Disclaimer: I DO NOT and never will own the rights to the Harry Potter world or the characters or concepts within the universe of such.

I apologize to anyone reading my fic Emerald Changes, I'm having a slight block from writing more of it at the moment and this plot bunny struck me rather hard. I have the basis for this story typed but I will probably have delays between chapters as my life always seems to be hectic when struck with the urge to write. I was going to wait to post this but it always helps to receive feedback to help keep the ideas going. Anyways, please enjoy.

Sirius sat in stunned silence, the scene playing on repeat in his mind. The green light of an Avada Kedavra, heading straight for him, knowing he couldn't move out the way in time, accepting his fate, and in a way, feeling at peace. He would be sad for those left behind, Remus and Harry especially, but he knew they could do it without him. What did he truly contribute anyway?

Just as the light was about to hit him he saw a black blur, a flash of reflected light and he was shoved violently to the side, hitting the cold, hard floor. It took him but a moment to process that he wasn't dead, that someone had managed to save him. Turning to thank his savior, his eyes widened and a chocked sob tore from his throat. His hands reaching desperately, knowing he wouldn't make it in time to stop what was happening.

Emerald orbs gazed at him with shock and acceptance, a hint of anger at himself for his clumsiness shining through the expressive eyes as they slowly shut. The face they belonged to falling through the tattered curtain with the rest of his godson's body. He vaguely registered that the sounds of fighting witches and wizards had halted, the Headmaster having arrived and taken control of the fight, the Death Eaters fleeing as they rushed to get word to their master of the boy's demise. His own cousin cackling madly in the distance with sounds of triumph. "I killed Harry Potter! I killed Harry Potter!"

A hand lightly touched his shoulder, pulling him from the never-ending replay in his head and he glanced up into the face of his oldest friend before letting loose a heartwrenching sob.

"Oh Padfoot. He - I-" Remus stopped trying to speak as he knelt nest to Sirius and let the man cling to him, his own eyes clouded with sorrow. He knew no words would help. Their Prongslet was gone, their last tie to James, to hope and happiness destroyed. Torn from them too soon.

"He saved me Moony. He pushed me out of the way and tripped into the curtain! It's my fault! IT'S MY FAULT!" The words came out in muffled speech against Remus' shoulder.

"He wouldn't want you to blame yourself. He chose to save you, he loved you Padfoot," He knew the words wouldn't take the guilt from his friend, but felt he had to say something to push back his own sorrow. "We have to get out of here before the Aurors arrive."

He managed to get Sirius to his feet, slowly leading him away from the veil and towards the exit, intent on making sure his friend was out of harms way to honor Harry's sacrifice. A deep menacing thought creeping through his very being, his inner wolf fueling the rage building in him.

That bitch is going to pay.

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The banners above the once bright and joyous hall full of chattering children content with gossiping and filling their faces with various foods were black, the hall quiet and curious. The magical sky attached to the ceiling was showing a starry sky and had clouds rumbling across, promising rain and misery. A loud clearing of the throat catching the attention of all in the room. Albus Dumbledore stood before his students not wearing his normally vibrant and brightly colored ridiculous robes, instead he wore a plain, ordinary black and the twinkling was gone from his eyes as he looked around and began to speak.

"Last night we lost one of our own. The school has lost a bright soul and Hogwarts mourns her loss of a child. As I can see the rumors have gone around and some of you have already heard. I am to confirm that the rumors are indeed true. Harry Potter has been taken from us too early. His young life snuffed out by Death Eaters," there were gasps and a few exclamations of protest, not wanting to believe the words spoken. A few snickers were heard coming from the Slytherin table but they had the knowledge not to show on their faces just how happy the thought made them. "I know the Ministry does not want to admit that Voldemort has returned but Harry saw it, and we should honor him by believing him and preparing ourselves. Death Eaters took the life of a 15 year old boy with no regard that he was just a child and they will not hesitate to do the same to any in their way. You must prepare yourselves for the reality of war. Honor Harry's life."

He sat back down thinking he had handled it quite well, scanning the faces across the tables to see if the message had stuck. His eyes stopped on the empty seats on the bench at the Gryffindor table where the Golden Trio normally sat. He gave a small sigh and shook himself a little. Yes it was unfortunate that Harry had died but he would be their martyr, their symbol of hope even in death. Things would be a tad more difficult since Voldemort hadn't been the one to kill him, ensuring that the horcrux was destroyed but since Harry hadn't miraculously been brought back and his body was gone he didn't see why it would matter. With Harry no longer in the land of the living the horcrux wasn't either. Two down.

While the Headmaster congratulated himself on figuring out how to use Harry's death, Severus was glancing at the old man with barely concealed rage. He had sworn an oath, an unbreakable vow to protect Harry for Lily, to atone. But yet… He was still alive, he still had his magic. Something was wrong. Oaths and vows could be tricky as the wording played a big role in how the magic binding it interpreted the actions of those involved but he was positive that should the boy die, he would at least have his magic ripped away or be in some kind of pain. But, nothing. Not even a whisper of any kind of danger. Had the old fool tricked him all those years ago or was he blatantly lying to everyone about the Potter brat. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he trailed his eyes over the brats. Some were openly bawling, others shaking their heads in disbelief and others, namely his snakes, were blank of expressions but if one looked closely enough you could see slight emotions in their eyes. They were gleeful, the ones who had inclinations towards the Dark Lord and his campaign. What surprised him was Draco looking torn over his rival no longer being around. He looked almost… Lost.

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The duo of the golden trio sat hugging each other tightly, comforting one another as best they could, which admittedly, wasn't much. They were there, they could have helped but they didn't, truly they couldn't but neither could shake the feeling of guilt and blaming themselves. The crackling fire of the Gryffindor common room gave a false sense of comfort that neither felt. They had been excused from classes and couldn't bear to face the Great Hall with Harry no longer sitting by their side or the forlorn faces of their fellow students.

"I can't believe he's gone, it can't be real. He's Harry. He gets into trouble all the time and he always pulls through. Why hasn't he come back? It's gotta be a joke 'Mione," the ginger boy's voice was heavy with wet emotion. " We have to find him. What if he's trapped. That's gotta be it! He just stuck behind that stupid curtain and no one thought to pop their head in to help him out!"

He glanced up to look into Hermione's eyes begging it to make sense, for her to agree that they run to find him, run to some sense of normalcy. She offered a shaky smile, her lips trembling with the effort to refrain from letting the salty tears fall as she tried to soothe Ron.

"It's not a joke, Ron. Once through that curtain, there is no coming back." She held back on adding anymore as a lump made itself known in her throat and she had to swallow thickly to prevent the sob that wanted to escape.

"That can't be true.. It just can't. It's just a bloody stupid curtain!" Ron's loud outburst made Hermione jump slightly but she understood his frustration. She ran her hands down his back in a comforting gesture calming him slightly. She knew she should tell him what the veil was, that once through the arch there was no coming back, even a touch of the tattered curtain could drain you of life but to go through it was to step into the realm of death with no chance of coming back but one look at his face told her to wait, that now wasn't the time. Instead she made placating noises, letting him rage and cry with his face in her hair and she stifled her own sobs, the tears streaming down her face against her will and tried to be strong for her last friend.

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Voldemort prided himself on being cold, emotionless, cunning and above all powerful. He had felt a sense of unprecedented glee when Bellatrix had returned and gloated that the Potter child was dead. He had expressed his anger at the prophecy having been lost in the midst of battle and that while he was satisfied that the child was no longer a thorn in his side, he was angered as the kill was supposed to be his. A round of crucios that could have been much worse went around the gathered group and he had dismissed them. After though, there was a nagging sense inside him he didn't want to put a name to. He didn't feel, the thought was preposterous but he couldn't help but realize that he had a sense of emptiness. The Potter brat had been a thorn in his side for so long that the thought that he was no longer around had thrown him, not that he would willingly let anyone know and anyone who thought as much would be swiftly punished. He knew, even if he would never admit it, that he had looked forward to the brat's confrontations, to the adrenaline that coursed through him at the thought that this one child could potentially match him. Had been destined to have the power to match him. And now there was no one. Dumbledore of course would be someone who would give him trouble but he never considered the old man as much of a threat.

He let out an uncharacteristic sigh, glad that none of his followers were present to see their lord looking so human, not that they would survive with the knowledge intact. He had let his obsession with the boy cloud his main goals and for that he knew he had been foolish. Yes the great Lord Voldemort had been foolish. He chuckled softly at his own stupidity.

$Masssster? What troublessss you? You sssmell of emotion.$ Nagini drew him out of his pondering and he moved his hand down to stroke the scales on her head as it drew up to look at him. She let out her tongue in rapid beats to let him know she approved of the attention.

$Ahh Nagini.. How could I have let myself become ssso obssssesssed? A mere child took all of my attention and now that the child issss gone…$ He sighed again. $I am unfamiliar with what I am experiencing.$

His familiar moved so that the top of her long coils rested comfortably in his lap as he continued to stroke her scales. $Perhapssss you missssss the child?$

The Dark Lord chuckled darkly. Surely not. But.. He could not find another word to describe the lack of motivation and ambition he was currently experiencing, something that had never happened to him before. He ran his free hand through the soft tresses of his hair as he had let his glamour fall once he was alone, a move no one would ever attribute to the fearful man before them. He had worked on his appearance since his resurrection. He would never admit to being vain but he knew how far charisma could get, since so many of his followers were gained from the oozing amounts he had had. He wasn't fooling himself to believe he could have the desired effect in the snakelike visage he had reborn into. It worked to cow his followers but if he ever wanted to use the vast amounts of cunning he was graced with then he could not look inhuman. The rituals had been painful and draining but he was happy with the result. He looked young, mid-twenties with a deceptively handsome face but had retained his red eyes as they were from so many uses of the Dark Arts and his creations of the Horcruxes. You could only kill and taint yourself so much before noticeable changes to the body happened belying your nature.

$That can't be it my dear Nagini. I believe I jusssst find myssself with no enemy and it issss different. Now my goalsss sssshall be easssier to attain.$

He pushed the confused emptiness out of his mind and stood slosly from his throne, Nagini following him at the sedate pace he set as he walked to his office. Now that the boy was out of his way he could go back to the path he had been on before he had ever heard of the blasted prophecy in the first place. Panic and fear in the masses so he could subtly take the Ministry and eventually the country. They were all within his grasp now.

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Somewhere within the Department of Mysteries, an archway stood atop a raised dais. Steps adorned the walls on every side, letting the mysterious veil have the center of the room. Countless Unspeakables had studied the enigma, yet none had ever known with certainty what laid beyond. All they knew was that once through, no one ever came out. The whispers sometimes heard faintly seeming to be filled with malcontent and malicious intentions, attempting to beckon those who came too close to just take a peek.

In the darkness of the night, the veil seemed more ominous and any sconces adorning the walls giving off only a sliver of light as the veil seemed to suck the life from the fire. An invisible breeze seemed to pass through the arch and the curtain fluttered. With no one to witness the affair, the veil was drawn to the side, a pale hand grasping the edges of the death veil. A long, muscled, yet wiry form moved to step out of the arch, seemingly from nowhere as there was no room behind the curtain.

Pale skin, raven hair and impossibly green eyes adorned the man as he gazed around the empty room. His pink lips opened showing a line of menacing sharp white teeth and he breathed in a deep gulp of air. A slight smile adorned his features and he stretched his muscled arms as if awakening from a long nap. Waving his hand in front of him, a date appeared before his face.

July 31st, 1996

He waved the numbers away and a smirk appeared on his pale face, the shadows making him appear more dangerous. "Seems you thought this was funny. My birthday of all days."

With a swirl of dark cloth, he blended in with the shadows and the man disappeared from the room as if he had never been present. The veil stilled and all was silent.