Disclaimer:
HARRY POTTER, characters, names, and all related indicia are trademarks of and Warner Bros. Harry Potter Publishing Rights J.K. Rowling. All unrecognizable characters, trademarks, and all related indicia come from the imagination of Amy Halo Archer. No profit is being made from the story Harry Potter and the Angel of Angel Falls. Amy Halo Archer has no connection whatsoever to J.K. Rowling.
Harry Potter and the Angel of Angel Falls
By Amy Halo Archer
Chapter One
Memories Fading BackA young pale girl rocked herself, hidden from sight in the corner. Her light brown hair was limp and filthy. Her pillowcase clothing hung baggy on her, the result of lack of food, and depression.
Swiftly, an icy wind wrapped around her, causing her to her shiver violently. "Please," she whispered aloud to no one, "please let it be a draft. Please" But she knew better. It wasn't a draft. Closer and closer they came, their long hoarse rattling breaths ringing in her ears.
She wrapped her thin frozen arms around her legs, wishing that they would go away. That it was all a nightmare, just wishing away, like she had done everyday for the past six years.
"Think of happy thoughts, think of happy thoughts," but the thoughts wouldn't come. They all faded away when sharp, chilling hands clamped themselves around her arms, pulling her up.
"No!" she screamed. Her cries ringing through out the halls, echoing off the steel bars of the cells. No one would help her; no one could hear her. They were all were trapped in the terrors of their own past.
"NO! Let go!" she wailed feebly as the dementor dragged her along the chilling icy floor.
Abruptly, they stopped. She closed her hands tightly around her ears, not wanting to hear anything. If they were going to kill her, she didn't want to know about it. "Please let it be quick," she begged silently to herself.
Then, instead of feeling bony hands close around her and ice running through her body, she felt warm hands pull her up. Warmth spread though out her body, giving her an amazing sensation. It felt like a cool autumn day with the kind rays of the sun warming her back.
Looking up, she couldn't believe it. She never thought that she'd ever see her again. Tears flooded and the world went black.
He was flying. The wind ran through his hair and a flash of gold flew by his face. Snapping himself out of the daze, he followed the flash of gold. Sticking his hand out, he grabbed the Golden Snitch from the air. The crowd chanted his name; his teammates surrounded him.
A flash of smoke and no one was to be seen. Cold winds went around him and he saw it. A lifeless body, lying on the hard floor. It was the body of Cedric Diggory. A crackle broke the silence of the air, and Lord Voldemort appeared. His wand pointed directly at him. "Dad! Help me! He's going to kill me!" he cried. Lord Voldemort's snake like lips cracked into a horrifying smile. "Advada Ked— "
"Get up!"
Young Harry Potter shot out of bed, grabbing his wand from the nightstand beside him and pointed it at the source of the disturbance, with a spell on his lips, ready to attack.
"Put that thing away!" screeched his Aunt Petunia as she ducked down.
"I'm sorry," panted Harry. He was sweating and felt as if every drop of strength had been drained out of him. "I was having a nightmare," Harry muttered, knowing very well that his aunt didn't care.
"Very well," said Aunt Petunia as she straightened herself up. "Get up. Your Uncle and I are taking Dudley to an adventure park and dinner for his birthday. We'll be gone all day and you'll be staying at Mrs. Figgs."
"Fine," mumbled Harry as the blurry figure of his Aunt Petunia left the room. Once Harry heard the door click shut, he fell back on his pillows with a sigh. He ran his fingers through his already untidy hair and thought about the nightmare.
It was one of many nightmares. Almost every night, they would come. It would always start out with a happy memory, then, it would pull him into that night, the night that Cedric was killed, the night that Lord Voldemort came back, the night that he saw the ghost of Voldemorts' victims, the night he saw for himself, his mother and father.
A tingle began to prick at his eyes at the thought of his parents. He closed his eyes and heard the voice of his mother, of her begging Lord Voldemort to not kill Harry. He could hear his father screaming to his mother, to take Harry and run, while he tried to stop Voldemort.
Not wanting to hear anymore, Harry opened his eyes and rubbed his face, trying to scrub the thoughts and voices away from his mind. Harry pulled his glasses off of his nightstand and the hazy world came into perfect view. He looked around the room and laughed silently to himself. It was ordinary to him, but if anyone else had come into his room, they would gape in bewilderment.
On his desk was a cage that held his snowy white owl that he had received as a gift from his friend Hagrid on his eleventh birthday. His desk was littered with pieces of parchment. At the foot of his bed was a large black trunk that contained a scarlet robe, several black robes, books with titles such as "The Standard Book of Spells," a cauldron, and a broomstick.
Harry left the warm comfort of his bed and walked over to his desk where he had a calendar marking the days left until September first. Picking up his quill, he marked off the date July 23, sighing over the fact that he had to spend a month and eight more days in the Dursley household. Harry looked over to his sleeping owl, Hedwig, and said to her, "Only a month left until we're free Hedwig. Only a month left."
Harry glanced over at the clock. It was 8 o'clock in the morning. His stomach started to grumble, so he quickly changed out of his clothes and into the clothes that the Dursleys had given him, which were 4 times too big because they were Dudley's old clothes.
Harry stepped out into the hall and saw Dudley walking towards the lavatory. Harry remembered how the day before, Dudley blocked the entrance and wouldn't let Harry go pee. Harry, wanting revenge, ran into the lavatory and slammed the door shut on Dudley.
As he quickly locked the door, he could hear Dudley's heavy footsteps pound down the hall and his fat obese hands banging against the door. Harry began to wonder if the door could hold against Dudley's heavy weight.
As Dudley continued his attack on the door, Harry looked at himself in the mirror. He would be 15 in a matter of days and already he was just as tall as Uncle Vernon. Over the summer, he had matured more. He started to build muscles and he had gotten darker from the long hours of Aunt Petunia's chores and the backbreaking labor demanded by Uncle Vernon.
His eyes were an emerald green that he had inherited from his mother. He had shadow black untidy hair that no matter what he did would not stay down. His messy hair hid a scar, a scar that was in the form of a lightning bolt. It was from the night that Voldemort attacked.
Once, when he was younger, he had always loved having that scar. It had made him feel special from the rest of the world, but now, he hated it. It was a constant reminder of the danger of Voldemort, a constant reminder that he was the Boy Who Lived. It was a target for people to gawk at when he walked down the streets of the wizarding world. It was the cause of whispers and turning heads.
Harry closed his eyes and shook away his thoughts. It felt like all he had done today was remember the pain in his young life. Once he opened his eyes, he realized that he no longer heard Dudley's pounding. Fear started to flood into Harry. Where was Dudley?
Slowly, Harry began to open the door slowly just in case Dudley was hiding and waiting for Harry to come out so he could play his favorite game, Harry Hunting. Harry cautiously opened the door and peered out, looking for Dudley. Not seeing the large blob of Dudley, Harry walked out and started down the stairs.
Oddly enough, Dudley wasn't in sight. Harry quickly ran down to the kitchen, where Uncle Vernon was sitting, reading his newspaper.
"Cut your hair!" barked Uncle Vernon like he had everyday for the past 14 years except these days it wasn't as harsh. It was probably because Uncle Vernon was afraid that Harry would write to Sirius and Sirius would come, turn them into toads, cut them up, and use them for a potion.
Harry sat down across from Uncle Vernon and picked up the front page of the newspaper, which Uncle Vernon had already finished. Harry's eyes quickly scanned the paper, looking for anything that might possibly have to do with Voldemort: a car crash, a murder, and kidnapping, something, anything.
Finally, after scanning the newspaper four times, with Uncle Vernon throwing glances of curiosity, Harry decided that there was nothing in the newspaper that had any connection with Voldemort. Setting down the paper, Harry almost jumped back, because staring very hard at him was his Aunt Petunia. Aunt Petunia didn't even like to say Harry's name, yet here she was, gawking at him like some new creature in a zoo.
"Is something the matter, Aunt Petunia?" asked Harry as politely as possible.
Aunt Petunia squinted her eyes as if she was trying to see through Harry before she said very quickly, "No. Nothing is the matter," then hesitating before she added, "I hope."
Before Harry could ask her what she meant, Uncle Vernon grumbled, "Darling, where is Dudley? We're going to be late." At Uncle Vernon's voice, Aunt Petunia's expression changed from melancholy to joyous, but Harry had a feeling that she was just putting on a show.
"I'm not sure dearest, but the last time I saw him, he was running down the hall, out into the backyard," said Aunt Petunia sweetly. At that moment, Dudley walked in, with a wet spot on his pants. Harry started to laugh, but quickly turned it into a cough when Dudley cast his beady little eyes at Harry.
Aunt Petunia rushed over to Dudley and pulled out the chair. "Would you like something to eat before my special boy's big day, Duddy?"
At the mention of food, Dudley's eyes turned from dark to bright. Dudley nodded happily. It reminded Harry of those little toy dogs that people put in their cars that would just keep nodding while you drove.
Aunt Petunia rushed to the stove and made Dudley a large plate piled with pancakes, eggs, bacon, potatoes, and sausages. A growl from Harry's stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten yet. Harry politely cleared his throat and smiled at his aunt.
Aunt Petunia looked annoyed at Harry for a moment, before understand what he meant. She roughly handed him a plate that looked like it had only a teaspoon of potatoes, one pancake, one egg, half a piece of bacon, and a quarter of a sausage.
Normally, Harry would have asked for a little more, but he just smiled happily at the small portion and ate it. Little did the Dursleys know, but Harry had a lot of goods hidden away under a loose floorboard under his bed.
Harry, not wanting to go another summer starved, had sent an owl to one of his best friends, Ron Weasley, asking him to send Harry something once a week so that he wouldn't starve to death. In exchange, although Ron refused it at first, Harry would send Ron 2 Galleons.
Harry quickly finished off his breakfast and as he got up to go to his room, he said to Aunt Petunia, "That was an excellent breakfast Aunt Petunia." Aunt Petunia scowled at Harry as he made his way up the stairs.
Once in his room, Harry shut the door tight and pulled up the loose floorboard. Inside was a large white bag. Harry pulled out the bag and opened it to see the "treasure" within.
Inside the bag were boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Droobles Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Licorice Wands, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, and wrapped sandwiches, which were curtsey of Mrs. Weasley when she found out what Harry an Ron were doing.
Harry quickly pulled out one for the wrapped sandwiches and ate it. Chewing on his sandwich, Harry closed the bag and placed it back in its place under the floorboard as if it were a priceless family heirloom.
Making sure that the floorboard was tightly in place, Harry stood up and nearly choked on his sandwich. When he stood up, he was eye to eye with an owl. Its large yellow eyes had surprised him. The owl hooted and dropped a newspaper at his feet. Harry ran over to his trunk and dug out 5 Knuts. While placing the money in the owl's pouch, Harry gave it his last bit of the sandwich for it looked very hungry. The owl hooted happily in thanks.
"There's no point in the two of us starving," said Harry as the owl took a drink from Hedwig's water bowl. Harry sat and watched the two owls. It had taken Harry weeks to figure out that it was the same owl each time that delivered his paper. During this time, Hedwig and the owl had become friends.
While the two owls hooted away, Harry picked up the newspaper. It was the Daily Prophet. Harry had subscribed to it to keep an eye out for Voldemort. Harry scanned the front page and saw no signs of Voldemort.
In the corner of the paper, a black and white photo of a girl caught Harry's eye. She had long flowing hair and big eyes. Next to the picture were the words, "First Ever Exchange." Before Harry could read more, Uncle Vernon was banging Harry's door.
"Open up boy! We're leaving!" barked Uncle Vernon. Harry quickly tossed the paper into his trunk and shut his window after the owl left. Quickly saying goodbye to Hedwig, Harry ran to the door and opened it. Uncle Vernon had already gone downstairs. Harry quickly jogged down the stairs.
"It's about time," said Dudley smugly, "If you were any slower, I'd call you-"
"Call me a what? You?" countered Harry.
The gears in Dudley's puny little brain (if he had one) began to work, trying to come up with a smart aleck remark, but before he could, Uncle Vernon barked for them (mainly Harry) to get into the car.
As Harry made his way to the car, he felt Dudley's fat hand shove him onto the pavement. Resisting the urge to jump up and punch Dudley square in the stomach, Harry pushed himself off of the ground when he saw a blue light by the rose bushes.
Harry blinked and looked for the light, but it was gone. Whatever it was that was there was gone. Harry walked over to the rose bushes and looked around. He swore he had seen something, but what?
Before he could investigate further more, Uncle Vernon honked the horn, making Harry jump.
"Hurry up now! We haven't got all day!" whined Dudley; "I want to get to the park before the lines start! And I'm getting hungry!"
Angrily, Harry stomped over to the car and whispered under his breath, "I'm coming, you dim-witted cream puff."
As the car pulled out of the driveway, Harry thought about the blue light. "Where have I seen that before?" was the question that drilled Harry's mind. Harry rested his head on his hand. "Why is that so familiar?" whispered Harry silently to himself.
Harry ran his fingers through his already messy hair and across his forehead. He felt his lighting scar, then, it hit him. He knew where he had seen that light before. That light was the same light he saw every time she left or arrived. How could he not remember her? Harry quickly turned around in his seat and looked out the back window, looking for any sign of her, but saw none.
Harry reached into the back of his pocket and pulled out his wallet. In his wallet were a few bills and 2 pictures, one of his parents and one of his friends. Harry pulled out the picture of his best friends and examined it.
It had been taken in the Gryffindor common room. It was in their third year after the Qudditch final when Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team had won the Qudditch Cup. Harry had convinced Hermione to put down her book and have a drink when Colin Creevey came up with his camera.
In the picture was Ron with confetti in his fiery hair. Next to Ron was Hermione with a bottle of butter beer in her hand, trying to swig it down quickly so she could get back to studying. Harry stood next to Hermione, trying to duck from the drops of butter beer that missed Hermione's mouth and next to Harry was a young Asian girl.
She had long dark brown hair was yanked back into a ponytail. Her thin black glasses framed her deep brown eyes. She smiled a smile that was rarely ever seen.
There was something significant that wasn't visible in the picture; a mark on the left side of her neck. It was two jagged lines that were crossed, forming an 'x.' It was so small, most people would have thought it was a birthmark
Harry gripped the photo and thought silently, "What were you doing here, Emily?"