Warnings for entire story : Slash, femslash, het, gore, angst, taboo subjects, CROSSOVER with Final Fantasy VII.
Warnings for this chapter : None
What is lost…
Chapter One – Shall Remain
On a cold dark night, on the idyllic road of Privet Drive, it is sometimes possible to see a pale, bespectacled face staring out of one of the upper windows at number 14. This face offers no explanation as to why it is there. Completely blank and expressionless, it seems to simply gaze into the stars, seeking a far off world. But no one witnessed this face. No one walked down privet Drive at night, and the dirty man hidden to mortal eyes snored away in the bushes.
This ordinary face belonged to a not so ordinary boy. He preferred to be known only as Harry – resentment towards his surname having grown after all the trouble it brought him.
Harry sighed softly as he watched the stars. A hand reached up to rub awkwardly across his chest. For some time now he had felt a desperate yearning for something he didn't know. He stayed up tonight – the eve of his seventeenth birthday – in a strange sense of hope that it would bring answers with it. All wizards and witches knew that their seventeenth brought their full power and true selves into being.
And in that the reason for his being extraordinary resided. Harry was a wizard, and a "thumping good one" at that. He had faced down men more powerful than himself too many times; revealed hidden strength at the very moment, and escaped death so many times. Some part of him was frightened by the thought of how much power he would gain tonight, but most of him felt like a missing piece of him was finally coming home.
For the whole of his life he had felt, incomplete. Deep down inside him he could sense a strange block, something that had stolen a piece of him and kept it just out of his reach all of these years.
His eyes slipped to the clock next to his bed. The discoloured hands pointed so very close to twelve now. He had once used a digital clock, but the harshly glowing red digits had raised a sense of fright in him that had caused him to hide it away.
The second hand ticked away, closing on the Twelfth hour. Harry straightened and turned away from the window, focusing all of his attention on the herald of a new life. A sense of thrill passed through him as the steadily moving hand hit eleven.
This was it. Finally he would know what it was that plagued him.
4…
3…
2…
1… He closed his eyes in anticipation and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
He wrinkled his brow in confusion. He wasn't quite sure if he should open his eyes. Maybe his clock was just fast?
The block was still rooted in his chest.
It felt like hours had passed by in the time he opened his eyes, but the clock showed him only ten minutes had. He had sat in wavering anticipation, and a growing feel of despair, not daring to open his eyes to the truth.
And now it hit him full in the face. Frustration brought tears to his eyes. He turned around, a desperate hope that some mystical being was stood behind him crushed when nothing appeared before his eyes.
Bitterness flooded his chest, surrounding the deep sense of something missing. Salty tears flowed from his scrunched up eyes, and he fell into a foetal form on the floor.
He clawed at the emptiness beneath his torso. A muffled sob escaped him and his other hand reached up to cover his mouth.
He remained in that position until dawn, when he finally fell asleep and began to toss and turn in fretful dreams.
And even as the very minute of his birth came and went, nothing happened.
Nothing what-so-ever.