It was a misleadingly quiet night in one neighborhood in Little Whinging. There was no scuttle of nocturnal creatures nor the chirping of insects, even the wind seemed to stop. Most slept, unperturbed by the environmental oddity. However, there was one person who was made anxious by the stillness of the night, a young wizard named Harry Potter. He was the only one who understood that a peacefulness like the one that had settled over the little neighborhood could only be the calm before the storm. He silently and exasperatedly wondered what the world would throw at him now. He was still reeling from the last blow it dealt him.
Harry hadn't been able to get a full night's rest after seeing Cedric killed right in front of him and then immediately having to fight a newly resurrected Voldemort. Nightmares of the other boy's lifeless eyes staring back at him, the pain of being touched and tortured by that slimy, snake-faced bastard, and the pure terror that coursed through him at being alone and outnumbered by Voldemort and his cronies plagued him constantly, leaving him paranoid. Determined to never be ambushed like that again, he was always on the look-out for catastrophe, worrying about attacks from Death Eaters, or heavens forbid, Voldemort himself.
He couldn't help but be angry at Dumbledore for just dropping him back at the Dursley's with no regard for what he wanted. Then again, he shouldn't be surprised that the headmaster ignored his complaints and concerns. Harry was more frustrated with himself for not being used to it by now. Dumbledore had the habit of letting Harry fight perilous battles, patting him on the head and then shipping him right back to a family that didn't want nor care for him.
All his thoughts have had that bitter edge since he returned, but Harry thinks he's earned the right to be upset. Not only was the headmaster ignoring his concerns about the danger a newly revived Voldemort posed, his own friends and godfather seemed to be ignoring him as well. His only contacts to the Wizarding World cut off, Harry was effectively in the dark. His only option was to be hyper vigilant to avoid being caught off guard by the many threats posed to his life.
He was more hurt by Sirius' silence than that of his friends. He'd used Sirius' name to get the Dursley's to leave him alone, but that was the most help the man had been to him since he'd left Hogwarts. Harry thought that his godfather, of all people, would understand that the last thing he needed right now was to be left alone. Harry had fought against the most powerful dark wizard of the century, for pete's sake! Grown wizards shook and flinched at the mere mention of his name and Harry had crossed wands with him no more than a month ago. The lackadaisical way they treated his experiences had long since infuriated him. From possessed professors to basilisks to dementors and now Voldemort himself, no one ever asked after him, assuming that he'd be fine; he didn't even get a cursory check up in the Hospital Wing! They seemed to not even consider the consequences of a fourteen year old boy being tortured and then forced to fight for his life against a more experienced, ruthless madman.
It was completely normal for him to risk his life every single year. Merlin, it was like he wasn't human! He wasn't Harry Potter, but the Boy-Who-Lived, a tool they wielded to fight battles for them, a hero one day and a pariah the next. He saved the day because all the adults around him were either ignorant or incompetent and when he was done they locked him away until they needed him again. He had no fears, no wants, and he certainly did not cause trouble or complain. He supposed that he should be used to that too. The Dursley's made clear that what little worth he had was rooted in his usefulness and that he had no value as a person. He had foolishly assumed that Sirius would be different, better than his muggle family at least, but he was wrong. It stung, but he wouldn't make the same mistake. He'd learnt his lesson about hoping to be cared for, he thought cynically.
No one would look out for him, he was alone.
With a particularly pathetic sigh, Harry stared out his window, robbed of sleep. Hedwig, his only constant companion, sat in her cage, oddly silent as well. Having nothing else to do, Harry watched over the street. Unbeknownst to him, a hooded figure outside 4 Privet Drive did the same.
Harry was jerked out of his fitful rest by the sound of his aunt screaming. "Wake up, you lazy ingrate!" She screeched. "Breakfast better be on the table in fifteen minutes or you'll be sorry!"
Her shouts were followed by three rapid bangs on the door. Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes. He grumbled under his breath before giving Hedwig, who was also started by the shrill voice, a comforting caress. "I'll be back with some food for you, girl, then I'll let you go." He assured her.
He got through breakfast quickly, snagging pieces of food and shoving them in his pocket. When he finished cooking, Petunia haphazardly tossed a piece of toast and a morsel of eggs onto a plate and handed it to him. "After you finish that, get to the garden! I want it watered and weeded in the next hour!" She ordered.
Harry rolled his eyes, not even bothering to comment on the ridiculous time frame she'd given him. He ate his food quickly, relieved that Vernon seemed engrossed in the paper and Dudley in his food. He was getting ready to leave when the large man seemed to realize he hadn't had an opportunity to make Harry's life difficult. "Make sure you mow the lawn too, boy." He grunted.
Dudley grinned maliciously and Harry reckoned that a smile on Dudley Dursley's face made him decidedly uglier. Ignoring his cousin, Harry went upstairs to give Hedwig her share. After she was fed, he let her out of her cage. She gave him an affectionate nip before flying off, leaving him to watch wistfully after her. He waited until she was no longer visible before going outside, wincing at the bright sun and sweltering heat. Of course Petunia would pick the hottest day of the week to make him go outside. She had probably watched the weather forecast like a hawk, cackling gleefully when the temperatures rose. He snorted at the image before getting to work.
He was mowing the lawn when a chill slithered down his spine. He looked around, not really sure to expect, but wishing he had his wand anyway. He didn't see anyone, but Harry knew that that didn't mean there was no one there. He stayed on guard for the rest of the time he was outside, constantly keeping an eye out for the first sign of trouble. He never saw anyone or anything, but that didn't reassure him. It certainly didn't help that the chill remained, long after he went back in the house.
Frustrated, Harry took a shower hot enough to burn. It doesn't help either, making him feel exposed and vulnerable. He didn't shower for long, hoping to find some solace in Dudley's spare room. He shamelessly closed the curtains, immediately feeling comforted by the darkness. Despite the small comfort, the chill doesn't leave, as if it was etched into his spine. He paced restlessly, reassuring himself that even if there was someone outside, they couldn't see him through the curtains. "Stop that racket!" Petunia hollered.
Groaning, Harry threw himself on the bed. He wished desperately that he had something to distract himself with, but without his school books and no letters from his Hermione or Ron, Harry remained at the mercy of the chill.
Harry found himself swathed in darkness. It was different from the usual darkness he dreams of. This darkness held him close and cradled him instead of smothering him. It mimicked his movements and surrounded him, smooth as silk instead of thrashing him about, fighting for dominance over the space they were occupying. It hovered mere millimeters from his skin, whispering comforting words instead of omens. He couldn't hear what was being whispered, but the tone was rushed and exultant. It begged for his consent, to be wanted, to be accepted by him. Harry didn't hesitate in agreeing to whatever this pleasant darkness desired of him. When it wrapped around him and sunk into his skin, Harry felt none of the usual pain that accompanies his dreams. Instead, there was an intense sense of relief that settled over his entire body.
"Finally," thousands of voices seemed to breathe at once.
Green eyes snapped open and Harry scrambled into a defensive position, looking for the source of the voices he just heard. Once again, despite being sure that something was lurking in the room, he was unable to actually see anything. "Am I going mad?" He asked the empty room, breathlessly.
Thankfully, no one answered.
In an empty office, in a castle, in Scotland, an alarm blared. The wizard they're made to alert was nowhere to be seen, however, and its warning went unheard. It echoed in the empty room before going silent. With no one to heed its warning, the prodigious rise of dark magic that seemed to engulf Surrey goes unnoticed. It rustled the trees, swirling and shaking houses and cars. Anyone unfortunate enough to be outside that night would suddenly find themselves resisting a harsh wind that threatened to knock them off their feet. Of course, they could never have known that the almost tangible wind consisted purely of magic, magic that was searching for its host. Perhaps if someone had heard the alarm, or if someone on Privet Drive had glanced out their window for only a second, they would have noticed that the miasma of magic seemed to coalesce at 4 Privet Drive. Instead, the only warning of the times to come went unseen and overlooked.
(This is a decidedly different story, mostly because it'll (hopefully!) have more of a realistic build up, characterization, relationship between characters, but don't worry, it's still got the main points of the story I posted six years ago! I haven't read Harry Potter recently enough to get all the small details, so if there's a discrepancy, just jot that down to it being extremely AU! Reviews are heavily encouraged!)