Greetings, dear readers, I am Madoshi !
I am absolutely thrilled to be writing to you today. If you're not familiar with my work, it's likely because I'm a french Fanfiction author who's been penning fanfics in... well... French, for several years!
I've recently undertaken an exciting new venture—translating one of my fanfictions in English. And so, here we are. Just below, you'll have the opportunity to delve into the first chapter of this tale, now rendered in the language of Shakespeare !
I invite and encourage you to leave comments and share your impressions of the text. My hope is that my efforts in translation have resulted in a version that is both linguistically sound and enjoyable for you. I am and will be attentive to your criticisms and comments.
In terms of the story itself, it unfolds as a multifaceted time-travel narrative with Harry and Ginny at its center. Expect to encounter a wealth of mysteries and plot twists as you navigate through the story's 17 chapters (plus an epilogue).
The original french iteration comprises 140,000 words, so you can anticipate a roughly similar count for this english translation.
Finally, given that the entire story is already complete and my current focus is on translation, I aim to present you with a new chapter either weekly or biweekly.
I'm a bit anxious, But I wish you nothing but a thoroughly enjoyable reading experience. Until next time!
My one and only universe
Chapter 1: "Straight into the heart of trouble!"
"RHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
So powerful was the bellow of rage that it echoed thunderously across the plain, overwhelming the clamor of battle and mocking the low grunts of the Trolls. Time seemed to suspend as the outcry lingered in the air. It was a cry that came from the heart, the very marrow of one's being. It was animalistic, savage, and filled with desperation.
Despite the gravity of the moment, hundreds of individuals momentarily shifted their attention, and an unusual silence blanketed the plain. The Death Eaters suspended their assaults, and the members of the Order of the Phoenix exchanged panic-stricken glances.
But this moment of quiet was fleeting. The first Death Eater snapped back to reality and flung a severing spell at the woman standing right before him.
Hermione Granger survived solely by an instinctive reflex to hurl herself to the ground just in time as duels reignited around her.
"Are you hurt?!" Ron inquired, placing himself protectively in front of her, parrying a spell from a Death Eater with a brisk sweep of his wand.
Grimacing face down, Hermione swiftly picked herself up. The young woman seemed far more mature than she was during her final year at Hogwarts: wrinkles marked her forehead and cheekbones, even though she was just 22 years old. Back to back with Ron, they repelled a joint attack from two Death Eaters.
Ron, on his part, had grown broader and taller. His hair remained as red as ever, but his gaze held a more serious and focused demeanor. They both donned combat robes of blood-red, billowing around them with every move they made.
"Was that... was that Harry screaming?" Hermione asked, casting an Expelliarmus at a Death Eater who was accosting Neville a bit further away, her cloak snapping out in front of her.
"Dunno, hope not," Ron replied tersely, conjuring a magical shield around them.
Similar scenes of battle were unfolding all around them. To their right, Neville and Luna were squaring off against three Death Eaters who seemed as unsightly as they were wicked. With a cursory glance, Ron assessed the situation: Neville had just cast the Sausage Spell on the nearest of the two, and Luna was providing cover. Ron judged that they should manage, no assistance needed.
Behind them were his mother, his father, and his brother Fred. All three were also engaged in combat with a trio of Death Eaters. Despite being engrossed and ready to wield his wand, Ron couldn't resist a smile at his brother's fighting style: Eccentric and forceful, Fred performed broad swirls with his arms before releasing his spells. This extravagant style perturbed his adversaries, throwing them off balance.
A spell whistled past his cheek, abruptly dragging him back to the grim reality of the battlefield. No second of distraction was permissible, especially not now.
"I'm going to assist Neville and Luna. Can you check on Harry?" Hermione proposed, still back to back with him.
Hermione felt Ron nodding in agreement.
"Can you cover me?" he asked in return.
Hermione flashed a smile and let out a snort.
"Always."
That was their cue. With an elegant gesture, Hermione elevated her wand skywards, summoning a shaft of fire around herself and Ron.
The red-haired man extended his hand towards Hermione, gripping her arm affectionately for a fraction of a second before vaulting himself out of the flames.
The instant his foot crossed the fire barrier, a hail of spells rained down on him. With a precise motion, he deflected the first two spells while the others were obstructed by a shield cast by Hermione.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ron spotted his former classmate positioning herself near Neville and Luna. He let out a soft sigh of relief and allowed himself a moment to reflect on the situation.
This battle was reaching its climax...or rather, this war was. He could feel it; this was the final battle, the one that would determine whether light or darkness would prevail.
The war against Voldemort had been ignited many years ago, and he had lost count of the casualties on both sides.
In his seventh year of school, a first battle unfolded at Hogwarts itself. A battle forever etched in his memory. Dumbledore fell that day, vanquished by a particularly vicious spell cast by Voldemort.
But the Order of the Phoenix emerged stronger: where Voldemort thought Dumbledore's death would cause despair among the members, it did not. Because Harry Potter was still alive.
Harry Potter. Ron took pride in calling him a friend. The young man with the tousled brown hair refused to be defeated by the death of his mentor. He was the first to recover after Dumbledore's death, even managing to repel the Dark Lord with a barrage of spells fueled by rage and grief.
Cornered, Voldemort was forced to retreat with the remnants of his followers. A victory tinged with bitterness. Many wizards lost their lives that day. Dumbledore, of course, but also George, his brother, and Remus Lupin with his wife.
Subsequently, Harry became the true symbol of hope and rebellion within the Order. As long as Harry Potter was alive, nothing seemed impossible.
With Kingsley and Moody at their helm, a counterattack was possible, and they were here today.
A legendary battle was underway. No fewer than a hundred Death Eaters, trolls, giants, and other magical creatures were clashing with the Order's wizards and all those who had decided to assist them.
A battle that had now raged for more than an hour.
On their end, Ron and Hermione found themselves isolated from the rest of the fight. Initially assigned a support role to cast protective spells, they found themselves at the edge of the battlefield... But now, Ron was plunging into the heart of the fray.
Upon reaching the top of the plain, he took in a breath sharply. Laid out before him was a battlefield like none he had ever seen before. Wizards in red robes were darting in all directions.
Red had been chosen as the Order's representative color. It symbolized the blood that had been shed in previous battles, a reminder of all those who had fallen in combat.
Trolls and giants pounded the ground with enormous clubs, the earth trembling with each strike. A bit further away, a dozen Death Eaters formed a circle, conjuring a potent spell of destruction. Around them, several Order wizards attempted to breach their defenses and shields.
And then, he spotted him. Harry Potter stood there, wand in hand, defiantly facing his adversary: Lord Voldemort himself.
Determined, Ron cautiously navigated the separate battle zones, dodging the flurry of spells flying all around him.
Each zone offered a different spectacle, one he wished he never had to witness.
First, he spotted Moody's body, his half-sliced face frozen in an expression of agony. A bit further away, a young man whose name he did not know had a bloody forearm and shredded legs.
He startled upon discovering the body of McGonagall, his former transfiguration professor and head of Gryffindor house.
The bodies kept piling up, without him being able to assign a name, or even a face, to each one.
Except for the last one.
He had just reached the duel between Harry and his arch-nemesis: Lord Voldemort. The combat was mesmerizing, displaying magical prowess far superior to the duels occurring all around. Engrossed in their own battles, the Death Eaters and Order members seemed oblivious to them.
Ron gaped momentarily at the magical exchanges between the two opponents. Harry Potter had made leaps and bounds in his magical abilities in just 5 years, even more than he, Ron, had, although he was more adept with protective spells. Harry skillfully linked elemental attack and defense spells. Ron could even discern a temporal and illusion spell that mildly perturbed Voldemort's defense. Indeed, seeing four Harry Potters launching powerful spells simultaneously was startling.
Ron's attention was quickly drawn elsewhere. Not far from the site of Harry's clash with Voldemort, a solitary figure lay on the ground. With her eyes closed and body curled in an almost peaceful position, she might have been mistaken for sleeping. But Ron was under no such illusions and immediately understood. That heart-rending scream... The terrible cry they'd heard belonged to Harry Potter. And the cause lay directly before him: Ginny Weasley, his sister and Harry's companion. She was motionless. Unable to tear his gaze away, he studied his sister's lifeless form, trying to ascertain what had taken her life. She didn't resemble the maimed corpses strewn around them. Instead, she just lay there, eerily still.
The sound of an explosion jarred him out of his shocked daze. Some thirty meters away, he saw Harry at the epicenter of a crater, surrounded by a glowing and faintly sputtering magical barrier. Voldemort stood a few steps ahead, flicking his wand with sharp, swift movements, as though brushing off the grime.
"Well, well, dear Harry," Voldemort began, his voice as smooth and steady as ever. "You have improved since our last encounter... Or is it anger once again clouding your judgment?"
A flash sparked in Harry's eyes, his hair rustling slightly. His red cloak whipped around him in a frenzy, as if it too was ready to take on the Dark Lord.
"I will never forgive you..." Harry's voice was a low murmur.
Voldemort's smile broadened. "Pardon? Speak up, Harry. I can hardly hear you..."
As if electrified, Harry lunged at the one whose name he didn't fear to pronounce, wand poised and ready to strike.
"I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!" he roared, slashing his arm downward.
A silver light erupted from his wand, streaking towards Voldemort with deadly speed. The Dark Lord reeled back, the spell dissolving into a wisp of greyish smoke before it could reach him.
"Anger, hatred, vengeance... My dear Harry, unless you resort to the Dark Arts, these feelings will avail you nothing." Voldemort finished his taunt by launching a spell that crashed with a hollow thud against Harry's magical shield.
A victorious smile flickered on Harry's face. "I will never stoop to your level, Tom!"
Grasping his wand in both hands, he thrust it downward, driving it into the ground with all his might. Rays of light burst from the earth, streaking towards Voldemort.
The Dark Lord was soon trapped within a cage of radiant pillars. His hiss of rage filled the air as he clasped his hands together, releasing a shock wave that obliterated the barriers and threw Harry backward. Without a moment's hesitation, Voldemort lunged for Harry, his tongue darting out in anticipation. He raised his wand, ready to strike.
With a swift gesture, Harry managed to cast an Expelliarmus spell at the last possible moment. Voldemort's wand slipped from his grip, and he was propelled several meters away. His wand, still pulsating with magic, hovered briefly before returning to its master.
"Harry, Harry... You would have made an excellent servant, far superior to my pathetic minions... What a shame I have to end you here..."
"That's what you've been trying to do all this while, Tom.. To no avail."
"You insolent little whelp!" Voldemort hissed, preparing another spell. But his movements stilled when he spotted Ron from the corner of his eye. His wand instantly swiveled towards him. "Well well, seems I've just been handed a significant advantage."
Harry swiftly turned to his friend, whom he hadn't noticed until now. But before he could utter a word, a killing curse was already hurtling towards Ron at an alarming speed. The Avada Kedavra cut through the distance in a mere fraction of a second. Ron didn't even think to move. There wasn't any time... His last thought was...
A sudden lurch jolted him harshly back to reality. Had he moved? Been displaced?
Indeed, he now stood behind Harry, whereas just a moment ago he had been in front. The chilling laughter of Voldemort echoed around them, and soon enough, he provided an explanation.
"Quick reflexes, Harrrrrry! A time displacement spell, I'm impressed!"
Ron could only see his friend's back, but the intense waves of anger rolling off him were palpable. Voldemort continued.
"Regrettable that your lovely fiancee didn't know that spell, she might still be alive..."
Mad with fury, Harry was on the brink of attacking Voldemort when something seemed to hold him back. He looked up at the sky and took a deep breath.
"Ron... Step aside... I'm going to end this... Now."
Ron looked at his friend, flabbergasted. He could only see half of The Boy Who Lived's face from his position, but it was enough to glimpse the tears coursing down Harry's cheeks.
"Ginny..." Harry murmured... "Thank you..."
Harry did not assume a battle stance. Instead, his arms hung limply by his side as he let his wand drop. Ron watched with astonishment, trusting his friend but entirely unsure of what Harry intended.
Harry advanced toward his mortal enemy with a sure stride. Voldemort's smirk broadened at his approach.
"Come to me, HARRY POTTER!" Voldemort shouted, unable to conceal his excitement.
Harry continued his steady march, his eyes resolved, mouth slightly agape, as if under a spell.
"Come, come, COME!" Voldemort cried out, his frenzy growing, foam gathering at the corners of his mouth.
Once Harry was within reach, Voldemort lifted his arm, an expression of ecstasy spreading across his face. He aimed his wand downward, whispering the two deadly words: "Avada Kedavra."
Once more, the curse streaked towards Harry. But Harry didn't dodge the spell that hit him head-on. His body shuddered, but he didn't fall. As if entranced, he continued his relentless approach toward Voldemort.
"What... What's happening? You can't... Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra! Vivicit incantem! Crucio! CRUCIO!" The dark wizard howled.
But each spell that hit Harry inflicted no damage. The Boy Who Lived continued his unhurried approach, halting only when he was within arm's length of the Dark Lord. Voldemort's wand pressed against Harry's chest, his eyes reflected pure fury.
"Why? Why aren't my spells affecting you?" Voldemort demanded, Harry returns his gaze blankly.
Slowly, with the same unhurried motion he used to approach Voldemort, Harry lifted his hands to the Dark Lord's neck. Voldemort tried to break free from the grip, but his body refused to obey. Harry's grip tightened around Voldemort's neck as the Dark Lord screamed in rage. He flailed about, casting spells wildly, shattering the ground around them.
"Ginny completed her protective Rune... she was prepared..." Harry murmured to himself, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks.
The two enemies were now on the ground, Harry towers over Voldemort, his hands tightening ever more around his neck.
"Only one thing was missing for it to work, Tom... And you gave it to me..."
Voldemort's gaze was filled with confusion. Eye to eye, Harry continued.
"Don't you see? A spell that has hurt you before... Very old... It's different now. Your magic doesn't affect me anymore, Tom... You're as weak as a Muggle to me. Yet, a Muggle can defend themselves with the strength of their fists, without magic you're nothing."
The life started to leave Voldemort's eyes. His snake-like pupils dilated, and his mouth moved without making a sound.
"It needed a sacrifice, Tom... A sacrifice... And you provided it..." Harry ended in a sob, his last tears falling on Voldemort's face.
Then, slowly, Harry loosened his grip. Voldemort's face was frozen in a display of confusion and pain. The Boy Who Lived sat still for a moment, unaware of how long it had been, how long he had waited. His mind drifted back to the events of a few minutes earlier.
The battle had started in a relatively standard way: Death Eaters arrived first, followed by Voldemort's allied magical creatures. Each member of the Order had their role and their place. All the wizards positioned themselves for the assault. Harry had watched Ron and Hermione head towards the rear to cast defensive spells more effectively. As the first spells were cast by the Death Eaters, he had yelled at Ginny to join them.
But she refused, wanting to fight at his side. They had battled in tandem for some time, perfectly complementing each other. Ginny was a fighter and didn't know fear. Yet, as the first Order members began to fall, Harry wished she were elsewhere. But she stayed with him, supporting him. Always.
Then, he appeared. For once, Harry's scar didn't warn him of Voldemort's presence. He had only heard the crackle of a spell and felt the weight of his companion falling against his back. Time seemed to stop. He had once again felt his heart being ripped out of his chest.
He fell to his knees, clutching the woman he loved tightly. He had always struggled with romantic relationships, but with Ginny, it felt right. She provided something different than Ron and Hermione's friendship; she gave him her support, her heart, her kindness.
He screamed out his rage and grief, a heart-wrenching cry. He gently closed Ginny's eyes, laid her on the ground, and rose. Before him stood Voldemort, ready to fight.
And now, it was all over.
Harry, still crouched over Voldemort's lifeless body, was only able to snap out of his stupor when Ron placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him to reality.
"It's over, Harry..." his friend whispered.
Lifting his gaze, Harry scanned the battlefield. Black shadows were retreating everywhere, and the plain was awash in the glow of victory.
The Order had won. Voldemort was no more. The wizarding world was saved.
Within the span of two fleeting months, the wizarding world had undergone a complete metamorphosis. The reign of terror under Voldemort had crumbled at the time of his death, leading to hastily arranged elections to appoint a new Minister of Magic.
Hogwarts was currently in a phase of intensive rebuilding, nurturing hopes of reopening in the forthcoming year.
Monuments, memorials to the fallen heroes, had been erected, their foundations bearing the weight of countless names. Each family had endured their proportion of loss, and moving on from the ravages of war was a struggle for all.
Beneath one such monument, Hermione Granger, the soon-to-be Weasley, tenderly placed a vibrant bouquet of flowers. Ron encircled her waist with his arm, and the young woman nestled her head on his shoulder. Together, they remained like this, their gaze locked in a vacant stare.
"Do you think Harry is doing okay?" Hermione inquired of her betrothed.
Having ascended to the status of a living legend, Harry had refrained from making any public appearances since the conclusion of the war. He had barely acknowledged the crowd upon his return before he receded from public scrutiny. Despite the efforts of Ron and Hermione to provide support, the Boy Who Lived had rejected all external contact.
However, this day was different. Harry had requested their presence at three o'clock. Without a second thought, the young wizards had accepted and were now waiting for the appointed hour.
"It's Harry Potter, he's not just anybody... He'll find his way through," Ron reassured his future wife.
The church bells struck three o'clock. Grasping Hermione's hand, Ron apparated with a slight 'pop,' reappearing miles away. His previous residences now in ruins, Harry had taken up residence in a quaint country house on the outskirts of London. Ron rang the doorbell, and Harry promptly answered.
Adorned in his signature, slightly worn black wizard's robes, he appeared both fatigued and eager. A heavy suitcase was in his possession.
"Come in!" Harry quickly stepped aside, inviting them to enter.
Upon reaching him, Hermione couldn't help but express her concern as she embraced him.
"Harry! Just look at you! You appear as if you haven't slept for days! Are you alright?"
Harry brushed off her comment with a dismissive gesture.
"Actually!" Harry gestured for them to follow him to the basement. "I've been immersed in a fascinating project for a month!"
A puzzled look passed between Ron and Hermione as they followed him down the narrow staircase. Their expectations were filled with uncertainty... The last they had seen of him, he had been utterly devastated by Ginny's death, his communication almost non-existent... Now, he seemed to be faring... better?
They descended into what appeared to be a makeshift lab, where various potions were neatly arranged on tables. Bookshelves, groaning under the weight of countless books, took up almost half the room, leaving only a run-down door at the back. Harry placed his suitcase on the floor and turned towards his friends.
"Ta-dah!" Harry gestured towards the door at the back.
A silence descended upon the room. Neither Ron nor Hermione could decipher their friend's intentions.
"Come on, even you, the brilliant Hermione, can't figure out what this is? Have I overestimated your intellect?" Harry jested.
A frown creased Hermione's forehead, her pride slightly wounded.
"Harry, I don't understand what you're..."
Harry cut her off mid-sentence, his demeanor becoming more serious.
"I asked you to come here to say goodbye."
This time, Ron interjected.
"Goodbye, but...?" he began, only to be interrupted by Harry once again.
"You've both been extraordinary friends, and I am forever grateful. With Voldemort out of the picture, you two will do just fine! You're planning on providing with a whole horde of little Weasleys, right?"
"Harry, you're speaking as if we'll never see each other again..." Hermione, her anxiety escalating, said.
The Boy Who Lived tapped the shabby door next to him.
"This is my exit, haven't you pieced it together yet, Hermione? Let me aid you: 'When the door opens here, the other one there closes...'
"And neither of them will open again!" Hermione finished. "That's a line from an old tale! A door that permits you to... Oh, Merlin! Harry!"
Ron glanced back and forth between his future wife and Harry, completely bewildered. Seeing that Harry was amused by Hermione's reaction, he gave him a questioning look.
"It's a dimensional door, Harry! You want to go to another world!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Another world?" Ron inquired. "Is that even possible?"
Harry nodded.
"I'm going to find Ginny," he stated directly.
Hermione recoiled as she finally comprehended the Boy Who Lived's plan.
"Harry... You want to find Ginny... But you do realize that, where you're going, she won't be the same..."
Harry sighed.
"I want to see her again, it can't just end like this..." he began, averting his gaze.
"You don't have the right to meddle in a parallel world, Harry!" Hermione argued vehemently.
For his part, Ron appeared utterly bewildered.
"Who said I don't have the right?! I know exactly what I'm doing!" he countered, his voice rising.
"Harry... We're here to help you get through this! In the story, the one who crosses worlds goes..."
"It's just a story, Hermione! Reality is different, and in any case, my decision is final! I'm leaving now."
"Harry, you..." But Hermione's words were cut short by Ron's intervening arm. He gripped her by the shoulders and locked eyes with her.
"Harry's not a child anymore... If he believes he knows what he's doing, let's let him proceed, right?"
"But..." Hermione attempted to speak again before stopping herself.
Ron turned to Harry, his gaze filled with melancholy.
"I didn't quite comprehend your plan, but it appears it's a one-way journey, right?"
Harry nodded, bestowing a smile upon his friend.
"Then the usual advice," Ron continued, "Take care of yourself, try to stay out of trouble as best you can, although I find that hard to believe... And above all else, find happiness."
Ron extended his hand, which Harry clasped firmly. The long-time friends exchanged smiles before Ron pulled him into a warm embrace.
"See you, mate," Harry whispered, almost inaudibly. "Thank you."
Hermione, her eyes beginning to glisten, hugged Harry next.
"Promise me you won't get into even more trouble there and that you'll take care of yourself."
"I promise, Hermione..."
"And that you'll find people who love you there."
"Of course, Hermione."
"And make friends! And ensure you eat well! And stop trying to be the hero! And..." Hermione's sentence trailed off into a sob. Harry gently released her and guided her into Ron's arms.
The Boy Who Lived pivoted towards the door and grasped the handle. With his other hand, he seized his suitcase, turning back one final time to bid farewell to his two closest friends.
"Well, it's time."
Ron nodded one last time, his eyes narrowed as if to imprint his friend's visage into his memory. Hermione, unable to bear the sight, buried her face in Ron's neck.
With a final glance, Harry opened the door and vanished in a brilliant flash of light.
In the aftermath of the flash, Ron and Hermione later swore they heard Harry whisper close to them, "I will never forget you, my friends. My journey continues, onward, straight into the heart of trouble!"
Thank you for reading, see you soon next chapter !
