In Another Life

Hi. So it’s been years since I have read the Harry Potter series and almost just as long since I have tried my hand at writing a fanfiction. But I hope you enjoy this little plot bunny that wouldn’t leave me alone anyway. Umm if I had to put a warning on this I would probably say this is sooooo NOT canon and this whole thing will probably be super cliché and an amalgamation of some of my favorite stories etc… so if you see something that looks similar to something in another story well… really what do you want me to do about it? but it’s what I like. There you go. I am also in desperate need of someone that can help me organize my thoughts so I can figure out which direction I want this story to go.

 

Chapter 1

The Great Hall was once again filled with students returning from their summer holiday. What would have once been a joyous occasion for friends to catch up with each other after such a lengthy separation was instead marked by hushed and stilted conversations throughout the hall. Over the summer the ever menacing presence of Voldemort seemed to loom closer than ever. The wizarding news had been filled with increasing attacks by the Dark Lords followers and they were getting closer to the more populated areas. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time until they began attacking areas like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. So far the attacks had only caused property damage and several injuries that no matter the severity could eventually be recovered from.  

Though doubtful anyone had noticed but Hogwarts herself seemed subdued and carried an air of anticipation.

The reason for the so far unsuccessful attacks sat at the head table with an ever present sneer looking out over the students. He had been kept busy during the summer months dividing his already limited time between reporting to Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, making potions to resupply infirmary for the year, and catering to the whims of the Dark Lord and participating in the seemingly random raids he had planned, obliviating muggles and Death Eaters alike to tailor their memories to suit something Voldemort would be pleased with without actually having to hurt anyone. He thanked the Heavens that he had been teaching for so long that he only had to make a few minor alterations to his lesson plans in order to be ready for the new year. He was grateful that the madman still kept him in his confidence and as such he was able to convince him to start his attacks in less populated areas of wizarding society under the guise that it would build up the tension and anticipation for the more crowded areas. Luckily, the Dark Lord went for it without much coaxing. Which only proved to the spy that this resurrected creature with barely a sliver of humanity left was no longer the brilliant wizard he had once pledged his loyalty and life to.  The ease in which he could be persuaded and led astray would have been troubling if he were still a loyal follower.

 Playing his part perfectly, no one noticed the deepened lines around his mouth, the weariness that he was barely able to hide behind his stoic façade, the distinct sallowness to his skin or the slight slouch to the normally rigid posture. To allow personal relationships was to risk his role in this madness called a war. To have a friend and confidant meant to place his trust in another and that was something he had not been able to fully do for as long as he could remember.  He felt like his entire life was spent hiding his true self. He had always had to play a role in one way or another. When he was a small boy he had to cower in fear of his father to appease his need to dominate in a futile effort to protect himself and his mother. As a teenager he had been forced to endure the ridicule of his peers, without retaliation, for no apparent reason other than the fact that he existed and the house he was sorted into. Later, as a young man, desperately wanting to belong and be appreciated making a hasty decision that sent him groveling from one master to another. Who would guess that a man who was seemingly so austere burned with a passion for life and people that it nearly overwhelmed him on a daily basis. He sat at that table, flanked by the faculty, and through his exhaustion he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming. Whether it was an event or a person he could not discern but he felt it right down to his core. Something was coming and it would decide the outcome of this war, he knew it with a certainty that he could claim with few other things.

He was brought out of his reverie by the hush that swept the hall in a wave. Like everyone else his attention was drawn towards the entrance.  There his eyes were caught and held by a pair of clear emeralds uninhibited by their usual coke bottle lenses. He came in as boisterous as ever surrounded, as was customary, by the other two thirds that made up the Golden Trio.

It was only for an instant but to both men it felt like so much longer. There was a nod of acknowledgment from Harry and the connection was broken. Leaving both men feeling vaguely adrift.

 

TBC….

Okay there it is. Hopefully the start of something great.