Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters. I do this for fun.

Warnings: Violence, Language, spoilers for OotP

Archive: FFN

Author's note: This story is a crossover with Neil Gaiman's incredible graphic novels The Sandman. 

The Stormcrow

A harry potter fic

chapter 2

Ride the Lightning

The Harbinger flew before the storm, in the shape of a crow. Three decades and more had passed since a Stormcrow had appeared in the mortal world, and before that, thirty.  

With each beat of the midnight wings, the winds gusted. Thunderheads build up behind the bird, following it like an eager puppy, or a stalking panther. Over thirty years it had been bound to the land, and now it was free to ride the winds again.

Even if it had not been night, very few people would have actually seen it.  Ancient and awful powers surged through its black being, governing its existence.  Made by one of the Endless, it had set out to find its Master and deliver a warning.  And then with luck, fan the flames of Destruction once more. 

As it flew before the storm, its very presence in the mortal realm meant that huge events were being set into motion. Whether the events were fair or foul, no one would know until later when the series of events that had been set into motion were resolved. It would be up to history to judge.

But for now, the Stormcrow was unconcerned. For that is what its original purpose was: to precipitate change.

The steady beat of wings paused as it caught a playful updraft and soared through the night.  Lightning, echoing the miniature brethren born in the Harbinger's black eyes, strobed through the roiling clouds behind it.  If it could have smiled, the crow would have been grinning insanely. It had missed this.

Thanks to the prophecy, it had a general idea of where its master Destruction was. It did not understand why the Endless who had made it had abandoned his realm, leaving all of its inhabitants lost and confused.  But now, maybe the Lord Destruction would heed the message brought by his own Harbinger and return to set things right once more.

Pleased with itself, the Stormcrow banked to the left. Below, cites and towns rolled by, their inhabitants asleep, visiting the kingdom of brother of his Master, the Dream Lord.  The crow lowered its head and beat its wings harder, making the winds howl.  After all these years, its time had nearly come.

The pleased expression vanished with a noise that was as near a scream as its voice could approximate.  White-hot magic shot up the left wing, crippling the power of the crow, making it fall from the sky like a stone.  Mad with pain, the crow fought back, flapping its wings in sheer desperation. Behind it, the storm shrieked in sympathy. 

Little by little, the Stormcrow regained control. But it still was falling, more than soaring, and the night-blackened ground was coming up fast. Eyes narrowed and wings spread wide, the crow landed hard, staggered and slammed heard first into something.

Blackness darker than its own body claimed it.  

Sirius was dead.

And Harry Potter couldn't sleep.

The Durselys hadn't spoken one word to him all the way home after their warning by the Order.  They gave him the silent treatment through supper and never even glanced at him afterward.  They were doing their best to utterly ignore Harry, and that suited Harry just fine, because he was sure if someone said something, anything to him, even the most civil of comments, he didn't trust himself not to explode with rage.

And he wasn't sure that he would get through the holidays without going crazy either.

He didn't know what exactly was wrong with him.  He felt like all his nerves were scraped raw, and electric wires were connected to them.  He wanted to fight, to run, do something that would relieve the excess tension he was feeling, but there was nothing. So he could feel himself getting wound up tighter and tighter.  The four walls of his room seemed to press in on him, and it reminded him of Sirius, being trapped in his house, going crazy too.

He felt like he was going to explode.

As he lay in bed, listening to the distant thunder of the approaching storm, his heart seemed to race in time with the wind gusting outside.  He gritted his teeth, fighting for control, then shot up straight.  "Hell with this," he muttered, getting dressed again and grabbed his wand. He would not stay trapped in a house for his own safety like…like… 

After only a short pause past his sleeping relatives, he was outside and jogging down toward the park.  The activity helped a little.  The streetlights were swarming with night insects.  Thunder rumbled in the distance, a little closer.

He reached the park, panting a little, but it wasn't nearly enough.  He looked around, hoping that something would attack him, dementors, Voldemort, a stray cat, anything.  But the night was still, awaiting the storm.

Gritting his teeth, he allowed his imagination to run wild as he stalked through the park, each scenario more violent and bloody than the last. He mentally tore apart Voldemort, the Death Eaters, Pettigrew, and even Snape, all of them.  In his mind he cursed them, hexed them, jinxed them until they were dead. 

Thunder crashed right above, tearing him out of his reverie.  He realized that he was gripping his wand so tightly that the wood was bending in his palm.  Harry forced himself to relax and breath.  He didn't know what to do; he felt like there was no one he could turn to.  Like there was no one who understood.

Lightning cracked again, and Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as his instincts started to scream. Something was happening, something to do with magic.  His wish had been granted. With a savage grin, he readied himself.

Something hit his leg and that was all the provocation he needed.  Diving to the side, he pointed his wand at what hit him, spells on his lips, ready to attack.

Then he froze…

…and frowned.

There, lying on the ground was a heap of shiny black feathers.

He had been attacked by a bird. 

A crow in fact. 

And it looked decidedly dead.

'Distraction!' Harry thought as he spun around, looking desperately for a target that he was sure had been creeping up behind him while he had been gawking at the (dead) crow.  The night was dark and still, the storm the seemed to be dissipating.  Long minutes dragged by, and nothing happened. 

Silence hung in the air like a noose. Despite his constant scanning he could see nothing unusual in the park, except for the dead crow, he glanced down at it and stumbled back, nearly falling on his backside with surprise.

It was getting to its feet.

Harry blinked.

Then pointed his wand at it and readied a hex should it even look at him funny.

But the bird had made no aggressive move toward him; indeed it didn't even seem to notice he was there.  He watched as it shook its head as if it were trying to clear it.  And then it spoke to itself.

Out loud.

In English.

"That wizard has interfered in my business for the last time," it snarled in a soft, dangerous voice that Harry would know in his sleep. Or rather his nightmares.

"Professor Snape?"

The crow spun to face him, staggering as it moved too quickly too soon after being knocked out, then regained it balance with a brief flutter of it wings. Muted thunder rumbled in the distance. "Potter?" it said, surprise and horror in its own voice evident. "Oh bloody hell."

TBC

Thank you for all the reviews!

Next: explanations and confrontations.

Sio's Death       I hope things are starting to get a little clearer now.  But as the story unfolds, you will get the picture.

Lise carew     Thank you!  I hope you continue to enjoy this.  The Sandman graphic novels are incredible.  I recommend them very highly.

Arwen       Lucius will probably not be making an appearance either.  There are many, many bad guys out there for Severus and Harry to deal with, not to mention each other.