"Within a Hell of godless emptiness
submit yourself ever more to sleep's spell.
All is a dream, all is nothingness:
the flower of the world is the asphodel."
― Gabriele D'Annunzio,
The cool breeze kissed Harry's skin as he sat on the floor of the astronomy tower, just thinking and thinking about the shit that was about to come... Dumbledore... politics... creatures... Death Eaters... Triwizard Tournament...Voldemort...
The thoughts made Harry slightly uneasy, as he felt something inside him become warmer and warmer, his insides burning as if there were a fire inside him that felt even hotter than the volcanic lava that he knew was ready to burst at any time...
He scratched his back and then sighed... Closing his eyes, he willed his wings to come out, and then, within a second, his shirt automatically transfigured itself to be backless, and enormous leathery black wings protruded out of Harry's skin with a crack...
Harry then sighed again, but this time in delight as he savoured the sensation of the wind caressing his extra appendages, he felt the fire within him cool slightly as he exhaled loudly... Now he could think straight, and he had so much to think about, so much to figure out... He needed a way to stop the "dark" side of the war from committing genocide and to find a way to locate Voldemort...
'Voldy really did care about my education till the sixth year' Harry mused, thinking about all the attacks on him being somehow by the end of every school year. 'It was almost nice of him...' he thought, then shivered at the notion of using nice and Voldy in the same sentence...
'Merlin's beard... I have really gone bonkers-'
' Wait! Oh, shite, he would be in that sickening, childlike form right now-' Harry grimaced, recalling the scaly figure that used to give him nightmares: pale as white chalk, snake-like face, crimson eyes, not an ounce of hair or nose, the disgusting baby-like figure being dropped into the cauldron in which Pettigrew had cut his arm... he almost gagged at the memory, though a small part of him wondered whether the recursion ritual would still function...
'I doubt that-'
Harry, though, still hated Voldy with all his heart, but the memories that Dumbbells had shown him in his sixth year kept replaying in his head...
'He was just a child... an orphan, abandoned by his own father, abused in the orphanage...' Harry reluctantly even dared to say that a small part of him even admired the man as he recalled the enchanting boy in the chamber of secrets... 'He was a master of manipulation, born to be great...'
'He did great things, terrible but great... All I do now is pity him...'
Harry fiddled with the hem of his shirt as he imagined what it must have felt like for Voldemort when he first entered the magical world—a totally new world where he must have hoped to feel at home—to feel like he belonged—to be a part of.... But Alas!
"He pleaded to our loving Headmaster not to return him back to his orphanage, but was forced to." His mother's words echoed in his head, and Harry wondered how much the headmaster had played his part in making such a protégé into a psychopath...
"The very first agendas of the Dark Lord were to safeguard the Wix children and enhance the statute of secrecy... Twenty years ago, he did great things; he was a charming man until his seventh year, when, according to the portraits, he started forgetting his own ideas and then became insane, resulting in the Slytherin magic rejecting him." that Lily had written...
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Deceptions-(Drarry)
FanfictionDuring the train journey following his third year, Harry's entire bloody world was turned upside-down. Overwhelmed by some sudden realisations and his bizarre escape from the future, he discovered that those he had believed to be his most loyal alli...
