Disclaimer: How ever much I wish I could have came up with the brilliant idea of Harry Potter, I didn’t. So it still belongs to Jo. I’m only taking the characters out from her head for a little walk through mine.
Rain poured from the cloud covered black sky, wind whistled through the air. The darkness of the night combined with the heavy rain made it near impossible to see even three feet in front of you, except when lightning lit the earth for half a second.
As a brilliant flash of lightning rippled through the clouds the figure of a man was visible standing in a field of wheat that rose to his waist. But nobody saw the man, even as the lighting reveled him, he was only a mile away from a small village, but the rain had driven everybody inside.
The figure walked purposely through the field, seemingly unbothered by the darkness or the rain. Walking at a swift pace he soon had entered the village of Hogsmead. Now only one shop was open, one that stood in the middle of the town. Many of the houses had boarded up windows and doors, but a few people still lived here and their, desperate to cling to the life they had once known.
The man soon exited the town, walking up a hill along a road that had not been traveled in over a year. As lightning flashed again a ruined castle was visible on the road ahead. When the man reached the gates to the gates which was now locked with only a muggle padlock he pulled out a thin piece of wood and tapped the lock, it sprung open and the gates swung forward. He put the piece of wood back in his pocket and walked up towards the castle.
Up towards the castle, his feet noiseless on the muddy, brown, grass. Up past an area where a hut once stood, past the over flowing lake, past the castle. Though he stopped too touch the door that hung off the hinges.
He walked into the fields on the other side of the castle until he reached a lonely tombstone. Stood at the foot of a grave and let the tears run down his face as he remembered his lost friend.
Now the man was standing still the wind struck him more fiercely, blowing the long cloak against his body and stinging his eyes. As he stood their, a blast of wind blew his hood back. Another flash of lightning showed his face in detail.
His face was thin and hard, his black hair clung to his head, his mouth thin and neither smiling nor frowning, his eyes were green pools of sadness, and a lightning bolt shaped scar was visible through his soaking hair.
This man was without a doubt Harry Potter. The man who had killed Voldemort 7 years ago. Though he no longer wore glasses and did not look a lot like the teenager who had once went to the school that now stood deserted behind him, almost any wizard would recognize him.
Harry pulled a book out from his pocket, a book he had enchanted so no rain, wind, or sun could destroy it, he also pulled out a bundle of flowers. He set the book down by the headstone as well as the roses before stepping back and whispering, “I’m sorry, Hermione. It is my fault you died…i’m sorry”
He sat down on the muddy ground looking at the sky. As he did he slowly fell asleep, though he was not asleep at the same time. He relaxed and his mind slowed until he wasn’t thinking about anything.
As he sat their in his dream-trance he relived the worst and the best night of his life....
Excerpt from Chapter 1:“Look-y what we have here, a wandless Potter,” Draco laughed pointing his wand right at Harry’s chest and putting a foot on him so he could not get up.