Brief Summary: This starts off the sixth you at Hogwarts, with some new
people stepping into Harry and the other student's lives. Also, the death
from the fifth book may not be what it seems. Don't read unless you've
finished Rowling's latest work.
A/N: Well, here is my first attempt at a fanfic. I would greatly appreciate if anyone made a review. This story takes place after the fifth book, so don't go any further unless you've managed to read through it yet. Also, I don't title the chapters, hope you don't mind. Please review.
-Anna Dearest
Sixth Year and a Lifetime of Worries
Chapter One
A feeling of peace settled over the small house on Privet Drive, engulfing its occupants with sleep. Petunia and Vernon Dursley settled in to bed, while their large son, Dudley Dursley, was already rattling the walls with his all too impressive snores. One, or perhaps two if you included the snowy owl Hedwig, remained awake in the dreary atmosphere that was normal for number 4 Privet Drive. The Dursleys' nephew sat awake.
Harry Potter, his nest of jet-black hair shooting out in all directions, tried to flatten the mess as he stared hopelessly out of the square window in his room. His fingers ran along the all too familiar scar on his forehead, his emerald green eyes puzzled. With a huge sigh, the scrawny fifteen, going on sixteen year old boy threw himself on his bed, not wanting to sleep, but knowing he would. The sinking feeling in his heart at the thought of dreaming tormented him, he'd see the same thing again, his godfather.
Since returning to his aunt and uncle's house for the summer, Sirius had been the only thing on his mind. Constant dreams of him still being alive and well gave Harry hope until he woke up traumatized at the thought of his loss, his hopes scattered like the broken glass of the mirror Sirius had given him, now at the bottom of his trunk, the top of his thoughts. Harry knew that he couldn't ignore his drooping eyes much longer, the dreams of his lost godfather were coming for him, and he had no defense against them whatsoever.
Just as Harry's eyes fell and all was blackness, he thought he saw a shadow out of the corner of his eyes. A mouse, a rat, maybe just some harmless bug? It didn't matter.He was too tired to care. Right before sleep claimed him completely, he entertained himself with the image of Aunt Petunia encountering a rodent in her perfect home, which wasn't home to Harry at all.
He was falling through blackness, if it weren't for the whirling feeling in his stomach, he'd believe himself to be completely stationary, just a body lying in the dark. A feeling of cold crept upon him as he made his landing, body flat against the floor, eyes closed, too scared to open them; there's no telling what he'd see. To one side of him he could hear whispering, voices all sounding as though trapped. Harry dared to open his eyes. He was in the same chamber...the chamber Sirius died in just weeks before. Harry tried to fight himself, tried to close his eyes again, to tear them from the veil, all to no avail. His eyes remained glued to the black veil, which fluttered as if it were part of a breeze sweeping through the chamber. The breeze caught Harry too, and he felt warm and cold all over, all at the same time. A feeling of security swept through him, the feeling he had around Sirius.
Try as he might, his eyes wouldn't stray from the veil that so recently took his godfather from him. He dumbly stared ahead as though fascinated. The veil seemed to suddenly become caught in a deadly storm as it flew and snapped in the invisible force that made it seem so liquid-like in the first place. Harry tried to move, to run, to scream for help that wasn't there, but he stood frozen, unsure what to do, his mouth gasping for air, a gaping hole. Harry fell to his knees, a feeling of cold death grasping at his very soul, as though trying desperately to tear it from his body.
Then, through the veil, something unexpected happened. The veil appeared to have thrown out the body of a man, a man Harry recognized. The body hit the cold floor with a thud. From the veil, the spirits behind seemed angry.some were actually screaming in pain as the corpse was regurgitated. Then the veil shuddered, and returned to its former state, moving in fair, almost graceful movements, the whispers restored to normal volume and form.
The body of Sirius Black, the escaped convict, wrongly accused by the wizarding world, shuddered and took in a quick breath. He still lay on the floor, shaking, releasing a moan from time to time. Eventually, he made a feeble attempt to stand, and failed. Harry tried to rush forward and help him, but his legs wouldn't move, they wouldn't allow it.
Harry finally tore his eyes away from Sirius. Looking in the corner of the dark room, deep in the shadows that were etched against the wall, Harry saw that someone else stood, someone also living in this dream. Harry knew she actually wasn't there. Otherwise, she certainly would've tried to help the gasping man on the floor. She? When did they become a she? And who is hiding back there? Harry thought vaguely.
Looking up, the girl in the shadows caught Harry's eyes. She couldn't have been much older than Harry, or couldn't be much taller than his friend Hermione. Her deep ocean-blue eyes gazed back at his own, as though appraising him. Her black hair that hung far past her shoulders was blacker than Harry's, and hid her perfectly in her shadowy domain, but her pale skin gave her away, shining with worry and concern, a warm look. At least she won't hurt Sirius. But Sirius is dead, isn't he? Harry thought. Just as soon as he thought those words, Sirius dared himself to speak.
"Harry?" Sirius' voice croaked in the dark chamber. Harry tried to shout back, but Sirius didn't seem to hear him. "I've got to help Harry."
Harry tried time and time again to call to Sirius, but only the girl seemed to hear him. She looked back and forth between the two with a sad look in her eyes, as deep as an ocean. She looked at Harry when he called for her to help. Her look simply said, "I can't, you can't. He has to get out of here on his own. I'm sorry."
Just as Harry's legs began to allow motion again, the scene began to dissolve. Harry called for Sirius, for the girl his own age whom seemed to dissolve with the chamber. As much as he tried, he couldn't get back to them, try as he might. Feeling utterly hopeless, he just gave up at all. He sank into the darkness once more, before waking up in his own bed on Privet Drive.
Harry immediately stood up and began pacing the room. His own thoughts were jumbled up into his own confused mind. He felt the comings of the worst headache in a century. He strode across his room and threw open the window, allowing the fresh air to calm him, while he wallowed in his own thoughts and feelings. Everything that had happened was impossible, but it felt so real, what kept it from being so?
He saw Sirius die. No, a voice in the back of his head jeered, You just saw him fall behind the veil because of a Stunner. He never REALLY died. His thoughts switched to the visitor. Who was that girl? Why was she in MY dream, I've never met her in my life!
Harry came to a conclusion. His godfather's death had traumatized him, and he was off his rocker. He laughed at the thought. After all, a dream hurts nothing, does it? Yes, it hurt Harry. It put hopes in him that his godfather was still alive.Harry felt the need to break down and cry.
Harry looked out his window; the sun was starting to rise. Today was his birthday, not like he cared anymore. A birthday at the Dursley home was a disappointment. After all, they didn't acknowledge it at all. A rapping at his door signaled his full attention to making breakfast for his abominable relatives, just like any other day.
"GET UP!" his Aunt Petunia squealed through the door. Harry could just picture her long, bony horse-face against his door, frustrated at his lack of consideration.
Harry trudged sleepily down the stairs after getting dressed. His huge cousin and uncle sat waiting for breakfast while his aunt fussed over his appearance, especially his frazzled hair. Harry took over making breakfast while the Dursleys waited impatiently. He had to admit to himself he was miserable, but for now it was his little secret.
The Dursleys didn't even seem to take to heart the threat from some 'experienced' wizards if Harry was mistreated. Mistreating him, in their opinions, would be to be kind. At breakfast, the family continued to talk to one another, completely ignoring Harry unless they needed something from him, not like he had much he'd care to give him.
As he listened to the monotonous babble of the family surrounding him, Harry began to intensely miss his friends, his school.but knew he'd still be unhappy there. A world without Sirius was wrong and inhumane. However, he did begin to miss the welcome feeling as he flopped down onto his four- poster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy, the welcome feeling as he ate meals in the Great Hall, and his two best friends Ron and Hermione.
As soon as breakfast was over, Harry headed back upstairs, expecting to sink only further into his bottomless pit. Instead, he found owls galore hooting in his room, perched on Hedwig's cage, collapsed on Harry's bed. There were the usual. Ron's owl Pig was there, an official looking owl, probably from Hogwarts, a rather ruffled looking Hermes, along with a few others. Hermes? Wasn't that Percy's owl?
Interest sprang up in Harry and he snatched at the letter Hermes carried. It was indeed from Percy Weasley, the third oldest son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. It read: Dear Harry, You wouldn't believe how sorry I am. I have no doubt in my mind that you heard, or read that letter I wrote to Ron. Truth be told, I loved my position too much, working directly for the Minister, which I now regret. I can only hope you accept my apology, but I doubt it. I was rude and cruelly obscene. I couldn't see through the mask that the Ministry and that Skeeter woman placed over you. Again you have my deepest regrets and sincerest apologies. Never again will I doubt your word, Percy Weasley
It sounded fair enough to Harry. After all, he and Percy didn't know each other very well, and the last time Percy saw Harry, it was probably while he was clutching Cedric Diggory's dead body and the Triwizard Cup. Memories flooded through Harry and dared to overtake him. Harry pushed it away and began to write a response.
Dear Percy, Apology accepted. While I couldn't believe at first that you wrote the letter, I can kind of understand where you stood, and where you information came from. Thanks for the confidence, Harry
He wasn't gifted with words, so that would have to suit Percy. As Hermes flew through the window, Harry went for the Hogwarts letter. Inside were the usual school list and letter, but with that came his O.W.L. results. Harry's hands shook as he opened the folded parchment. He was quite surprised to see his results.
Transfiguration- Outstanding
History of Magic- Poor
Potions- Outstanding
Charms- Outstanding
Divination- Dreadful
Astronomy- Poor
Defense Against the Dark Arts- Outstanding
Care of Magical Creatures- Exceeds Expectations
Herbology- Acceptable
Harry could hardly believe it, he'd done better than he could have expected of himself! For a brief moment, he felt as though he were on top of the world. Pig the owl brought him back to the present with a letter from Ron Weasley, one of Harry's best friends from Hogwarts.
Hiya Harry, I thought you could use a little bit of birthday cheer being around those Muggles and all. How've you been? I'm dreadful right now. My O.W.L. results weren't top-notch like my mum expected. Shame really, I don't care about that Dreadful in Potions. Hermione's ecstatic, but she's still Hermione."Only exceeds expectations?!?!?!" Well Harry, I've enclosed your present, hope to see you soon.
May the Muggles take dad's threat seriously, Ron
Harry grabbed the small parcel and opened it. Inside was a fair sized crystal on a chain. A note from Ron told him that the white smoke inside turned black where you're around someone untrustworthy, just like a sneakoscope, only without the annoying whistling. Harry moved on to Hermione's letter.
Dear Harry, I won't mention all I want to in this letter, I'd rather talk to you to your face. Ron probably forgot to mention it, but we're back in the same place for the summer. It's dreadful around here, I'm beginning to admit, Kreacher's an absolute pest. Did you get your O.W.L. results back? Ron and I both got ours yesterday.
I talked to Mrs. Weasley, she said this year we get to go back to Diagon Alley to get all of our things. It has been a while, hasn't it? I hope to see you soon, and I hope your relatives are being fair.
Love, Hermione
Well this cheered Harry up a bit. He hastily wrote responses and gave them his O.W.L. results. There was only one owl left, a ruffled looking barn owl trying desperately to look dignified, and failing. Tearing open the letter he wasn't surprised very much by who it was from.
Dear Harry, We'll come to pick you up tomorrow at noon. Be ready for us. Happy Birthday, Harry. -Remus Lupin
Harry ran down the stairs to inform the Dursleys. His uncle merely grunted in response. Back in his room, he looked around. He hadn't unpacked much, which he hastily shoved in his trunk. Tomorrow might be a better day.
A/N: Well, here is my first attempt at a fanfic. I would greatly appreciate if anyone made a review. This story takes place after the fifth book, so don't go any further unless you've managed to read through it yet. Also, I don't title the chapters, hope you don't mind. Please review.
-Anna Dearest
Sixth Year and a Lifetime of Worries
Chapter One
A feeling of peace settled over the small house on Privet Drive, engulfing its occupants with sleep. Petunia and Vernon Dursley settled in to bed, while their large son, Dudley Dursley, was already rattling the walls with his all too impressive snores. One, or perhaps two if you included the snowy owl Hedwig, remained awake in the dreary atmosphere that was normal for number 4 Privet Drive. The Dursleys' nephew sat awake.
Harry Potter, his nest of jet-black hair shooting out in all directions, tried to flatten the mess as he stared hopelessly out of the square window in his room. His fingers ran along the all too familiar scar on his forehead, his emerald green eyes puzzled. With a huge sigh, the scrawny fifteen, going on sixteen year old boy threw himself on his bed, not wanting to sleep, but knowing he would. The sinking feeling in his heart at the thought of dreaming tormented him, he'd see the same thing again, his godfather.
Since returning to his aunt and uncle's house for the summer, Sirius had been the only thing on his mind. Constant dreams of him still being alive and well gave Harry hope until he woke up traumatized at the thought of his loss, his hopes scattered like the broken glass of the mirror Sirius had given him, now at the bottom of his trunk, the top of his thoughts. Harry knew that he couldn't ignore his drooping eyes much longer, the dreams of his lost godfather were coming for him, and he had no defense against them whatsoever.
Just as Harry's eyes fell and all was blackness, he thought he saw a shadow out of the corner of his eyes. A mouse, a rat, maybe just some harmless bug? It didn't matter.He was too tired to care. Right before sleep claimed him completely, he entertained himself with the image of Aunt Petunia encountering a rodent in her perfect home, which wasn't home to Harry at all.
He was falling through blackness, if it weren't for the whirling feeling in his stomach, he'd believe himself to be completely stationary, just a body lying in the dark. A feeling of cold crept upon him as he made his landing, body flat against the floor, eyes closed, too scared to open them; there's no telling what he'd see. To one side of him he could hear whispering, voices all sounding as though trapped. Harry dared to open his eyes. He was in the same chamber...the chamber Sirius died in just weeks before. Harry tried to fight himself, tried to close his eyes again, to tear them from the veil, all to no avail. His eyes remained glued to the black veil, which fluttered as if it were part of a breeze sweeping through the chamber. The breeze caught Harry too, and he felt warm and cold all over, all at the same time. A feeling of security swept through him, the feeling he had around Sirius.
Try as he might, his eyes wouldn't stray from the veil that so recently took his godfather from him. He dumbly stared ahead as though fascinated. The veil seemed to suddenly become caught in a deadly storm as it flew and snapped in the invisible force that made it seem so liquid-like in the first place. Harry tried to move, to run, to scream for help that wasn't there, but he stood frozen, unsure what to do, his mouth gasping for air, a gaping hole. Harry fell to his knees, a feeling of cold death grasping at his very soul, as though trying desperately to tear it from his body.
Then, through the veil, something unexpected happened. The veil appeared to have thrown out the body of a man, a man Harry recognized. The body hit the cold floor with a thud. From the veil, the spirits behind seemed angry.some were actually screaming in pain as the corpse was regurgitated. Then the veil shuddered, and returned to its former state, moving in fair, almost graceful movements, the whispers restored to normal volume and form.
The body of Sirius Black, the escaped convict, wrongly accused by the wizarding world, shuddered and took in a quick breath. He still lay on the floor, shaking, releasing a moan from time to time. Eventually, he made a feeble attempt to stand, and failed. Harry tried to rush forward and help him, but his legs wouldn't move, they wouldn't allow it.
Harry finally tore his eyes away from Sirius. Looking in the corner of the dark room, deep in the shadows that were etched against the wall, Harry saw that someone else stood, someone also living in this dream. Harry knew she actually wasn't there. Otherwise, she certainly would've tried to help the gasping man on the floor. She? When did they become a she? And who is hiding back there? Harry thought vaguely.
Looking up, the girl in the shadows caught Harry's eyes. She couldn't have been much older than Harry, or couldn't be much taller than his friend Hermione. Her deep ocean-blue eyes gazed back at his own, as though appraising him. Her black hair that hung far past her shoulders was blacker than Harry's, and hid her perfectly in her shadowy domain, but her pale skin gave her away, shining with worry and concern, a warm look. At least she won't hurt Sirius. But Sirius is dead, isn't he? Harry thought. Just as soon as he thought those words, Sirius dared himself to speak.
"Harry?" Sirius' voice croaked in the dark chamber. Harry tried to shout back, but Sirius didn't seem to hear him. "I've got to help Harry."
Harry tried time and time again to call to Sirius, but only the girl seemed to hear him. She looked back and forth between the two with a sad look in her eyes, as deep as an ocean. She looked at Harry when he called for her to help. Her look simply said, "I can't, you can't. He has to get out of here on his own. I'm sorry."
Just as Harry's legs began to allow motion again, the scene began to dissolve. Harry called for Sirius, for the girl his own age whom seemed to dissolve with the chamber. As much as he tried, he couldn't get back to them, try as he might. Feeling utterly hopeless, he just gave up at all. He sank into the darkness once more, before waking up in his own bed on Privet Drive.
Harry immediately stood up and began pacing the room. His own thoughts were jumbled up into his own confused mind. He felt the comings of the worst headache in a century. He strode across his room and threw open the window, allowing the fresh air to calm him, while he wallowed in his own thoughts and feelings. Everything that had happened was impossible, but it felt so real, what kept it from being so?
He saw Sirius die. No, a voice in the back of his head jeered, You just saw him fall behind the veil because of a Stunner. He never REALLY died. His thoughts switched to the visitor. Who was that girl? Why was she in MY dream, I've never met her in my life!
Harry came to a conclusion. His godfather's death had traumatized him, and he was off his rocker. He laughed at the thought. After all, a dream hurts nothing, does it? Yes, it hurt Harry. It put hopes in him that his godfather was still alive.Harry felt the need to break down and cry.
Harry looked out his window; the sun was starting to rise. Today was his birthday, not like he cared anymore. A birthday at the Dursley home was a disappointment. After all, they didn't acknowledge it at all. A rapping at his door signaled his full attention to making breakfast for his abominable relatives, just like any other day.
"GET UP!" his Aunt Petunia squealed through the door. Harry could just picture her long, bony horse-face against his door, frustrated at his lack of consideration.
Harry trudged sleepily down the stairs after getting dressed. His huge cousin and uncle sat waiting for breakfast while his aunt fussed over his appearance, especially his frazzled hair. Harry took over making breakfast while the Dursleys waited impatiently. He had to admit to himself he was miserable, but for now it was his little secret.
The Dursleys didn't even seem to take to heart the threat from some 'experienced' wizards if Harry was mistreated. Mistreating him, in their opinions, would be to be kind. At breakfast, the family continued to talk to one another, completely ignoring Harry unless they needed something from him, not like he had much he'd care to give him.
As he listened to the monotonous babble of the family surrounding him, Harry began to intensely miss his friends, his school.but knew he'd still be unhappy there. A world without Sirius was wrong and inhumane. However, he did begin to miss the welcome feeling as he flopped down onto his four- poster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy, the welcome feeling as he ate meals in the Great Hall, and his two best friends Ron and Hermione.
As soon as breakfast was over, Harry headed back upstairs, expecting to sink only further into his bottomless pit. Instead, he found owls galore hooting in his room, perched on Hedwig's cage, collapsed on Harry's bed. There were the usual. Ron's owl Pig was there, an official looking owl, probably from Hogwarts, a rather ruffled looking Hermes, along with a few others. Hermes? Wasn't that Percy's owl?
Interest sprang up in Harry and he snatched at the letter Hermes carried. It was indeed from Percy Weasley, the third oldest son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. It read: Dear Harry, You wouldn't believe how sorry I am. I have no doubt in my mind that you heard, or read that letter I wrote to Ron. Truth be told, I loved my position too much, working directly for the Minister, which I now regret. I can only hope you accept my apology, but I doubt it. I was rude and cruelly obscene. I couldn't see through the mask that the Ministry and that Skeeter woman placed over you. Again you have my deepest regrets and sincerest apologies. Never again will I doubt your word, Percy Weasley
It sounded fair enough to Harry. After all, he and Percy didn't know each other very well, and the last time Percy saw Harry, it was probably while he was clutching Cedric Diggory's dead body and the Triwizard Cup. Memories flooded through Harry and dared to overtake him. Harry pushed it away and began to write a response.
Dear Percy, Apology accepted. While I couldn't believe at first that you wrote the letter, I can kind of understand where you stood, and where you information came from. Thanks for the confidence, Harry
He wasn't gifted with words, so that would have to suit Percy. As Hermes flew through the window, Harry went for the Hogwarts letter. Inside were the usual school list and letter, but with that came his O.W.L. results. Harry's hands shook as he opened the folded parchment. He was quite surprised to see his results.
Transfiguration- Outstanding
History of Magic- Poor
Potions- Outstanding
Charms- Outstanding
Divination- Dreadful
Astronomy- Poor
Defense Against the Dark Arts- Outstanding
Care of Magical Creatures- Exceeds Expectations
Herbology- Acceptable
Harry could hardly believe it, he'd done better than he could have expected of himself! For a brief moment, he felt as though he were on top of the world. Pig the owl brought him back to the present with a letter from Ron Weasley, one of Harry's best friends from Hogwarts.
Hiya Harry, I thought you could use a little bit of birthday cheer being around those Muggles and all. How've you been? I'm dreadful right now. My O.W.L. results weren't top-notch like my mum expected. Shame really, I don't care about that Dreadful in Potions. Hermione's ecstatic, but she's still Hermione."Only exceeds expectations?!?!?!" Well Harry, I've enclosed your present, hope to see you soon.
May the Muggles take dad's threat seriously, Ron
Harry grabbed the small parcel and opened it. Inside was a fair sized crystal on a chain. A note from Ron told him that the white smoke inside turned black where you're around someone untrustworthy, just like a sneakoscope, only without the annoying whistling. Harry moved on to Hermione's letter.
Dear Harry, I won't mention all I want to in this letter, I'd rather talk to you to your face. Ron probably forgot to mention it, but we're back in the same place for the summer. It's dreadful around here, I'm beginning to admit, Kreacher's an absolute pest. Did you get your O.W.L. results back? Ron and I both got ours yesterday.
I talked to Mrs. Weasley, she said this year we get to go back to Diagon Alley to get all of our things. It has been a while, hasn't it? I hope to see you soon, and I hope your relatives are being fair.
Love, Hermione
Well this cheered Harry up a bit. He hastily wrote responses and gave them his O.W.L. results. There was only one owl left, a ruffled looking barn owl trying desperately to look dignified, and failing. Tearing open the letter he wasn't surprised very much by who it was from.
Dear Harry, We'll come to pick you up tomorrow at noon. Be ready for us. Happy Birthday, Harry. -Remus Lupin
Harry ran down the stairs to inform the Dursleys. His uncle merely grunted in response. Back in his room, he looked around. He hadn't unpacked much, which he hastily shoved in his trunk. Tomorrow might be a better day.
