Just a Whisper in the Wind
Ever since I was a child, I knew I was different. I was unusually thin and short until I hit puberty when I grew about three feet in a year. Then I was unusually tall and thin. What a combo. Yeah, I'm enthralled. Another thing you might want to know about me is the fact that I am a wizard. No, I don't do magic tricks that would be a damn magician. I attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where I plan to study dentistry. Ha ha, just kidding. Yeah, you can laugh. That was a joke. Anyway, I am a seventh year now, but it seems like only yesterday I was a lowly first year, stepping into that little rowboat. The little boat that would take me to the biggest adventure of my life. My name is Detras, and this is my story. Chapter 1
Until I was seven, I was raised just like any other kid. You know, ice cream, tree-climbing, skinned knees. The whole nine yards. My parents owned and operated a morgue, so by an early age I became accustomed to, and fascinated by death, and I enjoyed my life. It was exactly the way I wanted it. Uneventful. But you know, fate had to come in and screw it up. On my seventh birthday my parents were killed in an automobile accident on their way to buy me a birthday cake. Bummer, huh? Well afterwards, various relative figures came into the picture; none of them wanting to care for the "skinny, goth boy", so the orphanage became a serious consideration. The orphanage? I mean, come on! I could just picture myself, complete with head kerchief, "Oh, it's a hard knock life..." How 'bout not. So that same night, my birthday night, I packed a spare set of clothes and hit the road. I was never to return. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, he rain came falling down. My raven-black hair became plastered to my head, and my azure eyes brimmed with tears. And as I sat under a bridge in the pouring rain on my seventh birthday, I sung out to myself, "Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me..."
Sometime during that chilling night I dozed off for a few hours, only to be roughly awakened by someone violently shaking me. "Boy, boy! Can you hear me? Wake up for God's sake!" My heavy lids rose grudgingly. I thought to myself, "Who is this loser?" He was dressed from head to toe in black, and he was almost bald, save the ring of wiry, gray hair around the sides of his head. "Who are you, and what do you want?", I asked. The man replied curtly, "Boy, we do not have time for pleasantries. We have to go, now". I was becoming angry. "I don't know who you are, what you want, or where in the heck you think you're taking me, but I can assure you I won't be going!", and with that I sat down huffily. The man screwed up his face and mumbled something along the lines of, "...look at me having to use my wand here in the muggle world...master is not going to be pleased that we are late...". And then it happened. I was out for the count. I was being transported out of my familiar home. I was going to another place, another land, and another world. And in this new world I would grow to be great under the wing of the most powerful dark wizard ever known. His name is Voldemort, and he is my father.
I know what you're thinking, "Wait a minute Detras, I thought your parents were just ordinary people running an ordinary morgue, right?" Well, you are partially correct. My "father" was an ordinary man. My mother was a witch. But she failed to tell me that while I was growing up. So when I turned seven, became an orphan, was kidnapped, and now sat in an overly- large armchair in a strange study, waiting to see this legendary wizard who claims he is my father, I was completely lost in transaction. So there I sat. I remember wondering to myself what he looked like. I didn't look anything like my father at home. Not at all. He was a brown-eyes blonde. I slightly resembled my mother. I had inherited her allergies, pointy nose, and ivory skin. But she was also a brown-eyes blonde. Up until that day, I had wondered if I was secretly adopted. So, maybe this guy was my father. Who knows? Suddenly, the two great doors to the study swung open, and the little weasel of a man came in. He stood off to the side of the doors like an usher, and I waited on needles and pins for the great wizard to enter.
You know, any ordinary boy would have been surprised and pleased upon setting eyes for the first time on his blood sire. But, as you know, I am no ordinary boy. When the great Voldemort finally did enter, he did not walk, but was carried. Yes, the great Voldemort was carried into the room to meet his only son. I looked at him and tried to hide the look of horror and disgust that was surfacing on my face. Well, there was no resemblance between us either. It seemed to me that he was more snake-like than human. His face was milk-white and he had little red slits for eyes. He had no nose at all. The rest of him looked like a little, shriveled-up old man, and he wheezed when he breathed. But this little deformed man sent out such a great force of evil that even I was terrified. "So," said Voldemort, " you're my little accident...the resemblance is uncanny, splitting image really. No, no...you have your mother's nose. You know, she was a true disappointment". My fear instantly turned to anger. " I must ask that you not speak about my mother in that manner," I shouted, "She was a great woman". Voldemort laughed. "No boy, she was not great. She was beautiful and seductive, but not great. Her flaw was her hasty decisions. And her worst hasty decision by far was her decision to keep you, m'boy". I stood up and shouted again. The anger was flowing through my veins like scalding blood. I felt like I was going to blow straight through the roof. "I don't believe you even knew my mother. She was the only truly good person I have ever known, and if you even knew her at all you would agree with me! You can't be my father, because I won't accept it!" Voldemort laughed again. This time his laugh was colder. My anger was escalading so fast, I wondered if it was possible to self-combust. There was a letter opener lying on the table next to the armchair, and I reached over to grab it. My hand was too short. I wondered why Voldemort was not trying to stop me. I reached over again. If I only could stretch one more inch! But I didn't need to, because at that moment, it flew into my hand. I gripped it, and sent it flying over in Voldemort's direction. I sat there dumbstruck, while he reached up a little, shriveled hand and caught it just in time. Voldemort smiled. "Do you still believe you are the son of an ordinary man, Detras?" He sneered. My anger had turned to fear once again, and I felt drained and extremely weak. "I want to go home, please. Just let me go home" I stood up and proceeded to leave. Voldemort's sneer faded. "Wormtail," he said crisply, "please get the doors." Wormtail obeyed and pulled out his wand. He muttered something again, and the great doors slammed shut just as I was about to exit them. I was then, hoisted into the air, and flung down hardly in the same armchair. "Dammit," I thought, "I am going to die for sure". A small crumpled photograph floated through the air and landed in Voldemort's outstretched hand. "Ah, the good 'ol days..." he said. For a moment I thought he was talking about the love he once had for my mother, but he ruined it. "...When I was young and strong!" He crumpled up the picture and threw it at me. I stared at it. There was me, er, it looked like me with a larger nose, holding hands with a younger, more beautiful version of my mother. "That was me when I was seventeen. And that is your mother. Yes, we were in love once when we both young and stupid. I loved your mother for her energy and her body. She never seemed to tire. When I was with her, she seemed to give me a tremendous energy boost. And I craved that. Together we had many great adventures. But, I knew that she would interfere with my plan, so I tried and tried to get over her. But I couldn't. She had been a part of me so long I couldn't do without her. One sultry, summer night we undertook the greatest adventure of them all, and we went too far. After that night we separated and stopped talking. One cold November night she came to me, worried and pale. I remember distinctly that she was trembling all over. I asked her what was wrong, and she burst into tears. I started to panic, and I began to shout at her. Then she told me the terrible news. She was four months pregnant with my child and the administration at Hogwarts had discovered this and had expelled her. She had nowhere to go, so she asked me if she could stay with me. But I said no, for I feared the administration would realize I was the father. So I denied that her baby, you, were mine and turned her out into the cold. The last thing I saw of her was her tear-stained face trudging away through the snow. We never saw each other again. But I assumed that after she was expelled, she snapped her wand and went to go dwell in the muggle world. And now she's gone and died, and left you with me. Ah, goodie. Well, welcome to my humble abode, boy. We have no time to lose. Let's go start your training".
Ever since I was a child, I knew I was different. I was unusually thin and short until I hit puberty when I grew about three feet in a year. Then I was unusually tall and thin. What a combo. Yeah, I'm enthralled. Another thing you might want to know about me is the fact that I am a wizard. No, I don't do magic tricks that would be a damn magician. I attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where I plan to study dentistry. Ha ha, just kidding. Yeah, you can laugh. That was a joke. Anyway, I am a seventh year now, but it seems like only yesterday I was a lowly first year, stepping into that little rowboat. The little boat that would take me to the biggest adventure of my life. My name is Detras, and this is my story. Chapter 1
Until I was seven, I was raised just like any other kid. You know, ice cream, tree-climbing, skinned knees. The whole nine yards. My parents owned and operated a morgue, so by an early age I became accustomed to, and fascinated by death, and I enjoyed my life. It was exactly the way I wanted it. Uneventful. But you know, fate had to come in and screw it up. On my seventh birthday my parents were killed in an automobile accident on their way to buy me a birthday cake. Bummer, huh? Well afterwards, various relative figures came into the picture; none of them wanting to care for the "skinny, goth boy", so the orphanage became a serious consideration. The orphanage? I mean, come on! I could just picture myself, complete with head kerchief, "Oh, it's a hard knock life..." How 'bout not. So that same night, my birthday night, I packed a spare set of clothes and hit the road. I was never to return. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, he rain came falling down. My raven-black hair became plastered to my head, and my azure eyes brimmed with tears. And as I sat under a bridge in the pouring rain on my seventh birthday, I sung out to myself, "Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me..."
Sometime during that chilling night I dozed off for a few hours, only to be roughly awakened by someone violently shaking me. "Boy, boy! Can you hear me? Wake up for God's sake!" My heavy lids rose grudgingly. I thought to myself, "Who is this loser?" He was dressed from head to toe in black, and he was almost bald, save the ring of wiry, gray hair around the sides of his head. "Who are you, and what do you want?", I asked. The man replied curtly, "Boy, we do not have time for pleasantries. We have to go, now". I was becoming angry. "I don't know who you are, what you want, or where in the heck you think you're taking me, but I can assure you I won't be going!", and with that I sat down huffily. The man screwed up his face and mumbled something along the lines of, "...look at me having to use my wand here in the muggle world...master is not going to be pleased that we are late...". And then it happened. I was out for the count. I was being transported out of my familiar home. I was going to another place, another land, and another world. And in this new world I would grow to be great under the wing of the most powerful dark wizard ever known. His name is Voldemort, and he is my father.
I know what you're thinking, "Wait a minute Detras, I thought your parents were just ordinary people running an ordinary morgue, right?" Well, you are partially correct. My "father" was an ordinary man. My mother was a witch. But she failed to tell me that while I was growing up. So when I turned seven, became an orphan, was kidnapped, and now sat in an overly- large armchair in a strange study, waiting to see this legendary wizard who claims he is my father, I was completely lost in transaction. So there I sat. I remember wondering to myself what he looked like. I didn't look anything like my father at home. Not at all. He was a brown-eyes blonde. I slightly resembled my mother. I had inherited her allergies, pointy nose, and ivory skin. But she was also a brown-eyes blonde. Up until that day, I had wondered if I was secretly adopted. So, maybe this guy was my father. Who knows? Suddenly, the two great doors to the study swung open, and the little weasel of a man came in. He stood off to the side of the doors like an usher, and I waited on needles and pins for the great wizard to enter.
You know, any ordinary boy would have been surprised and pleased upon setting eyes for the first time on his blood sire. But, as you know, I am no ordinary boy. When the great Voldemort finally did enter, he did not walk, but was carried. Yes, the great Voldemort was carried into the room to meet his only son. I looked at him and tried to hide the look of horror and disgust that was surfacing on my face. Well, there was no resemblance between us either. It seemed to me that he was more snake-like than human. His face was milk-white and he had little red slits for eyes. He had no nose at all. The rest of him looked like a little, shriveled-up old man, and he wheezed when he breathed. But this little deformed man sent out such a great force of evil that even I was terrified. "So," said Voldemort, " you're my little accident...the resemblance is uncanny, splitting image really. No, no...you have your mother's nose. You know, she was a true disappointment". My fear instantly turned to anger. " I must ask that you not speak about my mother in that manner," I shouted, "She was a great woman". Voldemort laughed. "No boy, she was not great. She was beautiful and seductive, but not great. Her flaw was her hasty decisions. And her worst hasty decision by far was her decision to keep you, m'boy". I stood up and shouted again. The anger was flowing through my veins like scalding blood. I felt like I was going to blow straight through the roof. "I don't believe you even knew my mother. She was the only truly good person I have ever known, and if you even knew her at all you would agree with me! You can't be my father, because I won't accept it!" Voldemort laughed again. This time his laugh was colder. My anger was escalading so fast, I wondered if it was possible to self-combust. There was a letter opener lying on the table next to the armchair, and I reached over to grab it. My hand was too short. I wondered why Voldemort was not trying to stop me. I reached over again. If I only could stretch one more inch! But I didn't need to, because at that moment, it flew into my hand. I gripped it, and sent it flying over in Voldemort's direction. I sat there dumbstruck, while he reached up a little, shriveled hand and caught it just in time. Voldemort smiled. "Do you still believe you are the son of an ordinary man, Detras?" He sneered. My anger had turned to fear once again, and I felt drained and extremely weak. "I want to go home, please. Just let me go home" I stood up and proceeded to leave. Voldemort's sneer faded. "Wormtail," he said crisply, "please get the doors." Wormtail obeyed and pulled out his wand. He muttered something again, and the great doors slammed shut just as I was about to exit them. I was then, hoisted into the air, and flung down hardly in the same armchair. "Dammit," I thought, "I am going to die for sure". A small crumpled photograph floated through the air and landed in Voldemort's outstretched hand. "Ah, the good 'ol days..." he said. For a moment I thought he was talking about the love he once had for my mother, but he ruined it. "...When I was young and strong!" He crumpled up the picture and threw it at me. I stared at it. There was me, er, it looked like me with a larger nose, holding hands with a younger, more beautiful version of my mother. "That was me when I was seventeen. And that is your mother. Yes, we were in love once when we both young and stupid. I loved your mother for her energy and her body. She never seemed to tire. When I was with her, she seemed to give me a tremendous energy boost. And I craved that. Together we had many great adventures. But, I knew that she would interfere with my plan, so I tried and tried to get over her. But I couldn't. She had been a part of me so long I couldn't do without her. One sultry, summer night we undertook the greatest adventure of them all, and we went too far. After that night we separated and stopped talking. One cold November night she came to me, worried and pale. I remember distinctly that she was trembling all over. I asked her what was wrong, and she burst into tears. I started to panic, and I began to shout at her. Then she told me the terrible news. She was four months pregnant with my child and the administration at Hogwarts had discovered this and had expelled her. She had nowhere to go, so she asked me if she could stay with me. But I said no, for I feared the administration would realize I was the father. So I denied that her baby, you, were mine and turned her out into the cold. The last thing I saw of her was her tear-stained face trudging away through the snow. We never saw each other again. But I assumed that after she was expelled, she snapped her wand and went to go dwell in the muggle world. And now she's gone and died, and left you with me. Ah, goodie. Well, welcome to my humble abode, boy. We have no time to lose. Let's go start your training".