The Sharp Blades Of Time

Chapter One, Take A Look At Me Now:

Letting his brief case clatter to the floor he collapsed onto the battered burgundy sofa, removing his glasses he sighed deeply to himself, reflecting on the long day he had just experienced. He opened his eyes slowly and winced at the pale red light streaming through the opened blinds, he could feel a migraine coming on, and very strong migraine. He kicked off his black work shoes and let them be flung across the room and land on the wooden floor, he really didn't have the energy to neatly put his things away, even though he knew he would be cursing his laziness in the morning.

He undid the top button of his blue shirt and loosened his black tie, now having the chance to actually breathe instead of being choked by that blasted thing all day. He sighed deeply to himself again, muttering about no good coffee machines and idiotic students, he had had such a bad day; it should go down in bad day history. He grinned to himself, he always hated Mondays. Mondays were evil in his opinion not only because he had to go to work, it was the work itself that made Mondays unbearable. He had always been terrible at waking up and dragging himself out of bed every morning, he laughed aloud to himself, at least when he was student at Hogwarts he was dreading lessons. Now the tables had turned dramatically, he was now never dreading being taught in the lessons; he was the one doing to teaching.

He shifted on to his side and reached for the television remote, feeling around on the coffee table, he heard his glasses fall on to the floor. Too tired to care he found the remote and switched on the television, there wasn't really that much interesting on, just some rubbish game show on channel five called 'So You Think You Know Your House Cleaner'. Another dose of Big Brother on channel four, he watched silently at the slightly blurred figure on the screen for a moment, setting a frown on his face as 'Michael' picked his nose for a while. He switched the channel over to three, wincing as he saw some stupid man with a Australian accent wrestle a crocodile, the creature thrashed it's arms and legs about so much, it was a wander that the guy with the messy blond hair and accent was alive.

He surfed through the rest of the channels not really caring what was on, he got frustrated after a while and let his temper get the better of him, he threw the remote at the beige wall and watched it's back cover shatter in two and the batteries fly out. Still annoyed with life and cursing that the day couldn't get any worse, he stood up quickly and grimaced, feeling shattered glass under his foot. He had completely forgotten about his glasses, which he had knocked on the floor earlier, he removed his foot and looked down at the shattered remains of his glasses, damn he would have to save up again to by new ones. That would take another three months, even with the mortgage to pay off and other expenses that he owed, wasn't life just great? Oh but life was simply splendid for Nathaniel Evans.

He walked to the telephone and checked his messages, two messages, the monotone of the woman chanted. He pushed the play button on the machine and wandered into the kitchen to get himself something to eat, an all too familiar voice floated into the air.

" Nathaniel, look I just called to say that we need to take a break from each other. This 'relationship' or whatever you call it just isn't working out, you have your job and I have mine, our schedules just aren't equalizing a decent time to spend with each other." The woman who was leaving the message sighed and carried on in a more determined tone " I guess that this is the end, it's over, don't try to come and talk me out of this like you always do. Besides I-I found someone else, y-you can get on with your life, a-and I can carry o-on with m-mine." She stuttered breaking down into tears and ending in-between sobs with " g-good-bye N-Nat" and slammed down the phone.

He stood in the kitchen, his head hung low as he hung onto the sideboard for support, he should've seen this coming. He didn't know how he could be so blind, of course when she sent back the gifts he sent her, the signs she were giving were pretty clear. The beginning of the message meant trouble too, Zoë only used his full name when she was either angry or upset with him. Intelligent yes, but his now ex-girlfriend was extremely emotional, she would cry for hours if she saw a dead hedgehog in the road. He blinked back tears and shook his head, waiting for the next message.

" Hey, Nat, have you received your letter yet? Of course you haven't, you great prune, you never check your mail. Now be a good boy and check for a letter from the London based office in Baker's Street! Go on then!" Nat shook his head again. Smiling in spite of himself, he culd never get over how strait forward and demanding Dave was, heck he should be put number one on England's most demanding and strict P.E teachers list. He reached his letterbox and dished out a white envelope from the growing pile, the address on the front was certainly for him. He opened the letter and pulled out the thick paper, scanning the head address he found the address for the head teachers association office in Baker's street.

He bit down on his bottom lip hard, and let the coppery taste of blood fill his mouth. Not another training course, he'd just been away for the weekend learning how to handle with unruly students, a lesson he really didn't need as he already knew the usual tactics and just had to listen to the same thing being repeated five times in a row. The message continued on the answering machine,

" Now that old son of a bi-- " Nat could hear Dave's wife in the background warning him not to swear on the phone " Well, the 'headmaster' says at least one of us has to go, and it looks like all of us are busy that day. I've been ringing round you know." He could just see Dave nodding, like he always did " Sue is busy visiting relatives, John has a conference somewhere, it's on Frank's Birthday and you know how long it took to get the money for his retirement party. Bryan has a doctor's appointment, I honestly think he should take it; he really needs to get that limp sorted. And the rest as I can tell are rushed off their feet, except for you Nat. . ." He let out a loud moan, glad that Dave couldn't hear him. " Oh and that new student teacher. . . what's his name. . . erm--Joe--that's it, he's free too, but that old dog (he was referring to the headmaster) says he doesn't want him to go alone you know. . . so that leaves you to be a baby sitter for a whole weekend, see ya Nat."

He swung around on the balls of his feet and banged his head and the cupboard, making his migraine much worse. Now he was stuck looking after some stupid under-age wizard for a whole weekend, who thought he was doing a very good job keeping his magical ability secret. Not at all, Nat had spotted that he was of magical ability from the moment he shook hands with him, especially since his ebony wood wand had slid down from his sleeve slightly. Nat had kept quiet about that for ages, he had a certain feeling that Joe had been placed at St Thompson's high school for a reason, Joe looked awfully like Susan Bones, the hair colour and all. And his last name was also Bones, so Nat had a pretty good idea what the magical world had set up, even though he had broken away from all magical relatives and friends when he was sixteen.

Well, not exactly. He lifted his left hand and closed his eyes, concentrating solely on the task he set his whole mind to. He felt a hotness form in his hand and pass, leaving a prickling feeling spreading along his palm. He breathed out and watched as the kitchen appliances made him a cheese sandwich, the bread knife was twirling along the shiny sideboard, having recently leapt out of the draw. He grinned and laughed slightly, who said you couldn't have little fun with magic? He flicked on the radio as a re-mixed version of 'I Don't Need No Good-Advice' By Girls Aloud rocketed through the kitchen. The bread and butter knife did a silly little dance together, spinning on the sideboard, while the floating cheese and bread tried to hit each other.

He laughed at the performance, as the sandwich was made and the knives each bowed in turn and plummeted themselves into the sink, while the butter lifted it's lid and squeaked a small "Thank you, Thank you" and then zoomed into the open fridge door and stuck itself neatly in-between the milk and the water filter. Nathaniel pushed the fridge door shut and started eating his sandwich, god he was a sad prick sometimes. After eating his sandwich, he ran a hand through his coal black hair. Letting his fingers trace the small now barely visible scar on his forehead, his emerald green eyes looked upon the photo album resting on the dining room table sadly. He reached down and opened the leather bound book, resting the open page on a picture of three figures smiling back at him.

His parents stood there smiling and waving, his mother with her long dark red hair, falling over her shoulders and his father, looking exactly like Nat did now. Minus the glasses, eye colour, and the haircut of course. But there in the middle of both of them, he was as a little baby. That picture could've been taken just about days, maybe even hours before his parents were killed. He let one lone tear escape and then rubbed away the rest, who would think that the second most strict English teacher at St Thompson's was crying, he had a reputation to keep up. He turned the page and came to look at the most important of his friends, Ron and Hermione stood side-by-side ginning at each other.

They had only just made friends again on that day, after Hermione had accused Ron of having an emotional out burst of a teaspoon. Nat could remember the atmosphere between them after, they always argued but kept with in good friendship, anyone could see that they were meant for each other. Nat didn't know weather they were dead or alive now, to be honest he didn't care; he knew he couldn't go back.

He turned another page and saw the old picture of the Order of the Phoenix, this one with his parents and the Longbottoms, on the other page he grinned at the picture of the D.A and the new Order of the Phoenix, the D.A at the front. That was after Sirius had died--Nat traced his fingers along a gap between Mrs Weasley and Remus where his godfather should have been standing. He looked upon his fifteen-year-old self, looking miserable; the people in the picture glanced back at him and reflected his mood by frowning and in Mrs Weasley's case, breaking into tears.

He put the album away and set to tidying up his small flat, putting his shoes away and taping the back of the remote together with some tape he found. Before he closed the curtains he looked upon London, the busy streets and lights always amazed him, as night had now fallen and some half decent programs were on the television. He was going to have to have a little talk with the headmaster tomorrow about this course; sometimes he wished he had never run away. He wandered what he would be doing now is he had stayed. Probably stuck doing Aura work and fighting a losing battle against Voldemort, always to trying to live up to a prophecy he knew he could never for fill.

Forever known as the great Harry Potter, no he wasn't having that. From the moment Uncle Vernon had snapped his wand, during the summer after his fifth year. Nat remembered how he stormed out of the house and roamed the streets; he visited hostels and lived rough for a while, only with a few possessions. He never took his Hogwarts stuff with him, only his photo album and the melted pocketknife Sirius has given him, and nothing but the clothes he had ran away in. That was until a Christian funded group had picked him up, given him a roof over his head and food on the table. And put him through school, enough to give him a few good qualifications.

After he had got his own place and enough money he put himself through night school, the hard work paid off, as now he was the teacher doing the teaching. He changed his mind after some thought, he didn't want to be some secret agent, and it was when he was teaching the D.A. When he was filled with pride every time Neville got a spell right or his students worked together, it was something he wanted to experience again sometime. And that was what he got everyday, when he taught his students and had a good laugh with the other members of staff. But the magical world was calling his name again.

The death toll was rising and he knew he would have to return sometime soon, back to insanity, back to sadness, back to his life that was layed out for him before he was even born. He had chanbed his name to fool them, to shake them off of his tail. Evans, was his mother's maiden name and Nathaniel was his grandfather's name, Sirius had told him once, that James' father was called Nathaniel. Nat set down his work and prepared to start marking the papers that had been tested that day, knowing he was set for a whole evening of bad spelling and boring plots.