The Destiny of Youth
A/N: I know some of these ships are so never going to happen, but when I first made up this story it was only for fun and I added my friends and I into it, making the parents based on the looks of a person I was creating on what they look like in real life (wow that was confusing, but hopefully you get what im saying). Please don't mind my horrible errors cause I know there are many of them!
Summary: At the last duel of the war Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort both die while killing eachother breaking the prophecy. This is the story of there kids...
Prologue
I flipped through the pages of the album, stopping now and then at a picture of him. My dad. I heard all about him, all the time. People looked at me expectantly. They thought I'd be great, that I'd be like him. But as much of the stories of his heroism I was told, I felt like I didn't know him. And more than anything I wish I did.
There was a picture of him with Mom, they waved to the camera and my father pointed happily at my mother's huge round belly. She was pregnant at the time, with me. The pure smile on my father's face made me smile down at the little photo. I sighed; I wish he were still alive.
Mom told me all the stories about him… how he had saved the philosopher's stone, how he saved Tori's aunt from a young Tom Riddle while fighting a basilisk, how he had done so many amazing things even though the ministry was against him. How he had died in a duel at the same time as Lord Voldemort did, the most Darkest Wizard of all time. I shivered, thinking of the man that had killed my father, who had killed so many others before my father. At least he was gone. And the whole wizarding community owed that to my brave Dad. I wish I could be as brave as him, but I wasn't.
I closed the book and placed the album on my vanity table. The maid would put it back in its correct place. I starred at myself, wishing that I looked a thing like my father. I sighed, nothing except that black hair that lined my hair in straight lines. But was that even his? My mother also had the same black hair, except mine was slightly lighter with a hint of brown. My eyes were simple brown, but it almost was a mahogany in the light. That scared me… mother always described Voldemort with crimson red eyes.
I looked around at my room, feeling foolishly nervous. There was nothing more than the enormous, and pure white bedroom. The walls were blindingly white. The blanket on the bed, the covering canopy, the curtains that hung over the wide window looking over the property's estate- all white. The room was so unnatural, so abnormal- just like how I felt.
My mother had loads of money, people seemed to feel like they owed us something, and the ministry had paid galleons in respect for my father's death. Plus the volt my father left was all in my name, hardly anything compared to the vaults now in my mother's name filled to the brim with jewels. The house was just a reminder; mother loved to show she was rich.
I hopped off the bed and walked down the large stairs, and out to the garden. It was beautiful with flowers of every colour surrounding the massive pool that sat in the middle with waterfalls sprinkling into the chlorinated and heated waters.
Across the large estate, I could see a large house almost as big as mine from the distance. I grinned like a little girl. Koatha Zabini. One of my best friends since… forever. Her father Blaise Zabini was the minister of magic and her mother- Angelina Johnson, a famous quidditich player.
I missed my friend so much. My own mother Cho Chang-Potter made me travel to Paris in the summers and attend event after event of 'social needs' as she called them. Tomorrow I would see Koatha, on the train for our fifth year at Hogwarts- the school of witchcraft and wizardry.
