Disclaimer: Well, if you are reading this right now, I assume that you do
have some sort of passion for fanfiction and Harry Potter. And if you think
that I wrote Harry Potter, well.....in the wise words of my friend Angel,
just turn around right now. My name is not J.K. Rowling, nor does it even
begin with a J and there is no way that I will ever be as good a writer as
her or some of the other authors on this site. Have fun reading!
Warning: I am not trying to intentionally hurt all of you fanfiction fans with my terrible ideas.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
SHRINE TO DREAMTIME
Chapter 1: Lights Go Out
Lights go out and I can't be saved.
In all the twists and turns of human emotions in the universe, one thing never changes: fear. Even when it's all done, finished, fear still remains. It lingers in the depths of the mind, dark black voids which memory skims over. And only when the sparks of the daily conscience at the surface have dimmed does fear arise. It builds through the void and escapes in spurts, vomiting pestilence all over a vulnerable and tender mind invoking panic, and power, beyond control.
With a flash of green light and the sudden dimming of silver-grey eyes in the dark aftermath, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, awoke from yet another nightmare.
Kicking off the light sheet, he arose and walked over to the window to open it shivering a little as the cool night air kissed the small beads of sweat in the pores of his skin. The clock by his bedside read 5:00 a.m. It was the last day of summer and tomorrow Harry would be on the Hogwarts Express with his two best friends travelling to his home. Maybe then, he thought, as he glanced at the full moon, the nightmares would end.
The evil voice echoed in his head again, "Kill the spare," a voice dripping with malice and hatred. This dream, however, had been different. Harry vaguely remembered the details and with each passing moment, the dream seemed to slip away from him. All he knew was that Lord Voldemort had murdered, yet again. The unusual thing was that in the darkness behind the origin of the curse, Harry had seen two silver-grey eyes alight with an inner fire that was extinguished at the moment it was performed.
Shrugging and stretching his cramped muscles, Harry began to get ready to head downstairs to make breakfast. The Dursley's had been making him do all the housecleaning and yard work as recompense for the damage caused to the living last summer. Number 4 at Privet Drive was not a large house, but the workload was punctuated with Dudley's frequent parties (an exchange for the unattainable outrageous number of presents). Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon often went out during Dudley's parties leaving Harry with all the tough Smelting bullies who watched him dangerously staring him up and down and licking their lips as he went about cooking and cleaning.
'It has definitely been on of the worst summers ever' thought Harry.
To top it all, Ron and Hermione had not been writing as frequently as usual. It seems Hermione had gone to spend time with the Weasleys and Dumbledore would not allow them to come and rescue Harry. Something about his being safest with his aunt and uncle. Harry really did not see the logic in that argument. He was rapidly losing weight from being underfed and working so much and Vernon had developed a strange enjoyment in physically hurting Harry. It was those nightmares, however, that stressed him out the most. Constant thoughts of Cedric, the shadows of his Mum and Dad, and the knowledge that each of his dreams about Voldemort were actually real and happening at that very moment. Harry wished for anything to stop the pain and evil in his life. He needed happiness, freedom, and especially love.
Perhaps it was the unique tone in their letters, or the fact that they scarcely wrote, but something gave Harry the impression that Ron and Hermione were having a lot more fun together without him than he was.
Harry was jerked out of his train of thought as Uncle Vernon thundered down the stairs to a hot breakfast already waiting. This last week of the summer, Aunt Petunia and Dudley had gone to visit Uncle Vernon's mother. Harry uncle, who could not take time off from work, had no qualms about taking advantage of his physical strength. Ever since Professor Dumbledore had written a letter to the Dursley's about the events surrounding Cedric's death, Vernon no longer was afraid of his nephew, who, without his magic and his godfather, was weak and useless. Numerous times, the skin had been stripped off Harry's back peeling in shreds as Uncle Vernon's leather belt tore through him. After a while, the yells began to cease and pain became a steady pulsating way of life for Harry. This was unfortunate as Vernon took great delight in the cries of pain. Aunt Petunia and Dudley's removal had opened the door to a whole new torture as Uncle Vernon held back none of his rage. Without Petunia to keep him in check, Harry had been forced to serve Vernon drink after drink, aphrodisiacs to his uncle's temper.
After breakfast, Uncle Vernon stormed out of the house, but not before delivering a couple hard cuffs to Harry's head. "Don't you be messing up or damaging the house while I'm gone, boy! D'you hear? I want everything in perfect order when I come back and my drink waiting for me!" With that he slapped Harry's cheek, which flung his glasses off his face and thundered out the door.
Harry, eyes burning with shame, picked up his glasses and went up to the bathroom. As he stripped his clothes, peeling the cloth fro the sensitive skin still healing on his back, he happened to glance at his reflection in the mirror. Instead of Harry Potter, Boy Hero, he saw a scrawny skeleton. He was sure that it was not natural for so many of his ribs to penetrate the skin so sharply and the black hollows under his eyes gave his face a haunting look. But most terrible of all was the intricate pattern of silvery-white scars, old combined with new, weaving their way throughout the fresh and raw cuts from the night before. These were enhanced by the glowing emerald orbs. Never had anyone's eyes reflected a more ghostly soul.
Each hit had crumbled the already fading remnants of walls of determination and will within Harry. He was a murderer, there was no denying the truth. If he had never been born, both Cedric and his parents would still be alive. Turning from the mirror, Harry stepped over to the bathtub, turned on the water, and watched it fill up. When it was ready, he stepped into the tub and lowered himself into the boiling heat, wincing at the tingling of the bloody wounds on his frail body.
Tides that I tried to swim against.
He took a deep breath, lay back, and dreamt of death.
Confusion never stops.
'This is the end' thought Harry. 'I will join my parents, if they still want a murderer for a son. I'll finally be free'.
Suddenly, a sharp pain entered his scar, consuming his whole body and Harry sprang up from underneath the water. Struggling, he managed to climb out of the bathtub just before he passed out on the floor.
Closing walls.and ticking clocks.
************
A door slammed. "Boy! Where's my drink? Where the hell are you?"
Footsteps thundered up the stairs and Harry's groggy brain just managed to register what was happening before Vernon bashed open the door, took one look at Harry and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Vernon dragged him downstairs and threw him onto the ground, still naked. Then beginning to bellow at Harry, "THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR YOU FILTHY LITTLE BEAST!!!", Vernon began pulling bottle after bottle out of the wine cupboard, plastering himself all the while kicking Harry, who was far too weak to move.
Just then, Harry sprang up, mind wide and alert, and started struggling like mad as he felt a heavy weight on top of him. Vernon grabbed his hair and pushed his face into the carpet while holding down his arms behind his back. Harry yelled as he felt the bone break and then started screaming shrilly with what he felt next. A great hardness was pressed up against him and Harry could hear the fumbling of a belt and zipper.
You've got me down upon my knees.
Immediately panic arose in every fibre of his body and despite his broken arm, he pushed himself up with all his effort and began to struggle again. But Vernon was not going to stand for the insolence of his nephew. With a swift movement and all the fuel alcohol provides he slammed home breaking the will and mind, tearing it to shreds and forever wounding the leftover pieces.
Harry screamed, screamed until his voice died and was reduced to murmurs. "Please.no.Uncle Vernon, please..", he mumbled.
Oh, I beg, I beg and plead.
Pounding, pounding, Harry began to go numb, memory after memory of Cedric and the crack of a belt spinning before his eyes, all natural thought lost, vaguely comprehending what was happening. He peered into the void within his mind and after hesitating on the brink of black darkness, plunged in, endlessly falling. Only then did he notice something rising out of the depths to meet him: power. Pure power. It built and built, overflowing out of the void and suddenly, in an explosion of fiery heat and sound, which shattered all the windows, Harry's world went black.
Hundreds of miles away, a beautiful silver-eyed boy on a broomstick plummeted fifty feet towards the earth.
Hundreds of miles away, an ancient bird burst into white blinding flame startling a tired, weary old man.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
And thus concludes the first chapter of my first piece of fiction. I do hope you all liked this first chapter. I am a beginner and new to the world of fanfiction authors (hehe Angel). It really because of my friend Angel that I have made this poor, poor attempt..Read and Review if you please.. ;)
Warning: I am not trying to intentionally hurt all of you fanfiction fans with my terrible ideas.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
SHRINE TO DREAMTIME
Chapter 1: Lights Go Out
Lights go out and I can't be saved.
In all the twists and turns of human emotions in the universe, one thing never changes: fear. Even when it's all done, finished, fear still remains. It lingers in the depths of the mind, dark black voids which memory skims over. And only when the sparks of the daily conscience at the surface have dimmed does fear arise. It builds through the void and escapes in spurts, vomiting pestilence all over a vulnerable and tender mind invoking panic, and power, beyond control.
With a flash of green light and the sudden dimming of silver-grey eyes in the dark aftermath, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, awoke from yet another nightmare.
Kicking off the light sheet, he arose and walked over to the window to open it shivering a little as the cool night air kissed the small beads of sweat in the pores of his skin. The clock by his bedside read 5:00 a.m. It was the last day of summer and tomorrow Harry would be on the Hogwarts Express with his two best friends travelling to his home. Maybe then, he thought, as he glanced at the full moon, the nightmares would end.
The evil voice echoed in his head again, "Kill the spare," a voice dripping with malice and hatred. This dream, however, had been different. Harry vaguely remembered the details and with each passing moment, the dream seemed to slip away from him. All he knew was that Lord Voldemort had murdered, yet again. The unusual thing was that in the darkness behind the origin of the curse, Harry had seen two silver-grey eyes alight with an inner fire that was extinguished at the moment it was performed.
Shrugging and stretching his cramped muscles, Harry began to get ready to head downstairs to make breakfast. The Dursley's had been making him do all the housecleaning and yard work as recompense for the damage caused to the living last summer. Number 4 at Privet Drive was not a large house, but the workload was punctuated with Dudley's frequent parties (an exchange for the unattainable outrageous number of presents). Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon often went out during Dudley's parties leaving Harry with all the tough Smelting bullies who watched him dangerously staring him up and down and licking their lips as he went about cooking and cleaning.
'It has definitely been on of the worst summers ever' thought Harry.
To top it all, Ron and Hermione had not been writing as frequently as usual. It seems Hermione had gone to spend time with the Weasleys and Dumbledore would not allow them to come and rescue Harry. Something about his being safest with his aunt and uncle. Harry really did not see the logic in that argument. He was rapidly losing weight from being underfed and working so much and Vernon had developed a strange enjoyment in physically hurting Harry. It was those nightmares, however, that stressed him out the most. Constant thoughts of Cedric, the shadows of his Mum and Dad, and the knowledge that each of his dreams about Voldemort were actually real and happening at that very moment. Harry wished for anything to stop the pain and evil in his life. He needed happiness, freedom, and especially love.
Perhaps it was the unique tone in their letters, or the fact that they scarcely wrote, but something gave Harry the impression that Ron and Hermione were having a lot more fun together without him than he was.
Harry was jerked out of his train of thought as Uncle Vernon thundered down the stairs to a hot breakfast already waiting. This last week of the summer, Aunt Petunia and Dudley had gone to visit Uncle Vernon's mother. Harry uncle, who could not take time off from work, had no qualms about taking advantage of his physical strength. Ever since Professor Dumbledore had written a letter to the Dursley's about the events surrounding Cedric's death, Vernon no longer was afraid of his nephew, who, without his magic and his godfather, was weak and useless. Numerous times, the skin had been stripped off Harry's back peeling in shreds as Uncle Vernon's leather belt tore through him. After a while, the yells began to cease and pain became a steady pulsating way of life for Harry. This was unfortunate as Vernon took great delight in the cries of pain. Aunt Petunia and Dudley's removal had opened the door to a whole new torture as Uncle Vernon held back none of his rage. Without Petunia to keep him in check, Harry had been forced to serve Vernon drink after drink, aphrodisiacs to his uncle's temper.
After breakfast, Uncle Vernon stormed out of the house, but not before delivering a couple hard cuffs to Harry's head. "Don't you be messing up or damaging the house while I'm gone, boy! D'you hear? I want everything in perfect order when I come back and my drink waiting for me!" With that he slapped Harry's cheek, which flung his glasses off his face and thundered out the door.
Harry, eyes burning with shame, picked up his glasses and went up to the bathroom. As he stripped his clothes, peeling the cloth fro the sensitive skin still healing on his back, he happened to glance at his reflection in the mirror. Instead of Harry Potter, Boy Hero, he saw a scrawny skeleton. He was sure that it was not natural for so many of his ribs to penetrate the skin so sharply and the black hollows under his eyes gave his face a haunting look. But most terrible of all was the intricate pattern of silvery-white scars, old combined with new, weaving their way throughout the fresh and raw cuts from the night before. These were enhanced by the glowing emerald orbs. Never had anyone's eyes reflected a more ghostly soul.
Each hit had crumbled the already fading remnants of walls of determination and will within Harry. He was a murderer, there was no denying the truth. If he had never been born, both Cedric and his parents would still be alive. Turning from the mirror, Harry stepped over to the bathtub, turned on the water, and watched it fill up. When it was ready, he stepped into the tub and lowered himself into the boiling heat, wincing at the tingling of the bloody wounds on his frail body.
Tides that I tried to swim against.
He took a deep breath, lay back, and dreamt of death.
Confusion never stops.
'This is the end' thought Harry. 'I will join my parents, if they still want a murderer for a son. I'll finally be free'.
Suddenly, a sharp pain entered his scar, consuming his whole body and Harry sprang up from underneath the water. Struggling, he managed to climb out of the bathtub just before he passed out on the floor.
Closing walls.and ticking clocks.
************
A door slammed. "Boy! Where's my drink? Where the hell are you?"
Footsteps thundered up the stairs and Harry's groggy brain just managed to register what was happening before Vernon bashed open the door, took one look at Harry and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Vernon dragged him downstairs and threw him onto the ground, still naked. Then beginning to bellow at Harry, "THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR YOU FILTHY LITTLE BEAST!!!", Vernon began pulling bottle after bottle out of the wine cupboard, plastering himself all the while kicking Harry, who was far too weak to move.
Just then, Harry sprang up, mind wide and alert, and started struggling like mad as he felt a heavy weight on top of him. Vernon grabbed his hair and pushed his face into the carpet while holding down his arms behind his back. Harry yelled as he felt the bone break and then started screaming shrilly with what he felt next. A great hardness was pressed up against him and Harry could hear the fumbling of a belt and zipper.
You've got me down upon my knees.
Immediately panic arose in every fibre of his body and despite his broken arm, he pushed himself up with all his effort and began to struggle again. But Vernon was not going to stand for the insolence of his nephew. With a swift movement and all the fuel alcohol provides he slammed home breaking the will and mind, tearing it to shreds and forever wounding the leftover pieces.
Harry screamed, screamed until his voice died and was reduced to murmurs. "Please.no.Uncle Vernon, please..", he mumbled.
Oh, I beg, I beg and plead.
Pounding, pounding, Harry began to go numb, memory after memory of Cedric and the crack of a belt spinning before his eyes, all natural thought lost, vaguely comprehending what was happening. He peered into the void within his mind and after hesitating on the brink of black darkness, plunged in, endlessly falling. Only then did he notice something rising out of the depths to meet him: power. Pure power. It built and built, overflowing out of the void and suddenly, in an explosion of fiery heat and sound, which shattered all the windows, Harry's world went black.
Hundreds of miles away, a beautiful silver-eyed boy on a broomstick plummeted fifty feet towards the earth.
Hundreds of miles away, an ancient bird burst into white blinding flame startling a tired, weary old man.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
And thus concludes the first chapter of my first piece of fiction. I do hope you all liked this first chapter. I am a beginner and new to the world of fanfiction authors (hehe Angel). It really because of my friend Angel that I have made this poor, poor attempt..Read and Review if you please.. ;)