If you haven't already read Blast from the Past, I suggest you go immediately to my profile and click on that story first. Otherwise, you are in severe danger of being very confused. For those of you who have read it, I promised you all a sequel. Keep in mind, this is just the prologue, a taste of what Lord DeMalus is getting up to for the first few days after the fall of the Dark Lord.
Prologue:
Lord DeMalus eyed the shops lining the main street in Hogsmeade. The Three Broomsticks, Zonko's, even Honeyduke's, all held a certain number of negative memories. He remembered sitting in The Three Broomsticks, forced to hide under his invisibility cloak for fear of punishment. The fools had tried to keep him from meeting his godfather. How dare they assume they had the right? Stepping into the doorway, he glanced around, remembering his first day here, when everyone had been so awed in his presence.
Yes, that's the proper reaction to such power. I didn't realize it then, but I deserve to be treated with reverence!
He paused briefly before stepping inside – a wicked smirk crossing his face as he decided on the discretion of invisibility. I doubt they'll offer me the respect I deserve. He watched as they were all totally enthralled by their newspapers. DeMalus grinned malevolently as he wondered what could possibly cause every patron to have their nose buried in a newspaper. He knew that only days ago there had been celebrations throughout the wizarding world at the news that Harry Potter had finally defeated the Dark Lord. He wondered how long it had taken for people to realize that he wasn't joining in the revelry. He could see, now, that the celebrations at the demise of Voldemort had been cut short by the special edition of the Daily Prophet.
"Look at this one," a woman near the bar said. "They don't even know what happened at the Daily Prophet office. Whoever caused it all seemed to have gone in and done it without being seen. Like they were invisible. It says here, 'the attacker seemed to target field reporters and gossip columnists first. Our own Rita Skeeter was sadly dismembered and her right eye punctured by her favorite sea green Quick-Quotes Quill.' Isn't that awful?"
DeMalus looked over the woman's shoulder to see the picture and headline that went with the article. "Skeeter Scattered!" The Daily Prophet didn't seem to have lost its touch at dealing with sensitive issues. The moving image seemed to involve a great deal of panic, but the door in the background which quickly opened and closed by itself didn't escape the attention of the shrewd green eyes. They don't even realize their 'culprit' was still there when that photo was taken, he thought. How interesting.
Quickly deciding he was bored with these patrons, DeMalus set loose a silent stream of curses. Within seconds, people were dropping their silverware and mugs as all the utensils became red-hot. Madame Rosmerta, the familiar bartender who had been serving Butterbeers to the students of Hogwarts for countless years, never saw the scalding hot pot of coffee that was levitating over her head. After the dark liquid burned and bubbled through the skin on her face and neck, the pot took on a life of its own; crashing into her face and shattering – fresh cuts adorning the blistering burns.
These events almost seemed like school pranks taken too far, but that idea was quickly dispelled as the swirling energy in the bar gathered together and began raining hot coals on those who hadn't managed to escape. No one ever saw the door open and close as the dark-haired man slipped out and locked his victims inside.
~*~*~
Honeyduke's. There were vague flashes of memory, happier times when three young friends enjoyed the plethora of sweet creations that came from this shop. It had long been a favorite of the Hogwarts students, those third years and up clamoring to grab the best of the best on each of their Hogsmeade visits, stocking up on chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties, debating over ice mice and blood pops. Those days were long gone. DeMalus thought a moment, remembering the times he'd been forced to sneak in, the days when the hidden passage in the basement was his only way of escaping Dumbledore's prison walls. He thought back on the day that he and Cho Chang had come to Hogsmeade together. What a disaster.
Cho. Stupid, insipid girl never knew what the hell she wanted anyway. I should add her to my list, pay her a little visit and see if I can make some things clear for her.
He remembered a time when he was faced with some of the Slytherins while trying to buy some sweets. The harassment was uncalled for, but the owner of Honeydukes didn't even try to stop them. He thought back to the day in October when he had found himself faced with the chore of following Hermione and Ron around the village because he couldn't be honest about his budding friendship with Draco.
Draco. Just the thought of him hurt. No, it was more than pain; it was an unspeakable hollowness, like a black hole had opened in his heart and it left him feeling more empty and alone than before. Drawing on his ever-present connection with the Furies, DeMalus felt the now familiar anger, hate and vengeance filling that empty space, spreading through him like ice water in his veins.
They should all pay. They kept me from him. I could have had so much more time with him if they hadn't been such stubborn, unyielding, uncaring bastards! He and I should never have been made to deal with obstacles of that nature. We were above that. Together, we were above it all.
He decided at that moment that everyone was in part responsible for the limits placed on him and his soul mate. Sensing the owner in the storeroom below, and looking at the myriad of patrons throughout the store; he felt it was only fair that they all pay for the injustices metered out to him and his soul mate. He glanced around the room, moving swiftly through the crowd and thankful he had decided to inoculas himself for this visit. It wouldn't do to be recognized just yet, so the invisibility was once again proving itself useful. As he passed various individuals, he bequeathed them with random hexes and curses, using everything from a simple itching hex, to silencing spells which left their recipients gaping in shock, to the occasional blood boiling curse. By the time his few stronger curses made their effects noticed, he had thrown in some new ones on the confused bystanders. The murmurs, confused comments, pained yells and sudden screeches from the customers finally brought the owner out of the storeroom. Those still conscious cringed as they watched in fascinated horror as the store owner's skin was stripped from his body with one quick wave of an invisible hand. The pandemonium was music to his ears as he left the shop and started the trek out of Hogsmeade. It was time to end it all now, and there was only one place for the perfect ending. He had to go back to the place where it all began, back to the place he had once called home.
~*~*~
Thick, acrid smoke filled the air, obscuring the view of the once peaceful lake with its surrounding trees. Flames surrounded the oval expanse of grass where thousands upon thousands of excited school children had watched countless Quidditch matches dating back to the time of the founders.
Across the grounds, a very old and tired Headmaster sighed in resignation.
"Albus?"
He turned, pleased to see his Deputy Headmistress entering the office. He knew what was to come and he couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather spend this time with. "Come in Minerva, please. Lemon drop?"
She smiled quickly, but declined the familiar sweet. She sensed that something was drastically wrong. Before she could speak of it, however, an alarm went off in the office. Albus walked across the circular room, stepping into an alcove that Minerva knew she'd never seen before. In this small alcove, (specially charmed to stay hidden until needed) Albus had an intricate system of monitors and alarms, special magical charms that allowed him to easily keep track of each and every person on the grounds, and notified him whenever someone was placed in Mortal Peril or worse. It worked in a similar manner to the popular wizarding clocks that many larger families relied on, but with many accommodations for the extremely large number of people on the Hogwarts grounds at any given time.
The alarms were currently notifying him that there were a number of Hufflepuffs trapped by a fire at the Quidditch pitch, two Ravenclaws appeared to be in some unknown peril near the greenhouse and there was no evidence that the carnage would be letting up any time soon.
"Albus?" she questioned again. "What is it?"
"The school is under attack, Minerva."
"But Voldemort's been defeated! Are the Death Eaters following someone new? How could they have gotten through the wards?"
Dumbledore's knowing gaze showed much more than he would ever reveal to her verbally. "It's not the Death Eaters. He gained access to the school because the wards recognize him. I suspect there are a great many victims planned, but I believe I'm the primary target. I won't survive the attack, Minerva. I've foreseen it. Somehow, deep inside, I've known for years that this day would come. You'll have a hard time ahead of you, taking over the school, especially in such troubled times." A sense of urgency entered his voice as he knew his remaining time was running out. "You'll need to be strong, gather the faculty to present a united front to the remaining students. If they see confidence in you, they'll be better prepared to follow your lead and face the hard times to come."
"Albus, what do you know that you aren't letting on?"
"Nothing to concern yourself with. You can't change it. The only thing to do is react, and hope that the ones who have the power to change this will eventually realize that power."
"Eventually? But then it will be too late."
"Not from where they are. Don't worry, Minerva. They still have time."
"But how?"
Dumbledore looked at her, a faint smile showing above his beard, a sad twinkle in his weathered blue eyes, and nodded gravely. "Trust me on this one. The time stream will straighten itself out. They still have time."
These were the last words he would ever speak. The twinkle faded, as did the smile, just before his beard started smoldering and he felt his blood begin to boil. Minerva watched in horror as her long time friend grimaced in pain, blisters forming on his skin, strangled, guttural sounds coming from his tortured throat. She had no time to react, however. Before she could speak, or move, the door of the circular office flew open. She turned, wand immediately in hand, hoping to identify the source of this torture.
"Show yourself, you coward."
"If you insist," came a disembodied voice. She searched her memory, trying to place that voice, knowing that she should recognize it. When the tousled dark hair and familiar face finally appeared in front of her, she could tell by his eyes why the voice sounded different.
Harry Potter, the child she had known for years was a grown man. A broken man. A dark and changed man. There was a sorrow and an anger never before seen in his eyes. The nonchalant stance barely hid the arrogant confidence in the way he walked towards her. She noticed the darkness in his aura and paled at the significance of it. It contained a dark intent that she had hoped he would never possess. Indeed, it was exactly what she had feared – what they had all feared.
"Yes, it is," he said, reminding her of his mind-reading abilities. The malevolent grin that graced his face showed little of the innocence and trust he had once shown. "And you were right to fear it, Minnie." He raised his hand and Minerva knew that her final role in this lifetime had arrived.
Minerva closed her eyes, expecting to see her life flash past, only to come to the realization of Albus' final cryptic words. She knew who it was that had the power to change this… time. It's only been two days since they went back. They have all the time in the world. Let's hope to Merlin they can solve this. Closing her eyes, Minerva faced the inevitable with her usual stoicism. After all, if they fix the time stream, this will never happen.
~TBC
Chapter One will (hopefully) follow soon. I will be starting Graduate School in two weeks and that will make for an extremely busy schedule, but I'm still hoping to update once or twice a month. Please click that little blue-ish-purple-y button and let me know what you think!