Chapter 2 - Faultless Moment
He knew the bird was there before he even opened the door. He knew what the letter would say before he even broke the seal. And he knew his own answer too. Nobody could say that he had lost control of his life. Nobody could say that he was a failure, ever, ever again. Nobody could hurt him more than he had already been hurt. He put down the letter.
What would they be expecting - a young looking boy with no more than a name to give him credit? He knew that they certainly wouldn't be expecting what he had become. But that was typical of the community that he had once lived in. He absently rotated the white gold ring on his little finger, exposing glittering gems. He didn't notice, he was still thinking about how to go about with what he had planned.
Would they think he was still a child? After all they did to him?
He sighed and stood up from his lime green couch, turning off the blaring television; he couldn't think when the bloody thing was shouting down his ear.
Would they think that they could control him? After all the lies they'd already told him?
Turning around he noticed that the street lamps were off, he walked over to the door curiously, wondering if something 'magical' was going on. He could do with a bit of decent entertainment.
Would they truly think that they were still his friends, or even acquittances?
No, nothing magical; just a failed circuit. He sat down again; restless.
Did they think that he was going to save their puny arses, or were they just trying to make whatever savoir they had got themselves look good in front of what they were expecting him to be? He could just imagine it; "This is Harry Potter, he beat you-know-who! If he can do it so-and-so must be able to!" If they thought that then they were fools out searching for fool's gold; in the end they'd only have dirt and a be a mile away from any water. Nothing good would come of it.
He tossed the invitation, if it could be called that, into a roaring fire that appeared quite spontaneously in the middle of his lounge room. He had promised himself over and over; never again.
Deciding that there was nothing to loose in doing so, he ambled over to his writing desk, not quite sure... In the end boredom won and he sat down quietly; thinking. How to write the letter? Be bitter, twisted, sad and regretful? Be pleased, willing to go and lick their shoes, again? Be angry, furious, tell them to go f~ck themselves? Privately he liked the last choice, but, it would hardly suit his purpose. Perhaps he could be noble; 'I don't want to go back, but I'll do it just to save the world's frikkin arse!' edit the 'frikkin' bit and it looked promising, he though to himself.
He smiled, but it wasn't a sweet, relieved smile at finally being accepted. It was the smile of a predator that knows it's about to taste blood; a smile of pure satisfaction. (A/N: whenever I hear that word I think 'BENNI BENNASI!')
After a few trials and quite a lot of errors, he came up with a draft. A bit more drafting and a letter with minimum amounts of 'language' was produced. The next morning when they woke up, they would find a snowy owl sitting at the end of their bed, a cream envelope attached and a quick (seemingly) reply.
Chers Monsieur et Madame Weasly,
Il m'a donné plaisir de recevoir votre lettre hier pendant l'après-midi. Je voudrais vous visite demain pour discuter la position d'enploi.
Merci
H. Potter
(Roughly {Very, very, very, very roughly} translating into:
Dear Mr and Mrs Weasly,
I was pleasantly surprised to receive your letter yesterday
afternoon, and would be honoured to come to discuss the job
position with you tomorrow.
Thankyou
H. Potter)
(A/N: Sorry! Just trying out my French on you! If any of you happen to have French as your first language, do you think it might be possible for you to tell me if the above makes any sense what so ever? I would be really thankful if you did.)
They would wonder why in the world Mr. Potter had written in French and never really come up with a conclusive solution. They would, however, be delighted by the contents of the letter and immediately reply.
Chers Harry,
Pardon je ne parle pas très bien Francais. We're delighted
to have you back, it's been terrible lonely without you,
and we've both missed Gryffindor winning the house cup
every year since you left! It will be wonderful to see
you, thankyou for accepting our invitation. See you
tomorrow!
Hermione
(Sorry, I don't speak French)
As he read the letter the next morning he couldn't help snorting; 'since you left' he hardly had a choice. Sebastian sneered at the paper before him and crumpled it up into an unrecognisable ball of matter. Glaring at it he chucked it out the window. One less problem to be solved, he wished all of his problems were as easy to fix, it would be great to just chuck 'em out the window along with the now not-ball-of-parchment.
Gryffindor hadn't been winning then? Good he thought vindictively they deserve it.
It wasn't that he disliked all Gryffindor student of the present and mostly past, if he met one he wouldn't be holding their house against them, but none the less. He just thought that they were all lying, cheating, backstabbing, idiotic, brainless, gutless, cowardly, weak, spineless, deceiving, tricking, swindling, foolish, senseless, stupid and moronic individuals. Dim-witted creatures that they were, it was probably a compliment to them.
He sighed as he realised that it was time to go. Collecting his new books on Ancient Greek Curses by Gothward Greenstay and New Age Hexes, Curses and Charms by Felicity Hardings he threw a few other things in a rucksack and turned off all the electricity ready to go. He paused at the doorway and looked back at his flat. He was guessing that he wouldn't be seeing it in a while. He wiped away a fake tear.
Checking that he had a bus pass, money; Galleons as well as Pounds, pence and shillings, and identification in the unlikely event that he was hit by a bus, he walked out and slowly shut the door behind him. A new day. A new world. But the same old me he thought sarcastically before apparating abruptly.
~~
The sunlight made the castle seem to glow in early morning, illuminating the features of the turrets with an almost surreal effect. The lake only magnified the result, shimmering deep bullion, like liquid gold.
It was in that faultless moment, that the former Harry Potter learned that perhaps, he could start again, if his old... acquittances... were prepared to meet the man that was now Sebastian Black.
~^.^~
He knew the bird was there before he even opened the door. He knew what the letter would say before he even broke the seal. And he knew his own answer too. Nobody could say that he had lost control of his life. Nobody could say that he was a failure, ever, ever again. Nobody could hurt him more than he had already been hurt. He put down the letter.
What would they be expecting - a young looking boy with no more than a name to give him credit? He knew that they certainly wouldn't be expecting what he had become. But that was typical of the community that he had once lived in. He absently rotated the white gold ring on his little finger, exposing glittering gems. He didn't notice, he was still thinking about how to go about with what he had planned.
Would they think he was still a child? After all they did to him?
He sighed and stood up from his lime green couch, turning off the blaring television; he couldn't think when the bloody thing was shouting down his ear.
Would they think that they could control him? After all the lies they'd already told him?
Turning around he noticed that the street lamps were off, he walked over to the door curiously, wondering if something 'magical' was going on. He could do with a bit of decent entertainment.
Would they truly think that they were still his friends, or even acquittances?
No, nothing magical; just a failed circuit. He sat down again; restless.
Did they think that he was going to save their puny arses, or were they just trying to make whatever savoir they had got themselves look good in front of what they were expecting him to be? He could just imagine it; "This is Harry Potter, he beat you-know-who! If he can do it so-and-so must be able to!" If they thought that then they were fools out searching for fool's gold; in the end they'd only have dirt and a be a mile away from any water. Nothing good would come of it.
He tossed the invitation, if it could be called that, into a roaring fire that appeared quite spontaneously in the middle of his lounge room. He had promised himself over and over; never again.
Deciding that there was nothing to loose in doing so, he ambled over to his writing desk, not quite sure... In the end boredom won and he sat down quietly; thinking. How to write the letter? Be bitter, twisted, sad and regretful? Be pleased, willing to go and lick their shoes, again? Be angry, furious, tell them to go f~ck themselves? Privately he liked the last choice, but, it would hardly suit his purpose. Perhaps he could be noble; 'I don't want to go back, but I'll do it just to save the world's frikkin arse!' edit the 'frikkin' bit and it looked promising, he though to himself.
He smiled, but it wasn't a sweet, relieved smile at finally being accepted. It was the smile of a predator that knows it's about to taste blood; a smile of pure satisfaction. (A/N: whenever I hear that word I think 'BENNI BENNASI!')
After a few trials and quite a lot of errors, he came up with a draft. A bit more drafting and a letter with minimum amounts of 'language' was produced. The next morning when they woke up, they would find a snowy owl sitting at the end of their bed, a cream envelope attached and a quick (seemingly) reply.
Chers Monsieur et Madame Weasly,
Il m'a donné plaisir de recevoir votre lettre hier pendant l'après-midi. Je voudrais vous visite demain pour discuter la position d'enploi.
Merci
H. Potter
(Roughly {Very, very, very, very roughly} translating into:
Dear Mr and Mrs Weasly,
I was pleasantly surprised to receive your letter yesterday
afternoon, and would be honoured to come to discuss the job
position with you tomorrow.
Thankyou
H. Potter)
(A/N: Sorry! Just trying out my French on you! If any of you happen to have French as your first language, do you think it might be possible for you to tell me if the above makes any sense what so ever? I would be really thankful if you did.)
They would wonder why in the world Mr. Potter had written in French and never really come up with a conclusive solution. They would, however, be delighted by the contents of the letter and immediately reply.
Chers Harry,
Pardon je ne parle pas très bien Francais. We're delighted
to have you back, it's been terrible lonely without you,
and we've both missed Gryffindor winning the house cup
every year since you left! It will be wonderful to see
you, thankyou for accepting our invitation. See you
tomorrow!
Hermione
(Sorry, I don't speak French)
As he read the letter the next morning he couldn't help snorting; 'since you left' he hardly had a choice. Sebastian sneered at the paper before him and crumpled it up into an unrecognisable ball of matter. Glaring at it he chucked it out the window. One less problem to be solved, he wished all of his problems were as easy to fix, it would be great to just chuck 'em out the window along with the now not-ball-of-parchment.
Gryffindor hadn't been winning then? Good he thought vindictively they deserve it.
It wasn't that he disliked all Gryffindor student of the present and mostly past, if he met one he wouldn't be holding their house against them, but none the less. He just thought that they were all lying, cheating, backstabbing, idiotic, brainless, gutless, cowardly, weak, spineless, deceiving, tricking, swindling, foolish, senseless, stupid and moronic individuals. Dim-witted creatures that they were, it was probably a compliment to them.
He sighed as he realised that it was time to go. Collecting his new books on Ancient Greek Curses by Gothward Greenstay and New Age Hexes, Curses and Charms by Felicity Hardings he threw a few other things in a rucksack and turned off all the electricity ready to go. He paused at the doorway and looked back at his flat. He was guessing that he wouldn't be seeing it in a while. He wiped away a fake tear.
Checking that he had a bus pass, money; Galleons as well as Pounds, pence and shillings, and identification in the unlikely event that he was hit by a bus, he walked out and slowly shut the door behind him. A new day. A new world. But the same old me he thought sarcastically before apparating abruptly.
~~
The sunlight made the castle seem to glow in early morning, illuminating the features of the turrets with an almost surreal effect. The lake only magnified the result, shimmering deep bullion, like liquid gold.
It was in that faultless moment, that the former Harry Potter learned that perhaps, he could start again, if his old... acquittances... were prepared to meet the man that was now Sebastian Black.
~^.^~