The Dark Beckoning

A new beginning waits for Harry and his friends after Voldemort's demise. But while Harry is done with trouble, trouble isn't quite over with him just yet. Set right after the battle. The Dark Beckoning is filled with mystery, beings, Aurors and politics and just a touch of romance, though not too much.

I don't own Harry Potter. Wish I did!

A New Beginning

"Look… at… me…"

Harry breath caught in his throat. He heard the thunderous crash of stones and the cries of those trapped, but where ever he looked, he only saw night: the blackest night he had ever seen, swirling and swirling. He felt as though he was falling, yet never hitting the ground. His heartbeat echoed through the darkness, fast and terrible, filled with fear and courage.

"Look… at… me…" rasped the voice again, barely a whisper.

Screams of hurt and anguish punctured Harry like daggers. He wanted to help, even though he couldn't see anything.

"NO Fred!"

"Not my daughter, you bitch!"

"You dare?"

Nowhere was safe.

A flash of bright green light lit up the unyielding darkness. Then, a cold high pitched laugh pierced the void like a clap of thunder.

"You are a fool, Harry Potter, if you think me dead."

Harry jolted awake. He sat up straight backed, with one hand clenching the sweat drenched sheets he had slept on top of, while the other gripped his newly repaired phoenix and holly wand. His breaths were ragged and fast. His wide, bright green eyes bored into crimson hangings of his four-poster bed in Gryffindor tower, as his nightmare replayed itself in his mind.

"Harry?" his best friend Hermione Granger asked gently.

The hangings to his right were pulled aside. Her voice felt like a gush of water putting out the fires that his dream had caused. Soothing, he thought. He saw her peaky battle-worn face and quickly nodded in reply. He didn't want to seem weak after all they had been through. Harry didn't want to break down or have nightmares in front of his friends. He felt ashamed. The sharp breaths slowed, yet his heartbeats continued to hammer into his ears.

Hermione watched him silently, the cool dawn light pooling into his vision. He could see the tiredness in her face. But there was also relief, and grief, and elation sparkling in her brown eyes.

"How do you feel?"

'I'm—" Harry cleared his dry, raw throat. At that very moment he realised how much his entire body ached and throbbed. His cuts stung, and where the Avada Kedavra curse had hit his chest, there was a huge black, swollen bruise. "I'm Okay. Really I am, Hermione. How about you?"

"Okay as well."

Though Harry didn't quite believe her, just as he thought she didn't believe him.

She tucked her bushy brown hair behind her ear. She smelt like lavender and rose and was very clean. The grime and blood of battle all gone.

"Although, I have to say, I saw Madam Pomfry stalking the corridors in a feverish state, prodding everyone she sees for any injuries."

Harry licked his parched lips and looked down at his dirty, blood stained hands. He must have looked absolutely filthy. After defeating Voldemort within Hogwarts's Great Hall and speaking with Dumbledore's portrait, Harry had walked himself straight into his old dorm and fell right on top of his bed.

"I'm glad you're finally awake now. The castle never slept." Hermione smiled, offering him a goblet of water from the pewter pitcher sitting on his bedside cabinet, right next to a plate of a half eaten sandwich which Kreacher had kindly brought up.

"How long have—"

"You've slept for twenty three hours."

He hesitated before asking his next question. But Hermione had known the effects of his dreams close hand after many encounters during their years at Hogwarts, and many months of camping. "Did I have anymore dreams?" He lifted the goblet to his lips, glad of any excuse to look away from her. He savoured the cool water.

"No, that was your first. I woke up ten hours ago and couldn't sleep because of the dreams. I've been around the castle, but I just wanted to be here, in the silence. I've had enough of the stares, the congratulatory handshakes, and the questions!"

Harry snorted. "Welcome to the club." Hermione replied silently with a reproachful look.

He pulled open the rest of his hangings, wincing as pain threaded from his joints and hurts. He noted that all the other beds were empty. "Where's Ron? Where is everyone?"

"They're helping with the clean up. Ron's with his family. He needs to be…" Hermione broke off. Harry sensed that she did not want to speak further about the tragedy in Ron's family for the time being.

Harry ran his fingers through his long hair, realising that he was in need of a big haircut. Slowly his ears became tuned to the many sounds the broken castle was producing. He heard groans and creaks of stone and debris being shifted by its occupants and the several bangs of Merlin-knows-what happening throughout Hogwarts.

As he blinked and rubbed his eyes, the memories of the night and dawn before flooded in: he saw Fred's lifeless body caressed in his twin brother George's arms. Tonks and Remus Lupins bodies swam into his vision, like fragile ghosts. Colin Creevy dead, Lavender Brown's torn and bloodied throat, and the other faces that died for the cause against Voldemort quest for power. Grief struck him with full force, the weight of it pressing down on his chest, as though it had been finally released after it been bundled into a tight ball and trapped in his body. The grief and hurt simply held in place by feelings of victory and jubilation.

"I need to help them!"

He swang out of bed, snatched his glasses from the cabinet, shoving them on. The memories vanished like wisps of smoke.

He noticed that someone had peeled off his shoes and placed them neatly by the side of his bed. Feeling wide awake now, he fumbled into his sneakers. Hermione looked a little frustrated at his attempt getting out of bed.

"Harry, why don't you freshen up first? You'll feel heaps better after. I did." Hermione pointed to a pile of ironed robes that sat on a chair. "Kreacher had sent these up, he didn't have too, but he really insisted." Hermione was still attached to the plight of house elves barely twenty six hours after Voldemort's demise. Harry was glad that some things never changed. "Wash up, go on."

"Yeah, mate, she's got good advice there… but only sometimes." Ron's voice floated into the dorm.

At his best friend's voice, Harry's new day brightened a little more. He saw the tall red-haired figure leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed. A bandage wrapped around his hand and on his head.

"Well, looks like I won't be helping you the next time you screw up, Ronald Weasley!" she threw Harry's pillow at him. But he ducked in time.

"How's George?" Harry asked. It was more like the words just tumbled out of his mouth. He knew the Weasleys were in mourning, but for George the grief must have been worst of all.

Ron shrugged as he moved into the dorm to sit on top of his own bed. "Not well. We haven't seen him for hours. Mum's going mental, but Dad said to let him be. I think he's just hiding in one of the secret passageways if you ask me."

Hermione moved from Harry's side and sat next to Ron, snaking an arm around his broad shoulders. Ron bowed his head in silence, though his body inched closer to Hermione's for comfort. Only hours before, Harry had noted that they had kissed for the very first time. It wasn't exactly the best situation to express their feelings, but Harry was happy now that they could enjoy many more moments like those without worrying about their lives.

They suddenly heard a horrible growl somewhere outside the castle and a tremendous thud that made the dormitory quake.

"What the—?"

Harry rushed to a window with Ron and Hermione following suit. They saw a giant being staked to the ground with magicked chains by ten wizards, while another giant swung an uprooted tree towards a group of Aurors. The wizards looked like ants compared to the giants. The free giant ran into the Forbidden Forest, scattering a large flock of thestrals from the trees.

"Stragglers," Hermione said. "While you slept, the Ministry of Magic have been regrouping the giants and other beings Voldemort had used. Of course they've fought back."

"And a couple of Death Eaters decided to attack, but nothing major," Ron added.

Harry was shocked that he had slept through more skirmishes. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"It's all over," Ron said aghast. "Besides you were so deep in sleep, I would've had better luck waking a vegetable."

Harry was still disappointed. "But… but they're still fighting!"

Hermione waved a hand around. "Losers Lurgy…"

They all laughed.

"How are they going to get them back from where they came from?" Harry wondered as he watched the restrained giant tugging on his chains. With a hand the size of a mini van, it almost swatted one of the wizards walking close to him.

"I heard Percy saying they're going to force feed them barrels of sleeping potions and transport them using the biggest magical carpets they can get hold of. Perce doesn't approve of it, just because magic carpets are banned and all in Britain. It's the only way I reckon, I mean, they can't use spells, because their giant skin is immuned to it." Ron seemed quite impressed he had retained a bit of magical knowledge.

A thick patch of fog slowly drifted onto the grounds, obscuring anymore of the scene. Ron glimpsed his watch. Hermione stretched her arms, and Harry continued staring into the now completely white Hogwarts grounds.

"I better get back down to the hall. You starved Harry?"

Harry nodded, realising that the growls he now heard, weren't from the giants at all, but from his own stomach. He had only eaten a few mouthfuls of a sandwich, and before that, not much at all.

"Breakfast's gonna' be served soon."

"Yeah, I'll meet you, er, down there in a bit," Harry replied. He wasn't sure how he'd face the rest of the Weasleys, especially Ginny.

But first, Harry plucked the clean robes from the chair and made his way towards the dormitory door, looking forward to a long soak. He turned around. Everything still felt so surreal to him, just like a dream. It felt eerie being back at Hogwarts. It was once the most favourite place in the world, however, after all the destruction and chaos and loss of life he had bore witness too, Hogwarts wasn't really home anymore. It was being with Ron, Hermione - his friends and family that made even the darkest desolate place on earth feel like home. He learned that from the last few months travelling the countryside in only a tent.

"Is Voldemort really gone?" Harry just needed to hear someone say it. After seventeen years of darkness, he just needed those words to sink in, to ground into the very fabric of his soul.

Ron grinned, "Dead and very dusted."

He smiled. Ron clapped him on the back.

Harry made his way toward the empty bathrooms. For the first time in his life a heavy weight had totally lifted from his shoulders. The boy-who-lived had finally become the-boy-who-defeated-the-dark-lord.

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