Before there was Hope
“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.” Khalil Gibran
Surrey, England
Petunia Evans, now Dursley, finds herself run down with yet another migraine. People always assumed the worst about Petunia, often listening to the horrid nonsense from her husband, they never took the time to get to know her. Hell, they hardly ever spoke to her, how could she be so naive that they would know her? Oh well, that’s a problem for a different day, today seems to have its own problem. Petunia prides herself on how, after all these years, migraine or not, she has continued with her journaling. It is an essential part of her daily routine, for her to miss even a day, then those around her would know something was terribly wrong. It is in the middle of journaling that something starts to shift. There’s something that’s started to bother her more and more since that Hallows Eve night and now maybe she has the start of what very well could be the answers to her questions. After taking some paracetamol Petunia trudges up the dusty stairs of the attic. In a corner covered under a layer of dust, she finds what she was looking for. In a box tucked away lies all her journals. Her husband thought she burned them when she was done, but for whatever reason she never could quite bring herself to. Carefully, she takes out a journal she never imagined she would open again, the date on the first page is dated January 15, 1971, with a pounding heart Petunia climbed out of the attic and into the kitchen. Sitting at the table, with her saucer of tea nearby, she starts to read.
In a cupboard under the stairs lays a boy. A boy who didn’t know his name until he was five. According to his uncle, his name was Freak, because Freak didn’t deserve a name. No, he didn’t know his name until he was sent to school, Harry Potter, that was his name. Ever since he found out what his name was something felt off, but he could never figure out what it was. Harry knew he was different than other kids and thought this was why his uncle hated him. Harry enjoys routines and soft things, he doesn’t like rough clothes, or loud noises or voices. There are other things that Harry either likes or doesn’t like, but Harry doesn’t like talking about them. Harry sometimes doesn’t even like talking. Sometimes, when Harry was feeling anxious and tingly, things would happen. If Harry was able to say what he thought it was, he knew without a doubt, he would suffer for it. No, his uncle didn’t like anything he declared “freakish”. One day, when he was laying in his cupboard, he could feel the tingling sensation building, but this time it was different, this time instead of panic, the tingles felt comforting and was that a tiny sliver of something else? If only he knew what it was.
Vernon Dursley prided himself on where he was at in his life. He had the perfect marriage, a perfect child, the most picture perfect house-according to the neighbors, and a perfect job. Life couldn’t be better. Vernon had just left the house and was on his way to work when he started thinking. The only flaw he could come up with in his life at this moment was that worthless freak. His nephew, not that he would ever call him that. He remembers, how years ago, a very old, strange looking man approached him on his way to his car after work. He had told Petunia he had to stay late that evening. It took four hours for them to come up with the most ludicrous of plans, and true to his word, he hasn’t seen that strange freak in all these years. Vernon had started to think up his own plan, a plan that would get him what he wanted and rid of everything he didn’t. He smiled to himself as he pulled into work, hopefully Petunia wouldn’t find out, but tonight he’d put his own plan into place.
Azkaban Prison, North Sea
In a small, cold, slimy cell sits in the shadows an emaciated man. Rocking back and forth, muttering to himself, how had it all come to this? One day he had been free, talking, joking, laughing with his friends and the next he finds himself in prison. Wait, friends? Prison? What the hell happened? Why is his memory so spotty? What in the name of Merlin was happening to him? One thing most don’t know is that Azkaban had its own effects on magic, even the dementors were a unique form of magic. If you were brought to Azkaban under any influence of foreign magic or potions, the magic inside of Azkaban essentially cleared them from your system. It was how he came to find out that his cell mate was innocent, he came to from the effects of the imperius curse. It was also how he found out that his cousin was not as insane as everyone thought she was. What in the blazes was going on? While alternating back and forth from his animagus form, trying to help calm himself and clear his mind, he started to meditate. While meditating, a small spark of new magic washed over him. Magic that shouldn’t be able to reach him inside of Azkaban. But this magic didn’t feel like bad magic, no this magic brought a feeling of comfort and a small feeling of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Diving deeper into a state of peace while meditating, his cell mate saw him do something no one has been said to do inside the walls of Azkaban. Sirius Black had a smile on his face for the first time in a very, very long time.
Spinner’s End, Cokeworth
Severus Snape stomped through his floo. There were a lot of things Severus has come to regret in his life, some far greater than others, but tonight there was one regret that overshadowed all the others. It has been ten years. Ten long, lonely, miserable years. Tonight just had to be a reminder of just how fucked up his life was. Albus bloody Dumbledore decided tonight to remind him of what he was expecting starting next year. Why he felt he needed to do that now, almost a full year ahead of time, was beyond him. How could he possibly forget? He lived with the ache of regret at the crass choice of words that ended his greatest friendship, the regret of joining a cause he felt was just, only to find it run by a seemingly mad man, the regret of how one choice changed forever his friend’s life and everyone else’s in the wixen world. What was he going to do now? Deep inside him he felt something shift, being a master occlumens meant he could feel if there was something wrong or off in his magic, so he slipped into a meditative state. Deep inside his mindscape, he started searching for what he felt shift, after what seemed like ages, he found it. Buried in the back of what he called his library, Severus found a stack of books, books that didn’t belong. These books not only didn’t belong, they felt wrong too. Severus knew he had to be cautious, one wrong move and he could cause catastrophic damage, slowly he began trying to remove the foul books from his mind. Growing more and more exhausted Severus took a step back, noticing he barely made any change he decided to cease his efforts for now. As he drifted out of meditation, he began his way into his room and into bed, drifting off to sleep he vowed to himself, and his best friend, that he would work at this over the next year. If nothing else, he’d go to Gringotts, they would know what to do if he couldn’t. Just before falling into deep sleep Severus felt a wave of magic. Not knowing what it was, but feeling comfort he hadn’t felt in over a decade, left him with a small smile on his face, though he would swear it never happened.
The one thing that everyone wanted to know, but didn’t have an answer for, was what exactly was that magic? And for one boy he didn’t even know it was magic, he just knew whatever it was, it felt so nice he didn’t want to let it go. If only he knew how drastically that one day would change everything.