The Struggle For Peace
Chapter 1
The houses of Privet Drive were peaceful as some people relaxed in their patios and others washed their cars, but there was one house under the vibrant sun that was not complacent. The neighbors could say that the residents of Number Four Privet Drive were as normal as any other family, but as soon as the delinquent nephew made an entry, the house wreaked havoc with loud cracks, screeching, screams, and some people even swore that they saw owls flying in and out of the bedroom window upstairs.
Harry thought he had heard and seen it all, but that day, his Uncle brought up another dilemma. He longed to know when Harry would leave. Unable to get a straight answer out of him while he lay in his room, Uncle Vernon resorted to thrash and heave all of Harry's possessions down the stairs. He had been half a second away from igniting his wand, but then he realized he still wasn't of age yet and couldn't use it willingly.
"GET OUT!" Uncle Vernon's furious voice echoed down the stairs as Harry frantically gathered his things from the bottom of the staircase. Just when he brushed his hand against his old Transfiguration book, another one came flying, zoomed past his head, and crashed into his Uncle's ancient grandfather clock. The thick glass burst into tiny pieces and clattered onto the floor, blanketing the bulk of Harry's clothes. Aunt Petunia, who was standing in front of the couch, shrieked in fright and goggled at Harry with those small but lethal eyes.
"Now look what you've done!" Uncle Vernon stormed down the stairs, the bulk of his stomach wobbling up and down.
"And that's my fault!" Harry was astounded at this blame put upon him. Uncle Vernon closed in on him and glared for a second. Suddenly, a hand flew through the air and came in contact with Harry's forearm. He dropped the book in his hand. It was more the emotional pang, not physical, that dominated Harry's feelings. His uncle had never hit him. Before he raged even more, he turned around.
"FINE! I WILL LEAVE!" Harry bellowed at the top of his lungs, and without bothering to pick up anything else, he marched straight to the door, stepped outside, and banged it shut.
Harry levitated his head to look up at the sun, which only added to his existing headache. Unlike the interior of his uncle's house, it was peaceful outside, with a car or two strolling down the street every minute or two. He made his way across the street into Wisteria Walk. Luckily, Dudley was out somewhere again, and Harry hoped he wouldn't run into him.
He didn't think he could survive another day at Privet Drive. The Dursleys had driven him to madness more this summer than any other. Some how they had seemed to forget the little threat the members of the Order of the Phoenix had made if Harry was treated unfairly. As soon as Dumbledore had informed them that Harry would leave when he turned seventeen, they had been ready for their Christmas in July.
Harry approached his usual thinking and cooling down place: the playground. To think that he wouldn't be allowed outside after his birthday was torture. Apparently, Voldemort would automatically know where Harry would be and would come to kidnap him. He desperately hoped that someone would come rescue him before that.
Harry wasn't paying attention as he went to sit on the swing. His mind was in too many different places. As he lowered himself to the swing, he finally realized that someone was already sitting on it.
Startled, Harry retreated immediately after the person gave an oh! of surprise. It was a girl, no older than fourteen or fifteen who was swinging slowly, the edge of her blue knee-length skirt fluttering against the wind.
"Oh, er-I'm sorry." Harry stuttered as he backed up even some more.
The girl chuckled, a kind of childish laugh, and revealed her cute dimples. Harry couldn't help but stare at her hair. It was the most violent red that went past her slouched shoulders, shining more against the sun's rays. It reminded him of her mother. People had always sad that she had the most beautiful red hair and he had seen it once in Dumbledore's Pensieve. He felt like he was standing next to a fluorescent red light bulb.
"It's alright. Calm down." She held up a hand to cool his reaction, "Actually, I'm glad I ran into someone. It was getting so boring sitting her all day. What's your name?"
"Harry." He replied abruptly, leaving the Potter out of his answer and quickly reaching his hair so he could cover his scar.
"I'm Mariah. It's a pleasure." She shook hands with Harry like a businesswoman, "Sit down."
Awkwardly, Harry did so. He kept on glancing at her when she looked up at the sky. There was something different about her but he couldn't put his hand on it. Something about her eyes amazed him, as if they were a thousand miles away. They almost looked gloomy.
"So, what brings you here anyway?"
"My damn Uncle." Harry blurted, "Sorry."
She smiled, "It's quite alright. Did he yell at you and tell you to leave the house?"
"More or less." Harry nodded, amazed at how accurate her prediction was, "I live there for the summers but since the upcoming year is going to be the last one, he wants me out earlier than usual." Mariah stopped swinging and stomped her foot to the ground.
"That's terrible."
"Tell me about it."
"So, where do you go to school?"
"St.Brutus's." Harry said, deciding not to spell out the rest of the title mainly because he didn't remember it.
"Hmm…I've never heard of it, it must be good since you look a smartie."
Bemused, Harry shook his head, "Nah, I'm not. One of my friends is though. She gets top grades for everything."
Mariah sighed, "I wish I did. The day I get a hundred percent on something will be the day pigs start flying."
Harry laughed. He liked that this girl had a sense of humor. He already hoped he would see her again. At least there would be some company for him.
"You live around here?"
"No, actually I live in Bristol. I'm just staying at my brother's house for a few days."
"Oh, I see." She sensed the disappointment in his voice and said, "Maybe we can meet here tomorrow."
"That sounds good, especially since it's my birthday then."
"Really!" Mariah exclaimed, her hair bouncing off her shoulders, "That's great! I'll be sure to bring something."
"Oh no, you don't have to do that-"
"Hush! I'd be honored! Gosh it's been really lonely these days around here."
"At least it's not months for you." Harry grumbled, and eyed his torn sneakers.
"You poor thing. Don't worry, I'll be here tomorrow right around this time."
"Great."
"Well. I should be going. My lunch is probably ready. Bye, Harry. See you."
"Bye."
…
There was nothing extraordinary about Harry's birthday in the morning at the Dursley's house. Aunt Petunia made him prepare breakfast: bacon, eggs, and the usual grapefruit for Dudley. This was something Harry hadn't done in a while.
Uncle Vernon cleared his throat after finishing breakfast, with his porky face lurking behind the morning newspaper, and said, "When are those freaks of yours coming?"
Harry knew perfectly well that he was talking to him, but he chose not to acknowledge it. He kept his head down and his attention focused on his eggs, occasionally seeing Dudley's eyes wandering over to his plate.
"Boy, I'm talking to you!"
"Huh? Oh, I didn't know. What did you say, Uncle Vernon?"
The veins were popping out of his neck already, "I asked you when those freaks are coming to take you, you foolish boy."
"I don't know, haven't heard from them." Harry said truthfully.
"Well, you better know soon or you'll end up on the streets!"
"You wouldn't dare. You're afraid of them."
"What did you say?" Uncle Vernon's eyes popped out like an ugly toad's.
"Nothing. Got to go. Wonderful breakfast." Harry scurried off his plate to the sink and sprinted up the stairs to his room. He still had a few hours left until it was time to go to the swings. He found that he was quite looking forward to it. He hadn't had communication with anyone his age unless if you counted Dudley. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had sent him a few letters each but that wasn't the same as being together in person.
There had only been three things he'd done this summer: think, eat, and sleep. He hadn't even touched the loads of homework piled on the floor next to his window. Harry just didn't have enough mental power to continue with schoolwork knowing that he might not go back to Hogwarts this year. A part of him wanted to but another kept his conscience away from the place that reeked of Dumbledore's presence. Surely his portraits would be hung all around the castle and there would be no avoiding him. Harry felt like a failure. So far, he hadn't done anything that would further his task of defeating Voldemort. No more Horcruxes were in his possession, he hadn't learned extra magic or spells, and he hadn't done anything about Hogwarts. He knew that as soon he faced Dumbledore, he would be a failure in his eyes.
Harry was certainly getting the Daily Prophet, and everyday it announced new deaths left and right. Hopefully there had not been any that he recognized, save one, which was Ernie Prang the Knight Bus driver. Allegedly, a group of Death Eaters saw Muggles on the bus and killed Ernie (thank god Stan Shunpike was still in Azkaban). He didn't think the attacks would ever end, and now that Dumbledore was gone, they would only get worse.
Harry rested face up on his bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking of random things. Sleep penetrated his eyes as they fluttered and closed slowly.
…
Harry closed the door behind him and entered the outside world. It wasn't so sunny today because there were clouds hovering beneath it that showed signs of rain.
For some strange reason, his knees felt weak under his upper body weight as he walked heavily across the street. He guessed it was due to the inactivity for over a month. How much excitement could a person get from sitting in their room most of the summer?
He attempted to walk as normally as he could because he knew he was being followed by the members of the Order and he just didn't want to communicate with any of them.
When he looked back, Harry knew he had acted foolishly by walking outside alone on his birthday.
Harry felt something stir behind him. Harry rested his foot to the ground for a moment and turned around, expecting the noise from a cat. No one was there. Only a car zoomed past him as he inadvertently stood there.
Once again, Harry moved. He was barely minutes away from the playground when he heard the hissing sound again. Alarmed, Harry flashed out his wand and electrified his gaze. He perceived the strangest thing. In the air flew a lethal sword in midair all by itself, closing in on him second by second. Fear panged his heart as he moved his wand left and right, not knowing what or who he was facing.