Chapter 1
Without Hope
Many years ago..
It was a crisp autumnal day with the frost lacing the world with a white sparkle, while the sun shone weakly through the white sky. The leaves were falling in an occasional cascade of copper brilliance. A small house lay on the edge of a large forest; leaves piled high at the walls. Smoke snaked up from the chimney. Inside, in a dimly lit room lay a fair-haired woman on a bed. She looked pale, and exhausted, but her blue eyes were focused lovingly on a small child cradled in her arms. The child had startling blue eyes, and a dark crop of black hair. Beside her, stood a plump woman holding another child. Her eyes sparkled as she rocked the tiny baby, "Twins, sister. Twin boys. Let me just get another blanket for him. Like two peas in a pod. Congratulations. You got names for them?" "Richard, and Robert. After father and grandfather." She replied, stroking the sleeping infant by her side. Her sister went out to a small side room, still holding the second smiling twin. Just then, there was a loud knock on the door and a tall black-clothed man entered and smiled. He wore a long, dark cloak that swept the floor. He quickly went to the bedside and reached out to hold his son. "Robert and." whispered his mother, she tried to go on, but was too tired. "Hush dear," her husband said, his dark eyes just gazed adoringly at his son. He didn't believe that there was a more beautiful thing in the whole world. Those that knew him would not have believed the stern man could ever smile or look so happy. Behind him a strange man looked over the happy couple. The father looked at his wife and then back at his son. He smiled widely, and then reached over to kiss his wife. She smiled back, and then fell back on the piled pillows that surrounded her. She had a beautiful face, with pale soft skin, a small nose, and red, exotic looking lips. Her eyes closed and she slept. The father tucked the baby next to his sleeping wife and walked quietly through to another room, where the strange man was now sitting, shutting the door gently behind him. The strange man was old with a grey beard that stretched out over his purple robes. He was wearing a maroon cloak and emerald green boots, but not the sort you would buy in a shop in town. They were made of dragons hide, for this elderly man was a wizard. And not just any wizard. His name was Albus Dumbledore and he was the head teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which was in his opinion the best school of wizardry in the whole of the world. But then he was rather biased. "Congratulations" smiled Dumbledore, "A fine son, he has his mother's eyes, and your face. I can see him becoming a great wizard, like his father". "Maybe" replied the proud father, "but I hope he doesn't make the same mistakes as I have done, what I did was wrong, I see that now, and if there is anything I can do to make amends." Dumbledore interrupted him gently, "The Ministry of Magic will decide, but you needn't worry about your son. He is innocent. You will be able to teach him the way he should go, and with a mother like Shona, he will be the luckiest boy in England. I hope there will be many more to c." A sharp, terrible scream interrupted their happy conversation. "Shona!" the father shouted. He threw open the door. The window was open and on the bed lay Shona, her arm lying loosely over the side of the bed. Her eyes stared unseeingly at the cracked ceiling. They both rushed to her side. In her arms lay the tiny baby also dead. "Dead," said Dumbledore quietly. He took a note from her outstretched hand. He read in her own blood,
I will avenge those who betray me. Those you love will suffer for you
Lord Voldemort
The father fell to his knees. Dumbledore rushed to the other door. He opened it. Inside slumped on the ground was Shona's sister. Dumbledore bent over her lifeless body and stroked her cheek. Her mouth was open in a silent scream of horror. Her wand was still in her outstretched hand. Dumbledore returned wretchedly to the bedroom. He looked upon the terrible scene, his heart anguished. He left the room, leaving behind the devastated husband, his face buried in the chest of his murdered wife. Outside in the dim, green light that streamed through the small window, Dumbledore looked older. The bright sparkle had gone from his eyes and he looked like an old man, although he was not that aged in years. He tapped his wand once and shortly an owl appeared through a small window, and sat on his shoulder. He quickly wrote a note, tied it to the leg of the owl, which looked as if he was used to such things, and then gave the owl a whispered message. Then Dumbledore let his head fall into his hands and waited. Eventually the man emerged form the bedroom, as the setting sun was filling the room with a bloody gold. The smiling happy man had died. Instead was a man existing without hope.
Without Hope
Many years ago..
It was a crisp autumnal day with the frost lacing the world with a white sparkle, while the sun shone weakly through the white sky. The leaves were falling in an occasional cascade of copper brilliance. A small house lay on the edge of a large forest; leaves piled high at the walls. Smoke snaked up from the chimney. Inside, in a dimly lit room lay a fair-haired woman on a bed. She looked pale, and exhausted, but her blue eyes were focused lovingly on a small child cradled in her arms. The child had startling blue eyes, and a dark crop of black hair. Beside her, stood a plump woman holding another child. Her eyes sparkled as she rocked the tiny baby, "Twins, sister. Twin boys. Let me just get another blanket for him. Like two peas in a pod. Congratulations. You got names for them?" "Richard, and Robert. After father and grandfather." She replied, stroking the sleeping infant by her side. Her sister went out to a small side room, still holding the second smiling twin. Just then, there was a loud knock on the door and a tall black-clothed man entered and smiled. He wore a long, dark cloak that swept the floor. He quickly went to the bedside and reached out to hold his son. "Robert and." whispered his mother, she tried to go on, but was too tired. "Hush dear," her husband said, his dark eyes just gazed adoringly at his son. He didn't believe that there was a more beautiful thing in the whole world. Those that knew him would not have believed the stern man could ever smile or look so happy. Behind him a strange man looked over the happy couple. The father looked at his wife and then back at his son. He smiled widely, and then reached over to kiss his wife. She smiled back, and then fell back on the piled pillows that surrounded her. She had a beautiful face, with pale soft skin, a small nose, and red, exotic looking lips. Her eyes closed and she slept. The father tucked the baby next to his sleeping wife and walked quietly through to another room, where the strange man was now sitting, shutting the door gently behind him. The strange man was old with a grey beard that stretched out over his purple robes. He was wearing a maroon cloak and emerald green boots, but not the sort you would buy in a shop in town. They were made of dragons hide, for this elderly man was a wizard. And not just any wizard. His name was Albus Dumbledore and he was the head teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which was in his opinion the best school of wizardry in the whole of the world. But then he was rather biased. "Congratulations" smiled Dumbledore, "A fine son, he has his mother's eyes, and your face. I can see him becoming a great wizard, like his father". "Maybe" replied the proud father, "but I hope he doesn't make the same mistakes as I have done, what I did was wrong, I see that now, and if there is anything I can do to make amends." Dumbledore interrupted him gently, "The Ministry of Magic will decide, but you needn't worry about your son. He is innocent. You will be able to teach him the way he should go, and with a mother like Shona, he will be the luckiest boy in England. I hope there will be many more to c." A sharp, terrible scream interrupted their happy conversation. "Shona!" the father shouted. He threw open the door. The window was open and on the bed lay Shona, her arm lying loosely over the side of the bed. Her eyes stared unseeingly at the cracked ceiling. They both rushed to her side. In her arms lay the tiny baby also dead. "Dead," said Dumbledore quietly. He took a note from her outstretched hand. He read in her own blood,
I will avenge those who betray me. Those you love will suffer for you
Lord Voldemort
The father fell to his knees. Dumbledore rushed to the other door. He opened it. Inside slumped on the ground was Shona's sister. Dumbledore bent over her lifeless body and stroked her cheek. Her mouth was open in a silent scream of horror. Her wand was still in her outstretched hand. Dumbledore returned wretchedly to the bedroom. He looked upon the terrible scene, his heart anguished. He left the room, leaving behind the devastated husband, his face buried in the chest of his murdered wife. Outside in the dim, green light that streamed through the small window, Dumbledore looked older. The bright sparkle had gone from his eyes and he looked like an old man, although he was not that aged in years. He tapped his wand once and shortly an owl appeared through a small window, and sat on his shoulder. He quickly wrote a note, tied it to the leg of the owl, which looked as if he was used to such things, and then gave the owl a whispered message. Then Dumbledore let his head fall into his hands and waited. Eventually the man emerged form the bedroom, as the setting sun was filling the room with a bloody gold. The smiling happy man had died. Instead was a man existing without hope.