Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the Harry Potter series. However, I do own the plot and any original character that I might create for this story.
A/N: I was writing the next chapter of "Take a Look Through the Masquerade" when this idea popped in my head and I had a sudden need to write it down. It has no plot outline so I'm not sure if I should continue with it. It will also probably be my first attempt at including a bit of romance in my fan fiction.
Anyway, read and tell me what do you think
by The Mysterious Nobody
Nymphadora Tonks was not in a good mood. Things were going pretty bad around her and those she loved and she was beginning to get desperate trying to find a solution to the problems of the wizarding world. Sometimes, she would dream about a world without the constant menace of a resurrected Dark Lord, without the weigh of thousands of hundreds of lives on her shoulders, and the shoulders of the rest of the order.
Twenty years prior, the darkest of the evil wizards ever existed, Voldemort, also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle had been miraculously defeated by a prophetic baby by the name of Harry James Potter. Among the auror ranks the Potter family had been well known and respected; James Potter, was described by her mentor, Alastor Moody, as one of the finest aurors and duellers ever. Master of the transfiguration arts and fast as a bullet, he sped up through the ministry ranks as one of their finest agents. His wife, Lily Evans Potter was also respected for her work in the depths of the ministry. As a charms mistress and a skillful witch, she was suspected to work as an unspeakable.
No one knew what happened that fateful hallow's eve in their home cottage in Godric's Hollow village. The late Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore, as head of the Order of the Phoenix had explained to its members at the best of his abilities what led to the defeat of the darkest wizard ever, for he, in a manner of speaking, had been involved in it.
Of course, everything seemed like a well planned conspiracy, the conspiracy of fate, for fate had planned it all. Prophesied by a disheveled and scruffy seer, the savior would born to those who had defied the dark lord three times while the month of july neared its end.
There were only two couples fitting that description, and the Potters were one of the lot. And when there was no more hope left, the end of their lives, their sacrifice made the wizarding world happy. In an horrible and gruesome twist of destiny, the family had been betrayed by one of their most closer friends, sold to the Dark Lord the withstood the wrath of Voldemort in their own home until they could do it no more. Their infant son, Harry James Potter, had seen the face of death in the form of the Dark Lord.
When the killing curse, the Avada Kedavra, bathed the nursery with the sickly neon-green light something strange happened. Rebounding on the objective, the instrument of death returned to the caster, vanishing him forever to an existence as a mere shadow of his former self.
Nymphadora sighed and with her gloved hand wiped a single tear from her left cheek. The tragic story of the Potter family always managed to squeeze a few tears from the eyes of the members of the Order.
But this tale, also reminded them that they were not safe anymore. With the dark lord gone, the disappearance of Harry Potter was cast aside by the general public. The boy was legend; What did it matter, if he was legend, that he was alive r not? Legends have part of truth and part of fiction in them, so why not let the fantasy follow its own way.
According to Dumbledore, something happened during the boy's childhood that drove him away from his guardians, his muggle aunt and uncle, Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Placed there for the sake of protection, as Arabella Figg had once said, the boy grew up unloved and scorned for five years until he mysteriously vanished into the streets of London to never be seen again. The motives? Supposedly child abuse, but as many other things concerning the boy, it would never come clean. Apparently, the headmaster, with the help of the Order, had been capable of tracking the boy into an orphanage in muggle London until he vanished again.
When the boy did not come to Hogwarts, motives unknown, he turned into a true legend. A story for children, to give them hope in dark times.
All this story led at the point where she was now. Desperate, angry and thirsty. It had been days and weeks of fruitless search. The Order of the Phoenix had been reorganized a few years ago and they had been doing different tasks for the sake of the wizarding world since then. It had all started in 1993, when Sirius Black, the one who betrayed the Potters to Voldemort escaped from Azkaban, the wizarding prison. Following him, there had been a massive breakout of followers of the Dark Lord. The Order used the contacts in the ministry to catch escaped death eater and to avoid a reorganization of the group. Nymphadora was introduced to the secret society thanks to Kingsley Shacklebolt's recomendation and Moody's acceptance. Since then, she had led operations and missions for said group, but in the last few years the enemy seemed to be more and more organized. They had reformed their old group.
Recruiting had begun, and the order introduced new members to their ranks, fresh from Hogwarts and selected by the Headmaster himself. Nymphadora had befriended a few of them such as the Weasley family and Hermione Granger, a witty, intelligent and idealistic muggleborn witch.
The death eater attack and raids were sporadic and not very focused until they stopped abruptly in 1999. Something was brewing, something bad and thanks to one of the contacts of the Order, it had been reveled that the Dark Lord had finally reunited himself with his followers possessing on of them, Quinius Quirrell to act as a medium until he could return to full power. Weak, desperate, he began to plan an attack to the ministry of magic, for reasons unknown.
Dumbledore, alarmed, sent the order after them the same night. The dark followers had successfully infiltrated into the Department of Mysteries and encountered the opposing force, engaging them in a fierce battle. Sadly, in the end, they managed to steal what they were looking for: the record of the prophecy concerning Voldemort and one Harry James Potter.
Voldemort knew now what the destiny had prepared for him, so he began planning again. It arrived to our ears that to gain full power again, the Dark Lord needed the boy and he was planning to find him, use him and finally, kill him. Unsure of how to proceed, the Order started a manhunt that would last more than a year until the present moment for Nymphadora.
They had to find the boy, wherever he was. He was the key to the Wizarding World's survival, but he was yet to be found.
With another sigh, the petite metamorphmagus shuddered wrapping the fluffy coat around her figure tightly. Still, that did little for her thanks to the typical english weather. She sneezed loudly and grumbled. Apparently, she was waiting for someone. These days it was rare for Nymphadora to take a break and going out, and to be standing in the rain was not her idea of having fun.
Hermione had come to her waving some strange-looking papers in her hand, saying that she had got tickets for a 'magic show' in the Soho Theatre in London. Of course, adventorous as ever, the young metamorphmagus had accepted the young witch's invitation. It was new for her, and new things were exciting. Muggles were very interesting from her own point of view, and the idea of a muggle doing magic shocked her to the core, so here she was, standing on Old Charing Cross, waiting for Hermione to come.
It was not common for an act of that type to be hosted in that theatre, but it seemed that it was a revolution of sorts. Everyone said it was amazing and the public could hardly believe their eyes.
Sneezing again, this time louder, the Auror jumped to the sudden touch of a hand on her shoulder. Hearing laughter behind her, she turned her head to see her bushy-haired friend with a hand over her mouth stiffing the chuckles.
"Wotcher Tonks!" Hermione saluted mockingly, still giggling. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah, just with my arse frozen and wet... Where the hell have you been Herms?" responded the auror pretending hurt and irritation
"Ah, you know me... I was in Hogwarts and found this book and..." Nymphadora knew she was going to start rambling again, so she interrupted her friend as fast as she could
"Yeah, I know your never ending love story with literature." She laughed as the other witch acquired a slight pink color on her cheeks "Anyway, you're the one who bought the tickets and you know where the show is, so why don't you lead us there before we are late"
"Yes, I know. Follow me, then. A friend of mine told me that the show is awesome. I laughed a bit when she told me that this had to be real magic"
"We'll see this 'wizard' then, won't we?" The metamorphmagus laughed with her friend.
The two girls walked for a couple of minutes, gossiping, until they arrived at the entrance. Giving the tickets to the clerk. After a couple more minutes later, an usher escorted both ladies to their seats, close to the stage.
They turned their heads to another spectator who had just let out a "wow" at the decoration. Looking around, they let out a gasp themselves.
The room had been decorated to look like the Egiptian Hall in London's Picadilly in the 1870's. The theatre was pretty full and you could feel the impatience lingering in the air. Chatting in whispers, the audience was eager to see what was going on in the stage. There was little light and only a dim yellow shimmerng light was focused in the middle of the stage, where a little wooden stool was waiting, like the audience, for the show to start.
The whispering of the audience was interrupted when suddenly, the sound of footsteps announced an arrival.
Nymphadora looked at her friend and could see her enthusiasm and nervousness at the incoming show. What she didn't know, is that she was mirroring the same feelings. Anticipation came, and her breath hitched a bit when the outline of a figure could be seen entering the scene.
From the right corner of the stage entered a tall, thin man. He seemed to be on his late sixties, maybe entered his seventies. Wearing a little paper on his hands, and a suit reminiscent of those of the Victorian age, he adressed the rest of the room.
"Tonight, as many nights before this one, we will defy the laws of the universe. The man that I'm about to present, has travelled through this world trying to find an answer to those undecipherable mysteries and has seen more than most of you, esteemed audience have..." Hermione made a face as the man arrived at this part of the speech, wrinkling her nose a bit."... This man, I'm told, left his home as a child to an adventure and vanished to the entire world. This evening, from the darkest corners of the world, I give you: Donar"
No one said a thing and the room was quiet as a grave. Eevryone was looking at the man in the stage, who began to retreat until the strangest thing happened; he vanished in front of the audience's eyes. However, the clothes remained, solid as if he was still inside the suit. Quickly, the suit walked towards the little stool and crouched to apparently get something. As if defyng the laws of gravity, a cane and a top hat came up grabbed by an invisible hand. The suit put on the hat and walking again tried to leave the scene until it was stopped by a young man dressed in a black Victorian suit. It was difficult to see him with the low light, but you could figure out his outline and what he was doing. The young man walked to the void suit and just when they crossed, the cane appeared magically in his hand and the suit vanished from existence.
Observing the audience, the young magician stepped into the light, letting the public know his features. He was slightly tall and thin. His face was square-jawed and he had a defiant look on him. The hair, black and shaggy, stopped at the base of his neck and obscured his fringe. His gaze was occluded by lightly shaded glasses. A light and short goatee was completing his appearance.
Coming to a halt where the light was at its most intense, he unbuttoned his jacket. Leaving it on the stool for a moment, he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, exposing his arms to those who were watching him. Once finished, he grabbed the Norfolk Jacket and shook it violently once. It suddenly disappeared and only his outstretched hand remained.
Everyone was watching in awe and mystery to the man before them. The two witches were contemplating it with equal interest enthranced by the atmosphere and the spectacle. Nymphadora was slack-jawed, impressed and wondering how a muggle could have achieved the art of magic. Hermione felt like she was being transported to the victorian era, when magicians were the stars of theatres and cabarets. This man was good, and he knew it. His tricks, if they were indeed tricks, weren't like anything that both witches had ever seen.
Drawing an imaginary square on the air with his finger, he grabbed something and out of thin air a cage appeared with a pigeon inside. With equal gracefulness, he traced his fingers through the edges of said cage and it vanished as fast as it had come. He grabbed the pigeon and tied it carefully so it couldn't fly. Then, he got a Hold of it and threw the animal to the unsuspecting audience. A girl in one of the front rows squealed as suddenly an egg impacted with her dress. The pigeon was gone.
With a face of concern, the young illusionist walked down to were the young girl was and drew a tissue. He cleaned her dress profusely with an apologetic look giving her the tissue to keep. The girl got a hold of the piece of fabric when it suddenly became the lost pigeon.
Chuckling, the man climbed to the stage again and with a wave of his hand a dress appeared on his outstretched arm. Everyone looked at it transfixed until it clicked in their heads. It was the same dress he had just tried to clean with the tissue! The audience turned to the young girl who let out a shriek until she realized that she was wearing a completely different dress.
Both witches contemplated the show with growing interest. As every other person in the theatre, they were hungry for more, and more they got. Every trick, every stunt was far more impressive than the last one. With the proper ambience and the proper act it had become one of the most interesting things they had ever seen. Nymphadora had an awestruck look on her face. There were no lights, no trace of magic whatsoever, and with all she had seen, this was leaving her speechless. Every trick since the one in the dress, had come with a phylosophic meaning to it; about life, death, time... Every mystery was acquiring new levels of intrigue.
All of a sudden, the man stopped. Looking straight to the audience, he held up his hand.
"Now, for my next performance, I would like to call for a volunteer. Someone who believes that magic truly exists." Many hands could be seen raised among them, but one in particular caught the young magician's attention. A young lady dressed in funky clothes with bob pink hair whose hand was raised with enthusiasm. He smiled slyly and walked up to her. With an outstretched hand, he captured her arm and got her up. His smile widened even more when he could hear a faint "What are you doing?" from the girl in the next seat.
Nymphadora got up and hand in hand with the young illusionist climbed up to the stage. He amusedly took her hand and with a reverence, kissed her knuckles which caused her to blush profusely in shyness. He chuckled and with a soft "thank you for your assistance" seated her in the everpresent stool.
She caught a glympse of his face again and saw his emmerald-eyed gaze for the first time. With a bit more enthusiasm and a faint smile, she watched him give an explanation until he ran his hand through the front of hs hair, revealing a lightning-bolt shaped scar.
The attention of the show was once again on her, when the young auror fainted and her head collided with the wood of the stage. The last thing that Nymphadora saw that night was the familiar face of the young magician, with the famous scar on his forehead, asking her if she was ok. With that, she blacked out and the show ended.
A/N2: Well, here it is. I know I should be writing the next chapter of "Take a Look through the Masquerade" but this idea came up and I had to write it down as I said before. Don't worry though, it will be posted as soon as possible.
Anyway, feel free to ask anything you want. By the way, Harry's artistic name has a meaning which will be revealed later.
Please, tell me what do you think of it and if I should go on with the idea.