(A/n I'm baaaaaaacck!! Mawha ha ha! Fanfiction.net? I can make it at home! All I need is a computer...and a smaaaall aubergine…)
Another fifth year story - Events at Hogwarts take a turn for the worst - I. love. feedback.
I own nothing.
Harry Potter and the War of Hogwarts
The lightning flashed and illuminated the sky and the rain lashed down, the Muggle streets were soaking wet and the rain gushed through the gutters. The man couldn't see three feet in front of him. He was walking at a brisk pace, muttering to himself. He seemed oblivious to the rain, maybe having a much larger worry on his mind. In his shaking hands he was carrying a package wrapped in brown paper. He was shielding it from the rain tenderly blocking it from the wet. He slowed down as he rounded a corner. The rain came down even heavier if that were possible, and the thunder roared monstrously. As he walked down the lane by a small row of terraced houses, he came to a corner. Before darting down the little gap in the hedge, he took a nervous look around to check for any onlookers. The hedge rustled as he slid through, and then he was gone, as if he had never been there at all.
From across the street a pair of dark eyes narrowed. The observer, disguised by the rain took one last glance at the hedge and started the walked briskly in the opposite direction…smirking to himself.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had always been a special place. On days like these it looked indescribable. The early morning sun rose up the stone brickwork and the sky was a backdrop of deepest blue from the heavy storm. The picturesque setting was a contrast to the events inside.
After the rising of Voldermort after the third task it was made clear to all the professors what a troubled time they would soon face. This was proven to them when, by the orders of Dumbledore, they were told that their summer task would be increasing and renewing the protective spells around the castle. It was not an unpleasant job, but with each spell they were reminded of what they were doing it for. Dumbledore had made it clear to all the staff that Voldermort would not wait long. He would attack soon. Yet they knew they had the summer. Voldermort would never attack without the students present. So, they were using all the time they had to make Hogwarts as safe as they could. Dumbledore sighed. He only hoped it would be enough.
The footpath was still muddy from the storm the night before and as Snape walked, his feet made squelchy noises in the dirt. As he walked through the trees he thought about the task that was set before him. He had been greatly surprised when Dumbledore rejected his offer of renewing his role as a spy, but and he hated to admit it, slightly relieved also. He had seen former traitors begging forgiveness at Voldermort's feet and the results had not been pretty. Still, he thought as he emerged from the forbidden forest, he couldn't really see the significance of this task. His double agent role would be much more fruitful…providing he didn't die in the process.
"Pettigrew - sighted?" Dumbledore said mildly, looking up at Snape from his parchment on his desk, " Tell me, Severus, how long ago?"
"Yesterday night. The storm was heavy but I knew it was him. He was carrying something…It was a small box, I couldn't begin to guess what it could be. But we know one thing. He went down a path way, and I think that's where the Death Eaters meet."
Dumbledore stopped shifting through papers on his desk and regarded Snape thoughtfully.
"You question my motives for sending you on this mission."
It wasn't a question, rather a statement. Snape was clearly not expecting that. But then again, Dumbledore had always had a knack of reading facial expressions to tell him what was going on in a person's mind.
"I confess, I would have thought a double agent role would -"
"Be an asset to the resistance," finished Dumbledore. "Indeed it would, Severus, but you too are also an asset. Voldermort is not stupid. He knows that you are never to return to him - going back to him would be the nearest equivalent to suicide. You are too valuable. I'm glad you're thinking for the greater good of the resistance but I believe this commission is also vital to the school and our stand against Voldermort."
Snape knew this signalled the end of their discussion. He nodded to Dumbledore and strode out the office, a little less confused. He took one last glance at the stairs and paced down to the dungeons.
The small sound of the quill scratching on paper seemed in an odd way to bring the darkness closer. Brow furrowed Harry Potter bit at his quill whilst re-reading his potions essay. At the current moment the only thing that mattered was making this potions essay good, so he wouldn't get a detention for, 'Not bothering about homework in the holidays.' He measured the parchment again. He decided to do a Hermione and go over the limit.
Harry grinned to himself half and hour later. Let's see what he can find wrong with that, he thought. Harry had found himself burying himself In his homework, maybe subconsciously to get over last year. He knew it wasn't healthy but ordinarily you had to talk things through with somebody, and after to that you could start to heal. But Harry - he didn't have anyone. At the Dursley's anyway. He imagined himself having a pensive discussion with Dudley about last year. The idea was funny in itself - but Harry didn't laugh or smile. In a strange way, it just made him feel more miserable. It wasn't just the Voldermort thing, as Harry had started referring to it as, it was the fact that he was responsible for taking a person's life. Even if it was an accident, and he didn't know events would sway so gruesomely, the fact was, they did and now he had to face the consequences. It's a terrible thing to have experienced what he had to have two straight months to chew over it. And that was the other thing. Dumbledore had forbidden Harry going to see Ron. Harry had received a very angry letter about it from his best friend, apologising profusely, but deep down, Harry could see where Dumbledore was coming from. Voldermort had tried to kill him, and there was a great chance he would try again. If Harry was at the Weasley's when that attempt came again…he didn't like to think about it. He supposed he was thankful to Dumbledore for relieving him the burden on another eight lives.
Harry's thoughts were stemmed abruptly with the appearance of Vernon Dursley at his doorway.
"Look, there are three people in this house trying to sleep - turn that light off, go on now!" Harry frowned at him but reached over to flick the switch. Uncle Vernon closed the Harry's door and walked off down the hall. Harry's eyes were stinging from lack of sleep so he rolled up his essay and lay down on his bed, willing for sleep.
Harry's eyes fell shut, and darkness encircled him - his eyelids fluttered as he dreamt…
Far off, in a fortress surrounded by water, many shadowed figures gathered around a tall speaker listening to his proposition.
He wouldn't remember the dream in the morning.
Another fifth year story - Events at Hogwarts take a turn for the worst - I. love. feedback.
I own nothing.
Harry Potter and the War of Hogwarts
The lightning flashed and illuminated the sky and the rain lashed down, the Muggle streets were soaking wet and the rain gushed through the gutters. The man couldn't see three feet in front of him. He was walking at a brisk pace, muttering to himself. He seemed oblivious to the rain, maybe having a much larger worry on his mind. In his shaking hands he was carrying a package wrapped in brown paper. He was shielding it from the rain tenderly blocking it from the wet. He slowed down as he rounded a corner. The rain came down even heavier if that were possible, and the thunder roared monstrously. As he walked down the lane by a small row of terraced houses, he came to a corner. Before darting down the little gap in the hedge, he took a nervous look around to check for any onlookers. The hedge rustled as he slid through, and then he was gone, as if he had never been there at all.
From across the street a pair of dark eyes narrowed. The observer, disguised by the rain took one last glance at the hedge and started the walked briskly in the opposite direction…smirking to himself.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had always been a special place. On days like these it looked indescribable. The early morning sun rose up the stone brickwork and the sky was a backdrop of deepest blue from the heavy storm. The picturesque setting was a contrast to the events inside.
After the rising of Voldermort after the third task it was made clear to all the professors what a troubled time they would soon face. This was proven to them when, by the orders of Dumbledore, they were told that their summer task would be increasing and renewing the protective spells around the castle. It was not an unpleasant job, but with each spell they were reminded of what they were doing it for. Dumbledore had made it clear to all the staff that Voldermort would not wait long. He would attack soon. Yet they knew they had the summer. Voldermort would never attack without the students present. So, they were using all the time they had to make Hogwarts as safe as they could. Dumbledore sighed. He only hoped it would be enough.
The footpath was still muddy from the storm the night before and as Snape walked, his feet made squelchy noises in the dirt. As he walked through the trees he thought about the task that was set before him. He had been greatly surprised when Dumbledore rejected his offer of renewing his role as a spy, but and he hated to admit it, slightly relieved also. He had seen former traitors begging forgiveness at Voldermort's feet and the results had not been pretty. Still, he thought as he emerged from the forbidden forest, he couldn't really see the significance of this task. His double agent role would be much more fruitful…providing he didn't die in the process.
"Pettigrew - sighted?" Dumbledore said mildly, looking up at Snape from his parchment on his desk, " Tell me, Severus, how long ago?"
"Yesterday night. The storm was heavy but I knew it was him. He was carrying something…It was a small box, I couldn't begin to guess what it could be. But we know one thing. He went down a path way, and I think that's where the Death Eaters meet."
Dumbledore stopped shifting through papers on his desk and regarded Snape thoughtfully.
"You question my motives for sending you on this mission."
It wasn't a question, rather a statement. Snape was clearly not expecting that. But then again, Dumbledore had always had a knack of reading facial expressions to tell him what was going on in a person's mind.
"I confess, I would have thought a double agent role would -"
"Be an asset to the resistance," finished Dumbledore. "Indeed it would, Severus, but you too are also an asset. Voldermort is not stupid. He knows that you are never to return to him - going back to him would be the nearest equivalent to suicide. You are too valuable. I'm glad you're thinking for the greater good of the resistance but I believe this commission is also vital to the school and our stand against Voldermort."
Snape knew this signalled the end of their discussion. He nodded to Dumbledore and strode out the office, a little less confused. He took one last glance at the stairs and paced down to the dungeons.
The small sound of the quill scratching on paper seemed in an odd way to bring the darkness closer. Brow furrowed Harry Potter bit at his quill whilst re-reading his potions essay. At the current moment the only thing that mattered was making this potions essay good, so he wouldn't get a detention for, 'Not bothering about homework in the holidays.' He measured the parchment again. He decided to do a Hermione and go over the limit.
Harry grinned to himself half and hour later. Let's see what he can find wrong with that, he thought. Harry had found himself burying himself In his homework, maybe subconsciously to get over last year. He knew it wasn't healthy but ordinarily you had to talk things through with somebody, and after to that you could start to heal. But Harry - he didn't have anyone. At the Dursley's anyway. He imagined himself having a pensive discussion with Dudley about last year. The idea was funny in itself - but Harry didn't laugh or smile. In a strange way, it just made him feel more miserable. It wasn't just the Voldermort thing, as Harry had started referring to it as, it was the fact that he was responsible for taking a person's life. Even if it was an accident, and he didn't know events would sway so gruesomely, the fact was, they did and now he had to face the consequences. It's a terrible thing to have experienced what he had to have two straight months to chew over it. And that was the other thing. Dumbledore had forbidden Harry going to see Ron. Harry had received a very angry letter about it from his best friend, apologising profusely, but deep down, Harry could see where Dumbledore was coming from. Voldermort had tried to kill him, and there was a great chance he would try again. If Harry was at the Weasley's when that attempt came again…he didn't like to think about it. He supposed he was thankful to Dumbledore for relieving him the burden on another eight lives.
Harry's thoughts were stemmed abruptly with the appearance of Vernon Dursley at his doorway.
"Look, there are three people in this house trying to sleep - turn that light off, go on now!" Harry frowned at him but reached over to flick the switch. Uncle Vernon closed the Harry's door and walked off down the hall. Harry's eyes were stinging from lack of sleep so he rolled up his essay and lay down on his bed, willing for sleep.
Harry's eyes fell shut, and darkness encircled him - his eyelids fluttered as he dreamt…
Far off, in a fortress surrounded by water, many shadowed figures gathered around a tall speaker listening to his proposition.
He wouldn't remember the dream in the morning.