1/8/06
A/N
This story is dedicated to the author of 'Rise from the Ashes', Karaii because her story gave me the idea somehow even though it's hardly identical to it.
Summary
Harry James Potter is dead. After killing Voldemort and, being drained of life force, died as well. However, being a hero has more pros than Harry thought. Harry is now a ghost able to physically interact with select few. He is sent to a chamber where he must choose his next adventure, and aid those he love that play the major role. Which universe will Harry choose?
Rating
R for language, child abuse and rape.
This is the godlike person speaking
: This is Parsltetongue:
/This is thinking/
Book 1
Chapter 3
The Terrible Lesson
To say Harry was immediately disgusted would be the understatement of the century. One glance around the filth covered 'room' was enough to make anyone with the strongest of stomach's hurl their after noon tea and biscuits.
Blood was spattered, spread and drenched any furniture that was occupying it, on one wall, knives and whips were hung up out of the way of 'business'. Off to the side were several clubs and baseball bats, one was lying on the ground, broken clearly in two with dried blood on the sharp prickly splinters on the end.
Lastly, in the center of the foreboding chamber were the sobbing emanated from, was the small topless form of a child, scars and bruises lacing his back on arms. Just above the child, a fat, walrus like man stood with a violently purple face contorted with rage, holding a Swiss army knife that he seemed to have just snatched from the kitchen in passing in his beefy hand.
"STUFID FWEAK!" he bellowed, slurring drunkenly, "YOU DISN'T DOES EVERYTING ON DE LIST!"
This man was most certainly Vernon Dursley. The way his voice growled like Aunt Marge's bulldog, Ripper, and how he held his drunken self.
He pulled his fat fist back and thrust it back down across the child's bare back. The child sobbed more loudly than before and Harry felt his fury take control. An unbroken bat levitated itself from the ground and flew speedily at Mr. Dursley's head. It missed, instead it slammed down hard on the back of his shoulders, causing him to yowl in pain before swirling around ungracefully and search for his attacker.
When his eyes met Harry's he screamed, "WHO'S YOU? HOW'S DIS YOU GETS MY HOUSE?"
Harry could have sworn Vernon was swelling but pushed that aside knowing that would happen if he dared think about it.
"Don't touch him again," The threat was spoken quietly but the tone told a death sentence that clearly frightened the drunk man into submission.
For a moment, a few seconds later however, he was stampeding at Harry like a massive bull. Not given enough time to react as the room was so small, Harry instinctively pulled his arms up to block his chest and face.
A moment passed.
Another.
CRASH!
"Vernon!"
In shock of what just happened, Harry stood- floated- stock still for several nanoseconds of collecting himself before swiveling around to see Vernon's limp body half way through the wooden door and Petunia trying fruitlessly to push open it to help her 'darling' husband.
The child, who Harry was sure was himself, gave another, quieter sob into the bloody floor. Harry glided to his smaller self and kneeled before him. "Shhh…" He cooed, "It's okay, you'll be fine! I'll help!" Harry did not know how he would help but he would no matter what.
His smaller self whimpered silently and tried to edge closer to Harry. It was such a pathetic motion, Harry felt tears come to his eyes. He had to stop himself from patting the younger on the head comfortingly as he was positive that his hand would just pass through himself.
His other self however, didn't know that and tried to push his banged up hand into his own. Much to Harry's astonishment, he felt the rough skin of the boy's labored hands. They did not pass through to the floor but sat weakly in his palm.
Emotions unleashed, Harry cradled the small hand close to him feeling wary. He had never felt so old and heart broken in his life. Surely this is what Dumbledore felt when he explained to Harry the prophecy after his godfathers untimely death.
Petunia looked up from the door way with hate in her eyes. Those eyes widened significantly when she glanced a misty blue figure next to her nephews mangled body. She felt a chilly presence around the room. Petunia began to shake, terrified. Her freaky sister had described to her family about these…things…when she got back from her first year at that freak school.
"Their amazing mum! Ghosts! They're all mist like, and this pretty powdery blue!
At Hogwarts they sweep around the halls and they actually talk to us!
Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor ghost, told me that he died and decided to stay at Hogwarts
Because he didn't want to go on to the afterlife! Any way, there's this annoying twit, James Potter-"
She and Vernon had bought this house brand new, they were the first owners, how could someone have died here then? A groan brought her attention back to her injured husband. Not knowing what else to do, Petunia skirted down the stairs and to the kitchen, snatching the butcher knife from it's slot in the wooden block, / What happened to my Swiss knife/ And returned to Vernon.
Entering the room, after stepping over her husband, she saw her the ghost and her nephew had gone. This put her at ease and frightened her a bit at the same time. Where were they if not here? She spent the next hour and half cutting away at the door with the butcher knife. By then Vernon was wide-awake and plenty sober.
Downstairs in the cupboard under the stairs, Harry looked over his other self's wounds with gut wrenching sickness. How could some one mutilate a defenseless child like this? It killed him- or would if he wasn't already dead.
"W-who a-are youuuu?" came the smaller of the two's voice, wavering in fear and pain.
"I'm-" Harry didn't know what to say. / The truth of course/ Harry's mind snapped irately. "I'm you- in a sense. Make any sense?" The younger giggled slightly and started to cough up crimson blood.
"Relax," Harry murmured, placing a soft kiss on the others forehead in such a fatherly way it shocked him even. "Breathe evenly, breathe in, out, in, out, there you go," The child was now inhaling normally. "Why does he do this to you, why?" Harry asked aloud, to his surprise the child replied in soft tone.
"He was teaching me a lesson."
A/N
Okay, I know these are short chapters but I'm working on it. Right now my goals are writing chapters that are at least 1000 words long, no less, soon I'll up that to 2000 words and so on.
PLEASE REVIEW!
