A/N: Hello, everybody, this is my second fic for Harry Potter, and I hope
you like it. Also, I'm very much known to leave out words from the time to
time, and often misspell words, so if you find anything that needs to be
fixed, please tell me in a review and I'll fix it as soon as I get it.
Thank you.
* * * LEGEND * * *
A little head peered up to glance curiously at the face above her. The young girl looked into the old woman's eyes.....................beautiful pale blue eyes with a hint of dreamy gray in their midst. The lass found them breath taking, for as they did hold their sadness and failure, there was something that lingered............something that rose up and conquered the evils of this world, against all the odds. Of course, it was not just specified to this world. There was another world, a magical spectacular world, full of legend, myth, fantasies and stories folded in the crevices of it's past, hidden to the muggle world and all their ways of life. It was unspoken of here, for hardly a muggle soul knew about it, and those that did never spoke of it, unless in private. Even then, their words expressed all of the longing, fear, malice, and loving regard for the ones who kept it alive all these years.............and this was all said in the same conversation, time and time again.
You see, time is twisting and changing.........well, who really knows what it is. It leaves ever-fixed marks here and there, and going by too slowly for some, and too quickly for most. It is impossible to stop, and rare to pause, though the latter is available only in the world of magic; Magic that is forbidden here, even by those who hold it the dearest regard, such as herself.
"Magic that is forbidden here.........,"
The old woman had not noticed the meaningful words that came out of her mouth at that precise moment, not until the crystal clear eyes below her suddenly possessed confusion and wonder. She wanted to be told, the woman knew. She closed her tired eyes and slowly breathed out, releasing the pain of old age, and as she drew breath she took in the wisdom she'd held all her life...................the long, long years of her life. They were filled with so many emotions, too many to create a list, and she had not the strength. She would tell the story however; it needed to be told to the young girl who sat at her feet, gazing up intently, with her stormy gray eyes waiting patiently for her lips to part once more. Finally they did, but before beckoning the child to come nearer.
"Come closer dear, and I shall speak of a tale that is dear to me, for it is all true."
She placed a pale palm on top of the girl's scalp and began to entwine the shinny hair with ease. It seemed as if the weaving of the strands would help her to weave the story to her granddaughter.
"I must go far back, darling, and into the lands of an alternate universe. It's a witching world that holds all you can imagine and more. There, along with here at times, was were the warlocks and witches dwell and many creatures that you've seen only in your dreams.........and perhaps a few from your nightmares. Long, long ago, before the birth of my own, an old warlock prophesied an occurrence. Belfast Limerick was his name, and he had a strange yet powerful vision whilst strolling around the sea one clear evening. Nightfall soon came and the harvest moon hung high in the sky, yellow and round. An abrupt light shone through the sky, and Belfast took it to be a shooting star. But he was deceived. The light came nearer and nearer, when hundreds of images came into his sight.
In the twilight there stood six young men and women (Three of each), each holding a different weapon, yet the mesmerizing look of determination held fast onto every fair face. They spoke to him, as his vision began to blur, about how hope would rise again, and told him neither to fear the darkness, nor to stray away from the light, for it would be the salvation of the world. And then, as soon as they had appeared, they were gone, and a scroll was placed into the hands of Belfast, which he did not open until, he reached his home."
The old woman paused for a second, finished with one braid. She moved a steady hand to the other side of her granddaughter's head and began once more to thread.
"As soon as he reached the castle where he resided, took the scroll out of his pocket, and read it over and over again. Deciding to write of how the prophecy came to be, he took out his own parchment and recorded how the scroll came to him. He spoke of the message to all he came upon after that, though few believed him. Somehow Belfast did not mind, for in his heart he knew it was true, and the epistle they had sent him gave him a great comfort. He died no less than five years later, for he had already reached a milestone or two concerning the years of his long-lasting life.
The prophecy that was not to be forgotten was lost. History became legend and legend became myth. For centuries, the scroll passed out of all knowledge...............until, of course, it was discovered by one of the most greatest wizards of all time....................Albus Dumbledore."
She was interrupted by a burst of curiosity, though it was not her own.
"But Grandma, what was written on the scroll? What exactly was it that was prophesized?"
"Hush, dear, you'll know in good time."
The old woman glanced up at the clock that sat atop the large mantelpiece; almost midnight.
"Oh, I fear we'll have to save that for tomorrow night...............perhaps we'll start earlier eh? Get a bit more of that story in."
Her granddaughter nodded reluctantly, not wanting the mystery to end. She was thoroughly engrossed with the tale, already falling in love with it. Placing a quick peck on her grandmother's wrinkled cheek, she stood and headed up the glossy mahogany stairs that lead to her room, anxious for the following night's tale to ensue.
* * * LEGEND * * *
A little head peered up to glance curiously at the face above her. The young girl looked into the old woman's eyes.....................beautiful pale blue eyes with a hint of dreamy gray in their midst. The lass found them breath taking, for as they did hold their sadness and failure, there was something that lingered............something that rose up and conquered the evils of this world, against all the odds. Of course, it was not just specified to this world. There was another world, a magical spectacular world, full of legend, myth, fantasies and stories folded in the crevices of it's past, hidden to the muggle world and all their ways of life. It was unspoken of here, for hardly a muggle soul knew about it, and those that did never spoke of it, unless in private. Even then, their words expressed all of the longing, fear, malice, and loving regard for the ones who kept it alive all these years.............and this was all said in the same conversation, time and time again.
You see, time is twisting and changing.........well, who really knows what it is. It leaves ever-fixed marks here and there, and going by too slowly for some, and too quickly for most. It is impossible to stop, and rare to pause, though the latter is available only in the world of magic; Magic that is forbidden here, even by those who hold it the dearest regard, such as herself.
"Magic that is forbidden here.........,"
The old woman had not noticed the meaningful words that came out of her mouth at that precise moment, not until the crystal clear eyes below her suddenly possessed confusion and wonder. She wanted to be told, the woman knew. She closed her tired eyes and slowly breathed out, releasing the pain of old age, and as she drew breath she took in the wisdom she'd held all her life...................the long, long years of her life. They were filled with so many emotions, too many to create a list, and she had not the strength. She would tell the story however; it needed to be told to the young girl who sat at her feet, gazing up intently, with her stormy gray eyes waiting patiently for her lips to part once more. Finally they did, but before beckoning the child to come nearer.
"Come closer dear, and I shall speak of a tale that is dear to me, for it is all true."
She placed a pale palm on top of the girl's scalp and began to entwine the shinny hair with ease. It seemed as if the weaving of the strands would help her to weave the story to her granddaughter.
"I must go far back, darling, and into the lands of an alternate universe. It's a witching world that holds all you can imagine and more. There, along with here at times, was were the warlocks and witches dwell and many creatures that you've seen only in your dreams.........and perhaps a few from your nightmares. Long, long ago, before the birth of my own, an old warlock prophesied an occurrence. Belfast Limerick was his name, and he had a strange yet powerful vision whilst strolling around the sea one clear evening. Nightfall soon came and the harvest moon hung high in the sky, yellow and round. An abrupt light shone through the sky, and Belfast took it to be a shooting star. But he was deceived. The light came nearer and nearer, when hundreds of images came into his sight.
In the twilight there stood six young men and women (Three of each), each holding a different weapon, yet the mesmerizing look of determination held fast onto every fair face. They spoke to him, as his vision began to blur, about how hope would rise again, and told him neither to fear the darkness, nor to stray away from the light, for it would be the salvation of the world. And then, as soon as they had appeared, they were gone, and a scroll was placed into the hands of Belfast, which he did not open until, he reached his home."
The old woman paused for a second, finished with one braid. She moved a steady hand to the other side of her granddaughter's head and began once more to thread.
"As soon as he reached the castle where he resided, took the scroll out of his pocket, and read it over and over again. Deciding to write of how the prophecy came to be, he took out his own parchment and recorded how the scroll came to him. He spoke of the message to all he came upon after that, though few believed him. Somehow Belfast did not mind, for in his heart he knew it was true, and the epistle they had sent him gave him a great comfort. He died no less than five years later, for he had already reached a milestone or two concerning the years of his long-lasting life.
The prophecy that was not to be forgotten was lost. History became legend and legend became myth. For centuries, the scroll passed out of all knowledge...............until, of course, it was discovered by one of the most greatest wizards of all time....................Albus Dumbledore."
She was interrupted by a burst of curiosity, though it was not her own.
"But Grandma, what was written on the scroll? What exactly was it that was prophesized?"
"Hush, dear, you'll know in good time."
The old woman glanced up at the clock that sat atop the large mantelpiece; almost midnight.
"Oh, I fear we'll have to save that for tomorrow night...............perhaps we'll start earlier eh? Get a bit more of that story in."
Her granddaughter nodded reluctantly, not wanting the mystery to end. She was thoroughly engrossed with the tale, already falling in love with it. Placing a quick peck on her grandmother's wrinkled cheek, she stood and headed up the glossy mahogany stairs that lead to her room, anxious for the following night's tale to ensue.