Blackbird
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Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life,
You were only waiting for this moment to arrive
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Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life,
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
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Prologue:
He nearly laughed. He came quite close to it in fact. The irony of the situation did not go unnoticed.
Nearly eighteen years ago, His plot to take over the Wizarding World had died. Or, so He'd been led to believe. His Master Plan had absolutely nothing to do with that blasted Potter boy; the boy hadn't even been conceived when His plan was to come to fruition. Unfortunately, He'd been betrayed; His Plan had failed and it'd been nearly a year later before He was told of the Prophecy that had led to His downfall.
Nearly eighteen years ago, He'd had His married followers breed and raise their offspring upon His teachings; they were to be His Second Army, His third generation of Death Eaters. These children were now approaching their final year of schooling, and then they'd rape, kill, torture and die in His name, like they'd been bred to do.
He, Himself, had arranged the marriage between two of His most faithful followers. Their child in particular was to inherit hard logic and unrivaled intelligence from a father who'd done well in Ravenclaw, as well as a lethal cold-bloodedness from a mother who'd specialized in the game of torture. The scores of potions and spells He'd made the mother undergo were to ensure that this child would be the most powerful of all His Next-Generation followers. This child was to be the most dangerous student to ever grace the halls of Durmstrang Institute. She was to be His second-in-command and the leader of His Second Army. She was to direct His troops and aide Him in winning the War. This scion was to be His only equal.
Unfortunately, she had died in the dead of night, only a day old and without a name.
Or, so He'd been led to believe.
Instead, she'd been stolen from Him and replaced with a stillborn by whom, the Dark Lord had yet to discover. He'd kill the one who had committed such treachery if He ever discovered who, but it was no matter now. The Dark Lord had finally found the missing girl; He had found His Death General.
She'd been hiding under His nose all along.
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They sat together, just staring into the fireplace; she on the floor, leaning on her parents' knees as they sat on the couch behind her. They hadn't said anything to each other for hours.
School had let out only a week ago and every night since they spent their time together like this. Nothing was said. There was no need for words. The time to plead, beg, and cry had long passed.
She looked up at the clock on the mantle and sighed. It was time for her to leave. She stood up and turned to hug her parents. Their eyes were filled with something that could easily have been regret.
"I love you," she whispered.
Her father kissed her brow. Her mother squeezed her hand.
"We love you too, little bird."
She left them in the sitting room, still leaning on each other for support, and made her way to her bedroom. Once she'd erected her privacy wards, she crawled into bed, snuggling in with her ginger half-kneazle, and spent a few minutes meditating. When she finished, she closed her eyes and fell into an uneasy slumber.
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He stared at the three Death Eaters before Him. He was briefing them on a secret mission. They were to get in, retrieve the goods, and get out as quickly and quietly as possible. Imperfection meant failure, and failure meant death; it was unavoidable.
"Do not dissssssapoint me," He hissed.
They Disapparated and He finally gave in to His mirth, loud high-pitched shrieks emitting from His lipless mouth.
He'd just sent His followers to retrieve His Death General; the one who'd help Him defeat the Boy-Who-Would-Not-Die and finally, finally, take control of the Wizarding World.
She'd been taken and placed into the care of muggles. He appreciated the irony, oh yes He did.
He could think of no better way to kill Harry Potter, and thus win the War, than by use of his own best friend; muggle-raised Hermione Jane Granger.
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A/N: Welcome! Welcome readers to the first chapter of Blackbird! The DISCLAIMER to any and all stories that I may write can be found on my profile page. Any important info pertaining to this fic can be found there or at my blog: Blackbird (dash) BehindTheScenes (dot) Blogspot (dot) Com. The title and the lyrics up at the top are from the song Blackbird by the Beatles. The Granger part of this chapter was also inspired (somewhat) by the song Highway by Ingrid Michaelson:
"We don't say a word
There's nothing to say that hasn't been heard
And how you've grown, my little bird
I'm regretting letting you fly"
The "little bird" comment will also tie in in future chapters.
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Readers, I apologize, but this is just a teaser chapter. I don't know when I'll have the rest up and running, so I hope you enjoy what I have so far. For those who've already added this story, I apologize for the inconvenience, but Blackbird is going through a MAJOR plot revision. As you can tell, that also includes a new title (if you'll remember, this was previously known as She Won't Wait Long), and a longer prologue (which includes the original chapter one). Just bear with me, please. I'm doing the best I can.
Also, I *MAY* be looking for a beta! If you're interested, here is a list of qualifications:
*Experience in beta-ing a novel-length story. I don't know yet how many chapters there will be, but I can guarantee that this will be a LONG story and I'm sure that requires a great deal of patience.
*Don't hesitate to offer your own opinions or ideas and aren't offended if I (for lack of a better phrase) decide my way is better. I don't mind bouncing ideas back and forth with someone (in fact, I love it!), but I intend to be the only one who truly knows where this story is going, therefore I know (hopefully, lol) what works best for the plot.
*Won't mind a random/non-existent updating schedule. I have a ten year-old lap top that I'm expecting to crash any day now and I'm too poor to afford internet, much less a new computer, so I can't guarantee that I'll always get back to you in a timely manner.
*Stickler for punctuation, grammar, and spelling. I'll proof-read each chapter at least twenty times and still miss some pretty obvious mistakes. As a result from my "dyslexic-tendencies," I sometimes also have a problem with word flow, so a fresh pair of eyes would be extremely helpful in that aspect.
*Fluent/proficiently knowledgeable in French, and to a lesser degree, Latin. The main character is French, and alas, I am not. I can Google translations, sure, but that doesn't mean that the sentences will be in the correct order or even make any sense. And being knowledgeable in Latin would be appreciated because I intend to create a few spells/ceremonies/rituals of my own.
If my requirements seem harsh, it's because I'm serious about this story. Blackbird has been stuck in my head for a long time and I want to do it right. Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome!
lullx
PS- I know JKR changed Hermione's middle name to Jean because she didn't want her to share a name with "Umbitch," but she will always be Hermione Jane to me :)