Set summer after 5th year
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July 1st
Harry lay on the sheet-less bed, nearly unconscious and naked. He knew he was lying on a mattress saturated with his own blood and pus from whip wounds, and that huge gashes and lacerations laced his entire body.
A desk with a snowy owl laid on top of a ratty old desk with millions of letters on it, many signed Ron, Hermione, or Ginny. The snowy owl's head looked bent at an odd angle, and her head appeared snapped. Several newspapers also lay on the desk, bearing the same brutal headline.
You-Know-Who Back! Magical Community Urged to Take Protection.
He paid these no heed, except for the letters, and the friends they were from. Why had they not come to rescue their friend from the abuse of the Dursleys? He laid, nearly dying on a blood-soaked bed, and nobody was any the wiser. They said they'd come if he didn't send the letters, and it had been over a week and a half now since his Uncle had abused him and left him for dead in this tattered room. He was surprised he was even still alive, because he felt as he'd die any moment from hunger or exhaustion. Or a combination of the two.
His weak occlumency shields had been broken by the torture and his scar was burning almost all the time. He was constantly floating in between Voldemort's mind, the present, and his own unconsciousness, so he didn't fit in thoughts much. He never even got a chance to sleep.
Stowed beneath a loose floorboard were four items of great importance to Harry. The first, a magical wand of holly and phoenix feather, was below an invisibility cloak, rendering it unseen. On top of that was a map called The Marauders Map, which showed a magical rendering of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and showed the people inside. Crushing all of these items was a photo album, containing the only photos of his parents he knew of.
His trunk and all of his other worldly possessions, excepting the recent items scattered across his desk, had been incinerated in a fire.
Harry Potter was in a bad way, close to broken in mind, spirit, as well as body. He highly suspected he was upon the end and Voldemort would oppress everyone. The ironic thing was, he died at the hands of a Muggle, whom Voldemort despised. What if He offered the Dursleys magic, in return for killing him, both of which he perceived to be great, and then they refused? That would be a funny sight.
His eyes fell on a feather from Hedwig lying not two feet away on the bed. He, at that moment also remembered that for some odd reason, there was notebook paper in the desk drawer four feet away from him. If he could just grab them, he could write his will, as he was certain he was going to die that night.
Harry tried to move his arm and received no results. He tried again and saw his finger twitch. He pushed, hard, and his hand crawled toward the feather lying on the bed, coming to rest on it. He then looked at the drawer, exhaustion gnawing away at him from grabbing the feather. He knew his magic was somewhat rested, trying to heal himself but not actively being called to use since the end of school. If only he had a wand!
But, he knew Hedwig…Hedwig was a familiar and so had some magical properties, though not much. Maybe he could use her feather to summon the paper.
"Accio paper," Harry just barely managed to rasp out, having not talked in the past four days.
"Accio paper," he tried again, a bit louder and waving the feather. Surprisingly, the desk drawer gave a little jump.
"Accio paper! Accio paper! Accio paper!" Harry whispered, beginning to get desperate as he felt his energy waning.
The drawer jumped once, twice more and the paper zoomed into his lap.
He dipped his feather quill into one of the many puddles of blood surrounding him and began writing his will.
I, Harry James Potter, of sound mind but deteriorating body, write my last will and testament....
Harry completed the will, and having completely exhausted himself, faded away into the welcome darkness creeping over his senses; just as he felt his mind and body slip beyond the edge.
His last thoughts were that of an insane and deeply broken man.
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1 week before
Ron sat in his bedroom agitatedly, after an argument with his parents. He kept telling them that Harry hadn't answered any of his letters but they, and Remus too, insisted nothing probably was up.
They took that chance once! Look at second year, barred in his bedroom with a cage over the window. And maybe the threats from the order pushed them over the limit and had done something worse to Harry. The rational part of his mind told him he was probably just sad over Sirius's death and was really depressed.
Who wasn't depressed over Sirius's death? Despite Ron's original insistence he was evil in the shrieking shack, he had liked the fun, personable man a lot. He was really exceptionally sad about it, and for that matter did not blame Harry in any way, no matter what he in question said.
But that was another reason Harry needed visiting. Just because he had to go back there every year didn't mean he needed to be alone! He should have his friends, especially when the foremost parental figure his life had ever known just died.
'That's it', Ron thought. 'We're flooing to Diagon Alley and with Hermione's help we're going to catch a tax-ee or whatever she called them and we are going to visit Harry.'
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Ron got a letter from Hermione that night after writing to her about his situation early in the morning.
Dear Ron,
I think that's a great idea! You know how the order can be and I think that was actually a pretty good plan. Since Harry's address is Number 4, Little Whinging, Surrey, we know where to go. I've already looked it up from Diagon Alley on the enclosed map so we know where to go. I'd better Floo over beforehand and make sure you look like a Muggle, though. What time do you think that your parents are going to be out of the house and your older brothers? My parents trust me so as long as I have my cell phone for the summer, they don't mind. Harry does need us, I'm afraid of what he'll do, because of what he's aptly labeled his 'hero complex.'
Love,
-Hermione
Ron was ecstatic she accepted the rule-breaking so quickly, but they both agreed, and he knew there was to be a massive meeting after a huge Death Eater meeting later in the week (on Friday, it was Monday) so they'd go then. Hermione said she'd write the letter to Harry warning him of their visit.
Ron, and Hermione, couldn't wait for Friday.
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Thursday evening, Ron was rereading the letter for the umpteenth time as Ginny came bursting into the room in a towering temper. Her and mom have been fighting, Ron thought. But he never got to finish that thought, as both the letters were taken from his hand and read. Ginny had an invasive streak when she didn't know much, which was obviously what the fight was about. The order, scowled Ron in his mind. They had the right thing in mind, and knew how to do it, except for Harry.
"They just won't let us see Harry! I don't know what..." Ginny had started yelling, but she was into the letters.
Ron had tried to feebly grab the letters back, but he didn't really mind her coming too much, she was a friend of Harry's, and they had a good plan.
"I'm coming," she declared, and walked out of the room purposefully.
She strode back in just as purposefully, demanding, "What, no contest? No, 'you're too young, Ginerva?'"
"You're 15, who'm I to stop you? And it's not like this is dangerous." They had agreed a day or two ago sending through letters was a bit unguarded and ridiculous of them, but there was nothing they could do. They'd just try to be more vigilant next time.
"Oh, all right. What time?" she asked.
"As soon as they leave for the meeting, it's at Hogwarts," Ron said.
And the meeting couldn't come fast enough.
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Thanks to Blackened-Downpur for beta-ing. How could I ever have forgotten to credit her? :)
Short chapter, I'm Sorry.