So here is the next chapter….sorry for the cliffhanger before (actually no I'm not).
I don't own any of the Harry Potter world that all goes to JK Rowling.
Harry didn't know what to do. For once, his mind was just blank, panicking, with no plan whatsoever.
"Me?" Harry said desperately, in a final attempt to save himself. Snape's face was triumphant- vindictive, and Harry knew it was obvious that his poor disguise did nothing to shield his true identity if one looked as closely at his face as Snape was. "What...what do you mean? Harry Potter? Where?"
Snape's thin lips curled up into what might have resembled a smile, had it not looked so predatorial. "And this is when one can see why you would never have been a Slytherin, Potter."
Harry tried to wiggle out of Snape's grasp, who was currently holding him up by his shirt. He fumbled for his wand furtively in his back pocket, and clutched it. He then brought it closer to Snape's stomach, holding it loosely by his side- the man having not noticed yet what Harry was doing. Snape was still speaking, his dark eyes still fixated on Harry. Harry squirmed nervously as the man's hooked nose came closer.
"I wonder what all your little fans must think of you know, Potter." Snape's face loomed closer. " Glorious Saint Potter, dark wizard. How can one describe the disappointment your mother must feel, knowing that she gave her life for yours- only so that you could grow up and become the next dark lord-"
Harry grit his teeth, knowing that saying anything would only speed the man up into turning him in into the authorities. He's just trying to get a rise out of me. Harry thought furiously, as Snape's eyes glitter. A rise. And nothing else.
Snape continued. "Of course, however, it's not a surprise, considering who your father is." He gripped Harry's wrist, and Harry squirmed as the grip got tighter. "Don't try to escape, Potter. Otherwise I might be inclined to...snap this wrist." Snape whispered. Harry gulped. He didn't know any healing spells and a broken wrist would be disastrous when trying to escape on a broom.
The grip on his wrist, by this point was unbearable. Harry was sure that Snape was going to break his wrist, so he brought his wand closer and closer to Snape's face- and then-
BANG!
There was a lot of smoke, and Harry's ears were ringing. The smoke cleared, and he could hear screams around him, and looked up to see that the sign of the shop above him was wobbling dangerously. Harry cursed, and scampered out of the way. He couldn't see Snape- but Harry didn't care. He got up, and looked around him. Diagon Alley was in chaos; he could escape through the crowd. He fingered his wrist, and winced when he realised it was sprained.
Suddenly, Harry was blown to one side, against the side of a wall. He hit his head, and his vision swam. Harry retched violently, and groaned as Snape came into view. There was a large bump in the middle of his forehead, and he looked absolutely livid. Harry whipped out his wand with his non-sprained wrist, and cast the protego charm- just in time for Snape's rather nasty looking yellow curse to bounce off it.
Harry got up and stumbled. He ducked as Snape threw another spell at him, which Harry again didn't recognize. Harry knew he didn't have much time, and that he didn't really stand a chance against Snape either.
Harry retaliated at Snape with a jelly legs jinx, followed quickly by an Expelliarmus. Snape ducked the jelly legs jinx, and used a spell to turn the expelliarmus back and Harry.
"Protego!" Harry yelled, and then "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The spell caught Snape by surprise, and he began to rise. Cursing, Snape struggled, but Harry carried on lifting Snape, before violently jerking his wand upwards. Snape hit the top of the balcony of the building they were by, and Harry dropped the spell. Snape fell like a rock, and stumbled to his knees. When he raised his head, Harry knew he was about to fight for his life.
"Well Potter...it seems that what you lack in intelligence, you make up for in magical power." Snape's lip curled, and he got to his feet. "Unfortunately for you, however, you only have second year knowledge in spells, and you are fighting against a former Death Eater." He smirked, and leapt into action, his eyes gleaming with an odd kind of satisfaction.
Harry shivered, and immediately put up a protego. Snape's spell slammed into the shield a second later.
Harry fought.
He was mostly on defensive, shielding, and running behind the debris that Snape was creating. He was weakened, and didn't notice when Snape's bright blue curse hit him in the shoulder, sending him into a stumble. He noticed an odd tingling sensation in his shoulder, and looked down to see the skin turn blue. There was an odd squeezing sensation. Harry cursed violently as he felt his shoulder crack. He yelled out hoarsely, and his eyes watered. Obviously a nasty ice freezing curse. Harry tested his shoulder. It was definitely broken, cracked, it seemed when encased in ice. Luckily, Harry was using his right hand, and he carried on fighting, losing energy. He managed to land a jelly legs jinx on Snape, but not for long. Harry used another stunner against the man, and sighed as Snape was thrown back into a wall. He used the time to regroup, and gritted his teeth as he attempted to roll his shoulder.
Harry was aware that the most of Diagon Alley was still in chaos, but time was running out. Glancing round desperately, Harry shot the most destructive spell he knew; Bombarda Maxima. He didn't aim for Snape, and instead hit the wall behind him. The wall blew up, and Harry couldn't help but smile at the incredulous look Snape shot him before he was knocked out by a piece of flying debris. Not as dunderheaded as you think, huh Snape? Harry thought vindictively. A vicious smile curled on Harry's lips, and he was almost surprised at how fiercely happy he was; that Snape was hurt, and he, Harry had been the cause.
Harry ran helter skelter through the streets, not stopping as he slammed into people. There was screaming, and Harry realised that it had not just been him and Snape fighting. Aurors had arrived on the scene and were trying to break up a fight between two men, who obviously had been spurred on by the chaos. There were numerous other battles going on around him, and Harry couldn't help but shiver as he heard a scream tear from a woman's throat as she was hit by a lime green curse in the middle of the street.
Harry managed to slip out of Diagon unnoticed, and ran through the Leaky Cauldron. He got on his broom as fast as he could, and soon he was miles away from London. It was only then that Harry allowed himself to relax slightly. He touched down in a small town, and nipped in quickly to a supermarket shop. He practically threw the money on the counter and ran out of the shop again, shivering. He pulled on an extra jumper (The large H standing out, a present from Mrs. Weasley last year), and lept into the skies again with his broom. The wind rushed into Harry's face, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. Harry gave a small whoop, and looped through the skies, a smile on his face. He'd escaped!
Harry flew for about another half an hour, until he saw a small wooded area, just outside of a farm. He landed, and quickly pulled out the Weasley's tent. He constructed it quickly, wincing as the wounds from the fight hindered him slightly. Soon the tent was sloppily erected, and Harry entered the tent and began his master plan.
Slipping out a small kitchen knife he'd bought earlier, Harry took a deep breath and cut the palm of his hand open- deeply. He winced, but didn't cry. Harry was used to pain, his time at the Dursley's making sure of that.
Blood welled up from the wound, and Harry smeared the blood in haphazard movements across the oak table that sat in the center of the tent. He then kicked a few chairs down, and took out his wand. He winced as more blood dripped from his hand onto the floor.
"BOMBARDA!" Harry yelled, and the oak table blasted apart. Harry felt slightly guilty- as this was the Weasley's tent, but he resolved that he would buy them a new one….one day. Harry quickly wrapped a bandage he'd bought at the shop earlier around his hand- the sprained, cut one, and then on further reflection also wrapped his shoulder as well, wincing again. He would find a way to heal his shoulder, but for now he'd have to be one handed.
Harry glanced at the now haphazardous tent. His plan was that he wanted to create a scene slightly reminiscent of all the crime scenes he would occasionally glimpse Uncle Vernon looking at on the television. Hopefully, then the Aurors would be led off his trail, maybe even thinking that Harry had been hurt by someone else. Blood was smeared on the chips of wood, and the tent had rips in it. Feeling satisfied, Harry ran out of the tent, and soon was in the skies again, but close enough to hear the pops that signified apparition. Harry's eyes widened, and he urged his broom further into the clouds, praying that no one had seen him.
Once he was a good distance away from the Weasley's tent, Harry let out a sigh of relief, and then winced as the pain from his shoulder fully set in. He'd been on such an adrenaline rush, that his broken shoulder hadn't bothered him as much as it did now. Harry's arms shook with the strain of trying to steer the broom in the clouds, so with a sigh, Harry lowered himself until he was nearly flat on the broom, let the broken shoulder and cut hand arm lie limply in the sky, hanging downwards, and gripped the broom with his good hand. He shot through the clouds, as he urged the broom on.
He'd had plenty of practice as a seeker to fly with one hand, but tonight was particularly hard. He was up higher in the clouds, and it was windy. A dull ache had set into Harry's shoulder, and the strain of the day was setting into his body. Duelling like he had in Diagon Alley was going to take it's toll on his body, Harry realised.
Harry dearly wanted to go to sleep. Eat, and then sleep, was on the front and foremost of Harry's mind. In fact, he was so caught up in his longing for those two things, that he barely noticed when a loud HOOT! sounded from the other side of him. Harry wobbled on his broom, cursing.
"Hedwig you scared me!" Harry chuckled. His broom slowed down, and he hovered in the sky. Tightening his legs around the broom securely, Harry reached out with his non broken shoulder, no hands on his broom. Hedwig settled on his arm, and then slowly made her way up to his shoulder.
"Yeah, just remember- this shoulder not the other one." Harry chuckled. "Where have you been girl? I told you to come find me after I exited Diagon Alley!" He stroked her feathers. "Ok, well I can see your tired. Just stay on my shoulder, ok girl?"
Harry shook his head as Hedwig nipped his ear affectionately, and then set off again, but slower.
After a certain point, however, his arm hurt so much, that Harry decided he'd was a good distance away from the place where he'd put the Weasley's tent, and that the Auror's wouldn't find him. Harry gently dove through the clouds, his arm protesting as he gripped the broom loosely, to avoid falling off the broom. When he touched down on the grass, Harry got to his legs, and then promptly collapsed.
His head hit the soft grass with a thump, and Harry had to blink once or twice to get rid of the swimming sensation in his head. Slowly, he got to his feet, and yawned, rubbing his head.
"Dunno what that was." Harry mumbled to himself. Once again, he found himself in a large forest, and so Harry went out of his way to find a clearing that had no man made paths leading to it. After 15 minutes of stumbling around in the dark, Harry reached a small clearing in the forest, which was illuminated by the glow of the moon. He then set up the tent at a leisurely pace.
Harry had to grin when he got inside the tent. It was pretty amazing, what magic could do. There was a small owl perch in the corner of the room, and Hedwig immediately flew to that. Harry unpacked his trunk, putting all of the food away, and hanging up his clothing in the small wardrobe. The great thing about tents was that Harry could put all of his stuff away, and even when he collapsed the tent, Harry would still find his stuff exactly where he put in when he would set the tent up again.
Harry quickly looked around the tent again, sighing slightly when he saw the extra bunk beds. He dearly wished that his former best friends were here- that they hadn't… Harry shook his head. He still couldn't get his head around the fact that Ron and Hermione had...betrayed him? It was...so unexpected and….Harry walked out of the room, and into the small games room that had a wizarding wireless. Harry turned it on, and listened to some songs, before turning it off again. No doubt if he turned it to the right channel, he would be able to hear some news about his predicament.
Harry made himself a sandwhich, and ate quickly. He then took a quick dip in the small bath that was in the only bathroom of the entire tent (Harry wondered where all of his waste went….He told himself he would find out the next day) and then, with a sigh, went to bed.
Before he went to sleep however, Harry took a quick look at the Daily Prophet- hoping to see some good news…. But what he saw made the victory of today's fight fade from his mind. There, in black, bold letters, was an article that would be forever burned in Harry's mind.
Harry Potter called disgrace by Albus Dumbledore himself!
Sources have reported that the atmosphere in Hogwarts has been tumultuous. Though the school term has not started yet, the teachers have already arrived, to plan the school curriculum. However, it is not just the lessons that the teachers are discussing, once source says reportedly. One of the main topics of discussions in the staff lounge is Harry Potter.
"There's two sides in this debate." Our source says. "The side that believes that Potter is innocent. This side consists of around five people. Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper, Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff, Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter's own head of house, the newest Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin, Professor Vector, the teacher for Arithmancy. The rest of the teachers will argue against them during lunch breaks. I must say, it provides for good entertainment. Sometimes I would step in, offer my own opinion. I must say, I would fight with the 'pro Potter' group...until the other day."
One teacher noticeably absent in the "Pro Potter side" is the Headmaster himself, who was a sort of mentor to Harry Potter, according to our source.
"Oh yes. Albus usually stays out of these discussions. I remember the Minerva looked quite shocked when he didn't defend his former student." The source recalls. "At first I thought the reason he didn't take sides was because he didn't want to cause strife among his teachers. But the other day, my whole view of this was changed."
According to the source, there was a very heated debate going on in the staff lounge about whether or not Harry Potter deserved Azkaban. It was then that the Headmaster stepped in.
"He said that he had had enough of this endless debating over, and I quote 'a worthless Dark Fugitive'. I was really flabbergasted then, because I had seen how the Headmaster had looked after the boy after all these years. Later on, I heard Dumbledore talking to his Deputy Headmistress- well you know, Minerva. He said that Harry Potter was dark, and therefore a disgrace. It was a bit harsh, I must say. I never thought that Dumbledore of all people would denounce Potter. But he did, and...well I was always unsure, but this decided my opinion. If the leader of the light tells us that Harry Potter is dark, especially if said leader was close to the boy, well, then Harry Potter is dangerous, and should go to Azkaban in my opinion."
What does this mean for Harry Potter? And more importantly, how will he react to his former mentor condemning him?
Written by: Francis Archibald.
Harry closed the newspaper, a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. This article truly derailed any set plans Harry had. He had nowhere to go, no plan to follow. Would he live the rest of his days out here in this tent? If Professor Dumbledore thought Harry, of all people, Harry was dark- well, then who would even consider helping Harry?
Harry felt numb, barely even noticing the fact that he had torn the newspaper in half during his mental tirade. Should he just turn himself in? Harry was without any plan, without any purpose. He decided to think about what to do tomorrow. Perhaps he would see everything in a different light.
He doesn't see the small article on the next page proclaiming, "Sirius Black and Harry Potter, in league with each other?"
And with that, Harry closed his eyes and entered the dream world.
Harry
Harry
Harry
Harry
His name is written on the wall two hundred times. Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry. A madman laughs. Screams echo- Harry sobs desperately.
Harry
Harry
Harry
Harry
The book of dark spells rifles and opens to the spell. Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry grasps his wands and speaks the words, his eyes ablaze with fury.
Harry
Harry
Harry
Harry
It's heartbroken sobbing that wakes him from his spell. Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry.
"I'm sorry!"
Harry woke from his dream with a start. He was covered in sweat, Harry realised, and his sheets were tangled around him. With a sigh, Harry rearranged the blankets around himself, comfortably, but then changed his mind and leapt out of bed. He padded over to the kitchen, and made himself a glass of warm milk, using the heated stove and pan.
Harry grabbed a plastic mug he'd picked up earlier in the muggle store, and mentally reminded himself to buy some proper cutlery and dishes. At the moment, all he had was plastic paper dishes, plastic cutlery, and a few amenities that the tent provided, such as cooking equipment.
Sighing deeply, Harry sat down at the long table that was the 'dining' hall- inside of the kitchen, of the tent. He was at the head, and eleven seats stretched out before him. Harry placed his head in his palms, staring at the dark table, and the dimly lit room.
He was alone. All alone.
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