Title: The Journey of a Lifetime Author: Wizard Disclaimer: This story does not belong to me. It belongs to J.K. Rowling, one of the richest women in the United Kingdom. This piece is not being used to make money. It is purely for entertainment of me, the author, and anything you find offensive in this piece, please do not let it affect your decision to buy the Harry Potter books. They truly are wonderful. Summary: This starts at the end of the Goblet of Fire (GoF). After his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry Potter comes back to the Dursleys for the summer vacation. Strange things happen there. The Dursleys become nicer. At least, Dudley does. Harry gets a snake and work, and things go downhill from there. The life of Harry Potter, a young boy, a teenager, a wizard, a hero, as he finds himself. Friends turn enemies and enemies turn friends; what is in store for the fifteen-year-old Boy-Who-Lived? Pairings: HP/OC (H/OC), HG/RW (R/Hr), GW/DM (G/D) Rating: PG-13 [Review if you believe the rating should be changed.] Reviewers for Chapter 1: Phoebs - Thanks. Don't worry. The angst part of the story would be when all of Harry's friends turn on him. Depressing isn't it?
The Journey of a Lifetime
Chapter 2 – The Past
A young boy of fourteen sat up in his bed suddenly, breathing heavily. The blurry images around him made no sense. Shakily, he reached across the small mattress he was on to pick up his glasses from where he had stored them on the floor of the small, damp room. Sweat poured down his face as the boy put his glasses on.
The room came into focus. Harry Potter still marveled at how his glasses, two simple pieces of curved glass, could change his vision so much. He was small and frail, small for his age; in fact, he was so small that he could be mistaken for an eleven-year-old. Today was the first day back from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. How he yearned to be there again. This summer would be horrible, possibly even more horrible than before. He was sure of it.
He had dreamed of it again. Silently, Harry chided himself. It was useless. No matter how hard he tried to stop it, it kept on pushing and pushing, always coming back to him. And it was only the first day back. Things were sure to get worse than they were now. Harry knew that it was impossible to keep the dream away. It always would pester him, again and again. Of course, he deserved it. It was his fault that Cedric Diggory had died that night during the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. If he hadn't been so noble… if… Harry shook his head. No more 'ifs'. What had passed had passed. No more mourning for him.
But his unconscious mind would always wander to the same subject. All the deaths, all the suffering. All of them came down to Lord Voldemort… and to Harry. If Harry had not survived that night thirteen and a half years ago, Voldemort would not have taken revenge. His friends, who had done no wrong except to befriend him, would be in danger. Cedric was dead.
And all I did was stand there, Harry thought desperately. I did nothing.
Harry lay back on his hard mattress, his 'bed.' Bed, Harry thought wryly, a small grin gracing his face in spite of himself. I would be more comfortable sleeping on the floor. The Dursleys had always treated him badly, and he had expected no better from them this summer. But it seemed so much longer and rougher. Of course, there had been deaths in his past, his mother, his father. But to witness one personally was just too horrible. Harry had read in a Muggle magazine that he had scrounged out of the wastebasket that after witnessing a murder, it would be one of the most traumatic times of a person's life. Harry smiled. I was more traumatized when facing Voldemort than I would ever be witnessing a death.
Slowly, Harry drifted off into an uneasy and fitful sleep. Tossing and turning and mumbling softly in his bed, Harry had another dream. For once during the past few weeks, it was not about Cedric or Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was about his past. His whole life flashed before his eyes, and when he would awaken to Aunt Petunia's yells a few hours later, he would remember nothing of the dream.
It was a pitch black night. The darkness was eerie. The night was quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence you see and hear before a storm. And a storm was coming that night. Two storms, one natural and one not. As the first few drips of rain came down, splattering across the well-cut lawn of a tiny house, covering the windows with a clear yet opaque substance, as the first claps of thunder and lightning sounded, Lily Potter was in her baby Harry's room, slowly rocking him to sleep. Harry was ignorant of the storm, very unusual for Harry was only one. Soon, Harry fell asleep. Lily heard a loud noise downstairs. Getting up to investigate, she was surprised when she heard her husband James' yells as she was halfway down the stairs.
"Get Harry and run, Lily. Voldemort's here. I'll hold him off."
Lily hesitated, as though paralyzed in fear and indecision, then she unfroze and ran up as fast as humanly possible, maybe even faster with the adrenaline flowing in her body. She retrieved her wand and ran down the hall to Harry's room, attempting to use a levitation charm to levitate both herself and Harry out the window. She heard an Expelliarmus! and screamed. Gathering Harry up in her arms, blankets and everything, Lily blasted the window open with a well-placed Reductor Curse. Taking one last look back, she wondered if James would be alright. Her question was answered with a huge flash of green light and the dreaded words, Avada Kedavra!
No. Please let James be alright, Lily begged to a higher power hoping they were listening. Her hesitation had cost her though. As she turned once again preparing to leap out the window, a quick Reparo. was said behind her, and she spun around in horror when the window magically repaired itself. Voldemort was standing there, cloaked in pitch black robes, holding a wand in his right hand.
"Stand aside, silly girl. I do not wish to harm you," Voldemort said with asneer.
Lily knew what he was planning. "No. Not Harry. Have mercy. Not Harry," she cried.
"Stand aside," Voldemort ordered.
But Lily wouldn't budge. And Voldemort had no choice but to cast the killing curse on her, before setting his wand on Harry.
"And now," he stated firmly. "Let the Potters all DIE. Avada Kedavra!"
The bright green light streaked towards the little boy, cuddled up in his blanket, unaware of what was happening. Voldemort turned around looking extremely pleased. However, the deadly curse rebounded upon Voldemort. Voldemort disappeared and Harry was left with a lightning bolt shaped scar on his head, remnant of the dark curse he had survived.
Ten years later, Harry Potter lived a miserable life with his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and porky cousin Dudley Dursley. The Dursleys treated Harry like vermin. But on the night Harry turned eleven, Harry received a letter inviting him to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry immediately accepted and began his wonderful and amazing first year at Hogwarts. He met two great friends: Hermione Granger and Ronald, Ron for short, Weasley. Harry also made his second archrival: Draco Malfoy and his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle. But they were too stupid to be considered people. Harry discovered Quidditch, a game played on broomsticks with four balls and six golden hoops suspended in midair.
At the end of his first year, Harry had come face to face with Lord Voldemort; he had taken over the body of Professor Quirrell, one of Harry's teachers.
At the end of his second year, Harry discovered he was a Parseltongue, someone who can talk to snakes. Also, he faced Lord Voldemort once again. Voldemort was as his sixteen-year-old self preserved in a diary. Harry defeated a Basilisk, discovered Voldemort's real name, escaped his clutches once again, although barely, and rescued Ginny Weasley from the horrid and fabled Chamber of Secrets built by the great Salazar Slytherin himself.
Harry did not face Voldemort in his third year at Hogwarts. Instead, his godfather, a convicted murderer who killed twelve Muggles with one single curse, is said to be after him. Harry discovered that Sirius Black was innocent and it was really Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew, who had betrayed his parents.
Harry's fourth year was his most horrible. A huge tournament between the three greatest schools of magic, Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons, was held at Hogwarts: the Triwizard Tournament. Harry was chosen as champion even though he was too young. After surviving a huge Hungarian Horntail dragon and rescuing Ron Weasley from the depth of the lake, Harry found himself in a maze, trying to find the center which held the Triwizard Cup.
Both Cedric Diggory and Harry had reached the cup at the same time. Both argued with each other on the matter of who would take it. Harry finally suggested that they both take it together; it would be a Hogwarts victory anyhow.
What they didn't know was that a traitor had turned the cup into a portkey that took Harry and Cedric to Lord Voldemort in a graveyard far away, in a town known as Little Hangleton. Cedric had been killed immediately with the dreaded Avada Kedavra, and Harry had witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth and had escaped from his clutches yet once again, although just.
That event burned in Harry's mind, never ever leaving him. Harry sighed in his sleep. He turned over in his bed, and the rest of his sleep was dreamless, heavenly dreamless.
To Be ContinuedWizard