Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter this is just a fanfic
A/N:First fanfic please let me know what you think, if you like it i'll have more up by the weekend :)
Darkness Rising
It was night, close to dawn as far as he could tell, the star daubed sky now littered with swirls of crimson; chasseing the moon far within the shrouds of despondent darkness and murky twilight; Its gallant twin beckoning the first smouldering rays, licking the land with all their glory.
Six years...six god damn years and still he lived; Voldemort's defeat hanging freshly in mind, along with the sickening scent of burnt flesh and hollowing madness accompanying death with every turn. While everyone else perished HE their 'savoir' lived; why? What was left? What purpose must he perform while everyone else was at peace; perhaps damned to a life filled with loneliness and regret, which was Voldemort's true curse; in away, he'd already won from the moment the last of them fell.
Of course a scattered few survived most badly injured some now shackled within the depths of their own minds, ha what was left to them anyway.
All Voldemort's doing, cascading a long shadow of death and destruction within his path, enough to make a once blissful soul long for the day it too would depart; And that was the worst curse anyone could cast... the curse of time.
Time of course should be thought of as a circle and nothing more than a repetitive motion that bound all together with no ending or beginning; causing history not to repeat it's self but to just catch up with the cycle if you will. War has always been war through out all periods of time, no similarities nor differences, to put it blandly, war. Not mattering when or where the event happened but the circumstances of which that particular event took place, again one in the same.
So how could he the famous Harry Potter still live while everyone he had held dear reside in death? Repetition, originating from the very death of his parents at just one year of age to now the death of his beloved friends at 17, time is the true murderer.
"He's been like this for hours" sighed Malfoy, lazily glancing at Headmaster Griffith from the corner of his eye. Griffith was a tall, thin man with a pale complexion to match his tussled platinum hair spiking out from every direction. After Professor Dumbledore had been so mercilessly slaughtered by Voldemort, the night of the final battle Aidan Griffith had taken command of Hogwarts.
Heir to old Godric himself, Professor Griffith had wisdom beyond his years, his appearance only giving off a mid fifties look but his calm hazel eyes told a different story. Griffith himself had never actually taught Harry, his arrival just after Harry's seventh year but due to dealings with the order Aidan had been able to in stow somewhat of a guidance into the young Auror, a mentor of sorts.
Draco too had become on friendly terms with Harry ever since the year after they'd graduated from Hogwarts and become full fledged wizards. Lucius, Malfoy's father had attempted to force Draco into becoming a Death Eater and serve the Dark Lord, he'd reluctantly declined (with a little help from members of the order, Harry especially) and with much persuasion from Dumbledore joined the order.
With all said and done those two had now become the best of friends, yet with maintaining senseless pride it hadn't been something that had happened over night. There was still the same old bickering only in a more some what civil sort of manner if that was at all possible, either way these past few years Draco had done a lot for Harry, since the others deaths he'd become one of Harry's closest and only friends.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wasn't really used as much of a teaching facility these days, since the out break of war it'd became more of a safe haven for those mostly of muggle blood. Most of its professors where dead now, well all of them except Snape but he was in no condition to be of much help to anyone. Harry's most feared potions professor and Dumbledore's most trusted spy reduced to a snivelling pile of flesh.
It was Harry who'd found him while patrolling the Forbidden Forest for the order one night, about a year after the war had broken out just lying there unmoving, barely breathing.
At first he had thought his sallow skinned greasy git of a potions professor to be dead but the phlegmatic rise and fall of his chest told otherwise.
Voldemort must have been exceptionally irritable that night they'd discovered after examining Snape's wounds thoroughly. Physically there hadn't been to much wrong with him; a couple of healing potions and a few days of rest would've taken care of the damage inflected by the Cruciatus Voldemort so happily bestowed among him.
As for mentally who knows, it became apparent days after his external wounds had healed that there'd been something else wrong; Snape still hadn't shown any sign of regaining consciousness.
He just lay there in agony emitting blood curling screams and feverishly thrashing about as if trapped within the depths of his own mind, than again perhaps he was.
From what they could tell it was most likely a potion Snape ingested but with Poppy gone they were at a loss of medical treatment and had now way of knowing what could be done. He was the potions master after all.
It eventually became so bad Professor Griffith resorted to calming charms as a method of sedation, his screams now reduced to low whimpers.
Harry still visited Snape often as he now permanently resided in the hospital wing of Hogwarts; He'd felt partly responsible due to the fact it was his very blood used to resurrect Voldemort in his forth year.
"Harry my boy, perhaps you should get some rest?, you haven't slept in days" spoke Headmaster Griffith worryingly as he shifted his gaze slightly to the window of Professor Snape's cubical where a now slightly despondent raven haired boy sat slouched, staring out at the rising sun.
"I'm FINE sir" his curt reply somewhat firmly for his usual temperament.
"Having nightmares are we, Ha the famous Harry Potter afraid of closing his eyes, now I've heard it all!" Draco quipped in his usual sadistic manner as he to had been watching the situation unfold, knowing very well that Harry had developed a fear of sleep, constant vision's of death haunting his dreams transforming them into arid nightmares in which he couldn't escape. In that reason alone they'd taken to keeping a close watch on him, ever since the Dark Lord's defeat Harry seemed somewhat more distance for his usual cocky Gryffindor self.
"Malfoy, back off" barked Griffith before grasping an amethyst vile from a near by shelf and handing it to Harry.
"It's a dreamless sleep potion." He'd stated simply while escorting the boy to a near by bed, and holding the bottle up to his lips to drink. This time he didn't resist, recollecting how the cool liquid slithered down his parched throat plunging him deep into the depths of oblivion.
"Come Draco" Professor Griffith motioned to follow after double checking Harry was indeed asleep.
"What is it sir?" Draco questioned once outside the hospital wing's pale doors and into the large stone walls of a Hogwarts corridor.
"When Harry has regained consciousness it is of utter most urgency that I require a conference with both of you in my chambers, until that time you are relived of your duties and are to do as you please, Oh and the password's aurora"
"Thank you sir" He muttered before ascending down the long sloping path to his quarters on the eastern side of the castle, hoping to gain a little sleep before their meeting with Griffith.
"Hello Ares" Aidan greeted as he undid the sterling clasp from his cloak and deposited it on a near by chair in his office.
Ares was a cold fire or more commonly know as a crystal phoenix, his plumage a silvery blue with deep sapphire tail feathers and a cobalt score near the base of its wings. Like most species of phoenixes their tears have healing properties however they have been know to summon snow and ice storms at will. Unlike most phoenixes they prefer cool damp places and lack tolerance to high temperatures.
Ares chirped a greeting before sticking out one of his legs to revel a letter tied securely in between feathers.
Aidan unfastened the letter earning a disgruntled squawk from Ares and proceeded to his desk before opening the crumpled parchment.
Aidan,
We've concluded with our raid on McNair's manor today only to find several Death Eaters dead on the floor; Looks like this might have been one of Voldemort's old meeting places. Further investigation have lead us to discover obscure writing torn from a book; we believe Voldemort had some connection with, Do you recognize it? By the look of it dates back to well before medieval times. Though the parchment is a little worse for ware it should be sufficient enough to read, we've had it translated into what now resembles English, and is as follows:
One will rise
Where two now lay
Cascaded by shadow within
Of blood
Of lust
Of death
Guide not by scarlet dagger
Hide not by emerald cloak
For to you it may deliver
The curse
Draw forth that of quick silver
To save his mind
Where darkness concedes
And his heart resides
Only quarrel will ease the pain
Not of mind
Not of heart
But of life
Where fire and ice entwine
Mercury resides
Between heaven and earth
You shall find the key
In that of time it's self
Words shall be your savoir
At a price must that be paid
One sacrifice is needed
To that of hell it's self
Of that of cloak and dagger
Of that of sun and moon
Of that of emerald crimson
Ensnare the darkness
Preserve the light.
Make any sense to you? Sounds like hogwash to the rest of us.
Best of luck, Allan J. Quatermain
"Most peculiar Ares, most peculiar"
Voldemort's Manor: 10 Years ago
"Crucio" Voldemort hissed grinning manically at his favourite play thing, now lying in a crumpled heap at his feet.
"Your pathetic Serverusss, sssnivelling like a mere child. What's gotten into you?"
"I...I'm s....sorry my lord" his reply hoarse and just above a whisper, trying his best simply to remain conscious, fighting off the blurred imagery and searing pain that racketed his body into another agonizing fit of convulsions.
"I have no tolerance for failure Serverusss! CRUCIO!!!"
Ah if they could only see him now the great Serverus Snape cowering on the floor begging for his life, they'd laugh, god how they'd all be grinning from ear to ear at the very site of him, so helpless so diminutive. What anyone wouldn't pay to see Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry's arrogant git of a potions master reduced to a blubbering pile of flesh. He'd of lingered on that thought further if the listless world around him hadn't faded into darkness and he slowly felt himself fighting to retain consciousness and loosing pitifully.
"Luciusss"
"Yes my Lord" a hint of satisfaction in his voice as he mustered a low bow, his long ivory hair flowing in all directions.
"I have decided Serverusss might ssstill be of sssome use to me; wake him up and get him out of my sssight."
"At once my lord"
Malfoy quickly grasped the tail of Snape's cloak before apparating, in hopes of not further upsetting his master.
Once under the cover of the dense forest underbrush Lucius flipped Snape unto his back and propped him against a near by tree.
"Ennervate" He snarled positioning his wand so that it made close contact with Serverus's chest, now drenched with both sweat and blood; than disappeared into the darkness.
Serverus awoke with a gasp, his lungs now desperately trying to retain oxygen and emptying any blood or bile that prevented them from doing just that onto the forest floor; his throat raw, lamented with blood's metallic taste as the scarlet liquid trickled down his lips, his stomach convulsing violently, forced to have give up it's contents hours before, now substituting with what ever fluid it could sacrifice.
After what seemed like decades Serverus finally managed to stumble his way through the Hogwarts gates and down to his dungeons, stopping every few steps and depending heavily on the walls to keep him from hitting the floor; somewhat grateful no professor or student had been on the prowl at such an ungodly hour.
Muttering the password he gingerly entered his chambers, the walls were clad in emerald green and outlined with a large four poster bed of solid mahogany. Barely having time to turn down the thick black quilt at its foot before collapsing instantly; welcoming the darkness that awaited fore tonight he wouldn't dream nor worry about nightmares that had already been endured.
"Come on Ron were gonna be late potions next!" Hermione growled pushing aside a strand of thick bushy hair that had been stubbornly obstructing her vision. As Hogwarts infamously nicknamed 'golden trio' now hurdled their way through the long winding hallways towards Professor Snape's potions class; hidden deep within the chilled secluded dungeons, most likely the absolute drabbest place within the entire school.
"Why does it matter? That greasy haired git's just going to deduct points if we so much as look at him the wrong way." Ron had always loathed the arrogant perhaps even cruel potions master, partly because of his unfair treatment to everyone who wasn't in his own house and partly because of the way he treated Harry, ten times worse than the rest of 'em
"We've still got to pass, so we may as well get this over with" Harry sighed as they rounded the dungeon corner to see Snape's door still indeed open.
"Well...well if it isn't Harry Potter coming down to mingle with the commoners and look his little fan club a little mudblood know-it-all and a Wesley, How pathetic no sense of class these days." Quipped a rather sadistic blonde haired Slytherin from the back of the room, grinning smugly while watching the three Gryffindors take their seats.
"Back off Malfoy" hissed Hermione choosing a seat near the very front than setting down a large assortment of textbooks, inkwells and quills, Harry and Ron on either side of her.
She than began her morning ritual of selecting a quill, now arranged by both colour and type in alphabetical order. Once decided she withdrew a bluish inkwell that had been deemed most appropriate for taking today's notes.
"That's odd its Snape's not here yet, class started nearly an hour ago." Harry whispered amidst the dull chatter of students voices, most of which in deep conversation of where the potions master could be.
"Maybe he's sick and isn't coming back" grinned Ron trying his best to envision a half dead Snape being dragged off to the hospital wing.
"Ron! How dear you speak ill of a professor like that, you..." Only to be interrupted by a rather pale (if that was at all possible) looking Snape slam the door with seemingly less force than the usual bouncing off the hinges.
He'd seemed to be limping, well staggering was more like it; deep ashen circles proclaiming themselves wildly around his eyes and his hair seemed oddly messier than normal, strands sticking out in all directions.
"Class dismissed" He snarled in a somewhat laboured tone but not missing the all too familiar sarcasm that came with his words, typical Snape.
Everyone seemed to stare as if in a trance like state, Snape never let any of his classes out early, who was this man and what had they done with their potions professor? The Slytherins seemed the most affected, shocked with their head of house's peculiar behaviour.
"I SAID GET OUT NOW!!!"
This time no one objected and gathered their things quickly before departing most likely to their common rooms to spend an hour off, some grinning at themselves at their luck.
"Wow! What's gotten into Snape he must be sick if he's letting us off an hour early. Ah he deserved what ever he got."
"Ron!" Hermione shot him a rather annoyed glace, infuriated at how he could speak so cruelly about any one even if it was Snape.
Harry just shook his head, those two fought like an old married couple; deciding it best to ignore them somewhat afraid to take sides.
"Uh guys..." Hermione stopped abruptly glancing back at the dungeons below.
"I forgot my quill back in Snape's classroom, it was a gift from my grandfather so I'd better go back to get it.
"You do that; well see you back in the common room Hermione" they were gone before she could respond.
"traitors"
Present: Headmaster Griffith's Office
"Harry, Draco, thanks for coming on such short notice I have much to discuss with you." Griffith sighed motioning for them take their seats in front of his desk.
Harry scanned the room, he'd known at one time as Professor Dumbledore's office, it was small and cozy with walls made entirely of oak and still held most of Dumbledore's strange contraptions that littered the shelves. Even though the place had been gutted to make room of some of his own things Aidan had even gone so far as to keep the same rather familiar bowl of lemon drops on the side of his desk to make it seem more homely, even though he himself did not fancy them much.
"Lemon Drop?" Griffith questioned eyeing a somewhat calmer but drowsy Harry as he took his seat.
They both shook their heads,
"Ok well, it has to do with a letter I've received earlier today from one of my most trusted correspondents out there, He has reason to believe that Voldemort may still............be alive." Watching sadly as a look of pure panic once again proclaimed Harry's exhausted features.
"But that possible? Harry destroyed Voldemort well over a year ago, I.......I was with him."
"Look I know very well what you thought you saw but I'm almost positive he survived, just like the first time only..."
"Only what Aidan?" Harry now regaining enough composure to speak, that same questioning but determined look in his eyes, glinting of pure courage and trust for his friend.
"He may have gone back in time...to stop you before you even learned the Oculus Inferum charm."
"The one you used to destroy him correct?"
"Yes"
Harry sighed than reached a hand over to stroke Ares's long silvery feathers, who'd now perched on the arm of his chair as if for moral support.
"I guess you both now what I'm about to ask of you? God I hope it isn't too much"
They both nodded solemnly in understanding before Griffith reached into his robes and pulled out a long claret box, than withdrew a golden hourglass from its depths. A long chain glittered violently along the outer workings of the hourglass; he placed it around their necks before turning it upside down and giving it three taps with his wand.
"God speed both of you" Griffith muttered before turning his head as the room erupted in a golden light, the two occupants in front of him vanished before his eyes.
'
Hogwarts: Ten years ago
Draco winced as the world faded into view, he'd hit something hard and cold for that matter,
"Still here Potter" Acknowledged only by an annoyed grunt to his left side
After feeling that they could trust their feet once more both boys withdrew them selves from the cold hard floor in hopes of getting better bearings of their location;
"Professor Snape's potions class; just how far did we go back?" Harry scanned the room to reveal the all too familiar dungeon classroom where he'd spent most of his days as a Hogwarts student having points deducted on behalf of the Gryffindors.
"Professor Snape I left my quill here and came back to..." Both heads jerked at the direction the new voice was coming from.
"Harry....but...you...your...upstairs!?"