Chapter 1: Back to the black
The beating of the torrential rain outside rapped against the glass windows, the only other sound heard beside the pounding feet of Uncle Vernon, as he paced irritably in front of his 15-year-old nephew, Harry Potter.
"You listen boy." Uncle Vernon shot at him, stopping suddenly to glare at Harry through slits in his face where eyes usually lingered. "Your oddities has sent Dudley into hysterics." He growled, running his hands though his moustache. Harry stared blankly back at him. His obvious idea of 'hysterics' was in relation to last years Dementor attack, in which Dudley was almost kissed by the disgusting slimy creature. Harry shivered slightly at the thought. "D'you know what kind of therapy we had to give him to relieve our son of the memory of those stupid dementy-things?" Uncle Vernon asked.
"Well i expect not many. He'd forget his own name if he--" Harry began, but Uncle Vernon's purpling face was shoved into Harry's. "Shut up you! Because of--of you we have these dementy-things floating around!" he yelled, spit flying from his mouth and sliding down Harry's round black-rimmed glasses.
"Oh. I expect everything is my fault then. Well, i can't go anywhere, we've already made that apparent." Harry said. "So your yelling and temper is getting you absolutely nowhere." Harry said coolly, standing up. Uncle Vernon sputtered, obviously having nothing to say back to this. "So, I'll just be in my room then if you don't mind." And with that Harry exited the Kitchen, and with cat-like movement, ascended the stairs, trying to be as silent as possible. He came to the door of Dudley's room, Harry could hear his heavy breathing, and gazing under the gap of the door, could see him lumbering around his room. As his gigantic feet neared the door, Harry slithered away into his own room, and just in time, the door of Dudley's room creaked open, and Dudley exited. Harry's new fetish was spying on Dudley, for some odd reason it has entertained Harry through the first week of returning from Hogwarts. Harry collapsed on his bed without turning on his light, staring up at the darkened ceiling as the rain continued to beat against the window. It was back to the usual gloom. Being stuck at the Dursleys until someone felt fit that he had been tortured enough, and decided to save him. Harry wondered vaguely how long it would be, he hoped at least before his Birthday. He wanted to enjoy his 16th year with someone who wouldn't award him socks or toothpicks for aging another year. Not that he cared about presents; he just wanted someone to talk to, seeing as he had felt so anti-social after Sirius' death. Harry's stomach clenched as his late-godfather passed though his mind. He sighed and gazed over at Hedwigs empty perch. She had been gone for ages, doing what Harry did not know. The raindrops on the window cast odd shadows on the ceiling as drops of water fell to the ground below. Harry watched the progress of one raindrop with his eyes, it was very comfortable on his bed, Harry yawned and drifted off into sleep...
"IT ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH!" The cold voice yelled, as a man, whimpering on the hearthrug in front of a fireplace sank to his knees.
"I tried my lord! Its not my fault!" He whimpered in a squeaky voice, putting his hands over his head.
"Your attempts are failing Wormtail! I'm getting impatient with your incompetence!" Said the voice of Lord Voldemort, although he was not in sight. "My most valuable men...as well as Woman are in Azkaban, and if you can't so such a simple thing as break them out, I don't see why you should be in legents with me anymore." Wormtail whimpered some more, not even daring to look upon his master.
"They--they had new guards, powerful guards..." Wormtail said quietly.
"AND I GAVE YOU POWERFUL MAGIC!" Shouted Voldemort. A beam of white light shot out of a corner, and connected with Wormtail, he screamed and writhed on the floor, sobbing his apology...
Harry sat bolt upright, his hands clutched over his scar, he was breathing quickly, as though he had just been running, his heart was pounding as he gazed around his room. He could have sworn he was there! Voldemort was there! Wormtail was writhing on the floor. Harry held onto the details of his dream, making sure he didn't forget it. Wormtail was trying to break someone out of Azkaban... It clicked in Harry's mind, like a puzzle piece fitting into its proper place in a puzzle. Wormtail was trying to break the people out of Azkaban who had been put there by the Ministry.... Harry though, staring around his now pitch-black room. His stomach ached with hunger, he hadn't eaten anything...usually he would have written to Sirius about his dream, but he wasn't around anymore...Harry's scar didn't hurt anymore, not that he was stranger to pain. It seemed that his scar was bothering him all the time these days, but this time it had been different, his pain accompanied by a dream. He played it over in his head, making sure he could hold onto the details. Harry stood up and made his way blindly over to his desk, he felt for his light and flicked it on. He was temporarily blinded by the sudden burst of brightness, but blinked several times and rubbed his eyes to rid them of sleep. He uncapped a bottle of ink and dipped his quill in it, and began to scribble on his piece of parchment.
Wormtail and Voldemort in a room..Voldemort Angry with Wormtail because he couldn't break Voldemort's lot out of Azkaban, Voldemort has powerful magic, and is thinking of Breaking ranks with Wormtail... Harry looked over what he wrote, and folded the parchment and placed it into his desk drawer, then gazed over at his clock, it was nearly four in the morning, but Harry felt wide awake. Harry half wanted to write a letter to his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, both of whom Harry had not spoken to since their departure from Kings Cross station. But what would he say? It would be pointless to tell them that his scar had been hurting, and how would he describe the dream in a letter?
Dear Don,
My scar's been hurting and i had an odd dream, Voldemort and Wormtail were in it.
Sincerely,
Harry
The letter sounded stupid, even in his own head. He would just have to wait until he saw them again, which in his case could be ages... Harry lay back on his bed and placed his glasses on his bedside table, and shut his eyes, trying to drift back off to sleep. But his previous dream was still nagging at him in the back of his head. Would he re-visit this place with Voldemort and Wormtail? Where were Voldemort and Wormtail? Harry rolled over and gazed out his bedroom window, a dull grey sky was just visible through the haze, it seemed that rain was again on the way. Shutting his eyes tight, Harry was finally able to drift off to sleep. This time no dreams of Voldemort came to him, instead he was visited by dreams of Dudley's head, pig-like as it already was, had turned completely into a pink-squealing pig....
"Get up!" Shouted a voice in Harry's ear. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. His eyes burst open and he rolled over onto his back. Disoriented in the dark, he fell out of his bed and hit the floor with a dull thump.
"Wassamatter?" Harry said, sitting up from his place on the floor. A blurred figure stood in front of him, Harry could just make his black hair and pale face, and a horrible thought crossed his mind.
"Snape?" Harry croaked, reaching for his glasses and placing them on his face. Snape came into sharper view. His greasy black hair fell over his pale face, which was twisted into a look of great dislike. He, for once was not wearing his black robes, but instead was dressed in a black Macintosh and big boots.
"That's Professor Snape to you Potter. I'm still your teacher even if we are out of school. Now get up, we haven't got all day." He snapped. Harry stood up and piled his bed sheets back onto his bed, and slid past Snape to flick on his light. Snape jumped horribly, nearly falling over.
"What was THAT?" Snape Yelled, looking wildly around for the source of the light. Harry smirked,
"That would be a light bulb," he said pointing to the ceiling "It is run off of Electricity." Snape glared at Harry, obviously having nothing knifings to say about this. Harry meanwhile was walking about his room, throwing the items strewn about back into his trunk.
"Can't you move any faster?" Snape said coldly, watching his progress.
"No. I can't. And as you have disinclined to help, I will have to do it by hand." Harry said, not looking at Snape. Harry placed his last book inside of his trunk and closed the lid and locked it. Since he was still in the clothes he had worn the previous day, he wouldn't bother getting dressed.
"There. I'm packed." Harry said shortly. It had suddenly occurred to him that he had never asked Snape why he was standing in Harry's bedroom.
"Why are you here?" Harry blurted out, his brain not fully forming around his question. Snape narrowed his eyes, as if his thought were giving him a bad stomachache.
"I was sent by the order, Potter. And believe me, I have no pleasure in retrieving you. But everyone else was busy this morning, and I was the only one who had an open slot. I don't know why they even want you at Grimmauld place, why they must succumb to your every whim. But I suppose being 'famous Harry Potter' means that everyone must go out of their way to do things for you." Snape said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Felling that his question was sufficiently answered, Harry picked up the end of his trunk and dragged it over to the door.
"I certainly hope the Dursleys know your here." Harry said quietly.
"Of course they do Potter, don't be stupid. But of course, that would be hard for you." Snape said, barring his yellowing teeth. Harry decided to ignore Snape. He felt he was too mature to be put down by petty insults. Harry Dragged his trunk down the hall. Uncle Vernon was standing at the opposite end with his back to him, obviously on the pretext of straightening a picture. But Harry recalled that the picture hanging there had been nailed to the wall to ensure it would not move, and unless Harry was mistaken, it took mere minutes to straighten pictures, and Harry was sure that Uncle Vernon had been standing there for a long time. Snape strode behind him, looking around the hall as if he were highly interested. Uncle Vernon turned as if he had just noticed someone was behind him.
"You can let yourself out..." He muttered, turning back to the picture.
"I will be sure to." Snape said. Harry turned the corner and dragged his trunk down the stairs, the trunk made an odd thump as it fell on each individual step. Over the sound of the trunk, Harry could hear an odd scuffling noise coming from the next room, upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, the source of this noise became apparent. It seemed that Dudley was flitting around trying to avoid Snape. And frankly, Harry didn't blame him for doing so. Snape came down the stairs after him and swept past him to the door.
"How are we going?" Harry asked him, sweating slightly, his back aching from hulling his heavy trunk down a flight of stairs.
"Port key. That's why you must MOVE." Snape snapped, striding over and grabbing the opposite and of Harry's trunk and pulling it towards the door for him.
"There. You make everything so difficult don't you?" Snape said coldly shoving his trunk out the door onto the rain-soaked front walk. Harry chose to remain silent; he was still contemplating how they were going to travel by portkey in a populated neighbourhood. Snape disappeared out the front door, and re-appeared a moment later holding a bottle of what seemed to be Ogden's old Firewhisky.
"Come on its a wonder how you ever make it to class on time. If you don't get over here right now, I'll leave without you without loosing any sleep over it!" Snape called to him. Harry strode irritably over to him.
"Out here..." Snape said turning and walking out into the front garden. It was still pouring outside. Harry grabbed the end of his trunk and pulled it out next to Snape, wishing he 'd thought to put on a coat. Snapped held out the heck of the bottle to him, and Harry put his index finger on it, while still holing onto his trunk. They both stood, being soaked to bone by the pounding rain, Harry realised how stupid it would look if someone were to catch site of them. A boy and a Man standing in the middle of someone's front garden holding a bottle. One minute past, then another.
"Are you sure you set it up right?" Harry asked, shivering so violently that he was having a hard time holding onto the bottle.
"Yes of course I did Potter!" Snape Snarled, his teeth chattering. Suddenly, Harry felt a sudden thrust somewhere about his naval, he was being yanked backwards, and his hand seemed to be stuck to the bottle. He could see Snape standing in front of him, his eye shuts tight, they were flying backwards at a dizzyingly fast speed, as sudden as it can come, it stopped. Harry fell hard on his back, rain poured onto his face spattering his glasses.
"Number Four Grimmauld Place." Snape's voice recited off to Harry's left. Harry couldn't help but grin although he had just been thrown headfirst into the mud. He was back at the Black family home.
The beating of the torrential rain outside rapped against the glass windows, the only other sound heard beside the pounding feet of Uncle Vernon, as he paced irritably in front of his 15-year-old nephew, Harry Potter.
"You listen boy." Uncle Vernon shot at him, stopping suddenly to glare at Harry through slits in his face where eyes usually lingered. "Your oddities has sent Dudley into hysterics." He growled, running his hands though his moustache. Harry stared blankly back at him. His obvious idea of 'hysterics' was in relation to last years Dementor attack, in which Dudley was almost kissed by the disgusting slimy creature. Harry shivered slightly at the thought. "D'you know what kind of therapy we had to give him to relieve our son of the memory of those stupid dementy-things?" Uncle Vernon asked.
"Well i expect not many. He'd forget his own name if he--" Harry began, but Uncle Vernon's purpling face was shoved into Harry's. "Shut up you! Because of--of you we have these dementy-things floating around!" he yelled, spit flying from his mouth and sliding down Harry's round black-rimmed glasses.
"Oh. I expect everything is my fault then. Well, i can't go anywhere, we've already made that apparent." Harry said. "So your yelling and temper is getting you absolutely nowhere." Harry said coolly, standing up. Uncle Vernon sputtered, obviously having nothing to say back to this. "So, I'll just be in my room then if you don't mind." And with that Harry exited the Kitchen, and with cat-like movement, ascended the stairs, trying to be as silent as possible. He came to the door of Dudley's room, Harry could hear his heavy breathing, and gazing under the gap of the door, could see him lumbering around his room. As his gigantic feet neared the door, Harry slithered away into his own room, and just in time, the door of Dudley's room creaked open, and Dudley exited. Harry's new fetish was spying on Dudley, for some odd reason it has entertained Harry through the first week of returning from Hogwarts. Harry collapsed on his bed without turning on his light, staring up at the darkened ceiling as the rain continued to beat against the window. It was back to the usual gloom. Being stuck at the Dursleys until someone felt fit that he had been tortured enough, and decided to save him. Harry wondered vaguely how long it would be, he hoped at least before his Birthday. He wanted to enjoy his 16th year with someone who wouldn't award him socks or toothpicks for aging another year. Not that he cared about presents; he just wanted someone to talk to, seeing as he had felt so anti-social after Sirius' death. Harry's stomach clenched as his late-godfather passed though his mind. He sighed and gazed over at Hedwigs empty perch. She had been gone for ages, doing what Harry did not know. The raindrops on the window cast odd shadows on the ceiling as drops of water fell to the ground below. Harry watched the progress of one raindrop with his eyes, it was very comfortable on his bed, Harry yawned and drifted off into sleep...
"IT ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH!" The cold voice yelled, as a man, whimpering on the hearthrug in front of a fireplace sank to his knees.
"I tried my lord! Its not my fault!" He whimpered in a squeaky voice, putting his hands over his head.
"Your attempts are failing Wormtail! I'm getting impatient with your incompetence!" Said the voice of Lord Voldemort, although he was not in sight. "My most valuable men...as well as Woman are in Azkaban, and if you can't so such a simple thing as break them out, I don't see why you should be in legents with me anymore." Wormtail whimpered some more, not even daring to look upon his master.
"They--they had new guards, powerful guards..." Wormtail said quietly.
"AND I GAVE YOU POWERFUL MAGIC!" Shouted Voldemort. A beam of white light shot out of a corner, and connected with Wormtail, he screamed and writhed on the floor, sobbing his apology...
Harry sat bolt upright, his hands clutched over his scar, he was breathing quickly, as though he had just been running, his heart was pounding as he gazed around his room. He could have sworn he was there! Voldemort was there! Wormtail was writhing on the floor. Harry held onto the details of his dream, making sure he didn't forget it. Wormtail was trying to break someone out of Azkaban... It clicked in Harry's mind, like a puzzle piece fitting into its proper place in a puzzle. Wormtail was trying to break the people out of Azkaban who had been put there by the Ministry.... Harry though, staring around his now pitch-black room. His stomach ached with hunger, he hadn't eaten anything...usually he would have written to Sirius about his dream, but he wasn't around anymore...Harry's scar didn't hurt anymore, not that he was stranger to pain. It seemed that his scar was bothering him all the time these days, but this time it had been different, his pain accompanied by a dream. He played it over in his head, making sure he could hold onto the details. Harry stood up and made his way blindly over to his desk, he felt for his light and flicked it on. He was temporarily blinded by the sudden burst of brightness, but blinked several times and rubbed his eyes to rid them of sleep. He uncapped a bottle of ink and dipped his quill in it, and began to scribble on his piece of parchment.
Wormtail and Voldemort in a room..Voldemort Angry with Wormtail because he couldn't break Voldemort's lot out of Azkaban, Voldemort has powerful magic, and is thinking of Breaking ranks with Wormtail... Harry looked over what he wrote, and folded the parchment and placed it into his desk drawer, then gazed over at his clock, it was nearly four in the morning, but Harry felt wide awake. Harry half wanted to write a letter to his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, both of whom Harry had not spoken to since their departure from Kings Cross station. But what would he say? It would be pointless to tell them that his scar had been hurting, and how would he describe the dream in a letter?
Dear Don,
My scar's been hurting and i had an odd dream, Voldemort and Wormtail were in it.
Sincerely,
Harry
The letter sounded stupid, even in his own head. He would just have to wait until he saw them again, which in his case could be ages... Harry lay back on his bed and placed his glasses on his bedside table, and shut his eyes, trying to drift back off to sleep. But his previous dream was still nagging at him in the back of his head. Would he re-visit this place with Voldemort and Wormtail? Where were Voldemort and Wormtail? Harry rolled over and gazed out his bedroom window, a dull grey sky was just visible through the haze, it seemed that rain was again on the way. Shutting his eyes tight, Harry was finally able to drift off to sleep. This time no dreams of Voldemort came to him, instead he was visited by dreams of Dudley's head, pig-like as it already was, had turned completely into a pink-squealing pig....
"Get up!" Shouted a voice in Harry's ear. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. His eyes burst open and he rolled over onto his back. Disoriented in the dark, he fell out of his bed and hit the floor with a dull thump.
"Wassamatter?" Harry said, sitting up from his place on the floor. A blurred figure stood in front of him, Harry could just make his black hair and pale face, and a horrible thought crossed his mind.
"Snape?" Harry croaked, reaching for his glasses and placing them on his face. Snape came into sharper view. His greasy black hair fell over his pale face, which was twisted into a look of great dislike. He, for once was not wearing his black robes, but instead was dressed in a black Macintosh and big boots.
"That's Professor Snape to you Potter. I'm still your teacher even if we are out of school. Now get up, we haven't got all day." He snapped. Harry stood up and piled his bed sheets back onto his bed, and slid past Snape to flick on his light. Snape jumped horribly, nearly falling over.
"What was THAT?" Snape Yelled, looking wildly around for the source of the light. Harry smirked,
"That would be a light bulb," he said pointing to the ceiling "It is run off of Electricity." Snape glared at Harry, obviously having nothing knifings to say about this. Harry meanwhile was walking about his room, throwing the items strewn about back into his trunk.
"Can't you move any faster?" Snape said coldly, watching his progress.
"No. I can't. And as you have disinclined to help, I will have to do it by hand." Harry said, not looking at Snape. Harry placed his last book inside of his trunk and closed the lid and locked it. Since he was still in the clothes he had worn the previous day, he wouldn't bother getting dressed.
"There. I'm packed." Harry said shortly. It had suddenly occurred to him that he had never asked Snape why he was standing in Harry's bedroom.
"Why are you here?" Harry blurted out, his brain not fully forming around his question. Snape narrowed his eyes, as if his thought were giving him a bad stomachache.
"I was sent by the order, Potter. And believe me, I have no pleasure in retrieving you. But everyone else was busy this morning, and I was the only one who had an open slot. I don't know why they even want you at Grimmauld place, why they must succumb to your every whim. But I suppose being 'famous Harry Potter' means that everyone must go out of their way to do things for you." Snape said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Felling that his question was sufficiently answered, Harry picked up the end of his trunk and dragged it over to the door.
"I certainly hope the Dursleys know your here." Harry said quietly.
"Of course they do Potter, don't be stupid. But of course, that would be hard for you." Snape said, barring his yellowing teeth. Harry decided to ignore Snape. He felt he was too mature to be put down by petty insults. Harry Dragged his trunk down the hall. Uncle Vernon was standing at the opposite end with his back to him, obviously on the pretext of straightening a picture. But Harry recalled that the picture hanging there had been nailed to the wall to ensure it would not move, and unless Harry was mistaken, it took mere minutes to straighten pictures, and Harry was sure that Uncle Vernon had been standing there for a long time. Snape strode behind him, looking around the hall as if he were highly interested. Uncle Vernon turned as if he had just noticed someone was behind him.
"You can let yourself out..." He muttered, turning back to the picture.
"I will be sure to." Snape said. Harry turned the corner and dragged his trunk down the stairs, the trunk made an odd thump as it fell on each individual step. Over the sound of the trunk, Harry could hear an odd scuffling noise coming from the next room, upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, the source of this noise became apparent. It seemed that Dudley was flitting around trying to avoid Snape. And frankly, Harry didn't blame him for doing so. Snape came down the stairs after him and swept past him to the door.
"How are we going?" Harry asked him, sweating slightly, his back aching from hulling his heavy trunk down a flight of stairs.
"Port key. That's why you must MOVE." Snape snapped, striding over and grabbing the opposite and of Harry's trunk and pulling it towards the door for him.
"There. You make everything so difficult don't you?" Snape said coldly shoving his trunk out the door onto the rain-soaked front walk. Harry chose to remain silent; he was still contemplating how they were going to travel by portkey in a populated neighbourhood. Snape disappeared out the front door, and re-appeared a moment later holding a bottle of what seemed to be Ogden's old Firewhisky.
"Come on its a wonder how you ever make it to class on time. If you don't get over here right now, I'll leave without you without loosing any sleep over it!" Snape called to him. Harry strode irritably over to him.
"Out here..." Snape said turning and walking out into the front garden. It was still pouring outside. Harry grabbed the end of his trunk and pulled it out next to Snape, wishing he 'd thought to put on a coat. Snapped held out the heck of the bottle to him, and Harry put his index finger on it, while still holing onto his trunk. They both stood, being soaked to bone by the pounding rain, Harry realised how stupid it would look if someone were to catch site of them. A boy and a Man standing in the middle of someone's front garden holding a bottle. One minute past, then another.
"Are you sure you set it up right?" Harry asked, shivering so violently that he was having a hard time holding onto the bottle.
"Yes of course I did Potter!" Snape Snarled, his teeth chattering. Suddenly, Harry felt a sudden thrust somewhere about his naval, he was being yanked backwards, and his hand seemed to be stuck to the bottle. He could see Snape standing in front of him, his eye shuts tight, they were flying backwards at a dizzyingly fast speed, as sudden as it can come, it stopped. Harry fell hard on his back, rain poured onto his face spattering his glasses.
"Number Four Grimmauld Place." Snape's voice recited off to Harry's left. Harry couldn't help but grin although he had just been thrown headfirst into the mud. He was back at the Black family home.