Harry Potter
And The
Tapestry of Fate
CHAPTER 1
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
No, please, don't! Take me instead; let her live! No – stop, don't do it! Stop it, please, take me – I beg you – don't – stop, no – don't do it – NOOOOOOO!!!" Shrieks and sobs came hysterically. "How could you?! Why didn't you take me?!"
"Foolish Mudblood," a deep voice said. "I won't fall for that again…don't give me that innocent look; yes, I know you know…I've seen you with him, don't deny it; I've read the papers. You're the Heartbreaker, correct? Ha ha, yes, of course. Maybe I can use you after all. It would be so easy to get him; imagine, his best friend –"
"NEVER!" the girl cried fiercely.
"Stupid little girl. You have no choice. If you don't want to help me, I can easily kill you. All filthy Mudbloods like you should be wiped off the face of this earth! I should kill you too, just like I did to your little friend." He hissed to someone or something else.
A slow hiss came in reply, and the man chuckled. "All right then, Nagini, I shall do it. You can have her for breakfast tomorrow." There was a short pause –
"DON'T!!!"
"Avada Kedavr –"
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"
A shrill yell pierced the peaceful, quiet summer night. Harry Potter sat up abruptly in his bed, and his hand flew to his forehead. It was burning with an immense pain, which was worse than he had ever experienced.
On his forehead was a scar, strangely shaped, like a thin bolt of lightening. But that wasn't what was so odd. It was a tragic story on how Harry had received the ugly scar, a reminder of that horrible night in 1981. The night the most fearful wizard in the world came to a certain house in Godric's Hollow, and attacked a well-known wizarding family – the Potters.
Harry had been just a small baby, age 1, and his parents were still young. There had been his father, James: tall, good-looking, with messy hair, glasses, Quidditch captain in his time at Hogwarts, Head Boy, and top trouble maker. His mother, Lily, was a beautiful woman with long, red hair, who had been Head Girl.
It had been a very typical day. Yet when nighttime came around, the Dark Lord arrived and attacked. He killed James first, who hadn't the power to defeat him. And Lily gave her life for her son, a powerful charm to protect him. So when Voldemort used the most treacherous Unforgivable Curse on Harry, it rebounded, leaving Harry the scar, and Voldemort lost his powers and fled.
He had been hiding for years, but finally, in Harry's first year, he went for the Sorcerer's Stone, a blood-red stone, which made gold, and most importantly, caused eternal life. Again, he failed to obtain it, thanks to Harry, his best friends, and Albus Dumbledore, the Hogwarts Headmaster.
Harry met up with Voldemort again, in his second year at Hogwarts, in the Chamber of Secrets, with Voldemort's old, teenager self, Tom Riddle and a deadly Basilisk. Luckily, Harry saved the day again, with the help of Dumbledore's phoenix Fawkes, the Hogwart's Sorting Hat, and Godric Gryffindor's sword.
But last year, he wasn't so lucky. He and Cedric had won the Triwizard Tournament, and as their fingertips reached for the cup, they had no idea it was a Portkey that would transport them straight to Voldemort. Cedric Diggory was killed, and Peter Pettigrew, a traitor who was one of Voldemort's followers, made a powerful potion to make Voldemort live again.
It was the worst thing to ever happen – and only a few people knew the truth.
Harry shuddered. The pain emanating from his scar was unbelievably excruciating. He discovered he was drenched in a cold sweat, he was shaking all over, and his breath was coming in short, uneven gasps. It had been horrible, even worse than the time he had a dream like that last summer. This time, he heard the screams like they were around him, he knew the people, and – and he felt their pain and agony as they died.
He looked at his luminous clock and winced. It was one thirty in the morning, and his scream must have been loud enough to wake up all of England. He saw the dim orange glow from the streetlights streaming in through his curtains on his window, since it was still very dark outside.
The Dursleys had obviously woken up, since he heard loud stomps, obviously coming from his uncle, walking down the hallway, closer to his room. He panicked a bit, and he was considering hiding under the covers and pretend he was still asleep.
Wait – why would he do that? He was a Gryffindor; he was supposed to be brave and courageous. "I've got to face my fears," he whispered to himself. He knew he would have to, since he heard an outraged cry very nearby.
"What's going on?!" The door to his small bedroom in Number 4, Privet Drive, where he lived with his only remaining relatives, was flung open so hard that in nearly flew off it's hinges.
A purple-faced, beefy man, looking rather like an enraged bull, was standing in the doorway. It was Harry's uncle, by marriage, Vernon Dursley, and his anger seemed to instantly fill up the room. His bushy mustache was quivering, and his eyes were ablaze with fury. "You could have woken up the whole neighborhood with that scream!" he bellowed.
Normally, Harry would have been thinking of a quip or something along the lines of, "And your shouts would help them back to sleep?" but this time, he couldn't even answer, due to the fact that his forehead was still as painful as ever. His shaking, sweaty hand reached for his glasses on his nightstand, and he turned on his lamp, all the time keeping his other hand clapped to his forehead.
"What happened?" Petunia Dursley demanded, stalking into the room, pulling on a dressing gown. Her pointy face was reddening.
"HIM!" Vernon roared, raising an accusing finger. "Screamed loud enough to wake the bloody neighbors!"
"I think the Robertson couple has been up all night already," Petunia replied, craning her unusually long neck out of Harry's window.
"Boy – what's the matter with you?!" Vernon was glaring at Harry with the utmost loathing.
"What's going on?" Dudley asked, waddling inside, rubbing his eyes with a porky fist.
"Nothing," Harry lied quickly, taking his hands off his forehead. "Just a bad dream, that's all, go to bed…" The light from his lamp shined on something glistening on his palm. It was sticky and red. He moved his hand to his head, and felt drops of blood trickling down the side.
Petunia gasped and backed into the wall. Vernon protectively covered her, but Dudley was too big to fit behind him also; he had cheated so much on his diet last year that Petunia gave up, insisting to his school, Smeltings, that she'd make his uniform herself since there was no size big enough.
"What?" Harry asked wondrously. "Never seen some blood before?" He peered around the room to see if they were staring at something else, but they gave no reply and went on gaping at his forehead. "Huh?"
Vernon pointed at Harry's scar with horror, and the Dursleys stood stock-still as Harry slowly pulled himself out of bed. He almost tripped on his pajama pants, which used to be Dudley's, but they were still several sizes too large, as he walked to his wardrobe. Slowly, he opened the door and looked in the mirror.
He saw basically what he expected: a teenage boy about fourteen, nearly fifteen, with messy, jet-black hair sticking up everywhere, glittering emerald eyes, and black-framed glasses. In his reflection, he was covered in sweat, with some blood still dripping down, and his face wore an expression of curiosity and puzzlement.
Then in an instant, it changed to pure shock – his scar was glowing bright green.
As unusual as his curse scar was, it had never glowed before, nor had it hurt so much. He blinked once, and then it happened. For a second – one split second – his thin, lightening-shaped scar changed. It became the Dark Mark, the feared symbol Voldemort and his followers, the Death Eaters. It was a horrible skull with a snake coming out of its mouth like a tongue.
Harry blinked disbelievingly; his scar was normal again, with only a faint trace of pain, and a dimmer glow. As he was about to turn away seconds later, the familiar pain shot across his forehead again – he blinked – and he saw a horrible face…with glowing eyes…deathly white skin – it was Voldemort.
He was laughing evilly. It remained for a long time, just glowering at him, with a wicked smile curled on his lips. The high-pitched cackle could be heard, and it eerily echoed off the walls. Harry panicked and in the corner of his eye he saw the horrified Dursleys slowly backing away.
Then as quickly as the laughter came, it vanished, along with the evil face. His scar was fine now, no Dark Marks, evil lord's faces; it wasn't glowing, there wasn't any blood or pain.
Harry was so scared and confused – he felt so dizzy – the room was spinning – his scar was hurting again – hazily, he saw the Dursleys run off in terror – his knees were shaky and he wobbled around – his mind was so jumbled up – and then he fainted.
This chapter was meant to be longer, but I got sick of the introduction explaining that Harry Potter was no normal boy, but a wizard, blah, blah. I also forgot to mention it has some GoF spoilers, but don't kill me. Anyway, who hasn't read all four books?
This is just something I'm experimenting with, so you have to tell me if you like it. It's supposed to be long, with a lot of chapters, like a short book 5 (my version) on another parallel world (Note to self: stop watching Sliders so much), and since I usually get too lazy to complete long stories, I'm going to need your help. I mean, why would I write something that everyone hated? I know it's kind of dumb to do a year 5 when book 4 just came out, but I'm weird, okay?
So please, tell me what you think. If you have any additional comments, email me at: SmileyLizL@aol.com.
Disclaimer: I'm not getting any money off this (but I do accept donations! j/k), and these aren't my characters or places or anything, so you can't sue me! *Does the "Can't Sue Me Dance." (Note to self: cut down on Conan O'Brien and get some sleep. Stop watching so much TV).
Thanks for reading!