Don't Forget Me

By: Panny-Plan

Summary: Just as Harry tells Hermione as he feels about her, his whole world falls apart. Voldemort has risen to the surface again, taking the one thing he will miss most. He, Sirus, and Ron have to search the magical world, for their beloved Hermione. But what has Voldemort done with her? Has he killed her, planning to kill everyone Harry loves? Or is it a trap, to finally get his earned revenge? Harry uncovers secrets and memories that wish to be buried along with the dead...

Rating: R

Chapter One ::Planning to Kill::

A/N: Well, hello all! Yeah, I hope you like this fic. So, uh, I don't own anything in this fic, (well except the plot), everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling. If you plan on sueing me you'll get... 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10...*rambles on counting* 25 cents! Hey, it's more than I thought I had!

*~*~*

Pain is something we all must suffer, but not something we live to suffer from

*~*~*

No, nothing could have prepared anyone for this. The pain was to much for him to bear. The stinging, the voices--they grew louder with every time. Why was this happening now? Of all times?

Harry could see it again, the fire flickering, the wood burning in the heat. Wormtail was pacing around, a chair. A figure was settled in it, but he couldn't see his face.

"Master, how can this be?" Wormtail asked, nervouseness hinted in his voice.

"Wormtail, would you stop worring? It's not like nobody is going to find us here. Sit down, or do I have to remove your arm again?" a voice hissed.

It was a voice...a voice that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. Could it be? No, but, then again, he had risen to power so many times before. What could have made it different from any times now?

"We need to get Potter, Wormtail." The voice hissed again. It was cold. Harry could see the figure standing up, but his face was still shadowed. He was wearing long, dark robes, his face hodded by a cloak. "What will lure him here?"

"I-I'm n-not sure, m-master," Wormtail studdered. He was tembeling violently. "We don't have anything that shows that Potter cares about."

"Black," the voiced hissed. "Sirus Black. Potter surely cares about him, I am sure?"

"Yes, master." Wormtail fiddled his tumbs, then looked up. "Sirus is Harry's godfather."

"Even better. You will capture him--"

"We cannot do that, my lord."

The figure turned to him. "And why can't we do that, hmm?"

Wormtail swallowed the lump in his throat. "Uh, well, you see, we're not sure where he is hiding, and master, he is powerful. I'm not sure you have enough strength to dewl with him, let alone after we find him."

"I had enough energy dewling a fourteen-year-old Potter two years ago, didn't I? Do you remember what happened, two years ago, don't you? YOu remember the pain, Wormtail. Remember the horror I brought. It only last a few hours. If I don't kill Potter, then that is what will be like all the time."

He bowed his head, and looked at the figure. "Yes, sir, but dewling with a fourteen year old boy is different from a fully grown man."

"Yes, you are correct it is. But you are forgetting which boy. Harry Potter." He paused then smiled, his red eyes bearing through the dark hood. "Famous Harry Potter, for defeating You-know-who-to-not-be-named. Wormtail, he is stronger than that pethetic man. YOu don't seem to remember that he almost defeated me."

Wormtail nodded. "Yes master, I do seem to forget."

"Yes you do!" He lifted his cload hood. "And besides, I have another person in mind, that will make him suffer more than Black ever would make him. It would make him die, if I wanted it to." He let out the coldest, most shrilled laughter Harry had ever heared. The hood rested on his shoulders and his face was exposed.

It was indeed, Lord Voldermort.

*~*

Harry sat bolt up, imagening he would wake up in that room, with Wormtail and Voldermort? How could it be? He looked around, to find himself in his large bed, in the second guestroom, at number four, Pivet Drive. The room was dark, except for the stream of moon light that poared in from his window. Dudley's snoring was heard even through his shut door.

Harry rubbed his scar, blinking away tears of pain. It had never hurt this much ever before. Not with Quirrell, not with Tom Riddle, not with Wormtail, not even when Voldemort had risen once before in his fourth year. But Voldemort had stayed quiet his fifth year at Hogwarts, not making any attacks. Trying to rebuild himself, Harry though, half what amused.

He reached to turn on his lamp, clicking the small chain that hung from the light bulb. He crawled out of the sheets, to walked over to his mirror. He saw himself starring back, a sixteen year old boy, turning seventeen the next day, starting his seventh year at Hogwarts in three weeks.

He reached into a beaur drawer, to pull out parchment and an ink bottle. He couldn't go back to sleep, and the pain wasn't going away. It was growing rapidly worse, each second that passed. Harry settled himself back on his bed, and laid the parchment ontop of his book.

Hogwarts: A History.

Hermoine had insisted he read it. She had told him that it would educate him more about Hogwarts, but Harry knew she just wanted somebody to talk to her about it.

He adjusted his glasses on his nose, and began to scribble on the sheet with his messy handwritting.

Dear Sirus,

How are you doing? I haven't heard from you since June. Let me just tell you the point, or the main reason I'm writting to you. My scar is hurting real bad again, worse than all those other times with Voldemort was around. Do you think it means that Voldemort is here? I know he's alive again, but do you think he's here? Please write soon.

Your godson,

Harry

Harry handed Hedwig the letter, once he had it sealed, and watched her flow out the window. Her long white feathers flapped in the warm summer night. He sighed, then turned to the pictures which stood on his nightstand near his lamp.

There was a picture of his parents, which he had since Hagrid had given him that photo album of his parents. This picture was taken the day before they were married. James' messy jet black hair was scattered everywhere, being untamable, like Harry's.

Lily had an arm around James' waist, and they were both smiling and waving. Harry smiled, as he did every time he looked at this picture, and set it back down, gently so he wouldn't hurt the frame. Then there was another picture, of himself, Ron and Hermione. It was taken last year, right before they left. The Hogwarts Express was seen in the background.

Hermione was in the middle, Harry and Ron both had an arm around her shoulders. They were shouting something and grinning, but Harry couldn't remember what was so funny at the time. Then separate pictures. One of Ron, a basic picture, of him wearing Percy's Head Boy badge, imitating his face. It was a priceless picture that he wouldn't dare show to Percy. Of course, he already found out. He found out as soon as Fred had snapped the picture.

The last one of Hermione. Hermione. Why did Harry's pulse heat up when ever he thought of her? Oh yes, he remembered. But he hoped he was over he by now. His sweet sixteen crush. He sighed, placing the picture of Hermione in jeans shorts and a tee-shirt back on his nightstand. He looked at the clock 3:00 a.m. July 31th. Harry sighed.

Happy Birthday me, Harry thought again, just before drifting back into sleep.

*

"Harry!"

Harry shifted, then held the sheets closer to his body. He wasn't cold; it's just that Aunt Petunia's voice was chilled enough to make any man freeze.

"HARRY!"

Harry rolled over, then straining his eyes to see Mrs. Dursley crouching over him, her face flushed red with anger. "Yes, Aunt Petunia?"

"Get these--these--reached animals out of here!" She shrieked.

Harry opened his eyes, and blinked. Fuzzy outlines of two creatures fluttered around in the room. Hedwig was beating against her cage, wanting out. Harry put on his glasses, and saw the small brown owl perched on top of Hedwig's cage. She didn't seem to happy about it.

"Pig!" Harry cried, climbing out of his bed. "And who are you?" he added to the gray owl.

"Get them out!" Aunt Petunia shouted again.

Harry grinned. "Not until I see who they're from. I can't just send them back, now can I? Of course I can't." Harry answered for her before she had a chance to speak. Each owl was carrying a parcel.

Uncle Vernon had let himself into Harry's room by now and gasped. "O-owls! Why so many god damned owls! HARRY!"

Harry decided play time was over and began to untie the parcels from the owls. He knew what Pig was bringing him, and who it was from, but the gray one... he didn't know. He petted the gray's feathers and it hooted. "Come back later, alright?"

He let go of it, and it fluttered out of his window. He rushed over to Pig and did the same. "You too, just follow that guy, alright Pig?"

Pig flew out of the window, and Harry tossed the other parcel onto the bed. Uncle Vernon tapped his foot. "Get rid of the last one."

Harry blinked, then looked over at Hedwig, who was nibbiling on the bars of her cage. She wanted to get out and soar. "That's my owl, Uncle Vernon."

"I don't care! Get rid of it!"

"No," Harry said, but a grin was forming on his lips. "I paid for her, and I'm not going to get rid of her."

"How did you pay for her? You don't have money. I thought your school paid for your books, but not your own goodies." Aunt Petunia stared at him, icily.

"My mum and dad left me a fortune, but I've already told you this," Harry told them. "And if you don't mind, I'd like to open these presents and go back to be--"

Dudley stared at the pictures of Hermoine. "Ohhh! Pretty girl!"

Harry snapped his head at him, then his face turned from sarcasm, to anger. "Hey, stay away from those! don't touch them!"

Too late. Dudley had picked up the picture of all three of them, and was smiling into it. Aunt Petunia had peered into it as well, and smiled. "Harry does know a pretty little girl," she smiled. "And is planning to introduce her to Dudley, isn't that right, my little pooh-bear?" She flattened Dudley's thin blonde hair to his round fat head.

"No, I don't plan on introducing them to you, let alone, I don't believe they'd want to meet you." Harry snapped.

"I don't want to meet him," Dudley pointed to Ron. "I want to meet her." Harry's stomach tied into a knot when Dudley talked about Hermione that way. "What's her name?"

Harry flet like punching Dudley in the nose, and making his nose bleed. He didn't need magic to kill Dudley. He'd do it with his own bare hands. "I'm not going to tell you. Even so, they both live far away, and won't go out of their way to visit you."

"But for a friend like you, I believe they would. What's the childs name?" Aunt Petunia asked, still looking at Hermione.

"LIke I said before, I'm not telling you."

"Then, I will take these pictures of her. They will look wonderful in my room, don't you think so mum?" Dudley asked her.

"Oh yes, sweetie, they will."

"NO!"

Dudley turned to face Harry, holding both pictures of Hermione in his grasp. "Yes?"

"You can't have them. They're mine. You don't know who she is. She's my best friend."

"Tell me her name then." (A/N: God, why is Dudley acting so much like an ass? I guess he's always taht way.)

"It's--" Harry wanted those pictures back, even if it ment that Dudley knew her name. "It's," he started again, but he was studdering. He barely ever studdered. His heart began to beat fast again, and the rythm of it beating against his ribs. "Hermione," he whispered.

"Hermoine," Dudley repeated, peering into the pictures. "You're going to look great on my nightstand instead of his. Come on."

Harry lunged for Dudley. Uncle Vernon blocked him as his budgy son walked out of the room. "Dudley!" Harry roared, over Aunt Petunia's shreiks. Harry was struggling against Uncle Vernon, and was almost free of his grip, when Uncle Vernon grabbed him by the collar of his pajamas.

"If you know what's good for you, then you will stay in here until you are invited out, boy," he warned. Harry kicked his shins, and sat on the bed. Uncle Vernon lunged for the two parcles, but Harry grabbed them before he could.

"I'm not afraid to hex you, you know." He warned.

THey left, finally, so Harry could see what he got for his birthday. Some birthday he was having, but hopefully it would get better. He looked at the nightstand, and it only had Ron's picture, trying to be Percy. He sighed, and opened Pig's parcel first.

It was from Ron. There was a letter outside of the string, and Harry took it. He unfloded the parchment, and smiled. He was happy to see Ron's messy handwritting.

Dear Harry,

Happy birthday, chap! You don't like being called 'chap' I don't really care. Any way, how is your summer? Wait, I know I shouldn't have asked that. Now when you write me a thank you note, your going to pour your heart and sould about how horrible it is to live with those muggles of yours. But hey, look at the bright side, after a few weeks, next time you see them, you'll be able to hex them! Isn't that great? I think we should move in together. (Woah, Harry, not that way. I don't like you THAT much!)

But maybe, I dunno. All I know is that I'm sick of living here! I love mum to death, and same with dad, but it's everyone else I can't stand. Fred and George are practically living here all summer, Ginny has a friend over every day, which is just like her! Everytime I walk into the same room as the, they giggle and run upstairs! I mean, come on? Are they like thirteen? They're sixteen! It's about time they act like it!

Heard from Herm latley? She's over here now, and you don't know how much she's changed over the summer Harry! Her hair is, well, bushier, but she's not like that little pudgy girl we knew last year! i'd hate to say this, but she's really hot! But I love her as a sister, and so do you, and you know that. But shees! Fred and George tried to take her picture while she was in the shower! That's just wrong!

I know, I'm just talking about me, me and me, but hey, I'm writing this, right? Yeah, last time I checked. SO how was your birthday so far? What'd you get? Or am I the first person? Eh, I let you go, so you can see what I gave you. Write ASAP.

From,

Ron

P.S. Do tell if you'd like to come over and spend the rest of the summer with us. Herm is anxious to see you too! And god, is Ginny. I'm ordering you to come here to make her SHUT UP!

Harry folded the letter back up, and picked up the package. It was light, and didn't move around much. He wripped the brown paper, and looked at it.

It was a foe glass. Harry gasped at him. "Ron, how'd you afford this?" There was a note inside, explaining it.

I know how much you want to be and Auror, so here you go. I think Moody had one of these, right? If your wondering how I afforded this, well, let's just say Fred and Gerorge had a few hundred galleons to share.

-Ron

Harry examined the foe glass. It showed Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley all crowded around the table, eating their breakfast crammed with lard.

He set the glass aside, to look at the other package he recived. He picked up the parcel, and slid the letter from between the strings.

It was from Hermoine. Hermoine. Why was his heart beating faster again?

Dear Harry,

Well, hello there! I haven't heard from you in a while! Happy Birthday, Harry! Ugh, my seventeenth birthday isn't until October. Wouldn't you know I'd be the youngest in our grade? Well, please, I hope you enjoy your gift! Have you heard from Sirus latley? If so, how's he doing? Mrs. Weasly wants you to join us at the Burrow so much, Harry. Just to warn you; I think little Ginny still has a crush on you!

Here's a picture in there, of me, Ron, you, Fred and George. I think Mr. Weasly took it two summers ago. I though you'd like a copy. Write Ron or me back ASAP, to let us know if your aunt and uncle will let your come over and spend the rest of the summer with us.

You'll never guess what! Fred and George opened a joke shop! In Hogsmade! We'll have to go sometimes, alright Harry? It'll be just like the good times! I've got to go, but I'll see you at the Burrow, and if not there, Kings Crossing!

With Love,

Hermione

Harry was so lost in her words, he didn't relize that three other owls were now circling the room. A brown barn owl, which he knew was the schools, a black owl, and a white owl. He didn't know the last to.

The black one parched himself on Harry's desk, after droping another parcel on his bed. The white followed, but perched itself on the broken television set. The barn owl dropped the letter in Harry's lap, then flew back out the window.

The largest parcel was from Hagrid, Harry could smell the sweetness of the sugar comming from it. The other, was most likely from Sirus, since scribbled in Sirus's poor handwritting.

He returned to Hermione's gift, and started to tear the paper. He smiled when he saw a book. So much like Hermione. He looked closer at the title.

Beating the Bludgers -- A Study of Defensive Strategies in Quidditch.

The book was heavy, but it seemed like a book Harry could use. Infact, the only one that ever seemed useful, were his books about Quidditch. He flipped through the pages and found a note sticking out.

I knew you'd like it! Good referance to our futre Gryffindor captin, eh Harry?

-Hermione

"Yes, I do like it Hermione. Thank you." Harry told her, and continued to flip through it's pages. "'Scott land was the birthplace of what is probably most dangeourse of all broom games -- Creaothceann.' Creaothceann? What's that?"

Harry fumbled through some more pages of the book, then set it down. He sighed. "HARRY!"

Not Aunt Petunia again. Oh well, Harry thought. The silence was great while it lasted.

*****

A/N: Alright, that's the first chapter. What did you think? really, be honest, do you think this story is going to be good? Yeah, there was alot of letters in this chapter. If you all don't know what Ron is talking about by 'a few hundred galleons' then read the forth book. At the end, yall should know what I'm talking about. if you still don't and read the forth book, then e-mail me.

R/R please!

P.S. If any one knows how to make the HTML tags work, please e-mail me ASAP! Thanks!