Disclaimer- JK Rowling, and those whom she's chosen to share them with, owns the rights to the Harry Potter books and all content in them, including the mention of Hogwarts, its students, and its teachers, not I.
Reviews- Are widely welcome. Constructive criticism is appreciated.
A/N- This story is being written for my own, and your, satisfaction. Enjoy.
A Window to the Future
A bloody battle ended by a brave knight being stabbed in the back by his most loyal friend. As he fell onto his knees to the damp, blood stained ground below, his traitor rode off on the pure white steed he'd arrived on, with no evidence of a battle or betrayal apart from the blood soaked sword held out as if sign of a victory.
Wolfram's eyes began to close, his friend's laughter still ringing painfully in his ears. Just as his upper body gave away, his eyes opened again in terror. The star-crossed incident that had cost him his life would happen again. Not in the same way, and not even in the same time, but to a descendent far down the line of his family tree.
Upon his dying moment, the most prestigious wizard of the time reached out with all his power to deliver a warning to his young descendent of the horrible fate he would meet, and the need for him to put an end to it before it happened to another.
One tantalizing and horribly cruel laugh remained as his powers were drained and he gave his last breath, uttering one last word, "Malfoy.."
Hillel awoke gasping for air, a sharp pain blazing down his back.
He'd been having that same dream since his arrival at Hogwarts, but had never managed to recall it once he awoke. Only the familiar laugh and intense pain ever made it into his conscious.
As Hillel laid beneath the gray sheets of his four poster bed, his thoughts drifted to the day he received his letter of acceptance to the school.
He had been sitting at the splintery picnic table outside, staring glumly at the remains of his birthday cake while the heaven's poured their sympathies down over London, England.
Because of the unexpected rain, his birthday party had been canceled, and despite the risk of becoming ill, ruining the new gray slacks and white button down shirt his mother had dressed him in that morning, and his mother's pleas, he had remained outside to sulk alone. While his mother kept a watchful eye on him from the window above the sink washing their supper dishes, a great tawny owl swooped down from the sky, dropping a letter and allowing it to drop onto his brown head of hair and slip down onto the damp green grass.
The owl wasted no time in taking flight again, eager to find shelter from the rain.
Hillel expressed no curiosity in what the letter held, enveloped in yellow parchment, as he picked it up and finally made his way inside.
He stood at the mat in front of the heavy wooden door that led to their backyard, tossing the letter to a nearby table and allowing the water to run off him and be absorbed by the mat underneath.
His mother bore down on him with a sympathetic smile, wrapping a towel around him and leading him onto the tile floor of their kitchen.
"Sorry, Mum."
She hugged him, then pushed him into one of the metal chairs beside the white table.
"It's okay, son. You were upset."
Over hot chocolate, mother and son talked about the day and its disappointments.
When finally Hillel was slightly less damp, he left his mother with a kiss on the cheek and made his way upstairs, passing the table which the Hogwarts letter lay on without so much as a thought.
Hillel smiled to himself in the darkness of the room. How often does an owl drop a letter on your head? He couldn't believe how thick he'd been, but for whatever reason the letter hadn't managed to hold his interest.. until he found his mother, reeling with shock, staring shakily at the letter in her hand.
"Mum, what's wrong?"
She had looked up at him, with tears in her eyes but a smile on her face.
"Your grandmother was the same. Not many wives could honestly say their mother-in-law was a witch."
"Mum!" Hillel started, a look of absolute shock on his face. "Gran's always been perfectly nice to us, even after Dad left." He stumbled over the last words, fighting to get them out.
His mother laughed at her son, although a familiar feeling of sadness arose from the depths she had hidden it in. Hillel hadn't mentioned his father in quite some time, and vainly she had wanted to keep it that way.
"I don't mean it that way, Hillel. She was like you."
This only brought confusion to Hillel's face.
At this, his mother handed him the letter. He scrunched up his face, as if trying to remember where it had come from.
"Mum, I think an owl dropped that on my head."
With a forced, unusual humour, she managed to choke out, "Worse things could have been dropped".
Casting a peculiar look at her, he tore into the letter and set to read it.
When finally looking up he seemed about to burst from contained laughter.
"Wow, Mum. You'd do anything to cheer me up, wouldn't you?"
It was her turn to wear the confused look. "It's not a joke dear."
Hillel had laughed and refused to believe her.
It remained a joke to him until his grandmother arrived to take his mother and him to Diagon Alley.
"Where are we going, Gran?"
She only laughed, a twinkle in her bright green eyes as she readjusted the artificially colored and kept black curls on top her head she was so proud of.
When she had the greasy taxi driver with expensive rates pull over beside an old pub, even his mother began to doubt the old woman's ways. It had taken the bricks readjusting on the wall outside the pub to finally bring him to reality.
"How'd you do that?" He'd asked, wide-eyed in awe.
The wall hadn't held his gaze for very long when he caught sight of Diagon Alley and the folks who strolled by its shops.
"Mom told me you're a witch, Gran. I guess that makes two of us."
A few chuckles, a ride through the dark caves of the wizarding bank, Gringotts, and many purchases later, Hillel had learned he was a wizard, not a witch, and there were many things in the world that he'd had no idea of.