Chapter 1: Thought and Thoughtless
I opened the infamous Daily Prophet, paying the screeching barn owl as I did so. Seven Knuts, every morning the same. My groan of displeasure at the paper's contents usually waited for the third or fourth page, but not today.
The pale, black haired, bespectacled boy I had not set eyes on for seven years was printed, front page on that days Prophet, laughing and holding tightly to a skinny, red haired, kind faced girl, her arms wrapped around his waist in turn.
The headline read; 'The Chosen One ties the knot!'
So today was his wedding day. I glanced briefly towards the fireplace – the same place I had screwed up and thrown a wedding invitation to the same ceremony that the Prophet described.
A tinge of regret passed, almost unnoticed, down my spine, poisoning my blood stream as it went. Should I go? I still have time? I wiped the thought from my mind, preferring instead to busy myself with the usual mundane drivel posted in the newspaper, consoling myself with the thought that the crossword might be especially challenging today and need my entire concentration and brain power.
The newspaper immediately joined the coals burning in the heath however when I realised that that day's crossword was entitled 'Harry Potter's greatest Triumphs.' – As if I didn't feel sick enough already.
Leaning my head back in my armchair to look at the ceiling – anything not to see Potter's smug face – I suddenly noticed the faded, scorched out tapestry of my ancestors family tree. Before I had moved into Number 4 Grimald Place I had been under the impression that only the weak, half blooded minded and inbreeds had been disinherited from the family and disintegrated off of the tree... But according to the tapestry before me, none of us had ever lived or breathed.
It seemed Potter had got into a mood some years ago and had re-done the family tree to alleviate his temper. He hadn't managed to save his previous God father's face though. I could just make out the words 'Sirius Black' under a dark, crusty burn mark, probably created with a controlled Incendio charm... Very hard to reverse and put right again.
So much for a distraction... I thought grimly to myself.
A scuffling of aged bare feet sounded behind me. I turned slowly, not wanting to look at the decrepit old house elf, who had shown an aversion towards me the moment he had set his eyes on me.
"Master," his croaky voice said, his tone monotonous and his posture drooping with displeasure.
"What?" I said my patience with the servant even shorter than usual due to my bad mood.
"Breakfast is on the table in the kitchen Master." he turned to leave the room, taking as much pleasure in my company as I did in his. Before he left, he felt the malicious need to look back over his shoulder, and add, an evil smirk on his wrinkled, batty old face; "Don't choke Master, we wouldn't want that now, would we." His smile grew at the same rate as my glare did. "Well, you wouldn't choke anyway now would you...? You'd never want to make Kreacher happy. No. No you wouldn't." He finished, his eyes widening. He couldn't escape in time though. I strode over to where he stood, slouching in the doorway. I grabbed the back of his grubby cloth he wore draped around his bony figure, turned him completely towards me, and then grabbed his ugly floppy right ear. Using my other hand I clutched his throat, throttling him till his face went purple, then I threw him from the room, slamming the door shut in his face.
I didn't know what I was doing, or why, but I knew exactly where I was headed. I had barricaded myself in the lounge for two hours straight, keeping myself in and keeping Kreacher out. It had worked relatively well for the 120minutes I had distracted myself inside the room, but it wasn't working anymore. I had to get out. Unable to face the ugly house elf, I summoned the floo powder from the kitchen with a wave of my wand. It appeared in my outstretched hand. Taking a handful of the powder, I threw it into the blazing fire and stepped into the emerald green flames, shouting as I did so, in a loud clear voice, "Godrick's Hollow," – that being the only part of the Church address that I could remember – before I disappeared in a whirl of fire and smoke.
As I spun, I watched the 300 or so fireplaces spin past me, always too quick for me to get a good look in before they tumbled out of sight.
I fell, soot laden and cold, my hair ruffled and my robes grey, onto a hard, stone paved hearth. Unhurriedly, I stood, coughing. I looked around the room I had appeared into, and noticed, with a wave of shock, that I was not alone. I was being watched by what I supposed was a very attractive young woman with long blonde hair and an extremely beautiful face. I didn't really register her beauty, I was in such disbelief. She stood, watching me, behind a bar, cleaning an already sparkling champagne glass with an ivory silk handkerchief
Bugger! I thought. Had I just appeared in front of a Muggle? Into a Muggle's fireplace? She defiantly looked astonished. Out of fear? I guessed.
I straightened up completely, drawing my wand slowly from my trouser pocket, as I did so, ready to modify her memory if necessary.
She continued wiping the glass, and looking at me, more puzzled than shocked. I was about to leave, thinking she was just a witch who wasn't expecting me... Until she said;
"Are you here for the wedding? You're a little late you know?"
I noticed her voice sounded like a song... The kind of voice a soprano opera singer has.
"Yeah. I am." I said, dusting myself off, almost embarrassed to be caught like this.
"I thought you might be lost." She said, looking down.
"Well. I'm not." I said, feeling the need to defend myself. She would not talk down to me, however pretty she was.
She looked back at me, raising her eyebrow.
"That's a change in mood." She said, smirking sceptically. Was she making fun of me?
I was about to make a witty remark back to her, but she turned away too quickly and walked out of sight.
I smiled in spite of myself, and walked out of the pub, looking back briefly in a ridiculous hope to see the pretty girl again.
