- The Dark Arts
- Harry Potter Tom Riddle
- Darkfic Historical
- Multiple Eras
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince The Tales of Beedle the Bard
Published: 12/13/2010Updated: 12/13/2010Words: 918Chapters: 1Hits: 25
Consequences of Misquoted Magic
- Story Summary:
- In Harry's 6th year, a duel with Draco results in unexpected consequences. Sent back in time to 1944 with no memories, Harry learns a new view of the Dark side. Conflicts arise on return to his own time with his old memories. Which side will he choose?
Chapter 01 - Chapter One
Disclaimers: The Harry Potter universe and characters belong to J. K. Rowling. No money is being made from this fanfiction, and no copyright infringement is intended. In summary ... not mine.
This is my very first fanfic so criticism is welcome, but please keep it constructive :) Reviews are appreciated. Hope you enjoy.
"So, are you coming tomorrow mate?"
"Huh?" Harry looked up in bewilderment. So lost in his thoughts was he, that he had not realised he was no longer alone in the dorm.
He watched as his long time friend tiredly folded his gangly frame into his bed and prepared to settle down for the night. Ron sighed and rephrased his question to his now attentive friend.
"Are you coming to Hogsmead with me and 'Mione tomorrow?"
He watched, exasperated as Harry prepare to decline and cut in before he got the chance.
"Come on mate. It's been ages since we spent any time together which wasn't in class or dinner. You always go straight to bed rather than spend any time in the common room and we ... well we miss you." Ron's eyes were wide as he looked plaintively at Harry.
Harry internally rolled his eyes at the blatant guilt trip. He had hardly been aiming for antisocial. He was still mourning Sirius and struggled to interact with others as his mind always wandered to that night. The night he lost Sirius to the veil at the Department of Mysteries.
In all honesty he hadn't had much chance to think of Sirius during his summer at the Dursleys'. His uncle had been particularly bitter after the interaction with the Order at King's Cross and had taken it out on Harry in any way he could without resorting to actual violence. Harry had spent the summer cleaning and gardening a lot more than usual, while eating a lot less. The only benefit being that he could focus his thoughts on his tasks, with his exhaustion helping him to collapse into a dreamless sleep each night.
Unfortunately, upon his return to Hogwarts, everything from the year before had all come charging back. The hours he spent in the same castle where he had experienced that fateful vision helped to ensure he never forgot his own input in his godfather's death. The nightmares he had avoided since June came back full force and he hadn't had a restful night since September 1st.
Upon consideration, he realised that Ron's idea had merit. Hogsmeade would hopefully take his mind from his negative thoughts, if only for a few hours. He glanced up into blue eyes and gave a small smile.
"Sure mate. Should be fun."
Ron grinned and rolled over, pulling the crimson blanket over himself and grunting as he shuffled his tall structure into a comfortable position. He was snoring within the minute.
Harry sighed as he saw this. He couldn't help feeling a stab of jealousy at his friend's height. He knew it was unavoidable after a childhood of malnourishment, but his small build bothered him at times. He shared a dorm with four growing boys, but it looked like his growth spurt had given up at a pitiable five foot five. A height considered on the shorter side of average for women. Positively petit for a man. A man expected to be a saviour if the prophecy was to be believed.
The prophecy was another issue that had helped to dominate Harry's thoughts. Without the prophecy he would most likely still have parents, and a Headmaster who didn't waste time manipulating him. Who would ignore him like any other student. Although he had managed to avoid thoughts of Sirius during the summer, his mind had been plagued by Sybill Trelawney's haunting recitation. In his heart he knew he didn't want to battle Voldemort. Harry hated death and pain. After a childhood of suffering through neglect and childhood bullies he had seen the Wizarding world as a beacon of hope. An easier life with no conflict. Where magic would solve all problems and everyone would live peacefully.
That idea was destroyed the same day Hagrid told him of his own history. He learned of a world of dark lords and blood supremacy. He hated it. He hated the view of Muggleborns as tainted and Muggles as archaic cavemen. He also hated the view that Muggles were harmless and innocent. Harry was by no means naïve. He saw faults with both factions of the war. Muggles were advanced and dangerous. He knew this from experience and it frustrated him to no end that both light and dark wizards were so uninformed and frankly ignorant about the development of the Muggle world. A world so much larger than the Wizarding community, that underestimating it seemed incredibly foolish in Harry's opinion.
Harry's thoughts were interrupted by his own jaw cracking yawn. A flick of his wand showed the time as one in the morning, and he noticed that yet again his thoughts had caused him to miss the entrance of his room mates. He could hear the snorting and snuffling of the other boys in their beds, and decided that it was probably best for him to follow suit if he wanted to be up early for Hogsmeade.
He pulled his curtains closed before crawling under his thick quilt, necessary to keep him warm in the crisp October night. As his eyes closed he hoped he would have a night of peace, with no more dreams of prophecies and veils.