Hey guys
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!
Hey guys! This is my first long fic and I want some constructive criticism on it! I also need a beta!!
This story is set with Half-blood Prince having never happened. Voldemort has been quiet since the break in at the ministry in Harry's fifth year. Harry's sixth year was quiet, for a change. He is now in his seventh year.
Dominant
Chapter 1 - Chill
It was eleven forty-five at night on the thirtieth of July.
The hazy moon shone over the diminutive estate of Little Whinging. The light that poured over the static houses reflected off the shimmering windows and onto the other side of the road.
Those who stood guard attentively in the shadows felt a bitter cold chill sweep through the air. The sudden low temperature was undeniably out of place on that humid summer night.
A hefty man with a patch over one of his eyes quickly stiffened and the long staff that he was holding transformed into a wand faster than you could bat an eyelid.
The man had felt this coldness before. He knew all too well what this sign meant. Dementors.
Although something didn't feel quite right. There was something unusually about this particular icy feeling. But luckily after ten minutes or so nothing seemed to have appeared.
That, however, did not calm down the old, disfigured wizard.
"Don't worry about it Mad-eye." Reassured the delicate voice of a purple haired young woman who had appeared beside him.
"Nothing's gonna happen, not while we are here!" Whispered Tonks.
"This whole operation has gone too quietly" Moody replied suspiciously, his eye spinning wildly in its socket.
"Since when does 'nothing' happen around young Harry, Tonks?" He whispered back with a slight frown.
"Ha! I say never to look a gift horse in the mouth" she giggled, placing her hand over her mouth so she wouldn't draw attention to herself.
"We have no evidence to say that anything is going to happen tonight, So just relax, Moody!"
"Ugh, I suppose you're right" he sighed as he pulled his coat tight around him and sat down on a small green electricity box.
"I must be getting paranoid in my old age!" He chuckled softly.
"Moody, trust me, you've always been paranoid!" Smirked the young metamorphmagus.
"And who the hell wouldn't be during these dark times" she said a slight frown replacing her usual beaming smile.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A few uneventful minutes later, in the smallest bedroom of number four Privet Drive something unusual was occurring. The small dark haired boy, who until that moment had slept peacefully, was awoken harshly at the stroke of midnight.
He blinked his emerald eyes open wide as he began to gasp for breath. His chest rose up and down rapidly as tried to force air back into his straining lungs.
He couldn't understand what was happening to him. Was he dying? He wasn't having a nightmare? He wasn't even dreaming!
All of a sudden as the next minute flicked passed on the small digital clock in the corner, A sharp stab of pure agony wrenched through the centre of the young Wizard's back causing him to arch painfully off his rickety bed.
Then almost immediately, his skin started to burn like hot needles covering his flesh.
The boy clutched wildly at the bed sheets, it was as if he were on fire, his skin felt blistered and scorched.
He could not find the small amount of will to move his torture-racked body.
The pain finally subsided enough to let him pass out, as powerful golden sparks flashed from the very tips of his small fingers.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Early the next morning as the dazzling sun flickered through the tatty curtains and into the young boy's tiny room he groggily sat up.
Swinging his legs to sit on the side of his bed, he lazily felt around his bedside table for his large round glasses.
In his tiredness he still hadn't opened his eyes, as he could not find the energy.
His back was still aching terribly from the peculiar happenings of the previous night. He didn't bother to think about it too much, it was just a bad night's sleep that's all.
The dark haired boy slipped his black-framed glasses on his nose and slowly opened his eyes to let the harsh light filter in. A small groan escaped his dry, chapped lips as he slowly stood up.
The moment he managed to stand fully erect he felt the blood suddenly rush to his head causing him to become lightheaded. The boy lost his balance and pitched forward, hitting his head violently on the heavy wooden wardrobe in front of him.
The searing pain that resulted forced him to cry out in anguish. Though as soon as the sound had left his broken lips he knew he would forever regret it.
"BOY!!" Bellowed the voice of his Uncle Vernon from the kitchen.
"You better stop that bloody racket this instant and get down here!" Roared the whale of a man.
"Y..Yes, Uncle V..Vernon" the boy managed to call out, trying in vain to ignore the painful throb in his head that was causing his eyes to stream with water.
As quickly as his injured body would allow him, he grabbed a pair of baggy trousers and an old shirt and swiftly pulled them on.
Just as he reached the shiny handle of his bedroom door he paused, he could here a tapping noise on his bedroom window.
He looked over to see his snowy owl tapping its yellow beak against the fragile glass. He quickly ran over to open the window before his Uncle had a chance to—
"BOY!! That better not be that ruddy owl again!! If it is, you know precisely what will happen to it!!"
"Why do you do it girl? You must know that I get into terrible trouble when you do?" The boy said in desperation to the sallow feathered bird.
After seeing that she was carrying a letter, he gently took it from her beak and gave her a small owl treat from his pocket.
"Even though you don't deserve it mind!" the boy smiled and shook his head as the owl promptly snatched the treat from his fingers.
"HARRY POTTER!!" Came the screeching voice of his Aunt Petunia from the bottom of the stairs.
"YOU GET DOWN HERE WHEN YOUR UNCLE CALLS YOU……NOW!!"
"Yes, Aunt Petunia", Harry called as he dropped his letter on the bed, opened his door and ran down the stairs to an angrily waiting aunt and uncle.
The moment he entered the kitchen he was met by a flying piece of egg hitting him with a large squelch right on his forehead. Eww
"HA! Did you see that, Dad?!" Squealed the voice of his morbidly obese cousin Dudley.
"Bull's-eye! Ha Ha Ha!" Sniggered the fat lump from his position at the Dining table.
"Yes son, very funny!" the lump's father replied, hesitantly looking over his newspaper.
"Get in there and make me a coffee boy!" He said Loudly Turning his attention to Harry and pointing towards the kitchen.
"And do try to make it correctly and not become more of a nuisance than you already are!" The fat man said sternly, his portly face turning slightly purple.
"Yes Uncle Vernon" Harry replied automatically while wiping up the bits of egg that where slowly dribbling down his face and switching on the kettle.
"Oh, and that reminds me," his uncle said innocuously as if it were an everyday conversation.
"Your consistent noise and laziness this morning cost you all your afternoon meals, from now until you go back to that freakish little school of yours you will only receive your usual morning and evening meals if you are lucky!" The Obese man shook his newspaper straight as the Whale-child beside him sniggered happily
"Yes Uncle Vernon" replied Harry monotonously, hardly letting this latest restriction bother him, as he knew that his friends had sent him plenty of delicious treats over the holidays. They all knew he would be starved half to death staying with his wretched relatives.
After he had made Uncle Vernon's coffee, done Dudley's three massive breakfasts and Aunt Petunia's small one, he raced to do his chores which still took him three whole hours.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Harry sat down exhausted at the Dining room table as he watched his "caring" relatives laughing at the television and stuffing their faces with a large box of Belgian chocolates courtesy of Mrs. Figg, unbeknownst to them she had also left a small box just for Harry.
Ever since the summer before his sixth year, after the dementor attack, the old lady (who in Harry's opinion had too many cats) had been incredibly kind to Harry.
She was forever slipping him sweets every now and then if they came across each other on the street or if she saw him working in the front garden.
Harry clambered up the carpeted stairs back to his room. Closing the door, he flopped down onto his bed, the mattress springs squeaking as they were compressed under his weight. As he lay on his side he felt a dull throbbing coming from his back.
Harry sat up and stretched, trying to alleviate the pain but it did no good, the ache that felt as if it was coming from under and between his shoulder blades wouldn't go away.
He had shifted his shoulders in an attempt to dislodge the dull throbbing when it suddenly became a sharp stabbing pain. The agony blazed through his back and down his spine causing him to give a startled, pain filled yelp and for the second time that day he felt dizzy.
Harry fell to the ground again; accidentally pulling the letter that had arrived earlier down to the floor with him.
This was one tremendous backache. What had exactly happened last night? He made a mental note to have Hermione look him over when he saw her next.
In a valiant attempt to ignore the fluctuating pain, Harry tore open the letter.
When he did, three other envelopes appeared in his hands.
A shrinking charm must have been used he thought.
Harry sat down slowly on his bed again, his back muscles twitching; he placed two of the letters beside him and opened the first. It read:
HARRY!
How are you, mate? Hope the Dursleys aren't causing you much trouble. Fred and George said that the next time they see them they'd take the opportunity to test out some of their new products. Have you heard when you'll be allowed to come to The Burrow? Mum and Dad said that they haven't heard from Dumbledore in ages.
Apparently he's been on some important business for the Order. And there hasn't been an Order meeting a few months now either. Oh well, you usually turn up eventually! HA HA!
Anyway mate here's your birthday present!!
His Birthday! Goodness he had completely forgotten about it! That's what living with the Dursleys will do to a wizard!.
Hope you enjoy it.
See you soon, Harry!
Regards
Ron
He gazed into the envelope and discovered a tiny box not much bigger than a garden pea.
He assumed that it was shrunk with another shrinking charm. Obviously Hermione was there as Ron would never be able to perform such a complicated charm. But how did he open it? As if in response to his question the box started to grow and expand until it had become a large book half the size of his pillow.
Emblazoned on the front where the words: "Chudley Cannons History and Future – with additional logos for you broom!" Harry sniggered to himself as he thought of Ron's obsession with the famous orange Quidditch team.
Did he ever even stop to think that Harry might not even like the Canons? Oh well he still appreciated Ron's gift.
He picked up the second letter and slid out the yellowed parchment. It read:
Harry!
How are you? Have we sent you enough food? I hope so. I'm here at the Burrow at the moment. Mrs. Weasley has been on high alert with everything that's been going on with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. She barely lets us go out the back garden and if we do she insists that we wear a magical distress beacon. But it's ok; she's just an overprotective mother.
Anyway, your birthday present is in the envelope! Hope you don't already have it!
See you soon,
Your friend,
Hermione, xxx
Harry opened the envelope again and found another tiny box similar to Ron's. He waited with it in his hand until it grew to about the same size Ron's had. In it was another book called "Advanced Dueling techniques and Spells – For the prospective Auror"
Harry looked down at the book with admiration. It was brilliant. Very useful for the DA classes if they continued this year. It was obvious that this book was very rare and expensive. He made another mental note to ask Hermione exactly how she had obtained it.
Harry picked up the third and final letter and pulled out the parchment. It read:
HARRY!
How are you? Enjoying your birthday yet?? You soon will be. Your friends!
GRED & FORGE
The moment Harry looked away from the letter two large lanky bodies appeared on top of him with a distinctive crack. The dark haired wizard made a startled grunt as the two bodies stood up.
Harry looked up in shock to see two identical twin boys with flaming red hair and a generous dusting of freckles.
"Hiya Harry!!" The two boys greeted merrily in unison.
"Fred! George! What are you two doing here?" Harry exclaimed.
"We came to rescue you of course!" Stated Fred.
"What kind of friend's do you think we are? We wouldn't leave you here!" exclaimed George.
"I-I Don-" Harry stammered as a loud voice boomed up the stairs.
"BOY!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP THERE?! DO YOU WANT ME TO COME UPSTAIRS AND GIVE YOU A PIECE OF MY MIND?!" Bellowed his Uncle Vernon from the sitting room.
A big smirk grew on Fred and George's faces. "Wouldn't be a very big piece!" giggled George.
"Oops I almost forgot Fred!"
"So did I George!"
"Are you ready for your birthday present Harry?" the twins asked in unison.
"What do you mean my birthd-" Harry stopped as he saw the twins pulling out a small red log that looked suspiciously like the firework they had set off last year in school.
"This is the new version of our original 'Weasley's Wizarding Wheeze'.
"Hundreds of small fireworks cover the area until they come into contact with" Smiled Fred
"Uh, guys. I don't think that this is such a good ide-" Harry said as he was cut off mid sentence.
"Ah, don't fret Harry dear" Said George.
"We've got it all under control" Fred whispered.
Somehow Harry doubted that. Fred waved his wand high above his head and Harry's suitcase packed itself in the blink of an eye.
"Ready Fred?"
"I'm ready George!"
They stepped out onto the landing, only to find a red-faced Uncle Vernon thundering up the stairs. He looked up to see the two grinning twins.
"Who the bloody hell are you!?" cried Uncle Vernon in terror as he saw the wands in the two young wizards hands.
"Petunia!!" Cried the Purple-faced Walrus
"NOW!" The two boys howled. They both flourished their wands and the large red log erupted into hundreds of bright fizzing balls that began whizzing down the stairs and around the house, exploding as a dozens of them collided with Uncle Vernon sending him hurtling down the stairs.
"Come on Harry!" the boys called as they ran back into his room grabbing the hysterical Harry, his owl and all his belongings before disappearing with a loud pop.