Sequel: All You Wish For and All You Need ›
We Can't Wake Up
Harry Potter
The morning of Harry Potter’s arrival dawned dark. Low clouds surrounded the castle and when outside it was impossible to see more than two metres in front. Marcus ate in silence, listening to the pathetic excitement about Harry Potter.
When breakfast was over everyone was ushered into the Entrance hall so that the Great hall could be set up. Moments later they were pushed back in and everyone took a seat. Marcus sat towards the back, Arnold and Richard either side of him.
A tall man with a mop of messy black hair and piercing green eyes stood before them. In the centre of his forehead was a lightning-bolt shaped scar. Marcus inwardly shuddered with revulsion.
“Hello, I’m Harry Potter,” Harry began. “It feels great to be back here and to see all your faces. I always loved this school, it was my home.” He paused and looked over the sea of faces. His eyes drifted towards the back where three boys sat slumped in their seats. Harry’s eyes connected with the boy in the middle and his jaw dropped slightly. He was an exact replica of Tom Riddle when he was at school.
The boy stared back at Harry with unhidden spite flowing from his black eyes.
Harry cleared his throat and continued on, the image of that boy burned into his mind.
Afterwards, when most of the students had left the hall, Harry was still talking to a few first years. Marcus sat patiently in his seat, waiting for the moment.
Finally, the first years walked away, talking excitedly. Marcus stood and walked towards Harry who had his back turned.
“Harry Potter,” Marcus said quietly.
Harry paused before turning slowly around. “Yes, and you are?” he extended his hand.
“Marcus Lestrange,” Marcus replied, ignoring the hand offered. Harry slowly withdrew his hand.
“Lestrange?” Harry raised his eyebrows. “I haven’t heard that name in a while,”
“No, I expect you wouldn’t of.” Marcus said politely, his face and voice carefully masked.
“So, um, how old are you Marcus?”
“I am fifteen.” Marcus replied.
“Yes, well, nice to meet you Marcus,” Harry replied and turned away.
Marcus smiled to himself. He knew that Harry Potter was scared.
When breakfast was over everyone was ushered into the Entrance hall so that the Great hall could be set up. Moments later they were pushed back in and everyone took a seat. Marcus sat towards the back, Arnold and Richard either side of him.
A tall man with a mop of messy black hair and piercing green eyes stood before them. In the centre of his forehead was a lightning-bolt shaped scar. Marcus inwardly shuddered with revulsion.
“Hello, I’m Harry Potter,” Harry began. “It feels great to be back here and to see all your faces. I always loved this school, it was my home.” He paused and looked over the sea of faces. His eyes drifted towards the back where three boys sat slumped in their seats. Harry’s eyes connected with the boy in the middle and his jaw dropped slightly. He was an exact replica of Tom Riddle when he was at school.
The boy stared back at Harry with unhidden spite flowing from his black eyes.
Harry cleared his throat and continued on, the image of that boy burned into his mind.
Afterwards, when most of the students had left the hall, Harry was still talking to a few first years. Marcus sat patiently in his seat, waiting for the moment.
Finally, the first years walked away, talking excitedly. Marcus stood and walked towards Harry who had his back turned.
“Harry Potter,” Marcus said quietly.
Harry paused before turning slowly around. “Yes, and you are?” he extended his hand.
“Marcus Lestrange,” Marcus replied, ignoring the hand offered. Harry slowly withdrew his hand.
“Lestrange?” Harry raised his eyebrows. “I haven’t heard that name in a while,”
“No, I expect you wouldn’t of.” Marcus said politely, his face and voice carefully masked.
“So, um, how old are you Marcus?”
“I am fifteen.” Marcus replied.
“Yes, well, nice to meet you Marcus,” Harry replied and turned away.
Marcus smiled to himself. He knew that Harry Potter was scared.