Harry Potter and the Powers of the Ancients: Prologue
Disclaimer: There are extremely few things within this fanfiction that you will find is mine. I stress, 'Fanfiction' because, indeed, I am but making a disastrerous try at creating a sixth-year story, based on the books, Harry Potter. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. The awesome creator of the Harry Potter series. (This is not appearing again.)
A/N: Most spells used in this fanfiction have non-meaningful words created by me. Except the spell 'Avara Kedavra' the ressurection charm, taken from the hebrew, 'Avara Ke-Adavra' meaning 'I create as I speak'. The Avada Kedavra curse was also taken from the hebrew 'Avada Ke-Adavra' meaning 'I kill as I speak', but J.K. Rowling may have taken it from somewhere else.
Also, I do not have an especially good memory, so I may forget certain key events within the books, or within this story.
WARNING! IF YOU HAVE NOT READ ANY OF THE HARRY POTTER BOOKS, INCLUDING, "THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX" THEN PLEASE LEAVE AND READ THEM NOW! I WILL NOT (CONCIOUSLY) EXPLAIN WHAT IS HAPPENING UNLESS IT IS NOT EXPLAINED (IN DETAIL) IN THE HARRY POTTER SERIES.
If you did not understand the earlier statement, you shouldn't even be here.
Well, Harry reading, reader. (P.S. That spelling mistake was on purpose)
-Hilel.
The gently swaying, green grass covered the rolling hills. A few tall, evergreen, trees could be seen in the distance, seeming as if they could touch the sky. The white clouds periodically blocked out the sun's harshness as they floated in front of it, and moved away again. The peaceful surroundings seemed like they could be coming from a dream world. The horrible truth, that, in fact, it was a dream land, would shatter the mind of the only human in this land.
The one person gazed lovingly at the sky, revelling in the soft touch of the wind on his face, his black hair ruffling slightly as the wind passed through it. His mind seemed far away, as his piercing, emerald green eyes were dull, and lifeless.
He was startled out of his reverie as the world around him went dark, as if night had fallen in the blink of an eye. He looked around, unconcerned, this had happened many times since he had come here. He could never remember what happened during this time, however, as when he woke up again, it was a sunny day. However, he was becoming worried at what happened next. The air became cold, and he began shivering. A different life flashed before his green eyes, paralysing in it's sadness.
"NO! Take me! Please, Take me instead!" He shivered again, nothing to do with the cold this time. He was remembering a past, one he would rather forget.
Harry Potter was waking up from his dementor induced slumber.
Harry Potter had been held for almost six months in the cell in the ministry. They had been planning to send him to Azkaban Prison, but when the Dark Lord had broken into Azkaban to free Lucius Malfoy, and several of his other Death Eaters that had not broken out with the Lestranges, Cornelius had to send him to the holding cell, guarded by the few dementors he had left.
The Dark Lord had now started a campaign to attack, and destroy, Albus Dumbledore, and Hogwarts castle. He had, unfortunately, gained the assistance of many magical creatures, and had ample forces to destroy Hogwarts. Only the defensive wards that were on Hogwarts itself stopped him from attacking.
He growled as he remembered how Potter had turned to the dark, how he had killed ten of his best aurors, which had turned the tide of the war, in Cornelius's eyes. (The war was ALWAYS in favor of the dark side, He, the concieted git, just thought that they were winning.) He smiled then, as he thought of how well his plan to make the wizarding world trust him even more had worked. He had sent an investigation as to why Potter was the only one unscathed at the battle in the Ministry of Magic. He had planted false evidence that it was Potter that had killed Black, and there was to be a trial. But Potter had killed the aurors ment to bring him to court. Showing his true colors, and leaving no doubt about his allegiance. Just like Black himself.
"Open the doors." Cornelius ordered as he waltzed up to the cell holding the prisoner. The guards jumped to do his will. He smiled, they had indeed been put right in the palm of his hand. His incompetent act, while convincing, was not entirely true. It had saved him many times, when he should have been ousted from the position of Minister for Magic.
The heavy iron, outer door opened squeakily, as if it hadn't been opened in months, which, in truth, it hadn't. He didn't want the dementors terrorising the people, now did he? As he stepped inside the long, dark, hall, he nodded to the second guard, telling him to unlock the second door. On cue, a dementor glided up toward him from one side of the hall.
He shivered slightly at the cold the dementor brought with it, and tried to shut out the images that were flashing before his eyes. The second guard had unlocked the door by this time. He motioned for the dementor to follow him, as much as he wanted to be away from it, and stepped through the door - just as heavy as the last one.
There, on the floor, in tattered, dirty, wizards robes, was Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived.