Chapter 1 - Accidental Apparition
DISCLAIMER
I do not own any of the trademarks, characters, settings or situations that are part of the Harry Potter universe. All copyrights for these are held by J. K. Rowling. All other material contained herein is my own. This material may be copied or reproduced in alternative formats, however I ask you out of courtesy to seek my permission before doing so. Thank you.
This chapter is being re-posted with some alterations, hopefully for the better. I thought the reason I haven't updateed in such a long time was because I was so busy, which is still true, but I found out yesterday that I've been fighting writers' block. After finding some tips, I decided to go back over the chapters already posted, before starting on the next bit. Hopefully I'll have worked out where I want to go with the story by then. Enjoy.
Hello and welcome to 'Harry Potter and the Heir of the Light'. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing. I've read many excellent fanfics and from them have gained inspiration to write this. I'll try to keep author notes to a minimum. As I'm at university, I may not be able to update as regularly as I would like to. By the way, I'm looking for a beta reader; so if anyone's interested, please e-mail me at Now on wit the fic!
it to my attention so due credit can be given. The HP fandom universe should be an open one, and one which we can all share and enjoy. And so saying…
Harry Potter and the Heir of the Light
Chapter One – Accidental Apparition
"For every beginning, there is an end."
"For every life, there is a death."
"But against the darkness, there is always light."
Cold, desperate, alone. This is how Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, felt as he sat in the rear of his Uncle's car, returning for yet another interminably long summer at Number Four, Privet Drive. Except that this summer would be different - completely, utterly different. For the first time since starting at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he would be alone - completely, utterly alone. Well, not quite alone, he reminded himself bitterly. For he still had his two best friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. His two best friends who had stayed with him through all the trials and tribulations during his time at school. But even they did not know, could not know the bitter pain and emptiness that he felt inside. For just days ago, his Godfather, the notorious and still wanted supposed mass-murderer and escaped convict, Sirius Black, had passed away, never to return. Sirius Black, the last link to his parents and the childhood he never had. Sirius Black, the one person in the entire world who had truly cared about him, loved him, cherished him and vouched for him. Sirius Black, a reminder of the freedom he had but fleetingly been promised, only for it to be cruelly taken away just minutes later. Sirius Black, the one pillar of normality in his life. Harry chuckled humorlessly to himself; "As if anything that happens to me is ever normal".
He sighed, and leaned back against the seat, looking out of the window. Most boys would be looking forward to the holidays, excitedly thinking about what they would be doing with their parents and friends, planning trips out to fun events and stopovers at each other's houses. But Harry was already counting down the days until he would be back at Hogwarts.
All this time, his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, the very impersonation of 'normal' muggle individuals and devout practitioners of normal muggle livelyhoods, had been strangely quiet. There was not one insult barked or snide comment thrown. Harry guessed the warning that they had been given from several members of the basically vigilanti and highly undercover Order of the Phoenix, (particularly the slightly, or to the muggles highly, terrifying Mad-Eye-Moody with his rotating magical eye), at King's Cross station was still fresh in their minds. Even Dudley, who would normally never have turned down an opportunity to participate in his favorite pastime, (other than bullying innocent ten-year-olds), Harry-Bashing, was sitting still and silently occupying his customary two-thirds of the back seat, leaving his skinny cousin pushed up against the inside of the car door in the process. Harry was slightly unnerved; he wasn't sure whether he preferred this silent treatment to the usual yelling and ordering about that he received from his relatives.
Harry wished that he could just get home, (for that is what he called it even though it felt like anything but) and be by himself. He wished there was some way, any way that he could speed up the 2 hour journey to Little Whinging, Surrey, so that he could minimize the time that he would have to spend around the Dursleys. He was just thinking how nice it would be if he could simply apparate there, when there was a loud bang and a jolt that sent him hurtling into the back of the driver's seat. The car came to a shuddering halt and was still. Vernon was thrown against the windscreen, Petunia screamed, and Dudley was doing his best to get his enormous bulk out from between the seats, a feat which was proving to be rather difficult at the least. "What the..." thought Harry in alarm. He looked around, and found that they were in the parking space in front of Number Four, Privet Drive, and the place that had been a virtual prison for Harry for the ten years before he knew he was a wizard. He stared in shock at the sudden change of scenery, not knowing what to make of it. "Oh well", he thought, "I'm a wizard so it shouldn't surprise me". He was still anxious however, as he was sure it was him that had performed magic, and he had already been in trouble once for disregarding the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, even though he had done it to save both his and Dudley's lives.
He got out of the car, walked around to the boot and removed his trunk and Hedwig's cage. He was about to turn and walk up the front steps, but thought he should at least check to make sure the Dursleys were okay. He opened the driver's door, and yanked his Uncle who was now blue in the face and hyperventilating out of the car. He walked around to his Aunt Petunia and guided her out as well. Finally he opened the rear door, and pulled at Dudley with all his might. This was no mean feat, but little by little he extricated Dudley from where he was jammed, and at long last he was free. He then picked up his belongings and walked up the stairs. Just before he went into the house, he turned round to the still shocked Dursleys and said, "Sorry".
Making his way onto the landing, he turned right and trudged towards the small bedroom at the end of the hallway, which besides Professor Snape's Potions dungeon at Hogwarts was his least favorite place in the world. He crossed the threshold, placed Hedwig's cage on the edge of the desk nearest the window, opened it and then collapsed onto his small, lumpy bed.
It was then that he realized just what had happened. Had he done accidental magic? Had he really apparated the whole Dursley family, their car and himself nearly a hundred miles just by thinking about it? "Not again!" he thought, thinking back to his trial for exactly the same offence, though he had done it to save his and Dudley's lives, a year ago at the Ministry of Magic. He groaned, waiting for one of the Ministry owls to swoop in, for the wizards to arrive, for his wand to be snapped, as it would be for sure this time.
He lay back. The last week and a half, since Sirius'… the word caught in his throat…'death' had taken its toll on him. He fell into a fitful sleep, images of red jets of light and falling… falling… falling... flooding through his mind…
'He was in the Department of Mysteries, waving the Prophecy in his hand, baiting Lucius Malfoy to come and try and get it. He was standing there as the Order battled it out with the Death Eaters. He watched, mesmerized as Sirius taunted Bellatrix Lestrange and dueled with her at the same time. He watched as that sparkling red jet of light flew towards him, hitting him and sending him soaring towards the Veil…'
"Nooooooo" he screamed, waking up in a sweat and sitting straight up. He looked around, noticing where he was, realizing that it was not a dream, but reality. Sirius was really dead, and he, Harry, would never see him again.
"SHUT UP BOY!" yelled Uncle Vernon, stomping down the hall, pounding on the bedroom door and throwing it open. "It's bad enough we have to put up with your unwanted presence when we do. The least you could do is give us some peace, you ungrateful wretch". This said, he stomped back out of the door and down the stairs, slamming it roughly behind him.
He sagged back. Nothing he did would ever please his Aunt and Uncle, save him being as far away from them as possible, although even that would not be enough. They would only be happy if he was dead, or better still, not related to them at all. At least then they would not have to put up with any 'funny business'.
He resigned himself to another isolated and boring summer, staring listlessly at the rough piece of paper stuck on the wall that served as a calendar, on which he counted down the days until his return to Hogwarts and relative freedom. Looking over at Hedwig, who was busy preening her feathers, he thought he would at least write to the Order, letting them know that he was not in mortal peril, yet. Thinking of that reminded him of the Prophecy, the Prophecy that had been made before he was even born, and the Prophecy, which now hung like a dark cloud over his life:
'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,
Born to those who have thrice defied him
Born as the seventh month dies.
But the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,
And he will have power the Dark Lord knows not.
But either must die at the hand of the other,
For neither can live whilst the other survives.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord,
Will be born as the seventh month dies.'
Ever since he had heard this Prophecy in Professor Dumbledore's office, made by Cybil Trelawney who many thought was nothing but an attention-seeking fraud, he had known he was on borrowed time. Known he was just a tool for people like the members of the Order, known he was being played by the hands of fate.
He got out his quill and some parchment and prepared to write, when a deafening scream tore through the house, making every hair on his body stand on end.
Last Revised: 07 January 2006