A/N: Hello everyone! This story for the HP fandom revolves around an Original Character (OC) whom I have crafted as the protagonist. My intention is to portray this character authentically, with all their imperfections, yet deeply shaped by the power of love. It has always struck me in the realm of HP Fanfiction that there is a scarcity of tales where well-developed Original Characters take the lead, despite the vast potential for storytelling from their perspective. So, I decided to embark on the journey of creating my own OC-driven narrative.
This story is rated T, indicating that it may contain instances of strong violence, language, and implied sexual content. However, I am striving to maintain a tone akin to the later books in the Harry Potter series. I hope you enjoy reading this tale!
IN the crisp October night, the air grew cool as autumn's red and gold leaves gracefully danced on the bitter breeze. Within the quaint wizarding hamlet of Doveport, silence embraced the early hours, undisturbed by any voice or noise, save for the haunting creaks of the tall, dark oak trees that stood sentinel at the village's border. A gentle fragrance of rain lingered in the air, while distant thunder rolled softly, adding a touch of mystery to the serene scene.
At this hour, when all others slumbered, Death Eater Ollie Black remained awake, feeling far older than his mere thirty-four years.
Perched on the doorstep of his cottage, he contemplated the stillness of the night.
The man had lived alone in his desolate cottage at the edge of the hamlet as long as he could remember, preferring to keep to himself, for the wizard was seen by most in their village as nothing but a man of darkness, and someone to be avoided. The people reviled him as nothing but a devil.
His late father had confined him to their home for the safety of the people, but…Father was gone now, had died of a complaint of the heart seven months ago.
The secluded wizard's features would have been handsome were it not for a burn mark, a cursed Dark mark, underneath his right eye that no amount of Dittany could lessen the scarring of.
The mark was permanent and would serve him as a constant reminder of his failure, his shame.
The small cottage he occupied was nestled at the back of the wizarding hamlet of Doveport, which was not far off from the wizarding village of Hogsmeade. All sorts of various nick nacks and intricacies from his travels littered the whole abode.
The wizard had woken not long ago from…yet another nightmare. The witch's face. The fire. Hearing her screams ringing in his eardrums as she pleaded with him to save her as his home went up in flames and she was trapped inside and he was helpless to reach her in time.
Ollie simply could not get these ghastly images out of his head, no matter how hard he tried.
He wondered why Merlin had forsaken him so. In a groggy stupor and not wishing to return to sleep for he knew what visions his imagination would show him the minute he closed his eyes again, the shaken wizard had roused himself from bed and found his way outside his home, to sit upon the topmost step of his porch.
The worn wizard held a forlorn expression as his scarred face was illuminated by the luscious moonlight. The silence around Ollie was more than deafening.
A feeble ringing filled his fatigued ears. The Death Eater thought there was nothing he would not give to stir awake, night after night, alone in his home.
The calm wind ruffled his wavy black hair gently, and the man's lips held a thin line that only seemed to deepen by the second.
His mind was constantly tormented day in and out by the wizard's horrid memories.
The thought that tortured him this morning was, "Why?"
Why did those within his master's ranks still not accept him, because of his curse, the power he was born with, and that which he could not control? Did the other Death Eaters who served the Dark Lord not have flaws as well? Were they not as human as he or anyone else?
Ollie thought that no matter if he mulled over these thoughts until his brain ached, he would never know the whole truth. The Death Eater sat on his porch in silence for what felt like hours. His throbbing head fell into his large calloused hands. He was working himself to death as a Snatcher for the Dark Lord.
He was sure he had not received a full night's sleep in months, though with Father's death and he was still not over the death of Father, or Mother a year prior, he preferred to stay busy to keep his mind from dwelling to dark places and focusing solely on what he had lost.
A frustrated sigh escaped his barely cracked lips as he rolled up the sleeves of his black woolen robes, already feeling the beginning tingling burning of his Dark Mark searing.
His master would have need of him soon. The lonesome wizard rose slowly, his aching back cracking with every inch he rose until he was at his full height of 6'2.
As he was about to turn and head back inside the relative warmth of his cottage, he looked back over his shoulder to glance over the village of Doveport for a moment.
His mind was rushed by the vivid memory of the nightmare that had woken him. The smoke swirled the dark sky as his home was set ablaze by an unknown figure, the details of their face too far away in his dreams to make out who it was.
The wizard grimaced, tearing his eyes away from the truly alarming image. His shaking hands found their way to the top of his pounding head as he breathed heavy and scattered breaths while he looked frantically towards the floorboards beneath his boots, trying to calm his racing heart.
He slid his hands down his face and felt the growing stubble that dusted along his jawline as his beard was beginning to grow out. He made a mental note to have his house elf do it for him later that morning.
The witch's death was haunting him daily and nightly as the dreadful images of his home being set on fire and trapping the witch inside were consuming him, and the flashing images had only gotten worse throughout the long months that passed.
The burning pain of his Dark Mark seared his skin hotter than any dragon fire could, and he knew that he would have to leave soon.
He shook his head wildly to rid himself of these startling images as he sluggishly walked down the steps of his porch.
Ollie hoped whatever the Dark Lord wanted of him would prove as a distraction from the nightmares that haunted him.
As Ollie reached the end of his home's garden and was about to turn on his heels to prepare to Disapparate, something caught his attention. Ollie was not sure what had made him stop and pause and turn to look.
In the stillness of the night, Ollie Black battled his inner demons, struggling to reconcile the man he was with the man he wanted to be.
The isolation he chose, or perhaps was forced upon him, became a double-edged sword, shielding him from the judgment of others but leaving him trapped in his own turbulent thoughts.
The world had labeled him a devil, and while he wore the mark of darkness, he yearned to be seen for the person he truly was beneath the scarred surface. The nights of restlessness gnawed at him, reminding him of his father's final words, confining him to their home to protect the village from the power he couldn't control.
As the moonlight washed over him, the burn mark under his eye seemed to pulse with its own eerie life, as if a dark force resided within him. Ollie's hands, calloused and marked by the life he led, sought refuge in his pounding head, trying to quell the chaotic thoughts that threatened to consume him.
He wanted to scream out in frustration, to break free from the shackles of his past, but the silence of the night held him captive.
It was a lonely existence, walking the fine line between allegiance to the Dark Lord and the yearning for acceptance and redemption.
As the Dark Mark on his arm throbbed with increasing intensity, Ollie knew that he couldn't delay his departure any longer.
The looming summon from his master meant that he had no choice but to confront the darkness that consumed him once more.
For him, it was not merely a mark of loyalty, but a reminder of the choices he had made and the lives he had affected.
With a heavy sigh, he turned away from Doveport, the village that once held the potential for a different life, and prepared himself to Disapparate.
Each step he took seemed to carry the weight of his burdened soul, as he trudged towards the inevitable fate that awaited him in the shadows.
The wind whispered hauntingly through the dark woods that bordered the village as if echoing the turmoil within him.
And as Ollie Black vanished into the night, the small wizarding hamlet of Doveport remained oblivious to the struggles of the tormented man who walked the thin line between light and darkness.
Once his feet touched the solid ground again, Ollie Black gazed uneasily at the imposing structure of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's home.
Weariness weighed heavily on his bones as he contemplated the reason for the Dark Lord's summons. His mind wandered to the grim tasks he had been assigned, relentlessly hunting down fleeing witches and wizards, especially Muggle-borns seeking refuge from persecution.
As he approached the foreboding iron gates, a surge of bitterness overcame him, and his left forearm involuntarily rose. The faint blue haze that served as a protective enchantment around the Malfoy estate dissipated, granting him entry. The act felt instinctual, a dark reminder of the loyalty he had once sworn to the Dark Lord.
Ignoring any form of announcement or waiting for a house-elf, Ollie briskly entered the Malfoy manor, shutting the door with a swift wave of his wand.
The chilling atmosphere inside embraced him, the embodiment of the immense wealth and power that permeated the very air.
However, amid this opulence, Ollie's heart remained heavy with turmoil, haunted by the darkness that had become an inseparable part of his being. The summons from the Dark Lord compelled him to enter this place, to follow a path he wasn't sure he could continue.
A yearning to break free from the clutches of this sinister existence battled within him, a desire for something different, something better.
As he navigated the lavishly decorated halls, memories of past revelries within these opulent walls surfaced, only to be met with disdain and regret.
The grandeur that once filled him with a twisted sense of belonging now served as a constant reminder of the life he sought to escape.
His feet seemed to lead him forward, moving with a will of their own, despite the alarm bells ringing in his mind, warning him to turn back. He pressed on, drawn towards the hall where Lucius Malfoy's study lay, expecting his master to task him with yet another assignment.
However, as his hand touched the doorknob, something caught his attention.
Another figure stood in the hall, a witch who appeared to be a fellow Death Eater, though not immediately recognizable.
Intrigued, Ollie tilted his head, seeking a better view.
Perhaps she was a new addition to the ranks, a fresh recruit into the fold of darkness.
Unnoticed, Ollie observed the mysterious witch at the far end of the hall, her presence exuding an enchanting aura.
Lost and agitated, she wandered aimlessly through the upper level of the Malfoy home, her nervous glances darting to the slightly ajar doors, as if seeking something or someone.
Her frustration peaked as she reached a locked door, none other than the entrance to Lucius Malfoy's private study. Desperation led her to jiggle the handle, hoping for an escape, perhaps thinking it had jammed shut behind her.
Unable to resist, Ollie called out to her, his words escaping hoarsely from his lips.
"What are you doing out here? That room is off-limits," he rasped, wincing at how rusty his voice sounded.
With Father gone and his duties to the Dark Lord keeping him away from social interactions, he rarely had the opportunity to speak.
"Merlin, I-I'm so sorry," she stammered, her hands instinctively reaching for her mouth in regret. "I didn't intend to-to cause any trouble. I was simply searching for the dining room when, um... the Dark Lord summoned me."
"It's alright," Ollie murmured, attempting to sound reassuring as he gave her an apologetic glance.
He realized that his presence had unintentionally invaded her privacy, shattering her moment of solitude.
Taking a breath, their eyes locked, and he was captivated by the deep blue hue of her eyes, reminiscent of the sky after a refreshing rainfall.
Her blonde hair framed her face in delicate wisps and strands, while a light sprinkling of freckles adorned the bridge of her petite nose.
Noticing her diminutive stature during a quick scan, her eyes were what truly stood out to him—the vulnerability within them tugged at something inside him, forging an inexplicable connection and igniting a warm sensation in his chest. Feeling slightly guilty, Ollie realized he owed this beautiful stranger an explanation.
"I didn't mean to startle you. This room belongs to Lucius Malfoy, and it's best not to meddle with it. It's his study."
The witch's curiosity flickered in her gaze, her voice carrying a distinct accent that Ollie couldn't quite place.
Fear and fascination seemed to intertwine across her pale features as she inquired, "Then which way is the dining room?"
"It's just down the hallway, to your left," Ollie replied, gesturing in the direction of the dining room. He couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility towards this curious and vulnerable stranger. "If you would like, I can show you the way. I'm headed there myself hoping to speak with him," he offered, wanting to ensure she didn't encounter any further trouble.
She hesitated for a moment, assessing him with those captivating blue eyes, before giving him a small appreciative smile.
"Thank you, I-I'd like that," she said after a moment's pause, her voice still tinged with curiosity. "I...this is my first time in this place, and it's quite overwhelming."
"I understand," Ollie nodded, empathizing with her situation. "Coming to any new place can be daunting if you don't know your way around, especially here."
In the dimly lit corridor, soft chatter filled the air as Ollie led the way to the dining room.
His heart thumped painfully in his chest, unable to ignore the sensation of her slender fingers wrapped around his arm.
She had looked at his burn mark without fear or disgust, treating him as if he were normal, just like anyone else.
As they approached the dining room, he found himself wishing for more time in her presence, wanting to prolong this unexpected connection.
"What's your name?" Ollie asked softly, curiosity tinged with a touch of vulnerability.
Her blue eyes widened momentarily, revealing a hint of shock at the question.
It seemed she was searching his eyes for reassurance and trust, yet there was an underlying fear that puzzled him. He had only asked for her name, so why the hesitation?
After a brief pause, she finally whispered shyly, "Norah, sir. My... my name is Norah."
A faint smile graced Ollie's lips as her name resonated with him.
"It suits you... Norah," he murmured, pleased to see her eyes soften in response to his words.
Curiosity flowed both ways, and she eagerly inquired, "And yours?"
"Ollie," he replied, surprised at how effortlessly his name left his lips.
It had been a long time since he had felt this intimately connected with another person, especially outside his interactions with Father.
Her lips slightly parted, and she nodded.
"It was... nice to meet you, Ollie. You've been very kind to me." Norah's nervous demeanor and the way she fidgeted with her hands revealed her unease as she glanced towards the door behind which the Dark Lord awaited their arrival.
Suppressing a smile, Ollie found her behavior oddly endearing.
"The pleasure is mine, Norah," he said sincerely.
As they stood there, a peculiar bond forming between them, Ollie couldn't help but sense that fate had woven their paths together for a reason. He felt drawn to Norah, and the way she looked past his appearance and connected with him on a deeper level touched him in a profound way.
As he prepared to speak, the door to the dining room abruptly swung open, filling the room with a chilling gust of air. The unexpected burst startled them both, causing Ollie to shut his eyes momentarily.
He quickly composed himself, though an unsettling bitterness gnawed at his gut, making him feel slightly queasy.
"Come," he instinctively muttered, taking Norah's hand and leading her forward, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.
Emotions swirled within Ollie, a mix of fear, curiosity, and an unexplainable connection to the young witch.
Together, hand in hand, they entered Lucius and Narcissa's dining room, where the Dark Lord awaited their arrival, his grip on Norah gentle yet determined.
With the door sealing them in near darkness, Ollie did not dare let himself look back.