Title: Out of the Darkness

Rating: K+

Pairing: (more than major pairing)

Challenge: (no challenge)

Disclaimer: Concepts belong to J. K. Rowling and her trademarks. This was created for entertainment and not for profit.

Author's Note: I started this story a long time ago, and it went though about seven drafts for the first chapter. Anyways, this story will be the continuation of 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince' where it will answer all those things that will be answered in the real seventh book. So I have planned it all out, and hopefully it will be finished!

Summary: As Harry grows, he slowly learns the hard way to things and he has to let things go, because what happens can't be taken back. Harry learns the way to happiness, and to making his life wholesome. Soon Harry opens his eyes to little problems and figuring that it's not only himself and to grow up. Oooh, burn!

Read the Terms on my homepage, please!


Out of the Darkness by alittleselfish

Spinner's End

A young boy of age was sleeping on quilted covers in his small, yet not quite cramped, room in number four Privet Drive. The skinny, black-haired boy was snoring with an unhealthy kind of look, like he had been moving in cramped places. The boy brutally let out a snore and turned, being only asleep for a couple of minutes, since he was searching far under his bed for his missing quills to write a letter to a school-girl he knew, named Hermione Granger.

Dreams were being placed in Harry, the certain dark-haired, and bedded boy's mind. It was very like a nightmare, but, yet, it didn't seem too scary. It was all making Harry feel excited wondering what was going to happen in the blackness that was surrounding him.

For a few seconds Harry seemed to be twisting around in the blackness and felt pressure around his figure. All of a sudden he appeared near a river with overgrown banks. A large chimney, attached to an unused mill came into sight. Seconds later, a loud pop, and a hooded figure substantiatednear the river, and when Harry's body moved forward, the hooded figure yelled, "Wait!"

A fox nearby that was sneaking almost flat in the undergrowth in its hiding place and a flash of green light came from the hooded figure behind him. The fox fell back to the round, dead. Harry turned to see the light.

The hooded figure turned over the animal with their toe. "Just a fox," said the woman's voice under the hood, "I thought perhaps an Auror—Cissy, wait!"

It was obvious the woman was talking to Harry who was scrambling up the bank.

"Cissy—Narcissa—listen to me—"

The woman grabbed Harry, but Harry seized his arm away.

"Go back, Bella!"

"You must listen to me!" said the woman's voice.

"I've listened already. I've made my decision. Leave me alone!"

Harry made it up to the top of the bank, where there were lines of worn-out railings separating the river from a narrow, cobbled street. The woman, Bella, followed Harry and standing side-by-side they looked across the road where they saw rows and rows of beat-up brick houses where darkness made the windows look blind and dull.

"He lives here?" asked Bella, contempt. "Here? In this Muggle dunghill? We must be the first of our kind to ever set foot—"

But Harry was not listening and went through a rather large gap in the railings and hurried across the dirtied road.

"Cissy, wait!"

Harry raced through an indistinguishable street where some streetlamps were broken. Harry felt Bella's hand grab his arm and wrenched him around so he faced her.

"Cissy, you must not do this, you can't trust him—"

"The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn't he?" Harry snapped.

"The Dark Lord is . . . I believe . . . mistaken," Bella gulping, looking around with gleamed eyes under her dark hood. "In any case, we were told not to speak of the plan to anyone. This is a betrayal of the Dark Lord's—"

"Let go, Bella!" Harry said excursively and grabbed a wand underneath his cloak holding it at the woman's face forcefully in the darkness. Bella solely laughed that echoed into Harry's ears.

"Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn't—"

"There is nothing I wouldn't do anymore!" Harry said with hysteria in his voice, and waved his wand down, much like a knife, and Bella immediately let go of Harry's arm as like her hand had just had been burned.

"Narcissa!"

Harry brisk up a street named Spinner's End. Almost suddenly a thick fog filled around him and not a thing could be seen. The voices could be heard but could not be able to be understood. The fog stayed for quite some time and Harry felt like if he knew what they were talking about, but still it was like skinny words were appearing in his head but he couldn't make them out.

More minutes went by. Suddenly like it had came the fog began to disappear. A grayish sitting room with wall-covered books came into sight and since, for some reason, his pale hands were clasped with a man with a shallow-looking skin, a hooked nose, and greasy black hair, which was distinguish as Severus Snape.

Bella was standing above them, looking down at their hands.

There was silence and Harry turned his head towards Bella, with her magnolia wand pointed upon Snape's and his clasped hands. She watched with her eyes wide.

"I will," said Snape.

Harry saw Bella's appalled face glowed red a blaze of a tongue of flame, which fling from the wand twisting around Harry's pale hand and Snape's shallow one. It constrained itself thickly around their clasped hands, like a rope, and like a fiery snake.

Upon Harry's covers his eyes snapped open reveling shocked eyes and he fell on the floor on his side in the process of getting up. Harry gasped as he stared at the ceiling, wondering if the dream was even real and put a hand to his temple.

There was no real meaning to it, Harry concluded quickly. The dream didn't even have anything to do with him killing Dumbledore did it?

Harry lifted himself from the cold floor and walked to the window and put his forehead against the cold glass. His heart pumped slowly, and his head thinking in a cloudy delay. Trying to think some more, Harry remembered that the Narcissa, in the dream, must be Malfoy's mother.

Malfoy was a boy Harry's age that had killed Dumbledore more than a month ago. That bastard! Harry thought, but he tried to think more about the dream.

What did it mean? Harry oppressing his mind, it didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. Harry slid down the cold window until he sat on the floor and leaned his the back of his head against the wall. His scar wasn't hurting but that was the last of his problems. He felt hatred for Malfoy and having to be stuck in such an evil and cruel world.

Sighing and leaning his head further back until he had a clear view of the ceiling, he thought of something he had never thought of since five years ago, in his second year, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when he believed he didn't have any friends because they didn't owl him any letters, but later found out a house-elf, named Dobby had taken them.

He remembered before that how he thought about how the sorting hat suggested he should be in the Slytherin House where it would help him to greatness. It was all a lie. It had to be a lie.

Please review! It helps the heart!