sword of gryffindor

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**CHAPTER 1: The Boy who Lived...**

Jeremy Kingsley lay awake in his bed in a quaint house in the suburbs near Liverpool, England. Usually, at this hour, he would be sleeping contentedly next to his wife of nearly twenty years. Not this night though. The room was pitch black, and his wife slept soundly on her half of the bed, once again she had taken all the sheets to herself. Rubbing his face from the dampness on his brow, he took a deep breath, sitting up in bed.

He was an Instructor at the LionHeart Order of Sorcery for nearly fifteen years, and trained many of the world’s best wizards and witches in advanced Magic. He was head of the Judgment and Assessment Department, where he specialized in the training of young brash wizards to harness and to use or not to use spells in a certain situations. This by itself was a complex and difficult area of Magic, as it required proper discipline in the mind and heart. His small innate ability, a sub-branch of the “Seer” class of wizard, was called “Pre Cognito” or more commonly referred to as “The Far Seer”. Unlike the more vague and probability-based aspects of Prophecy, the Far Seer Saw events that were to happen almost instantaneously, or a short period of time just before the real events happened.

Usually, it would be just a flash of something out of the ordinary, like a glass falling off a table, or a minor accident of some sort. It proved useful on the field though, his reflexes were just a tad better than everyone else’s. It was a gift than ran through his family for generations, but he hated being called a “Prophet” or “Divine Seer” or whatever rubbish they taught at schools nowadays. He was a Far Seer, and that meant exactly that. He saw things before they happened, and there usually was not enough time to change matters. But this time…it was different.

Throughout his whole life, these visions never lasted more than a few seconds, and never while he was sleeping. Tonight, tonight was different. The images were clearly pronounced, and …and he would be damned if he allowed himself to be fooled that this was just an ordinary dream. Forcing himself to remember, he ran through what he had just seen.

Two long rows of Ministry Security Detail were marching through wide, polished halls, their footsteps in Military-rigid precision. Everyone’s faces were blurred, but from the leader of the entourage he knew exactly who was behind this excursion. It was a dark haired woman; unmistakably Madame Diggory, the youngest and most beautiful Minister of Magic ever. The images blurred past in a rapid sequence of events, and the next decipherable vision was that of a huge smouldering hole blown through the thick stone wall, children and Ministry officials alike running in all directions.

Remarkably, standing alone in the midst of the carnage was a young man….

And from that clear as day “vision” he just had, if he didn’t do something now, disaster may strike.

**********

Many miles away, under the baleful light of the moon, everything was quiet at one of the most ancient and respected schools in the magical arts. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was peacefully quiet, the stately towers creating a jagged outline against the night sky. The snow fell steadily, the parapets and rooftops of the antique castle covered in its fine white blanket. Magical inextinguishable fires blazed cheerily on the tower torches, their orange glow dancing against the spotted white and gray of snow-covered mortar and stone. The Whomping Willow lower down the hill shook its snow-laden braches, sneezing away the clumps that got inside of the knots in its trunk. The tranquil lake reflected pinpricks of firelight, the natural surroundings seemed to be bursting with magic.

Everything was peaceful, and everyone was fast asleep, dreaming about the new and fantastic gifts they got for the holidays. Only a few knew of the events of this past Christmas, and even fewer again were directly involved in the climatic battle against The Dark Lord. Amongst those few, slept a young man, no older than sixteen years of age. Dreams were not uncommon, and nightmares were never far away….

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⏰ Last updated: Nov 14, 2011 ⏰

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