If it is Willed

If it is Willed - - Prologue

Strengthen the heart...

Strengthen it with loss.

Screaming...black, a shroud of angry and revengeful darkness. Confusion feeding on utter chaos. Fear, furious fear awakening inside. Human sacrifice, willing sacrifice of a father to save his daughter, his only daughter and child. Bonds of love and hope do not die with him. They shall hold and protect through all else and remind. But...the terror, the tears of pained, lost souls. They may yet triumph, find peace, if it is willed.

The trees of the Forbidden Forest loomed and whispered gently as they danced on the breeze with a mournful grace. He has come... they murmured to each other, hope and fear threaded into the words. Hope and fear. Both resided currently in a dark halls of Hogwarts. And though the school was closed to students during these summers months, one had remained. The one the trees whispered of...

She awoke with a start, a scream tearing viciously from her throat, sweat and tears mixing to form droplets of misery on her face. Sobs racked her body in the quiet of the night, yet no one came to disturb the dead place, no one heard her scream. Gone, she thought, they're gone...dead. She cried herself back to sleep, unaware of the spiders that lurked hungrily in the corners. Her ears did not pick up the mutterings of rats fighting over crumbs, nor her nose the smell of old, vengeful blood and desperate tears.

He awoke, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling in shock and wonder. Hermione? Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, jumped out of his bed and dashed wildly out of the common room, arms flailing in a windmill effect as he raced down the corridor. The fat lady grumbled at him groggily, but Harry took no notice as he searched ahead in the hallways for the familiar gargoyle statue. His scar was burning steadily on his forehead, but he kept running, not liking the happy sensation that was making his body go numb with fear. Voldemort was extremely pleased.

Harry reached the gargoyle and yelled hoarsely at it, "Cotton Candy Swirl!" The stone statue leapt aside and Harry entered, the sight of three very worried professors greeting his already concern-filled eyes.

"Professor," Harry blurted out to Dumbledore, who was standing behind his desk in front of Snape and McGonagall. "Hermione wa--" Dumbledore raised a hand, stopping Harry mid-sentence. He looked at Harry for a moment through his half moon spectacles with periwinkle eyes which were not twinkling like stars as they usually did.

"We know Harry, that Hermione has been taken. The deaths of her parents were discovered not long ago when Severus was told by Lord Voldemort how much 'fun' the Death Eaters had with the Grangers." He studied Harry for a moment more. Harry looked back at him, straight in the eyes. Sirius was taken from me...and now Hermione is... He found it hard to believe that he had witnessed their actual deaths, and that Voldemort hadn't showed him something false, as he had done with Sirius. It was then that his gaze strayed towards Snape. Snape the spy, the Death Eater; how quaint that he should bring this news. The fifteen year old student stared at his potions master. He probably betrayed her and didn't even try to save her family...he hates Mudbloods.

Harry was considering lunging at Snape and asking him very rudely if he had killed Hermione's family, but the sudden appearance of a purple hued arm chair caught him by surprise. Harry fell onto it, without much grace, feeling wary and troubled.

"Please," said Dumbledore quietly as if reading Harry's mind, "have a seat, and do not jump to conclusions, my dear boy. You should hear the whole story." Harry remained sitting in the armchair, viewing Snape with expectancy.

A cool hand traced the smooth features of her face roughly, though just barely. She didn't enjoy the caress. It was not full of love or even care, but penetrated her mind, full of lust, power, and hatred. It bit and stung at her flesh but she made no move as it traced across her closed eyelids. She was paralyzed, helpless as a great feeling of sadness and hopelessness spread throughout her body. Her limbs were heavy, and though her eyes were closed, she could almost see this hateful being which reeked of demise. She shuddered slightly, her breath ragged as it tore the air in desperation. She opened her eyes, the deep brown ones of her own meeting first a pair of cunning ebony ones, just visible below a messy curtain of greasy black hair. Her eyes widened more in shock, then strayed to another set of glowing ones. They pulled her in, the evil emotions in their depths swimming round and round in crimson waves. She felt her heart pounding in her chest, pulsating with the same rhythm of hate as is only found in the abyss of hell.

A scream echoed, crashing and gnawing away at hope...