DISCLAIMER: The following work of Fan Fiction is based upon the Harry Potter Universe which is the work of J.K. Rowling. No infringement of either copyright or financial gain is intended by this work.
The Author owns nothing of the Known or Cannon Characters in this work. Except, perhaps, the idea for this story.
Summary : With the death of his Godfather, what else is there for him when all he has left is his anger against his own Heart's Nobility.
Chapter 1 – Doors and Windows
July 15 1996 – #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey England - The Smallest Bedroom
The night was dark for there was no moon, as the heavy winds blew against the pane of small window causing it to rattle in its frame.
A bright flash of white hot electricity streaked down, accompanied by the rumbling noise of thunder, hitting a power line and severing it. The darkness went further as lamp lights went out around the neighborhood. Large drops of rain accompany the winds efforts as if trying to break down the flimsy glass barrier that separated a young mans room from the turmoil of the storm outside.
But did it matter?
Inside that small dark room, the young man tossed and turned in a restless sleep. It was not because of the storms' din.
Murmurs of pleadings and vague names could be heard from him as sweat poured down his young but tortured face.
Sleep… a moment of relaxation for the body and mind, but, for the young man known throughout to the wizarding world as The-Boy-Who-Lived, it was a mere necessity and, to him, a nuisance to endure.
No… There was no rest for him and, no peace… not even in sleep.
"Sirius… No!" Harry screamed, waking himself from the nightmare.
Panting in huge gasps, he reached over to his side table and groped for his glasses. Putting it on, he wondered why it was so dark. 'Power must be out' he correctly thought.
Finding nothing else to do, he just stared at black expanse that was his ceiling. His tears slowly falling again when he thought he wouldn't … couldn't… cry anymore.
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In a realm not known or the mere human mind can comprehend, a silvery being watched the tears as they fell. Each one breaking his immortal heart as it flowed down from eyes whose color vividly matched a fresh blade of grass.
Everyday, he stood watching… not allowed to interfere… not allowed to whisper comfort… not allowed to guide. Ever since that fateful night, when he protected the son of his charge…
"Altair…" A soft voice called from behind him. "Why torment yourself in watching this mortal?"
Altair stood up abruptly, silver wings whipping through the air before wrapping around him like a cloak as he looked at his visitor.
"Because it's my fault why he is what he is…" Altair answered cryptically.
"I don't understand… " The Serra Celeste asked.
"I was overwhelmed… energized by the magic flowing through my charge… Her love for her son… " He fell silent as Celeste looked on with her bright honey eyes as Altair composed himself.
"I had no control of the way I felt on that night… Here in this place, it's very easy to feel love and safety. But the capacity, the power… to have that much love and hope in the face of sure death…" Tears began to form in pools in his eyes as he remembered the power that flowed through him.
"When she called, she poured all she had… all her magic, her hope and love… I had to protect the little one. It was the cost of it that I forgot."
"What has that to do with being your fault…" Celeste asked confused.
"What I did condemned him to live through life without the guidance or comfort of angels" He finally said.
"What did you do?" Celeste asked her friend in a halting whisper. She was aghast that anyone could have lived unguided or unprotected.
"Since we couldn't interact fully except in whispers, I channeled to him the power and love I felt from his mother… and in the process, a part of me… of us… as well."
"But that would mean…" The Serra Angel's eye widened.
"Yes…he already has great power over darkness and united with the Angelica… I've been a fool to not have seen it, but… I do not regret what I did…" Altair fell silent for a moment and contemplated on the actions he did that night.
"No… I do not regret what I did, nor would I regret what I am compelled to do now…" He said as his ebon black eyes glinted to white. Once again his glorious wings unfurled to their full span.
His silver and gold form glowed in the holy power granted to it in its creation. The light then coalesced to his hand, once again forming his sword of flames.
Celeste stood back in fascination. She was young by the standards of the angels and never before had she seen an Archangel prepare itself for battle. She was entranced… the power Altair wielded was enormous and growing still, but then she realized…"He's not drawing it from the Angelica…?!" she thought in surprise.
… and then she saw it, the well of power in which he was drawing… and she was even more surprised that he was able too, or even allowed to … for the power was coming from the Source of all Eternal Love Itself…
"… Oh my God!"… she whispered in awe as she slowly fell to her knees and wept in joy.
"Hear me, young Harry… feel and now know what you have not known… that which your enemy will never know… for this is your mothers gift… for all our sakes… Live!" Altair then whispered, pouring a bit more of his strength into it in hopes it might break through the council's wards…
… it did…
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AN
Seaghost – My First Reviewer for this Fic! Thank you!
ShrugDuckie – I'm sorry for making you cry and thank you for your review. But, I'd suggest you get a hold of atleast another box… I'm expecting a flood ;-)
Vicc The Blackwolf - This is a completely different story. I have NOT abandoned WotF. But right now I'm stuck with Chap14, I had to delete the entire chapter and rewrite it… and it still didn't turn out the way I'd like it to. The good news is that Chapters 15 – 18 is done, but undergoing a rewrite to polish up a few things. So you could just imagine my predicament.
AN2
I hope I'm not offending anyone's faith or belief.