Shadow's Truth

Harry Potter and the Shadow's Truth

By Leanne

Hogwarts has never been the same since the world around it fell into shadows. Terror reigns as youngsters attempt to learn what those older and wiser than they can teach. Danger lurks around each corner as peril searches hard to find its opening within the walls.

Healthy little ones search the walls for the secrets left by their predecessors. Even in the cold dank darkness that has lingered for an age, there are those that hold hope dear in their hearts. Their bright smiles fill a room with joy and hold the attention of those who have felt the bitterness settle around them.

Hell bounds down each unknown corridor and drags its victims into the abyss of terror and misery. Without help, hell reigns supreme, and tortures the suffering. Power hungry beings hunt the world around them for the weak. Influential men and women dance long into the night, using whatever means necessary to gain what they desire. They take what they want, and destroy what's left behind. No one cares to ask what those left behind think or want.

What the future holds, no child or adult can tell. The wizarding community, now in grave peril, searches fruitlessly for the answer to their dilemma. Ministry officials use old texts and forgotten knowledge to gain the upper hand. Traitors linger within each window, door, bedroom, office; no one is trustworthy when the world is turned upside down. When the world favours the darkness and those that serve it, there is only one way to find the truth to injustice. Only one thing to do to save the world; no one wants to sacrifice the chance that they might be wrong. No one wants to see danger remain; it is the constant reminder of their mistakes.

Innocent crimson blood drenches the once green glens. The stench of death and decay can be smelt in every village, town and city. What will come of a world torn between good and evil? Torn between the weak and powerful? No one has an answer to such a question; no one wants to think of the outcome. Without looking to the future, they condemn the children to chaos and destruction. Instability damns the hopes of each born into chaos, destroys the chances of a beautiful future. One child, one adult, one person, one dreamer, if only one would stand up and demand an end! If only one would curse the name of evil, stand and defy the normality of life, and fight for the future, for the light, for hope!

Twisted malicious words haunt the known world; words that forsake the name of wizards, words that speak and hold truth in their very essence. If one had listened to the words then, would the outcome of the world have been different? If one had taken the words to heart, would those who had felt death's sweet breath upon their skin still breath? One can only speculate on the chances the future could have held. One could only dream for there to be a chance to make things right. Words, who would have thought simple little words would hold the fate of a civilization in their meaning.

~*~

A haunted expression adorned to his chalk white face, as he turned the corner cautiously. Terror echoed in his pale blue eyes as he turned his attention to the childlike figure slumped up against the building wall. Horror-struck, he lifted the wooden wand in his hand and hope he wouldn't run into anyone.

The building was crumbled and falling apart, much like a number of the wizarding communities. They had grown used to seeing ruined homes, littered with an endless line of broken bodies. No one survived when the shadows came. There is no face of evil until you face the shadow and know that death cannot be simple. That death is not meant to be a way to end one's life. Once the shadow gets you, you join it as an entity with no purpose.

Fear encased his body as he lifted the child's chin; he had to know. He had to make sure that the child before him, the sweet an innocent little boy, wasn't his own. Death was one thing, losing your own child was another.

For months he had tried to clear the mounds of partially decayed bodies from the streets. Those who had survived the ordeal knew what their duty was. Whoever died the day the shadow came, their bodies would be placed on a pyre and burned. It had become their way of living. Those who survived against the Shadow, however, died within months of his appearance. Disease took whatever a person had left and tore it to shreds, leaving only another carcass to add to the pile.

Sighing with relief, he picked up the body and carried it to the pile of children that would be burned that night. He had made a pact with himself: never allow victims to etch them selves into your core. He was not about the sacrifice himself when there was nothing left to save. Once the Shadow got you, there was nothing left of the soul.

Leaving the streets as night fell upon the city, he entered the last remaining building that had been untouched by evil. A cold draft blew through the room as the door slammed shut behind him. Twelve pairs of eyes watched him closely as he moved across the wooden floor to the set of stairs leading downward into the Earth. They said nothing, there wasn't anything to be said. Tears had been wasted on the dead, and words would bring no peace to the emptiness of each witch or wizard.

Pausing a moment on the stairs, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the blinding darkness. They had learned quickly that the warmth of body heat had attracted the Shadow to them; add that with the glow of any light, and you were a sitting duck. He could make out the raspy breathing of someone in the basement of what had been St. Mungo's Hospital.

"Lenna?" he questioned softly.

He could make out the bodies of three or four people, one walking around, and the others lying down on the bedrolls on the floor.

"Jonathan, have you found him?" he heard a woman question him. He knew her voice; they had known each other since school.

"No."

He heard her sniffle and grow silent.

"I'll go back out tomorrow." He made his way across the room, taking a seat on the bed that he knew belonged to his wife.

"Jonathan, I'm going to have to ask you to leave Sarah to rest. She is growing sicker as the number of days in this basement increases," Lenna stated sternly, walking towards the couple. "If you'd let me leave this damn basement to contact my father at Hogwarts, and my husband..."

"You know I can't allow that. You're the only medi-witch we have. We don't even know if Hogwarts is safe anymore. For all we know your father has joined the rest of the growing number of dead," Jonathan replied sharply.

He took in the faint glow of the medi-witch's eyes, and knew she had cast a night vision charm on herself. It had taken them three years after finishing school to learn the charm and work it properly. He had been the first to achieve the joys of night vision, Sarah joining him shortly after. They had learned the effects of the charm quickly, and knew that if the charm was used for a prolonged period of time, the user would be stuck with night and day vision permanently. It was more of a blessing then a curse for those who had been stuck in the damp basement for a prolonged period of time.

"How long have you been using the charm?"

"Three days, four hours, thirty six minutes and counting. I'll take the charm off as soon as it reaches the five day period. I know the consequences of using the charm for more than five days. I know that there is the chance of loosing my eye sight. I promise, two more days and I'll take the charm off. I won't be of any help to the survivors if I am blind. But I'm running out of supplies and I need my father's help. Just let me go to Hogwarts and talk with him. He might be able to help Sarah."

"Lenna, please, don't argue with me again."

"Then at least let me send Henderson. He won't tell anyone where we are, he won't disobey his mistress. He's a good house elf. He'll get what I need and deliver the message to my father."

"Fine!" He gave in and looked down at his now sleeping wife. "How is she?"

"No better than the last time you were down here. Jonathan, there is the possibility that she'll never come out of this. No one that meets the Shadow survives. You know that as well as I do. His toxins getting inside you and destroy your immune system. I can't do much, but I can ease their pain. Other than that, it's out of my hands."

"I won't believe that Lenna. I won't believe I've lost both my son and wife. I'll find Jacob, and Sarah will get better. You're the best person I know for the job of making her better. I'd trust you over anyone else."

"My father is the best Potions Master I know; he's brewed potions far longer and better than I. He could help us."

"He's a known Death Eater. I won't trust any Death Eater, reformed or not!"

"Fine! Then I'll have his help whether you like it or not!" Lenna turned and walked away from him.

"Bloody woman!" he cursed, and turned his attention to his wife.

Sweat coated her once tanned skin. He knew she was dying and that Lenna was correct in the fact that she was probably not going to survive much longer. There was only so much a medi-witch could do without knowing the exact cause for the disease. He blamed himself for not being able to protect her; he had always been that way.

~*~

"McCoy, Jonathan," Minerva McGonagall had called as a young eleven year old boy pushed his way through the crowd of students his age.

The sorting hat had been placed on his head, and within moment the tattered old piece of cloth had shouted out, "Ravenclaw".

Relief spread across his face as he joined the rest of his classmates at the Ravenclaw table and waited to see what house the two girls he had met on the train would be in.

"Peters, Sarah."

A young blond with rosy round cheeks made her way to the stool to have her turn at the sorting. She closed her eyes and hoped to be placed in the same house as her friends. Sarah really didn't care what house she ended up in, as long as she wasn't in Slytherin House.

"Ravenclaw!" it called, as it was removed from her head.

Skipping off to the table, she joined Jonathan with a hug, and turned their attention to the other students.

Several others had gone before they got to "Snape, Lenna!" The two sat patiently watching, as the dark haired girl, with thin lips, greasy hair and dark eyes walked slowly through the now small crowd of students. A hush had fallen around the first years. They had heard rumours of the meanest teacher at Hogwarts having the same last name. It was easy to pick out the Professor at the High Table.

There was a pause, and then silence fell upon the school as the students and teachers awaited to hear what house the young Snape would join. The Slytherin students watched patiently, hoping that their Head of House's daughter would join their house, and not Gryffindor.

"Ravenclaw!" the hat exclaimed.

She jumped down from the stool turned to look at her father, smiled slightly, and then joined the rest of her house. Several of the older students seemed disappointed that she had been sorted into their house, while others had begun to whisper about Snape treating them differently now that his daughter was in their house. Sighing, Lenna looked down at her plate.

"No wonder you refused to tell us your last name on the train." Sarah laughed.

"Not funny, Peters. You'd think that people would get to know you for who you are without judging you on who your parents are. Not my fault my father is a teacher here. Nor is it my fault that he treats every house differently than his own," Lenna grumbled, turning her attention to a fifth year prefect seated next to her.

"You think he'll treat us differently now?"

"No. He'll treat us worse. You think it's a blessing being his daughter and in Ravenclaw, think again. He's treated me different since I came to live with him. He'll always treat me different. I know him, he'll want the best from me, and since I'm in Ravenclaw, I had better not get anything lower than an Outstanding on my school work."

"You really think he'll be that hard on you?" Jonathan questioned, a concerned look on his pale face.

"I can almost count on it."

~*~

Lenna moved silently through the storage room she had created. Her hands moved over the bottles of potions and ingredients, pausing only seconds over each. The charm helped to make out large objects and check the condition of a patient, but it had never been much of a help when attempting to read the label on a bottle. She had devised her own system of categorising the potions, and her own way of reading them in the dark. Each bottle had a single symbol or number on it that was raised slightly off the label. She had read about muggles who were blind and had learned their own form of "seeing" to read. Though the term evaded her, she knew that if they could learn to use it, so could she.

Finding what she was looking for, she moved back into the ward, and over to the bed of a five year old boy. His coughing fits had grown worse over night, as had his fever. Lenna knew that he was in the final stages of the toxins and would not last much longer. It always pained her to watch someone die. She was rather grateful that there was no light in the room. She would not have to see the pleading looks for those dying.

"Miss Lenna?" the boy coughed, as he felt her weight on the bed.

"Shhh. I have something for you Isaac, you'll have to take it right away or it won't help you rest." She put up a false smile even though she knew the boy probably couldn't see it, but it helped ease her own fears.

"Mummy...where's my mummy?" he cried.

"You'll see her soon, I promise." She helped him sit up and drink the potion.

He coughed most of it back up, but at least a small portion of it would get into his system. It would only take a moment before he fell into a magic induced sleep. She hated using potions to help someone sleep, but she knew it was his only option.

Once she was sure he was asleep, she moved on to check on the next patient. Reaching out her hand, she felt the clammy cold skin. Her breath caught in her throat as she gasped and took a step away from the bed. For seven years she had dealt with the sick and dying, but she had never been able to get used to the feel of the dead body. A shiver ran down her back as she looked away from the body.

"Jonathan..." she squeaked.

"What is it?"

"Mrs. Wilson passed on. I need someone to take her body to the fire pit, please."

"Damnit!" he cursed. "I'll do it myself."

"I...I hate this!" Lenna half yelled as she moved herself through the darkened room. "I want this shadow dealt with and I want a normal life. I haven't seen sunlight in three years; I haven't felt the warmth of the wind upon my skin. I want to leave this hell!"

"Relax Lenna. We'll figure this out."

"Jonathan, you're out there doing something to help those that are still alive, and I'm stuck down here in this dungeon attempting to heal the incurable," Lenna hissed, and found another dead patient. "Might as well bring Brian with Mrs. Wilson."

"That leaves, Isaac, Sarah and Jenna alive. I'll send Steven down here to pick up Brian."

Turning from each other, both went their separate ways. Lenna went back to checking her patients, and Jonathan went to take care of the bodies. The burning would begin just a few moments before full dark. No one wanted to be caught outside near a burning fire. They had witnessed too many people fall to the shadow because of the heat and light the fire let off.

Standing back in her room, Lenna was temped to turn a small amount of light on to read. Her mind longed for the feel of a book in her hands, the look of the words upon the tanned parchment. The sweet smell of age upon the pages and the dust that fluttered up as the pages turned. Sighing, she picked up whatever book she had been holding three nights ago, again, and ran her long slender fingers over the cover. Her spell only worked for small lengths of writing, and would only give her the chance to read a paragraph or two. She would have to find another way to read without calling the shadow to her.

"Henderson!" she called as she heard the familiar pop of the house elf apparating into her room.

"What can Henderson do for Mistress Lenna?" the house elf squeaked.

"I need you to deliver a message to my father at Hogwarts. It's very important, and no one but him can receive it. Do you understand?"

"Henderson will make sure Master Severus gets Mistress Lenna's message."

"Good, I need him to come to St. Mungo's as soon as possible. Tell him to bring me anything and everything he can spare. In fact Henderson, I want you to personally show my father down here for me. I need to speak with him, and you are the only one that can get the message to him. Please hurry."

Listening for the pop, she placed the book back down on the bedside table. Sliding her legs under the blankets, she placed the wards around her room and closed her eyes. Her hope was to catch a few hours of undisturbed rest before the next person came to bother her about a potion to cure whatever aliment they might have.