Disclaimer: I definitely do not own the Harry Potter books, characters,
plot line, etc. I do not possess either the skill or the imagination of J.
K. Rowling, and so I do not wish to infringe her rights by publishing this
fan fiction and I will not attempt to sell it or in some way, shape, or
form make money off of it.
Disclaimer DONE. YAY!
Also, note. If you've already read this before, then I want to point out that about three or so paragraphs of this first chapter have been changed to fit the release of the fifth book. I didn't want to continue on writing a fic that was out of date, so I changed it. *Grin* Me a perfectionist (sort of) and me proud of it!
Well, R&R if you want - I LOVE constructive criticisms, so please give them if you have them! However, I don't appreciate flames because I find them pointless and unnecessary, thank you very much.
Well, enjoy!
-~-~-~-~-
It was summer. The season Harry disliked most, which though was unusual for a student, was not something that he had pulled out of thin air. For in the summer Harry had to stay with his uncle, aunt, and cousin, the Dursleys. He was a wizard and they were muggles and wizard-haters, not a perfect combination to make a peaceful household. And though he had grown up in the home of the Dursleys, his school, Hogwarts, had always felt like more of the home he could have had if his parents had not been killed. And the teachers and students were his family. Sickeningly sentimental, but very true to his feelings.
So each summer he returned to the Dursleys, even though the events of the past year had escalated so that even the meager tie of blood that had held magical protection for Harry in the past seemed dubious. For, as any diligent reader of Harry Potter knows, the last summer had brought with it the arrival of two Dementors, of all things, on Privet Drive. The school year had brought worse. It had brought with its passing the death of his beloved godfather, Sirius Black, as well as the assurance of Voldemort's vast powers.
Professor Dumbledore wasn't taking any chances.
Understand that Harry was very happy that Professor Dumbledore wasn't taking chances with Harry's life...however, although the summers had been increasingly better in respect to how the Dursleys treated him, it was difficult to do summer activities while the whole world, both wizards and muggles alike, were in danger. Unlike last year he was not necessarily angry about being put into the relative safety of the Dursleys home, but he was edgy.
The only thing that kept him from flying off the walls was that a few days ago he had received a letter from Professor Lupin, within which there was a hint of an 'unexpected arrival'. Although it could possibly Lupin himself, Harry didn't think it would be. And naturally Harry immediately was of the opinion that someone, or perhaps a whole bunch of someones like the year before, was going to come for him.
So at day he was preoccupied with staying out of the Dursleys way and wondering about whom was going to come. At night he tossed and turned in his bed, dreams of unpleasant nature disturbing his mind. All in all, it was a rather typical summer for the legendary orphan.
It was around midnight, the periodic snores of Dudley from the other room occasionally breaking the serene silence that had come with the darkness of night. Harry as usual was having trouble going to sleep, partly because of the before mentioned snores and partly because of his own troubled thoughts.
The subject of Voldemort had been on his mind constantly ever since leaving Hogwarts. Even though he had only come face to face with the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord's followers during the school term, he always felt safer when being there, with Dumbledore and the other professors nearby. But at Privet Drive he was practically alone. One can't count the Dursleys in the matter of magic and would be useless if ever they were confronted by the dark arts. No, Harry was alone among the worst muggles that had ever been born, and who knew where Voldemort was or what his plans were? He could be still in the graveyard of his father's, or somewhere else entirely.
He lay, staring at the ceiling, mentally tracing the hairline cracks in the plaster, the cracking of old paint in the corners, and slowly he became drowsy. Reluctantly his eyes finally closed and it took only a moment for him to fall asleep.
It was dark. That was the first thing Harry noticed as he walked along on a cold path of stone. It was dark and threatening, like a predator awaiting its prey, thought Harry suddenly. He attempted looking forward and then to either side of him, but all he could see was the darkness that hung suspended around him, ready to pounce on him, to attack with shadowy claws.
Involuntarily he shivered, no, shadowy teeth. A poisonous snake coiling its away around me, just waiting to be released. He shivered again, hugging his arms about him, feeling the coldness of fear creeping up in him, trying to fight it away. He thought for a moment that he felt a pair of slitted eyes watching him from behind him, and he turned quickly around to see only the predictable darkness. Nothing's there....
It seemed like hours before he stumbled off the stone path and into a forest that was only slightly lighter than the darkness he had just come out of. Harry did not look back, but continued on, threading his way through the thick trunks of tall trees, just as forbidding as the darkness.
The sounds of slithering near his side, and he turned his head quickly and saw nothing. A mocking hiss from his other side, again he turned his head and saw nothing, again. He was starting to feel angry and stopped.
"Who are you?" His voice sounded peculiar in the silence of the forest, and he could almost hear laughter in the distance.
He was replied by the accustomed silence.
Or was he? He started walking at the sound of a familiar female voice; his walking turned to a run, as the voice appeared to be fading off. Where? He asked the forest wordlessly as he ran over rocks and roots and decaying wood. There. It answered back, and the trees opened up to reveal an illuminated clearing. He halted abruptly at the edge; his eyes steady on the two humans that stood alone at its center.
Well, one human, the other was clothed in a billowing black shroud, looming over the human. They appeared to be conversing violently about something, but Harry wasn't close enough to hear. So he walked closer. If he had been in his right mind he probably would have thought of his wand, or even would have thought of creeping nearer. Fortunately the two did not notice his sudden appearance, or were at least ignoring him.
"Answer my question, Tom, why did you want to speak to me? To kill me again?" The human, female, Harry realized, had a mirthless smile on her face. He could feel his heartbeat quicken; her voice was very familiar.
So was the voice of the shrouded one. "To kill you again, no. I trust that my first spell was sufficient enough to last through two lives," he said, his tone remarkably similar to the hiss of a treacherous snake, "but another death can be easily arranged."
Her face was pale yet strong as she kept the man's gaze without flinching. "What do you mean?"
"You know perfectly well what I mean Lily." A forked tongue flicked out of his thin lips in distaste. "My power has returned to its true height and I am steadily correcting all that went wrong after that... delay."
She frowned and didn't answer.
"Oh yes, your son caused me a bit of trouble all those years, as you fully know. But he is weak, Lily, and has not come to understand the meaning of power as I have. Only luck has helped him these past years, and luck easily runs out." He emitted a dark chuckle, "Especially when one finds the weakness of the wielder of the luck."
"It sounds like you are not trying to convince me, but yourself."
Some part inside of Harry quivered at the expression that entered the man's eyes. "I do not find that amusing, Lily," he replied with a quiet deadliness after some time.
"It wasn't meant to be, Tom." The way she said 'Tom' made the name seem more like an insult than a form of address.
"No more am I Tom, I am Lord Voldemort."
Shaking her head she smiled briefly. "You will always be Tom to me."
"And why is that?"
"Because even now I see in you the uncertainty of the boy who would wander the corridors of Hogwarts, wanting desperately to find a way to prove himself to those who looked down on him, and to impress those who looked up. You haven't changed, Tom, even under that mask of superiority, you haven't changed."
Harry could see the back of the man grow rigid in undisguised anger, and then the sudden realization of who were standing before him hit him like a block of ice. He was almost surprised when they both didn't react to his faint but audible gasp.
A wand had appeared in Voldemort's hand, and he pointed it towards her. "No more Lily, no more."
On a sudden impulse, Harry leaped in front of his mother, intending to ward off any attacks. They both stared at him for a moment, and he found himself staring straight into the steadfast eyes of the ruthless killer.
"Harry..." He shuddered at the sound of his name on Voldemort's tongue. "...Afraid that I will hurt your mother, is that it, Harry?"
He watched the man defiantly after finding that his mouth was too dry with fear to answer.
A chilling laugh filled the empty space of Harry's silence. "Look at her Harry, I've already done to her what was needed, you should be worried for your own well-being." Voldemort looked past the Harry, smiling with contempt. "When do you think he'll find out the truth, Lily? Will you tell him? Will those bumbling idiots at Hogwarts?"
"James--"
"Was a living fool and now is a dead fool, as were you to have joined in his fate," Voldemort interrupted smoothly. "And because of your foolishness Harry will soon join you where only the dead can go. Goodbye Lily, I have nothing more to discuss with you." He lifted his wand and a golden spark erupted from its end to shoot over Harry's head.
Hearing a soft cry he turned quickly around, "Mum!" to see that his mother was gone. He turned back to see that Voldemort was watching him. Anger rose up in him as he met Voldemort eye to eye, he was the first to look away.
"And so Harry, we meet again. But I think I will not kill you now, no, it's not fair to kill an unarmed opponent, don't you agree Harry? All of my other victims always went down with some chance of survival, as thin as the survival was.
"Remember when I once told you that you did not have to die? Yes? Well it was true then. Your mother did fight bravely for you, and your father died like the imbecile he was. You had a chance of living, Harry, but your father took it away from you when he took something away from me."
He would have been interested at the sudden expression of hate that went across the wizard's face, if the wand hadn't been pointing straight to his head.
"Yes I killed many, but for a good cause, power. Power is everything, Harry, never let anyone tell you differently, for they are wrong."
Harry blinked. The wand was gone, and now there was only Voldemort standing there in a robe of black infinity, acting for all as if they were not in a forest but in a classroom, Voldemort the patient teacher and Harry the ignorant student.
"Your father was merely an obstacle in my plans, an annoying one, but an object that could be disposed of with the proper tools. All things can be disposed of Harry, if only one has the correct methods and ways at hand."
Unspeakable rage was swiftly pushing away all common sense as he listened without listening, knowing without knowing, it was as if his body was in the control of someone else, someone besides Harry....
Power is all one needs to live, forget your family, forget your friends, think only of power. Your father was nothing, forget him, he is only reason for living was to be destroyed....
Unconsciously Harry knew that Voldemort had stopped talking and was now watching him with an odd smile of satisfaction on his face. He couldn't stand it, he tried to break free, tried to take back his self will....
"You killed my father!" He yelled at the taunting face of the murderer of his parents and many other wizards and witches.
The smile widened, and as Harry's vision reeled, he remembered a quote he had heard on a show that Dudley had been watching the other day on TV.
"Luke, I am your father."
Harry screamed as a searing pain went through his forehead and his sight went black, and as he opened his eyes to the see the cracked ceiling of his bedroom on number four, Privet Drive.
Disclaimer DONE. YAY!
Also, note. If you've already read this before, then I want to point out that about three or so paragraphs of this first chapter have been changed to fit the release of the fifth book. I didn't want to continue on writing a fic that was out of date, so I changed it. *Grin* Me a perfectionist (sort of) and me proud of it!
Well, R&R if you want - I LOVE constructive criticisms, so please give them if you have them! However, I don't appreciate flames because I find them pointless and unnecessary, thank you very much.
Well, enjoy!
-~-~-~-~-
It was summer. The season Harry disliked most, which though was unusual for a student, was not something that he had pulled out of thin air. For in the summer Harry had to stay with his uncle, aunt, and cousin, the Dursleys. He was a wizard and they were muggles and wizard-haters, not a perfect combination to make a peaceful household. And though he had grown up in the home of the Dursleys, his school, Hogwarts, had always felt like more of the home he could have had if his parents had not been killed. And the teachers and students were his family. Sickeningly sentimental, but very true to his feelings.
So each summer he returned to the Dursleys, even though the events of the past year had escalated so that even the meager tie of blood that had held magical protection for Harry in the past seemed dubious. For, as any diligent reader of Harry Potter knows, the last summer had brought with it the arrival of two Dementors, of all things, on Privet Drive. The school year had brought worse. It had brought with its passing the death of his beloved godfather, Sirius Black, as well as the assurance of Voldemort's vast powers.
Professor Dumbledore wasn't taking any chances.
Understand that Harry was very happy that Professor Dumbledore wasn't taking chances with Harry's life...however, although the summers had been increasingly better in respect to how the Dursleys treated him, it was difficult to do summer activities while the whole world, both wizards and muggles alike, were in danger. Unlike last year he was not necessarily angry about being put into the relative safety of the Dursleys home, but he was edgy.
The only thing that kept him from flying off the walls was that a few days ago he had received a letter from Professor Lupin, within which there was a hint of an 'unexpected arrival'. Although it could possibly Lupin himself, Harry didn't think it would be. And naturally Harry immediately was of the opinion that someone, or perhaps a whole bunch of someones like the year before, was going to come for him.
So at day he was preoccupied with staying out of the Dursleys way and wondering about whom was going to come. At night he tossed and turned in his bed, dreams of unpleasant nature disturbing his mind. All in all, it was a rather typical summer for the legendary orphan.
It was around midnight, the periodic snores of Dudley from the other room occasionally breaking the serene silence that had come with the darkness of night. Harry as usual was having trouble going to sleep, partly because of the before mentioned snores and partly because of his own troubled thoughts.
The subject of Voldemort had been on his mind constantly ever since leaving Hogwarts. Even though he had only come face to face with the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord's followers during the school term, he always felt safer when being there, with Dumbledore and the other professors nearby. But at Privet Drive he was practically alone. One can't count the Dursleys in the matter of magic and would be useless if ever they were confronted by the dark arts. No, Harry was alone among the worst muggles that had ever been born, and who knew where Voldemort was or what his plans were? He could be still in the graveyard of his father's, or somewhere else entirely.
He lay, staring at the ceiling, mentally tracing the hairline cracks in the plaster, the cracking of old paint in the corners, and slowly he became drowsy. Reluctantly his eyes finally closed and it took only a moment for him to fall asleep.
It was dark. That was the first thing Harry noticed as he walked along on a cold path of stone. It was dark and threatening, like a predator awaiting its prey, thought Harry suddenly. He attempted looking forward and then to either side of him, but all he could see was the darkness that hung suspended around him, ready to pounce on him, to attack with shadowy claws.
Involuntarily he shivered, no, shadowy teeth. A poisonous snake coiling its away around me, just waiting to be released. He shivered again, hugging his arms about him, feeling the coldness of fear creeping up in him, trying to fight it away. He thought for a moment that he felt a pair of slitted eyes watching him from behind him, and he turned quickly around to see only the predictable darkness. Nothing's there....
It seemed like hours before he stumbled off the stone path and into a forest that was only slightly lighter than the darkness he had just come out of. Harry did not look back, but continued on, threading his way through the thick trunks of tall trees, just as forbidding as the darkness.
The sounds of slithering near his side, and he turned his head quickly and saw nothing. A mocking hiss from his other side, again he turned his head and saw nothing, again. He was starting to feel angry and stopped.
"Who are you?" His voice sounded peculiar in the silence of the forest, and he could almost hear laughter in the distance.
He was replied by the accustomed silence.
Or was he? He started walking at the sound of a familiar female voice; his walking turned to a run, as the voice appeared to be fading off. Where? He asked the forest wordlessly as he ran over rocks and roots and decaying wood. There. It answered back, and the trees opened up to reveal an illuminated clearing. He halted abruptly at the edge; his eyes steady on the two humans that stood alone at its center.
Well, one human, the other was clothed in a billowing black shroud, looming over the human. They appeared to be conversing violently about something, but Harry wasn't close enough to hear. So he walked closer. If he had been in his right mind he probably would have thought of his wand, or even would have thought of creeping nearer. Fortunately the two did not notice his sudden appearance, or were at least ignoring him.
"Answer my question, Tom, why did you want to speak to me? To kill me again?" The human, female, Harry realized, had a mirthless smile on her face. He could feel his heartbeat quicken; her voice was very familiar.
So was the voice of the shrouded one. "To kill you again, no. I trust that my first spell was sufficient enough to last through two lives," he said, his tone remarkably similar to the hiss of a treacherous snake, "but another death can be easily arranged."
Her face was pale yet strong as she kept the man's gaze without flinching. "What do you mean?"
"You know perfectly well what I mean Lily." A forked tongue flicked out of his thin lips in distaste. "My power has returned to its true height and I am steadily correcting all that went wrong after that... delay."
She frowned and didn't answer.
"Oh yes, your son caused me a bit of trouble all those years, as you fully know. But he is weak, Lily, and has not come to understand the meaning of power as I have. Only luck has helped him these past years, and luck easily runs out." He emitted a dark chuckle, "Especially when one finds the weakness of the wielder of the luck."
"It sounds like you are not trying to convince me, but yourself."
Some part inside of Harry quivered at the expression that entered the man's eyes. "I do not find that amusing, Lily," he replied with a quiet deadliness after some time.
"It wasn't meant to be, Tom." The way she said 'Tom' made the name seem more like an insult than a form of address.
"No more am I Tom, I am Lord Voldemort."
Shaking her head she smiled briefly. "You will always be Tom to me."
"And why is that?"
"Because even now I see in you the uncertainty of the boy who would wander the corridors of Hogwarts, wanting desperately to find a way to prove himself to those who looked down on him, and to impress those who looked up. You haven't changed, Tom, even under that mask of superiority, you haven't changed."
Harry could see the back of the man grow rigid in undisguised anger, and then the sudden realization of who were standing before him hit him like a block of ice. He was almost surprised when they both didn't react to his faint but audible gasp.
A wand had appeared in Voldemort's hand, and he pointed it towards her. "No more Lily, no more."
On a sudden impulse, Harry leaped in front of his mother, intending to ward off any attacks. They both stared at him for a moment, and he found himself staring straight into the steadfast eyes of the ruthless killer.
"Harry..." He shuddered at the sound of his name on Voldemort's tongue. "...Afraid that I will hurt your mother, is that it, Harry?"
He watched the man defiantly after finding that his mouth was too dry with fear to answer.
A chilling laugh filled the empty space of Harry's silence. "Look at her Harry, I've already done to her what was needed, you should be worried for your own well-being." Voldemort looked past the Harry, smiling with contempt. "When do you think he'll find out the truth, Lily? Will you tell him? Will those bumbling idiots at Hogwarts?"
"James--"
"Was a living fool and now is a dead fool, as were you to have joined in his fate," Voldemort interrupted smoothly. "And because of your foolishness Harry will soon join you where only the dead can go. Goodbye Lily, I have nothing more to discuss with you." He lifted his wand and a golden spark erupted from its end to shoot over Harry's head.
Hearing a soft cry he turned quickly around, "Mum!" to see that his mother was gone. He turned back to see that Voldemort was watching him. Anger rose up in him as he met Voldemort eye to eye, he was the first to look away.
"And so Harry, we meet again. But I think I will not kill you now, no, it's not fair to kill an unarmed opponent, don't you agree Harry? All of my other victims always went down with some chance of survival, as thin as the survival was.
"Remember when I once told you that you did not have to die? Yes? Well it was true then. Your mother did fight bravely for you, and your father died like the imbecile he was. You had a chance of living, Harry, but your father took it away from you when he took something away from me."
He would have been interested at the sudden expression of hate that went across the wizard's face, if the wand hadn't been pointing straight to his head.
"Yes I killed many, but for a good cause, power. Power is everything, Harry, never let anyone tell you differently, for they are wrong."
Harry blinked. The wand was gone, and now there was only Voldemort standing there in a robe of black infinity, acting for all as if they were not in a forest but in a classroom, Voldemort the patient teacher and Harry the ignorant student.
"Your father was merely an obstacle in my plans, an annoying one, but an object that could be disposed of with the proper tools. All things can be disposed of Harry, if only one has the correct methods and ways at hand."
Unspeakable rage was swiftly pushing away all common sense as he listened without listening, knowing without knowing, it was as if his body was in the control of someone else, someone besides Harry....
Power is all one needs to live, forget your family, forget your friends, think only of power. Your father was nothing, forget him, he is only reason for living was to be destroyed....
Unconsciously Harry knew that Voldemort had stopped talking and was now watching him with an odd smile of satisfaction on his face. He couldn't stand it, he tried to break free, tried to take back his self will....
"You killed my father!" He yelled at the taunting face of the murderer of his parents and many other wizards and witches.
The smile widened, and as Harry's vision reeled, he remembered a quote he had heard on a show that Dudley had been watching the other day on TV.
"Luke, I am your father."
Harry screamed as a searing pain went through his forehead and his sight went black, and as he opened his eyes to the see the cracked ceiling of his bedroom on number four, Privet Drive.