I Disclaimer: I don't own it, for god's sake!
Author's Note: Wheee! This one-shot has been in the planning since August 2004! Over a year folks! Read and review. /i
hr
The sky above was a dark, impure grey. The clouds potent with rain, as potent as the tears of the one Hogwarts student who was crazy enough to sit out in it. He loved the weather, it matched his mood to a cue, and as far as he cared he could get sick, so long as he was able to sit out in this storm. The lake in front of him was grey too, matching the sky it reflected. Hogwarts wouldn't open as a school for several days, and thus, Harry was the only student there.
The raven haired boy stared up at the clouds, and smiled darkly when the first clap of thunder came roaring throughout the air in the distance. And slowly, as time passed, it got louder and louder, until… BOOM! A sound like several bombs exploding at once filled Harry's ears and in unison with it, rain began to pour down on the school grounds, battering the roof of the expansive castle.
Harry slowly tilted his head down, and then up again, feeling the rain cool his face as it became a torrent of water, already making the whole grounds swampy and mushy, Harry had no hard time believing that the lake would soon overflow, and began his retreat to higher grounds. Even when he was overlooking the lake, he felt his feet sinking into the wet, muddy ground beneath him. He shifted, and moved to a nearby tree, and skillfully climbed up it. He had gone up this tree everyday since he'd arrived at Hogwarts this summer. He'd talked McGonagall into sending him here after he refused to come to Grimmauld place.
He looked out over the muddy grounds, well aware that he could easily 'catch his death' as Mrs. Weasley put it. Things had been silent since his arrival and the commotion his large guard had caused in the town of Hogsmead. He hadn't seen hide or hair of Weasleys, or even Grangers since arriving either. Harry didn't know whether to be sad or relieved about this. On one hand, he was so very tired, and this time alone was good for him. He'd familiarized himself with every inch of the castle, he'd actually had a conversation with several of the castle portraits and ghosts, even Peeves had stopped in his hectic flying about the castle disrupting portraits' sleep to chat. Once more, Harry didn't know if he should be happy about this, or instead a little worried of himself. Not that there was anything wrong with talking to ghosts, he had quiet a good few conversations on rare occasions with Nicholas, but Peeves? Peeves who made life unbearable for students of the school from the very beginning?
Who knows, maybe he was slowly losing his mind. One could only hope. Harry continued to stare out, getting colder and colder with each passing minute. He jumped from his perch on the branch and landed in the deep, muddy, soggy ground. Predictably he felt himself sinking into the dirt. Annoyed, Harry pulled his foot out with a large sucking sound and thrust it onto dryer land. He did this with the other foot. Lather, rinse, repeat. When he wasn't so close to the lake that his foot sunk into the ground, Harry began a slow, half hearted walk toward the castle. A sudden sense of vertigo seized him as he drew even with the greenhouses and all at once he fell forward, right into the puddle of muddy water.
Softly it began, whispers in his ear; insults, curses, proclamations of hatred. "Ickle Harry Potter, fell down in the water. Can't find his mummy, can't find his daddy, and can't find uncie Siri to chase away the baddie." It was then, that he gained strength and looked up. Peter Pettigrew, as it was, stood over him, a wand in hand. Harry, however, had a wand too. He rolled over, but felt a boot on his stomach, pressing deep into it. Immobilized temporarily, Harry was forced to look up and watch as the man who betrayed his parent's whereabouts to Tom Riddle drew his wand and pointed it down at him. It was in that moment that Harry saw his death, and his life. He saw the redheaded girl he'd been admiring for a year now, who he had broken it off with at the end of his sixth. It was only then that all hope drained from him. He had been caught off guard, deep within his own mind, like a coward who couldn't face reality.
"So tell me Potter," Pettigrew said, far too coolly for the man Harry remembered. "Would you like to see them all again, Mumsy, Dadsy, Siri, and that infernal muggle lover?" When silence was all that met the question Harry felt the foot dig a little deeper into his gut. "Well, come on, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"Shut up you dirty rat." Harry watched the anger take hold of the rat-like man's face, transform it into something even uglier. He watched the wand rise above the man's head and heard the breath being drawn in, one that would be used to utter six syllables, the six syllables that had taken more lives than any other curse in history.
" i Avada Kedavra! /i " And the cry was heard, and the cry was gone. A flash of green light overtook Harry, and he screeched with immense pain. It felt as if he was losing everything, his mind included.
"Harry, Harry, calm down." He let gulped deeply for air as he felt his face leave the cool puddle. "Harry, calm down!" The boy's thrashing was hard to handle. His emerald eyes flew open, and he felt himself drawn into an embrace. "It's alright, Mum sent me along to fetch you. It's your birthday, you know." He felt his muddy, wet face pressed against a source of great warmth as Ginny held him close against her chest. He could hear a heartbeat, loudly, thumping in his ear.
"Ginny, thank God." For the moment, Harry was more than content to allow himself a moment rest, to allow her to hold him, to know that he was not alone. The long red hair hung down over his ebon hair as Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley set atop the hill overlooking the lake on Hogwart's Grounds.