p class="MsoNormal"strongspan lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Rather ominous ay? Well, here we go, a new story, a new mistake :D and hopefully this time with holidays ongoing a finished one. So, I don't actually know if I'll truly abandon my other one, but school has been stressful, tests have been difficult and private time rather short because of it, so I didn't truly have the drive or the inspiration to continue writing it. Thankfully it only has three chapters, though I do have some more on my hard drive I may eventually upload when excuses finally and hopefully stop ailing me. With the holidays now finally starting I may actually finish this one. It has been a thorn in my mind for a while. Even have a plan and draft for it, as short as it may be, so motivation is there when boredom prevails. I hopefully can keep this style of writing up (I do usually have a habit of changing things randomly throwing others off, I blame it on all the different kinds of essays and writing forms I had to write within school). There's honestly not much else to say, hope you enjoy it, and constructive feedback is always welcome, even if a bit negative :)/span/strong/p
p class="MsoNormal"strongspan lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Disclaimer – J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, I am just using her world as a playground and making a poorer more confusing story out of it, since I have nothing better to do/span/strong/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"On a night where darkness reigned supreme, where screams could be heard across the lands, where ashes could be seen falling from the sky, where people and animals alike sought shelter, telling themselves that it was only a nightmare soon gone by, a child was born. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Birth, a moment cemented in pain so as to remember forever the good that came because of it. A single moment stretched infinitely long, painfully long, yet remembered only in its final moments. Those moments where life greets the light, where life greets the wind that carries the smells and seeds, where it gets its first glimpse of darkness. A moment otherwise beautiful, otherwise fondly remembered by most, turned out to be a nightmare for a certain child. A child that shouldn't be, couldn't be. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Cursed, alone, and scarred, it made its first sounds to an empty room, a room having just lost its only other semblance of life. The sounds travelled across the furnished room, it had a regal look to it, outfitted with rich fabrics, an array of patterns and colours all blending perfectly together, yet the atmosphere it gave off wasn't one of a homey feeling, representing the generations of people have lived in it, but of a distant, cutoff, and cold judgemental atmosphere. It seemed to taunt its only living resident in its quietness and cold look, its furnished wooden floors and millennia-old furniture creaked with the babies' cries, presenting all those who would come upon it with an eery melody. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"The baby, barely a few minutes old had seemingly been able to feel this energy coming off the room, this haunting, cruel, and accusing wind that howled in a room without any open windows. And it reacted, in the only way it could, in the only way that would always be instinctual to it, that would always calm it. It lashed out. But not with screams nor with its tiny fists, but something stronger, something older than time itself and yet new, it used magic. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Were one to be there to witness this moment, this single point in time that would forever mark the future, one would see nothing, feel only the wind getting milder, its eerie howls reducing in noise and see the previously dark room lighten just a tiny bit more. Were one to be there they would hardly notice anything, yet there were those who could feel it. The old still ruling fossils were some of them, new contenders most of them, and forgotten monsters only one of them. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"In a castle, besieged by the Scottish Highlands on one side and a large murky lake on the other, an old man sat in his favourite chair, the only one he never had to improve, that would always feel just right, even without magic, was petting his favourite phoenix. Contemplating their relationship of pet and master, wondering who truly was the master, a bird, older than any written word, as mysterious as that owl that would always swoop into his office, stealing his priced lemon sorbets when he wasn't looking and gone as soon as a cat who had gotten its prey, that Fawkes had always insisted truly existed and that he was but too old to notice. Or the old and battered shell of a wizard once known throughout the world as the strongest, the most learned, and perhaps the one with the best clothing style, and an old man could dream after all. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"He was so deep into his thoughts, that he didn't even think for a single passage of time about the prophecy, Tom, or even Minister Bagnold and her continuously poor leading decisions in this war of shadows they were currently having. But not too deep to miss it. It was short, almost unnoticeable, and gone as fast as he perceived it, so fast that it made him question if he truly felt it. If it wasn't just an illusion, Fawkes's mischievous side flaring up again, or simply the castle playing a trick on him like so many times before, when he too was but one of her students, traveling her halls and discovering her many secrets, and overlooking most of them. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"But it had felt too different, too distant to truly be them, so old and yet so new, a bit like Fawkes now that he thought about it. Rarely was there something that could surprise a man like Albus, yet when it happened children had better hide beneath their beds, mothers lock out their doors and his enemies hope it had worked, or most likely it was just one of those mysterious flavours of Berti Botts's Beans that one could only chance upon a few times in their life yet could never quite place its taste on anything. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"His instruments and shenanigans within his office that he had either found on one of his travels, gotten from Nicolas, or just made himself, were flaring to life. Some were boiling, some whistling and others just sending out bolts of light, almost blinding the old man in their surprise attack. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Fawkes too had seemed to sense it, but before Albus could ask his Familiar/Master he was gone. A single tail feather of his slowly falling all that remained of him. That seemed to worry Albus only more, for it meant his instincts had been right, and that there was something going on that made even Fawkes panic and worry. Rarely had he seen his phoenix disappear so fast, most often only when he had once again stolen his hat and made a bold escape before Albus could take it back. He never considered that those were just expressions of the poor phoenix's expression of his pet's clothing style, what a shame that on some matters his pet was too stubborn to consider something else. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"But Albus wasn't hopeless without his Familiar, he never was. Taking out old tomes not having seen the light of day since Gellert's defeat, and a few things he had come across on some of his travels that he had considered too dark to be left there alone without protection and set to work. What he did, one could but guess. But old magic was in the air, languages last spoken millennia bounced off the shelves, and artifacts best destroyed were used once again, after a life of bloodshed. Albus wasn't a man who liked surprises or mysteries he deemed too important to not know, so when one of those mysteries appeared and was important enough to make his familiar immediately investigate, he had to know. And Merlin forbids anything came across Albus when he was on one of his investigation sprees, they would soon learn that sometimes definitions of light could be bent and that there was a reason why a man like Albus had managed to cling onto as many political positions such as he had without ever losing even a single one of them. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Somewhere else a man, more monster than truly human, with a body having gone through more rituals than were performed during the last decade had too sensed these strange energies… feelings? His mind was sadly too crazed to truly focus on it long enough to consider it more than with a fleeting thought. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"In a place that has been home to one man and his wife for more than half a millennium, a philosopher, revolutionist, thinker, inventor, and most importantly Alchemist had too picked up on these strange occurrences. His existence was old enough to know their significance, yet too young to remember the last time they had happened. Thinking them to be the results of his current apprentices' nemesis and therefore dismissed them just as fast. The mortal world had long lost its interest to him, and his experiments needed his attention. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Monsters, beasts, and 'immortals' all around the world had felt it, all dismissing them as worth less to their attention than their current dealings. All but one. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Old he was, old he would be, yet young he will someday be. His greed and desires had gotten him this far, and they would bring him even further. And so it was that the disaster of his age had once again awoken to terrorize the mortals of today. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"And so, this dark day had passed, monsters were stirred from their sleeps, mortals paid, and old wizards scried. A child that shouldn't be had been born, alone from the moment of his brith, to perhaps even in death. His legacy one to be remembered throughout the ages, yet the future was written in the present, and the past influences the present, so who knows if he will truly succeed, if his dreams are to be realized, or if he is just like the last one, born to fail and to be forgotten. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"So, join him in his tale, in his journey, for even in failure it would surely entertain you. And perhaps inspire you. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"strongspan lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Disclaimer – J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, I am just using her world as a playground and making a poorer more confusing story out of it, since I have nothing better to do/span/strong/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"On a night where darkness reigned supreme, where screams could be heard across the lands, where ashes could be seen falling from the sky, where people and animals alike sought shelter, telling themselves that it was only a nightmare soon gone by, a child was born. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Birth, a moment cemented in pain so as to remember forever the good that came because of it. A single moment stretched infinitely long, painfully long, yet remembered only in its final moments. Those moments where life greets the light, where life greets the wind that carries the smells and seeds, where it gets its first glimpse of darkness. A moment otherwise beautiful, otherwise fondly remembered by most, turned out to be a nightmare for a certain child. A child that shouldn't be, couldn't be. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Cursed, alone, and scarred, it made its first sounds to an empty room, a room having just lost its only other semblance of life. The sounds travelled across the furnished room, it had a regal look to it, outfitted with rich fabrics, an array of patterns and colours all blending perfectly together, yet the atmosphere it gave off wasn't one of a homey feeling, representing the generations of people have lived in it, but of a distant, cutoff, and cold judgemental atmosphere. It seemed to taunt its only living resident in its quietness and cold look, its furnished wooden floors and millennia-old furniture creaked with the babies' cries, presenting all those who would come upon it with an eery melody. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"The baby, barely a few minutes old had seemingly been able to feel this energy coming off the room, this haunting, cruel, and accusing wind that howled in a room without any open windows. And it reacted, in the only way it could, in the only way that would always be instinctual to it, that would always calm it. It lashed out. But not with screams nor with its tiny fists, but something stronger, something older than time itself and yet new, it used magic. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Were one to be there to witness this moment, this single point in time that would forever mark the future, one would see nothing, feel only the wind getting milder, its eerie howls reducing in noise and see the previously dark room lighten just a tiny bit more. Were one to be there they would hardly notice anything, yet there were those who could feel it. The old still ruling fossils were some of them, new contenders most of them, and forgotten monsters only one of them. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"In a castle, besieged by the Scottish Highlands on one side and a large murky lake on the other, an old man sat in his favourite chair, the only one he never had to improve, that would always feel just right, even without magic, was petting his favourite phoenix. Contemplating their relationship of pet and master, wondering who truly was the master, a bird, older than any written word, as mysterious as that owl that would always swoop into his office, stealing his priced lemon sorbets when he wasn't looking and gone as soon as a cat who had gotten its prey, that Fawkes had always insisted truly existed and that he was but too old to notice. Or the old and battered shell of a wizard once known throughout the world as the strongest, the most learned, and perhaps the one with the best clothing style, and an old man could dream after all. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"He was so deep into his thoughts, that he didn't even think for a single passage of time about the prophecy, Tom, or even Minister Bagnold and her continuously poor leading decisions in this war of shadows they were currently having. But not too deep to miss it. It was short, almost unnoticeable, and gone as fast as he perceived it, so fast that it made him question if he truly felt it. If it wasn't just an illusion, Fawkes's mischievous side flaring up again, or simply the castle playing a trick on him like so many times before, when he too was but one of her students, traveling her halls and discovering her many secrets, and overlooking most of them. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"But it had felt too different, too distant to truly be them, so old and yet so new, a bit like Fawkes now that he thought about it. Rarely was there something that could surprise a man like Albus, yet when it happened children had better hide beneath their beds, mothers lock out their doors and his enemies hope it had worked, or most likely it was just one of those mysterious flavours of Berti Botts's Beans that one could only chance upon a few times in their life yet could never quite place its taste on anything. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"His instruments and shenanigans within his office that he had either found on one of his travels, gotten from Nicolas, or just made himself, were flaring to life. Some were boiling, some whistling and others just sending out bolts of light, almost blinding the old man in their surprise attack. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Fawkes too had seemed to sense it, but before Albus could ask his Familiar/Master he was gone. A single tail feather of his slowly falling all that remained of him. That seemed to worry Albus only more, for it meant his instincts had been right, and that there was something going on that made even Fawkes panic and worry. Rarely had he seen his phoenix disappear so fast, most often only when he had once again stolen his hat and made a bold escape before Albus could take it back. He never considered that those were just expressions of the poor phoenix's expression of his pet's clothing style, what a shame that on some matters his pet was too stubborn to consider something else. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"But Albus wasn't hopeless without his Familiar, he never was. Taking out old tomes not having seen the light of day since Gellert's defeat, and a few things he had come across on some of his travels that he had considered too dark to be left there alone without protection and set to work. What he did, one could but guess. But old magic was in the air, languages last spoken millennia bounced off the shelves, and artifacts best destroyed were used once again, after a life of bloodshed. Albus wasn't a man who liked surprises or mysteries he deemed too important to not know, so when one of those mysteries appeared and was important enough to make his familiar immediately investigate, he had to know. And Merlin forbids anything came across Albus when he was on one of his investigation sprees, they would soon learn that sometimes definitions of light could be bent and that there was a reason why a man like Albus had managed to cling onto as many political positions such as he had without ever losing even a single one of them. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Somewhere else a man, more monster than truly human, with a body having gone through more rituals than were performed during the last decade had too sensed these strange energies… feelings? His mind was sadly too crazed to truly focus on it long enough to consider it more than with a fleeting thought. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"In a place that has been home to one man and his wife for more than half a millennium, a philosopher, revolutionist, thinker, inventor, and most importantly Alchemist had too picked up on these strange occurrences. His existence was old enough to know their significance, yet too young to remember the last time they had happened. Thinking them to be the results of his current apprentices' nemesis and therefore dismissed them just as fast. The mortal world had long lost its interest to him, and his experiments needed his attention. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Monsters, beasts, and 'immortals' all around the world had felt it, all dismissing them as worth less to their attention than their current dealings. All but one. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"Old he was, old he would be, yet young he will someday be. His greed and desires had gotten him this far, and they would bring him even further. And so it was that the disaster of his age had once again awoken to terrorize the mortals of today. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"And so, this dark day had passed, monsters were stirred from their sleeps, mortals paid, and old wizards scried. A child that shouldn't be had been born, alone from the moment of his brith, to perhaps even in death. His legacy one to be remembered throughout the ages, yet the future was written in the present, and the past influences the present, so who knows if he will truly succeed, if his dreams are to be realized, or if he is just like the last one, born to fail and to be forgotten. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"So, join him in his tale, in his journey, for even in failure it would surely entertain you. And perhaps inspire you. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p
p class="MsoNormal"span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;" /span/p