Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter!
A/N 5/7/2013: Hullo all who read this! I'm here to say that I may never continue this story... Unfortunately, the muse for this has left me. I have take the liberty of editing the writing/format. I did genuinely want to finish this, or at least write a few more chapters.. But, as I stated above, my muse for this has left me.
I have also compiled a few drabbles centering on my OC, Anise (Each of them could be read alone and often are not connected in any way). If you would like to read them feel free to drop a line and let me know, I will figure something out! v u v
Please enjoy!
...
Thunder rolled in the distance. Bleary green-gray eyes opened to greet the dark gloominess of the world outside. The eyes were dazed and vacant; no thought processes occupied the green eyed beings mind at the moment. Mentally it was like an old, undisturbed garret covered in layers and layers of dust and cobwebs. The being had no awareness about itself, subconsciously cleaning the mental cobwebs cluttering its mind.
Thought process jumped as a light peppering of rain fell upon the gray lands and in turn the being. Once hazy eyes became sharp and filled with increasing intelligence. It became aware that it, in fact, was a human being, and a male at that. He knew what a human was and he also remembered his name.
Anise Silvanus Peverell.
He remembered what school was and what he was taught. And Magic. Glorious magic.
His natural mind magic's sped up the clearing process of his mind. He was numb, and for a moment he was panicked before relaxing, waiting for the numbness to go away. His joints and muscles ached something bad and his head felt as if it was filled with cotton. Joints groaned and popped as he stiffly rolled over onto his stomach.
Anise pulled himself off the damp ground to rest on his knees. Muscles screaming in obvious discomfort. Head bowed, hair hanging over his face like a curtain of silk. Lifting his head, platinum blond hair rippling like a stream, he noted the various vines and flowers growing along his forearms.
That certainly was bizarre. He also noted that the state of his dress clothes were absolutely vile. His robes were old and tattered, the dye had turned an ashy sort of dove grey. His hands sank into the freshly watered earth and a light shower slowly made its presence known.
His thoughts were scrambled. He barely could remember talking with his mother a fortnight ago.. Was it a day ago? A week? A month? A millennium? Only god knew. He was suddenly hit with the realization of what exactly had happened. His stomach rolled and sank.
'I'm going to be ill.'
His mum was gone.
'I hadn't the chance to say goodbye.' he thought sadly.
Though now was not the time to mourn Anise couldn't stop the tears that fell down his cheeks. He mentally chastised himself, as now was not the time for such an insignificant thing as tears. First he had to find out the date.
Carefully, he looked around. His garden had overgrown, which would explain the magical plant vines, flowers, and weeds growing all over his person. It wouldn't take too long to get it straightened out. He sighed. His tongue felt like lead and his stomach gave a kick and growled in pain.
"Joll." He called, his voice was rough and weak with disuse; he mentally winced at the weak tone.
A small 'pop' sounded and he was momentarily stunned at the sight of his once young house elf. Joll was now extremely decrepit, judging by the numerous wrinkles about his facial features, the large round eyes were droopy and slightly dull. Despite the house elf's old age, his blue toga like clothing was clean and had no tears in the fabric showing that Joll was very proud to serve his family. Said house elf was shocked into silence, eyes as wide as dinner plates.
"M-Master..?"
Joll looked about ready to cry and Anise certainly did not want to deal with a wailing house elf at the moment, he was too tired.
"Yes Joll, help me to my bed." he drawled out slowly, trying to get used to the tedious job of talking despite the feeling of his tongue.
The house elf shakily raised a hand and snapped, his master being levitated into the air and he visibly sagged not having to keep himself up any longer. Making their way into the manor he lazily looked around, not much had changed. Though all of the mirrors were covered as was the furniture, no doubt for preservation, despite the many spells that could do the same job. A light layer of dust had settled over the various artifacts about the manor, the books having a dozen or so preservation charms cast over them.
The pair finally made its way to the his chambers and Anise was gingerly set down on his large four poster bed. The light turquoise comforter and light tan sheets smelled of lavender and rose. Despite the rest of the manor his chambers were extremely clean, not a single dust particle in the air.
The light pitter-patter of the rain lulled him into a light slumber and he barely noticed when a cleansing charm was cast and his daily robes were magically switched for a silk nightshirt.
Feeling content for the first time in what felt like forever, he let his mind let go of the troubles haunting him at the moment. They would be there when he woke up, he was sure.
...
Louder now was the sound of rain hitting the large windows to his bedchamber. Wandlessly casting a Tempus the face of a grandfather clock glowed in the gray light being cast by the sun hidden behind the clouds. It was nearly 4 in the afternoon and he again called out to his personal house elf, now was the time for answers.
A small 'pop' of apparition broke the rhythm of rain.
"Yes my master?" The house elf answered happily, obviously still in shock.
"Do tell this wizard the date?" He said trying to regain the fluent silkiness of his voice before this ordeal.
"My Lord it is the 2nd of May in the year 1998." answered Joll.
He faintly nodded and turned his head to look out across the Peverell Estate. 200 years. It has been 200 years since he was put under the spell. He was suddenly very wary.
Anise visibly slumped, his hair falling like a veil to cover his face. What was he to do? All of his future plans were now invalid. The arranged marriage his mother had set for him no doubt was null and void.
He snorted faintly.
Finally waking up from the spell and the first thing he thought about was the pea-brained, horse-faced, sniveling excuse of a woman he was to be betrothed to. Anise sobered quickly when his thoughts turned to his dear mother.
He sighed; he was going to miss her dearly.
Sighing again, the first thing he needed was a light meal to calm his rolling stomach. 200 years in a spelled sleep probably brought on many medical problems, he decided to look into finding a healer in the near future.
"Joll, if you would be so kind as to bring me a light meal, nothing too heavy of course."
The house elf replied with a bow and apparated with a 'pop'.
Anise turned slowly and propped up pillows to ensure comfort when his meal arrived. Curious, he silently Accioed a light blue hand-mirror. Peering into the now antique mirror he was greeted by the face he had been looking at all of his life. Clear porcelain skin (despite the fact he had been lying outside for 200 years), piercing almond shaped green-gray eyes, a hansom thin roman nose, medium sized lips with a constant upturn (despite his moods), an almost feminine angled chin, and pale blond hair.
The only change he could notice was the fact that his hair, which had been barley past his shoulders the morning of the incident, was now well past his waist. Interesting. A small 'pop' pulled him from his musing and he looked to the house elf who had in hand a silver tray with water and broth with tea in it's decrepit hands.
"Master, I has for you a broth and some tea or water." The house elf had calmed down since his untimely awakening.
"Thank you Joll, it is greatly appreciated.' The young master replied. The house elf snapped his fingers and the tray floated up to the young (or was it old now?) wizard to hover over his lap, bowed and left with a faint 'pop'.
The wizard slowly ate his broth with small sips of water after a few spoons full. Once the meal set in his stomach he lifted the tea cup with slightly shaking hands. He frowned. Could this be a side effect to the spell or was it nerves?
Shaking his head minutely Anise set to sipping on his tea. It seemed only moments before his favorite Chamomile tea was finished, he set the delicate china onto the hovering tray and it disappeared (most likely to the kitchens).
Tired again, though not completely physical in nature, Anise settled on the goose down pillows and let sleep claim him.
...
Waking suddenly he glanced around his bedroom. How did he get here?
Oh yes it was Joll who helped him from the gardens. Not really knowing what woke him he sat up in bed and looked out the large windows.
Dawn was coming. A new day. Maybe a new start? A chance at life free from prophecy.
Finally.
He closed his eyes and a lone tear fell down his unblemished cheek.
That blasted prophecy. The bane of his existence. The reason his mother gave her life for him. He would not waste this chance. He would live his life. And damn it he was going to be happy.
With renewed drive for life he opened his eyes and looked out across his homes' land and watched the sun rise.
It was a new day.
...
(A/N: I was sorely tempted to stop there.. But..)
Sliding out of his bed, Anise slipped on a pair of blue slippers and called out for his elf, "Joll."
Said house elf appeared a few feet away. Joll bowed, "Yes Master?" the house elf asked.
"Would you bring my morning meal and whatever this time period uses as a mean to report the news?" the wizard asked not unkindly.
"Yes of course Master." Joll bowed low and left.
Slowly walking to his wardrobe he opened up the doors and was happy to see that none of his clothing were affected adversely by moths or other pests. Selecting a woolen high collared white button-up shirt, dark pantaloons, a pair of black riding boots with gold buckles, and a forest green tailcoat (deciding to forego the usual cravat and over-robes).
In the back of his mind, the fact that it had been over 200 years since he had shopped for any attire, he wondered how much the fashion had developed. Changing from the night gown to the more comfortable attire he sat at his large mahogany desk staring at nothing in particular. A light 'pop' brought him out of his musings and the breakfast tray with a bundle of paper on the side floated up onto the desk space in front of him. He turned to his house elf and replied with a distracted, "Thank you."
The house elf bowed deeply and disapparated. He set to eat his breakfast and read the paper after. After clearing away most of his breakfast he settled on a cup of tea and picked up the bound paper. In bold print at the top of the paper read: The Daily Prophet (and in a smaller print off to the right hand side) May 3rd, 1997. The cover story's title read:
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Defeated At Last!
By Rita Skeeter
It then went on about how a young wizard named Harry James Potter, at the age of 18, beat the most feared Dark Lord of this time the evening before. A large photograph showing said young man covered most of the front page.
He appeared to be haunted, his skin seemed to have a sallow quality to it despite the paper being in a black and white print, large dark smudges under his eyes signified how little sleep he truly had gotten (and if he had slept at all they would have been plagued by nightmares), he was disheveled and his clothing (as strange as it was) that seemed far too large for his stature, were tattered and burnt in some places.
He had on a wry smile trying to be the happy hero everyone seemed to make him out to be. Even with all of these factors against him he was quite handsome. He was petite and his eyes thought slightly dull were shining with unshed tears. Of joy or sorrow he did not know.
Sighing (he seemed to be doing much of this lately), Anise couldn't help but feel like he missed so much. Too much perhaps.
He settled into the large green winged-back desk chair, trying to set up plans within his mind as to re-learning many of the subjects that would have changed in the past 200 years.
He let out a frustrated huff.
He shouldn't be brooding over something like this! The perfect solution would be to hire tutors in all subjects from Herbology to Pure-blood etiquette, celebrations, and tradition. With renewed vigor he called to his house elf. A faint 'pop' signified the arrival of Joll.
"Yes Master? What can Joll do for yous?" The house elf inquired.
"Joll, obviously my attire will not do for these times. Go out and fetch a clothing catalog or a tailor. Either one will suit me." The house elf bowed deeply and apparated out of the manor.
...
End Note: Okay so I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this.. Not yet anyway. If anyone shows much interest in this I could give it deeper thought and come up with a vague idea of what to do.. Of course anyone is free to suggest an idea. And sorry at the terrible go at the old formal-y speech, I don't have a beta and haven't studied the 18th century as much as I would have liked for this story. If it bothers/offends anyone I could just change it to a more modern speech pattern.
I'm more acquainted with it. I have mixed feelings about British slang and the like. On one hand it would add to the stories setting, on the other hand I would need someone else to help me with it! I'm an American after all; you can only go so far with reading and watching it from anywhere.
Well in any case I await your reviews!
EDIT 5/7/2013: Reading through this and making changes fills me with sad thoughts. I honestly did enjoy writing this (and researching the clothing of the Edwardian period). As bleak as the future for this fic is, there still may be hope yet c:
Don't give up on it quite yet. It's still on my mind, even after all of this time v u v
Thank you,
Oceane