch of her fingertips to his soft, black hair moved the locks from his face just as his eyes fluttered open. Deep black obsidian eyes met honey-brown ones as a soft gasp of recognition escaped her lips.
A/N:
James II: A Study in Kingship is a real book, written by John Miller and published in 1989. Unfortunately, I have not had the opportunity to read it, and so I have no idea about its quality. I selected the book because the title seemed relevant.
I hope you enjoyed this. As always, feedback is more than welcome and I will do my best to keep you entertained. - SH