Chapter 2 Surprises
By, Silver Lighting
"Harry Potter! You get yourself down here! Now!" screamed the voice of Petunia Dursley. Harry pulled himself slowly out of bed, then walked barefoot down the stairs toward the spotless kitchen. What he saw there stopped him dead.
There, sitting in Harry's usual spot across from Dudley, was none other then Headmaster Dumbledore. The first thought that entered Harry's mind was that something had happened to Sirius. The Headmaster must have noticed Harry's paleness, because he said, "Nothing has happened, Harry. But I'm afraid I do carry… unwanted news." Turning toward where Vernon sat, Dumbledore said, "Harry and I need to talk privately, if you don't mind," his grave voice said that he didn't care if they minded or not.
To Harry's great surprise, Vernon stood and walked Dudley and Petunia out of the kitchen, closing the door softly behind them.
"What--" he started, only to be stopped when Dumbledore held up his hand.
"Please, Harry," he whispered, his voice sounding as close to pleading as Harry had ever heard it, "please, just listen for a moment." At Harry's nod, he drew in a deep breath and continued, "Things that I never thought possible are happening, Harry. People are dieing for no reason that anyone can think about. Their just falling over dead. No, it's not the killing curse. No one can explain it. The only thing we have to go on is a tiny clue left with each body." Reaching into his dark green robes, he pulled out a tiny object, covered with white cloth. "This is all we have." Slowly, he held his hand out to Harry and watched as Harry stared at his hand as if it were a sharp fanged beast.
Harry gazed at the cloth for what felt like an eternity before extending his own hand to take it. Leisurely, he unfolded the cloth, pulling it back to see what lay under.
For a second time that day, he was stopped dead by what he saw. Inside the cloth, wrapped like the most precarious of all things, was a tiny doll. It was a boy, a black haired, green eyed boy doll. But what scared Harry the most was on the doll's forehead. In the same place as Harry's, the doll carried a lighting blot scar. Only this one had red coloring under it, as if it were bleeding.
Harry felt a all too familiar pain zip down his scar as he touched the scar on the doll. Holding it tightly in his hand, he doubled over, barely hearing Dumbledore cry out in surprise before felling two strong hands take his shoulders. "Harry! Harry, you must look at me!" he heard as if from a great distance. But he was afraid. Afraid of what he would find if he looked up.
The same hands that were on his shoulders started to shake him, trying to pull him out of whatever darkness he was in. The doll was jerked out of his hands. As if someone had flicked a light switch, Harry stood up straight, looking at Dumbledore with hell in his eyes.
"What the hell is that?" Harry asked in a deadly clam voice, staring at the fallen doll, which laying peacefully face down on the cold, tile floor.
"Harry," the Headmaster started, "We don't know, it's some kind of dark magic. So dark that no one has ever seen it before." Turning to make sure the door was firmly shut, he said, "Harry, you have to leave this house. Today. Now." Reaching a wary hand out, Dumbledore used a bit of cloth to wipe away the blood that had leaked out of Harry's scar, just like the doll's. "Go, get your things, I must speak with your anut and uncle."
Harry didn't need telling twice. He turned, opened the door and walk as calmly as you please past the living room and toward the stairs, then heading up them toward his room. Once there, he got all his things together and closed his trunk, then pulled on an old, beatup pair of sneakers. He looked one last time around the room. It as only when he reached the door that he stopped, dropped his trunk, walk back to the bed, reached under the bed to the lose floor board, finally pulling out the old, ratty pillow case that was hidden there, he opened his trunk and gently sat it down in the center of the trunk, closed it and headed back to the kitchen, where Dumbledore was sitting with Vernon and Petunia, Dudley was most likely in his room, hiding from the unknown wizard.
Dumbledore stood when he spotted Harry. "Ready to go?"
"Where *am* I going?" Harry asked as Dumbledore waved his wand, making Harry's trunk flot into the living room.
"Well, I know you won't want to come if I tell you, so you'll have to wait till we get there." was the answer he got, with Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkling down at him.
"*How* are we getting there?" Harry asked with dread as Dumbledore stepped over to the fire place.
With another wave of his wand, Dumbledore removed the fake set up that had just been repaired two years ago. "Floo powder." Inwardly Harry groaned; he *hated* this kind of travel.
"Come on, Harry. You go and I'll apparate there after I fix this fire place back." Easily, he started a fire, then reached into his robes and pulled out a small satchel. "Here you go. Just say 'S.S. Manor.'" With that, he gave Harry a small push and handed him the satchel.
Here goes nothing, Harry thought, throwing a hand full of the powder into the fire. It turned a soft green as Harry stepped in with Hedwig's cage, who was out hunting at the moment. "S.S. Manor!" he shouted, then closed his eyes at the whirling colors.
When he felt himself slowing down, he fell out.
And found himself looking up into the black, bottomless eyes of a *really* annoyed Severus Snape.
Oh crap, was the first thought that came into his mind.
By, Silver Lighting
"Harry Potter! You get yourself down here! Now!" screamed the voice of Petunia Dursley. Harry pulled himself slowly out of bed, then walked barefoot down the stairs toward the spotless kitchen. What he saw there stopped him dead.
There, sitting in Harry's usual spot across from Dudley, was none other then Headmaster Dumbledore. The first thought that entered Harry's mind was that something had happened to Sirius. The Headmaster must have noticed Harry's paleness, because he said, "Nothing has happened, Harry. But I'm afraid I do carry… unwanted news." Turning toward where Vernon sat, Dumbledore said, "Harry and I need to talk privately, if you don't mind," his grave voice said that he didn't care if they minded or not.
To Harry's great surprise, Vernon stood and walked Dudley and Petunia out of the kitchen, closing the door softly behind them.
"What--" he started, only to be stopped when Dumbledore held up his hand.
"Please, Harry," he whispered, his voice sounding as close to pleading as Harry had ever heard it, "please, just listen for a moment." At Harry's nod, he drew in a deep breath and continued, "Things that I never thought possible are happening, Harry. People are dieing for no reason that anyone can think about. Their just falling over dead. No, it's not the killing curse. No one can explain it. The only thing we have to go on is a tiny clue left with each body." Reaching into his dark green robes, he pulled out a tiny object, covered with white cloth. "This is all we have." Slowly, he held his hand out to Harry and watched as Harry stared at his hand as if it were a sharp fanged beast.
Harry gazed at the cloth for what felt like an eternity before extending his own hand to take it. Leisurely, he unfolded the cloth, pulling it back to see what lay under.
For a second time that day, he was stopped dead by what he saw. Inside the cloth, wrapped like the most precarious of all things, was a tiny doll. It was a boy, a black haired, green eyed boy doll. But what scared Harry the most was on the doll's forehead. In the same place as Harry's, the doll carried a lighting blot scar. Only this one had red coloring under it, as if it were bleeding.
Harry felt a all too familiar pain zip down his scar as he touched the scar on the doll. Holding it tightly in his hand, he doubled over, barely hearing Dumbledore cry out in surprise before felling two strong hands take his shoulders. "Harry! Harry, you must look at me!" he heard as if from a great distance. But he was afraid. Afraid of what he would find if he looked up.
The same hands that were on his shoulders started to shake him, trying to pull him out of whatever darkness he was in. The doll was jerked out of his hands. As if someone had flicked a light switch, Harry stood up straight, looking at Dumbledore with hell in his eyes.
"What the hell is that?" Harry asked in a deadly clam voice, staring at the fallen doll, which laying peacefully face down on the cold, tile floor.
"Harry," the Headmaster started, "We don't know, it's some kind of dark magic. So dark that no one has ever seen it before." Turning to make sure the door was firmly shut, he said, "Harry, you have to leave this house. Today. Now." Reaching a wary hand out, Dumbledore used a bit of cloth to wipe away the blood that had leaked out of Harry's scar, just like the doll's. "Go, get your things, I must speak with your anut and uncle."
Harry didn't need telling twice. He turned, opened the door and walk as calmly as you please past the living room and toward the stairs, then heading up them toward his room. Once there, he got all his things together and closed his trunk, then pulled on an old, beatup pair of sneakers. He looked one last time around the room. It as only when he reached the door that he stopped, dropped his trunk, walk back to the bed, reached under the bed to the lose floor board, finally pulling out the old, ratty pillow case that was hidden there, he opened his trunk and gently sat it down in the center of the trunk, closed it and headed back to the kitchen, where Dumbledore was sitting with Vernon and Petunia, Dudley was most likely in his room, hiding from the unknown wizard.
Dumbledore stood when he spotted Harry. "Ready to go?"
"Where *am* I going?" Harry asked as Dumbledore waved his wand, making Harry's trunk flot into the living room.
"Well, I know you won't want to come if I tell you, so you'll have to wait till we get there." was the answer he got, with Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkling down at him.
"*How* are we getting there?" Harry asked with dread as Dumbledore stepped over to the fire place.
With another wave of his wand, Dumbledore removed the fake set up that had just been repaired two years ago. "Floo powder." Inwardly Harry groaned; he *hated* this kind of travel.
"Come on, Harry. You go and I'll apparate there after I fix this fire place back." Easily, he started a fire, then reached into his robes and pulled out a small satchel. "Here you go. Just say 'S.S. Manor.'" With that, he gave Harry a small push and handed him the satchel.
Here goes nothing, Harry thought, throwing a hand full of the powder into the fire. It turned a soft green as Harry stepped in with Hedwig's cage, who was out hunting at the moment. "S.S. Manor!" he shouted, then closed his eyes at the whirling colors.
When he felt himself slowing down, he fell out.
And found himself looking up into the black, bottomless eyes of a *really* annoyed Severus Snape.
Oh crap, was the first thought that came into his mind.