Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo.
But this wasn't one of those days and it wasn't one of those times. There were no moocows in sight and certainly there was no one here called baby tuckoo. I have often found myself wishing that these were very good times but I just can't overlook what's gone on and can't tell you, so that you'll remember when you're older and you need to recall my voice, that once upon a time, and a very good time it was, there was a certain redhead looking out of the window and this certain redhead that was looking out the window watched a naughty little snakehead burst into the sky. And this naughty little snakehead was called Dark Mark.
Because this Dark Mark has been very naughty hasn't he, and in these times which are not very good times indeed to see his face is worse than if a moocow was rambling down the road and ran into a Farmer with a pellet gun who was ready to make this moocow into the next night's supper.
James Joyce is a small consolation to me in the times that are now that are growing darker. While things in his world have already happened and are how they are and will never change because they have been written down and that is what makes themů.Everything is changing. Our parents never told me that they would, and while I wish they had, it's the least that I can do to warn you that in the coming days there will be war, and there will be more of that naughty little snakehead in the sky so much of that naughty little snakehead, in fact, that your heart will come to know its face closer than your own brothers.
You're my little sister and if there's anything that I wish for you and I wish it badly is that these were very good times and that the hardest thing that you would ever have to do is to interpret the Muggle ramblings of a crazy author who's painted A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. But I know it in my heart that there will be harder things that you have to do. Hogwarts is your haven, Molly, and Hogwarts is a staunch protector of light in a world that is growing closer to sunset every evening. In these times, and very scary times they are, there's a man out on the road to immortality who doesn't wish to run into any baby tuckoo, but that's why Gideon and I are going to do what we're going to do. We've joined the Order, Molly, and we won't let anything hurt you. We'll keep the hidden walls of your Home hidden, and we'll do our best to scold the naughty snakehead into submission.
But it's true isn't it that in times like these the light and the dark work together rather as the night sky works with the stars, surrounding us and cutting us off from each other and creating us to be little pin-prick lights that are easily forgotten in the vastness of the inky blackness that is the coming oblivion of sleep and forgetting. I see it in the sky that soon I'll be even further away from you than I am and that my little light will somewhere in the next years or the coming days extinguish but I will never relinquish the the dark of my own volition. This is something that I hope you remember even though I cannot track down the road and meet you to tell you just about it. I hope that you remember my effort as vital to the protection of your life and the life of your children, when you have them and when they're old enough to understand or if the times are thrust upon them and they have no choice but to forsake the ununderstanding for knowledge. I hope that in either case you remember me as someone who loves you and wants to stay with you but not more than I want to see that naughty snakehead punished and not more than I want to put an end to the darkness that causes it to erupt into the world.
If this makes me selfish then you'll have to excuse me, Molly, but as I watch into the night and realise that there are people who have been extinguished and whose bodies and wrecked house and home and life are marked by the Dark Mark in the sky I understand beyond a point where I can reason with myself that I have to do something. The longer that I sit here trying to lose myself in the muddled, confusing world of the Young Man which is not mine, but thinking that if I read just another page, and then another, and then another it will become my world, the longer that I aid in the destruction of what has held up the sacredness of my world and yours. As I think of you there, scared, wondering if you'll make it through the long, long night that are these times to see the dawn of a new era when the times are very good, I know that I have to leave in order to keep you here. I think of you often, Molly, and some little part of me that finds itself helpless to the overwhelming shift in the winds of good fortune and prosperity wishes that I had failed in my studies and had had to stay for just another year, just so that I could be with you and be with hope and life and light and the great wisdom of the side that we have chosen.
Out here on my own it seems unlikely that I'll ever make it back there; the time that it will take me to travel into the blackness is much quicker than the time that it will take me to pave the new golden road. I wish it more than anything that there wasn't an evil in this world and that you could grow up living in the place I often dream of as filled with glow and flowers and happiness and a place where the twisted complex thoughts of an Artist are the worst things that I could come across. Did you know that I even hated the book when I first took it up? Did you know that I found the way that I lost myself to the circular mentality problematic, that I connected to it without understanding why and I could not see the purpose in that or the good, so I despised it?
I almost despise the way that I know what I have to do. I almost despise the way that I know that we will head willingly into the mouth of the enemy, outnumbered and hindered by a love for humanity and inability to understand what it is that makes them seek more than what they have. I almost despise the way that I know that I will leave you to seek on your own what's left of happiness in the relations of love and that you will have a family while Gid and I will head out as nomads defending the name of light without ever a true home. I almost despise the way that I'll leave you my watch in hopes that when you look at the planets you'll remember that there's a way of life that is good and right and that is how the world is supposed to be, in hopes that you'll realise that we gave ourselves up to good because we recognise that this problem is bigger than us and will swallow the world without a second thought if we stop to think about what we're doing, and what we're giving up by entering into the war.
But what's worst of all is that I'll leave you. I will leave you and I will head down the road as the moocow once did but my times will be dark and I will meet as I'm walking down this road an evil little boy named Voldemort, and I will fight until my life as a moocow is over and I have to watch restrained from some high and separate place as the earth settles into either rest or is upheaved into further chaos.
I know that when you look at me you see what I know will happen. But you do not see the naughty little snakeheads from your perch in the castle of escapingreality and you do not understand why I look like fear whenever you turn to me. You laugh and I try always to return to you what you've given me but I know, I know and you do not that I will run into the bad little boy down along the path. You do not know that there is a road. You do not know that I am on it. You look on to the rest of the world through a sympathetic veil that shows you not what happens outside of your castle but only the look on my face and I wish that I could take it away, but I have decided to understand and that is not something that I could take back, or undo. It's something that is here to stay and it is something that you will come to see in the times that will come.
I see them. I look out the window and as I see them, I know what I will do.
Quietly, quiet as a mouse so that I do not wake my brother, who has known for more years than I what we will meet down the road, I lower the stuffed toy into the wrapping that I have laid out on the table by the window. My hand is tinged with a sickly green as another naughty snakehead bursts into the darkness above.
I quickly draw the strings and set the package out of the light of the window, so that the toy cow inside cannot be touched by the green coming in. So that when it reaches you in your castle in Hogwarts as you ignore the delivered paper that's resting beside your morning goblet of pumpkin juice, you will have in your hands a piece of the world that I will die to defend, untouched by malice, hate, destruction, or darkness.
You see, once upon a time and a very dark time it was there was a young man coming down along the road and this young man that was coming down along the road met a naughty little boy named the Dark Lordů
thanks to inspiredL for--well--inspiring this story!!
hope you like it :)
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