x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x
~?~O B S E S S E D - W I T H - O B L I V I O N~?~
x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended -or- I don't own Harry Potter. Damn.
x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x
STORY'S SUMMARY: (Post-OotP) Some things happen to us that we just want to forget, but that doesn't mean you should. It's hard to accept, but everything happens for a reason, whether you like it or not. After all, death is but the next great adventure. That is, if you're dead.
x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This took forever to get how I liked it, and all of the trial and error did this FanFiction good. I like to thank Sree for being my Beta, Ashley for being my editor, Diamond for helping me research, all of you for reading, and most of all, every Detentionees for just being my friends! Reviews would be greatly appreciated *hint*hint*
x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x
CHAPTER ONE -- Lily's Box
Harry lay sprawled out on the bed in the small room he was given while he was at his aunt and uncle's house. Even though the room was messy with spell books that had been thrown open only to be shut again, wadded up robes and bits of parchment, it was still a very empty space.
Sometimes a room may express the personality of the owner. If you tried to get a better understanding of Harry by seeing where he lived, you'd think he was dead. In this room he existed only to be imprisoned in his morbid and hasty thoughts of unspoken taboos. That's no way to live, but in that room he is safe from the outside world. Although, not from himself.
This 'holiday' was merely an excruciatingly long period of time for him to stew in his own pensiveness. Little Whinging was just a euphemism for an iron cage he returned to each year until his 'holiday' was over and he can return to Hogwarts, his real home. That was all going to change next year, he thought to him self. Next summer he would turn seventeen. Being a legal wizard no force on heaven or on earth was going to keep him in this godforsaken prison.
He reached over to his side table to the last letter he received. It wasn't particularly friendly in any manner, but very simple and short. It didn't matter, because he was leaving this perdition at last.
----------------------------------
20th of July, Noon, Be ready.
----------------------------------
He held the letter in his hands reminding himself that it wasn't a dream. Tomorrow he would see the Weasleys, Hermione, and the rest of the Order. but not Sirius.
Harry rolled over lazily in his bed folding his legs underneath him, for when he didn't they hung several inches off his mattress. All of his things that were hand-me-downs from his cousin, Dudley, were too big, and he had greatly outgrown his bed. This worried him a lot, because he was a Seeker for his house team, Gryffindor. Seekers were supposed to be small and light, but after his sudden growth spurt, on top of the fact he hadn't been on his Firebolt all summer, made him very nervous about Quidditch.
Harry thought he may never fall asleep that night, but as the moon glowed softly in the black velvet sky, he slowly slipped away into an elusive sleep that was of course twisted with his usual nightmares.
x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x
Harry woke with a start the next morning, his dreams got worse each night. He looked at his clock; it was only 6:30, but he didn't have anything to do. His trunk was already packed, and even though he didn't want to have yet another confrontation with the Dursleys, he was starving.
Harry walked down the stairs and past the hall, as he opened the door to the kitchen he thought if he was really quiet maybe they'd leave him alone. No such luck, as soon as he sat down his stomach erupted in angry snarling growls. Uncle Vernon looked at him over his morning paper with his eyebrows raised in his normal manner.
The Dursleys never let him have as much as he wanted, but he did eat. Harry grabbed his stomach that went on like it had a mind of it's own and wished that it would stop hurting. Once Harry gnawed on some toast and bacon the pain seemed to ease away after every bite.
Dudley was heard blundering down the stairs like he did all the time. He avoided looking at Harry as he inhaled his breakfast.
Dudley had done this his whole life, ignore him, yet Harry still couldn't help thinking that he'd changed. Since his return from Hogwarts last summer, he thought that maybe a run in with the dementor had done Dudley some good. His cousin didn't insult him as much as he used to and had begun beating up kids his own age, which for Dudley was quite an improvement.
"Harry," his aunt Petunia said through her horsy teeth from behind her teacup, "I want you to clean out the attic before you leave."
Harry felt like whipping up a snappy remark, but he was anxious to leave Privet Drive and wouldn't mind something to do to pass the time.
Once he was finished with breakfast, he walked up the stairs and opened the door into the attic. It wasn't messy at all. There wasn't even dust. He spotted a few boxes that he could move around and say he cleaned it up. He walked over to the attic window and saw Dudley shining up his new sports car. He wished he could drive away in that beautiful, red car. He stuffed away his thoughts until later as he opened a cardboard box and couldn't believe what he saw. It was a Remembrall gleaming in the strip of light through the window, as if it had been waiting for him to find it.
"What's a Remembrall doing here?" he asked himself, looking around the irritatingly clean attic. He picked up to small glass ball and gave it a squeeze, knowing what its purpose was. The Remembrall just stayed the way it was, there wasn't even the regular white smoke.
"That's strange." He turned it around and examined it till he found the reason it wasn't working.
There was a thin crack along the glass that all of the smoke must have escaped from. It was just a glass sphere now, just a hollow marble.
He looked back into the box and felt his heart jump into his throat. A Potions book was propped up against a small velvet bag of silvery Floo Powder, and there were some clothes thrown into it too. He closed the box and looked for a label. It read 'LILY'.
He felt tears develop in his eyes as he clutched the moldy box to his chest. Next to the enchanted pictures and the haunting mirror, this was the first tangible evidence that his mother even existed. He slumped to the floor and sobbed softly in the dark where no one could see all the weaknesses pouring from his eyes.
He cried for his mother, his father, Cedric, the old man he never knew, Neville's parents, but not Sirius. In his mind Sirius was just playing a prank like he always used to do. No one just slips through a veil and dies. Sirius kept his sanity in Azkaban for twelve years. Not anyone could do that. He actually escaped the Dementors' jail. No one has even come close to succeeding that feat except Sirius. His existence wasn't questionable to Harry.
x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x
~?~O B S E S S E D - W I T H - O B L I V I O N~?~
x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended -or- I don't own Harry Potter. Damn.
x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x
STORY'S SUMMARY: (Post-OotP) Some things happen to us that we just want to forget, but that doesn't mean you should. It's hard to accept, but everything happens for a reason, whether you like it or not. After all, death is but the next great adventure. That is, if you're dead.
x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This took forever to get how I liked it, and all of the trial and error did this FanFiction good. I like to thank Sree for being my Beta, Ashley for being my editor, Diamond for helping me research, all of you for reading, and most of all, every Detentionees for just being my friends! Reviews would be greatly appreciated *hint*hint*
x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x
CHAPTER ONE -- Lily's Box
Harry lay sprawled out on the bed in the small room he was given while he was at his aunt and uncle's house. Even though the room was messy with spell books that had been thrown open only to be shut again, wadded up robes and bits of parchment, it was still a very empty space.
Sometimes a room may express the personality of the owner. If you tried to get a better understanding of Harry by seeing where he lived, you'd think he was dead. In this room he existed only to be imprisoned in his morbid and hasty thoughts of unspoken taboos. That's no way to live, but in that room he is safe from the outside world. Although, not from himself.
This 'holiday' was merely an excruciatingly long period of time for him to stew in his own pensiveness. Little Whinging was just a euphemism for an iron cage he returned to each year until his 'holiday' was over and he can return to Hogwarts, his real home. That was all going to change next year, he thought to him self. Next summer he would turn seventeen. Being a legal wizard no force on heaven or on earth was going to keep him in this godforsaken prison.
He reached over to his side table to the last letter he received. It wasn't particularly friendly in any manner, but very simple and short. It didn't matter, because he was leaving this perdition at last.
----------------------------------
20th of July, Noon, Be ready.
----------------------------------
He held the letter in his hands reminding himself that it wasn't a dream. Tomorrow he would see the Weasleys, Hermione, and the rest of the Order. but not Sirius.
Harry rolled over lazily in his bed folding his legs underneath him, for when he didn't they hung several inches off his mattress. All of his things that were hand-me-downs from his cousin, Dudley, were too big, and he had greatly outgrown his bed. This worried him a lot, because he was a Seeker for his house team, Gryffindor. Seekers were supposed to be small and light, but after his sudden growth spurt, on top of the fact he hadn't been on his Firebolt all summer, made him very nervous about Quidditch.
Harry thought he may never fall asleep that night, but as the moon glowed softly in the black velvet sky, he slowly slipped away into an elusive sleep that was of course twisted with his usual nightmares.
x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x
Harry woke with a start the next morning, his dreams got worse each night. He looked at his clock; it was only 6:30, but he didn't have anything to do. His trunk was already packed, and even though he didn't want to have yet another confrontation with the Dursleys, he was starving.
Harry walked down the stairs and past the hall, as he opened the door to the kitchen he thought if he was really quiet maybe they'd leave him alone. No such luck, as soon as he sat down his stomach erupted in angry snarling growls. Uncle Vernon looked at him over his morning paper with his eyebrows raised in his normal manner.
The Dursleys never let him have as much as he wanted, but he did eat. Harry grabbed his stomach that went on like it had a mind of it's own and wished that it would stop hurting. Once Harry gnawed on some toast and bacon the pain seemed to ease away after every bite.
Dudley was heard blundering down the stairs like he did all the time. He avoided looking at Harry as he inhaled his breakfast.
Dudley had done this his whole life, ignore him, yet Harry still couldn't help thinking that he'd changed. Since his return from Hogwarts last summer, he thought that maybe a run in with the dementor had done Dudley some good. His cousin didn't insult him as much as he used to and had begun beating up kids his own age, which for Dudley was quite an improvement.
"Harry," his aunt Petunia said through her horsy teeth from behind her teacup, "I want you to clean out the attic before you leave."
Harry felt like whipping up a snappy remark, but he was anxious to leave Privet Drive and wouldn't mind something to do to pass the time.
Once he was finished with breakfast, he walked up the stairs and opened the door into the attic. It wasn't messy at all. There wasn't even dust. He spotted a few boxes that he could move around and say he cleaned it up. He walked over to the attic window and saw Dudley shining up his new sports car. He wished he could drive away in that beautiful, red car. He stuffed away his thoughts until later as he opened a cardboard box and couldn't believe what he saw. It was a Remembrall gleaming in the strip of light through the window, as if it had been waiting for him to find it.
"What's a Remembrall doing here?" he asked himself, looking around the irritatingly clean attic. He picked up to small glass ball and gave it a squeeze, knowing what its purpose was. The Remembrall just stayed the way it was, there wasn't even the regular white smoke.
"That's strange." He turned it around and examined it till he found the reason it wasn't working.
There was a thin crack along the glass that all of the smoke must have escaped from. It was just a glass sphere now, just a hollow marble.
He looked back into the box and felt his heart jump into his throat. A Potions book was propped up against a small velvet bag of silvery Floo Powder, and there were some clothes thrown into it too. He closed the box and looked for a label. It read 'LILY'.
He felt tears develop in his eyes as he clutched the moldy box to his chest. Next to the enchanted pictures and the haunting mirror, this was the first tangible evidence that his mother even existed. He slumped to the floor and sobbed softly in the dark where no one could see all the weaknesses pouring from his eyes.
He cried for his mother, his father, Cedric, the old man he never knew, Neville's parents, but not Sirius. In his mind Sirius was just playing a prank like he always used to do. No one just slips through a veil and dies. Sirius kept his sanity in Azkaban for twelve years. Not anyone could do that. He actually escaped the Dementors' jail. No one has even come close to succeeding that feat except Sirius. His existence wasn't questionable to Harry.
x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x X x=?=x
