Whispers of a Raven by TheBlack'sResurgence

Chapter 3

He couldn't help but feel that his life was a constant punchline to a joke that had long ago lost all its humour. Everything that he had faced and endured had cumulated to the least likely outcome of all and he knew that this was only the beginning. How could he even begin to fathom what it was he now faced? It was as though everything thus far had been for nothing, had only been for the amusement of those that played the world as if it was there own private chess board and he was but a lowly pawn sent forth to do their bidding.

He shook his head at the thought.

It was much worse than that. Someone had seemingly tired of the rules and had reinvented them. He was still a mere pawn, however, and stood alone staring across the board at a full ensemble of foes.

The cloaked figure had spoken of balance, but where was it? He remained outnumbered and out of his depth. Out of the many questions that plagued his mind, the most pressing was; what could he do about it?

He had almost laughed at the predicament he found himself in but could not do so. He had faced danger throughout his life, had either overcome or barely survived it on numerous occasions. This was different.

There was nothing he had encountered like this, no experience to call upon to help him through. Of all the preparations he had made, this had never been considered. Why would it have been? It was ludicrous to even ponder such a turn of events.

He frowned as he thought about just what it was he knew about the 1970s and he immediately came up short. He knew nothing of the period and couldn't even be sure if he had somehow been navigated back through his own timeline.

His only experience of such was useless here. He had been thirteen when he and Hermione had gone back but a few hours and he had thought little of it since. The study of time travel had never been of interest to him, if that was even what he had been subjected to now.

Were there alternative universes? If so, what was different here than what would have led to the life he'd lived?

There were too many variables, too many doubts that did nothing but induce a pounding headache.

Even if it was his own timeline and the events would unfold as they had without his intervention, he was no better off. He would still be as blind as if he had been thrown into an entirely different world.

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself and his mind took the opportunity to throw more questions his way.

If he had indeed time travelled, was the prophecy that pertained to him and Voldemort still relevant?

He swallowed deeply as the weight of the burden settled within him.

The words may not have been uttered yet, but he could feel them upon his shoulders. Voldemort was the sole reason he had been sent here by the cloaked figure and whatever other oddity had a hand in it.

Voldemort may not know of it yet, but Harry did and he could not help but think that was all that mattered in the grand scheme of things. The confrontation between the two of them was inevitable. Fate had decreed it so and if she was as the cloaked figure described, she would see her desired end.

"Neither can live while the other survives."

Such a thought offered him little comfort and he only felt more helpless than he already had.