Disclaimer:I do not own Harry Potter or its subsequent universe. All recognisable characters, settings and plots belong to J. K. Rowling.
Acknowledgements: Thank you to my team of Betas and Editors: AJAVENGER01, JT, Ares Alexander Peverell, Avidnarutofa and Tendrael Umbra
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Harry Potter and the Trials of Twilight
BY: ArtyWords
Book 1: The Premature Arrival
Chapter 1: If You'll Have Me?
June 26 1990
No. 4 Privet Drive
Early Morning
It was dark outside, as dark as it had been the previous night. The storm was still raging, the light of the shining stars and glowing moon hidden by thick thunderclouds. It was dark outside, but darker in his head.
'...Lily run...'
Crack! Rumble! Another bolt of lightning raced through the clouds chased by the thunder,
'...Last words, James...'
The heavy raindrops continued to pound down onto the roofs of the houses within the storm's embrace.
'...Your mother's son...'
The windows rattled violently in their frames as the winds battered them relentlessly.
'...She would be proud...'
The sound of various street lamps short-circuiting was swallowed up in the cacophony of other noises within the storm.
'... I love you ...'
The sound of thunder crashed more frequently as lightning bounced from cloud to cloud, lighting up the dark clouds with a harsh white glow.
'...Avada Ked-'
He shot up in his bed, his chest heaving erratically, his sweat-soaked hair matted across his forehead. The pupils of his vivid green eyes were pinpricks as they frantically moved about the small dark space searching for nothing. After a moment, he curled his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth as he grasped his hair. Slowly, he closed his eyes, drifting back to sleep.
6:51 am
It was dark when he woke up, just as it had been the last few times he had woken up. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he'd locked in here. Vernon had cornered him the moment they got home, taking sadistic pleasure in beating him. That had been a couple of days ago, or maybe even a week. He had done all sorts of miraculous things, things the Dursleys preferred to call 'freaky things'. Each one was marked by an exceptional brutal beating, even by Vernon standards.
One was a few years back when he had been running from Dudley's gang, desperate to get somewhere safe. It had been an unpleasant experience. One moment he was running around a corner and the next he felt like he was being squeezed through a small tube. When that painful feeling stopped, he was sitting in his cupboard. Others had been less spectacular but no less miraculous, like the time he regrew his hair overnight after the purposefully bad haircut Petunia gave him the night before school started a few years back.
But it was the beating that Vernon had given him on Dudley's birthday, that was the worst one. It all started at the zoo. They had been in the herpetarium; a mistake on his part, he should have known it would go wrong. He had been in one of the more secluded corners of the building, unaware that there was an enclosure behind him until he heard a voice. He had been having an illuminating conversation with the snake when Piers, Dudley's best friend, interrupted them.
It was the drama that followed afterwards that had set Vernon off. When they had arrived home, Vernon had cornered him, shoving him towards the empty fireplace. It was a pretty foggy memory; he remembered the stings of a belt meeting his flesh, they were soon replaced with heavy punches and kicks. Vernon hadn't stopped even when it was clear he was unable to defend himself on the edge of consciousness. The last clear memory was the sight of Petunia and Dudley struggling to pull a livid Vernon away from him and then nothing as he blacked out.
Harry flinched backwards as the cupboard door was thrown open flooding the tiny dark space with light. Squinting in the light he missed the grimace that marred her face for a brief moment, her eyes filled with regret and guilt as she looked down at him. When he could make out her expression without having to squint, he was met by the imperious scowl she usually wore on her face. She sniffed, looking down her nose at him. She left without saying a word.
He stepped out into the hall, wincing at the unhealthy number of cracks and pops his body made as he stretched out. It didn't help that he was still covered in sensitive bruises. It was slow progress as he made his way to the bathroom, his battered body protesting every step of the way.
He sighed in relief as the hot water from the shower relieved the tension from his body. The water was tainted red from all the dried blood it washed off him. A short while later, he was in front of the mirror shirtless.
'At least three days.' he thought to himself as he observed the myriad of swollen dark purple almost black spots covering his body. They were everywhere across his torso, his legs, his arms, even his face.
To better concentrate, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was released sharply when he felt a strong tingle rush through his body, one that caused him to involuntarily shiver. The tingling sensation was replaced by a gentle numbing feeling, before that too faded away. He opened his eyes once again. Gone were the dark purple-black spots and in their place were puffy yellowish-brown ones.
It was a useful trick, one the Dursleys' had forced him to discover. It was one he used quite regularly despite its origins. After all, it was easier to survive in this household if he wasn't inhibited by his body being in constant pain.
He towelled his hair dry. It was a mess but years of practice and experience meant it barely took a thought to make it lie down flat and neat. He slipped a shirt over his head sighing dejectedly at the empty green eyes in the mirror.
'Maybe today will be different.'
He thought but he didn't believe it. It had been years since he believed those words. The hope for better days his eyes once contained was now missing. Resigning himself to another day, he schooled his features, the broken look replaced with the aloof one.
7:59 am
He gazed off into the distance from his place by the kitchen door. Normal. He wasn't really sure what that term meant, but from his observation of others, the Dursleys weren't it. It was ironic given how much pride they had when boasting about how they were just that. He was certain they weren't. Normal people didn't derive as much pleasure as they did when they forced him to spend breakfast watching them gorge on the food they forced him to cook.
He heard the mail fall through the flap in the front door. He was already gone from the kitchen before Vernon had a chance to grunt in his general direction to retrieve the mail. Bending down to pick up the mail he bit his lower lip, suppressing a groan. Despite how much healthier he looked, it was superficial. His body, no matter how much he pretended, was in a lot of pain.
A quick shuffle through the pile revealed nothing of interest at first glance. Though as he made his way back into the kitchen, he bumped into Dudley dropping the letters by accident, They both watched as they scattered all over the floor. Harry couldn't stop a small smile from forming on his face when their eyes met.
He felt as if the world fell out from underneath him.
Fear.
He was surrounded by a massive snake with dozens of smaller ones hissing in the background.
Helplessness.
They begin to slither towards him, venom dripping from each fang.
Relief.
When they heeded his cries to leave him alone.
Horror.
As he realised it wasn't him they had listened to.
Then, as suddenly as it had happened, he was back in the hallway.
"Are you okay Dudley?" he asked. "You're looking a bit peaky."
He put a hand on the older boy's shoulder plastering a mask of concern on his face all the while secretly enjoying the way the bigger boy flinched away from him.
"Yeah Harry, I'm o-okay."
The boy barely managed to gasp the words out. He seemed extremely unnerved by their proximity. He was quick to make his escape as soon as Harry had removed his hand.
As bent down collecting the fallen letters, he noticed one that he hadn't the first time. It was nondescript, only standing out because of the address it bore.
Harry Potter
No. 4 Privet Drive,
Little Whinging, Surrey,
Other than that, it was as normal as the rest of the mail. Not wanting to risk Vernon's ire, especially not while he was still recuperating, he slipped the letter into the pocket of the oversized hoodie that had once belonged to Dudley. He quickly handed the rest over to the whale waddling out of the dining room. Petunia was already gone meaning it was just him, the dining table full of leftovers...
Growl!
And his stomach. Unwilling to let the opportunity pass him by, he spent the next half hour or so clearing the table of leftovers until he was full after which he took the dishes to the sink for washing.
It was a few hours later, just over an hour to noon, Harry found himself back in his cupboard. He was seated on the tattered old cot he was forced to call a bed. Luckily he had managed to acquire a lightbulb so he was able to read his letter, the first letter he could remember receiving.
That in itself was something Harry had a great deal of pride in. His ability to remember and recall things, He took great pride in his memory. He ranked it up there right next to his ability to tell if someone was lying to him.
It was why he usually ignored most of the things Petunia spewed about his mother — they tended to be lies. And Vernon, the less that said about him, the better. If it was even possible the man seemed to hate Harry's father more than Harry himself.
It was those two abilities that had him in deep thought. As far as he could remember, she had rarely lied to him. He couldn't fathom a reason why she would start now, in this letter of all things. Accepting the facts laid bare was easier than it should have been. Even if the snake at the zoo hadn't told him, something inside of him just seemed to resonate with every sentence he'd read.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The thunderous sound of the knocks echoed throughout the house.
"Boy! Get the door." Vernon barked.
He had lived with the man long enough to know he was annoyed by whoever dared to interrupt his TV time. Slipping the letter into his pocket, he left his cupboard to open the door. Dudley, who had been coming down the stairs, stumbled as he caught sight of the visitor at the door, causing him to fall to the floor with a resounding smack! Harry himself stood in shock at what greeted him when he opened the door.
Without waiting to be invited in, the man(?) ducked low and twisted slightly as he shuffled through the door. At over twice as tall and three times as wide as the average man, he blocked the hallway.
"Dudley!" Vernon growled, his face turning purple. "What are you doing on the floor, get u..."
His voice trailed off as he walked into the hallway and the blood drained from his face saw the man standing in his home. Petunia's eyes widened in fear and recognition before she started mumbling frantically under her breath while pulling at her hair.
"No no no NO! What are you doing here? We still have one more year! It's too soon! He promised us!"
Harry found it odd. The giant man didn't look like somebody Petunia would know. From the little that could be seen of the giant's(?) Face. Most of it was hidden behind a tangled mane of hair and a wild beard. The only thing about his face that was clearly visible were his eyes glinting like black beetles in the light. Most of his body was hidden underneath a large, filthy patchwork coat that stopped a few inches from his leather-like boots. He was the kind of person Petunia avoided like a plague.
"'Arry, where is he?" he asked.
An oppressive silence blanketed the room as none of the Dursleys attempted to answer. The silence was broken the moment the giant looked down and saw him.
"Blimey, 'Arry how ye've grown in the last few years the last time I saw ya, I could fit ya in the palm of me hand." His deep and jovial tone broke the tension and despite his imposing stature, he seemed to give off the aura of a lovable idiot.
Harry blinked bemusedly at the giant, unsure of what to make of him. Especially since he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that they had met before.
"Hello, Mister. Not to be rude, but… who are you?" His guarded tone did nothing to deter the man's excitement.
The man chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I'm a right sight aren't I?" He offered a massive hand which Harry shook it or at least tried to. "My name's Rubeus Hagrid, I'm the Keeper of keys and grounds at 'ogwarts."
"Mister Hagrid?" He murmured repeatedly and tried to see if the name would ring a bell.
The only thing that came up were the odd dreams of flying motorcycles and giant men. He preferred to call them nightmares, since they always end with him outside Number Four Privet Drive. They had always felt too real to be such, but if Mister Hagrid was to be believed then it was a memory instead.
Unaware of Harry's musings, Mister Hagrid forged on.
"Nonsense! You can call me 'agrid just like everyone else at 'ogwarts." The man offered practically beaming at him. "You know all about 'ogwarts don't ya?"
"Hogwarts?" he shook his head. "Never heard of it?"
Hagrid blinked, seemingly confused that Harry did not know about Hogwarts.
"And Magic?" he asked slowly.
His face was blank as he internally debated about telling Hagrid about the letter he had received. Hagrid seemed to have taken his silence as a no. He turned to the Dursleys, his voice was far louder and more impressive than Vernon's could ever be.
"Do you mean to tell me," he growled out his framing shaking with poorly restrained anger. "That you have told him NOTHING! NOTHING AT ALL!" he bellowed, finally giving in to a bit of his fury.
Vernon, who would have shouted back at anybody else, had shrunk back against the wall, cowering in fear as he held Petunia and Dudley behind him. As Hagrid's massive hands waved about emphatically behind his back, Harry quickly backed away from the wailing hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the flashes of Vernon beating him, ones invoked by the confrontation in front of him. He opened them the moment it was quiet, quickly schooling his face hiding his turmoil. Having vented at the Dursleys, Hagrid turned around to face Harry. Harry was rather proud that he didn't flinch or shy away from Hagrid as they stared at each other.
Hagrid quickly gestured for Harry to follow him as he made his way out of the house. Hagrid fidgeted with the hem of his patchwork coat as they walked along the pavement.
"If they haven't told ya 'bout magic, what do ya know about what happened yer family?"
Harry didn't need to look at the man to feel his dread.
"Petunia says that they are dead. That's all she ever has to say about them." He replied tightly. "Oh, and that they were freaks just like me."
He refused to look at Hagrid, too busy pretending that those words did not affect him.
"Hagrid, I thought I made it very clear you were to wait for me so that we could come to see Mister Potter together."
The woman who greeted them was rather tall, around six feet if he was guessing correctly. She was dressed in a simple grey pantsuit a few shades darker than her slate-grey eyes. Her strict face was framed by flowing brown hair that brushed the tops of her shoulders.
"Hello, Mister Potter, I'm Professor Olivia Twist, a teacher at Hogwarts. It's nice to meet you." She extended her hand.
"Nice to meet you too." He shook her hand, though wincing at the odd pressure on his mind when their eyes met, missing the way her own widened the barest of fractions as he looked away.
"This is yours," she handed him an envelope that looked like it was made of parchment. He had spent enough time in museums to recognize it. This one too had his address on it though in vivid green ink instead of the plain black the other one had.
Mr H. Potter
Cupboard under the stairs,
No. 4 Privet Drive
Little Whining, Surrey.
Though he hid it well, it was extremely unnerving that someone knew where he slept. It was infuriating that someone knew and had also done nothing about it. He flipped it over, breaking the purple wax seal on the back. Removing its contents, he started with the letter on top.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
'At least I have confirmation she was telling me the truth.' The letter from earlier briefly appeared in his thoughts. He looked at the second letter.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.
COURSEBOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic
by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory
by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration
by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions
by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK
Yours sincerely,
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions
He put the letters in the envelope and slipped them into his pocket with his earlier letter. He looked up at the two adults. Professor Twist's face was as passive as his own but it was clear that it took her way less effort to achieve the same result. The anticipation on Hagrid's face was clear for anyone to see.
"So, what yer have to say 'bout it."
It was an odd sight to see such a physically imposing figure bounce childishly on his feet.
"Yer a wizard Harry!" he exclaimed, unable to keep the truth to himself any longer.
Harry stared at him for a moment.
"I know."
In Diagon Alley,
Elevenses
It had taken about an hour and a half to reach the entrance of Diagon Alley. It was in another alley located behind a quaint pub called The Leaky Cauldron, one that only magical beings could see. If the number of people walking by the peculiar building without a second glance was any indication, then again he had seen stranger things in London.
Hagrid's large frame made it very easy to navigate the large but crowded cobblestone streets of the alley. People naturally seemed to move out of his way. As they walked along the cobblestone streets, he saw shops selling robes, while others were selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before. One shop had a stack of teetering books on display, another had quills(?) And rolls of what appeared to be parchment. He passed several vendors selling potions and eels' eyes.
He could find no better word for what he saw than 'magical'. It had been a rather pleasant surprise, bringing out a childish side of himself that he thought had died long ago. Currently, they were sitting inside one of the few cafes within the alley large enough to fit Hagrid. Hagrid had spent the last half hour or so revealing some jarring truths to him, rather tactlessly at that.
At least his grandmother and mother were alive. That was good news, even if they had spent the last nine years in comas. Hagrid, oblivious to his turmoil, pressed on.
"Could you please repeat that?" Though his face was calm though his voice was strained with a myriad of emotions.
Hagrid stared into the pair of glowing eyes, not unlike the infamous killing curse. For a moment it seemed like they were pulling him in until it felt like it was only the two of them present in the cafe. It stopped when Harry closed his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took several deep breaths. The strange cold whispers ghosting by Hagrid's ear disappeared as well.
He sat there stiff-jawed as the sounds of the cafe washed over him. He opened his eyes again. Hagrid released a breath he didn't know he was holding when he saw they were no longer glowing.
"He's a great man though," Hagrid tried to placate him. "Just give 'im a chance to explain and yer'll see. He did wrong by yer I know. But if ya just give 'im another chance-"
"A chanccce?" Harry hissed. "He left me there to suffer — he left me and never once came back. He ignored all the letters begging for him to intervene." His eyes glowing once more. "And you want me to give that man another chanccce when he didn't deserve the first one he stole."
Unable to deal with it any longer, he stormed out of the cafe, a cool breeze blowing in his wake. It was only when he was on the pavement right outside the cafe that he realised he was in trouble. He had no money and no idea how to navigate this new world. Or was it an old world? Either way, he was...
"Lost?" A cool voice spoke from behind him. He tensed at the feeling of her hand on his shoulder.
It was rare that she met someone like Harry Potter, someone who garnered her attention so effortlessly. It really wasn't a surprise, to be honest, she had yet to meet a Potter who hadn't intrigued her. She almost thanked Morgana for Dumbledore and the opportunity he provided her. Almost.
He was so similar to her when she was his age… The way he carried himself, it was unnerving, like looking in the mirror and seeing a reflection that wasn't yours. So she hadn't hesitated to leave Hagrid behind to follow him out into the streets.
"Lost?" she said as she rested a hand on his shoulder, frowning at the way he flinched before quickly taking a step away from her and turned around to face her.
He stared at her for a moment like he was deciding if she could be trusted.
"Yes," he shrugged sheepishly. "Can you help me?"
"It would be my pleasure, Mister Potter."
"Please call me Harry."
"Then call me Olivia."
She started walking, gesturing for him to follow as she walked deeper into the alley.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To the clinic."
"Why?"
She stopped abruptly, her hard slate-grey eyes softening as she looked at the boy. The bruises shining on his face, the ill-fitting clothes that did nothing to hide how stiff and laboured his movements were. The hollow look in his eyes behind the curious light they held at the moment.
She saw flashes of a smaller younger Harry.
Fear.
He was running in from his older cousin and his gang.
Helplessness and pain.
He was curled up into a ball as a bigger man, his uncle she realised, raining down blow after blow on the boy's barely conscious body madness in his eyes.
Desperation.
He threw himself to the floor dodging the scalding hot oil a horse-faced woman sent his way.
She felt it all.
Fear,
Self-loathing,
Anger,
The desperation for control,
the desire to prove something to himself. He was perfect and it tugged at her heartstrings.
She cupped his cheeks, he didn't flinch away rather he seemed to lean into her touch. Willing obscuring ward around them into existence as she knelt down.
"It is clear for anyone who cares enough," she was surprised by how gentle she was speaking. "Which I do. You're broken and in desperate need of someone in your corner."
He ducked his head down quickly, unable to look at her any longer. But she already had seen the shame burning red on his face, the tears welling up in his eyes. She could feel his body shaking in her hands.
"If you'll have me?"
She slowly lifted his chin up so she could look at his face once more. This time no masks were present on his face, just the dying glimmer of hope under the utterly broken look on his face. Just the quiet desperate pleas for help he had learned not to voice long ago.
"I'd like to be that someone."
Harry stared at her face, his vision blurred by tears. It was still clear enough for him to see the guarded hope in her eyes.
After a moment she began to rise the hope in her eyes replaced by a cold sheen that hid the sting of rejection. Hardly had she begun to move when suddenly she felt herself being wrapped in a tight hug by thin arms. She wrapped her own around him, pulling him closer as she felt hot tears soak through her clothes. There in the middle of the alley with nobody none the wiser she held the boy as his body was wracked with sobs tightly against her.
Thanks for Reading
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Next Chapter - August 16, 2021
Author's Note
So that's Chapter 1 done. I'm pretty pleased with the way things turned out. We've met (in my opinion) a new and improved version of the characters compared to last time. Can't wait to see how the rest of summer turns out.
So as stated above I officially have a Discord Server again the link is in my profile description. That being said, the Author's Note from now on will probably be used to respond to Guest reviews or Story Announcements rather than my thoughts on a chapter.