Harry Potter and the Night Mage

It was the summer holidays after the terrible ordeal of losing his godfather that Harry was trying to survive. When he had first arrived back, having caught a cab because the Dursley's had supposedly forgotten about him, the Dursleys were nowhere to be seen and Harry was forced to break into the house by means of picking the lock of the back door. He was glad the Weasley twins had taught him such a handy trick and was filled with sadness at the thought of having to spend the entire summer at his aunt and uncle's place.
Only when he entered did he realise that Dudley and his gang of friends were inside and had locked him out on purpose, as they were all gathered around the television, eating whatever they pleased and smoking. At first Harry wondered whether they were allowed to be there, then they approached scathingly.
"Well, if it isn't our favourite punching bag," sneered one of Dudley's friends. He was short and had a pointed face like a rat.
Harry stared at him in slight surprise. He couldn't recall being called a punching bag since before he had gone to Hogwarts, but, then again, he hadn't run into Dudley's gang since before he turned eleven. He stopped dragging his trunk to the stairs and fought the urge to pull out his wand. There was no need to cause a scene, even though Harry was in dire need of releasing some emotional agony. The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. Neglecting all thoughts of using magic, Harry glared at the rat-faced boy.
"I'm bored," drawled another of Dudley's gang. Harry glanced at Dudley, who was giving him a desperate look behind his friends' backs.
Harry smirked, "I'd be bored too if I did nothing but sit on my fat ass and eat all day," he mused.
That was enough to set them off. There were five of them, including Dudley, who was cowering silently at the back of the group as they quickly approached. "What did you say, you nerd," one of them spat, neatly missing Harry's shoe. Another one of them shoved him against the kitchen counter. Harry ignored the sharp pain in the middle of his back and threw the first punch. He caught one of the larger boys full in the face, but no sooner did the boy stumble than the rat-faced boy had him on the floor.
Harry was stunned. It felt as though the floor had been pulled out from beneath him as the boy kicked his legs out. Harry fell heavily to the floor, his head smashing onto the hard, polished wood and dazing him. He had not expected this and knew he was fighting a losing battle. Reaching for his wand, he felt someone firmly grabbing his wrists and looked up to see that Dudley had joined the fray, albeit reluctantly.
"Let me go!" Harry demanded scathingly.
Dudley ignored him and said, "Grab his arms and legs and don't let him reach into his pockets because that's where he keeps his knives".
The gang complied and Harry soon found himself being dragged from the house, one boy holding an arm or leg each and Dudley holding the back door open. When then had him pinned, struggling to the back lawn, Dudley reached into his pocket shakily pulled out his wand, hiding it from the other boys.
"Give it back!" Harry shouted, struggling profusely. "Give it back now or I'll magic you straight to hell!"
Dudley flinched and ordered them to "Get him!" Instantaneous pandemonium broke out as all four of Dudley's friends began pounding on him. Harry managed to kick one of them in the stomach but that only made them more furious and they beat him harder. Everything was a blur as they repeatedly bashed his head in, their knuckles covered in Harry's blood, and kicked him in the stomach and ribs, causing for him to curl up in a ball. Harry tried to get one punch in, just one descent blow that could possibly give him a chance to escape but even to him it seemed feeble.
Suddenly, there were several loud popping noises and then the beating stopped. Harry lay there clutching his ribs for a moment and trying to clear his aching head enough to sit up. Someone grabbed his shoulders and he instinctively tried to push them away.

"Its alright, Harry," said an all too familiar voice, "Its only me". Harry realised why everything was still blurry and groped around for his glasses. He heard Lupin mutter a spell to fix the shattered glasses before sliding them onto Harry's face for him.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, wiping blood from his mouth and trying to stand up. He gasped and clutched his ribs, angry with himself for being so weak. "Harry-" Lupin began to protest but Harry mutter an, "I'm fine," before forcing himself to his feet and suspecting at least one broken rib. Lupin seemed to suspect the same thing, as he had his wand pointed at him and was muttering some kind of injury detection spell.

Meanwhile, Harry examined his surroundings. The four boys that had been beating him were lying stunned on the ground while Dudley was cowering behind a tree. There were two other wizards that had come with Harry's godfather's best friend who Harry recognised as members of the Order, Mundungus and, to Harry's surprise and shock, Snape. For a moment Snape caught Harry's eye but looked away with a sneer on his face and Harry could not help but wonder what he was thinking.

"Why did you come here?" Harry asked Lupin.

"Why do you think?" Lupin gave him a worried glance.

"I'm sure you have more important things to do and its not as though a bunch of muggle bullies were going to beat me to death. They only wanted to teach me a lesson," Harry spoke darkly before heading toward where Dudley was hiding, kicking the rat-faced boy on the way and, hopefully, making it look like an accident.

"Give me my wand," he spoke calmly. Dudley flinched before throwing the wand. Before the wand could quite go over the fence, Harry had reached out a hand and was slightly surprised when it stopped in mid air and came flying straight back to him. He caught it easily and turned back to find the Order members staring at him. "What?" he asked guiltily.

Deciding not to make an issue of the fact that Harry had just performed wandless magic, Lupin said, "Uh, Harry, it appears that you have several broken ribs and you might want to have that cut looked at," he indicated the gash on Harry's brow and gave Harry a worried look but Harry just lifted his arm up so as to hold the sleeve of his shirt to his bleeding nose. While Mundungus watched the stunned boys, Harry led Lupin and Snape inside. Harry stopped when they all entered the living room and looked at the place where he had been thrown to the floor. There was a smear of blood on the floor and Harry frowned and reached up his hand to touch the back of his head. His fingertips brushed up against a gash and he looked at his hand to find blood on it. "Dammit!" he muttered irritably.

Lupin noticed all of this and went to Harry's side. Before he could ask, Harry answered, "I'm fine," before continuing on his way. Once up the stairs, he entered his bedroom for the first time since the last summer holidays and stopped. The entire room was empty but not in the sense that it had always been empty. There was not a single object in the tiny bedroom.

"What is this, Potter?" sneered Snape.

"Uh, I don't know," Harry sighed. This was certainly not his day. There was a sound of keys being fumbled with down the stairs and then the front door opening. Fuming, Harry slid past Lupin and Snape and walked quickly down the stairs, wincing with pain of this simple movement. No sooner had he reached the bottom of the stairs than he almost ran into Uncle Vernon.

"How did you get in here, boy?" Uncle Vernon demanded coldly.

"Dudley was kind enough to let me in," Harry answered with heavy sarcasm.

"Don't give me your cheek!" Uncle Vernon roared, "Go and make dinner!"

"Where is my bed?" Harry asked quietly, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt as it began to bleed again.

"Sold it," Uncle Vernon said simply, ignoring the fact that Harry was quite obviously injured.

"What for?"

"Waste of space. What do you need it for, anyway? What, the floor not good enough for you? Is that it? We took you in as a baby and fed you and gave you a place to stay, so would you rather sleep in some dumpster, where you belong, or are you going to shut up and make dinner!" Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the shoulder and gave him a firm push towards the kitchen.

Harry was chopping carrots, grumbling to himself and wondering where Lupin and Snape were when Aunt Petunia screamed. Harry's heart skipped a beat. Uh- oh...

"BOY!!!" roared a furious Uncle Vernon. Harry was contemplating ducking under the counter and hiding there for the rest of the night when Uncle Vernon came stomping in, his many chins quivering involuntarily with each step and his face a nasty shade of purple.

"Uh, is there something the matter, Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked innocently. Uncle Vernon grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and shoved him forcefully out the back door. Harry tripped and fell in a heap on the grass, clutching his broken ribs.

"What did you do to Dudley?" Uncle Vernon demanded angrily. Harry looked up to see a sobbing Dudley being cuddled by Aunt Petunia. He was relieved to see, however, that the other four boys were nowhere to be seen.

"What about what he did to me?" Harry glared at his Uncle before struggling to his feet.

"I don't give a damn what he did to you, you snivelling, ignorant, bastard! What you did last summer was more than enough! This was the last straw! Now, since we can't get rid of you, you will do whatever Dudley tells you to do! Is that understood?"

Harry bit back a retort and said resignedly, "Yes, Uncle Vernon," and proceeded to make a baked dinner for the next hour and a half before Dudley's first demand of, "Make me a chocolate cake, Potter!" he hissed nastily, making sure he was out of earshot of his parents.

"But your not allowed. You're on a diet, remember?" Harry glared at him, struggling not to make a snide remark.

"I said to make a chocolate cake and I mean it. If you don't I will make you do something much worse," he sneered and, having let that sink in, he added, "With cream as well," before strutting over to the lounge room and watching television with his parents.

Harry glared after him before gathering the ingredients. He had to make it from scratch because Aunt Petunia had thrown out all of the cake mixes to ensure that Dudley did not get tempted and, with that, Dudley was too incompetent to know how to make a cake the hard way, not to mention that he was lazy. Half an hour later, the cake was cooking in the oven and Harry was scrubbing the dishes laboriously.

Harry had finished the dishes and was just adding the finishing touches to the cake when Dudley walked in. "I'm hungry," he stated.

"You're always hungry," Harry muttered, thrusting the delicious cake into Dudley's arms before beginning the tedious task of drying the dishes. It was some hours later that Harry walked into his bedroom. He had been in the kitchen for longer than he had intended because he had realised at the last moment that he had spilt icing mixture on the floor and was forced to clean it up as discreetly as possible. Then, of course, Aunt Petunia spotted a cockroach on the wall and squealed for him to, "Kill it! Kill it!" before demanding that he vacuum out the entire house to prevent an infestation.

As he entered his bedroom, Harry noticed a bed with dark green sheets and a desk with a lamp and alarm clock on it, along with his school trunk, which Snape had levitated up there when Harry had led them to his room. Harry smiled wearily and made his way over to the desk. There was a note, which read:

Dear Harry,
I must apologise for leaving so soon. We have an urgent call from the Order and must be on our way immediately. However, someone will be sent to heal you immediately. I hope you enjoy you new furniture. Have a nice holiday in case I do not see you again.

Remus Lupin

Harry sighed. He had hardly had the chance to speak to the closest person he had to a father and now it looked as though he would be waiting a long time for another chance.

"Why the long face?"

Harry jumped and had turned around with his wand out and aimed in the blink of an eye. When Harry saw who it was, he lowered his wand immediately and apologised profusely.

"None of that now, Harry dear," Mrs Weasley spoke kindly and embraced him warmly. Harry gasped as the pressure on his ribs became too much. Mrs Weasley released him quickly, "Now, lets have a look at you". She probed him with her wand and helped him so lay down on the newly acquired bed. She spoke to him as she worked her magic, "I came a few hours ago but you were as busy as a house elf and I didn't want to disturb you. It was awfully nice of you to make your cousin a cake like that but I tell you, the boy ate the entire thing within mere minutes and even licked the plate..." Mrs Weasley continued her gossip as she lathered a healing balm on the gash on his brow and got him to drink several potions.

"Mrs Weasley, what was so urgent at the order? What is going on?"

Mrs Weasley was silent for a moment, casting a sealing charm on the cut in his lip, "Well, you see, I really oughtn't be telling you, dear" said Mrs Weasley.

"I think I should know these things. Sooner or later, I am going to have to be a part of the Order. It is my destiny". Harry tried to explain calmly, not wanting to offend her. "Well, dear... You see, you-know-who has the freedom of raiding numerous places now that his cover is blown and a number of people were killed in a recent attack on Diagon Alley-"

"What?" Harry sat bolt upright. "How many? Is it still going on? Is Lupin alright?"

"He's fine. Nobody from the Order was killed, although Severus received a nasty severing charm to the chest and... uh, thirteen people were killed while another four children were taken-"

"Taken?"

"Yes, dear. The Death Eaters took them-"

"Who were they?" Harry began to pace back and forth.

"Sarah Nostalgus, a pure blood girl from an old Wizarding family, Edwardo Fillus, a muggle born boy, David Godard, a half muggle born boy and another girl who nobody seems to know the name of," Mrs Weasley recited, "They all seem to be varied so we can only assume that this was a random choosing of children".

"There must be some link. How old were they?"

"Oh, they were all either fifteen or sixteen and from various different schools," Mrs Weasley answered.
Harry stopped. "Wait. They were all around my age?"
"I suppose, but I am sure this was not an attack on you. They would know you if they saw you, dear," Mrs Weasley looked worriedly at him, "I shouldn't have bothered you with this, Harry. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"
Harry nodded, only half listening. He wished there was something he could do. Nobody deserved Lord Voldemort's torture. Harry took that back as soon as he had thought of it, remembering his godfather's murder. Maybe some people deserved such punishment. Deep in his thought, Harry did not notice as Mrs Weasley magically incinerated the letter Harry had been left by Lupin.
"Bye, Harry," she embraced him once more, gently, and disappeared with a loud pop.
Harry sighed wearily before climbing into bed and falling asleep easily.

Harry distinctly saw four children bound by tight ropes and strapped to separate pillars around a roaring fire as his scar seemed to burst into pain with the flames. They were all staring in horror at a cloaked figure before them, save for one. A girl with long, dark hair, not unlike to his own, looked on calmly.
The cloaked figure reached up and pulled back its hood to reveal piercing red eyes and serpentine features. He walked forward slowly, until he was standing directly behind the flames of the fire, his Death Eaters creating a circle around himself and the children, and all could clearly see his face. Then Lord Voldemort spoke and his words were that of a secret prophecy:

"In the night that the child of light betrays darkness,

The curse of death shall burden the still living child

With a second life, an alternate
And the child's alternate shall be in the form of none other
Than himself in another life and image
This alternate child that be the Mage of sleeping thoughts and
Darkness
Should one seeketh this child only flesh can tell
And this child shall be revealed to light or dark
To change the tides of war in the direction of either."

Voldemort walked through the fire and the flames turned blue, leaving him indifferent upon reaching the opposite side. Harry stared. He had just heard a secret prophecy and it had left him completely stunned.

He watched in awe as Voldemort reached forth his hand and touched the cheek of the first child, a blond girl. She was crying silently, fearful that Voldemort would harm her if he heard such a cowardly sound. Disappointed by no reaction, Voldemort ordered her to be killed before moving on to the next child, a boy with short brown hair and dark circles under his eyes. Again there was no reaction other than fear to his touch and the Death Eaters used the killing curse on him as they had for the girl.

Voldemort had only two left. He touched the second boy before ordering him dead and went to the last girl, the one who had been, and still was, completely calm. Harry stared at her sadly. He then realised that it was not because she would have to die soon but rather that she was lost to him and he felt a great kind of longing. Then she looked directly at him and said, "Help me, Harry," her green eyes identical to his.

Voldemort shot a revealing charm at him but it had no effect so Harry decided that it was time to move, before it was too late. He pulled out his wand and threw a severing charm at the girl's bonds as he ran to her. He reached out to grab her hand at exactly the same moment as Voldemort reached out to touch her face and the girl screamed in what seemed to be agony. With her free hand, the girl managed to push away Voldemort's hand before collapsing into Harry's arms, one lock of her hair turned white at her left brow.

Voldemort saw the girl's body being supported by nothing other than what appeared to be air and aimed his wand at the space above the girl's limp head. Not taking his chances with the killing curse so close to the girl, the Dark Lord hissed, "Crucio!"

Harry's body gave an involuntary spasm of pain and he screamed as the curse tortured every inch of his body. There was a chilling breeze in the air and the lock of white hair at the girl's brow flowed with the breeze, brushing up against the stinging scar on Harry's forehead.

Harry woke up screaming, the after effects of the Cruciatus still active and images of his vision still clear in his mind. Panting and trembling, Harry sat up quickly, only to find that, lying unconscious with her head on his chest, the girl in his vision had come back with him.