The Shadows of His Past

The Ministry is in chaos- danger, death, & doomed romance all ensue with the advent of Voldemort. What will happen next to the unfortunate students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy? There's lots of angst and drama in the later chapters.

His eyes skimmed over the Death Notices and silently cursed the turmoil that everything was in. This was all Voldemort; Voldemort ruined their lives, and mine too, he thought furiously, rubbing his eyes. In his head, he heard Hagrid’s voice describing Voldemort to him, “Gulpin’ gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Anyway, this-this wizard about twenty years ago started lookin’ fer followers. Got ’em too- some were afraid, some jus’ wanted a bit o’ his power. Dark days, Harry. Didn’t know who ter trust…terrible things happened. He was takin’ over…” And now those days have returned, Harry thought miserably as another glittering picture of the Dark Mark reflected off of his round glasses. And he’s after me.

Chapter 3: The Ministry is in chaos- danger, death, and doomed romance all ensue with the advent of Voldemort. What will happen next to the unfortunate students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy? Things have returned to the way they were before- except for one thing...The clouds are heavy and a storm is approaching... There's lots of angst and drama in the later chapters. Remember the now golden rule: "If you read...REVIEW!" (ok, maybe it's not golden, but it should be!)

Chapter 4: The students stood close together in the suffocating closeness of the dark, shivering from the sudden cold that crept up their robes, as each student was swallowed up by his or her own fears and insecurities. They searched their pockets- anything to banish the smothering velvet that surrounded them and to reveal what was crouching in the darkness and was capable of such an unearthly scream. Or causing it.

Chapter 5: Dumbledore smiled at Harry and for a moment he personified Hogwarts itself. And in an instant the glamour, the power- was gone and he was just a tired old man. He sighed, “You should get back to Divination.”

Chapter 6: On the edge, lining the grounds in singed gold was the Forbidden Forest. It loomed past the lake and the Quidditch field, casting an ominous shadow on Hagrid’s hut, and giving a sense of the true, hidden mysteries of the Hogwarts grounds. While it struck fear into any unlucky first year fulfilling a detention, each brilliant leaf, ranging from a harsh golden to a deep vermilion, offered to her the comfort of a roaring fire or a peaceful moment curled up in bed. It was as though a tornado had swept through the meticulously ordered library of Hermione Granger. Harry, she thought, how can you stride into Potions every day with a smile on your face, knowing that the most dangerous and powerful wizard is after your blood?

“Sometimes people just let their feelings sit there and in the end, they’ve waited too long. And whatever there might have been is just…gone. It’s an opportunity- lost.” Harry stopped and turned around- he wasn‘t sure how this was related to Hermione. Ginny looked at him eye to eye, without blushing for the first time.

It was early evening, but the gloom that pervaded her overcast surroundings made it appear as if it were later. Hermione went there- to that coven in the forest, although she had no idea why. The very atmosphere felt corrupted by her dream. Seconds ticked by as she strained to catch the last memory. Despite her, it fluttered away into the recesses of her subconscious mind, where it would stay until she went quietly insane in her sleep again. It was all a blur, memory after memory of the other night flashed by, leaving a lingering feeling of confusion and doubt.

His master. He hated the way the words made him feel; weak- subservient to someone who was just as human as he. ‘…You're the pathetic one, you‘ve got everything and Harry still manages to beat you every single time…’ and at the look Hermione gave him... How odd that her words should have struck him more than the frequent reprimands of his father. ‘How could you let a Mudblood beat you in every class and a half-blood on the Quidditch field?’ Had he known what a record sounded like, let alone a broken one, he might have compared her mocking voice to one, but to him it was merely annoying. ‘…Harry still manages to beat you every time…’ If I’m a Death Eater, I’ll never be able to beat Potter. And beating Potter was so important.

Vague ideas somersaulted through Albus Dumbledore's mind, forming a tangle that only a Pensieve could undo. One idea surfaced and emblazoned itself over all of his other thoughts, Time is running out. The storm approached slowly, biding its time in the distant horizon, But it will be here soon. Dumbledore looked out and saw little hope; the lightening was swift and fearful and did little to illuminate the bleak scenery. As he stood there, elucidated by the brief flashes, perhaps even Voldemort might have seen the mastery in his gaze; however, to the staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he was just a tired, old man, watching his dreams- and all his hope, fall to ruin.

Thoughts of Draco were a pestilence; they soured her thoughts and embittered her spirits. Last year, she could always see another reason to smile. All she needed was a carefree grin and a shock of freckles to pull her out of her pensive reverie. And she was glad that she had that for a best friend. For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to be happy for no reason. In her opinion, she had precious little to be happy about.

Potter was a dead man. Did it matter if he died a year later? Because prolonging the inevitable was only a perverse form of self-denial. Snape had made enough excuses.

That was how it ended.