(Author's Note:) Okay, I'm in a really big mood to write something after reading 'Goblet of Fire', so I thought: "Hey! Why not write my own Year Five for FF.net?" So enjoy the first part of:
Harry Potter and the Cursed Ring
(YEAR FIVE)
Chapter One: Reflections
"Kill the spare." The unearthly voice hissed, the rasp incredibly harsh in the silence of the moonlit graveyard. Harry dimly noticed one of the shadowy figures raise a covered hand, a slender wand protruding from beneath the robes. "Avada Kedavra!" A green light burst from the wand; a noise like an invisible beast swooping overhead; and then all was as it had been before.
Except for Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff seventh year student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, sprawled out on the ground, dead.
A cold laugh, rising steadily higher in pitch—the same voice that had ordered Cedric's death—echoed through the murky depths of Harry's mind, and another flash of green light—
"Ow!" Harry Potter yelped silently, clutching his forehead. The lightning-shaped scar left by Lord Voldemort's curse 14 years ago was throbbing madly, the pain burning through his very soul. As he gasped for air, sitting up in his bed, the details of his dream rushed back to him. Cedric's death now ran through his nightmares almost every night.
The older boy, and one of Harry's rival champions in the Triwizard Tournament, had been murdered by Lord Voldemort, shortly before the Dark Wizard had regained his full power—and more, returning to normal flesh and blood. Most of the wizarding community had lived in fear of that every event, and he shuddered to think what was happening even now. Of course, considering the circumstances, he was out of touch.
Harry had lived with his only surviving relatives—the Dursleys—for the 14 years since Voldemort had killed his parents, and given him his scar. And the Dursleys weren't exactly what one would call wizard-loving people. They were as prime an example of what wizards and witches called "Muggles"—non-magical people—as he would have thought possible. Many times, it seemed as though they belonged in the Dark Ages, during when magical humans and creatures alike were persecuted. The Dursleys felt anything and anyone connected with magic was inferior to them, and as a result had tried to squash all the magic potential out of Harry when he was a child by tormenting him. Harry's dump truck-sized cousin Dudley particularly enjoyed that activity.
Although the Dursleys now did not persecute him directly, they didn't exactly treat him like a king, however. Compared to "Duddykins" he might not have even existed. But that was exactly the way Harry wanted it. Whenever the Dursleys were paying attention to him, it usually wasn't exactly positive attention.
From the other side of the room, Harry's snowy-white owl, Hedwig, hooted at him softly. "It's all right, Hedwig." He murmured, getting to his feet. He wandered over to her cage and stroked her downy plumage with a finger. "I'm fine, just had a bad dream, that's all." She didn't look like she believed him, and hooted again.
"You want to go out?" Harry asked her. Taking her cage to the window, he slid open the sash and unlatched the door to her cage. Hedwig flapped her wings twice and took to the sky. Harry wiped the cold sweat off of his face as the owl faded to a distant prick of white in the midnight sky.
As Harry set the cage back down on his bedside table, he found his thoughts going back to Voldemort. The Dark Sorcerer had already tried to kill him three times…why hadn't he attacked him while he was here? His brow furrowed in concentration. It wasn't as if the Dursleys would have tried to stop him or anything…they probably would be just as glad with Harry dead. It wasn't exactly a secret that Voldemort and his followers, the Death Eaters, all despised Harry with a vengeance. So why was he still alive?
It was a very long time before sleep—and nightmares—returned to him.
Chapter Two: Darkness Rising
Harry walked down the stairs, yawning from the sleepless night previously. As he entered the kitchen, Aunt Petunia looked up at him, then returned to cooking bacon for Dudley, who had weaseled out of his year-long diet during the last weak by finally losing five pounds. "Get into nice clothes and comb your hair," she said sharply without even looking up at him. "You're coming with us to the carnival today as Duddy's reward for staying with his diet all year."
Behind Harry, Uncle Vernon walked into the kitchen. "And if you dare do ANYTHING that's even remotely like…you know…" his face grew purple. "Wizardry," he spat out finally. "You'll be in incredible trouble!" Above all, the Dursleys feared that anyone respectable would find out their affiliation with the magical community.
Harry, now a boy of almost fifteen, stood his ground. "What type of trouble? Sirius probably wouldn't be too happy to hear that." He said softly. The words had their desired effect, and Uncle Vernon's beet-red face paled.
"All right…" he hissed. "Just don't get into any trouble…"
~~~~~
The company car that Uncle Vernon had received from his firm, Grunning's Drills, pulled into the parking lot of the mall. As Dudley waddled towards the large whitewashed building, Aunt Petunia close behind, Vernon grabbed Harry by the arm. "Listen, you." He said quietly. "Just stay quiet, and behave, and maybe we'll get you something under two pounds." He turned sharply and walked off.
As Harry browsed through various stores, occasionally checking the price tags on items that he thought he might like, he heard a familiar voice saying. "Can you ring this up please?" Harry turned, to see Cho Chang, a fellow student at Hogwarts. She was a Ravenclaw sixth year, and played Seeker on the house Quidditch team, the same position Harry played. And she was very pretty as well. Harry had asked her to the Yule Ball, but it turned out that she already had had a date—Cedric Diggory.
"Cho!" He walked over to her. "How are you?"
She froze, and looked up, shock on her beautiful face. "Harry!" She breathed. She threw the blouse she had been holding on the clerk's register, saying "On second thought, cancel that!" and she ran into the crowd of people outside the store, many of whom paid no attention to the girl.
Harry stopped in his tracks, stunned. Why had Cho reacted like that? She had always treated him as a friend when they were at Hogwarts…why then did she run away? An idea flashed through Harry's mind—could she be blaming him for Cedric's death?
Harry scanned the crowd, searching for a sign of Cho, and then another thought struck him. He had lost the Dursleys! They weren't in the store behind him, and there was no trace of them outside. He began to wander around the mall, searching for them, but they could not be found at all.
Several hours passed before Harry finally gave up on the search. He might as well go home…but how was he to do that? He couldn't Apparate; Floo Powder was out of the question. Maybe he could magic a car into starting…no, even if he could figure out how to do that, he didn't know how to drive. And then it hit him. The Knight Bus! He could take the Knight Bus to Privet Drive!
Making sure that no one was around after getting outside, Harry stuck out his right hand into the road. For a few seconds, nothing happened, and Harry felt he must look pretty odd standing there. Then there was a 'pop' of displaced air and Harry found himself looking at the Knight Bus, emergency transport for any witch or wizard.
The doors opened, and out stepped Stan Shunpike, the operator of the Bus. "Blimey! It's 'Arry Potter!" the man said, recognizing the boy from when he had taken the Knight Bus two years before. "Ne'er thought we'd see you again, 'Arry! 'Ow 'oo been?" He shook Harry's hand, smiling warmly. "Where's it 'oo want ter go?"
"Er…Number Four, Privet Drive, if that's all right." Harry said, a bit embarrassed at Stan's enthusiastic welcome.
"No probl'm, not a probl'm at all, 'Arry!" Stan stepped through the large folding doors, and Harry followed. Harry caught Stan telling the driver what Harry's destination was, when someone shouted his name.
"Harry! So nice to see you again!"
Harry turned, and a smile broke out on his face. "Professor Lupin!" The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher during Harry's third year, Professor Lupin was by far Harry's favorite. Considerably more charming than the stuttering Professor Quirrel, in Harry's first year—who ended up being a puppet for Lord Voldemort anyway—and not all talk and a handsome face like Gilderoy Lockheart, Lupin had also been a close friend of Harry's father.
There was something different about him, though. He looked worn-out, tired. It wasn't the state of his robes, they had been in the state of disarray they were in long enough so Harry was used to them. And then he noticed Lupin's eyes. Normally merry and charmind, they still had that spark, yet it was so diminished from the fatigue clinging to him that it was barely noticable. "Are you feeling alright, Professor?"
Smiling wanly, Lupin shook his head. "Harry, I'm not your teacher anymore, so you can drop the 'Professor'. I'm just Remus Lupin from now on." He yawned, but then a deadly serious look found its way onto his face. "And I'm feeling fine…except Voldemort," Harry looked around to make sure no one had heard Lupin saying the name. "Is wreaking havoc…It's all the Ministry of Magic can do to put Memory Charms on the Muggles who see him or the Death Eaters…who knows when they'll begin to go after the Muggles and Muggle-born wizards and witches?"
There was a loud BANG, and the Knight Bus screeched to a halt. "Priv't Drive, 'Arry!" Stan called. Then, his face drained of all color as he stared out the window. "Good God Almighty!" He gasped.
Professor Lupin immediately sprang to his feet, wand at the ready. "Harry! Stay here!" He ordered. Harry nodded meekly, his feet rooted to the spot, he couldn't have moved if he wanted to. All he could see was the emerald skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth as if it were a living tongue. And then, Mr. Weasly's voice echoed in his head. "You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed…" He felt a leaden weight drop into his stomach.
The Dark Mark was hanging over Number Four, Privet Drive.