Shadowed Sunrise
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter Franchise except for my own original characters and plot ideas.
"Character Speaking"
Character Thinking
Magical Tongue
Spell
Prophecy
Author's Note: This is a revised version of my one-shot story "Shadowed Sunrise". It has been made significantly longer and I hope the ending is more to everyone's liking. I know I enjoy it a lot more. There is still the open ending and I did not include any references towards who got letters nor what the Daily Prophet would print. I'd rather leave that up to your imaginations. If anyone would like to use this improvised version as a base for their own story, you may as long as you cite where you got the idea from. I hope you all enjoy. Please read and review!
Side Note: I may end up revising this again over the next 3 months. It really depends on what happens. Thanks again for reading and reviewing!
Shadowed Sunrise
He was gone. That's all I know. Sirius, my Sirius, was gone. And I'd never get to see him again. I wouldn't get to hear his voice. I wouldn't get to feel his warm hugs. I wouldn't even get to see his smile anymore. Oh Merlin. Sirius. How? Why? Surely I could've done something - I should've done something! Anything! Anything to prevent all of this madness happening. Anything but this!
"Harry."
Huh? I turned to glance up at Professor Dumbledore's face. Has he come to see me in my prison? I doubted my two guards would've let me know I was receiving visitors. Aurors Shacklebolt and "Don't-Call-Me-Nymphadora" Tonks stood guard outside the room I was so graciously given. Hypocrites. Even Remus and Mrs. Weasley were there by his side.
"Yes, Professor?" I spoke quietly and politely. After all, Freaks weren't supposed to be heard.
"Harry. You understand that we are only doing this for your own sake." Professor Dumbledore looked at me. "What you did was foolish and wrong. You lead your friends into a dangerous situation and nearly everyone lost their lives. One of them did lose their life."
I glanced away. "I know. Its my fault."
"You're very lucky that Professor Snape was able to contact us right away."
"Yes, Sir. But I swear to you, I had no idea any of this was going to happen. I wanted to go alone - I told the others to stay here. I swear!"
"Don't talk back to the Headmaster, young man! If you hadn't stopped those lessons of yours, my Ronnie and Ginny would've never gotten hurt!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. Professor Dumbledore held up a hand as if to silence her. She listened but I could tell she wanted to do something to me. In my mind, she looked like an angry lioness and I had just harmed her cubs.
"Be that as it may, Harry. You still have to face the consequences of your actions. I hope that by tomorrow morning, you will come to your senses and see that this decision is truly the best for you." I knew damn well what the consequences for my actions were. I knew before I even left Hogwarts. But no one else would listen. It was as if my voice was silent to them. I suppose it was. After all, I was merely a tool, a weapon for them to use against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. "Please Harry. Just listen to Professor Dumbledore." Remus pleaded. But he wouldn't look me in the eye. "We're only doing this because you'll be safe. Please, Harry, you're the last one in our family." Safety? In Azkaban? With the Dementors everywhere? If this is what the Light side had to offer me, then I no longer wanted a part of it. They knew exactly how those foul creatures affected me. Sending me away to Azkaban on trumped up charges just to appease the ministry? It was madness. Voldemort's offer was looking better and better but I still wouldn't join him even if it meant my death. My death? Now there was something to look forward to.
Perhaps I could put an end to that prophecy even. But it'd take timing. Exact timing and precision. But I had to be patient. I had lived this long to know that good planning required patience. I didn't hear the rest of what was said. But I knew that I was left alone once more. I needed to be very patient with my planning. I had let my Gryffindor side have control for nearly five years. It was time to let my inner Slytherin out.
It'd only be a matter of time before I'd be sent away to Azkaban tomorrow morning. No doubt, my supposed friends would be there to make it clear what my so called choices cost them. Well if that is how they all want to play then so be it. I knew that though I am accused, I am not yet arrested. Innocent until proven guilty. Now I understand Sirius in a much deeper way. Just as Pettigrew betrayed his friendship so have my own friends betrayed mine.
There's not a moment to lose. I knew my two guards are keeping watch outside but neither care to take a glance inside. Softly I called out for Dobby. He appeared and I was grateful to see that he is still my friend despite what has happened all around us. Wasting not a moment, I was quick to ask him for a few sheets of parchment and a blood quill. Even though I've had enough of those foul bloody things to last a lifetime, it was a necessary evil for what I was about to do. I decided to write letters for everyone to read as well as one for Dobby to have publicized in The Daily Prophet. Perhaps this will be the wake up that Wizarding Britain needs to have.
It hurts. It hurts so bloody much but I knew I had to persevere. I had to keep going. Even though my hands felt as if they burned with the skin and muscle being ripped from the bone, my own words being etched into my body. Idly, I wondered if this pain affected Voldemort as much as it did to me. I'd never know. It seemed the connection we had was really only one way and so far, I had no reason to show him any trust yet. Voldemort. such a distasteful name. I'd much prefer to call him Tom. It is his birth name after all. He should've been proud of it, of his heritage. But he's not. He's only proud of half of who he is.
"Dobby."
As quick as ever, Dobby is there to take the letters I had written. I was quick to instruct him that there was a letter to be delivered to The Daily Prophet as well as to Gringotts. Each other letter was for a specific person and that he knew whom to give them to. My last task was to have him bring me the small satchel bag I kept within my trunk. He nodded and was quick to do as I asked. The satchel appeared soon after he left.
Despite my hands and arms bleeding freely and feeling too numb to move, I managed to grasp the bag and pull it close. I rummaged through it before I found what I needed. A single vial of Draught of Living Death. Ideally it would only put me in a deep sleep, a near death-like state. But I knew it'd be a true death given to how my arms were still bleeding from the use of a blood quill.
I didn't give myself time to think. It was now or never. I had spent most of the night writing those letters. The one sent to Gringotts included my will. As the last Potter, I had to do something to protect my family's legacy. I didn't doubt for a second my friends would allow it to sit idly while I sat in Azkaban. After all, I doubt the Malfoys let the Black Fortunes sit idly while Sirius was incarcerated. Just like I would be.
Pausing in my morbid thoughts, I remembered just how my life began. I remembered a gentle face and red hair. My mother. I remember her more than my own father. Though it seems nearly everyone seems convinced they need to tell me about him. I appreciated it but it never filled the void left by her. I supposed it never would. After all how could they tell me about her if they never truly knew her?
I glanced at the vial in my raw hands. A sip and everything would be over. The pain. The frustration. The loneliness. It would all be over. Finally. I uncorked it and was quick to drink it down. As I sat back to face the upcoming sun, I felt a sort of peace I hadn't felt in a long, long time. So I smiled.
It would be a bit after dawn when the Potions Master Severus Snape was sent down to retrieve the young boy. As he stepped towards the room, all he heard was silence. There wasn't even the sound of soft breathing. He knew he shouldn't be concerned but this was Potter after all. He was liable to have gotten away during the night. Once he entered the room, He knew he was wrong. There, lying propped up against the bed's headboard, with pale unseeing eyes and a soft smile was one Harry James Potter. His hands looked to be scratched bloody raw and an opened vial lay near them. Snape was quick to head over and check the boy's vitals, praying his was not too late to save the son of his dearest friend. But he had been. He had failed his promise. They all did, whether they knew it or not. Painfully, Severus lifted up the boy's body and cradled it close. He began the slow walk to the Great Hall, knowing fully well what the implications of Harry Potter's death would mean for not just him but all of them. The Dark Lord's Reign had truly just begun.