Chapter Two: Return of Two Enemies
Harry was frozen with fear. The vile creature that had killed his family was standing before him, again. Already he was feeling the life drain out of him, as if he could never be happy again. And he could hear screams, distant and fuzzy at first, then becoming closer. As Harry sunk to the floor, he could hear the screams becoming louder. He could make out a voice..."Run, Lily! Protect
Harry!"
Harry felt as if all energy he ever had was no longer within him. And yet, there was a small voice in the back of his head, something telling him to use common sense. Something telling him to use his wand...but how could he, when all he could hear was the anguished screams of his dying father? How could he...
"Y-y-you're n-not...V-v-v-v...y-y...YOU'RE JUST A DEMENTOR!"
The cloaked figure seemed unaffected by Harry's sudden outburst, yet Harry felt as if he had just been fed one hundred Chocolate Frogs. He could feel the Dementor trying to win him over, and yet somehow Harry had regained his strength and now held a shiny wand in his right hand. Trying to ignore the draining feeling threatening to take him over once more, he waved his wand in a circular motion, concentrating on the rush of flying on his broomstick. The exhilarating feeling he felt whenever he won a game of Quidditch, and the appalled look on Draco Malfoy's face. And he could envision Cho, smiling at him, her eyes sparkling.
"EXPECTO PETRONUS!" exclaimed Harry, pointing his wand at the Dementor. He saw the brief appearance of a silver stag before the Dementor shriveled into nothingness, leaving behind its cloak.
Trembling with exhaustion, Harry sat on his bed. He hadn't had an encounter with a Dementor since his third year, and had forgotten how draining a Patronus spell could be. How had a Dementor appeared out of nowhere into his room...? It didn't seem possible!
"The Floo Powder," he said aloud, realizing he had gotten off-track. He could tell Ron about the Dementor once he got to the Weasley's. For now, he needed to get to the Weasley's. They were probably worried sick about him.
Harry fumbled around, searching for the bag of mysterious powder.
Finally, he found it. He tossed it into roaring fireplace, wrinkling his nose as he jumped into the crackling flame. He never liked traveling by Floo Powder, but at the moment it was his only choice. His wand was still in his right hand, and he intended to keep it that way. Harry supposed that, since Hedwig was not the owl that returned, she was safely residing in the Burrow. Fred and George could come back to his house and get his schoolbooks later. For now, he needed to get to Ron's.
"THE BURROW!" he shouted loudly and clearly. He felt, for a moment, very light-headed. Elated, even. As if he had suddenly grown wings and an entire blue sky was open to him. As he felt himself being whisked away, Harry Potter found himself grinning - almost stupidly. He didn't want to think about the fact that he had never felt this way with Floo Powder before. He could hear the little voice in his head telling him to stop grinning like an idiot and come back to reality, but he didn't have a chance to listen to it as his thoughts were invaded by blackness.
*~*
When he awoke, Harry's feeling of elation had not disappeared. In fact, he couldn't remember anything that had happened before in his life. All he could think of was this happy dizziness, as if he were drunk, and the voice in his head, telling him to bow before Lord Voldemort. Yeah, sure, why not?
Harry was almost on his knees when a thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. It was very brief, yet it simply told him no. "No," it said. Do not bow before Voldemort. Part of him wanted to ignore this voice. Why should he listen to it, anyway? That voice, that thought, that brainstorm could ruin his state of joy. Anyway, what was wrong with Lord Voldemort? Voldemort was magnificent, Voldemort was powerful, and Voldemort was perfection. He had no reason not to bow before him.
Harry Potter, the sworn enemy of Voldemort, bowed before the resurrected creature. He could hear instructions in his head, as if he was reading a script. He was to say he pledged his full loyalty to the greatness of Lord Voldemort, and that the scum of James and Lily Potter never had any right to live.
Suddenly, it was as if Harry had fallen from heaven and back down onto earth. He crashed to the floor, both mentally and physically. The scar on his forehead was burning with intense pain. Yes, his scar. The scar that Voldemort gave him when he tried to kill him, after he killed his parents.
Everything was clear now. Harry remembered everything that had happened, up to using the Floo Powder. And now he could see. It was as if, before, a shining light blinded his vision. But now, before his very eyes, was Lord Voldemort. His thin, scant body was covered with loose, black robes. His face remained covered, except for his red, glowing eyes. He had a human frame, perhaps, and he was once a human, but the creature that stood before Harry was anything but human.
The voice still rang in Harry's head, still ordering him to pledge his loyalty and say his parents never deserved life. But the feeling of elation had left Harry, and he now knew what was going on. The undead figure in front of him had used an Imperious curse upon him, a stronger one than he had ever experienced, hoping to gain control. And, for a few fleeting minutes, he did.
Harry hoisted himself off of the dirty floor, not bothering to look at his surroundings. He could see the Dark Lord's radioactive eyes widening in surprise. Harry was glaring at him, mouthing the words, "No! I will not give into you, scum!"
It was then that Harry noticed that his wand, which now seemed to be glowing, was still in his right hand. And now, it was pointing at Voldemort.
Harry was frozen with fear. The vile creature that had killed his family was standing before him, again. Already he was feeling the life drain out of him, as if he could never be happy again. And he could hear screams, distant and fuzzy at first, then becoming closer. As Harry sunk to the floor, he could hear the screams becoming louder. He could make out a voice..."Run, Lily! Protect
Harry!"
Harry felt as if all energy he ever had was no longer within him. And yet, there was a small voice in the back of his head, something telling him to use common sense. Something telling him to use his wand...but how could he, when all he could hear was the anguished screams of his dying father? How could he...
"Y-y-you're n-not...V-v-v-v...y-y...YOU'RE JUST A DEMENTOR!"
The cloaked figure seemed unaffected by Harry's sudden outburst, yet Harry felt as if he had just been fed one hundred Chocolate Frogs. He could feel the Dementor trying to win him over, and yet somehow Harry had regained his strength and now held a shiny wand in his right hand. Trying to ignore the draining feeling threatening to take him over once more, he waved his wand in a circular motion, concentrating on the rush of flying on his broomstick. The exhilarating feeling he felt whenever he won a game of Quidditch, and the appalled look on Draco Malfoy's face. And he could envision Cho, smiling at him, her eyes sparkling.
"EXPECTO PETRONUS!" exclaimed Harry, pointing his wand at the Dementor. He saw the brief appearance of a silver stag before the Dementor shriveled into nothingness, leaving behind its cloak.
Trembling with exhaustion, Harry sat on his bed. He hadn't had an encounter with a Dementor since his third year, and had forgotten how draining a Patronus spell could be. How had a Dementor appeared out of nowhere into his room...? It didn't seem possible!
"The Floo Powder," he said aloud, realizing he had gotten off-track. He could tell Ron about the Dementor once he got to the Weasley's. For now, he needed to get to the Weasley's. They were probably worried sick about him.
Harry fumbled around, searching for the bag of mysterious powder.
Finally, he found it. He tossed it into roaring fireplace, wrinkling his nose as he jumped into the crackling flame. He never liked traveling by Floo Powder, but at the moment it was his only choice. His wand was still in his right hand, and he intended to keep it that way. Harry supposed that, since Hedwig was not the owl that returned, she was safely residing in the Burrow. Fred and George could come back to his house and get his schoolbooks later. For now, he needed to get to Ron's.
"THE BURROW!" he shouted loudly and clearly. He felt, for a moment, very light-headed. Elated, even. As if he had suddenly grown wings and an entire blue sky was open to him. As he felt himself being whisked away, Harry Potter found himself grinning - almost stupidly. He didn't want to think about the fact that he had never felt this way with Floo Powder before. He could hear the little voice in his head telling him to stop grinning like an idiot and come back to reality, but he didn't have a chance to listen to it as his thoughts were invaded by blackness.
*~*
When he awoke, Harry's feeling of elation had not disappeared. In fact, he couldn't remember anything that had happened before in his life. All he could think of was this happy dizziness, as if he were drunk, and the voice in his head, telling him to bow before Lord Voldemort. Yeah, sure, why not?
Harry was almost on his knees when a thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. It was very brief, yet it simply told him no. "No," it said. Do not bow before Voldemort. Part of him wanted to ignore this voice. Why should he listen to it, anyway? That voice, that thought, that brainstorm could ruin his state of joy. Anyway, what was wrong with Lord Voldemort? Voldemort was magnificent, Voldemort was powerful, and Voldemort was perfection. He had no reason not to bow before him.
Harry Potter, the sworn enemy of Voldemort, bowed before the resurrected creature. He could hear instructions in his head, as if he was reading a script. He was to say he pledged his full loyalty to the greatness of Lord Voldemort, and that the scum of James and Lily Potter never had any right to live.
Suddenly, it was as if Harry had fallen from heaven and back down onto earth. He crashed to the floor, both mentally and physically. The scar on his forehead was burning with intense pain. Yes, his scar. The scar that Voldemort gave him when he tried to kill him, after he killed his parents.
Everything was clear now. Harry remembered everything that had happened, up to using the Floo Powder. And now he could see. It was as if, before, a shining light blinded his vision. But now, before his very eyes, was Lord Voldemort. His thin, scant body was covered with loose, black robes. His face remained covered, except for his red, glowing eyes. He had a human frame, perhaps, and he was once a human, but the creature that stood before Harry was anything but human.
The voice still rang in Harry's head, still ordering him to pledge his loyalty and say his parents never deserved life. But the feeling of elation had left Harry, and he now knew what was going on. The undead figure in front of him had used an Imperious curse upon him, a stronger one than he had ever experienced, hoping to gain control. And, for a few fleeting minutes, he did.
Harry hoisted himself off of the dirty floor, not bothering to look at his surroundings. He could see the Dark Lord's radioactive eyes widening in surprise. Harry was glaring at him, mouthing the words, "No! I will not give into you, scum!"
It was then that Harry noticed that his wand, which now seemed to be glowing, was still in his right hand. And now, it was pointing at Voldemort.
