Burning in the cold
By Talons
Anything you might recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling and written without intent of making profit
Rating: PG13
Chapter 1
News and Reflections
"People continue to disappear mysteriously, and the police appear to be mystified..."
The sound of the television filled Number Four Privet Drive, making a young man; now sixteen, stir in his not so peaceful sleep.
"...the family appeared to have been watching television when murdered. But the mystery is that the family appears to be in perfect health, except for the fact that they were dead. Scientists are now trying to—"
"BOY!!" Shouted someone from the sitting room. "BOY!! COME HERE!!"
Groaning, the boy got up from his bed wondering what his uncle wanted to talk to him about.
"This," said Uncle Vernon pointing at the television, "was that what you meant last year?"
Harry took one look at the television, that now showed a man glassy eyed and a look of terror on his face. His hand still held a half full bottle of beer.
"Yes," said Harry emotionless, taking his eyes off the TV. "That is exactly what I meant."
Uncle Vernon went pale, and looked back at the TV, that now talked about houses catching fire and several deaths.
"A long time ago," he said slowly moving closer to Harry, who took a step backwards, "something like this happened. Several people were found dead and houses caught fire. But after a while it simply stopped being mentioned."
"That would be the ministry," said Harry emotionless, "they were probably trying to hide our world and Voldemort from yours."
He noticed how Uncle Vernon's face darkened at the mention of his world, but he didn't comment.
"Is my family safe from this... this... Voldy thingy?" Asked Uncle Vernon trying to mask the fear in his voice as he made the question.
Harry briefly imagined Voldemort's face if anyone ever called him 'Voldy thingy' in front of him, but shrugged it off.
"I am being watched out for and Dumbledore has put protection charms, so yes, you should be safe."
Uncle Vernon seemed like he wanted to say that he would rather be killed than be protected by those insane fools of his nephews world, but with one more look at the TV, he decided that it was better to be protected after all.
"That's all I wanted to know," said Uncle Vernon gruffly, "now leave my sight."
Harry nodded and sighed. So it had started. He knew it would, and that it was only a matter of time, but the impact it caused was still too great to take in, and to add it to all that had happened in the past year... it seemed to be a lot more depressing.
Harry, of course, had been forced to see some of the deaths from the worst point of view possible; their own murderer and tormentor, making him feel guilty, feeling as though it was he, Harry, who committed such terrors. But after the events of last year, Harry decided to take more seriously all that Snape had taught him, and was able of blocking out most of the visions.
When Voldemort's mind wasn't occupying his dreams, it was the surprise in Sirius's eyes as he fell through the veil in the ministry of magic. Harry still had trouble dealing with it; he had many times caught himself reaching for a quill and some parchment to write to him, to make sure he was fine, only to remember that he was gone forever.
Luna's words brought some comfort to him, but he still felt empty. He was still lost. After Sirius left and he learned of the prophecy, he felt like a stranger. He didn't know who he was anymore. He was destined to kill or be killed. How fair can that be? As terrible as Voldemort is, he simply can't imagine himself being the one to inflict the ultimate punishment, revenge, or whatever you might call it. He was only sixteen, for crying out loud! He shouldn't be worrying if he would ever live to finish school!
He never told Ron and Hermione what he discovered. In truth, he was ashamed to do it. He didn't want to admit his fears, simply because they wouldn't understand. How could they? They have never been front-to-front with Voldemort, how could they know what it was like? How could they know how it felt to be inside his mind, and slowly, very slowly, feel like you were being poisoned, loosing a bit of yourself everyday and wishing that it would simply end, and be ready to embrace death and float away?
He wouldn't tell them. Not yet, at least. It would be another well kept secret right next to the one about him nearly being sorted into Slytherin.
As Harry went up to his bedroom, he saw Dudley run back into his bedroom and shut the door. It had been that way all summer; while he accepted being in the same house as his cousin and the fact that at some point they would simply have to bump into each other and be in the same room, he had gained an annoying habit of covering himself with jackets, despite the infernal heat.
And sure enough, Dudley walked out wearing clothes that were not so uncommon in Alaska, and walked past his cousin, trying to keep a good enough distance between them.
"Boo," said Harry smirking.
"AHHH!" screamed Dudley running down the stairs and tripping on his feet once he reached the bottom.
Harry reflected how remarkable it was that he managed to run in that speed, despite his weight. He shrugged it off as another mystery of life, and went into his room to get changed.