Title: Revenge from the grave.
Author: Black blade
Chapter tile: Awakening.
Disclaimer: umm, looks up innocently, not mine.
Summary: Slash. One year has passed since the day Harry Potter was killed by Voldemort in a desperate effort to save Snape from certain death. Harry is back from the grave to finish the job he was born to do. Kill the murderer of his parents. Will he succeed or will he fall? For there's no coming back from the dead if he fails, again.
Beta: Websurfer. Thanks mate, any other mistakes found are purely mine.
Chapter 1 - Awakenings
Standing in front of a large black grave stone stood two lovers in mourning over their friend's grave. Hermione Granger with a silent tear sliding down her face stepped forward to place a bundle of white lilies onto the grave in front of the two. Ron Weasley, her boyfriend of a year, watched in sadness, his loss for his best friend still fresh in his mind.
"He should have been a hero," Ron whispered hoarsely. "He was born a hero and he died while saving another. He should have been a hero."
"He's a hero in the eyes of the ones that matter," Hermione added.
"He's a bloody idiot for what he did!" Ron exploded, turning burning eye on the grave in front of him. "You hear me, mate! You were a foolish idiot! Why did you put your life in front of his?"
Ron's last words trailed off with a soft sob, his energy and grief spent as he looked down at the unforgiving black stone.
"Shh, It's okay, Ron." Hermione said calmly warping her arms around her boyfriend. "He did what he thought was right."
"How could he have done it, Hermione?" Ron asked, softly. "He never liked the man and he gave his life to save him."
"I don't know, Ron." Said the girl who'd believed she'd known the answer to everything, but in this matter she was just as clueless as Ron.
"I miss him Hermione. Even though it's been a year I still miss him," Ron cried.
"Shh, I know," Hermione soothing whispered. "I miss him too."
The two friends stood there wrapped up around the other as they gazed down at the person that was missing from their trio. The grave gave them sadness but it also gave them hope. They would not stop fighting until the monster that had taken their friend's life was six feet under, preferably in ash and locked in a steel box. They would make sure Lord Voldemort could never rise again.
The two stood there for a few more minutes before saying their good-byes and hand in hand made their way out of the Godric's Hollow Cemetery.
A large crow watched them leave with beady black eyes. Most people wouldn't have even given the black bird a second glance. To see a crow wasn't an uncommon sight, but this crow was different from it's many other brethren. He was a keeper of a soul, a soul that couldn't rest. He could feel the person's soul struggling to be released and death had decided to grant this little one's wish.
With a cry the crow lifted up into the air and landed on the black stone of the grave of the restless soul. The crow tilted his head to look at the upside down name. 'Harry James Potter' was carved deep into the stone, a slight film of dust and dirt clung to the groves; which was expected.
The crow waited for the sun to set, the day of the dead didn't begin until the sun passed over the horizon. The dead couldn't release their charges until the day had fled and the darkness had set in, and for what the crow was going to do next he needed all the help he could get.
The sun slowly lowered in the sky casting the sky into burning oranges, blazing pinks and gold. The crow could already feel the dead around him. The night of Halloween was stirring.
The crow cried loudly as the last of the rays of sun disappeared and the darkness settled in. The time had come, he felt it in his bones, as the body beneath his talons stirred after a year of rest. The soul slammed into the chest of the boy and the crow could hear the thud of the boy's first heart beat.
One year after the death of Harry James Potter the soil began to shift, as if something was pushing up from below the surface. Silence overcame the graveyard even the crow was quiet.
Thump, thump, thump, THUMP, THUMP!
The crow flapped his wings as the sound grew louder like a drum beating in time with a newly awakened heartbeat. The ground moved again pushing up against the six feet of dirt above the casket. Above the beating of the drum the ground could be hear groaning under the stain of the thing underneath it. Slowly a crack began to be seen which grew larger by the minute.
Suddenly a human hand broken through the soil, its fingers twisted into a claw, the crow called out to its owner in almost like a greeting. The hand soon became an arm as more of the body appeared. The hand pulled at the grass and dirt trying to dig itself out. A dirt incrusted form of a seventeen year old boy appeared above the ground, gasping in pain. The boy scrambled free of his dirt prison his lungs burning as it took in air it had been denied for a year.
He rolled onto his side coughing up soil onto the upturned earth. Tears making tracks down the pale boy's face from his watering bright green eyes. The crow fluttered his wings, making the boy look up at the tombstone the crow rested on. The moon high in the night sky shone down on the boy and the crow. It was then that the black haired youth noticed what was written on the stone in front of him.
Harry James Potter
Born: 31st of July, 1980.
Died: 31st of October, 1996
Beloved friend and hero,
We will miss you for all time.
The boy, once known as Harry Potter, lifted pain filled green eyes to the large black bird that rested on his tombstone. The bird crowed, a long sorrowful note that filled the night air. Making Harry moan and glare at his damn saviour as he tried to remember what happened. His memory was like sand easily seen but unable to hold onto. On impulse he reached out a hand to the stone as his finger tips scraped the surface of the grave images surfaced in his confused mind.
"We gather here today to mourn the passing of a boy that was taken too early in his life..." A voice rang over the rows of mourners.
In front of the podium sat Hermione Granger crying into the shoulder of her boyfriend Ronald Weasley, to the left of Ron sat a group of red heads. The mother of the group, Molly Weasley, grasped the shoulder of her husband in two hands as she sobbed into his shirt. Harry had been like a son to her and the pain was equal to the loss of one of her own. To the other side of Hermione was seated a silent Remus Lupin tears sliding down his face as he watched the last remaining marauder, even though he was a son of a marauder, pass from this world. To his side sat Severus Snape, still sporting a sling and bruises, the man's black eyes giving away nothing he felt inside, but it was easy to tell the man was in pain mentally. Behind that row sat Harry's teachers and surprising enough Dudley Dursley.
As the casket was slowly lowered into the ground Harry's friends, adopted family and teachers, standing in front of their chairs, watched as the remains of their friend, student or son settle into his last resting place. No reporter or masses of Harry Potter fans were present, only the ones who had known him, just as he would have wanted.
The casket finally came to a rest in the ground with a soft thunk, those gathered stood and formed a line to say their final good byes to the dearly departed Harry Potter.
When Hermione reached the grave she kissed her fingers and placed them on top of the black marble tombstone.
"You will be missed Harry," the girl whispered.
She bent down and grasped a fist full of dirt, she held her hand over the grave and let the dirt fall through her fingers and onto the coffin, like those before her had. She looked once more at the tombstone before turning and sobbing into the shirt of her waiting boyfriend who silently lead her away.
Severus Snape came to stand at the edge of the grave next. He looked down into the hole, his black eyes, for the first time, shinning in sadness. He stood there for a minute more before with a practiced move spun on his heels and stalked off, heading towards the gravesite's grates, without looking back.
Harry shook the images away, pulling himself to his feet. The crow left its post, landing on Harry's shoulder. He lifted one hand to stroke the bird's feathers his face breaking into a half smile, which looked eerie on the pale boy's face. He closed his eyes for a minute feeling the blood pumping through his veins and the strength in his muscles.
He opened his eyes the smile deepening as he turned in one movement, striding away from his grave without a backwards glance. A slight rain started to fall around him washing the dirt away from the once dead boy. He passed the gate, which swung closed behind him with a bang. He had a lot to do and as they say, 'Revenge is a dish best severed cold.'