Disclaimer: I don't own Harry and co. However, this plot is mine and that's cool. Unfortunately, money I will see not, but that's better this way.
1980 - The Fate's Year
Prolog
"Urgh..." moaned a figure that had just appeared in the alley behind the pub. He probably had a understandable reason to moan because he had somehow appeared out of thin air, on the level with the first floor window.
The sound he had made was a consequence of the Gravity Law. He didn't know about all that, and that's not only because he had lost his consciousness, no, indeed it had everything to do with something totally different. The amount of magic that had just flown through his body could easily be compared to the amount of electricity that some unlucky, never assuming bystander would take in by being hit with a lightning bolt.
The person that had just appeared in that dark alley was definitely special – as special as those very few who had survived being hit with said lightning bolt. No, he was even more special then them – he would regain all his mind and body functions, without lasting damage – massive headache not worth mentioning.
Now, the significance of him being where he was could not be easily overestimated. However, a random witch or wizard would most likely dismiss his appearance in the shaded part of that town – not out of indifference, certainly not. He would be dismissed due to a few combined events and one strong, dominating feeling. One - the man had appeared in the dark alley. Two - it was cold and rainy. Three – the whole event took place at night. Four – even the areas around the pubs, like this one, were usually deserted – thanks to the raging war people tended to travel by floo or apparation. Those were the facts and add to all of that the another factor that influenced the minds of the Wizarding Britain, created the enormous feeling among the populace – fear.
People didn't like to talk about the emotion that run deep within them for few past, long years. They didn't like to talk about the responsible for that. Especially the one that started it all – they feared him so much, that they had stopped calling him by the name they had heard he wore – instead they choose to call him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who. It might sound ridiculous to someone removed from the society – but the magnitude of the terror his name brought every time it was mentioned and the fact that actually everyone knew Who those titles referred to, spoke volumes about the person behind this name and the destruction and pain his appearance guarantied.
So, the traveler was unconscious, therefore quiet and he didn't notice that the back door of the pub attached to the alley slowly cracked open. It would be an eerie sound if not for the rain splashing loudly on the rooftops of the buildings around or even louder wind fighting its way through the nearby trees on the outskirt of the town.
But the crack had been made and with that came the stream of warm yellow light from the inside. It brightened the gloomy area, illuminating the person lying on the ground. After a moment of the quiet stillness the door had been pushed open to its wide and a wand exited the house followed by a young woman. She lit her wand creating a stray of white aura and carefully directed it around the dark shadows. Nothing moved, she was grateful for the rain because it would allow her to see any invisible objects, there were non. Assuring herself that nothing seemed to be lurking ready to attack, she hesitantly moved to see the body on the ground. She didn't rush, even if it wasn't moving it still could pretend, just to trick her.
That's a stupid thought. Why would he be lying on the mudded, wet ground if he wanted to jump you. He wont attack you, so stop fretting and help him. You can see he's not armed, for Merlin's sake, he's naked!
Well, the person indeed was naked – it could be easily explained... Well, maybe not so easily. It would require few charts and drawings, plus rather extensive knowledge in Runes and Arithmancy. It could be, however, assumed that to travel that distance, crossing not only space but also the fourth dimension - time, one would have to make tones of calculations, create personalized spells and artifacts. That all was needed to send only one entity – living flesh, not only that, but one specific flesh – this flesh. To send additional items would require additional years of hard work. And knowing the person that was lying naked on the wet ground, patience was not his virtue – it was a man of action, and will be again when he is strong enough. But to that happened he would need some help, and the only person that could help him was currently turning him around to look who he was and what was wrong with him.
The man was heavy, definitely so. It was hard to turn him especially that she still had her wand lit which removed magic from aiding her. The man was wet from the rain and dirty with mud.
"Hey, sir. Are you alright?" Shaking him seemed to have no effect.
He looked to be in his mid thirties, but could be older since it is harder to tell the age if the person's hairs are totally shaved.
Or maybe he's bald?
It is even harder to gauge the age using the wandlight. The man had few scars around his body that were visible even with the poor light, most noticeable were the two on his face. One right on his forehead, a lightning bolt shaped one and the other on his left cheek starting right below his eye almost touching its corner. He looked war weary, but it wouldn't tell her much in the circumstances the Wizarding World was.
He could be one of the Death Eaters. She thought with a shudder. But could you just leave him here and not help when you are capable of doing it? Just take him inside, at least he wont freeze to death in the house and you can floo St. Mungo's for a healer. Stop thinking and help him woman. He's cold as ice. Do you want to have him on your consciousness? Do something! Move!
She jerked to action extinguishing the light. The body was lifted with a muttered incantation and after a few seconds the light from the door vanished leaving the alley shaded in dark again. The rain intensified, the wind blown stronger in the silent victory. Nature restored the balance of the area by absorbing the residue magic and erasing any and all evidence that some body cracked through the fabric of existence.
"You're dirty and cold. But I wouldn't be able to hold you in the tub so the Scourgify must be enough for now. I'll put you in bed in a minute. You'll be actually a first man in my bad. Well, not the first man in my bed, but first man in this bed. And with the pub now and all the war. You know how hard it is to trust anyone. You'll meet a bloke, go out with him and the next thing you know you've been mobbed or worse you realize you've been obliviated. And what then? Nine months later you become a mother? That is if they leave you alone. What if you wake up in some dirty cell? No, thank you! If you run a pub, you hear enough about that. And You mister! You still could be a Death Eater."
She was applying the charm to clean him as best she could. Unfortunately she didn't know any specific cleaning charms. And the fact that she was talking to him, well, she tended to talk a lot.
"But you are no Death Eater, right? I've heard that they have some kind of tattoo somewhere. His mark, that skull or something. Well I can clearly see that you don't have any tattoo. And don't worry I've checked. And you don't have any glamour on you, right? I'm not sure of my counter charms for glamours but I think that it would work."
The clean body was levitated to the bed in the corner of the small bedroom.
"See, all better now. One warming charm on the sheets and you should be fine. I must tell you that I was rather good with charms. My transfiguration on the other hand is hopeless. Now you lay here and rest and will go and floo-call the Mongo's. I'm sure you're going to be alright."
The woman left the room and went to the living room to the only fireplace connected to the floo network.
With a handful of the special powder and a shouted "St. Mungo's Hospital!" she trusted her head into the fireplace.
Nothing happened.
The flames did turn green. She didn't have any burns and all her brown hairs were still where they should be.
With a slight worry she repeated the process twice with the same results.
Nothing had happened.
She slumped dejectedly on the floor in front of the mocking fireplace. It happened again, someone had sabotaged the floo connection and she didn't have the slightest idea where the Mungo's actually was to apparate, also she didn't want to leave the stranger in the house.
Entering the bedroom again she sat on the chair she brought, a mug of hot coffee in hand. The man's forehead was warmer but not hot. He seemed to regain some of his colours.
"Come on mister, wake up. Wake up and tell me that you're a good guy." She mumbled into her coffee watching for any indication that he was waking.
"You're quite a handsome bloke. Even if you don't see your average wizard shaved as you are. Actually, I think I've seen only one other bald wizard. Maybe he's some friend of yours. That young black Auror. King something. Do you know him? He seemed like a nice man." She sighed. "Oy! Wake up!"
"Mmmm..."
She was so startled that she spilled some of the coffee on herself.
"Hey, mister. Can you hear me? Do you know what happened? You're in Hogsmade in The Three Broomsticks actually. You've just appeared nearby. Who are you?" She did talk a lot. But the rest of what she wanted to say froze in her throat when he opened his eyes and the most wonderful deep green eyes caught her attention.
"Please don't be Death Eater." She mumbled. And then lauder "Hey there. My name is Rose. You are in my pub now. You had some kind of accident, I tried to call the Mungo's but the floo is down again. Do you remember who you are?"
He seemed to have some problems with focusing on her and she unconsciously leaned closer still looking into those beautiful eyes.
"H..." he cleared his throat a few times and tried again. "I'm Harry. Thank you... for helping me.."
"It was my pleasure. Do you need anything? Do you want me to try and contact someone. I don't know when the floo will be up, but I can try."
"No..., not yet..., too weak.." He licked his lips a few times and Rose realized that he was thirsty. She looked around frantically for something to drink.
"Here. I hope you like Butterbeer, sorry but that's the only other thing apart from hot coffee."
He took a few gulps of the sweet drink and exhaled slowly.
"Thanks."
"Do you need anything?"
"Could you tell me, what date is it today?"
That had her flood. Lots of random thoughts started running at his bizarre question. One worse than the other. Was he kidnapped? Tortured? She knew that it happened to seemingly random people. They usually vanished into the thin air, almost never to be found again. Everybody heard if they managed to rescue anyone. Did he manage to escape by himself? Wow.
"It's 28th of November," Rose started hesitantly, "1979."
She smiled when he smiled hearing the date.
"There's still time." With that the world of dreams took him.
oOo
AN: I know that most of you who read "The End..." will want to skin me but please let me explain. This prolog is the reason that I didn't update lately. It is a thought that had been bugging me so much. There will be at least one chapter of this story before I continue "The End..." I mean I just have to let this plot to be saved for future continuation.
Of course I ask you to Review. Because authors do like reading what you think. No matter what others say if something is being posted on the Internet, it is posted because the author would like to read a response from his readers.
Ok, I'll stop that rambling now and just ask again: Review.
