Harry Potter and the Children's Crusades
Harry Potter theme and related characters are property of J.K. Rowling. Plot and character Naera Vale is property of Meisako Pyoko-Chan (Melissa Pomeroy), 2002. Any and all reviews appriaciated.~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
chapter ONE: Mr. Potter's Great Vanishing Act
*****
Welcome to my version of Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. This is the story of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and just about everyone else, and a new character, Naera Vale. Please read my rendition of Harry's fifth year, Harry Potter and the Fallen Angel at Hogwart (complete), and Lily and James (from seventh year to that fateful night), Until Death Do Us Part (work in progress).
****
Harry Potter layed in the bed, wide awake and fully aware of everything that was going on around him. Nothing. He stared at the ceiling, the white ceiling with a crack in the plaster. Harry often thought the crack looked like a profile of a face. But who's face? Everyday he stared at it, trying to decide who's profile it was. Yesterday it looked like Hermione. Today, it was Albus Dumbledore.
Harry didn't need to move his head to know what the rest of the room looked like. White; bare except for the metal bed on which he layed, a door with a slot hole, and a light bulb in a plastic fixture in the center of the ceiling. It drove Harry mad- they never turned that light off. There were no windows- even if there were, they would only show the bricked walls of the building beside him. Down town Dublin was far too crowded for Harry's liking.
Hae stared again at the crack, fixxing his eyes intently on it. Harry could feel sleep taking over.
"Don't go to sleep, Harry." He thought to himself. "You know what happens when you are sleep."
Harry could only think this, never speak. Harry had refused to speak since he first arrived. They would only think him madder if he talked to himself, yet they already thought him off his nut for never saying a word. Some of them had just said he had been traumatized as a youth. They had no idea, but this wasn't his reason for not speaking to anyone. This was completely fine with Harry, just as long as he didn't have to talk to them.
Harry heard some one fiddle with keys on the opposite side of the door. A slot in the door opened and he heard something being dropped on the floor. The slot closed and they locked it again. Harry knew it was his breakfast- or was it his dinner? He had lost all track of the time and the dates.
Harry went to get the food but found he couldn't move.
He sighed, thinking profane thoughts of the stupid men who forgot to take the bed restraints off of him. He lay still, staring again at the crack.
His eyes feeling heavy, Harry bit his tongue violently to keep himself awake. He didn't want to sleep, to dream. The dreams were filled with faces. Voices. Images. Memories. Each too harsh to recall.
No one knew where he was, except the Dursleys, and no one would ever find him. How long had he been there? A year? Two years? By now, everyone must have forgotten the boy-who-lived. He was now the boy-who-vanished. Did anyone bother to look for him? Surely Sirius must have...
Sirius...
Harry's eyes teared up, but not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. Poor Sirius, all alone. Worried. Harry hated to worry his godfather, but he couldn't help it. His family, then Dursleys, had become afraid of Harry and feared for their lives. It was only reasonable. Last year (or was it two years ago?) they were attacked because Harry lived with them.
When Harry got back from school after his fifth year he found a white van and a truck in the driveway of number four Privet Drive where he livedwith his aunt, uncle, and repulsive cousin. Men were loading peices of furniture onto the truck. The Dursleys were moving.
Harry's things -all of them- were taken from him and two men from the white van grabbed him.
"It's for the best, Harry." Uncle Vernon had said.
"Perhaps we'll visit..."
But Aunt Petunia had lied. They never visited. Not once. They had succeeded in ridding their lives of Harry.
How the Dursleys managed to convince anyone that Harry was crazy was beyond him. Thinking about it, Harry decided it wasn't all that impossible. It was most likely the broom, owl, cloak, and spell books that had the men from the white truck believing he was off his rocker. Now Harry was in the nut house- left alone to ponder his life.
Harry laughed. It was the first sound to come from his mouth since he had arrived. Harry James Potter, the boy who survived the most powerful and evil wizard of the century on several occasions could not free himself of his bed-restraints. Maybe Harry was crazy after all.
There was a sound of keys on the other side of the door. Harry kept laughing. A hand reached in the food slot and pulled the tray back in.
"Not hungry, Mr. Potter? That's the fourth meal you've skipped this week!" The male voice sounded off rhythm, perhaps it was Harry's laughing that so unnerved the guard. Harry had never made a sound before.
Harry didn't reply. He merely laughed.
The boy-who-lived was in the insane assylum. The man took the food and left... leaving Harry alone- again.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
I figured I'd go with unique. I mean, how many stories out there have you read where Harry is insane!? Not many, I'll warrant you that! If you find an error in my story, please tell me and I'll go back and fix it A.S.A.P.!
I have a new E-Mail: Slytherin_Angel@MostlySunny.com Please email me! :) I'd like that.
Harry Potter theme and related characters are property of J.K. Rowling. Plot and character Naera Vale is property of Meisako Pyoko-Chan (Melissa Pomeroy), 2002. Any and all reviews appriaciated.
chapter ONE: Mr. Potter's Great Vanishing Act
Welcome to my version of Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. This is the story of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and just about everyone else, and a new character, Naera Vale. Please read my rendition of Harry's fifth year, Harry Potter and the Fallen Angel at Hogwart (complete), and Lily and James (from seventh year to that fateful night), Until Death Do Us Part (work in progress).
****
Harry Potter layed in the bed, wide awake and fully aware of everything that was going on around him. Nothing. He stared at the ceiling, the white ceiling with a crack in the plaster. Harry often thought the crack looked like a profile of a face. But who's face? Everyday he stared at it, trying to decide who's profile it was. Yesterday it looked like Hermione. Today, it was Albus Dumbledore.
Harry didn't need to move his head to know what the rest of the room looked like. White; bare except for the metal bed on which he layed, a door with a slot hole, and a light bulb in a plastic fixture in the center of the ceiling. It drove Harry mad- they never turned that light off. There were no windows- even if there were, they would only show the bricked walls of the building beside him. Down town Dublin was far too crowded for Harry's liking.
Hae stared again at the crack, fixxing his eyes intently on it. Harry could feel sleep taking over.
"Don't go to sleep, Harry." He thought to himself. "You know what happens when you are sleep."
Harry could only think this, never speak. Harry had refused to speak since he first arrived. They would only think him madder if he talked to himself, yet they already thought him off his nut for never saying a word. Some of them had just said he had been traumatized as a youth. They had no idea, but this wasn't his reason for not speaking to anyone. This was completely fine with Harry, just as long as he didn't have to talk to them.
Harry heard some one fiddle with keys on the opposite side of the door. A slot in the door opened and he heard something being dropped on the floor. The slot closed and they locked it again. Harry knew it was his breakfast- or was it his dinner? He had lost all track of the time and the dates.
Harry went to get the food but found he couldn't move.
He sighed, thinking profane thoughts of the stupid men who forgot to take the bed restraints off of him. He lay still, staring again at the crack.
His eyes feeling heavy, Harry bit his tongue violently to keep himself awake. He didn't want to sleep, to dream. The dreams were filled with faces. Voices. Images. Memories. Each too harsh to recall.
No one knew where he was, except the Dursleys, and no one would ever find him. How long had he been there? A year? Two years? By now, everyone must have forgotten the boy-who-lived. He was now the boy-who-vanished. Did anyone bother to look for him? Surely Sirius must have...
Sirius...
Harry's eyes teared up, but not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. Poor Sirius, all alone. Worried. Harry hated to worry his godfather, but he couldn't help it. His family, then Dursleys, had become afraid of Harry and feared for their lives. It was only reasonable. Last year (or was it two years ago?) they were attacked because Harry lived with them.
When Harry got back from school after his fifth year he found a white van and a truck in the driveway of number four Privet Drive where he livedwith his aunt, uncle, and repulsive cousin. Men were loading peices of furniture onto the truck. The Dursleys were moving.
Harry's things -all of them- were taken from him and two men from the white van grabbed him.
"It's for the best, Harry." Uncle Vernon had said.
"Perhaps we'll visit..."
But Aunt Petunia had lied. They never visited. Not once. They had succeeded in ridding their lives of Harry.
How the Dursleys managed to convince anyone that Harry was crazy was beyond him. Thinking about it, Harry decided it wasn't all that impossible. It was most likely the broom, owl, cloak, and spell books that had the men from the white truck believing he was off his rocker. Now Harry was in the nut house- left alone to ponder his life.
Harry laughed. It was the first sound to come from his mouth since he had arrived. Harry James Potter, the boy who survived the most powerful and evil wizard of the century on several occasions could not free himself of his bed-restraints. Maybe Harry was crazy after all.
There was a sound of keys on the other side of the door. Harry kept laughing. A hand reached in the food slot and pulled the tray back in.
"Not hungry, Mr. Potter? That's the fourth meal you've skipped this week!" The male voice sounded off rhythm, perhaps it was Harry's laughing that so unnerved the guard. Harry had never made a sound before.
Harry didn't reply. He merely laughed.
The boy-who-lived was in the insane assylum. The man took the food and left... leaving Harry alone- again.
I figured I'd go with unique. I mean, how many stories out there have you read where Harry is insane!? Not many, I'll warrant you that! If you find an error in my story, please tell me and I'll go back and fix it A.S.A.P.!
I have a new E-Mail: Slytherin_Angel@MostlySunny.com Please email me! :) I'd like that.