Soul Stealer
By: xxlostdreamerxz
Disclaimer: I don't own HP.
"Telepathy"
Summary: A touch of magic could change all of eternity, time, space and reality. Harry is sick and tired of being kept in the dark like some misbehaving waif. Day by day, Harry's trust and respect for the wizarding world diminishes, which in effect fuels his determination to take a stand once and for all. However, it is not easy for a puppet to break free of its bonds. And when the perfect opportunity present itself...freedom and justice may be at hand.
Nothing dies so long as it is not forgotten.
The stars were twinkling peacefully overhead, as the wind whispered soothingly as it danced through the alleyways of Nightmare End. The cobbled street had just about fallen completely into rubble while the rest was covered completely with dirt and grime. A few old dingy shops stood sternly against the flickering magical fires of the torches, giving it a dark and mysterious feel.
Should any man or wizard say...accidentally...walked in uninvited into such dangerous territory. His life would be at forfeit the moment he set foot past safety of the adjacent street also known as Knockturn Alley.
Seeing as such, no sane individual - magical or otherwise, should be stupid enough to dare set foot in the confines of Nightmare End...
Nevertheless, such rules did not seem to apply to the man that was casually strolling...no, prowling... towards Nightmare End. The man suddenly stopped a few feet across the entrance as a slightly frown graced his handsome features. He raised his hand and tilted it palm up, and whispered a few words underneath his breath...
At that moment, in a great burst of light and ice, a dark angelic bird emerged from the palm.
"Lorelei..." greeted the dark man, as it bowed its head slightly at the silver blue creature. "It's been a long time, old friend."
The bird released a melodic thrill sending ice travel down the man's spine. Lorelei always had this effect on him...it was as disconcerting as it was beautiful.
"So long as the wind screams, the ice burns, and blood runs free...I shall always come at your call," whispered Lorelei, as she flapped her metallic silver wings in greeting. The bird paused for a moment, before continuing in a less cold tone. "Yes...it has been centuries since you have summoned me, Sigurd. How may I offer my services."
The dark man, Sigurd, chuckled lightly at his friend's tone. "I see that a few centuries of rest has done you some good," he said teasingly. "After all, you haven't tried tearing out my throat yet for the matter."
Lorelei let out the bird equivalent of a hiss. "It keeps you on your toes."
"Yes...after all, having death on my heels after all these years is quite useful...in more than one way."
The bird tightened her hold of Sigurd's shoulder, as she gave him a dark glare. "Don't tell me you called me for that reason..."
For the first time tonight, Sigurd sighed. His shoulders slumped slightly as he closed his eyes shut in pain. "I'm sorry Lorelei..." he whispered softly. "I just can't get it out of my mind. It haunts me...second by second...I just can't control it anymore."
"Then learn how to, your stupid fool!" cried Lorelei, as she screeched in agitation. "You cannot change history...magic, just for your own connivance." The bird ruffled her feathers furiously as if to show her displeasure. "Your past is gone..." she hissed furiously, "There is nothing you can do to change it, nor try to salvage it. Your family has been dead for centuries..."
Sigurd shook his head sadly. "No, Lorelei. You are wrong," he said slowly. "There is still one left...the last to my line. He is alive and well; however, he is in great danger."
"It is his life, and destiny. Not yours," stated Lorelei coldly. "Had you any sense at all, you would understand that he has to face it all alone...as it was prophesized."
Sigurd suddenly straightened and turned about to stared at Lorelei straight in the eye. "You forget your place, Lorelei," he said sharply, as his golden brown eyes gleamed dangerously. "Are you suggesting that I should allow my last and remaining heir to fight that...demon...without any source of preparation?" The man leaned closer to the silver blue bird and whispered harshly, "And allow him to be used and sacrificed as nothing more than a pawn?"
"Sigurd..."
The man shook his head. "No, I have made my choice," he said coldly. "We will leave at dawn..."
The last shadows of dawn stretched out across the horizon, as a pair of song birds trilled with cheer as they perched upon the old elm tree in the backyard of 4 Privet Drive. A giant tire swing hung against the tree, which swung back and forth in the breeze. This house just seemed to exude an aura of conformity and normalcy; however, a particular occupant who resided within said house were not normal by any means.
A small shadow sat huddled against the windowsill, as he stared out blankly at the morning sky. Today, the sky was a beautiful masterpiece with delicate strokes of red, yellows, and oranges scattered about, only to be dotted with a few hints of pure fluffy white clouds. In other words, it was exquisite. However, such beauty did not seem to affect the boy, for he continued staring blanking outside as if he was dead to the world.
And in a way, he was.
The boy was tall and slender, though a bit on the thin side. Messy black bangs fell over his face, framing the delicate lightning shaped scar that stood blatantly against the white pallor of his skin. His eyes, which were once a shade of sparkling emeralds, had now been reduced to a dull green. The boy was a mess, dressed in an extremely large black hand-me-off from his cousin and a set of baggy pants that was tightly held up by a thin ragged brown belt. This boy, was none other than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and of course the supposed savior of the world.
However, at the moment, Harry felt nothing like the supposed savior that he was made out to be. Instead, he felt like...
...a fool.
...a failure.
...and lastly, a murderer.
A few weeks ago, Voldemort had sent him a vision of Sirus being held hostage within bowls of the Department of Mysteries. Harry, now that he look back upon it, had been a fool. Even after facing Voldemort for all these years, he truthfully had not learned anything whatsoever. The only reason he'd ever survived any of those previous meetings with the bloody Dark Lord, was simply due luck. Nothing less, nothing more.
And he concluded that eventually, his luck would run out.
Sirus...his beloved godfather had been the price for his foolishness. Harry bowed his head in pain as an image of Sirus falling into the veil flashed across his mind's eye. God, he missed him.
Sirus...Padfoot...Snuffles...
The man had been the only real family he's ever had. Harry lips drew into a bitter smile. It was ironic, as it so seemed that in a single moment, that Harry had managed to destroy the one thing that he'd every truly wanted in life - a family. If it hadn't been for him, Harry knew that this wouldn't have happened. It was his fault.
All his fault.
At the end of the term, he'd been determined to blame Dumbledore for everything that happened at the Department of Mysteries. However, now that he looked back at it, Harry knew that he was wrong. Dumbledore, being who he is, was determined to give him a childhood and protect him from the world. The headmaster had the right intentions; however, none of his plans ever seemed to work out. Harry had grown up in a cupboard, and had a miserable childhood. And by withholding the prophecy, well...the headmaster had broken his trust.
Nevertheless, he still couldn't put all the blame on Dumbledore's age-worn shoulders. Sure he didn't trust the man any longer, but Harry knew deep down that Dumbledore was not the cause of Sirus' death.
Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice a darkly cloaked man appearing out of thin air in his room. However, Hedwig did see the man and felt the magic that was oozing off of him and began screeching in fear.
In that short space of time, Harry drew his wand and whirled about to face his visitor with a curse ready on the tip of his tongue.
"Well, well, well...I must admit, I'm impressed."
A/N: Well, how was it? Good? Bad? Blah? P This story was the product of stress and well, school. I got a bit tired of writing my other HP fics since they're WAY AU, so I decided to write one that would stick a bit closer to the norm. (Don't worry, I'm just taking a short break from my other fics while I brainstorm a bit). Umm...but then again, this story does branch off quite a bit, and probably will become AU later on. Right now I've just got so many idea bouncing through my head, I simply don't know what to write next. Basically, in this story its going to be Harry vs. Dumbledore, Voldemort. I love to read and hopefully be able to write stories where Harry is smart, and cunning and actually knows how to maneuver himself in society. Sure, I mean I also love writing and reading super-power fics; however, right now, I think this story isn't going to be a Super-power Harry. Harry will be strong, but not insanely so. I'm not going to spoil the rest of the fic by telling you more, since I seem to be rambling here...so R/R!
HELP!
1) Hey, do any of you guys have any idea how I can revise my summary? I think it sucks.
Check out my other fics!
Darkly Treacherous
Light in the Shadows
Spell of Time
Seductive Darkness
Well, that's all for now!
Thanks again! lub
xxlostdreamerxz