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Story: Royal Blood
Author: Chicadoodle, Also Known As AllieyCosta, Alyson, or Alliey
Rated: PG13
Summary: Voldemort is dead. The wizarding world has rejoiced, before returning to some semblance of normalcy. The summer before 7th Year Harry Potter mysteriously dissappears, but there is no sign of forced entry ... only the unmistakable signature of a group of Unspeakables. That wards couldn't hold them .. and they too have dissappeared, leaving their hidden Ward at the Ministry empty. Danger is afoot, and this time, it could turn out to be even more dangerous than Lord Voldemort ever hoped to be. Non-Human!Harry. Dark-fic. Eventually Harry/Lucius. America.
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Voldemort was dead.
Thinking back on it, it was hard for Harry to imagine, now, the world that he had once lived in. A world of fear, where people were wary to trust their neighbor, for fear that they might be sympathizers of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Now, it was like those times had never existed. People weren't afraid to invite you into their house for a spot of tea, and you didn't have to pass through layers of wards to get into those houses. Even after only a year, The Wizarding World had changed so much.
He'd be starting his 7th Year at Hogwart soon, and the only worry on his mind, was what kind of Defense professor Dumbledore had managed to get this time. The only good one he'd really had, had been Professor Lupin in his third year. Oh, Moody had been amazing, nobody could refute that. But the fact that he had actually been a Death Eater taking Polyjuice Potion should have said something. Something like "Run for your lives!"
But, that was all in the past now. For now, all that he had to do was survive the summer holdays, until Hogwarts started up again. Shouldn't be too hard, right?
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He tossed and turned in his bed, pushing hs covers down and then pulling them back up to his neck, the heat of the night warring with his innaet need to be covered, wrapped in soft blankets.
Although, these blankets weren't exactly what one would call "soft". More like, adequat enough not to leave scrath marks in the morning.
Moaning softly, Harry finially sat up in bed, admitting silently to himself that the chances of him getting any sleep tonight were 0 to none. This had been hapenning quite often lately, as the nights seemed to only be getting hotter and hotter. The Dursley's didn't seem to mind, although knowing them, they each probably had an air conditioner in their bedrooms, leaving him to suffer in the summer heat alone.
The nights were the worst, cooped up in this little room with nothing to take his mind off the blistering heat. The days almost seemed cool, but that was most likely because he was so busy, there was nothing to keep his mind off things.
Glancing at his alarm clock -- one of Dudley's old one's that had been replaced this last christmas -- Harry sighed in defeat as he re alised that it was only 1:30 in the monring. What in the world was he supposed to do until his relatives woke up?
A cup of coffee was in order.
Grinning silently to himself, Harry slipped out his room quietly, although by now he knew that he didn't exactly have to worry about waking his relatives up. They slept the sleep of the dead, had as long ashe could remember. Even a pot of freshly brewed coffee, while usually enough to wake up Remus, Ron, and Hermione at Grimmauld Place, ddin't disturb their sleep in the slightest.
Yawning against the back of his hand, harry blinked sleepily as he stumbled down the stairs, jumping over the last step as he always did, before landing with a soft thud on the bottom level. He took a minute to gather his wits about him, disoritentated from the jump, before heading into the kitchen.
As he puttere daround the kitchen, careful tonly dirty the dishes that were absolutely necessary, Harry allowed himself a mom ent to wonder what Sirius wold think of the stunning victory of the Light Side against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Barely a year after the older man's death, it was as if the terorr of the last couple of years had never existed, as if there had never been a war against the insane Hitler-Wanna-Be.
Nobody could forget the wars, though, not really. There were too many dead, too many mass grave sites throughout the Wizarding World, for it to ever really be forgotten.
Feeling his good mood beginning to quickly disspate, Harry forced his mind onto happier subjects, before he fell into a deep depression, as hd been his wont whenever he thought of his godfather, and the War.
Hogwarts. He couldn't wait to go back there. now that Malfoy had finially been taken down a few pegs. His father had renounced voldemoert sometime in their 6th year, although how long he had actually been spyin gfor the Order, Harry didn't know. Narcissa Malfoy had immediately demanded divorce papers, of course, and had refused to acknwledge Draco as her son, claiming that he was "just like his no-good chating father". Her words, of course, stated to a reporter in a paid interview.
Draco, of course, hadn't been spared himulation. He coul dhave easily claimed that he simply been acting the part of a good death-eater for his father, i order to solidify Lucius Malfoy's image as a loyal follower of You-Know-Who. Could have, if he hadn't bee forced to make a formal apology to harry, Ron, and Hermione while his father stood by, watching.
That was a memory he woud cherish for a long time to come. Draco Malfoy, face beet-red, apologising to a Weasley and a Muggle. ah, how he wished he had had a camerca.
Luckily, Remus had shared with him a way to put a memory into a photo, so he'd most definately be looking in to that when he returned to the Wizarding World.
Holding his hand up to stifle yet another yawn, Harry forwned in annoyance at the frequency of the yawns. Obviously, he was starting to reach the stage where Coffee alone wasn't goning to be enough to keep him awake.
Leaning against the counter as the coffee began to bew -- finially! -- Harry allowed his head to droop down, eyes closing as he tried to fight off another wave of tiredness. While it was reasonably cool down here, and he could have easily fallen asleep, he didn't think that hte Dursley's would have taken very kindly to him falling asleep in the kitche, of all places. Not tomention if they found out that he was drinking their precious imported coffee, they'd likely throw a fit of gigantic proportions. H'ed often wondered if hhis unle would actually resort to physical violence if he was bad enough ... and he wasn't too keen on finding out the answer to that particular question.
blinking open his eyes, Harry watched as the coffee continoued to collect in the pot, silently wishing that it would just hurry up and GET THERE, rather than taking forever about it. Unfortunately, ho wever,t he annoying pieceof muggle techonology continued to work at it's frustatingly slow pace.
It was actually kidn of nice down here, so quiet and peaceful in the dark of the night. Smiling slightly -- just a small upward curl on one oside of his mouth -- Harry sighed sfotly, sagging back agaainst the counter once again.
They seeme to almost glide across the lawn of the mundane Muggle house, making no noise in the quiet of the neighborhood. The wards of the house had easily been passed -- one of the few wards that still existed, since the occupant of the house was one of those few who still needed it. Death Eater attacks had completely stopped after the defeat of Voldemort ... but if there was one person that was still under threat of possible asassination, more so than Dumbledore and Fudge put togeather, it was Harry Potter, the one responsible for the death of Lord Voldemort in the first place.
But those Wards meant nothing to them, were simply a tingle to their senses as the walked past.
THe most powerful Wards that Albus Dumbledore could conure meant little to them,s imply a nuisance that they could laugh about later.
The youngest of them had grey sprinked in his hair, eyes set on the door of Number 4, Privet Drive, as if nothing else in the world existed save for that door, and the person hidden behind it. He was awake, their raven-haired boy, their prince, their saviour. He was moving about, puttering around the mundane, muggle little house in a way that did not befit one so great as him. He deserved better.
Beside him walked a woman, a sharp contrast to her companion. Her red hair fell loosely down to the middle of her back, laughing chocolate-brown eyesfixed just as intently on the door of that small little house. A smile tugged at her lips, and while those around her seemed somber and foocues on their task as if were a great teagedy, she seemed to dance along, hands clasped before her chest as she smiled widely, her smile only seeming to grow the close they came to the house.
Before long, they came to halt before the front door, and one of her companions whispered a few chosen words, before sliding open the door.
Harry paused, cup of coffee held to his lips as he listened carefully. That had almost sounded like the front door.
Frowning, witht he cup still clasped tightly in his hands, Harry took a few cautious steps in the direction of the front door, pausing just inside of the kitchen. Just because the Wizarding World was a far cry safer then it had once been, didn't mean that the Muggle World was the same.
And after everything he had been through, getting killed by a random muggle theif would just be completely insane.
Peeking around the corner, Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the darkly robed figured, 8 in all, that stood just inside of the house. One woman, in particular, caught his attention. Her red hair fell down to her waist, brown eyes staring around the house, but not in confusion of the muggle appliances, as he would have expected.
They'd gotten everything right about Lily Potter, save for the eyes. Where his mother's eyes were a vibrant green, this woman had eyes of chocolate-brown.
Feeling an intense anger flare up in him, Harry slowly began to back up, wincing slightly as the floor beneath him squeaked loudly. The woman's head whipped around, and Harryinhaled sharply, before turning around blindly and making a bee-line for the back door.
He never made it that far.