Old decrepit gravestones thrusting out of the earth, the cackle of laughter always send cold spiders crawling all over my back in fear. Wide innocent eyes staring as a small hunched figure approached. A green beam wraps comfortably around his body slowly lowering him down the ground, wide eyes staring up at the stars unblinking. Liquid falling down onto him as I hover over him.
Others trying to pull me away from him, but I could not leave him, I had promised to bring his body back to his family. I saw his dad approach, but even with him, there I just could not let go. It was almost as if I let go then he could not come back, that I could not save him. I was supposed to be the hero the savior, how could I be that if I cannot even save a classmate.
Suddenly I was in a very familiar room; it was an unused amphitheatre with stone benches leading down to a dais in the middle of the room. A giant archway stood prominently in the middle of the dais. Somehow, it felt important to me as if it was calling to me. I remember the feeling of the voices calling me through the veil. I got the feeling that if I were to walk through it I would get all my answers, my life would have meaning again.
Suddenly more people appeared, some I was familiar with, Luna with here dreamlike smile, Ron with his fiery disposition, Hermione looking calm and controlled as always and Neville stoic and wary.
Other arrived covered in black robes and white masks we danced colors shooting out of our wands. Tommy Boy was here somewhere but right now, I was looking to the back as if waiting for someone.
More people arrived, familiar faces that made me smile, there was Sirius and Remus, the only family members I had left. Sure, I was made an honorary Weasley but they just could not compare to the feelings I had for the remaining marauders.
They were my only connection to my parents, the only ones who had been there before my first Halloween, the only ones who had fond memories of my parents. There always were Snape's memories, but his memories were of torment of humiliation.
The battle turned in our favor with the Order's arrival, I smiled at that, here we were four fifth year and one fourth year holding off adult wizards who used dark magic and none of us had died. Sure there were some injuries but that did not matter the order was here to help us, to heal us, to rescue us.
Sirius and I dueled with Malfoy, the arch looming over us. I smiled when Sirius called me James. Happiness weld up inside me spreading throughout my body with new energy, I wasn't the boy Harry who should stay out of the way and let the adults deal with dangerous situations, I was the adult, at least to Sirius, and that was all that mattered to me.
I was so lost up in the euphoria that I almost missed Bellatrix Black shoot a red spell at Sirius. The spell hit him in the chest and he stumbled back into the arch. The same arch that continued to call for me, wanting me to enter.
I wanted to go with Sirius he needed me and I needed him. However, Remus was holding on to me dragging me back. How could I tell him that Sirius needed me, that I needed Sirius? I grounded Sirius, and he ungrounded me, he made me forget the world around me and made me enjoy myself.
I could not overcome the werewolf's strength and so I gave up and became limp in his arms crying. Anger built up in me, first it was directed at Remus for holding me back, and then I realized that he was not to blame. He did not understand my feelings for Sirius or why I felt I had to go to through the veil, he was only doing what he felt was right.
The anger turned to Bellatrix; she after all was responsible for more pain and suffering then any other Death Eater. She was the insane one, the one who made the Longbottoms suffer a fate worse than death, where their brains were mush, where they could not recognize their own son. She was the one who had sent Sirius through the arch. She was the tormentor the one who looked down on me.
Sensing Remus' arms lax, I took this as my chance to make her pay for all that she had done. I ran after her anger seething through my veins. A small part of my mind was relishing the fact that I was going to be her judge, jury and executioner. She deserved not Azkaban, no she deserved far worse. There she could just return to her master's side and continue to destroy innocent people, but dead she would not harm anyone. I was not turning evil I was killing to preserve lives.
I could not killer her right away, no, she did not deserve that, that would be too nice a fate for her. No, she was going to die slowly, to beg for mercy, which I would look her in her eyes, smile and say never. Watching as her eyes widened with fear as I killed her.
I put her under the cruciatus curse, watching as she smiled as if she was enjoying this, smiling devilishly up at me. Redness burned behind my eyes at her lack of suffering, before I could go much further Tommy Boy came to her rescue and with a final smirk, she left.
I remember him dueling Dumbeldore with lack of interest, my mind focused solely on where I had tortured Bellatrix, wanting to do more to her, wanting to finish her. Then I felt Tommy Boy's presence in my mind and myself being pushed back to the background allowing him to take control.
Suddenly my eyes opened, which I quickly shut. The light was searing my retina, the Oriel window was allowing too much light in this morning. Oh how I wanted to just close them again and hope that I had no dreams, but I had to work. Most people my age, like Ron, could sleep in whenever they want had parents that smiled at them, that comforted them when they suffered.
Me, I was a servant, the house caretaker; though unlike other servants I was not paid and I got barely any food. It wasn't that I was mistreated, no, Uncle Vernon never mistreated me, sure he beat me till I was speckled in blue and black, sure he cut me open with a belt so that I bled, but he never abused me. He was always proud of the fact that they were a normal household.
I thought that this was normal that his treatment was usual for any household, that every child was treated this way. This was why I never told anybody, because my friends probably went through the same treatment. I watched as the rays moved down the walls exposing across the room from my bed my Gryffindor pennant, and picture of Hedwig I had drawn last year during the summer when I was bored.
Hedwig she was my first friend and always remained loyal even to the end. She had starved to death a few weeks into the break. I had run out of owl treats and Vernon had superglue the window shut so I could not let her out to eat. She was now the last in a long list of casualties of people who were close to me. Her death and Sirius' were the hardest to bear.
Vernon refused to let me bury her in the garden probably afraid that her dead body would taint the garden. So I keep her body in one of Dudley's old trainer boxes.
The sun next hit the wardrobe with the busted door from Dobby trying to throw himself against it when I had thrown him in it, in second year. I watched as the beams sparkle on the bedroom doorknob that used to have many locks, but had been removed after several business guests had commented on why they had a door that needed so many locks and a cat flap.
Nobody ever pays attention to the simple things anymore, like the sun rising and how it lights up a room in the morning, they expect the sun to be there every morning, just as they expect me to save the world from Tommy Boy. They do not see me as a person just look at Snape he views me as my father and nobody else. Even after seeing my memories of my house elf life, he still treats me no different.
Even Ron never saw me as just Harry. No to him, I was the Boy-Who-Lived, a rich little boy who got everything he wanted. Even after he figured out what my home life was, his jealousy always rose when I ended up doing things that he had wanted to do but couldn't, especially when it involved money. Just like in my fourth year when he was jealous over me becoming a champion in the Triwizard Tournament.
Sure, since the beginning of fifth year, his loyalty has not wavered, but that does not mean that it would never waver again. Hermione on the other hand was harder to figure out, she did not start out as my friend, but she eventually became my friend, which shows that she waited until she knew me before she befriended me.
The other people at school I did not know if they see me, or if they just see me as a figurehead. One thing was sure after my experience at the Department of Mysteries I was defiantly not ready to defeat Tommy Boy. Sure, I could hold my ground against the Death Eaters for a little while, but I would not be able to go offensive and push them back without the help of the Order.
Before long, I heard the daily call to act as house elf. Oh, if only Snape could see me now, cooking food for my aunt and uncle, then he could stop his insults about what a happy and perfect life I had where I was treated like royalty. I played the role of house elf not because I wanted to, or enjoyed it, but because I was made to, by them.
Now that I thought about it, why did I continue it? I was old enough to not be scared by my uncle anymore. Sure, that would probably lead to more bruises and cuts, but at least I would be free for my final hours of my life.
I turned my attention back to the fried eggs bacon and sausage I was cooking. Finally it was done after serving it to them I was given my breakfast and because I hadn't messed it up I was "treated" to more than leftovers as my aunt pointed to four buttermilk scones and some clotted cream and jam.
After I had eaten my given meal, my uncle pulled me aside and berated me about waking him up last night. Though I had no idea that I had woke him up at all, but I felt that it would be pointless to tell him. To placate him I apologized profusely, though in the end it made little difference.
"Now listen here boy this has gone on long enough you have to stop waking me up. Last night will be the last time you do that" he glared at me.
"Vernon you need to hurry up before the M25 and the M42 become crowded" Petunia encouragingly said.
"One moment Petunia" Vernon lovingly responded.
"Now boy remember that just because I'm gone doesn't mean that you're free to do whatever you please, no, I'm going to make you work. I have talked with Petunia and we have figured out a schedule for you to follow while I am gone. Since I am in a rush Petunia will hand it to you."
I nodded my head not daring to speak. Oh how I wish I could stand up for myself, but it was just so much easier to just give in and let others control your life.
"Oh before I forget, I know how you can't use it, but whatever you did to Dudley last year and got away with no punishment, you obviously have no laws in your freak world, and if I find Dudley in a similar situation I will punish you myself. I have never punished you before because I am a family man and I place my family first and I will never sink myself low enough to abuse a child but if you do this I will have no choice." I could see the mad glint in his eyes daring me to do it just so that he could punish me.
I nodded not wanting to take that bait, and my uncle, to my great relief, walked away. This was the best birthday present my uncle had ever given me, an entire day plus a weekend without him. I hoped nothing bad happened so that this would happen more often, but highly unlikely because the fates enjoyed torturing me.
My parents had died before I could get to know them, or even remember them. So that I was left here half starved, beaten and a slave to my own relatives. Finally, I go the chance to escape from their house several months out of the year only to arrive and find out that I was a big celebrity.
At school, I had everything one in my position would want, friends', food a comfortable bed. Yet it was nothing more then a method of torture because I would still have to return every summer to the hell house I came from. The contrast between the two it caused me to have mood swings, not that my school year was great fun either.
In my third year I discovered that I had a godfather whom I did not know I had one until third year because he was locked up for a crime he never committed. Then after two years of barely getting to see him, he was killed because I, the supposed savior, fell for Voldemort's trap.
The biggest reason why the fates enjoyed torturing me was that every year ended with a confrontation with at least a member of Tommy Boy's forces. Every year except third year I actually had to face Tommy Boy.
Talk about twisted sense of humor, yeah let us stick an eleven-year-old boy against an adult wizard who calls himself the Dark Lord and who has killed many aurors whose job it is to hunt down dark wizards, and let us see who wins.
After my uncle left, I was quickly accosted by my aunt who handed me a slip of paper which was filled with chores and shooed away to do them threatening lack of food if one of them was not done.
After a wonderful day of weeding the garden and sweeping the house which took all morning and I was forced to work through lunch and up to tea where I had to serve to my Aunt Camomile, Honey & Vanilla tea with scones raspberry jam and clotted cream before being sent back to work.
Soon I was forced into making dinner and because I had managed to get them all done, I was given some of the pork roast I had spent all that time cooking. This apparently had surprised my aunt, who had thought that I would not get them all done probably so that my uncle would have an excuse to lay into me.
That night I lay their quietly staring at the opposite wall thinking about all that had happened. I had just awoken from a similar dream as last night, where I was reliving all the painful memories I had from both fourth and fifth year. Especially the last moments of my godfather before he passed through the veil, that one was always painful to see repeated.
I would always get a sick feeling at my close encounter with the dark side. How I had relished making Belatrix pay for all she had done. All I knew was that Sirius was gone and that he would never come back.
Remus had told me that he was dead; telling me that there was no way to change that. He also told me that it was the gateway between the realm of the living and the dead, but a part of me told myself that it was wrong or at least partly wrong and that my godfather was not dead
I could not figure out if it was just because I wished that my godfather were alive, or if it was true. If the veil was truly a gateway to the land of the dead then what was it doing in the Ministry in the first place and why was it in a room all to itself if?
Why was it not it locked up or encased in a spell so that it would be secure? Maybe they thought that it was locked up enough and that nobody would be able to reach it, it being in the Department for Mysteries and in the deepest parts too, but then maybe they could not move it or cast anything over it.
That made me wonder exactly how they had know that it was the barrier to the land of the dead and how did they know that there is a land of the dead if nobody has ever comes back? It seemed as if it was all a cover story as if the truth was just hiding down there waiting for someone to enter it.
Either it was called that because they did not know what it was but that nobody had returned or it was called that to keep people away from it since everybody was afraid of death.
As for the ability to hear sounds coming out of the portal and the ability to see Thestrals maybe seeing death was only a side effect, maybe the main effect was not known and that people just assumed
It would not be the first time that they assumed or had any form of prejudice; their treatment of other species is a testament to this fact. Wizards assume that they are the greatest species and that others look up at them, as the statue in the ministry demonstrates, yet many of the species are quite human such as vampires and werewolves who are human most of the time.
Sure, there are werewolves like Fenrir, but then there are also werewolves such as Remus, sort of like Voldemort to Dumbledore, put it to society to cast people into good and bad, right and wrong, based purely on appearance. You look less presentable or ordinary, then you are outcast or wrong and need to be corrected, or if you cannot, you are disgraced.
How was I suppose to defeat Tommy Boy if I was a prisoner during my summer residence, not allowed to use magic and only learning how to cook, maybe I was suppose to cook Voldemort a nice meal that would give him a heart attack.
I scoffed at that image and the report in the paper. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named died this morning after eating eggs and sausage served by the famous Harry Potter, The Boy Who Cooks." If only I could get into Diagon Alley without alerting anyone, then I remembered my cloak, I would leave tomorrow night. I turned off the bedside lamp and closed my eyes hoping that tonight I would sleep peacefully.
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