Before this story begins, let me make something very clear.
I am no Saviour. No 'Champion of Justice' or 'Chosen One'. Heroism isn't my style.
What causes this story is not Destiny or other such nonsense. No prophecy foretold my actions and no songs shall be sung of my actions after it is done. This was a thing of chance, and at the time that it occurred, I thought of it as bad luck
Neither was any of my decisions made through altruistic means. The primary decision was made through desperate need and a will to survive.
I was born in the dark, and in the dirt. I lived a life of fear, and learnt to run and to hide before I could walk.
No family to speak of, I decided myself an adult at the tender age of twelve.
At the age of 14 I was given a chance to escape the monstrosity of The Dark Lords rule.
I grabbed it with both hands and ran.
My name is Emrysa Devere
And this is how I saved the world.
I ducked through the makeshift alleyways of crumbled buildings of the cesspool that used to be London. Flicking my short hair out of my eyes I pressed myself into a crevice, waiting for the heavy footfalls of my pursuers to fade.
It's the year 2057.
The Dark Lord has ruled supreme for nearly 50 years, since the fall of the 'Chosen One' at the Battle of Hogwarts. The story of Harry Potter and both the first and second wizarding wars circulate as legend amongst the remnants of what used to be a resistance. England has supposedly been purged of all muggle life. I am but one of few children born of magical parents that has evaded capture by the rampant Death Eaters and other servants of the Dark Lord.
The same cannot be said for my parents or my younger brother.
I slump down against the bricks, smearing dirt and grime down the back of my worn hoodie, a stolen wand clenched firmly in my hand. If I could have anything, anything at all, I would have my own wand. Legend tells of the wand choosing the witch or wizard. These days, possessing one in any form is the only thing that will keep you alive.
I let out a sigh, let my head fall back against the brickwork. This constant struggle for survival leaves you nothing but skin and bones, as well as a heavy dose of cynicism.
It starts to rain again, and I push back into my tiny corner, shivering as the wind cuts through my clothes. And then, suddenly, the brickwork gave out next to me as the ground crumbled beneath me. Arms flailing, and hands grabbing for purchase, I fell into the darkness of whatever lurked under London.
It wasn't a long fall, but enough to send shudders of pain through my body as I landed. Over the years, I learnt to like pain. It meant you were still alive.
Sitting up, I muttered a quick Lumos spell. Spells were shared and picked up in duels, and this was one of my first and still one of my favourites. The large cavernous area that I stood in seemed untouched in comparison to the war torn city above. Moving slowly and carefully, I walked forward, edging around the debris from my fall, trying desperately not to make a noise.
I walked for what seemed like hours, constantly stumbling over rotting slats of wood, despite my guiding light. Until, that is, I saw a set of stairs. Scrambling up the small wall that had kept my path, I hurried up what seemed to be strange corrugated metal stairs. My frantic footsteps resonated easily, and occasionally, I'd freeze, listening desperately for any potential pursuer. Reaching the top of the stairs, I was welcomed by another cavernous area.
Large pillars stood tall and proud on parralell strips of concrete. Cracked screens were everywhere. Obviously a muggle establishment of which purpose, I did not know. Numbers were painted on the walls as I walked through the halls.
6.
7.
8.
9.
I froze. Sitting next to the pillar in between 9 and 10 was a figure.
"Who's there?!" I called out, my voice desperately cracking despite my intended bravado.
The head of the crouched figure turned in my direction, revealing an old and gnarled face to my light.
Steel grey eyes blinked up at me as I moved closer.
"Who are you?" I repeated, glaring down at him.
He gave a rasping chuckle.
"No one knows, not anymore, not even myself" he gasped out "Who are you? Or really, what are you? Do you fight for the freedom…" he trailed of in a hacking cough.
His riddles riled me.
"Yes, I fight for freedom" I replied chin tilted in determination.
His eyes narrowed at me.
"You talk strongly for one so young. Do you walk alone in this fight?"
I frowned down at him.
"I walk alone, but many still do fight the same fight."
He nodded his head slowly.
"This was never meant to be." He wheezed "Destiny was defied and fate rewritten."
In a startling movement his head snapped round to look at me again "Would you choose to rewrite it again?"
I gave a cold laugh
"Would I choose to be able to not run in fear? Would I choose to be able to walk in the sun without watching my back? Old man, what kind of a question is that?"
Eyes narrowed again he reached into his tatters, bringing out a thick leather bound book. Roughly he shoved it into my hands, making me drop my wand. Again, in movements defying his age, he grabbed my wand.
Instantly I was fuming. I had relaxed, let myself get caught out. This kind of thing would get me killed.
"Then rewrite it. Bring about what should have been." He growled as he surged to his feet, my wand pointed directly at me.
I clasped the book to my chest as if to shield myself from the silver light that spouted from the wand and enveloped me. He was muttered something before grinning at me, and in a last ditched attempt I grabbed at the wand, pulling it from his hands, before the silver light pressed in around me and I knew no more.
Give this a chance, please? I may not be a regular updater, but inspiration struck, and I just had to.
I'd really appreciate any feed back :)