Summery:

Eleven years have passed since the defeat of the Dark Wizard Voldemort. The world is once again as it should be, at least it seems that way to Harry Weasley. Unaware of the great destiny set in motion long before his time he faces his first year at school and an evil from his past. Rated T+ for VL.

Disclaimer:

J.K. Rowling is the owner of Harry Potter. Stories she has written and characters that she created are not mine. I don't take credit for any of her work. I do thank her for providing such a wonderful universe to dream about and write in.

This work may be republished or freely distributed but may not be sold, on any other website or in any other form. If you desire to do so, please do not remove my pen name from this work and feel free to let me know where else it's been posted.

Advanced Authors notes:

Dear reader,

Before you embark on the journey through the fantastic world of fan-fiction there are some things you should be made aware of. Firstly this story is a continuation of a previously written fan-fiction "Harry Potter and the Shadow of Evil," a part two as it were. As such I highly recommend that you travel the path of that story before diving head long into this one.

Many facts that are important in that story will be very important in this one and it might be very confusing (well more so anyways) for anyone who has not read the pervious story to understand some things that are happening here.

Also note that this is (now) an alternate universe (more so then you might realize) story and takes the place of book 7 (kind of), just as my previous story "Harry Potter and the Shadow of Evil" takes the place of book 6 (again, kind of). Therefore if you see or don't see a character(s) that arrived, left, died, danced a jig or did something after the end of the fifth book don't worry it never happened here. So there.

This story is not intended for younger audiences. I am profane and graphic in my writing (and other aspects of my life), both will be used unnecessarily as is necessary. However it is not as sexually explicit as my last story (or much of my other unpublished works, Harry Potter and His Magical Wand anyone? (if you don't get the joke you're to young)) therefore I am giving it only a Teen rating and believe that 14+ should be okay for this one, I hope. Besides if you don't know these dirty words by now its high time you learn um!

Lastly please remember this is a free work of fan fiction. I do have a job and a life beyond these pages (though some days it doesn't seem or feel like much of either), as such please remember this story is what it is, FREE! I do my best but I can only do so much, so if you happen across spelling mistakes you'll just have to deal with it and move on. I'm dyslexic as it is so it's a marvel I can write anything!

Now you've been warned. Read on at your own risk.

Starwin

Harry Weasley and the Reflection of Vengeance

By: Starwin

Chapter 1 – The Boy Who Died

It was not a particularly nice day in downtown London. Clouds hung heavy upon the sky, threatening to throw down rain at any moment and drench the unhappy people below. The sun absolutely refused to come out to play. And worst of all Vernon Dursley was drunk, again, or not drunk enough, he hadn't yet figured out which.

Most of his life he'd stayed clear of the brown poison, except for a few sips here and there. Though he wished now that he hadn't as it might have eased his torment. Vernon, or Mr. Dursley as he preferred to be called, but usually wasn't, sat alone at a small round table in the glum darkness of Rumberkins, a small, dirty, pub that served alcohol before noon.

Mr. Dursley had long lost count of how many glasses he had forced down of whatever it was that he was drinking. Normally the stuff worked its wonders on him and he was left in a thought-less state of bliss where he neither felt nor remembered any of the torments that plagued him. But today the miracle elixir seemed to have lost its potency.

"Parbabbly 'ater dow'en," he muttered drunkenly into the glass at his lips. It was not really his fault that he was the way he was. The last eleven years had been hard on him. Nothing had gone right since… since that night. Mr. Dursley coughed into his glass as he remembered events long past. The freaks at the door, the shouting, the unforgettable pain. His leg twitched involuntarily, it had never been the same since that night.

Mr. Dursley tilted the glass again drinking deep of it contents. For a moment the memories and the pain vanished and he drooped as though longing for sleep.

"The Wizengamot finds you guilty of abuse, neglect, child endangerment…" The shrill voice was cut off as Mr. Dursley shivered out of his daydream, his eyes snapped open and his drunkenness vanished for a moment. For an instant he thought he had been some place else… but no that had been hallucination. It wasn't real, he hadn't been sentenced to Azkaban… it had all been in his head… hadn't it?

Mr. Dursley reached into his pocket and pulled a small white rectangular shaped object from his coat. It was hard for him to see the little numbers on it but after a few tries a ringing came from the other end. Two rings, no answer. Three rings, still no answer. A fourth ring and… "Click, You have reached the Dallonbar Residence" said a sweet high pitched voice that Mr. Dursley recognized at once. "We're not home at the moment, or unable to come to the phone. Please leave your name, number and a short…"

"Petunia," Mr. Dursley broke in not waiting for the message to finish. His mind only half realizing that he was listening to a recording. "It's me," he said stupidly. "Look I just… I wanted to say…" His voice trailed off as the sound of the receiver being lifted reached his ear immediately followed by a soft click of it being hung up. Then the sound of a dial tone hummed in his ear.

Mr. Dursley slammed his phone down onto the table and it blinked once before going dark. He put his head in his hands, his brain addled. What he needed was a smoke, yes that would certainly calm his nerves.

Pulling a few bills from his pocket he tossed them haphazardly onto the table, leaving only just enough to cover his drinks. Then lumbered out into the dim light of day.

---

Mr. Dursley patted down his pockets looking for a pack of fags but he must have smoked them all for there were none to be found. The world was in rough focus. People seemed to be drifting in and out of existence.

Looking around Mr. Dursley spotted a grocer across the way. Careful, so as not to fall down and make an ass of himself, he crossed the street headed for the shop.

"Look out Harry!" cried the voice of a woman from a direction Mr. Dursley couldn't place. He felt an impact some place around his waist and was thrown off balance, stumbled and fell to the ground. "I'm terribly sorry," came the woman's distant voice.

Mr. Dursley squinted trying to get a better view of his assailant, everything was moving very slowly and seemed to be very far away. A Reddish blob swam back and forth at the end of a long black tunnel. He couldn't make out a face, but he found an outstretched hand. His brain moving sluggishly, he reached out and felt a smaller hand take hold and with astonishing strength, pull him back to his feet. Mr. Dursley's vision was starting to get better and he could now make out the form of a young, short, athletic looking woman with fiery red hair standing in front of him. She had a look of concern on her face.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "My son's just excited, it's his birthday today." Mr. Dursley looked down and felt burning ice blast through his veins. A small boy with red hair, maybe 10 or 11 was standing next to the woman and looking up at him with shockingly green eyes and… and… that scar. It couldn't be, no, it was impossible but still… that scar… those eyes…

"I'm sorry sir," the boy said apologetically. That voice.

"Quiet… Quiet alright…" Mr. Dursley stammered.

"Alright," said the woman with a smile, "excuse us, we're in a hurry I'm afraid." Then the two of them moved off, vanishing into the crowd as though they had never been. Mr. Dursley was still in shock, that boy… that boy had been his nephew… but that was impossible… his nephew… was dead.

---

Half a pack of calm later Mr. Dursley was trying to remember the events of only a few minutes ago. It couldn't have been his nephew, he decided, that was impossible. He had been drunk and been seeing things. Briefly he considered calling his ex-wife again, just to make sure, but decided he wanted another fag instead. Tossing his half finished cigarette to the ground he pulled out a new one and lit it. It was like a breath of fresh air even though it tasted just as bad as the first.

What he needed was a quiet place to think, somewhere with less people. A group of young girls passed by and shot Mr. Dursley disgusted looks as they waved their hands in front of their faces trying to push away the foul smell of smoke from their nostrils. Mr. Dursley couldn't help but grin, and snuck glance at their backsides as they passed. He took another long draw on his smoke and coughed.

"Damnit," he cursed and flicked the stupid thing away from him. As his eyes followed the tumbling white death stick he caught a glimpse of the same red hair he had seen only a short while before. Turning his head he followed the forms of mother and son as they vanished turned down a street and were hidden from view by a shop. He would put this to rest. With quick footsteps Mr. Dursley set off after them.

He reached the corner just in time to catch a sight of a door closing not far down street. The two had vanished, like ma…mag… like some sort of… vanishing… something. As Mr. Dursley took a step, he felt a sharp chill run up his spine. The buildings grew taller and towered menacingly around him, the sun hid deeper in the thick clouds and the noise of the busy street behind him faded to silence so that every step he took reverberated off the walls. Everything about this street felt wrong. Maybe it was just the liquor in his blood or the fact that he hadn't slept well for a long, long time. But this place, it felt like he shouldn't be here.

Despite all the warning signs he pushed on. He was going to learn the truth. He was going to find out who that boy was! Mr. Dursley reached the door, took the handle and pulled it open. He stood dumbstruck for a moment.

On the other side he had expected,…well… he hadn't really expected anything. But he certainly hadn't expected this. Another pub dark and unfriendly. The woman with red hair was nowhere to be found either. Mr. Dursley move further inside looking around cautiously. He became dimly aware that all the talking had stopped abruptly upon his entry. He could feel everyone's eyes upon him.

"Well, well, well," said a voice that halted Vernon Dursley in his tracks. "Never thought I'd cross paths with you again, Dursley." Slowly, like someone knowing that death was watching him, Mr. Dursley turned his head, his eyes wide with fear. In the darkest corner of the pub, at a solitary table was a man with an electric blue eye, fixed on Mr. Dursley. He rose slowly and then the dull thud of a peg leg echoed about the room as the man took a step closer.

"You! Y-y-you stay the hell away from me!" cried Mr. Dursley. Panic stricken, Mr. Dursley stumbled backwards tripping and crashing into a table and knocking it over. The thuds of the peg leg stopped. Mr. Dursley chanced a glance, maybe the man had simply left.

The unnatural blue eye was only inches from Mr. Dursley's face.

"Please, I beg of you don't…" Mr. Dursley whimpered as he tried to hide behind his arms. "please…plea…"

The man held a long strip of wood in his hand pointed it at Mr. Dursley as though it were some kind of sword.

"If it were up to me," the man said in a gruff voice, "I would, for the things you did to that boy. But I'm not going to kill you. It's not my job anymore. I'm just going to put an end to this problem once and for all. Obliviate!"

---

"This next patient is an interesting case," said Doctor Blair as she led her students to the next room. She opened the small viewing window into the padded cell. A thin balding man sat huddled in the corner mumbling to himself. "He suffered a rather bad breakdown after his nephew died in a plane crash some 11 years ago. After that he went missing for almost 10 years and only recently turned up again. He firmly believes that he has been in prison for the last 10 years paying for crimes he claims he didn't commit, obviously his subconscious believe otherwise.

"This is interesting because it shows the interplay of how conscious thought can be interpreted by the unconscious mind. Now just ahead…" Doctor Blair's voice trailed off as she led the pack of students to the next room.

"They're everywhere," muttered Mr. Dursley. "In the government, our schools, on the streets… watching, controlling…" he looked wildly around. "But I got their ticket, I know their weakness… dead? I know he's dead… But I saw him! His hair may have been a different color… but…no… I didn't kill him… you can't send me back please no, no!"

The nurse moved over to the open viewing window and silently slid it shut.

(more) Authors Notes:

These notes just seem to be everywhere don't they? At the start, at the end, in the… middle? No wait the middle was the story or was it? No, no it was the story… Anyhooo

A few thoughts on this chapter before you move on. Its gone through many, many (repeat a whole lot more times), many, rewrites one of those things I've worked on for over a year now zomsgh 1 chapter in 1 year?! No with and if and Yes with a but.

In any case I bet you're wondering, dear reader, where the heck is Harry? After all isn't this a story about him? Yet this chapter doesn't seem to focus on him at all. There are two reasons for this. Firstly it was slightly cheaper and secondly it has the words Don't Panic written in large friendly letters on the cover… wait… wrong story. reset.

As I was saying there are two reasons for this. Firstly the first book in the Harry Potter series starts with Vernon Dursley and Harry isn't introduced until the very, very last part. This is sort of a mimic of that in the sense that it is also about Vernon Dursley and the Muggle world as well as how Harry once again comes to muck things up in his life.

Secondly we get a quick glimpse of the Dursley family, as we always do, and get to see what has happened with them.

Thirdly, okay I said two but really its three, after trying many different openings this seemed to work the best.

One last note and I'll stop bugging you. As you embark upon this journey that, unlike my previous work, which was time rushed (I did the whole thing in like a month by-the-way) and pushed almost chapter to chapter onto the net, I have taken my time here and fully completed my story before posting any part of it. As such this should provide a more fulfilling experience with hopefully less mispelkings and fewer plot holes… yeah, well, we can only hope.

Starwin