A/N: Alright people, here's my first shot at an HP fanfic. I have added my own characters into the mix so I hope you like it. Set in my own version of Harry's 6th year.
I do not own Harry Potter. Deal with it.
Harry Potter and the Alchemist's Dream
A measly fan fiction by the Hellbound Muse
My dear sweet Delphi,
The shadows fall upon this snowy wonderland as I write this to you, my love. New York is so cold this time of year and it brings down my spirits to see such dreary landscape (if you could call it that). It's so cold that even the leaves shiver as walk past them. Thus I sit here with a hot cup of coffee and scarf around my neck in front of a blazing fire to bring you news you may find unsettling. I am leaving.
Indeed it is sad news, for I will not be returning. I intend to live out the rest of my life in England. I apologize for the suddenness of this sorrowful letter but what must be done must be done and, alas, such is fate that it brings me to the very place that we met so very long ago.
Also, it ways heavy upon my heart to tell this grave news: Rune, your mentor, has died. He was killed in a duel with another one of those blasted bounty hunters. But he died in his homeland of Kyoto, in front of dozens of spectators. He suffered a warrior's death, as he would have wished. No doubt they'll be after me next.
You need not worry about my health or money either; I am getting a job as teacher at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry as an Alchemy professor. Those British snobs finally decided to go modern and teach a real arcane science. My colleague, Albus Dumbledore, is the headmaster there and assures me I will be welcome at Hogwarts. He says you can visit during the year if you wish.
By the way, inform the council that I will not be joining them for the holidays this year. I will instead, be staying with my old friends, the Malfoys. I still hope that Lucius is out of that whole "death eater" business. That Voldemort is as flimsy as a wet sponge as far as leadership goes. He's lucky he's so good at killing people or he wouldn't have anyone to rule over. Ha, a tricky bastard he was last time we met. I still think I can top him again.
On that note, I have progressed greatly in my magical abilities. My subvocal casting is perfect and alchemy is as easy as it was when Rinn died. God, I miss that man. The greatest Dragoon this world will has and will ever see. I still wonder if his old dragon, Wraith, is out there somewhere.
The maids are now packing my things. I leave you now with this: I love you and come see me some time. Perhaps it will be warmer in Britain.
Et malos requeiem,
Jonathan Rhyst, Master of Alchemy