Title: Dreams
Summary: Introspection and a tragedy.
Rating: R
Warnings: I should warn you now, if you haven't caught on, that there is slash in this story. If it gets explicit, i'll upload the explicit parts to Adult I'll write an author's note when i do. But the chapters here won't contain anything NC-17.
Disclaimer: None of it is mine. Characters, settings are all J.K Rowlings….
The Meaning of My Life
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((Dursley Residence))
He woke up gradually, in stages of shifting awareness, half seen images and voices. There were vague feelings and thoughts floating around in his head. Fear, sadness, confusion and shock. There was terror and despair. Finally, there was nothing.
Lights lit up his bedroom window, the black crossbars flaring to yellow as beautiful fireworks blasted in the sky. Cartwheels and whizzes, bright sputtering fountains. He crawled upright from his twisted bed sheets, untangling his legs to stumble to the window. There on the horizon danced abstract patterns. Beautiful. Then they died down and left the night to darkness again.
He stood there, gazing for a time, thinking that maybe they'd light up again. Those beautiful flowers of fire. He'd only seen them once before, during New Year. He'd been let out of his cupboard that one time during the birth of a new year. He'd messed it up though. They'd had a little firework party, and Dudley had been so happy. He'd genuinely felt happy too. They had been so absorbed in watching their son dance around holding the firecracker; they hadn't noticed him standing there, beneath the verandah in the garden. He hadn't gone nearer than that. But the fireworks… they had been so pretty. He'd only wanted to see them alight. All at once…
He turned away from the window and sighed. They wouldn't light up again. He sat back down on his bed and gazed around his cluttered room. Books, quills and parchment littered his table. On the floor was his trunk, which contained his cauldron set, and astronomy telescope. His broom was propped up against the cupboard door. All his clothes were neatly folded either in his trunk or drawers or else hung up in the cupboard. Hedwig's cage was safely ensconced in the shadows above his cupboard.
Everything in his room reminded him of how much he belonged at Hogwarts. His things stood out here, in this normal middle class house in a normal suburban neighborhood. His broom, strange and sinister in its cobwebby nook, his scrolls ancient looking and mysterious with colour changing ink splashed across them. Most of all himself, he thought as he looked in the dresser mirror.
His looks hadn't changed much, still the same Harry. Green eyes, black hair, skinny shoulders. But inside, he felt so different. He felt stretched thin. Compartmentalized. There was the Harry he was, deep inside. Insecure and scared, doubtful and crying out for help. He didn't like that Harry. It was the Harry that he had lived with in that cupboard, the Harry who shuddered at the spiders and cringed when his 'front door' was pounded on by his aunt. He really didn't like that Harry. Thank God I'm growing up.
Then there was the Harry he was outside of the cupboard. The quiet Harry, obedient and tolerating. This Harry was okay. He was a survivor, he thought. He's kept me sane.
There was the Harry of Hogwarts. He smiled. He loved being himself the most then. He was free. There was no other word to describe it. All he had were memories. They were the only things that defined this Harry, because he could be anything at Hogwarts.
And last of all, was The Boy Who Lived.
He looked up into the mirror, directly at himself. Actually, he thought, it wasn't quite true to say that he hadn't changed at all. Maybe his features were the same. But sometimes when he stared at himself during the cold lonely days and nights, when his face was the only animate thing he had to look at, he would notice suddenly how when he thought of things, his eyes would darken and lines would appear. At times he found himself glaring so fiercely at his reflection that he startled himself. At other times, he found himself wondering where in those vacant eyes lay the boy he knew he was. The signs of my impending insanity.
Truth to be told, he'd done a lot of thinking these holidays. He'd had a lot of time, having finished all his summer assignments early owing to the fact that this time, having been threatened with death, the Dursleys had not locked up his trunk.
He hadn't turned away from his thoughts this time. Hadn't tried to run circles. It hadn't been easy, but he'd thought all the thoughts that had been lurking in his head and troubling him.
He'd repeated to himself, over and over, Sirius is dead. Sirius is dead. Because it had seemed so unreal in this place where the magical world seemed like a fantasy he'd had. That was one of the reasons why he hated coming back to the Dursleys. After a while, drenched in the mundane life at Privet Drive, he began to wonder in the tiny hours of the night, whether he really was a wizard.
But it was REAL. And Sirius really was DEAD. He just couldn't get over the fact that there would be no more cheerful letters from his godfather, sent in concern for him. Hedwig would never deliver his words to Sirius. Where will they go then, he wondered. All the things he wanted to tell Sirius. Would they die like him too? Can I bury them? Sirius left no body.
He thought about him. About his happily wagging tail and cold nose. His shaggy hair and bright empty eyes. Sirius had suffered a lot, mostly because of him, in one way or another. Never had freedom. Harry shook his head. Never really lived, except at Hogwarts. Like me.
Harry turned away from his blurry reflection. He'd thought about it all already. He'd even considered just giving up, going to Voldemort and shouting, "YES, I'll join you!" or "Kill me now!" But really, he didn't dare do it. He didn't dare look for him. Now that he knew how much hurt he could feel. If he gave up now, it wouldn't be an easy death. And more importantly, it wouldn't be the end. Or rather, it WOULD be the end. The end of my magical world. His friends would suffer and wonder why on earth they had ever counted on him. Maybe Hermione would say that the stress was just too much. Ron would know for sure, that it was all a trick - a trap that I had fallen into, and not dared to take him with me.
Harry sighed and scrubbed his hand across his forehead. There was nothing to it. He'd thought long and hard about all the possible roads to take. Give up? Run away? Stay and learn at Hogwarts then… join the Ministry… as an Auror? But he didn't want that. Not anymore, not after seeing what had happened to Sirius. Look at where it got all of them. Dead, mutilated. Mad Eye Moody came to mind at this thought. He imagined himself in the future, swirling eye in his head, lips blasted out of shape, his scar the only thing recognizable. He shuddered. No.
He couldn't just hide complacently at Hogwarts anymore that was for certain. He didn't yet know what to do exactly, but he did have a budding plan in the back of his head. Now if only he could get back to Hogwarts.
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((Later that night, at Privet Drive))
The night air stirred suddenly and a strange quickening could be felt in the wind. A car turned the corner and headlights swept across the houses making windows flash to reveal stark midnight scenes. It trundled up the street, and turned into the driveway of No. 4 Privet Drive.
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, looked out the window. The Dursleys are back. He turned away and flopped down on his bed.
CRASH!He spun around just in time to feel the shattered glass pierce his face. Fire glittered against the shattered remains of his window. Harry flung himself across the room as another ear shattering blast shook the house and cracked the walls. Diving for his pillow, he drew out his wand, wiping the blood that trickled down his face from his nose and ears with his sleeve.
"Alohomora!"
He grabbed his broom and dashed into the hallway, trying not to panic. There was magic in the air, he could feel it in the shiver that ran down his back. He shook himself and readied his wand. Something's happened. Dumbledore's enchantment is broken!
He stopped halfway down the stairs and stooped to peer through the iron bars at what was left of the front portion of Dursley's prized house. It was completely smashed and… their car! The Dursley's car was stuck, half in and half out of the house, rammed into the brick walls and crushed out of shape. He dropped the broom and ran down the stairs, his heart pounding harder than his feet.
"Pleaseletthembealright, pleaseletthembealright," he muttered as he darted around the mangled machinery, trying to pull open the doors but they were wedged fast. He whirled away and jumped onto the bonnet, clearing away the windscreen that were still held in place in a network of cracks. Through it, he could barely see their faces, smudged and encrusted with blood. He sat back on his heels, the last of the glass crushed in his fist.
"Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia…"
Shock made him shiver and breath in shallow gasps. Their faces, so familiar in their twisted unhappy expressions were gruesomely disfigured, eyes wide and bloodshot. Vernon's neck bulged out at a wrong angle, layers of flesh turning blue and grey. Aunt Petunia's crooked teeth were gone and her tongue was bloodied, peeking out from between her split lips. Both their bodies were crushed into their seats, not thrown into the dashboard, but crushed so hard it appeared as if they were short little gremlins, with twisted spines. But the worst was their eyes. They were wide open, staring at him but not seeing.
How long he sat there, he didn't know. The only thing he could hear was his breathing; so harsh it hurt his throat more than the smoke and ashes that floated in the air. Then suddenly, he remembered his cousin.
"DUDLEY!" his cry was quelled by the fire, and he became angry with himself. How much time had he wasted? His cousin could be dying!
He cursed the car and watched it grind against the walls as it was forced out. He rode on the bonnet, only now feeling the heat from the metal. From the lack of screams, Dudley was either dead or unconscious, but one glance at the backseat told him that it was empty.
The garden was burning under fierce flames. The streetlights all down the street were going out and the nearest houses were pitch black. Harry suddenly recalled Hermione saying something about magic and Muggle technology. Jumping off the car, he turned to face the street, curses and counter curses running through his head.
Pop!
A shadow suddenly leaped over the burning bushes and Harry spun, his wand ready and a curse on his lips – "Avada - "
"Harry!" The hood fallen back, he could now see that the cloaked figure was none other than Remus Lupin. Harry staggered back, unsure - "Lupin?"
"Harry, are you alright?" Lupin shouted, shielding them both from the fire with a simple charm. Harry nodded vaguely, eyes still searching the figure in front of him. He could feel the heat creeping across the earth, blackening the grass and reaching for him.
"Lupin, what's going on?" his voice was hoarse.
"No time to explain, come with me!" He started tugging Harry away from the car, which had become a furnace from which terrible sounds could be heard. Harry refused to think about what might be causing those horrible crisp sounds. He could already smell it in the air…
"Harry!" Lupin quickly caught him as he reeled and threw up. He felt sick to his stomach and weak, vision blurred… the ground was so bright, the yellow between the green… then it all swirled and he found himself enveloped in black.
Blood rushed to his head and he swooned. When he woke again all he could see were… mud-splattered boots? There was blood on the edges… Harry turned his head and saw a group of tall, tall people with dark faces… open mouths – screaming from the sky. He moaned in answer and struggled. Hands grasped him everywhere, his neck felt stretched. Oh, God.
Between the whirling colours… between the red and yellow was green. Beautiful. He'd hoped to see them light again. Those lights, beautiful flowers… so familiar… but they hurt his eyes… tears kept streaming… but it still hurt, he blinked and felt the grit scrape his closed eyes, felt a blast of green through his lids… a sudden wrench…. Then he passed out.
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tbc.
