Summary: It is said that to be forewarned is to be forearmed. But sometimes, even with the knowledge of what is to come, the destination will always be the same - no matter the difference in the path travelled. Waking up one morning Harry finds his familiar surroundings eerily altered. Sent to a dark future shaped under the rule of Voldemort, in which all knowledge of his existence has been forgotten, Harry is forced to rely on one of the few people who remembers his name: Severus Snape. 6th Year AU. Nominated for best Dark/Angst story in the 2008 QSQ.
Summary: Harry was pretty sure it had been an unfortunate trick of the light, and therefore dismissed it as stress combined with an unhealthy lack of sleep finally taking their toll on his sanity. The start of the new school year was, undoubtedly, a wonderful thing. Getting his three children onto the train with the bare minimum of fuss, outrage and actual bodily harm was quite another.
Summary: It is a well known fact that all the Pureblooded families are inbred, but it is not until the issue of marriage arises that Draco realises just how out of hand the problem has truly become.
Summary: The thing I had never before considered about Muggles is that there are, and always have been, so very many of them. It seems ironic that I would have missed such a discernable fact. Had I ever stumbled across it written in a book I would have merely shaken my head at the thought that someone felt the need to write down something so elementary. Even then, however, I would not have considered the implications of what it could mean. The facts never changed though, only my perception of them; that there are thousands, probably hundreds of thousands, for each individual witch or wizard.
Summary: They were here. She had known they were coming, and the prospect had allowed a tickle of annoyance to prickle at the back of her mind in the days since the news, but now they were here and Petunia had never before felt so angry, had never before felt such a hot coil of fury that sat heavily in the pit of her stomach and blazed behind her eyes.
Summary: Now it was gone. In truth it had been gone for a good ten or so years, but the loss still felt new. It was a waste, that was what it was. It was a waste to mourn something that had never really been his and had only been granted to him, however briefly, by something so evil. No matter how many times he told himself this though, no matter how much he reminded himself that no part of the Dark Lord could ever have been worth keeping, he couldnít deny the truth. This he missed.
Summary: So many children had passed through her class in the small Primary School of Little Whinging, and Miss. Morrison liked to think she remembered them all. The shy ones, who hid behind their mothers legs or curled up in their fathers protective arms; the boisterous ones, who ran in small, never ending circles with boundless energy. The smart ones and the ones who struggled, sometimes bravely and sometimes with tears and tantrums. The short ones and the tall ones, the sweet and the mischievous; they were all special to her, in their own way, and they all earned themselves a special place in her memories. All of them, that is, except for one.
Summary: Slowly it was rebuilt from the same node, from the same tiny green spark that hovered at the core of the spell as he fed it power. Power not just to destroy the thing, but to destroy all things, all the things that made him old and feeble and slowly withered him away; all the things that crippled and pained him. And the words formed with the energies as he manipulated them, churning endlessly as they sought what they required to fulfil his bidding. Mimicking the languages of old, learning from those from which it grew until it had a purpose of its own. Avada Kedavra, I destroy as I speak.