Chapter 1 Attacked
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, they belong to J.K Rowling.
Harry Potter sighed for what felt like the millionth
time that day. He looked at his watch, which read 12:32. Exactly 2
minutes since he last looked.
It was only the start of the second
week of the summer hols, and already he was so bored. Not that he
ever enjoyed the time he had to spend with the Dursleys, his only
living relatives. They had despised him since he had been born, and
the feeling was completely mutual. As the summer before, his friends'
letters had been brief. But this time he at least understood why. He
also, for the first time in his life, understood exactly why he had
to return to the Dursleys every summer. But that hadn't made it any
easier, and he couldn't wait until the start of his next year at
Howarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. He felt a painful twinge
around his heart as he remembered the events of last year:
Sirius falling through the veil… himself screaming… lupin holding him back… voldemort pointing his wand at him… dumbledore's grave face... trelawney's voice… "the one with the power to vanquish the dark lord will be born as the Seventh month dies…"
He
physically shuddered and forced himself to stop that train of
thought. The memories of the prophecy, and especially his Godfather,
were still far too painful for him to examine.
He had to think of
something to do, just to stop himself going crazy from the terrible
memories, and the sheer boredom he would be facing until Dumbledore
thought it was safe for him to leave Privet Drive. He knew his 2 best
friends Ron and Hermione were already at 12 Grimmauld place, the
headquarters for the order of the phoenix, and although returning
there would also bring back painful memories of Sirius, he would give
anything to be there with them.
He jumped as he heard his uncle's
curt voice calling him from downstairs:
"Potter!"
Obviously
lunch was ready. Well, he supposed gloomily, it was something to do,
even if it meant seeing his cousin, Dudley. Harry sighed yet again,
and left his room, then slowly walked downstairs and into the
kitchen.Later that day, at about 11:00pm, Harry was
still awake. He always had gone to sleep later than the Dursleys, but
it had been even worse recently: he had been suffering from strange
dreams which had left him less than eager to fall asleep. They had
involved him walking, alone, through a dark wood, and in the dreams
he was always sure that someone-or something- was following him. All
the way through he, for some reason, had felt more terrified than
ever before in him life. And he had seen some pretty terrifying
things. Then he always woke up, the terrified feeling still with him,
and his scar slightly twinging painfully.
He was writing to tonks,
lupin and Moody, telling them the he was being treated (slightly)
better than normal, and there was nothing (much) to worry about. He
then replied to Ron and hermione, assuring them, not entirely
truthfully, that he was fine. All his letters were short and fairly
brief, as he did not want to write to anyone about how he was really
feeling, at least not yet. Anyway, that would take a long time to do.
But he knew that because of this, they would all just worry about him
more, so he tried to keep them fairly up-beat. However at the end of
the one to the order, he had to add a postscript:
P.S. WHEN THE HELL CAN I GET OUT OF HERE!
Or, you know, words to that
effect.
When he had finished, he finally realised how tired he
was, and resigned himself to another terrifying night. Little did he
know just how terrifying.
running, half stumbling
through the darkness… feeling the eyes watching him, though not
knowing who they were, or what they wanted…a feeling of unexplained
but absolute terror taking over his mind… his body trembling all
over… all he knew was that someone was after him… someone who
wanted nothing but his death… he couldn't take this much longer…
the fear pounding through him, in his very blood… too intense for
him to bear…
He woke up, nearly crying out. It took him
a while to realize where he was, and that he was safe. His hair was
stuck to him, his face covered in sweat, and yet his body was
freezing, he was shivering all over. The feeling of terror still with
him, still so overpowering, like nothing he had ever felt before that
it took him a while to notice him scar burning painfully on his
forehead, worse than it had in weeks. He took a deep breath to calm
himself, mentally pulling himself together. It was just a dream, he
told himself. But was it just a dream? Usually when he had recurring
dreams, they meant something. Should he tell someone? But who? The
weasleys would just worry about him, more than he wanted, and there
was nothing hermione could really do. Dumbledore and the order were
probably too busy to be worrying about the stupid dreams of a 15 year
old teenager. Again he missed Sirius so badly his heart ached.
Another wave of grief hit him, and he couldn't believe that he was
really dead. He would have been able to tell Sirius, he would have
cared, and he would have been able to help him. But it was all his
fault that Sirius was dead, (or so he believed), completely his
fault, and nothing could bring him back. Furious he blinked back the
tears that threatened yet again No, he wouldn't tell anyone is
dreams. But he couldn't shake of this uneasy feeling. He got out of
bed, and looked at his watch. 2:00 am, and retrieved his wand from on
his desk, and put it on his bedside table. It comforted him slightly;
at least he would be able to defend him self. From what exactly, he
wasn't sure. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Getting back into
bed, he found that he probably wouldn't be able to go to sleep
again at all that night.
That was when he noticed what looked like
a strangely shaped shadow on the floor. But the shadow was drifting
toward him, up his bed and onto his terrified body. That was when he
felt it; he could no longer breathe properly, it was suffocating him!
He felt himself panicking, whilst desperately gasping for air. Calm
down, he told his barely functioning mind. He concentrated, and
remembered reading something about this in 'Fantastic Beasts and
Where to Find Them.' This is a Lethifold, he realized, the only way
to defeat it is the Patronus. Summoning what felt like his last ounce
of strength, he thought of one of the few happy thoughts he had, his
best friends, and conjured a stag Patronus. At once he felt himself
able to breathe again, and saw the Lethifold retreat out of his open
window into the night.