Prologue
Everything had become dark.
Night could not be differentiated from day, and all the candles in the world could not illuminate the sky. They had predicted that his power would not spread beyond England, but it did. The whole world now lay at his feet, but the war was still raging.
The Order had fewer numbers compared to his armies of death eaters, but they still had hope, though they watched that speck of brightness in their world disappearing as well. Most called them foolish, others called them mad, but it all came down to one fact: most had fallen to Voldemort not because their sheer shortage in numbers, but because they had long ago given in.
Prostitutes, murderers, rapists, and every criminal or low life imaginable now roamed freely on the streets. There was no safety. Too many left home in the morning and never came back. Locks were of no use and the forbidden curses were always used and heard everywhere. If not a servant of the Dark Lord, one could easily become the target of a bored Death Eater. People disappeared in the middle of the night, most never to be seen again. Even the Muggles knew about the war, probably because their population had gone down drastically.
No one bothered meeting others, for why try to bond when the person could die the next day? Love was gone. There were no young couples strolling in the parks sharing intimate glances, nor were there elderly couples enjoying the twilight years of their life together. Too much sadness had passed to allow such joy in their world. Each day passed in fear and tragedy. Women and children hid at home too frightened to leave the protection of their home. Every hour that passed, family members worried for the lives of loved ones, dreading to hear the body count and the name of each corpse being announced. Yet they chose fear and cowardice over fighting boldly, which was possibly why at the closing of Hogwarts, so few were in Gryffindor.
In this dark and desolate world, she lived. She had once been carefree, innocent, naïve. She had once smiled, laughed, cried. But now, emotion seemed foreign. With each day, their cause seemed less and less believable, and the call of the dark became more and more appealing. Their goal seemed impossible, unreachable, so much that it had become a distant memory. Possibly the only reason they carried on was not because of the tiny glimmer of hope, but because of routine. They had been fighting for ten years; why stop now, when everything was so familiar?
At the beginning of the war, she had been an optimist and a romantic, believing the very idea of fighting for the righteous was glorious. She soon realised her foolishness. There was nothing beautiful or poetic about war. Each day she saw crying women and men kneeling at the battle grounds, searching for loved ones who had not survived. Each day, she would watch those grieving people slowly take a step towards insanity. Each day, she saw her group of friends slowly diminish. Some of these friends were not dead, instead they had turned to Voldemort. Not only her friends, but everyone’s friends and family did the same. She stood and watched families breaking apart, old friends fighting each other, the world completely broken. Her family had changed as well. Her many brothers who had once joked and laughed had now turned into walking zombies. Once their eyes had been bright and filled with life, but now they were empty and dead.
The war had pitted each person against a familiar face. She was no exception. War had done so with her and her love as well.
Yet, even with all this chaos and madness swirling around her, she chose light over darkness. She hadn’t let her faith sway even when worlds came crashing down on her. Pain and desperation had only made her stronger, and did not break her. It hadn’t always been like that though. At the time she was still studying at Hogwarts, when the war had just started, she had nearly given in. If not for the strength of her family, she might have collapsed. It was not because she believed in the Dark Lord, but because he departed for the other side. Now he was darkness, and she was light. They were enemies now, in the truest meaning of the word.
***
On the other side of the country, he sat. His manor was dark but grand. It was empty except for the occasional nervous Death Eater who reported to him. Ten years had passed, and he had worked hard to reach the status he held now. The most trusted servant of the Dark Lord and second-in-command. He had established a reputation for being heartless and cold, able to inflict pain and take away lives without blinking an eye. At his hands, hundreds of both Death Eaters and Order members were killed. Some feared him even more than they feared Voldemort himself. The reason was simple. Voldemort actually showed rage while he, on the other hand, always wore a blank and cold expression. No one knew when he was furious or tranquil, his emotions were never present.
Hardly anyone knew about his years before he joined the Death Eaters. Some whispered that he had eliminated all who had known him when he was younger, others said that his past concealed a secret too great to let out. Gossip was usually nonsense, but in this case, it proved to be true.
Years had passed since he had last saw her, but he had not forgotten the flaming red hair, or his burning hate for her. She had betrayed him. He had revealed all his secrets, bared his heart, but she had walked away. Just the very thought of her made his usual cold blood boil.
Unbeknownst to either, fate had indeed a sense of twisted humour. In these dark times, two long ago lovers would meet again, and here begins their story.
Everything had become dark.
Night could not be differentiated from day, and all the candles in the world could not illuminate the sky. They had predicted that his power would not spread beyond England, but it did. The whole world now lay at his feet, but the war was still raging.
The Order had fewer numbers compared to his armies of death eaters, but they still had hope, though they watched that speck of brightness in their world disappearing as well. Most called them foolish, others called them mad, but it all came down to one fact: most had fallen to Voldemort not because their sheer shortage in numbers, but because they had long ago given in.
Prostitutes, murderers, rapists, and every criminal or low life imaginable now roamed freely on the streets. There was no safety. Too many left home in the morning and never came back. Locks were of no use and the forbidden curses were always used and heard everywhere. If not a servant of the Dark Lord, one could easily become the target of a bored Death Eater. People disappeared in the middle of the night, most never to be seen again. Even the Muggles knew about the war, probably because their population had gone down drastically.
No one bothered meeting others, for why try to bond when the person could die the next day? Love was gone. There were no young couples strolling in the parks sharing intimate glances, nor were there elderly couples enjoying the twilight years of their life together. Too much sadness had passed to allow such joy in their world. Each day passed in fear and tragedy. Women and children hid at home too frightened to leave the protection of their home. Every hour that passed, family members worried for the lives of loved ones, dreading to hear the body count and the name of each corpse being announced. Yet they chose fear and cowardice over fighting boldly, which was possibly why at the closing of Hogwarts, so few were in Gryffindor.
In this dark and desolate world, she lived. She had once been carefree, innocent, naïve. She had once smiled, laughed, cried. But now, emotion seemed foreign. With each day, their cause seemed less and less believable, and the call of the dark became more and more appealing. Their goal seemed impossible, unreachable, so much that it had become a distant memory. Possibly the only reason they carried on was not because of the tiny glimmer of hope, but because of routine. They had been fighting for ten years; why stop now, when everything was so familiar?
At the beginning of the war, she had been an optimist and a romantic, believing the very idea of fighting for the righteous was glorious. She soon realised her foolishness. There was nothing beautiful or poetic about war. Each day she saw crying women and men kneeling at the battle grounds, searching for loved ones who had not survived. Each day, she would watch those grieving people slowly take a step towards insanity. Each day, she saw her group of friends slowly diminish. Some of these friends were not dead, instead they had turned to Voldemort. Not only her friends, but everyone’s friends and family did the same. She stood and watched families breaking apart, old friends fighting each other, the world completely broken. Her family had changed as well. Her many brothers who had once joked and laughed had now turned into walking zombies. Once their eyes had been bright and filled with life, but now they were empty and dead.
The war had pitted each person against a familiar face. She was no exception. War had done so with her and her love as well.
Yet, even with all this chaos and madness swirling around her, she chose light over darkness. She hadn’t let her faith sway even when worlds came crashing down on her. Pain and desperation had only made her stronger, and did not break her. It hadn’t always been like that though. At the time she was still studying at Hogwarts, when the war had just started, she had nearly given in. If not for the strength of her family, she might have collapsed. It was not because she believed in the Dark Lord, but because he departed for the other side. Now he was darkness, and she was light. They were enemies now, in the truest meaning of the word.
***
On the other side of the country, he sat. His manor was dark but grand. It was empty except for the occasional nervous Death Eater who reported to him. Ten years had passed, and he had worked hard to reach the status he held now. The most trusted servant of the Dark Lord and second-in-command. He had established a reputation for being heartless and cold, able to inflict pain and take away lives without blinking an eye. At his hands, hundreds of both Death Eaters and Order members were killed. Some feared him even more than they feared Voldemort himself. The reason was simple. Voldemort actually showed rage while he, on the other hand, always wore a blank and cold expression. No one knew when he was furious or tranquil, his emotions were never present.
Hardly anyone knew about his years before he joined the Death Eaters. Some whispered that he had eliminated all who had known him when he was younger, others said that his past concealed a secret too great to let out. Gossip was usually nonsense, but in this case, it proved to be true.
Years had passed since he had last saw her, but he had not forgotten the flaming red hair, or his burning hate for her. She had betrayed him. He had revealed all his secrets, bared his heart, but she had walked away. Just the very thought of her made his usual cold blood boil.
Unbeknownst to either, fate had indeed a sense of twisted humour. In these dark times, two long ago lovers would meet again, and here begins their story.
Leave a Review