A/N- Hey everyone! Yet another Harry Potter Fanfic of mine! Hehehe.Have
fun! I know the first chapter is really short, but the second is longer,
promise!
Chapter One- Pouring Rain and Broken Portkeys
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No, it couldn't be.
Rain poured from the heavens, merciless and cruel. The field had become a span of mud and puddles, nothing more, and one could get stuck walking through it. Mist hung in the air, the humidity from the rain and heat like a choking blanket. Oak trees near by whispered in the wind, their great branches bent away from the grayed heavens. It was brighter out than the sunniest of days, but a dark aura hung over the area. Like a cloud was descending upon it to snatch away all life.
Or maybe it already had.
A boy, almost a man, struggled to keep moving. His tennis shoes, worn with age, got caught in the mud almost every minute. His glasses were long gone, broken beyond repair. Then again, there was that spell Hermione taught him.what was it? Oh well, didn't matter now.
He slipped, hitting the ground hard. His cheek burned, despite he had fallen on mostly wet grass and mud. Lightning flashed somewhere above, fallowed by an earsplitting roar of thunder. He pushed himself up, groaning with the ache in his arms, but began running again. There was a horrid knick in his side, and his lung burned.
He wasn't going to make it.
Voices sounded behind him, harsh and loud. Curses, both verbal and magical, where thrown his way as the Death eaters continued after him. Who would have though that after he defeated Voldemort, he'd still be in danger? Everyone always talked off a giant battle, something glorious where both sides stood against the other. But no, Harry Potter faced the dark lord alone, and now he was going to die.
Goddamn irony.
He saw the forest before him, trees struggling against the winds, and his hope was renewed. The portkey he left there was only a bit away. If he could reach it.
The tree branches whipped wildly around him, as if to throw him back to the death eaters, and a quick glance behind his back showed Harry that they weren't very far behind anyway. He ran desperately, knowing he was so close.if only he could reach out a bit farther.
There! An old shoe sat abandon among the roots of an old oak tree, innocent. He slid towards it as though sliding into home base, grabbing it in his right hand. Any moment he expected the familiar tug that always made him sick, to land safely somewhere within the Hogwarts grounds. Any minute now.
It wasn't working. Why the hell wasn't it working?! Harry looked at the thing, making sure it was his old boot- same worn leather, tear where the big toes should have been. He shook it vigorously, hoping it would work.
No such luck.
He glanced up, realizing the death eater were almost upon him. This wasn't good, this so wasn't good. He had expected to die fighting Voldemort, was prepared for it, but now that he had won.
He looked up into the eyes of a faceless white mask, and prepared to die.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Minerva McGonagall found Severus Snape, she was more frightened than she had been in years. True, they fought each other ruthlessly, but it was only for game. Their rivalry brought out the spirit in both of them after having seen far too many battles in their long life times. She had taught Severus in her first few years of teaching at Hogwarts, and ever since had trusted him completely.
And one must admit it would be frightening to find him curled up on the floor of his study, clutching his upper arm and whimpering uncharacteristically.
She was lucky to have found him, for any later and Poppy's healing potions wouldn't have done anything for Severus. She then fallowed Dumbledore to check upon the Slytherins, only to find many of the seventh and sixth years in similar states. The younger years were trying to cure them, try to protect their own, but to no avail. They easily gave up the fight, moving back to the dorms as teachers created stretchers for them all.
Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be the only ones not affected, much to everyone's surprise. They quickly helped the teachers move their friends, before going back to defend the younger students. Always trust a Slytherin to protect another Slytherin.
Healing potions were given to all, though it was far into the afternoon when all the moans died down. The teachers returned to their lounge, with the exception of Snape and Pomfery of course, and collapsed into their favorite chairs. What could have caused this? Had Voldemort caused a massacre again? Was something wrong?
That was when Harry's portkey decided to work, and he came crashing down from the ceiling onto the table.
News of Voldemort's defeat came nearly two weeks after it had actually happened. The Wizard world rejoiced as they had nearly sixteen years before, but were still skeptical. Would the Dark Lord rise again? Why had it taken so long for someone notice? Who had killed him? Was it Dumbledore, or the Boy-who-lived?
No one knew, but no one really cared. They were thankful for the defeat, but with Dumbledore refusing to comment and the golden boy Harry Potter gone without a trace, there was never closure on the defeat.
Death eaters were rounded up and placed in Azkaban until the last mark faded. Serverus Snape returned to his teaching position at Hogwarts as his title was cleared, and received The First Order of Merlin for his service to the side of light. The "Children of Voldemort" were excused after much counseling. Many did not have families to return to.
But all in all, there was a happy ending. For everyone.
For now.
Chapter One- Pouring Rain and Broken Portkeys
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No, it couldn't be.
Rain poured from the heavens, merciless and cruel. The field had become a span of mud and puddles, nothing more, and one could get stuck walking through it. Mist hung in the air, the humidity from the rain and heat like a choking blanket. Oak trees near by whispered in the wind, their great branches bent away from the grayed heavens. It was brighter out than the sunniest of days, but a dark aura hung over the area. Like a cloud was descending upon it to snatch away all life.
Or maybe it already had.
A boy, almost a man, struggled to keep moving. His tennis shoes, worn with age, got caught in the mud almost every minute. His glasses were long gone, broken beyond repair. Then again, there was that spell Hermione taught him.what was it? Oh well, didn't matter now.
He slipped, hitting the ground hard. His cheek burned, despite he had fallen on mostly wet grass and mud. Lightning flashed somewhere above, fallowed by an earsplitting roar of thunder. He pushed himself up, groaning with the ache in his arms, but began running again. There was a horrid knick in his side, and his lung burned.
He wasn't going to make it.
Voices sounded behind him, harsh and loud. Curses, both verbal and magical, where thrown his way as the Death eaters continued after him. Who would have though that after he defeated Voldemort, he'd still be in danger? Everyone always talked off a giant battle, something glorious where both sides stood against the other. But no, Harry Potter faced the dark lord alone, and now he was going to die.
Goddamn irony.
He saw the forest before him, trees struggling against the winds, and his hope was renewed. The portkey he left there was only a bit away. If he could reach it.
The tree branches whipped wildly around him, as if to throw him back to the death eaters, and a quick glance behind his back showed Harry that they weren't very far behind anyway. He ran desperately, knowing he was so close.if only he could reach out a bit farther.
There! An old shoe sat abandon among the roots of an old oak tree, innocent. He slid towards it as though sliding into home base, grabbing it in his right hand. Any moment he expected the familiar tug that always made him sick, to land safely somewhere within the Hogwarts grounds. Any minute now.
It wasn't working. Why the hell wasn't it working?! Harry looked at the thing, making sure it was his old boot- same worn leather, tear where the big toes should have been. He shook it vigorously, hoping it would work.
No such luck.
He glanced up, realizing the death eater were almost upon him. This wasn't good, this so wasn't good. He had expected to die fighting Voldemort, was prepared for it, but now that he had won.
He looked up into the eyes of a faceless white mask, and prepared to die.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When Minerva McGonagall found Severus Snape, she was more frightened than she had been in years. True, they fought each other ruthlessly, but it was only for game. Their rivalry brought out the spirit in both of them after having seen far too many battles in their long life times. She had taught Severus in her first few years of teaching at Hogwarts, and ever since had trusted him completely.
And one must admit it would be frightening to find him curled up on the floor of his study, clutching his upper arm and whimpering uncharacteristically.
She was lucky to have found him, for any later and Poppy's healing potions wouldn't have done anything for Severus. She then fallowed Dumbledore to check upon the Slytherins, only to find many of the seventh and sixth years in similar states. The younger years were trying to cure them, try to protect their own, but to no avail. They easily gave up the fight, moving back to the dorms as teachers created stretchers for them all.
Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be the only ones not affected, much to everyone's surprise. They quickly helped the teachers move their friends, before going back to defend the younger students. Always trust a Slytherin to protect another Slytherin.
Healing potions were given to all, though it was far into the afternoon when all the moans died down. The teachers returned to their lounge, with the exception of Snape and Pomfery of course, and collapsed into their favorite chairs. What could have caused this? Had Voldemort caused a massacre again? Was something wrong?
That was when Harry's portkey decided to work, and he came crashing down from the ceiling onto the table.
News of Voldemort's defeat came nearly two weeks after it had actually happened. The Wizard world rejoiced as they had nearly sixteen years before, but were still skeptical. Would the Dark Lord rise again? Why had it taken so long for someone notice? Who had killed him? Was it Dumbledore, or the Boy-who-lived?
No one knew, but no one really cared. They were thankful for the defeat, but with Dumbledore refusing to comment and the golden boy Harry Potter gone without a trace, there was never closure on the defeat.
Death eaters were rounded up and placed in Azkaban until the last mark faded. Serverus Snape returned to his teaching position at Hogwarts as his title was cleared, and received The First Order of Merlin for his service to the side of light. The "Children of Voldemort" were excused after much counseling. Many did not have families to return to.
But all in all, there was a happy ending. For everyone.
For now.