Chapter 0 : The Prologue

Disclaimer : I do not own Harry Potter & Code Geass, but for the sake of the story, I've changed some of the character's family names.. (vi. Britannia is no doubt the name of a royalty) I hope that does not affect much of everything for readers! Their appearances will remain the same, and while I'll try to stick to the time line of Harry Potter, I can't guarantee I wouldn't make mistakes..

Note to all : Just to let you know, I've removed the introduction and added this new Prologue in front of the 'Introduction' I previously posted, so it'll help if you can erase the previous introduction from your mind XD. Big thanks to Kiroshinoke for pointing out my language and other errors, and many, many thank-yous to everyone who has reviewed my chapter! So here's the Prologue, please enjoy! Reviews are greatly appreciated (:

17th August 1982 ; 6:39 p.m.

The air within the overused public bathroom was stale, a mixture of scents stirred only by the lonely fan hanging on the wall. The chatter in the pub outside drifted in at an irregular pacing, accompanied by the loud 'bang's issued from the doors as they swung shut after every use. It was an ordinary workday evening, and the pub was filled with its regular customers; Tired men seeking refuge way from the daily stress and workload, others seeking all sorts of opportunities among the mass of people..

The public bathroom was, as usual, left deserted until in times of need.. When suddenly, a dull 'thud' was issued from the innermost cubicle, the one furthest away from the ceiling light, such that minimal amount of illumination reached the shielded space. The familiar sinking flush of water followed, also accompanied by the softest cussing, easily missable over all the noise around the toilet.

"God, damn, not my coat again.."

The door to that cubicle swung open suddenly to reveal an average-sized, but well-built man stepping out hastily, one hand holding his winter trench coat up as his other hand gripped tightly on an oaken walking stick. In a flutter of fabric, the man released his coat and glided swiftly towards the basins, still grasping his walking stick tightly as though his life depended on it. As the man reached out slowly to run his free hand under the leaking tap without as much as releasing his grip on his walking stink, he raised his eyes to the single mirror hanging before his eyes, and a familiar sound of an airy sigh escaped his lips before he managed to blink the vision away with a turn of his head.

He didn't need the mirror to tell him that he was getting old, old, older with every passing minute, for he could feel it with every breath he took, every step he made, every sigh he managed. Nor did he needed the mirror to show him his dead and lifeless his ash-blonde hair, how pale and crumpled his forehead had stayed for the past few years, how his short but spread moustache gave him the profile of an infirm, retiring lion, really. Furthermore, he didn't need to see how dull his lilac irises had became; Once, they were the things that always attracted the spotlight of attention onto himself.. Now, with the deadening shade of dull amethyst they possess, he knew that no one really bothered about looking into his eyes anymore.

Charles McQuillen was barely over forty in years, and yet he felt almost as though he was sixty; His looks, no doubt, only pushed himself to believe that his suspicions were true - He, of all people, was aging faster than normal, more so physically than every other areas.

Blinking slowly as he studied the rough tiles on the floor in contemplation, Charles slowly lifted his eyes to the level of the tainted mirror, almost looking away as he found himself reflected in them again. Work and family were the only two things which could take his mind off his deteriorating appearance, and it were the times when he was unoccupied that made him think of the worse. His appearance was a constant reminder for him of his past, and God knows how Charles had spent years avoiding the people from his past. However, how long more could he manage this facade in font of everyone else? More so, in front of his lovely wife, and his intelligent and fast-developing son? Each glance he took into a reflective surface was a torture; He didn't just have to face himself- He, too, had to face his fears of looking into his past, his enemies, his..

There was a sudden flash of gold from behind him, mercifully captured by the mirror. It caught at the threads of Charles' attention almost immediately, disturbing his original train of thoughts - But, as expected, it disappeared as quickly as it came. Before Charles could properly focus on the swing of honey-blonde long hair, it had disappeared, once again leaving the aged man supposedly alone in the bathroom.

That was almost impossible; There was nothing behind him except the patch of crimson bricked wall. Since that flash of gold had just disappeared into the wall, it must have been a ghost or a spirit of some sort, and that ghost-like thing must have had impossibly long golden hair that could trace the floor, because.. No, it can't be, Charles told himself firmly as he lifted his eyes off the corner of the mirror he had been scrutinising. He must not allow himself to be frightened into his previous ways again. His family's safety and future depended on him.

An almost drunk man chose this moment to stumble into the bathroom, reeking strongly of an unnamed alcohol that made Charles' eyes water. Deciding that he had spent enough time worrying about things he shouldn't be worrying about, Charles gathered his thoughts and his lonely walking stick, and hastily made his way out of the bathroom before the man had the chance to vomit all over him.

17th August 1982 ; 6:53 p.m.

Outside of the pub, out on the streets of a busy city district, London looked like it had always been for the numerous years he had spent here, Charles noted with a slight twinge of relief in his dull, amethyst eyes. Summer had came and gone, leaving a ghastly crimson-shaded destruction in its wake, and Autumn to reminisce the loss of its vibrant and liveliness. Soon enough, Autumn would abandon them as well, leaving place for the dreaded winter, along with its magical white and snow - Seasons do change, and yet, the changes in seasons were much unwanted as each season can be.

Charles hated the finally seasons - Autumn and Winter. It was these two seasons that always brought his mind back to the many memories he had stored about his school days, and as much as he would like to erase them.. Charles knew that they were a part of him now, and he was doomed to remember everything that he had done when he was younger.

Besides, the skies were steadily darkening in the distance, and Charles knew he should get going soon. Nothing was ever safe after darkness fell.

Putting that aside; Walking stick tapping the pavements quietly in a fixed rhythm as he made his way towards the outskirts of the city, Charles eyed the passer-bys with much interest.. And doubt in his eyes. In his world, no one could be trusted by their appearances, let alone by who they really were inside. The old man begging for money by the side of the pavement could actually be a millionaire looking for things to do in his free time, while the woman in that shop window on the other side of the road might actually be a man in disguise.. Poising to strike, preparing to launch an attack at.. A cynical laugh tugging at the corners of his cracking lips, Charles shook his head, and continued down the pavement. Indeed, nothing could be trusted in his world.

His destination should have been the cluster of expensive mansions that resides just on the outskirts of the london city, where all the rich men had gathered to form a closely-knitted community among themselves. It was a place him and his wife had handpicked out, out of all the choices available to them, that they had chose to live in. Rich people from London had a tendency to be ignorant about their surroundings, which in turn created the ideal environment Charles and his family could live in without appearing to be too conspicuous.

However, as Charles continued down the pavement, he made a sharp right turn that he wasn't supposed to make, and heading straight into..

The neighbourhood graveyard, Charles considered grimly.

17th August 1982 ; 7:25 p.m.

V.V. shook his head slowly as he drifted down the pavement, his long lashes waving up and down elegantly as he locked his bloodshot eyes on the towering figure of an aged man just a good distance ahead of him. He had been waiting for this opportunity to strike since many years ago, even more so now that he had just lost something so dear to himself, and Charles had always managed to thwart his plans before he could accomplish anything. This time, he would be sure to catch Charles when the man could still breathe, so that he wouldn't run away again..

Watching as the figure down the road made a sudden, unexpected turn to the right, V.V. cussed under his breath as he followed on, trying to catch up without attracting unnecessary attention to himself. Sure, even though he had taken care to disguise himself earlier, that cursed Charles might still be able to recognise him - V.V. doubt he would ever be able to part with his long, honey-blonde hair, which was a great flaw in every single of his disguises. Smirking at his own thoughts as he passed the gates to the graveyard silently, V.V. scanned his new surroundings with bored, crimson irises.. And jumped when he realised that Charles was no longer in sight.

No rush, no rush, the blonde urged himself, but a known flush of emotions to his head told him that he was angered, and fuming furious, while he was at that. Somehow, his previous calm and patience were driven out of his head already - He couldn't afford to lose Charles again, not when his Lord had fallen, not when his mates had all scattered and escaped, each of them claiming to have no previous connection with his Lord, not when he himself was risking his life by blatantly walking out on the streets like that.

Gliding deeper into the graveyard, V.V. squinted his eyes as his sensitive nose picked up the disgusting smell of dirt and the dead, his whole body aching to leave this dreaded place.. When another familiar scent caught at his senses. Ah, so you're here, Charles, my friend.. Smirking once more, V.V. stopped on the spot below an old oaken tree, and waited..

"Vicky!"

A dull 'thud' sounding from behind the honey-blonde confirmed his suspicions - Firstly, Charles had indeed been hiding himself up on a tree, and secondly, Charles still has no suspicions over his identity, for the other boy was still referring to himself as 'Vicky'. Wheeling around with a tiny triumphed smile spreading across his child-like face, V.V. turned to face his best friend since his school time, flashing him a wide smile while keeping his lips pursed tightly together. It had almost made him look and feel too.. Silly.

"Hey there, Charles!"

17th August 1982 ; 7:32 p.m.

Charles found it a little hard to believe his luck, not that he would choose to believe otherwise right now.

He had only vaguely realised that he was being tailed ever since he had left the pub back in London, and after walking alone in silence, his suspicious were confirmed - The person was indeed tracking him, and that the person was most probably an enemy, because Charles found that he couldn't detect the other's thoughts. All he could hear was a dull buzz, and an unintelligent murmur of words that revealed nothing of importance to him. The turn made into the graveyard had been necessary - Charles didn't want to lead his tracker right to the doorsteps of his family.

However, now that he was staring into the face of his school time best mate, Victorio, Charles easily let his guard down, and approached the supposedly older boy with ease. Afterall, there was no reason for him to be afraid of Victorio, of Vicky - The other boy wasn't among the group of followers..

"Wow, Vicky, I didn't expect you to be the one tailing me.."

"I know, Charles. It's rough times now, and it's only natural for people to be suspicious and doubtful."

"Indeed. I was expecting Lucius when I saw the flash of honey-blonde hair at the- Was it you in the pub as well?"

"Lucius? Oh, no, he wouldn't dare.. Of course, who else could it be?"

"I know it sounds silly, Vicky, but there's so many people I have to be guarded about-"

"Of course, of course. What with the recent departure of our master.. What with our old friends running loose without restrains, eh?"

"Vicky.. What.. Are you talking about?" Victorio's tone was starting to creep him out. Hesitantly, Charles took a step back, his eyes glancing away from Victorio's face for once since the whole time they were talking. That second of hesitation was all V.V. needed - When Charles' eyes were back onto his best friend from behind, he almost jumped away to find a clean, elegantly styled twig-like object pointing into his chest, to find Victorio to be the one directing the stick at his heart. However, he was rooted on the spot, for he knew that he wouldn't have enough time to run.

This was exactly what he had always dreaded about, only.. Why does it have to be Victorio..

"Vicky- What's this abo-"

"I don't think you haven't seen this coming, Charles. Not after the Dark Lord had gone missing. And oh, you should refer to me as 'V.V.' now, Charles. The Victorio you once knew no longer exist."

Silence fell shortly after that; Charles knew that there was no way he could just walk out of this mess. Praying hard that Vicky - V.V. was only here for him, and not his family, Charles was forced deeper into the graveyard by V.V. ..