Masquerade

Prelude: A Symphony of Pain and Suffering

A/N: This chapter is a prelude, or prologue to the story so apologizes if it is a bit short and vague but I cannot reveal too much without spoiling the secrets of the story. That was the whole reason why I named this fic Masquerade after all. The story revolves around secrets and on hiding them, and on living with them and forgetting them. And what better way to represent the physical manifestation of a secret than with a mask? I also kinda love masquerade ball scenes as I find them fancy and cool as hell. If I had money to throw one I would. As it is I can only write about one :) And you can bet there will be a masquerade scene in this if I get my way.

But enough talk for now, onwards with the story. I will be posting the official first chapter in a weeks time as soon as I get all the kinks out and am satisfied with the quality of it.

During times of war, hatred becomes quite respectable even though it has to masquerade often under the guise of patriotism- Howard Thurman

War.

The very word sent a chill down ones back and horrid images of death and dying, and blood and bleeding into one's minds eye.

War.

That which humanity supposedly despised but which they readily used to reek havoc upon one another without so much as batting their eye. For centuries man indulged in the crude acts of senseless slaughter, in using their barbaric methods of killing to take over enemy lands in battles fought for glory, gold or god. Each side thought they were right, that their way of seeing the world was the only right way that it could ever be perceived. And as time went on and their weapons and methods advanced, their way of thinking did not. Nations rose and fell and each new one that came from their ashes claimed to be better than their predecessors; to be more humane towards other less fortunate countries. Yet when the facade dropped it turned out that they were more cruel than others before, their new weapons of mass destruction tearing and ripping this world apart, degrading the human soul even more. Each generation however, held the hope that something would change. That one day there would be no need for wars among humans; that they could live in peace and harmony whilst sharing all manners of different ideals.

This was a foolish belief.

For no matter how intelligent humanity claims to be, no matter how fine the clothes they wear, how gourmet the food they eat and how they strive to learn themselves on various worldly matters, the fact remains that humans are animals too. And animals all fall in line to Mother Natures whims, whims and desires that cannot be fully ignored or gotten rid of no matter how deep they are buried.

And it was because of humanities failed attempts to reinvent themselves to be better each time a new generation rose, that the wizarding world found them laughable and anserine.

"Stupid muggles," they would sneer as they sat in high castles protected with various wards, sipping their expensive elixirs. "Look at them covered in filth and mud, look at them cry at the ruination of their own nation, one they caused themselves. How silly. How pathetic." It was this contempt at the humans that bred witches and wizards sense of importance, of their sense in being more privileged and fit to walk this planet than them. The wizards, once close to humanity as the very first magic users had very well come from humans, left them behind, secluding themselves in ivory towers and in communities hidden from muggle eyes.

The magic users grew increasingly more and more close knit to one another, hating and picking on the muggles as well as muggle born witches, who they had taken to dubbing as mudbloods, because of the way they wallowed in the own filth of their destruction. These witches and wizards who thought they were above humans began to marry within one another, fearing to lower themselves by marrying a mudblood and thus defaming the family. Blood purity above all they would swear and it was something they took seriously, going so far as to exile those from the family line that did not follow this motto, one that all true pure blooded wizard families took to heart and to mind.

But not all wizards were like this. Some still liked to remember where they had come from, that their roots lay with those mud dwellers, and that instead of sneering at them, they should pity them and help them out. The humans were less fortunate then them and it wasn't their fault they were stuck brandishing over sized knives at each other for safety instead of harnessing wondrous magic. These were the wizards who were labeled as blood traitors by the pure ones, because it was these wizards that were sympathetic to the plight of humans and that often helped them out or even started families with them. The pure bloods were upset by this but they did not wage war against the blood traitors. No, war was beneath them. And if the rabble wanted to lay with the filth it was none of their concern as long as they stayed away from the pure families.

But tensions only rose between the two wizarding groups and things were only made worse when now Muggle born witches were being let into the community, a community that had been previously closed off and now opened up by political leaders in order to be more inclusive of all magical beings. These muggle born beings were the worst of the worst, practically Muggles themselves. And there was so many of them, their numbers rising tremendously ever since the gates to the community had been opened. The pure bloods feared on what to do. If this pattern continued they would eventually be overpowered and outnumbered and would lose all the sway they had with the government; their monopolies would fall.

To their luck, but to the soon to be horror of everyone else, a man rose out of the ranks of wizards. A man with a mission to destroy all such half bloods and blood traitors and mudbloods. A mission to reinstate blood purity among the royalty. The pure bloods stuck to his side like gum to a shoe. They followed his beliefs blindly and soon the first wizarding war erupted. The very tactics that pure bloods had laughed down their noses at in the human world they employed easily in the magic world. The man had convinced them there was nothing wrong with using filthy mudblood techniques on those who protected them.

"If they protect filth then they should expect filth to be thrown at them," he had rationalized. His words held a great sway over the minds of his followers and they charged ahead, committing horrible crimes left and right.

They were practically unstoppable under the wave of terror he had brought and the government was powerless to stop him, too corrupted to work together properly. But not all things last forever and this man's reign was cut short when a curse he used backfired and left him dead. All his followers were lost without him and easily captured, carted off into a prison that held only the most heinous of the wizarding world. There they sat and rot, bodies nearly resembling corpses as they did their time.

The wizarding community celebrated the evil wizard's death but not all, and it was those few who were morose that mourned the lord but not for long, for they knew he would return one day to finish what he had started. And they were right, because just a mere fourteen years after he had been proclaimed dead he rose again more powerful than before and built up his forces once more, till steadily they were a power to be reckoned with. What he did not expect was that a hero had risen, or three heroes to be exact. There was the brains of the group, who formed plans to thwart him, there was the bold, who despite his lack in skills fought bravely by his friends side offering whatever assistance he could, and there was the brawn, the boy who lived and who dared to take on the evil lord head on. They were dubbed the Golden Trio.

The evil lord had his own special forces to combat the armies of good who vastly outnumbered his. But where he lacked in number he made up for with skill. Death Eaters, he called them. Loyal to a fault and well versed in unforgivable curses. Two among them stood above the rest. One was a man who had claimed to be working for the good side but was in actuality as doubled tongued as the monster he swore his true allegiance to. All the valuable information he had brokered on the warriors of good proved to be an invaluable asset to his lord. And then there was the female Death Eater, whose crazed devotion to her lord was backed by the readiness to use her immense magical prowess to make those who opposed him suffer.

Mighty battles were held as good fought evil and as evil fought good. Both sides took heavy casualties and dealt out heavy casualties. Cities were moved, forests were changed and tides were disrupted as the battle spilled over to the human world. The warriors of good only wanted a wizarding world where blood purity did not dictate everything, where witches and wizards could live together as one. The forces of evil wanted none of that, believing the good sides ideas of having everyone living together in equality the same stupid ideology that humans strove for but never achieved.

And so the wars would be waged on. Countless important people to the Golden Trio fell, lost to death's hungry clutches. All they could do was shed tears for those close to them, commit them to memory and press on, not resting till the evil lord finally fell. And at last an opportunity came, one that would forever change the tide of the war. Both armies had gathered at a school, a place with a lot of history to the evil lord and to the boy who lived. Black and white and gray swirled together as bursts of red followed after muttered spells and splattered on the floor as useless wands clattered to the ground, rolling to join their equally as useless owners.

It was at this battle that many important decisions were made, that destinies were fulfilled. Things changed for everyone there, but not necessarily in the right way or in the way anyone would have predicted.

War.

A simple word yet it held so much devastation to it.

War.

No longer a thing of only human creation.

War.

It determined who deserved to live and who didn't; it judged all harshly.

War.

Voldemort's war.

And now her war, as she fought for that which she didn't know she was fighting for.