Summary:
Sixteen year old Harry Potter is on the run, haunted by aurors who won't leave him alone. He can no longer tell night from day as he flees those who accuse him of intentions he doesn't possess. Little does he know, there's something bigger brewing in the horizon.
AU where James is dead, Lily Evans is with Severus Snape, Voldemort (and also Tom Riddle) was never born and there is no Dark Lord. There are, however, some parallels with the original Harry Potter story. One-shot.
Disclaimer:
I am not making any money from this fanfiction, and I do not own any of the recognisable characters or story ideas as seen in Harry Potter, and owned by JK Rowling.
A/N:
(you can skip this if you wish, no hard feelings)
A bit of an experiment to see what it would've been like if Harry Potter was still famous - but for very different reasons, in very different circumstances. This is also a theme that I've been trying to write for ages to no success - until now. At least, I hope it's somewhat successful. I quite admire those misleading, mysterious narratives where the lines of reality blur, and the unreliable narrator makes it difficult to tell. I can only hope that I've pulled it off and confused the heck out of you all, but you that you also all understand what I've been going on about by the end ;)
Actually, I'm a little worried that this is all just a pointless story line and that there's no build up or revelation or anything but, ah. Hm. I'll stop before I reverse-advertise you all out of reading my story.
Another warning is that I wrote this at around three to five in the morning on no sleep, so there's that excuse of course. Not that it really excuses me from anything because I edited it again when I was less sleep deprived, but you didn't come for the A/N so I'm leaving it at that. Enjoy!
HYPNAGOGIA
Reeling in Reality
The sounds of shouting reach his ears. The aurors are right behind him. 'Stop running,' one of the fools shouts, 'you'll get a lighter sentence!' He wouldn't really: If he did give himself in now, their memories of the incident would still be fresh on their minds. He would probably get a much lighter sentence if he could just wait it out a little longer - or better yet, never get caught at all.
More spells fly past his ears, some missing him by just a hair's whisper. He's okay at dodging, he thinks. After all, it's what got him through all those bludgers in the Quidditch games, as well as those brutish attacks from Malfoy's just-as-brutish bodybuilders. 'Flagello!' A roar resounds through the forest. They aren't happy, it seems. A few hours of constant running and chasing does that to you, he supposes. He's still surprised, though. Normally aurors don't revert to lashing curses unless they're desperate.
Or when the criminal has done something truly terrible.
RIR
Seven in the morning, inside the boys' dorm at Gryffindor Tower. That's where he was, he reassured himself. He was safe for a few hours until he woke up - then it'd be running without running water again. He was safe.
RIR
Harry walked through the halls slowly, savouring the tranquillity of the empty halls.
'Having fun?' He heard a voice he hadn't heard in a while: Luna. Harry looked up. The girl was perched in a nook on the window, quite high up. She was wearing those quirky glasses of hers again, the ones that almost swallowed her face, they were so big. Luna was a refreshing character – unlike all the other students (and adults) he knew, she had never judged him for anything he did – or didn't – do.
'Not quite,' he answered truthfully. His world had just been tipped upside down; his dreams his only salvation. Fun would have been an understatement. Fun was the opposite of what he was having.
'Make the most of it,' Luna advised dreamily, hopping off the nook as she skipped away.
RIR
Harry wishes there is an alternative to dreamless sleep – but for the daytime. He is getting sick of waking up to this horrible, horrible reality. And his socks are wet.
In truth, Harry doesn't quite know what the deal is. After all, he'd only been caught man-handling Snape, with a wand to his throat. He wasn't really going to do anything else. Honest. He just wants someone to believe what was going on. But no, the aurors never believe him. Not when it concerns Severus Snape, the youngest, most esteemed potions master in history, who is also, coincidentally, the partner (bed warmer) of Lily Evans, wife of the late James Potter. His mother.
Everyone knew the tragic love story - the unwanted young boy, bullied as a child and protected by the popular girl. The girl who was unwillingly cajoled into dating, and marrying, the bully. They had a child. The child was beautiful – a handsome combination of both parents, and everything they could have wanted. But the ex-bully-who-might-still-secretly-be-a-bully supposedly caught a muggle disease, and died quickly, before St Mungo's could find a cure. The now-publicly-distraught popular girl somehow found herself a shoulder to lean on in the unwanted young boy who had loved her first, and they fall in love again, together. Happily ever after.
Except it clearly isn't, because there was still a child, making everything unnecessarily messy. Him.
The raven-haired youth who isn't quite what anyone wants, or needs anymore. The boy who they can all blame – because, after all, who would defend him? Not the popular girl (woman), who only sees him as a reminder of everything she had once disliked, and certainly not the other unwanted young boy (man) who had been bullied by the boy's father. And certainly not his friends, who mostly keep him around for attention.
Well, with the image he's been carrying around since birth, no one voluntarily stood forward to defend him when he fell.
RIR
'I'm sorry no I swear I didn't do anything I swear I'm sorry it won't happen again no no I'm sorry I didn't mean to I didn't -'
'Harry, mate, wake up!' Ron shook him. 'Merlin, you woke the entire dorm!'
Harry blinked dreamily around him. 'M'sorry.'
'Yes, we know,' Ron rolled his eyes, 'But since we're all awake, d'you guys wanna head to the kitchens with me?' That was Ron, alright: didn't care for anything that much except for the state of his stomach. Circe forbid anything come before that. Like asking his friend if he was alright.
Harry shook himself again. Self-pity wouldn't do him any good. If he regretted rejecting Malfoy in first year, he'd have to live with the consequences: a dorm full of gormless Gryffindors.
At least he was dreaming again – no more aurors until daybreak. Four more hours, he told himself. Four more hours to spoil himself with material comforts before he got thrown back into the real world again. Just four more.
Now all he had to do was convince people he wasn't mad.
It helped ease his conscience.
RIR
'Luna, I'm sane aren't I?' Perhaps she wasn't the best person to ask, by popular opinion. But he had always treasured her opinion: she had never lied to him, nor did she ever judge him – which was more than he could say for most people.
'Don't you remember 5th year?' She replied in a lilting voice, ''you're just as sane as I am', of course.' Ah, yes. Fifth year. Last year. Sweet, blissful, Fifth year. The year before this mess started. Speaking of which, his eyelids were feeling a little drowsy...
RIR
Harry ran from the dungeons. He could swear he had heard the voices of those damned auror and saw a flash of their blue robes just a second ago. Harry was running so fast he didn't even notice Professor McGonagall until –
'McGonagall! Oh I'm so sorry, Professor – Professor McGonagall!' Harry tripped over his words, 'I was running from the aurors, I can't let them catch me, Professor, they hate me, they'll lock me away, sir, they think I'm dark, I'm not dark, I swear it, I'm not dark, sir, sir please listen to me, sir I'm telling you, I was only a little angry, it happens to the best of us, I swear sir, I promise I didn't mean to!'
Professor McGonagall stood speechless as she caught Harry just before he hit the ground cold, still muttering litanies and twitching in his unconsciousness. 'He must be suffering from nightmares,' she thought, 'perhaps sleep-walking, too. The poor dear.'
RIR
'Flagello! Flagello, Flagello, Crucio!'
He's getting better at dodging; they seem to be getting more desperate. They have to be, if they had permission to use unforgivables… Unless they hadn't .
Harry shakes his head forcefully, and leaps over another boulder, desperate to not be caught. He may be out of breath and out of money, but he would not let himself be encaged like an animal. Like what his mother - no, Lily - had done to his father.
RIR
Madame Pomfrey looked troubled. 'His sleep seems fine, Minnie, I don't see what's wrong with him.'
'Are you sure, Poppy?' McGonagall confirmed, as her eyes steadily grew wider. 'He hasn't been possessed – or, or is suffering from any disturbing nightmares?'
'I'm sure, Minnie, he doesn't show a single sign of possession or unfit sleep.' then Poppy frowned, knowing that her news would disturb her old friend. 'However, when I checked his wand… he has residue from an cruciatus curse left on it.'
McGonagall gasped. Lily's son – using unforgivables? She supposed with what his parentage was that it was possible – the late Potter Senior had always been trouble, after all – it could even be said to be expected. But she never knew it could be like this, never knew it would be so bad. 'Are you sure?' Her voice shook. Her poor Lily, she had already suffered so much – what would this do to her, knowing what evil she had spawned?
Harry Potter was unstable, and dangerous.
RIR
'Mr Potter! You're awake!' Harry woke to the familiar voice of Madame Pomfrey. But there was something different in the tone of her voice this time – she seemed almost... repulsed? No, no, no... She couldn't have possibly found out what was happening to him, could she? Had his real world finally bled into his dreams?
'Yes, Madame Pomfrey?' He smiled sweetly at her, in a desperate attempt to try and cover up his nervousness. If he was nice enough, surely she would forget anything bad about him, right?
What a joke. 'I'm afraid we're sending you to St Mungo's. Your condition is... untreatable without Ministry resources.' More like Ministry interference. Madame Pomfrey's lips thinned in disapproval with what she thought Harry Potter was involved in.
No, no, no, no, no, no, 'No, no, no, no, Madame Pomfrey, I swear I'm innocent, I haven't done anything, I'm as innocent as you are! I promise you I haven't done anything that you think I have!' His eyes wide, darting around the room.
Madame Pomfrey felt disgusted with herself now that she knew what sort of person she had once welcomed into her sanctuary. And to think she had once pitied him for being treated the way he was – no more! The evil little demon deserved it all, she thought bitterly, as the wool dropped lower over her eyes. She thought Mr Potter was a terrible liar, trying to cover up his dirty work so hastily. Well! They'd discover what he'd been up to soon enough. He wouldn't get away do easily. Not when she'd already called the aurors here to help her settle the matter.
Let them at it.
RIR
The aurors burst in.
And Harry Potter jumps out of the window.
RIR
Harry couldn't believe his dreams had been contaminated by his life so quickly. The aurors had just been called to Hogwarts - by the school Healer of all people! So now he was running, both during the day and in his sleep. If he survived this, he promised himself to try out marathon running someday: with the kind of endurance he had built up, he was certainly fit enough to win one easily.
To his shock, his magic didn't protect him when he jumped right into (and out of) the hospital-wing window. Had it failed him? Why did he dodge so clumsily? The aurors were catching up. His friends were catching up. 'Incendere!' A familiar voice cried. Ron! Ron was the one who had shouted at him! Of course - his best friend was the first to turn. Surprise.
And suddenly, darkness enveloped him once more.
RIR
Flashes. Life. Darkness. A void.
Pain.
White-hot, poker-like pain, dancing across the surface of his skin, burning everything in its path - the whipping curse! He remembered! He had been cursed. During his dream? Why would he be dreaming about Sixth Year Hogwarts when he was a Seventh Year Graduate?... A Seventh Year Graduate? But what did he learn in Seventh Year? What was even on the syllabus? How could he remember every detail of the Sixth Year syllabus as if he had done it yesterday, and not know anything from Seventh Year?
RIR
They had let him finish his schooling. A year later, they found another excuse to persecute him. He tried to defend himself, to no avail. He was on the run.
RIR
The sounds of shouting reached his ears. The aurors were right behind him.
A/N:
(yes, another one, sorry!)
I had to add this: one of my biggest flaws in writing is that I always scramble up the tenses (but the present tense during the dreams and past tense during… well, the present, was intentional, if it wasn't clear), so if you pick up anything that doesn't look right (grammar or otherwise) please tell me :))
Additionally, line breaks wasn't really working and I couldn't use the copy-and-paste function because that just spit out a series of coding commands when I tried to save the document so I'm really sorry, and I promise I'll come back soon and see if I can fix it!
So did you like it? Did you hate it? Should I write more one-shots? Should I turn this into more than a one-shot? I'm curious - comment and let me know!