Author: verisimilitude PM
It is a thousand years after the life of Harry Potter, a myth and legend in and of himself. The Wizarding World is in chaos, along with all of mankind. No one could have foreseen this. Well – almost no one.Rated: Fiction M - English - Drama/Tragedy - Harry P. & Draco M. - Words: 1,601 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Published: 10-30-03 - id: 1579382
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author:verisimilit['y' or 'ude']
Rating:R – later to be NC-17
Pairing:Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Warning:This does contain slash [male+male relationships]. So be warned. Also contains descriptive violence [includes rape, torture, etc.] and cursing.
Disclaimer:The characters that appear in the original Harry Potter stories are not mine. However, all others are. So, don't steal, kiddies. It's illegal. ::evil cackle::
Summary:It is a thousand years after the life of Harry Potter, a myth and legend in and of himself. The Wizarding World is in chaos, along with all of mankind. No one could have foreseen this. Well – almost no one.
A/N:I had a chapter up previously for this a few months ago. However, since then, I have undergone a major writing 'revelation', so to speak, and have completely re-written it as to give the story more oomph and better clarity.
Also, if anyone is reading this, I am looking for a beta that can give harsh criticism to improve my writing and be around when I need them to bounce ideas with and be irritated by my ignorant knowledge of literature and their need to constantly correct me. If anyone is interested, please email me. Keep in mind that a first impression is the one that lasts and if you don't make a good enough one I will conveniently forget to respond to you. [Sometimes I actually do forget, so…]
On a further note, I will be writing two other fics, Nemesis [Which is a Tom/Harry set in the past. I usually go for depth in plots, so if you're looking for a seemingly well-written TR/HP that is believable and explores the expanse of human emotions, check it out sometime in the weeks to come.] and The Dream Within (title pending) [A Founders Fic which goes from the time of childhood to the split with all four founders, told from Godric's point-of-view. This is slash, mainly GG/SS. No other later characters show up.] I have several other plot bunnies running around, mainly one for a humorous HP/DM fic, but those two and this one are my main objectives to at least start by the end of this year.
Please tell me what you think of this and if I should continue or not. I am a horrible procrastinator and need a lot of people telling me to go on for me to actually do it. I'm going to try to get a chapter out every-other week, so that at least is a premise for updating. One more thing: the prologue is set in the far future. You don't expect them to say everything the same, do you? I expect that most of you are sharp-witted and the words that I don't number and explain at the bottom, you can guess what they are in regular English.
Of Strikes and Stories
The hall was quiet and peaceful, a welcoming reprieve from the almost daily noise and clutter it had been subjected to lately. Unused for quite a long time, several persons in authority had sectioned it off for shelter in case of future Strikes. Because it was in such a condition that if one was attempting to seriously inhabit the space they would find themselves soon coated in layers of dust dating centuries past and half-nibbled by rats and all sorts of unnamable creatures that hid in the dark corners of Hogwarts, it needed to be cleaned. And not just any old cleaning, in the age-old manner of mop and broom, but specially, with wands and caution, for who knew whom had last been in there and what spell-traps they had deviously placed in hopes of turning someone blue?
Katryna and her older half-brother, Davydd, had been told to clean the room. They had no choice, thus weren't chosen, because they were the only pair not assigned a specific task at the time. They, however, were quite relieved. There were others with worse jobs than the one they had to. Such as Verne and Sicily who had to clean the dilapidated tolettos1, crusted with who knows what, in the dungent2.
Now, three weeks later, they stood in silence, gazing at the work they had accomplished and basking in pride and self-accomplishment. The hall was entirely cleaned, the walls and floor clutter free, the air fresh. The only objects that could now be found in the hall were the two young adults and a table, on which sat a small pile of yellow and chipped odds and ends.
Katryna heavily breathed in the now-circulating new air and blew it out gustily. She glanced at her half-brother, who was standing with his eyes closed, a look of pained thoughtfulness on his lined face. She hated to have to interrupt him, it almost hurt her. They had so few moments of true quiet, and Davydd had less than most. But good moments had to end some time, however the one who interrupted them was on the receiving end of negative looks.
"Davydd?" she called his name softly. There was no response. "Davy? Lovely, we need to look through this last pile." Finally his eyelashes quivered and he looked sideways at her with a heavy-lidded laziness. A few moments passed, with her allowing him to come out of his daze, until he started with a lurch. Looking around with wide violet eyes, he searched the room until he finally rested his gaze on Katryna.
"Kat. How long was I out?" he asked her, his voice husky from hours of misuse.
She replied with understanding laced in sadness, "Two houres and ten minutens this time." She looked at Davy expectantly.
"Demit!" he ran his callused fingers through his long uneven brown hair. "That's a half houre more than last time!" He grimaced.
"I know, Davy. No one knows more than me how much this all pains you." She put her arm around his shoulder comfortingly and rested her forehead against his cheek. "You'll get through it all, I know you will. I'll be here."
His hand went around her waist and he pulled her closer. "I don't think I could live without you, Kat."
She sighed wistfully and whispered, "I know," as he gently kissed her lips.
For the last remaining pile, what they had deemed interesting or useful, they put in a box and gave to Breckin Haltx, their sonnes, or Division Leader. Inside were mostly utensils that shined oddly in the light, a wand actually made of wood, and a book, its yellow pages brittle and bent. Haltx sorted the utensils and other things, but paused when he came upon the book. It might be of great import, but none of them would know or not because they couldn't read Englick. Haltx thought long and hard and finally decided to send it to Prere Tennon, who was one of the few left who could speak the dead language.
A middle-aged man was hunched over a table, his body tense. He always got tense when he thought he was close to finding something that could be something great. And this time he thought he had found it, the one thing that could bring him fame for his translating: a book. Not just any book, though. He had dated it and found that it was almost from the last millenium. A thousand years ago. That alone boggled his mind. But when he translated it, which was very hard considering that the very text was written in a cramped flowery hand, faded and in a language used a thousand years ago, he found something extraordinary.
It was the diary of one Hermione Granger. When he had stumbled upon that name in the first pages, as the writer of the book, and later on saw Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy as part of the text he almost died from joy. What it said, whose it was, a great discovery. Of course, some acknowledgements would have to go to the children who had found it, didn't want any fuss from them.
He was almost done translating the whole journal, when he flipped carefully to the last page. What was written astonished him but yet sent chills down his spine:
A thousand years shall pass,
From whence the Lion and Dragon fought.
And present will be past and forgotten.
The World will War as never seen before,
When magic will Strike on its people,
And the Lion and Dragon will be once more.
He remembered; he knew the legend that the great Lion, Harry Potter, and the Dragon would wake in a time when the boundaries of the worlds were no longer and sibling killed sibling. He knew this was such a time.
Prere Tennon shut the book and gathered all his notes. Stoking his fire, he tossed them in one by one until only the book remained. Then he threw it in and walked away as the corners were licked by the flames.
The Dragon…May we all save ourselves.
1:Tolettos: (toe-let-oz) n. A future word derived from toilettes.
2:Dungent: (do-un-gent) n. A future word derived from dungeon.