Harry Potter and the Dawn of Darkness
Disclaimer: About 99.999% of all this (characters, settings, etc) belongs to God **cough** errr….. I mean J.K. Rowling. The Petranni Characters, etc (a teeny bit of other things that will come up later) were all born of my insanity **cough** errr… I mean imagination, and belong to me.
Author's Note: Well, here's my very first attempt at a genuine fanfic! Please keep in mind that it's been a long time, and I'm rather rusty, so I will get better, I promise! Anyway, please R & R, and enjoy! (yeah, right!)
Chapter One
Unforgotten and Unforgiven
Harry Potter opened his eyes. Something was definitely not right. He eyed his room, which looked as harmless and ordinary as ever, straining his mind. Getting up out of bed, he began to pace the room endlessly; looking about as though he might find what was bothering him in one of the dark and dusty corners. Harry thought back to Hogwarts, and what had happened only two months ago: the images that haunted his memory when he allowed himself to think about it, which was more often then he would like, for when you lived with the Dursleys your mind couldn't help but wander… Ah, the Dursleys, a trio if there ever was one… Well, let's see, first there was Uncle Vernon: a large, beefy, purple man whose idea of familial affection extended as far as not kicking that pesky nephew of his to the street corner where he belonged. Secondly there was Aunt Petunia: blonde, long-necked, horse-faced, and just as ugly as she was mean. Finally, let's not forget Dudley Dursley: big, blundering, and more stupid than he was fat (and believe me that's saying something!)
Mulling over this in his mind, he reminded himself of why the summer holidays always made him so miserable. Harry let out a soft groan as he eyed the colorful birthday cards that littered his bedside table, spilling out like a small sea. That was what he missed most about Hogwarts, his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. It was true that he'd had dozens of owls from both of them, true that he'd seen them both in Diagon Alley two weeks ago, but it just wasn't the same as having them here beside him. Without them, he could not distract himself from the pain he felt each day. Without them, the emptiness inside of him stretched on into eternity. Harry felt more alone than he ever had in absence of their presence, after all, weren't Ron and Hermione the only true family he had left? He let out a puff of air as he reminded himself that it would only be one more week until he would be redeemed with the sight of their faces.
When Harry turned the window however, his heart leapt at the sight of what looked like a fleet of owls. Zooming at the head of the line, leading the charge, was Pigwidgeon, looking rather like a gray ball of fluff caught in a wind that couldn't make up its mind as to which way it was blowing. To Harry's great surprise however, the thoroughly over-excited owl landed flawlessly on his left shoulder. "You've been working on that landing of yours I see," he laughed, accompanied of course by a chorus of Pigwidgeon's owlish song of pride, Hedwig's incessant clicking of disapproval, and the constant hooting of the other owls, each demanding to be noticed. "Alright, Alright, keep your feathers on," Harry chuckled as he untied Ron's letter and moved on to collect Hermione's, Sirius', and Hagrid's letters.
Harry waved the owls off as he tore open Sirius' letter, the temptation was too much to resist. It wasn't that Ron's, Hermione's, or Hagrid's letters were of any secondary importance, it was just that he so rarely got word from him, what with being both on the run from muggle and magical law-keepers, and part of the resistance it was understandable that Sirius didn't often have the time to write Harry, but it was disheartening all the same, as Sirius, he now thought, was the only link he had to his parents. He unfolded the letter eagerly, his hands shaking slightly with excitement, after all, Sirius had promised in his last owl that he would be writing Harry a longer letter. He read:
Well, I promised you that I'd write you a lengthier letter, so here it is. First and foremost, I wanted to remind you to stick by Ron and Hermione more than ever before, don't trust anyone, Harry; you don't know who may have turned. Just because someone may have been or seemed trustworthy before doesn't mean they are now. Voldemort inspires great chaos and strikes fear in the heart of the masses, and will attract many weak because of this. Even the good will turn if they have enough fear, need for stability, or if they feel they have no other choice. Watch for traitors all around you, there will be countless more than you can see, and all these turncoats will be looking for one thing to satisfy their master: you, Harry. That's why you can never go anywhere alone, wherever you go make certain that either Ron or Hermione, preferably both, are with you. Your safety is imperative, you have take every precaution possible, one slip and it can mean your life, Harry…
And the letter went on like this… Harry groaned, half-frustrated, half-amused, he should've known, he thought to himself, Sirius' letters were always like that. Harry had yet to receive a letter from Sirius in which he did not give him at least five warnings. Harry had half-a-mind to pester Sirius that his latest correspondence sounded more like a scolding than a letter, but decided against it. He simply wrote:
Dear Sirius,
Look, I appreciate your concern, but I would appreciate it even more if you would not be so persistent with these warnings. One can only read "one slip and you're dead," so many times. You don't have to worry about me, just take care of yourself and keep well away from the dementors.
Everything has been going as usual here. Dudley's diet is continuing, though it looks as if he's actually gained twenty pounds in the last week. I've been keeping well out of Uncle Vernon's way, as he's been in a foul mood ever since Dudley made the basement-ceiling cave in just by stepping on a weak spot on the sitting room floor
Harry paused, wondering briefly whether or not he should tell Sirius about the dreams he'd been having. Cringing guiltily, Harry once again decided not to, Sirius was worried, and if Harry told him… well, he didn't want to think about it. Thus, continuing, he wrote:
Don't worry about me. I'm perfectly fine, nothing has happened that is in any way out of the ordinary.
- Harry
Harry thought that last bit over in his head "I'm perfectly fine, nothing has happened…" 'That's a lie and you know it' he scolded himself. One might have thought Harry had learned, that summer, that pretending that something didn't exist, that it never happened, wouldn't make it go away, at least, he had figured that out when it came to Cedric…
The bitterness Harry felt was almost tangible. In the first few weeks back at the Dursleys', Harry could taste it in the air, the stiff of loss. Sometimes the atmosphere was so heavy he felt like there was a weight sitting on his chest, nearly crushing him. Harry was drowning, in what he wasn't quite sure, but he did know that if it didn't stop, he'd never be able to breathe again. Harry had thought that he had worked through his grief at Hogwarts, but he had been proven wrong. Not long following his return to the Dursleys' had Cedric's face begun to haunt Harry, indeed, he seemed to see him everywhere, standing by the fireplace, glaring through the window, and most disturbing of all was the sight of Cedric in the mirror, staring back at him. Piercing Harry with his gaze, the many Cedric's all wore the same expression, all had the same words playing on their ever-silent lips… "Why
Harry knew that it had to have been his imagination, but the thought didn't give him much more comfort. After all, while it was good to know that nothing was really haunting you, it wasn't much of an improvement being trapped inside yourself, knowing that you're not even safe inside your own mind. Constantly running from his horrible thoughts, Harry spent these first three weeks trying to push Cedric out of his mind, to will away Cedric's face, Cedric's haunting eyes. Frightened almost to the point of madness, Harry sometimes slept through the entire day so that he wouldn't have to see Cedric again. One night in mid-July, however, had Harry managed to forever shake his demons. Sitting in bed, shaking and crying, sobbing like he'd never sobbed before in his life, Harry rocked like a small child, hoarsely choking on the words "I'm sorry Cedric, I'm so sorry…" With every particle of his being he had tried to scream out, tried to say something more, tried to unleash the incomprehensible agony in his soul, but it wouldn't come. "I'm sorry…" was all he could say. It was only then, when Harry finally let down his barriers and let it all in had Cedric's image ceased to haunt him. Harry discovered that if he hoped to overcome his grief, and the guilt that would always be there, he had to experience it first. Although by this point he had much healed, it still pained him to think of Cedric. Somehow, he knew that although his wounds would never truly heal, they would get better, get easier with time, until one day he could think back without an involuntary shudder.
However, there was something else, something else that had been haunting, stalking him only in his dreams. This something else was what he had avoided telling Sirius, or anyone else for that matter, something he kept in the more disturbed regions of himself, something he refused to think about even now, because he could not bear the thought of it, not when he was still recovering from last years events. Besides, he had reasoned, he hadn't had the dreams in two long weeks. Perhaps they had gone?
Harry sighed as he thought this all over in his mind, tying his response to Hedwig's leg, he would be glad to return to Hogwarts next week. He glanced about the room miserably before his eyes fell upon his friends' letters. Releasing a breath he hadn't even been aware that he was holding, Harry reached for one randomly. As he felt his hands run over the parchment of Hermione's letter, he felt he hadn't the energy or strength of heart for much else.
Dear Harry,
I've decided to come back home a little earlier than expected. Things here in Bulgaria are not going quite as well as I'd imagined.
How could Harry have forgotten? Hermione had told he and Ron quite nervously in Diagon Alley that she would be spending the remainder of her summer (minus a day or two) with Viktor Krum in Bulgaria.
I'll tell you about it on the train to Hogwarts next week, I'd rather not think about it at the moment, actually. I've gotten both you and Ron something from Bulgaria, but I'll have to give those to you on the train, I simply must see the looks on your faces when you unwrap them! The history here is fascinating, and what with the wizarding culture you'd think you were in a completely different world! I haven't really the time to elaborate. Hope all's well with you at your aunt and uncle's. Don't worry Harry, you'll be out of there and back at Hogwarts soon enough.
Love from,
Hermione
Harry thought her letter seemed a bit evasive. Indeed, it had been tactful of her not to mention Voldemort. He wondered vaguely just how much Hermione did know. Harry had noticed something odd in her last few owls, he got the distinct impression that she was keeping something from him, but as to what, he hadn't the slightest notion. Surrendering, he moved on to Ron's letter.
Hey Harry,
Only one week left to go mate! Can you believe we're going to be fifth years already? And Hermione's a prefect!
Harry remembered Hermione's enthusiastic letter from a few weeks back. He hadn't told anyone about the letter he had gotten from the school. Harry didn't much feel like telling them that he too had been made a prefect just yet.
I still can't get over that! It just ruins everything. Having a prefect for a best friend, what will we do with her Harry?
Harry felt a stab of horror and guilt, what would Ron say when he found out that he had been made a prefect as well?
Did you hear about Hermione's coming back early? I wonder what's up with her. I guess we'll find out everything soon enough. Well, I've got to go, see you next Friday!
- Ron
P.S: Wonder what Hermione's gotten us?
Slightly apprehensive, Harry reached for Hagrid's letter. Recognizing the all-too-familiar untidy scrawl, he unfolded the parchment and read:
Dear Harry,
Just wanted ter see how yeh was doin' mate. I know it must have been a hard summer fer yeh. I'm sorry I haven't written to yeh more often, but Professor Dumbledore's been keepin' me very busy – and don't ask me about that, because I still can't tell yeh, not now anyways. Don't you worry bout them muggles, Harry, yeh've not long ter spend with 'em before yeh're back a' Hogwarts. See you soon.
- Hagrid
Harry was about to reply to all of these when he heard his stomach growl. Glad to have an excuse to put off a response, he changed and tore downstairs to breakfast. After his unfulfilling meal (if you could call it a meal), of a half of a celery stick (he had been punished for Dudley's latest weight gain), the day began to unfold.
The remainder of the morning and afternoon passed rather uneventfully. Harry was kept mildly busy as the Dursleys' fear of his godfather had not extended to prevent Harry from doing his regular menial chores around the house.
Harry rolled back into his bed a little late that evening, and, tired as he was, he pulled out his photo album. Smiling back at him from each and every page were his parents, Harry smiled melancholy back at them. Ever since his return to Privet Drive, he had made a nightly habit of delving deeply into his parents' pages, their faces. Each night he felt a tug at his heart, his parents, Lily and James Potter, it pained him how little he knew them. Harry sighed to himself, feeling a heavy sadness seep into him for what was not the first time. He would never admit it to anyone, he'd had enough trouble admitting it to himself, but somewhere in his secret heart of hearts, he felt a longing for them, for those people he'd never even known. Indeed, it felt as though Harry were missing a piece of himself, a piece of his soul, a piece of his heart. Without them, he was an incomplete human being. He wanted so badly to have known them in their lifetimes, to have known what it meant to have a mother and father who truly cared for him. If only wishes could come true…
Harry put away the album, not even bothering to tell himself not to waste his thoughts on impossible dreams. As he settled himself beneath his covers however, that old familiar feeling of uneasiness once again swept over him, it engulfed him so that he was swallowed whole. He was consumed instantly by an infinite, monstrous darkness. Something was definitely not right. Trying (and failing) to ignore that horrible, nagging feeling that something was terribly amiss, Harry hoped against hope that he was not about to have another of those dreams…
If only Harry had known what he was to see, he would have prayed for one of those dreams. But he was not quite so lucky; Harry Potter was about to experience something much worse than any dream…