It had worked differently than he had thought. True, he had still seen Voldemort, and his little play people, and true, his scar still bled in waves. But the pain had decreased enough for him to notice. And that was a good thing. The first good thing all day.
An owl crash landed onto his desk carrying a letter in a green envelope. He knew what a green envelope meant. It had a spell on it. He wondered if it was from Hermione. He had left Hogwarts two weeks ago, and he supposed she would write him soon.
Harry read his name off the envelope, and recognized the handwriting. It was about time for him to be hearing from Sirius. Yet, that still didn't explain about the spell in the envelope. As Harry began to open it, the exhausted and ruffled owl desperately flew out the window and dived into the backyard. Shrugging, Harry opened the envelope.
As soon as it was opened, a red envelope fell out. The door locked and the window slammed shut and locked. The word "silencio" lingered in the air. So Harry was locked in his room, which was sealed off from noise, with what appeared to be a letter from Sirius. Not just any letter. This one was definitely a howler. The envelope trembled before it burst open.
"WHAT IN BLOODY HELL ARE YOU
THINKING!?!? NOT GOING BACK TO HOGWARTS!?!? HOW CAN YOU DO SUCH A DISPICABLE
THING? HOW CAN YOU STAND THE MUGGLES? HOW CAN YOU AVOID GOING TO THE
The envelope burst into ash and a
small piece of parchment fell onto the floor. Naturally, Harry picked it up to
read. P.S. I heard your muggles got you a
motorbike. Congratulations. Harry couldn't help smiling. The man had no
clue. You are not supposed to say things like that when you want people to do
something for you. It didn't really matter anyway, Harry's mind was made up anyway.
The clock down in the parlor sounded twice. It was
/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/
Work was exhausting. Lockhart had recently come out with a new book, Compilations of Your Favourite Magical Rescues, by Gilderoy Lockhart. There was a picture of him on the cover which would make Mrs. Weasley blush. Harry swore to himself, that is the picture winked at him, or blew one more kiss at him, he would destroy the lot of them. The book was large enough, and Harry couldn't help but wonder exactly how a person could fill so many pages with lies. Stolen lies, at that. As he placed the last one on it's shelf, he sighed in approval.
He couldn't help shaking his head at the women camping outside overnight, just to make sure they would be the first to get a copy when Flourish and Blotts opened tomorrow. Pathetic. People shouldn't swoon at celebrities; he knew more than anyone that just because you're popular doesn't make you special. He wandered over to the counter where Spencer was.
"Thanks a bunch, Harry, for finishing before you went home." Spencer said as he read a relatively small book
"No problem. Are you going to home?" Harry asked as Spencer turned the page of his book.
"No, I have to make sure no hot and bothered patron get wand-happy and try to take their book too early. I'll be fine. I do this all the time." They exchanged good-byes, and Harry stepped into the floo. He didn't know that when he shouted "The Dursley's," his life would take a very sharp turn.
/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/
"CRUCIO!!!" The shrill voice of the conjuror was only surpassed by the shriek that followed it. Harry leapt to his feet. He had drawn his wand and was prepared for anything. The living room was empty. But he could see the back of a man silhouetted in the doorway of the kitchen.
"Where, IS HE?" The same voice screamed. There were two different wailings emanating from the kitchen.
"I, I don't
know!!!" screamed Vernon Dursley. The sound echoed eerily in the house. A
silencing spell was obviously on the house. "Crucio!!!" the voice screamed again.
There was a light thumping as someone came down the stairs. The sound was barely noticeable over the crying. 'Divide, and destroy.' It was what he had to do. "Stupefy!" Harry said in a hoarse whisper. He hit the figure coming down the stairs. The figure slumped over onto the ground at the base of the staircase. The thump was much louder than his marching down the stairs.
"Avery, go check on Wendle, would you. What the hell's he doing up there still?" The man in the high pitched voice said again. He finally recognized the voice. Wormtail!!! Hatred and revenge burst into his bloodstream. The figure in the doorway was turning his way. He had to appear now.
Harry sprinted straight at the man. The surprise and momentum were all Harry needed. "Stupefy" Harry yelled. The spell hit the man, and he slumped enough to allow Harry to leap over his body. Harry fell into the kitchen, and started sliding along the floor.
"GET
HIM!!!" Wormtail yelled to another man, who was drinking something at the
kitchen table. Harry saw his Aunt and Uncle curled up on the floor in the
corner.
"I don't need them. I can do this myself. I have waited so long to do this myself. No one is around to stop me anymore. Tell your parents…hmm, what should I have you tell them? Commit this to memory, boy. Tell your parent I hope they are enjoying their stay. Tell them we are all well down here, and they are not nearly as missed as they could hope, also mention, only if they ask, that it was me who was feeling around inside you mother when she died –" He stopped suddenly. Harry's limbic system had taken too much. He couldn't control it any longer. Her let it all out. He let it flow. It was his essence, his power, his strength. His eye's glowed green, but his iris's were gone. His body had grown in stature, and his facial muscles began to rival his body muscles. The fear written on Peter's face turned to panic, and he found one more conflict to run from. There was a pop, and he was in a cage.
There was a far away yelling, and Harry turned to see the one he had disarmed charging from the side. He dove into Harry knocking him backwards. He landed on top of Harry and with a drawn knife tried to stab Harry in the eye. Harry pushed the knife aside at the last minute, and it cut the skin clear through on the bridge of his nose. The man overpowered Harry, and the knife went forward, nicking his ear and being buried deep into the wooden floor. The man placed his hand on Harry's face, smearing the gushing blood into his eyes, into his mouth, even into his ears. Harry didn't have the strength, until the man's other hand went around Harry's throat. Harry gasped as he could no longer breathe. Harry used all the will power he had and the man flew backwards at incredible speeds. He crashed through the wall and landed in the garage. The man stood up and put his hand on the back of his head. When he removed it, it was covered in blood.
Harry was having trouble seeing through the blood in his eyes. He winced in pain. He knew when his attacker crouched, that he was picking up a wand. "Bombardious." A ball flew by Harry's head and hit the wall behind him. A shock wave sent him flying forward. He was able to make out a large chunk of the wall was missing. He groaned. If he didn't die in this battle, his relatives would surely kill him. Another ball went over him, but this one fell short of the wall and hit the floor. The explosion created a hole in the floor, and Harry had no choice but to fall through. He landed hard on the concrete. His back hurt a lot. He didn't think he could move. Pieces from the floor kept falling in, as if the structure of the house could no longer support itself. Harry raised his wand arm. If it came down to it, it would be all he needed. The head of the man peered over the edge of the hole.
"Incendio" Harry yelled, the ball of fire narrowly missed the man, but got close enough to get his clothes on fire. The rest of the flame hit the ceiling of the ground story, setting the living room ablaze. The smoke and debris was making it difficult to see and breathe. Thankfully, the tears he was experiencing from the pain was washing the blood from his eyes. He could still feel the warm blood oozing from the bridge of his nose. He groaned and sat up. The pain became sharp but he refused to scream, and he didn't have time to cry. Harry couldn't see where exactly the man was, but he guessed, and set the ceiling of the basement on fire. It ignited without much encouragement, and the floor fell through, with the man. He reacted quickly, sending water all around him to try to quench the flames. Harry took the advantage and threw a stunning spell, which missed. Harry sucked up the pain and stood up. His legs gave way just in time as a spell passed over his head. Harry heard a word, but he couldn't tell what it was while a jet of red was headed towards him, in desperation he put his left hand up and force all the mental strength he could into stopping it.
It wasn't enough, and the spell hit with a half of the power it was sent with. The pain was tremendous. It was obviously the Cruciatus Curse. Harry collapsed and cried out. The spell ended quickly, but he heard it sent again. He used all of his strength to stop it, and he did it, it halted and hovered between them. A rainbow of lights flew past Harry's eyes followed by a crushing boom. He was thrown against the concrete wall slamming his head. He heard a crack and knew he wouldn't last much longer. He couldn't withhold a smirk. He had actually blocked a Cruciatus Curse. He staggered to his feet and noticed he had dropped his wand. The dust and smoke was so thick, and the fires so hot, that he knew he had no chance of finding it. Regardless, an object on the floor caught his eye. He picked it up and examined it. It was a crowbar. He approached where he saw the man last. Directly ahead of him, he saw the man standing with his wand pointed into the smoke. Harry gasped, and the man fired a disarming spell into the fiery darkness. Harry, functioning on pure adrenaline, charged the man, and with the strongest swing he could muster, struck the man in the head. There was a sickening crack as the man's head became caught between the concrete wall and the steel crowbar. He fell down, dead. Harry knew he was dead. No one could survive that. No one. Not even he could. The pain was too much, the exhaustion was overcoming his weak mind, and slowly, he slipped into an unconscious state.
/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/
He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious. It couldn't have been long. The fires were still burning, however greatly reduced in size. Harry stood, or tried to stand but fell down. He knee was hurting so much he thought it must have been shattered. His back hurt when he move it, and his head felt like it was locked in a vice. A beam fell from above and clattered noisily on the other side of the basement. He looked over at the man who he had hit with the crowbar. His head was greatly deformed from the impact of the crowbar, and it lay lifeless in a puddle of dark blood.. Harry turned to the side and vomited. It was a terrible feeling. Like he had eaten something evil, and was going to have to swallow it again. How would he explain this. His behavior at the train station would have Malfoy blaming him. The ministry would believe Malfoy, and all the other death eaters. He was royally screwed. What would Dumbledore do. He didn't have the courage to call Dumbledore. He would be facing much more than this, and Dumbledore wouldn't be able to help. He noticed the stairs out of the basement had burned to oblivion. He had to think of what to do, but first he had to get out of the cellar.
Harry had learned to apperate. He read it in the books, and practiced all summer long. He was able to go short distances with confidence, but that was always in a calm and relaxed environment. Right now, Harry was neither. He focused as much strength as he could on transporting himself those eight feet up and five feet over. He saw himself appear there, and in fatigue he fell onto his arse, right near the edge of the gaping hole in the floor. It was dark now, and Harry wondered why no police or firemen had shown up. The death eaters probably hid the house. Harry looked around in the dim light of the small flames which still lingered. The cage he had put on Wormtail was intact, and the rat was asleep inside. He saw that the gaping hole in the floor extended all the way up to the roof of the bloody house. What was he thinking. He would be sent to Azkaban. He would be tortured with the sight of his parents dying, over and over and over again. He would be despised by everyone. And he would be abandoned by his friends, or they would be abandoned with him. He couldn't have them make that decision. He had to leave. He had to lead Voldemort away. He couldn't stand himself if they were hurt as a result of him. He could barely apperate now, so travel would be short. He would just have to find a new place to live. Someplace far, far away.
Harry jumped over the gap at the bottom of the main staircase, and crawled up the stairs, cautious just in case the whole place went down. He got to the top of the stairs and entered his room. Another large hole was there. It seemed that his potions had spilled from his wardrobe, and eaten through the floor. He could see down into the garage. Harry took his trunk and threw everything that he thought would ever be useful into it. His fragile broom, his cauldrons, his money, his books. All of his books. His notes. He didn't realize he was crying until the tears dropped off of his face, making it feel cold. His whole body felt cold. He was a murderer. In self-defense or otherwise. It didn't matter. He had killed. He found it vaguely ironic that he had killed the death eater in a way one would assume a muggle would act. Harry slipped his wand into the sheath on his wrist. Hermione had gotten him that. He fingered it fondly. She would just have to understand. He knew she would take it hardest. Maybe he could stay with the Weasley's for a while. No, he said to himself, they'd just come after you there. He would have to tell Spencer he was leaving too. Harry winced as the pain in his back returned in full force. He grabbed a duffel bag and made the inside larger. He would have a lot to carry. Harry made his trunk feather light, followed by the size of a walnut, and slipped it into his pocket.
He went down the stairs slowly, and leapt back into the living room. He had to take the prisoners somewhere, and he only knew of one place. He levitated the corpse of the man in the basement and slowly slid it carefully into the bag. He turned away to throw up again, but there was nothing left for him to spew. He felt as though his stomach was trying to leave his body. He had never felt so sick in his life. His entire body seemed to be torn beyond it's limits. He found the stunned man who he had stunned on the stairs. The man had fallen with the collapsed floor, and was laying down under some rubble in the basement. Harry levitated him into the bag as well. He had made the inside extra large to accommodate his prisoners. He found the third prisoner laying on the ground outside the kitchen. Harry just pushed him into the sack. It was the least he could do. He glanced inside the kitchen.
"Incendio" Harry said in a hoarse
whisper. He tossed all that was left of his floo powder into the flame and
placed himself and the stretcher within the tingling heat. He cleared his throat
and looked around once more. This was a home, and now, it was ash. "Hogsmeade
Station" Harry whispered. With a quick whir he was sucked into the flame, and
kicked out on the platform of Hogsmeade station. He didn't know the time, but
it must have been late. It was dark, and there were very few people there. He
had fallen to his knees upon exiting the floo. He just lacked the strength to
stand at the time. He groaned and moaned as he climbed to his feet and started
his slow march to
It seemed like forever, but Harry made it to the main doors of Hogwarts. He opened them slowly, avoiding any major noise, and slipped in quietly, with the stretcher in tow. He stopped to think of where to go, what was more important, the hospital wing, or Dumbledore' office? He hear a loud voice coming from the closed doors of the Great hall, and he went over to listen.
"My dear students, I apologize greatly for the flood in the kitchen which has delayed your supper, but you must remember, the plumbing here is quite old, and even magic doesn't last forever. I know it is about two hours late for dinner, but I wish you a happy one none the less. Dig in." The voice was unmistakable. It was a late dinner. In all his years of Hogwarts he had never heard of such a thing. He had to speak to Dumbledore. And unless someone seriously injured themselves, Madame Pomfrey would be in there too. There was nowhere else to go. Harry opened the door, hoping to be able to sneak up to the staff table unnoticed. After the slow, long, high-pitched screech, Harry knew it was impossible.
/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/
A loud squeal sounded from the doors of the Great Hall. Naturally, out of curiosity Hermione turned to see who it was. They were late for dinner. The person at the door seemed to hesitate before entering. He glanced around quickly, at least so she thought. She couldn't see his face from under the protruding hood of his cloak, only his eyes. He seemed to notice the silence and kept his eyes down as he ambled forward towards the staff table. He was levitating something behind him, but it was covered with a cloth. He was carrying a green canvas sack on his back and it appeared to be full with whatever was in it. A squeak emanated from the bag, but in the watchful silence, it was not of big concern.
About halfway across the hall, the person looked up, and the hood fell back. It reveal such a hideous face that an unrestrained gasp erupted. His face was caked in blood, except for two thin lines where tears had obviously washed the blood away. A large gash across his nose told of a bloody fight. He had numerous other cuts on his face, and his eyes were so bloodshot that his eyes appeared red. His face was swollen, making him look like he had on a rubber mask. His stride was marked by a subtle limp. He was trying to conceal his pain, but every step he took, the wince on his face demonstrated otherwise.
He stopped at the staff table and looked up to the Headmaster. Hermione saw Dumbledore draw his wand shortly after the doors opened. The blood-faced person pulled the blanket off the levitating cargo, and a shriek sounded from the people nearby. On it were two people, one man, and one woman. They were both quite injured, and they didn't appear to be moving.
Madame Pomfrey stood up immediately and rushed over to the stretcher. With her wand flailing, she checked and rechecked, and tested and examined both of them.
"They're alright Albus, I can have them up in a jiffy" she said breathlessly. She began to tow the stretcher away but Harry grabbed on stopping it. Dumbledore seemed interested, when the person took of his sack and started opening it. "Who is that?" Asked Seamus. He was standing next to Hermione.
"I don't know." She responded, not wanting to break her concentration. The man stuck his hand into the sack, and slammed a cage onto the staff table. In it was a rat with one silver paw. "WORMTAIL!!!" Hermione screamed in hate. At the same time Ron yelled "SCABBERS, I mean. WORMTAIL!!!" Both were looked at like they were crazy. The man wasn't done he lifted the sack above his head, upside down, and three bodies fell out. The girls started screaming, the boys yelling, and every teacher drew their wand. The man seemed unconcerned. He wasn't scared. He seemed like it was trivial. He tossed the bag to a side. "Expelliarmus!" Flitwick had yelled. The spell hit the man square in the chest. His wand went up to the professor, and the man went flying backwards. His body stopped fifteen feet away, but as it had slid, it left a trail of blood. The man stood up again, and was visibly shaking in pain. It was like he was dead already, but had only risen from the grave to do one last thing. He staggered forward and leant against the Staff table. He picked up Professor McGonagal's fork and started poking the screaming rat. He said it in very quiet words, but in the growing silence his words carried to everyone's ears.
"I'd like to introduce you to Peter Pettigrew."
Thank you for reading this far. I saw in the journal news
today that book five comes out in June. Oh, it will be a very nice summer. Tell
me what you think of my story, because I can only better myself when I know
where I am weak, and I am only motivated when you tell me where I'm strong.
That was a scary scene for me to write, I hope it was exciting for you readers.
Wait. I got an Idea, why don't you tell me what you thought of the fight scene,
just leave it in a review. Cough. Cough. Sorry, something in my throat. Hey,
NAPPA, my midterms end the 30th of January. And this time I really
mean it. No more updating until after midterms. Seriously, I mean it. I am
Sirius this time. I swear it. Everyone who reviewed, THANK YOU. You guys make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Maybe
it was just an egg-nog. Close enough. To all you who don't review; the more I
get the more psychologically motivated I am to get the next chapter up quick.
You, know, It's kinda like a drug, and I like it. Happy Reading Everyone.
