Author's note: Hi, hello, good evening. If you are reading this and you have read my other fic Light Up the Sky and you're wondering why I haven't updated - have no fear. I am planning on updating soon. I just had a bit of writer's block for a while but I will continue.
I can't say exactly where this story is going, but everything that's happened is basically canon up until the summer after Chamber of Secrets. So it's not AU but it's not all canon-based either, as you'll learn. Also, not all of the chapters will be as short as this one. This will definitely be the shortest I'll ever write. Okay, I am shutting up now.
"Please don't cry, for the ghost and the storm outside
Will not invade this sacred shrine, or infiltrate your mind
My life down I shall lie, if the bogey-man should try
To play tricks on your sacred mind"
- The Hand that Rocks the Cradle, by The Smiths
One time after Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon fell asleep, Harry stayed up and watched a bit of television in the living room. A show came on, about muggles in ludicrously dangerous situations who somehow manage to not die. It was called I Shouldn't Be Alive.
Harry felt like his life was just one thirteen year long episode of that program.
It would be ridiculous to assume that his life was just going to turn around now, like now that he was thirteen everything was going to be fine and dandy. Fools (i.e. optimists) might say that the darkness was in his past, and that he's on his way to a bright future.
He could strongly assure them that any light they see at the end of his tunnel is the headlights of a truck coming to run him over.
September 1st, the first day of school, had many unexpected turns, including dementors, a sullen new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher called Groelin (which didn't sound promising), and Hagrid not meeting them when they got off the train.
If all of these unfortunate things seemed like they could be just coincidence, and not proof that Harry's life was steadily spiraling into a pathetically horrific abyss, Groelin - who was a thin, pale man with dark eyes and dark hair - handing a mysterious box to Snape in a dimly lit corridor should have been an indicator.
"Is this what I think it is?" Snape murmured, dark eyes cast downwards to the large metal container.
"It is," Groelin said curtly.
"Does it have the proper defense mechanisms installed?" Snape asked, his lips barely moving as he looked around the deserted corridor. Harry pressed deeper into the shadows of the archway he was standing in, trying not to breathe.
"The best of the best," Groelin nodded.
They stared at each other for a long moment, dark eyes sizing up dark eyes.
"Very well," Snape said slowly.
They were about to part ways, and Harry had almost gotten away with spying, when a ghost decided to fly out of the wall at that particular moment and chill Harry so badly he jumped forward into the open.
"Potter!" Snape snarled. "What are you doing here? Get to the Gryffindor Common Room immediately, and ten points from Gryffindor for sneaking about the castle!"
Harry hurried back along the corridor and up the stairs, throwing glances back over his shoulder. Groelin and Snape still stood at the end of the corridor beyond the archway, their silhouettes illuminated by the weak torchlight, which reflected off the mysterious metal box in Snape's hands.
What is that?, Harry wondered.
Nothing good, he was sure.
Later that night, Harry sat by the fire in the common room, watching Ron and Hermione bicker over homework while Fred and George entertained everyone by growing mustaches on their fingernails. It should have been a good night. The warmth from the fire should have melted away the icy chill from the dementors, and kept away the cold from the rain outside.
But Harry's thoughts were back in the corridor, watching Groelin hand Snape the box, and seeing the look in Snape's eyes...
Ginny told him a joke about something Professor Sprout did, and he laughed, but his heart wasn't in it. He sometimes remembered that he wasn't responsible for every seemingly suspicious thing that ever happened inside the castle walls, whether it had anything to do with him or not, but sometimes he just needed someone to remind him that not everything was on his shoulders.
And he knew he wasn't alone, despite how it felt when the dementors were near him on the train, when he could feel the happiness draining out of him, being replaced by a bone chilling terror. Looking around the crowded room, logic told him he wasn't alone.
But still he needed something to remind him.
His friends were laughing but his ears were ringing. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, willing his brain to slow down, trying to listen to the torrents of rain battering the windows instead of trying to process too much information.
But while he was trying to calm down, at that very moment, somewhere in the castle, Snape was sitting in the dark of his office, Groelin was skulking in the shadows of the corridors, and a group of six Aurors were storming the castle.
And somewhere at the edge of the sloping grounds, where the grass met the forest, a black dog was crouching in the dark, watching and waiting.
"There'll be blood on the cleaver tonight , and when darknesss lifts and the room is bright
I'll still be by your side, for you are all that matters
And I'll love you to till the day I die"