Reverse of a Dark Future
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. She is a wonderful author and I love her Harry Potter books. I do not own any of the persons in this fic except for Morin Black. He's mine, I created him!
Spoilers: Um, book four. Only a bit though, and book five does not happen in this fic. Good if you have read up to book four.
Pairings: None. Voldemort is being a little perverted with his old friend, Morin Black.
11th January 2010
Yes, hello, it's me again! This story is now being thoroughly redone, and I will try my best to remove most of my old mistakes.
I hope you will enjoy it!
Surrounded by a sea of sand was a large manor, magical wards put there so no Muggles could accidently find their way inside. The wind howled around it for the moment, but in the manor it was oddly silent. All spaces seemed to be covered in a fine layer of dust, and even the air had not escaped it. And with a swift spell, no desert heat had managed to come in. Instead it was almost chillingly cold.
Suddenly, the stairs creaked. Underneath, the soft sound of gentle feet walking down. The creaking echoed in the empty hall.
A man emerged and with a snap of his fingers a fire was burning in the hearth in the nearby living room. Walking over, candles lit after him, as if sensing his presence. Or responding to the subtle use of his wandless magic. Sinking down in a high armchair, he gave out a sigh and absently looked over the room. His face was pale, with dark green eyes that shone in the dark room. His hair was black as a crow's feathers, and it was slung over his left shoulder to normally end around his knees when he stood up, now coming to his waist in its braided state. The pale and long fingers gently drummed on the chairs arms, as he often did whenever he was bored out of his mind. His frame was thin and quite tall, dressed in black robes. A firebolt scar, nearly invisible, could be seen faintly on his forehead.
Harry Potter gently rubbed the dark green eyes with a sigh and resumed his drumming. Fourteen years… For fourteen years he had lived here, in this empty and cold house, despite the hot temperature outside, way out in the desert. Fourteen years since he had killed Voldemort. Everyone in the Wizarding world had wanted to thank him after that. Those who had survived of course.
Harry looked empty ahead of him. Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Albus… so many had died. Remus, locked up in St. Mungo for being mentally unstable. The Boy-Who-Lived pulled out a small bottle from the depths of his robe and stared at it as he turned it with his long fingers. A potion for curing werewolves. Too late for Remus, as he had already given in to the beast. Harry still could not throw it away. Severus had helped him it. Severus, killed by Bellatrix Lestrange.
Harry had thrown his first Avada Kedavra on that very day. He had enjoyed the look of shock on that bitch's face as she died. But the greasy professor had died as well. You could not wake up the dead, no matter how much you wished for it. Severus had become a great friend to Harry, and now he was all alone. Or rather, he had chosen to be all alone. Mad-Eye Moody was still alive; one of the few survivors of his friends.
The green-eyed man had not stayed long in public before disappearing. He could not take it. All the whispers, the looks, the congratulations from those who had thought he was a nutcase. He just wanted away.
So he had run away. He found this house that belonged to Morin Black, an old friend to Voldemort who had stepped over to the Light side not long after Voldemort had finished school. Morin Black had died ten years ago by suicide. He had left anything he owned to the Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry rubbed his eyes again; a headache was coming. He thought again over the conversation where Morin had told him about a potion that would take him to the past. Too bad he had yet to find it. The two of them had even made plans about what to do if he ever got back to the past.
A sudden knock on the outer door made Harry freeze. He leaped up as it knocked again, wondering who the hell had found him here, in the middle of nowhere. He silently cursed himself for not being more aware but stopped as he recognized the aura. He smiled the tiniest bit and went to the door. He opened it, startling the man outside and said:
"Yes I believe that is me," Harry answered and stepped aside.
Moody limped inside and Harry closed the door. His normally spinning eye was gone. Left was a gaping hole. Harry knew that side of Moody's head had been damaged pretty good, so the eye did not work anymore. Not with Moody at least. The ex-Auror shook off his robe and said:
"Took a good three years to find you, you little brat."
"Really? And I thought I was grown up by now."
"No one expected you to live in Morin Black's house. And yes, you are still a brat. Is he home or…?"
"He died ten years ago," Harry said. "Some tea?"
"Tea sounds good," Moody said. "Do you keep up with dates?"
"Dates? Ehm, no? Why should I?" Harry asked with a curiosity in his voice.
"For your information, it's July. July 31st."
Harry stared blankly at Moody. The older man could see the younger trying to understand. Then:
"Oh, it's my birthday."
"Well, congratulations on that one. How could you forget?"
"The only reason I know it's day and night it's because of the light," Harry said as he conjured some tea from thin air. "And sometimes, not even that helps."
Moody sat down on the sofa with a groan and then said:
"I got a present for you."
"For me? I never got presents after my 17th birthday," Harry said.
"Well, I got one now, brat. Or well, actually, it's from me, Severus and Remus from the beginning," Moody said. "We figured it would be the perfect gift. Never had the chance to give it though. And when Severus died and Remus was locked in, I couldn't get myself to give it to you."
Harry was very still as Moody pressed a small package into his hands. With a silent understanding Harry opened the package and then stared. A mirror, surrounded by jewels, Ancient Runes and holy stones. Moody spoke up, startling Harry:
"Severus left a message with it."
The Boy-Who-Lived looked up and the ex-Auror continued:
"Severus' exact words: The last of its kind, and only one left in it. Remus and I added: Be careful what you wish for."
Harry stared at him for a moment, and then it clicked. Moody grinned and said:
"Seems you got a good bit of Ravenclaw in you."
Harry stroke the mirror and said:
"I'm going up for a bit. Feel yourself at home."
"Sure," Moody said as he snatched a scone.
Harry walked up and opened the door to Morin's old room. The only room he had left untouched. He could not bring himself to remove the things Morin had left behind. He stopped in the middle of the dusty room, took a deep breath as he closed his eyes and then said aloud:
"I wish to be taken back exactly 22 years in this very same spot, in the very same room and house."
Moody felt the house shake and took up his teacup before the liquid could spill over. The sound of a thousand broken cries and the dust rose in the rooms. Light made him blink for a few times and then it was all silent again. Moody felt a single tear leave his eye as he sat in darkness. Then he said:
"Make your parents proud Harry."