Unfinished Beginnings

Introduction:

This is the collecting place for stories I started but didn't have the time to finish. Some will be short, others quite long. I may add to certain chapters without notice. If anyone wants to borrow any of the premises, setup, characters, etc for their own writing, you are more than welcome to do so. I'd love it if you could show me what you've done if you do. I am a huge believer in fractal creativity: give a dozen writers the exact same premise and starting point, and you'll end up with a dozen completely different stories.

Born to Darkness

OC-centric dark AU.

I never met my mother. She's been kept at the Ministry since her youth. Held securely in the Department of Purity, which is also where I was born. I went back to visit her, once, when I was a child and didn't understand the difference between living and existing.

I never knew who my father was. I didn't know if he was alive or dead, if he was just another number in the DoP or an actual living wizard. How did he and my mother end up paired?

I couldn't say why I cared about them, it's not like either of them gave me any reason to. But somehow, I felt emptier without the knowledge. Even as I wished I'd never learned my mother's fate, I knew I'd never have been content to remain in ignorance.

My name is Persephone. I am a witch, currently age seventeen, attending Hogwarts School of Magic along with my brother. Sebastian is almost a year younger than me, but we're in the same year. My favourite class is Debate, and my least favourite is Muggle Studies. Bas is very into Arithmancy and Greater Arcana, but I've always preferred words to numbers and diagrams. Bas hates Debate, he likes things simple and straightforward. He believes that it should be possible to analyze everything in life.

I'm more a believer in spontaneity, in making choices as we go. I hate rigid schedules, and am pretty much always a minute or two late for any class but Debate or Charms. Charms is definitely my second favourite class, and the only one taught by a sub-human. Professor Flitwick is half-goblin if rumor is to be believed, and I think in this case it's safe to do so.

Debate was taught by Professor Snape, a tall dark man with the most perfect lack of sympathy ever. He didn't know the meaning of 'going easy' and made sure that none of us would make any such mistakes either.

"The rest of the world hates us," he explained as we entered our OWL studies in third year. "They don't understand the society Lord Voldemort is trying to build here, don't respect the change that must occur for that transition. They fight, they argue, they resist. And they believe, down to their deepest hearts, that they are right. This class's aim is to prepare you to prove them wrong."

It was an inspiring speech, as far as speeches go. Brief, to the point, and explained enough of what we had to know. Now, entering my second year of post-NEWT classes, I'd reached the point where I could match any mudblood or traitor's argument point for point without hesitation. If rumor was to be believed, we'd have our first outing this year. Our first chance to try our skills on the unconvinced populace.

There were hundreds of small pockets of resistance. We heard about them sometimes, either in the newspapers or on the wireless or, more rarely, whispered from person to person. A few attendees had family who rebelled. That was less comfortable still. Those students generally kept to themselves, quietly doing their best to prove themselves more worthy of their birth than their traitor parents.

I occasionally wondered if my father might be a rebel, but then how would he have ended up having me? No one entered or left the Department of Purity without serious security clearance. My own visit was supervised by Headmaster Riddle herself, by special permission.

"Seph, there you are!"

Bas tackled me from behind, but his voice was forewarning enough. I tensed against his weight - considerably less than mine, as he was shorter and skinnier than I - and only staggered slightly.

"Careful, Bas," I said, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. He was clinging to my back, I could feel him hanging there. Throwing off my balance as I took another step forward. "You wouldn't want us to show up for our first Potions lesson with bruises from toppling down the stairs."

He laughed, dropping to the ground, and jogged up beside me. "Nonsense. The stairs are all the way over there."

We started down them, paces matching each other easily. "You are so weird," I told him.

He grinned, I could hear it in his voice. "Not as weird as both of us together."

"We have nothing in common," I said.

"Nothing but love and craziness," he agreed easily.

"Where have you been all summer?" I asked. "I haven't seen you in months."

I turned toward him just in time to see a calculating look slide off his face, to be replaced by a cocky grin.

"Field trip," he said loftily. "Instead of visiting museums, I took a trip out of the country."

"You never did," I retorted, laughing. "Probably just spent the vacation in a basement running numbers for your latest scheme."

"I do not scheme," he said, still in that lofty tone. "I plan. And do so quite well."

I smacked him, playfully irritated. "Spill. What were you really doing?"

He grinned, even as he rubbed at his arm. "Oh, I wasn't making it up. I really did leave the country."

"No way," I said, voice caught between a whisper and a shriek, coming out rather husky and squeaky instead. "Where? How? What were you doing? That's so not fair. I don't get to leave until next year at the soonest."

He turned around, skipping backward down the stairs ahead of me so I could see his gloating expression clearly. I winced. I hated it when he did that. At least we were only a few steps from the bottom.

"France," he declared, after a suitable pause for dramatic effect. "I've been to our sister-school, Bowbattun's."

I winced. "That's not how you say it, it's-"

He held up a hand, tripping onto the landing in a way that almost looked planned. "No, I'm the one who went there, I know."

"You think you do," I said, then let the topic drop. It wasn't nearly as important. "What were you doing there?"

"Translation," he said with obvious relish, still skipping backwards as we traversed the hall. "They found an archive of student texts from Before, and thought it would be good to give their seventh- and eighth-years some practice with unfamiliar spells."

"If I'd known Arithmancy would get me to France," I muttered, but Bas shook his head.

"Ancient Runes, if you'll believe it."

"What students write in ancient runes?" I asked.

"These ones. A whole year full of them. It was while they had a replacement teacher, though, so it may have been an assignment."

"Find anything interesting?" I asked, dropping my voice to a whisper. We were nearing the Green common room, and they all had proper ancestry and names that went back centuries. To them, people like Bas and I were worth nothing except as potential partners should they be given the choice. Even a Nameless like us would be better than a traitor from the DoP, but unless they were actively looking for a mate they'd treat us as the lowborn scum we were.

"I'll tell you later," Bas said, lowering his own voice. His grin faded. "It was a different world back then, Seph. One generation, and everything changed."

"Of course," I replied, beaming. "Lord Voldemort brought us a new era of-"

But Bas shook his head, and the look of absolute seriousness on his face made my protests die in my throat.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice barely even a whisper. "Bas. . ."

"Not here," he said. "Not now. Later, when we're back in Blue."

I nodded, and he resumed his easy smile. No one but me would have noticed how strained it suddenly appeared.

There was no more time for talk, the Potions classroom was just around the corner, and a trio of Reds were waiting politely for us to enter. A daring Yellow pushed past us, as though worried he'd be late, but faltered when I cleared my throat loudly. He hesitated - Ambrose, that was his name. Thought he was important because he was a Smith. But the rules were clear - Greens first, then Blues, and only then Yellows and Reds.

Then Ambrose's eyes widened and he flattened himself against the wall. I didn't need to glance behind me to know why. The Reds standing beside the door flinched back, take several steps away so that they weren't even breathing near the door.

Bas and I stepped aside hastily, with less dignity than usual. A blond Green strode past us, flanked by his two friends. Malfoy and entourage. His nearest thug jostled into me, his hand 'accidentally' trailing across my chest. He gave me a wink and a leer as he passed, the big ugly brute. But he was Green, so he'd get away with it even if I tried to make a fuss. And he was with Lord Malfoy's heir, so doubly foolish to expect reparations.

But I still felt my cheeks burning with shame and repressed fury, even though I knew I was beneath their notice and he was complimenting me by even noticing my existence. He probably didn't mean anything more by it, but it still made my skin crawl to think about it.

Such are the perils of being a Blue. Even though I was just Persephone Nameless, Blue is next only to Green. I had a better chance than most of having children who would surpass my station.

And much worse chances of having any say whatsoever in who those children became.

Notes:

This is one of my oldest HP fic ideas, and potentially one of the darkest and most disturbing. Basically, it revolves around Voldemort's excessive use of Dementors to control the populace, keeping Kissed wizards and witches of sufficient power or lineage in his Department of Purity to use as breeding stock. Sebastian has begun to question the current regime, while Persephone remains convinced of its value. He tries to gradually show her what's wrong with Voldemort's rule, while she tries to rationalize away his seeming rebellion so she doesn't have to turn in her own brother.

This is one of those stories where I had a vividly clear premise and beginning, but no middle or ending. I could probably have come up with something in time, but it's not high enough priority for me to tackle just now.