Preface and Prologue
PREFACE: This story is actually based on a dream I had. It was a very interesting dream. Characters will be acting out of character, time travel is involved, and evil comes in many greater shades than that of Tom Riddle. The pairings for this story are yet to be decided, if there end up being any at all, but I'll probably make it end up being Harmony or Honks. Or maybe both. Harry deserves a lot for The shit he goes through. As for others, could be any number of others, up to and including some homosexual pairings. There will be no (well, very little) slash, fem-slash, lemons, or whatever other slang terms you want to throw in for two people porking. There will be strong language, there will be adult themes, Dumblefucker is a manipulative old bastard but he's not evil, and Ron Weasley is an idiot, but he's not too bad of a guy. I'm going to be writing this as I go, as I have created no outline for it, nor have I ever written a fan-fiction of any description before. Also, there's lots of super characters, and an extremely fucked up villain. There's three Original Characters that The reader should be aware of and I will describe them here in case I forget or can't work it in to The story line.
Victor Frost is an American hit wizard who is The same age as Harry. He's not exactly sane, but he's not a dangerous psychopath. He has a great deal of knowledge in combat magics and excels in The use of necromancy, assorted forms of death magic, and cutting spells. He's also not opposed to getting his hands dirty and going ape-shit with assorted merciless pieces of metal. He generally goes by The name of Frost. Frost is a natural Occlumens because of his particular breed of insanity.
Seymore Barlow is another American hit wizard that belongs to The same trio as Frost. He is a master of battle transfiguration, normal transfiguration, and bludgeoning and explosive spells. He is a demolitions expert and is accomplished at taking down wards. His family is part giant, and he stands almost seven feet tall. He wears a family heirloom laced with ritual giant magic that Occludes his mind and also prevents him and anything or anyone in his immediate area from being located magically. Trained as an American hit wizard, he is not opposed to using physical violence when necessary, and often carries around a large battleaxe that was his great grandfather's.
Billy O'Hara forms The third to The American trio, and he picks up The slack where The others aren't there. He's an accomplished ward master and is great at charms. He uses many obscure spells in combat, as well as a few that he has created on his own. He has a genius IQ and an eidetic memory, making him second only to Hermione in The sheer amounts of book knowledge he possesses. He shuns physical combat more than The other two, but will get his hands dirty should The need arise. Of The three, he is The only one that actually mastered Occlumency The old fashioned way.
Now that that's out of The way, I will apologize for a few things: first, all of The capitalized 'The's. It's an issue with my auto-correct that I haven't been able to fix. I'll try, but I can't promise anything. Second, The amount of American language that is going to be used by British people. I'm American, and while I'll try to use Britishisms as much as possible, I'll forget occasionally, I'm sure. Thirdly, I apologize for The length of The preface. Without further ado, The prologue.
Prologue: Possibly Disastrous
Harry Potter was not in Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. As far as he knew, that place, with it's smallest bedroom, immaculately clean kitchen, and hated cupboard under The stairs, no longer existed. Harry Potter was currently in a very damp, very musty cellar that looked a lot like a dungeon, staring into a cauldron of which The contents defied every attempt to describe. The cauldron was situated in The center of a large diagram drawn into The floor, inlaid with silver, salt, and blood. Harry looked at The man who was watching The cauldron, presumably knowing that it was done. "Is it going to work, Tom?" He asked. Tom Riddle, once known as Lord Voldemort, glared at Harry. Once, not too long ago, before a bigger threat than Voldemort showed up, Harry would have withered at that glare, but he'd seen far too many things to care about it now. "I told you it's never been done before!" hissed Tom, and then, in what passed for his normal voice "I don't know, Harry. We're really completely out of our league, here. This is magic of The highest order, and even I, with my vaunted powers, cannot guarantee that it will work. Time travel is, to say The least, tricky business." He shook his head. "The only thing left to add is The blood of everyone that is going back." He pulled out a flask from his robes that contained a little bit of red liquid. "This is mine, add your own and get The others. This will be our last stand." he said in a slightly defeated, yet still defiant voice.
Harry walked in to The next room and observed The people inside before they noticed him. Neville Longbottom sat in a chair by The fire. He resembled Mad Eye now more than either of his parents. He had lost his left hand, which had been replaced by a silver one, courtesy of Tom, as well as a good portion of The left side of his face, which was now a mess of scar tissue. He still had both eyes, however, and they were sharp as knives. Luna Lovegood and Hermione Granger stood at a table going over a book that seemed older than time itself, and with some of The things they had run into over The last few years, he wouldn't be surprised if it was. The three strange Americans who had shown up a few years ago with news that America was overrun sat in The corner playing cards at a rickety table. They were very good at their jobs, and were quite The force to be reckoned with, but they were still mortal, and had scars just as everyone else. The last two were possibly The saddest to see. Standing proud and sad like some platinum blonde Angel fallen from on high was Draco Malfoy. He looked so much like his father, who had fallen just after learning The error of his blood purity nonsense. He had saved them all, with his death, but it had still come as a blow. He stood talking to Ron Weasley. The once fiery and stubborn redhead was more reserved now, and had grown up remarkably. His family had died and now he had what he always wanted, something his brothers would never have. He was alive. They had all lost families, friends, and lovers. They had watched society crumble to dust and watched their own resistance faction dwindle frpm over a thousand strong to just The ten of them, huddled in a basement. And now it was time for them to go back and correct The many mistakes that had been made.
Harry cleared his throat from The doorway and immediately had their attention. "It's time." was all he said, but everyone immediately stood up, glad that The waiting was over. They had a plan, they had The power, and they were about to get what they needed most: Time.
The blood was added, The incantation spoken, The die cast and The pieces set. The ten people felt an inexplicable sensation and knew they had at least succeeded in doing something. They would stop this madness. They would stop The Scourge.
A/N: Yes, I know, horribly cliché name for an enemy of humanity, but fuck you, thinking of something new is difficult. I'll update this when I get The chance, and of course, reviews feed The muse.
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