Corty
Sneaking in, stealing your socks.
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Well, I rarely do this, but here we go. To not write out the whole shtick, I copied my AN from under my book:
I am thinking of giving a go at a Harry Potter fanfic because why not. Here is the summary of what I have in mind:
Also, here is the first and only written chapter to give you a taste of it:
Thanks for anyone for the feedback in advance.
I am thinking of giving a go at a Harry Potter fanfic because why not. Here is the summary of what I have in mind:
- Alternate timeline. I never wrote fanfic before, and I don't want to be bogged down by lore or canon stuff. I want to give it my own twist with my own ideas and style, so I felt this was the best approach. Plus, my whole idea builds on this fact.
- By alternate timeline, I mean that Voldemort killed Harry as a baby. Yep, he won.
- With no Harry and Voldy never losing his body, he won the wizarding war, now ruling the ministry.
- Of course, a battle is still going on in the background, but that is not important until much later. IF I ever get that far.
- The story would take place at the turn of the millennia, somewhat close to the original books' timeline but greatly altered.
- Being an altered history, not many book characters would return. Simply by the the premise of the whole story, I am going for.
- There is no transmigration, no isekai tropes, no reincarnation, no knowledge of in-lore events, none of that. The character would be in-universe, born into it naturally.
- He would start out as a kid, 11 years old, going to school for the first time. The first part of the story would very much so a slice-of-life story. Kinda.
- I would take the approach of "writer's freedom" and alter some characters who do return from the books to my taste to fit the story I want to tell. Of course, for major figures, Voldemort and Dumbledore, I would try and stay true to their original designs as much as possible. The only alterations would be what I would deem necessary as to how differently the story is playing out.
- It would be my first foray into writing something in a 1st person POV.
- Because of that, it would also be my first male main character story.
- With an established universe and rules, I could focus more on story-telling and not brainstorm about establishing the world and rules. That is why it would be my weekend-project. Easy and relaxing to write. Chapters would be around 2 per week—something like that. That is up for debate for now.
Also, here is the first and only written chapter to give you a taste of it:
Hogwarts
Era of Darkness
Era of Darkness
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Conrad Anguine
Conrad Anguine
It was a weird dream. I was lost in a dark forest. The sky was black and starless, yet the full moon was shining up there in solidarity. I was being chased by a snake, or at least, I think it was a snake. I heard it slither behind me, under the bushes, around the thick, black-barked trees. I was trying to run away from it and get as far as possible, yet its sound and hiss always came from behind me, no matter what I did or where I tried to hide. When I finally stopped, giving up, it laughed and asked in a high-pitched voice if play-time was over already… Yet before I could see where it was, I woke up.
"..." Blinking my eyes and looking around, I was back in my bedroom. I was sitting on the massive, solid wood baldachin bed under a soft, white blanket; I tried regulating my breath as best as possible. It would be shameful for the heir to the Anguine family to show such an unsightly expression right after waking up… but… "That is even worse…" I murmured, watching the wet stains on my sheet.
No, it wasn't pee. It was sweat. Although I bet, I could not explain it to anyone if they discovered it. I climbed out of bed and felt my deep, violet-colored silk pajamas stick to my body like a wetsuit. It was a horrible feeling. Fumbling in the dark, I was cursing under my breath as there was no electricity in our home, and I couldn't flick up a switch to bring light into the darkness. Why would there be? As a family of pureblood wizards, all we needed was magic! The muggle's inventions were nothing but weaknesses. Their pitiful attempt in mimicking magic. At least, that is what my mother always says. Good for her; I am still only 11; I haven't got my wand yet; how should I perform magic then? Well… it did not matter, as my solution came with a crack. Literally.
"Master?" A squeaky voice called out as my personal house elf appeared out of nowhere.
"Squeaky; Light, please," I said, expecting her to appear as soon as I was up. She always did. Even in the dark, I could see the grey clothes on her that resembled a sack that she found somewhere, cutting holes in it for her limbs to wear as a dress. Her floppy, long ears and blue, giant eyes occupied most of her face.
"Master had an accident…." She murmured after snapping her fingers and summoning a small ball of light above her head. I just stared at her, hearing her words that could be the last nails in my reputation's coffin if uttered outside my bedroom.
"Doesn't matter. Clean it up, please." I moaned, starting to undress and wipe myself before dressing up in my regular clothes consisting of a black shirt, deep purple vest, and black pants. "What would I give to have some color in my life…." I added under my breath as my family's colors, black and royal violet, were all that defined my wardrobe's variety. Sometimes, a little gold sprinkled in, here and there… but not much, only on my formal clothes.
"Done, Master," Squeaky said, already having dry and clean sheets on my bed and in the middle of fixing my pillows.
"Thanks," I answered, looking at the clock in the corner of my room. It was dully showing that it was barely past five in the morning. The sun should slowly start rising up, and I was in no mood to go back to sleep. I have had the same nightmare since my coming of age a few months ago. Right after my acceptance letter came and I could call myself a student of Hogwarts. "Is anyone up yet?"
"Yes, Master." She nodded, "Your father is in his study."
"Mhm…" I nodded, deciding I may go and see him before anyone else also woke up. All my belongings should be already packed, and the last thing I would need to get was my own wand before heading off to school. "Ready my usual breakfast," I said, walking out of my room, and Squeaky nodded hurriedly, rushing out and heading straight to the kitchen.
Curious beings, house elves are. They have their own magic, casting it without wands or incantations yet in complete servitude to us, wizards and witches. I never understood it. If I could cast magic so well without any wand, I would never serve nor bow to another. But… I wasn't like that. So I had to bow my head. Just thinking about it made me sigh while I found myself before my father's study and its dark oak, double-sided door. I was watching the carving of a snake on it, making me remember my nightmare from a moment ago.
"No… different." I thought as this snake was familiar. A purple-colored viper with spiky scales on its head and around its eyes. Whatever is chasing me in my dream is different. Is it even a snake? I can't tell. Shaking my head and straightening out my thoughts, I knocked. When meeting Father, it is best to have a collected look; he greatly dislikes pointless ramblings and blabbering. But it always seemed I was an exemption for that... lucky, but I was not about to push my luck too far.
"Come in." Echoed his deep voice, signaling me to push open the door and step in, greeting him courteously.
"Father," I said, bowing with a hand placed on my chest.
Many visitors often said I was the spitting image of my father from when he was young. I could never imagine that, to be honest. He was in his mid-fifties now, not that old for a wizard, but tell that to his outward appearance. To his graying hair, which was quickly receding, starting from the top of his head of all places. I hope that is something I did not inherit… or that there is magic I can use to prevent it. Gone was his dark-violet hair color, which I inherited too… so I am afraid I will go balding just like him a few decades later. Well, at least his eyes are full of vigor, similarly purplish in color, just as mine.
"Can't sleep?" He asked, letting himself smile a little, closing the thick book he had in his hand and placing it on the huge mahogany table before him, where dozens of candles were burning without any drop of vax falling down from them.
"Yes, Father," I answered, and it wasn't a lie. Not really.
"I know the feeling," He chuckled, beckoning me closer, slapping my shoulders with his rough hands, scarred from many duels, almost making me buckle under his raw strength. Or was I just weak? Well… I wasn't that tall or muscular. I wasn't skinny per se, but… very close. "I couldn't sleep at all on the day I was going to get my wand! Oh, the excitement! When the sun is up, I'll take you to Ollivander after breakfast. Choosing a wand is not to be rushed, so I booked the whole shop for you! You can browse to your heart's content!"
"I bet some will not be happy about that!" I joked, making my father chuckle.
"Too bad! They shouldn't have left buying their wands to the last day of the summer!" As he was saying that, he picked out his own wand. It was made out of yew, looking as if small branches were spiraling together, while its handle was fitted with a dark, violet-colored grip, ending in a viper's head at the bottom. I watched as he swished it, summoning a pot of coffee from the kitchen and letting it pour itself out while he continued talking to me. "If they have a problem, they would best go and complain about it at the ministry."
"Sure." I nodded, "I bet anyone would dare to say that the Head of the Muggle-born Registration did something they found unfair!" I added, rolling my eyes, something that I would not dare to do when speaking to my mother. "Then worry if some relatives of theirs turn out to be muggle-born… or someone in their family was back in the day… then they get obliviated into the day after tomorrow! Stripped of their magic and thrown into the muggle world without a clue who they are!"
"Well, that would be the humane outcome." He answered me, maintaining his smile while sipping his coffee, "Better than being sent to be part of the Lord's experiment."
"..." Mentioning… HIS title made me shiver involuntarily. It did not escape my father's eyes, but he did not bring it up.
Mainly because it was the same for him. HIS title was enough to send shivers through anyone. Spelling out his name? That was punishable by law. So nobody even dared to try it. Many only believed him to exist because the tales were still strong about how he came to power. How he defeated everyone in his way, leaving none alive. Well… as someone from the Anguine family, a pure-blood wizarding dynasty, I was privy to more detailed information. He wasn't able to kill everyone. Not yet, at least. Through my father and my mother, thanks to her usually obstinate, loud voice, I knew that many powerful wizards were still in hiding, continuing guerilla warfare against him and the ministry. For many, the terrorist organization, known as the Order of the Phoenix, was long gone, its leader Dumbledore dead… but the reality was different. They were still active, and the latter was very much alive, believe me. I know because he killed my uncle last year when he and other Death Eaters ambushed their previous hideout.
It wasn't a soul that I would miss, mind you. He was a bastard. A male version of my mother, so to speak. Being brother and sister does that, I assume. I never voiced this to anyone, of course, not even to my father. Although he may agree with me, he would only do so behind closed doors and when nobody else was home. My mother's family, the Arcania bloodline was just as old as ours; the only difference… they had been mingling with muggles for centuries. Now, after HE overtook, naming himself the new Minister of Magic, the Arcanias were doing everything to climb back to the ranks of nobles. All those who belonged to her family, those who can still say they are half-bloods, were doing all in their might to wiggle themselves into families like my father's, who maintained their purity. Whatever purity means… A line I would never dare to utter out loud.
"What is the grimace for?" Father asked. Evidently, my face betrayed me, displaying my thoughts without my consent.
"Nothing."
"Thought about your mother?" He smirked, knowing me too well, "Conrad, don't let your thoughts betray you! You are my son; learn to display what others want to see, not what you really think! That could land you in hot water!"
"Or worse," I added, turning his smirk into a proud smile.
"Exactly!" He beamed at me while I let out an inaudible sigh. This is what I did not like. Bowing our heads. I know Father had his own pride, just like now, but many times he pretended that he had discarded it a long time ago. Well… I couldn't really blame him. Some pure wizarding families also refused to bow and were now nothing but fertilizers on some fields in the countryside. What was their name? Weasleys? "Come! I assume you sent Squeaky to the kitchen?" Father said, returning my thoughts to the present and interrupting my sudden daydreaming.
"Yeah." I nodded quickly.
"Good. Let's go down; I am also hungry. After that, we can go out, have a son and father morning or something!"
"At…" I looked at the clock on the wall behind my Father, "At what…? Six in the morning?"
"Why not?" He laughed, patting me on my back as he pushed me out of the study, and I could not help but smile. Whatever father was in other's eyes, I knew one thing for sure. I wanted to make him proud of me.
"..." Blinking my eyes and looking around, I was back in my bedroom. I was sitting on the massive, solid wood baldachin bed under a soft, white blanket; I tried regulating my breath as best as possible. It would be shameful for the heir to the Anguine family to show such an unsightly expression right after waking up… but… "That is even worse…" I murmured, watching the wet stains on my sheet.
No, it wasn't pee. It was sweat. Although I bet, I could not explain it to anyone if they discovered it. I climbed out of bed and felt my deep, violet-colored silk pajamas stick to my body like a wetsuit. It was a horrible feeling. Fumbling in the dark, I was cursing under my breath as there was no electricity in our home, and I couldn't flick up a switch to bring light into the darkness. Why would there be? As a family of pureblood wizards, all we needed was magic! The muggle's inventions were nothing but weaknesses. Their pitiful attempt in mimicking magic. At least, that is what my mother always says. Good for her; I am still only 11; I haven't got my wand yet; how should I perform magic then? Well… it did not matter, as my solution came with a crack. Literally.
"Master?" A squeaky voice called out as my personal house elf appeared out of nowhere.
"Squeaky; Light, please," I said, expecting her to appear as soon as I was up. She always did. Even in the dark, I could see the grey clothes on her that resembled a sack that she found somewhere, cutting holes in it for her limbs to wear as a dress. Her floppy, long ears and blue, giant eyes occupied most of her face.
"Master had an accident…." She murmured after snapping her fingers and summoning a small ball of light above her head. I just stared at her, hearing her words that could be the last nails in my reputation's coffin if uttered outside my bedroom.
"Doesn't matter. Clean it up, please." I moaned, starting to undress and wipe myself before dressing up in my regular clothes consisting of a black shirt, deep purple vest, and black pants. "What would I give to have some color in my life…." I added under my breath as my family's colors, black and royal violet, were all that defined my wardrobe's variety. Sometimes, a little gold sprinkled in, here and there… but not much, only on my formal clothes.
"Done, Master," Squeaky said, already having dry and clean sheets on my bed and in the middle of fixing my pillows.
"Thanks," I answered, looking at the clock in the corner of my room. It was dully showing that it was barely past five in the morning. The sun should slowly start rising up, and I was in no mood to go back to sleep. I have had the same nightmare since my coming of age a few months ago. Right after my acceptance letter came and I could call myself a student of Hogwarts. "Is anyone up yet?"
"Yes, Master." She nodded, "Your father is in his study."
"Mhm…" I nodded, deciding I may go and see him before anyone else also woke up. All my belongings should be already packed, and the last thing I would need to get was my own wand before heading off to school. "Ready my usual breakfast," I said, walking out of my room, and Squeaky nodded hurriedly, rushing out and heading straight to the kitchen.
Curious beings, house elves are. They have their own magic, casting it without wands or incantations yet in complete servitude to us, wizards and witches. I never understood it. If I could cast magic so well without any wand, I would never serve nor bow to another. But… I wasn't like that. So I had to bow my head. Just thinking about it made me sigh while I found myself before my father's study and its dark oak, double-sided door. I was watching the carving of a snake on it, making me remember my nightmare from a moment ago.
"No… different." I thought as this snake was familiar. A purple-colored viper with spiky scales on its head and around its eyes. Whatever is chasing me in my dream is different. Is it even a snake? I can't tell. Shaking my head and straightening out my thoughts, I knocked. When meeting Father, it is best to have a collected look; he greatly dislikes pointless ramblings and blabbering. But it always seemed I was an exemption for that... lucky, but I was not about to push my luck too far.
"Come in." Echoed his deep voice, signaling me to push open the door and step in, greeting him courteously.
"Father," I said, bowing with a hand placed on my chest.
Many visitors often said I was the spitting image of my father from when he was young. I could never imagine that, to be honest. He was in his mid-fifties now, not that old for a wizard, but tell that to his outward appearance. To his graying hair, which was quickly receding, starting from the top of his head of all places. I hope that is something I did not inherit… or that there is magic I can use to prevent it. Gone was his dark-violet hair color, which I inherited too… so I am afraid I will go balding just like him a few decades later. Well, at least his eyes are full of vigor, similarly purplish in color, just as mine.
"Can't sleep?" He asked, letting himself smile a little, closing the thick book he had in his hand and placing it on the huge mahogany table before him, where dozens of candles were burning without any drop of vax falling down from them.
"Yes, Father," I answered, and it wasn't a lie. Not really.
"I know the feeling," He chuckled, beckoning me closer, slapping my shoulders with his rough hands, scarred from many duels, almost making me buckle under his raw strength. Or was I just weak? Well… I wasn't that tall or muscular. I wasn't skinny per se, but… very close. "I couldn't sleep at all on the day I was going to get my wand! Oh, the excitement! When the sun is up, I'll take you to Ollivander after breakfast. Choosing a wand is not to be rushed, so I booked the whole shop for you! You can browse to your heart's content!"
"I bet some will not be happy about that!" I joked, making my father chuckle.
"Too bad! They shouldn't have left buying their wands to the last day of the summer!" As he was saying that, he picked out his own wand. It was made out of yew, looking as if small branches were spiraling together, while its handle was fitted with a dark, violet-colored grip, ending in a viper's head at the bottom. I watched as he swished it, summoning a pot of coffee from the kitchen and letting it pour itself out while he continued talking to me. "If they have a problem, they would best go and complain about it at the ministry."
"Sure." I nodded, "I bet anyone would dare to say that the Head of the Muggle-born Registration did something they found unfair!" I added, rolling my eyes, something that I would not dare to do when speaking to my mother. "Then worry if some relatives of theirs turn out to be muggle-born… or someone in their family was back in the day… then they get obliviated into the day after tomorrow! Stripped of their magic and thrown into the muggle world without a clue who they are!"
"Well, that would be the humane outcome." He answered me, maintaining his smile while sipping his coffee, "Better than being sent to be part of the Lord's experiment."
"..." Mentioning… HIS title made me shiver involuntarily. It did not escape my father's eyes, but he did not bring it up.
Mainly because it was the same for him. HIS title was enough to send shivers through anyone. Spelling out his name? That was punishable by law. So nobody even dared to try it. Many only believed him to exist because the tales were still strong about how he came to power. How he defeated everyone in his way, leaving none alive. Well… as someone from the Anguine family, a pure-blood wizarding dynasty, I was privy to more detailed information. He wasn't able to kill everyone. Not yet, at least. Through my father and my mother, thanks to her usually obstinate, loud voice, I knew that many powerful wizards were still in hiding, continuing guerilla warfare against him and the ministry. For many, the terrorist organization, known as the Order of the Phoenix, was long gone, its leader Dumbledore dead… but the reality was different. They were still active, and the latter was very much alive, believe me. I know because he killed my uncle last year when he and other Death Eaters ambushed their previous hideout.
It wasn't a soul that I would miss, mind you. He was a bastard. A male version of my mother, so to speak. Being brother and sister does that, I assume. I never voiced this to anyone, of course, not even to my father. Although he may agree with me, he would only do so behind closed doors and when nobody else was home. My mother's family, the Arcania bloodline was just as old as ours; the only difference… they had been mingling with muggles for centuries. Now, after HE overtook, naming himself the new Minister of Magic, the Arcanias were doing everything to climb back to the ranks of nobles. All those who belonged to her family, those who can still say they are half-bloods, were doing all in their might to wiggle themselves into families like my father's, who maintained their purity. Whatever purity means… A line I would never dare to utter out loud.
"What is the grimace for?" Father asked. Evidently, my face betrayed me, displaying my thoughts without my consent.
"Nothing."
"Thought about your mother?" He smirked, knowing me too well, "Conrad, don't let your thoughts betray you! You are my son; learn to display what others want to see, not what you really think! That could land you in hot water!"
"Or worse," I added, turning his smirk into a proud smile.
"Exactly!" He beamed at me while I let out an inaudible sigh. This is what I did not like. Bowing our heads. I know Father had his own pride, just like now, but many times he pretended that he had discarded it a long time ago. Well… I couldn't really blame him. Some pure wizarding families also refused to bow and were now nothing but fertilizers on some fields in the countryside. What was their name? Weasleys? "Come! I assume you sent Squeaky to the kitchen?" Father said, returning my thoughts to the present and interrupting my sudden daydreaming.
"Yeah." I nodded quickly.
"Good. Let's go down; I am also hungry. After that, we can go out, have a son and father morning or something!"
"At…" I looked at the clock on the wall behind my Father, "At what…? Six in the morning?"
"Why not?" He laughed, patting me on my back as he pushed me out of the study, and I could not help but smile. Whatever father was in other's eyes, I knew one thing for sure. I wanted to make him proud of me.
Thanks for anyone for the feedback in advance.
