Harry Potter and the Test of Faith
by actingflicka
Chapter One: At the Dursleys'
Summary: Harry Potter enters his sixth year at Hogwarts with a hopelessness induced by the death of Sirius Black. Voldemort is steadily gaining power, aided by Peter Pettigrew, and only Harry's friends can help him face his fear and avenge his godfather.
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, and sensuality.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, who is a registered trademark of Joanne Kathleen Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.
Specific Chapter Disclaimer: A section of this chapter has been adapted for use in this fan fiction from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, pages 805 and 806.
Spoilers: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
Author's Note: Well, I have decided to attempt to write a Harry Potter fan fiction. I am also working on a fanfic for Peter Pan, but I am taking a little vacation from it. This fanfic will most likely be a HPHG, DMGW, though I'm not sure about the latter. In any case, reviews, especially ones with constructive criticism, are welcome and appreciated. I will respond to the reviewers periodically, either here, or separately by e-mail.
Special Thanks: Go to Cora Walters, who convinced me to see the new movie, which resulted in me going back into obsessed mode, and re-reading all the books in one night, and then becoming determined to write this fic.
This Chapter is Dedicated to: Paul Frank, whose pajama pants I wore while writing this to keep me comfy during the proofreading.
Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: He was laughing at her. "Come on, you
can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.
The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.
The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.
It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch...
And Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and then fell back into place.
"SIRIUS!" Harry yelled, "SIRIUS!"
As he reached the ground and sprinted towards the dais, Lupin grabbed Harry around the chest, holding him back.
"There's nothing you can do, Harry - "
"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"
"It's too late, Harry - "
"We can still reach him - "
Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Lupin would not let go....
"There's nothing you can do, Harry...nothing...He's gone."
Harry Potter awoke from his nightmare, drenched in cold sweat, mingling with the tears that stained his face. Sirius was gone, and it was all his, all Harry's, fault. He shouldn't have let himself be tricked, he should have listened to Ron and Hermione, he should not have put his friends in so much danger...
Every night Harry was plagued by nightmares about his godfather's death. He would try every night to shut his mind out from nightmares, but his Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape had not trained him sufficiently to wipe away his nightmares.
Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard and quietly sobbing. He wanted more than anything to have an Order member with him, one who could listen to him, who had experience with Voldemort, who could help him cope...someone like Sirius.
Throwing back his worn blankets, Harry flung his feet over the side of the bed and felt around on his nightstand for his glasses. After finding them, he checked his bedside clock. 3:32 AM. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep now.
Harry wandered over to his desk, on which lay a towering pile of homework and a few letters from his friends. Confined to his room for the majority of the summer, with nothing else to do but his homework, Harry had put enough effort into his assignments to rival Hermione. His Potions assignment, which was to identify the ingredients and their purposes for the Draught of Peace, had all the ingredients for the six different variations on the Draught, along with descriptions of their effects.
Hedwig was absent; she had gone off hunting three days ago. She had been bringing him several letters from his wizarding friends; Hermione in particular seemed very worried about him. Her letters always held words of sympathy and condolence, as well as promises and reminders. Harry was grateful for her caring; at least he knew that somebody cared.
Sighing, Harry turned towards the door. He silently opened it a crack, and slipped out into the hallway.
The hall was cold for a summer night, and the bare floorboards chilled Harry's unslippered feet. He headed for the bathroom, thinking that he could sneak in a shower before the Dursley family awoke and crowded the bathrooms.
Harry turned on the warm tap water, and divested himself of his pajamas, now drenched in cold sweat. He stepped into the shower, relishing in the feeling of the warmth in the water. The dirt and tears were swept away in the water, leaving him with a fresh start, a chance to start over...
That's it! thought Harry. I just need some time off. A break from the world.
Harry turned off the water and stepped out of the shower rather quickly, the cold biting his skin as he dried himself off. Then he hurried back to his room, and began haphazardly throwing things into his trunk. This proved a big task, because Harry had not bothered tidying up for quite some time.
As he reached his desk and began packing away his homework, something caught his eye. The letters that Hedwig had brought lay on his desk, and Harry felt a strange desire to pick up the pile and read them. Flopping down on the unmade bed, Harry grabbed the first sheaf of parchment.
Dear Harry,
How is summer going for you? I hope that your aunt and uncle are treating you decently and that you are doing all right. I know this must be terrible for you, but please remember that I am not going to go away. Nor is Ron, or Ginny.
I am worried about you, Harry, and I hope that you are managing yourself. Are you eating and sleeping properly? I miss you so much.
Love from
Hermione
Harry smiled as he thought about his best friend. Typical Hermione, he thought. Always
worrying about me, whether I ate or slept, how I'm doing...
He glanced back at the letter. Wow, did she say that she missed me? Oh, Harry, of course she misses you, she's your best friend...
Truthfully, Harry wasn't so surprised that she missed him. What surprised him was how much he missed her.
An hour later, all of Harry's possessions were stowed in his trunk. He wanted to leave this miserable house, the house that he thought he would be leaving when Sirius had offered...
Don't think about that. Don't think about Sirius. Don't think...Sirius...Don't...think...
Harry slumped back onto the bed, falling into a pool of despair. Why did everyone he cared about have to die? Why? First his parents, then Sirius, who next?
Exhaustion had overcome Harry. Silent, racking sobs continued to shake his body, as he thought of everyone who he had loved, everyone who would suffer at the hands of Lord Voldemort.
The Weasleys...Hagrid...Hermione...
Hermione.
What if Voldemort captured her? What if he never could hold her again? What if she could never scold him for not doing his homework? What if she could never kiss him on the cheek before Quidditch? What if?
Harry suddenly kicked open his trunk, and rummaged for parchment, ink, and a quill. He wiped the tears from his face and dipped the point of his quill into the ink bottle. Only then did he realize what quill it was.
The Luxury eagle-feather quill that Hermione had given him, several Christmases ago.
He gritted his teeth against more tears, and began to write very quickly.
Dear Hermione,
I'm leaving, and I'm not coming back. Please, please don't be angry with me. I have to leave. I know that you would never leave me, and I feel terrible for leaving you. Voldemort cannot know how special you are to me. He will attack you in hopes of making me suffer.
I cannot stay with you, Hermione.
Harry paused, quill in midair. He knew what he was about to write, but he was afraid to put it down on paper. He knew he shouldn't be frightened; after all, he was never going to see her again, so why couldn't he write whatever he wanted, without fear? With this in mind, he continued.
I love you too much.
Harry almost stopped and rubbed out this last line. But he felt that it was important for her to see it. After all, he loved her in a platonic, friendly sort of way. She was the sister that he had never had. He kept writing.
You are everything to me. Ron too. And Ginny. Goodbye.
Love,
Harry
Satisfied with this, he sealed the letter. He would have to wait for Hedwig to find him, but she undoubtedly would. Then...then Hermione would know.
Harry then stowed the items in his trunk, and reached for the handle on the end of it. After dragging it about three feet, Harry groaned. He did not know where he was going, but he would have to get used to carrying it. At least until he was in a Muggle-free place, and he could then use magic.
His hand turned the knob on the door. He looked around one last time, fully prepared to leave this place and not come back.
But as he lugged his trunk down about three steps, he came face-to-face with a very disgruntled-looking Uncle Vernon.
"Where do you think you're going, boy?"
Harry's muscles flexed as he boldly looked at his uncle.
"I'm getting the hell out of here."
"Are your little - " -Uncle Vernon cleared his throat - "abnormal friends coming? I tell you, boy, if they come in through the fire and blast up the place again, I swear I will - "
Harry elbowed past his Uncle and hurtled down the stairs, dragging his trunk behind him.
And a few moments later, he was out in the morning sunshine on Privet Drive.
Author's End Note: Well, that's a start. I don't know when I will have the time to edit this, I am also working on a Peter Pan fanfiction that will need to be completed as well. My guess is every week, about, but knowing me, it will probably extend past that.
Reviews are the best inspiration for me to keep writing. Flames are okay, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? So whether you loved or hated it, let me know! Constructive criticism is the best reward, so let me know about your quibbles.
luv, hugs, and kisses,
actingflicka
