If I Was

If I Was

~Prologue~

They met on the battlefield.

One can imagine that it was a dark and stormy night. The sky black, and the thick, wet sound of rain hitting the ground. There were, of course, thousands battling around them, but they saw nothing but each other.

Wands raised, and the killing curse laying in wait.

Then, as bodies fell, as the rain became heavier, and the sky blackened into a deep shade of midnight, an unearthly light surrounded them.

Blinding them.

It's told in many different ways, from many different people, but no one is completely sure of what occurred. Green met with grey. Flashes of smooth, pale flesh and sun-kissed skin wrapped round and round, twisting, binding, joining for the last time. Some shouted that they saw flashing eyes, filled with hate before the light overtook them. Others whispered softly that it hadn't been hate, but love.

But no one knows the real story.

The survivor's spoke not a breath of that day, for the true story was too raw, and they were too guilt ridden. And so, like many tales of days gone, it faded as years passed by quickly, and became a bedtime story for young children.

"Sir Harry fell to the ground, his hand wrapped around the evil Lord Draco's wrist, where he held a once immaculate wand, now broken and charred. The people were filled with sadness and joy, for they'd gained back their world, but lost the one who'd saved them all."

The child looked up at his mother, and frowned. "But if he was so brave, why'd he end up dying?" His nose scrunched in confusion. "I mean, the hero always wins in the end! That's how stories are s'posed to go!"

She smiled softly, and pushed a lock of red hair from his forehead. "There are different kinds of heros, Ronald Weasley, many different kinds. And Sir Harry was the best kind."

He huffed, and rubbed drooping eyelids,"You didn't even tell it right, anyways."

"Well," she crossed her own arms, and leaned against a bedpost. "Then I supposed you'll just have to tell me how it really happened."

He blinked, yawning. "Okay, mommy," He rubbed his eyes again, and opened his mouth only to feel his head drop against the pillow and his arms fall onto the soft, gold afghan. "It all started in Madam Malkin's Robe Shop, where Sir Harry was getting his very first robe for his very first year at Hogwart's School of..." His mouth opened wide as he yawned, "...of Witchcraft and Wizardy...."

His voice trailed off, and his mother stared down at him, watching his little chest rise and fall with each breath. She shook her head and smiled before switching off the light and leaving the room.

And so he slept, dreaming of witches and wizards, of Sir Harry and Lord Draco as he lay safe and warm, tucked into his bed.

But all was not as it seemed, as other children, very much like Ronald Weasley, lay seemingly safe and warm in their own beds. For something was waking beneath the world that Harry Potter had given his life and love for. Something dark and evil, something that hadn't seen the light of day in many, many years.

The side of light wasn't surprised. They'd foreseen it and had prepared since the dark had fallen to the light of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

And so, many hours after Ronald Weasley and other young children were tucked safely away in their homes, two cries echoed in unison.

In a small town, far, far away from the wizarding world, two children were born.

One with a gleaming, grey gaze.

The other a deep, emerald green.