Chapter 1: Darkness Rising
By RicaSieg
"It is time," muttered the old man. "The prophecies must be fulfilled. Our world is in danger again."
The room was circular with many bookshelves. There was a glass case that held many strange objects. A perch sat in the corner, currently unoccupied. The man sat at his desk, which was covered in books and parchment.
There was a knock at his door.
"Come in." A tall, thin man wearing slightly battered robes entered. He was carrying a strange glowing, red orb.
"They're hurting him. He's not eating. Ron and Hermione have not heard from him in weeks!" rambled the disheveled man. His hands were currently strangling each other as he glared at the person sitting before him
"He must stay were he is. The proph…"
"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE STUPID PROPHECY! HARRY IS ALL ALONE and and…" The tall man broke into silent tears. The Headmaster looked away as the man tried to pick up the shattered remains of his resolve.
"Sirius, the prophecy must come true. If it doesn't, we have no hope left. He must be at his Uncle's house at midnight on his birthday. If he is not then all chances of our survival are gone. "
After this was said, Sirius stood up, walked over, and leaned over the man's desk. Furry was etched all over the man's thin face.
"Why does he have to be there?" Sirius asked in anguish. "Why can't I send him letters? He might not be so depressed if I could write to him!"
"Harry will tell you why if he chooses to do so. Fudge is watching that house like a hawk. He is trying to find someway to incriminate Harry or my self. If he finds out you are corresponding with Harry then both of you will be in grave danger. Harry is stronger than we think he is. He is stronger than he thinks he is. He'll get through this."
Suddenly the orb flashed a deep shade of black.
"Professor, doesn't black mean death? He's killing himself, Dumbledore! I am going to him right now." With that said Sirius promptly turned on his heel and made for the door.
"Wait Sirius-"
"No, Albus! You see the globe! He is on the brink from killing himself. I won't let him do it!"
"Mr. Black you will remain in that spot until I allow you to leave. If you don't then I will resort to magic!" The aura around Dumbledore changed from calm to anger. Power radiated off the wizened old wizard.
Sirius started up into the old man's tired face. A little surprised that the man would lose his patience so quickly, he relented and sunk into the chair that he had previously occupied. 'Damn' he thought, 'he can still control me. I feel like back in school.'
Dumbledore's face slowly relaxed and the twinkle came back to his eyes. His face remained stressed, but he no longer held the air of one who had gotten tired of all of the stresses that bore down on him.
"Sirius, Harry will be fine. Trust me, and if you don't trust me, then trust Rowena. She has never made an incorrect prediction. Harry will make it through tonight."
"All right. You're probably right, as usual," mumbled Sirius, 'Although I'm not sure why I'm trusting a dead person' and then the two men sat and waited.
A bright flash of lightening brightens the scene.
"Avada Kedavra"
Red hair tumbles to the ground. The boy lies dead.
Evil laughing breaks through the grief stricken quite.
"Avada Kedavra"
Curly brown hair spills onto the red. The girl lies dead.
Fire on earth.
"You will fall Potter. I will destroy everything until I have you broken and bleeding at my feet!" Voldemort swore and cackled.
The scene vanished as the boy called Harry Potter awakened. He shakily sat up and brushed his sticky hair off his face.
"Just a dream. It was just a dream. He can't get them. He can't get me," Harry mumbled over and over to himself as he made his way shakily to the slightly opened window. Grateful for the cool air on his sweaty face, Harry closed his eyes and willed the tears not to spill. These frightful dreams had been occurring all summer. He saw his best friends' deaths, his teachers' deaths, and Sirius's death. The only way he new these things were not really happening was the fact that he saw his own death over and over again. The events of the third task still plagued his dreams too. There was never a night that he didn't have at least one of these dreams. As a result, he had large nearly black shadows under his eyes and almost transparent skin. His eyes had dulled and no longer shimmered like emeralds.
To add to these unattractive qualities, was an assortment of bruises. His uncle had taken to beating him again, because Grunnings Drill Company had lost a lot of business and his salary was cut, so Uncle Vernon had become so angry and depressed that he had taken up drinking and vent anger upon Harry. The beatings weren't too bad at first, but they were slowly getting worse.
He remembered, when he first stepped into the house at the beginning of the summer, how he had tried to take his trunk upstairs…
Harry lifted the trunk with a little difficulty and headed for the stairs. As he approached them a large figure blocked his way.
"I don't think so," his uncle sneered. "It goes in the closet under the stairs."
"But…" Harry protested.
Uncle Vernon whipped his hand around and slapped Harry. Harry stared back at him in shock. "If you give me any more trouble I'll beat you until you can't even lie down! Now put the trunk in the cupboard and go make dinner. After dinner there is a list of chores with your name on it if you don't get them done you will have twice as many chores tomorrow plus the ones you didn't finish. Complain and you won't be eating for weeks!"
Everything went downhill from there. Instead of just being hit for arguing, Harry was overworked and starving and his uncle hit him for no reason at all. After awhile, Harry grew to enjoy the beatings. He thought he deserved them. He blamed himself for Cedric's death and the pain was what he was receiving in return for killing him. It was for this reason that he never told anyone.
As Harry sat beside the window, he tried to keep his thoughts off of death and Voldemort, but, success evaded him. He tried thinking of Quidditch, but when he did Cho's depressed swam into his mind, and he had a hard time pushing the dreams of Cedric's death out of his mind. He thought of his best friends, Ron and Hermione, and these thoughts kept his mood lighter, but the happy thoughts soon turned dark. 'I hope they're all right. They looked awfully worried when we parted. I wonder if their houses are being protected. They wouldn't have to be if I hadn't let Voldemort back into his body. They shouldn't have to worry about me. I want them to be happy. It's not their fault the got stuck with a friend who attracts danger like a moth to a flame. Voldemort is going to continue to come after me. If I were gone, there would be a smaller chance of them getting killed, like Cedric. Sirius would be happier too. He wouldn't have to worry about me getting killed.
'I don't want Voldemort to kill me; then he would win. If I killed myself, then every one would be happy. And he won't have won! I could be with my parents again and get away from this pain. The Dursleys would be happy. I wouldn't have to put up with all of this famous nonsense. I'm just a worthless runt with a scar.
'I should have died, not my mother.'
These dark thoughts rolled around his mind along with many others. After about an hour of contemplating, his thoughts were interrupted by a tapping sound. On his windowsill lay a mysterious red envelope. He reached out a tentative hand and opened it. Instead of a letter falling out, the sounds of his parents' heart wrenching last moments entered his ears.
"No! Leave him alone!" screamed Harry's mother pitifully. Harry collapsed onto the floor, the letter still clutched in his hand as he tried to ward off the sounds of the evil laughter and the screaming, while at the same time, trying to hold onto what he had lost. Tears streamed down the broken boy's face as he huddled into a corner.
"What's going on in there boy?!" bellowed his uncle from downstairs. Harry was too upset to answer. Uncle Vernon pounded up the stairs and swung the door open. He grinned evilly as he swaggered over to Harry. "You interrupted my drinking, Boy! Now you'll pay!" With that said, Harry received the worst beating he had ever had.
Since he had already been on the floor, he could not hope to knock his head and pass out. Pain coursed through his body. When his uncle had finished, Harry was in so much pain he could feel the blood spurting out of the cuts that lined his frail body. "Wasn't that a nice birthday present, Harry?" slued his enraged uncle. "Never interrupt my drinking again if you want to live!"
'So it's my birthday. I wonder what my friends are doing. I hope they aren't worrying about me. They shouldn't. I'm a worthless piece of trash. I don't deserve to live after all that I have done.' With these thoughts spinning through his head, Harry pulled himself up to the windowsill and pushed the window open as far as it would go. He paused for a moment before pulling himself through. He sat on the windowsill with his legs dangling out.
Then, Harry Potter jumped.
A/N Hey peeps. I just want to thank my beta reader, Medz d. for all her wonderful help. Without her, you probably wouldn't understand this story at all. Don't worry guys. You find out more about the prophecy in the next chapter. The next chapter is also quite funny. Please Review!
LotsOfLoveAndStuff
RicaSieg(akaBlossom)
By RicaSieg
"It is time," muttered the old man. "The prophecies must be fulfilled. Our world is in danger again."
The room was circular with many bookshelves. There was a glass case that held many strange objects. A perch sat in the corner, currently unoccupied. The man sat at his desk, which was covered in books and parchment.
There was a knock at his door.
"Come in." A tall, thin man wearing slightly battered robes entered. He was carrying a strange glowing, red orb.
"They're hurting him. He's not eating. Ron and Hermione have not heard from him in weeks!" rambled the disheveled man. His hands were currently strangling each other as he glared at the person sitting before him
"He must stay were he is. The proph…"
"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE STUPID PROPHECY! HARRY IS ALL ALONE and and…" The tall man broke into silent tears. The Headmaster looked away as the man tried to pick up the shattered remains of his resolve.
"Sirius, the prophecy must come true. If it doesn't, we have no hope left. He must be at his Uncle's house at midnight on his birthday. If he is not then all chances of our survival are gone. "
After this was said, Sirius stood up, walked over, and leaned over the man's desk. Furry was etched all over the man's thin face.
"Why does he have to be there?" Sirius asked in anguish. "Why can't I send him letters? He might not be so depressed if I could write to him!"
"Harry will tell you why if he chooses to do so. Fudge is watching that house like a hawk. He is trying to find someway to incriminate Harry or my self. If he finds out you are corresponding with Harry then both of you will be in grave danger. Harry is stronger than we think he is. He is stronger than he thinks he is. He'll get through this."
Suddenly the orb flashed a deep shade of black.
"Professor, doesn't black mean death? He's killing himself, Dumbledore! I am going to him right now." With that said Sirius promptly turned on his heel and made for the door.
"Wait Sirius-"
"No, Albus! You see the globe! He is on the brink from killing himself. I won't let him do it!"
"Mr. Black you will remain in that spot until I allow you to leave. If you don't then I will resort to magic!" The aura around Dumbledore changed from calm to anger. Power radiated off the wizened old wizard.
Sirius started up into the old man's tired face. A little surprised that the man would lose his patience so quickly, he relented and sunk into the chair that he had previously occupied. 'Damn' he thought, 'he can still control me. I feel like back in school.'
Dumbledore's face slowly relaxed and the twinkle came back to his eyes. His face remained stressed, but he no longer held the air of one who had gotten tired of all of the stresses that bore down on him.
"Sirius, Harry will be fine. Trust me, and if you don't trust me, then trust Rowena. She has never made an incorrect prediction. Harry will make it through tonight."
"All right. You're probably right, as usual," mumbled Sirius, 'Although I'm not sure why I'm trusting a dead person' and then the two men sat and waited.
A bright flash of lightening brightens the scene.
"Avada Kedavra"
Red hair tumbles to the ground. The boy lies dead.
Evil laughing breaks through the grief stricken quite.
"Avada Kedavra"
Curly brown hair spills onto the red. The girl lies dead.
Fire on earth.
"You will fall Potter. I will destroy everything until I have you broken and bleeding at my feet!" Voldemort swore and cackled.
The scene vanished as the boy called Harry Potter awakened. He shakily sat up and brushed his sticky hair off his face.
"Just a dream. It was just a dream. He can't get them. He can't get me," Harry mumbled over and over to himself as he made his way shakily to the slightly opened window. Grateful for the cool air on his sweaty face, Harry closed his eyes and willed the tears not to spill. These frightful dreams had been occurring all summer. He saw his best friends' deaths, his teachers' deaths, and Sirius's death. The only way he new these things were not really happening was the fact that he saw his own death over and over again. The events of the third task still plagued his dreams too. There was never a night that he didn't have at least one of these dreams. As a result, he had large nearly black shadows under his eyes and almost transparent skin. His eyes had dulled and no longer shimmered like emeralds.
To add to these unattractive qualities, was an assortment of bruises. His uncle had taken to beating him again, because Grunnings Drill Company had lost a lot of business and his salary was cut, so Uncle Vernon had become so angry and depressed that he had taken up drinking and vent anger upon Harry. The beatings weren't too bad at first, but they were slowly getting worse.
He remembered, when he first stepped into the house at the beginning of the summer, how he had tried to take his trunk upstairs…
Harry lifted the trunk with a little difficulty and headed for the stairs. As he approached them a large figure blocked his way.
"I don't think so," his uncle sneered. "It goes in the closet under the stairs."
"But…" Harry protested.
Uncle Vernon whipped his hand around and slapped Harry. Harry stared back at him in shock. "If you give me any more trouble I'll beat you until you can't even lie down! Now put the trunk in the cupboard and go make dinner. After dinner there is a list of chores with your name on it if you don't get them done you will have twice as many chores tomorrow plus the ones you didn't finish. Complain and you won't be eating for weeks!"
Everything went downhill from there. Instead of just being hit for arguing, Harry was overworked and starving and his uncle hit him for no reason at all. After awhile, Harry grew to enjoy the beatings. He thought he deserved them. He blamed himself for Cedric's death and the pain was what he was receiving in return for killing him. It was for this reason that he never told anyone.
As Harry sat beside the window, he tried to keep his thoughts off of death and Voldemort, but, success evaded him. He tried thinking of Quidditch, but when he did Cho's depressed swam into his mind, and he had a hard time pushing the dreams of Cedric's death out of his mind. He thought of his best friends, Ron and Hermione, and these thoughts kept his mood lighter, but the happy thoughts soon turned dark. 'I hope they're all right. They looked awfully worried when we parted. I wonder if their houses are being protected. They wouldn't have to be if I hadn't let Voldemort back into his body. They shouldn't have to worry about me. I want them to be happy. It's not their fault the got stuck with a friend who attracts danger like a moth to a flame. Voldemort is going to continue to come after me. If I were gone, there would be a smaller chance of them getting killed, like Cedric. Sirius would be happier too. He wouldn't have to worry about me getting killed.
'I don't want Voldemort to kill me; then he would win. If I killed myself, then every one would be happy. And he won't have won! I could be with my parents again and get away from this pain. The Dursleys would be happy. I wouldn't have to put up with all of this famous nonsense. I'm just a worthless runt with a scar.
'I should have died, not my mother.'
These dark thoughts rolled around his mind along with many others. After about an hour of contemplating, his thoughts were interrupted by a tapping sound. On his windowsill lay a mysterious red envelope. He reached out a tentative hand and opened it. Instead of a letter falling out, the sounds of his parents' heart wrenching last moments entered his ears.
"No! Leave him alone!" screamed Harry's mother pitifully. Harry collapsed onto the floor, the letter still clutched in his hand as he tried to ward off the sounds of the evil laughter and the screaming, while at the same time, trying to hold onto what he had lost. Tears streamed down the broken boy's face as he huddled into a corner.
"What's going on in there boy?!" bellowed his uncle from downstairs. Harry was too upset to answer. Uncle Vernon pounded up the stairs and swung the door open. He grinned evilly as he swaggered over to Harry. "You interrupted my drinking, Boy! Now you'll pay!" With that said, Harry received the worst beating he had ever had.
Since he had already been on the floor, he could not hope to knock his head and pass out. Pain coursed through his body. When his uncle had finished, Harry was in so much pain he could feel the blood spurting out of the cuts that lined his frail body. "Wasn't that a nice birthday present, Harry?" slued his enraged uncle. "Never interrupt my drinking again if you want to live!"
'So it's my birthday. I wonder what my friends are doing. I hope they aren't worrying about me. They shouldn't. I'm a worthless piece of trash. I don't deserve to live after all that I have done.' With these thoughts spinning through his head, Harry pulled himself up to the windowsill and pushed the window open as far as it would go. He paused for a moment before pulling himself through. He sat on the windowsill with his legs dangling out.
Then, Harry Potter jumped.
A/N Hey peeps. I just want to thank my beta reader, Medz d. for all her wonderful help. Without her, you probably wouldn't understand this story at all. Don't worry guys. You find out more about the prophecy in the next chapter. The next chapter is also quite funny. Please Review!
LotsOfLoveAndStuff
RicaSieg(akaBlossom)