Disclaimer: do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters.
2 – Information
The moon was obscured by thick clouds, no light touched the cold ground. Through the thick snow and silent forest, a shadow moved at a pace so quick in was intangible and invisible. Noiselessly the shadow darted, something important urged the shadow onwards.
Wizards
The shadow dived into the undergrowth crouching behind a small shrub, a thin beam of light fell across the snow. Crouching further down in the undergrowth, two black eyes peered between the gaps in the plant to watch as the booted feet of two men walked into the clearing.
"I thought he was our only hope," One of them said, in a desperately hopeful tone. "He had won, he had him beaten."
"He did, we saw it, but then again he was up against the greatest Wizard of all time, something must have gone wrong. You cannot be resurrected from the dead." The other said in an incredulous tone, as if he did not know what to think, what to believe. The first pair of boots walked away from the second and stopped next to a tree, the body must have rested against it.
"You-Know-Who is back, I don't want to believe it, how?" he pleaded, as if the question would make the truth disappear.
"All we know that he is back, there will be times for the how's later," The second one said in a deep tone that signalled the end of the conversation. He stood still for a moment, before saying; "We must hurry, it is not wise to be caught about in the dark. Make haste."
Both sets of boots crunched the fresh snow. They moved swiftly into the cover of the darkness of the trees.
The shadow stayed hidden until certain that it was safe to proceed. Leaping out from the concealment of the shrub it started to run, determined to reach its destination.
****
Behind the grubby brick wall of a pub a large black panther sat, concealed by darkness, but its eyes were wary. Nose from the drunk emitted from within the pub. It was time to enter the world of the humans.
The panther shifted into the shape of a crouching man, slim and unhealthy looking, possibly because the length of time the man spent as a Panther. His skin was pale and his hair had an unkempt air around it, long and lank, framing his face. He ran his hand through it, revealing black eyes. He stood and walked from behind the wall. Dressed in a dirty black shirt and ripped jeans he entered the pub through a wooden door.
The pub was ablaze with light and drunken rowdiness. Bloodshot eyes cast suspicious glances at the dishevelled, angular man that had just entered their midst; he ignored them, the light hurting his eyes. He was not used to anything but darkness. Approaching the bar he sat on a stool and waited for the publican. The publican, however, seemed reluctant to provide service to the newcomer, glaring at the dirty state of his clothes and turned his back on his, taking a glass he wiped it with an old rag with unnecessary enthusiasm.
Leaning across the bar, the male whispered, just loud enough for the Publican to hear him;
"You serve those men, who will leave, intoxicated and more than willing to commit the heinous crimes that plague this town, but you are unwilling to serve a genuine customer in need of a meal and a bed, you disgust me."
The publican turned slowly, his face unreadable. Leaning down so that he and the shabby males face were only centimetres apart he whispered in a hurried tone;
"I know that I these men that drink here are the ones that rape the women, bash the men and terrorise the children, but if I refuse to serve them or if I dob them into the authorities I will lose my business, my income and my home. Then how will I look after my wife and children, they are most important to me. You are a newcomer here; they do not take kindly to newcomers."
The male lent away from the publican, surprised at his sudden admission to a stranger, he said nothing, the Publican was not a bad person, but he was willing to turn a blind eye to the pain he inadvertently caused.
"There is nothing I can do for you. But if you care about your family as much as you suggest, my money is no different to theirs."
The publican nodded, he had not expected this stranger to help, and he was not even sure why he told him of his dilemma. This man was right though, he was willing to spend his money his money here so he should not ignore him.
"What do you need?" He asked finally, bracing himself for a backlash from the regular crowd.
***
A small hurricane lamp was all that lit the dingy room that the man had been granted for the night. The bed was grimy but it was much preferred then sleeping in the caves or on the snow. In a filth covered mirror the male studied his appearance. A full meal had been welcome, once upon a time he would never have gone to a Muggle pub for a meal and a room, but times had changed. He had changed.
He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress was hard, but it was only for the one night. He cupped his head in his hands and pondered his existence. It had taken him five years to remember what he was, and it had taken him two years to perfect the art of becoming an animagus, an ordeal he wished never to repeat. But now with his disguise of a Panther, it kept him safe.
However the downside was that he could not enter the Wizarding world unless he was in his Panther form, when everyone thinks you are dead it would not be prudent to waltz into their midst. It was hard to live as an animal, thus why his dishevelled state.
Tomorrow, he decided in his mind, I will get a hair cut and new clothes, a disguise for me in the human world. A fresh start.
***
The sun glinted on the fresh snow that had fallen in the night. Out of the barbers he walked, his black hair short but messy, sticking up in a spikey style. A fresh long sleeved shirt of a murky green and black trousers, he looked a different person. But he was still along way from entering the world in which he belonged. But there wasn't time to change his identity completely. This was enough for now, maybe he would not be picked as the one who died five years previously.
***
Harry Potter awoke as the coldness of the rocky floor seeped through his robes. Sitting up he let the blood run from his head. Removing his glasses from an inside pocket he shoved them on and groped for his wand. Pointing it at a far wall a burst of flames erupted from the ground. He edged closer, letting the warmth wash over him, chasing out the aches and chills in his body.
"Harry?" a female voice called from behind him. He looked back over his shoulder to see a shock of red hair rising off the ground. Ginny Weasley pushed it back and revealed her pretty face. Harry smiled as she moved closer to him.
"Good morning," he said and kissed her forehead, Ginny kissed his cheek in return and turned to face the fire.
"Are we going to find Ron and Hermione today?" She asked, her voice held a little bit of panic as she spoke, she had not heard from any of her family for months, ever since they had to go into hiding.
"We will and we will find them, I promise." Harry lent down, kissing the top of her head, her soft, silky hair tickled his chin pleasantly. He was happy, in spite of the danger that threatened them and threatened every witch and Wizard.
"I believe you," Ginny whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I know we will, I know they are okay."
"First we must eat, we have along way to travel," Harry told her, pulling away from her and reaching for his backpack. They needed strength and a lot of it to face what was happening in the world.
***
Harry leapt noiselessly, landing cat like on a protruding rock. Ginny followed, landing just as perfectly as her Husband. The scurried off the rock and waded across a knee deep stream that was underneath it. Reaching the other side they darted into the protection of the tree line, both of them gripping their wands underneath their robes as they moved. There was no flirting with chance now, you were either prepared or you die. Simple as that.
***
I am Severus Snape
A large, Black Panther dived between trees and any other obstacle the forest could throw at him, He had to make it to Hogsmeade, were it all began.
The only sounds to penetrate the thick, misty air were the sounds of snow crunching underfoot. It was cold, bitting deeply into exposed skin, however, Severus did not notice. The thick fur of his Panther body protected him from the icy temperature. He was making good time, it would not be long until he could start again.
The sharp snap of twigs breaking jerked Severus from his run, skidding to a stop he turned crouching into a attack position, poised to pounce.
Voices,
Distant but close, unknown but familiar. Severus strained his ears, to catch the conversation between what sounded like a male and a female.
"It is too dangerous to enter Hogsmeade, he's back, you know he is." The male pleaded but a strong female voice cut him off.
"It can't be him, Harry killed him. It has to be someone else. I can't be him." She repeated as if made it untrue. The male voice was next to continue.
"Then who could it be if it's not him? Who else is that evil? That demented?"
"Ron," The female's tone was exasperated, "Anyone could be that evil, just because they don't use Dark Magic doesn't mean they can't."
"But Hermione," Ron started but stopped instantly. Severus inched closer to the voices, trying to catch any more of the voices, but they were silent.
Making his decision in a split second, Severus forced himself through the thick snow and trees, searching for any sign of the two humans. He knew them, he knew he did, but he wasn't sure why, or how he knew them. He did not remember everything yet.
Just ahead he sighted the outline to two people, walking with their backs to him. He could not have hoped for better luck as he fell into step behind them, keeping a further enough distance that they would not notice him, but staying close enough so not to lose them. He would learn soon the secrets that refused to reveal themselves to him.
He had to know what he had forgotten, it was important, he knew that it had to be.
***
A gloomy light glowed from the middle of a handsome room, cast in grey shadows; however, it looked more like the scene of a horror movie. Sitting at the table in which the light sat upon was a cloaked figure. Hale pounded the window but the figure seemed unperturbed. Alone in a room to vast for them; however their presence seemed to fill every corner of the dark room.
Nothing could be make out of the person inside the cloak, as their head was coved in blackness and the cloak was lose enough to prevent any body shape from being seen. The hood of the cloak was bowed, the person inside deep in thought.
Come my pawns, not much longer now.
Authors Notes: Hopefully this chapter gives some understanding to the Prolouge. Please let me know what you think, what did you like, what didn't you like and what needs work? Feedback always welcome, thanks for reading.
Cager.