A/N: This is the first chapter of 'The Betrayal'. I hope you like it :)
Harry Potter awoke in his bed, at 3:25 in the morning, on the 31st day of July. His birthday. Harry opened his tired eyes slowly, trying to focus on the blurry images before him. Forcing his eyes open, he reached for his glasses on a table next to his bed. Slipping the large, circular frames onto his nose, Harry looked around himself at the tiny room.
The white-walled room was tiny, yet half of it was piled with broken toys, from Harry's cousin, Dudley. A small desk, near his bed, was holding his school homework, and several other, unfamiliar objects. In the corner of the room stood what looked like a highly polished broomstick, which it was, and on the handle, the word 'Firebolt' was carved, very finely into it.
Now, one might believe that this was one strange, sixteen year old boy, seeing as his most prized possessions consisted of a broomstick, an eleven inch long piece of wood, and a thin book which contained moving pictures. And they would be correct, for Harry Potter was not a normal sixteen year old. He was in fact, a wizard.
Harry's eyes alighted on his alarm clock on the desk, which read '3:25'. Harry growled loudly, yet soft enough that his relatives would not be able to hear him. Harry's uncle, Vernon, was a short tempered, really fat man. He looked down on all wizards, anyone that wasn't 'normal', for that matter, as freaks. Harry removed his glasses again, placing them carefully back where he had taken them from, and lay back on his sparsely covered bed.
Harry closed his eyes, wishing that sleep would come sooner. But sleep didn't seem to want to come. Harry's mind involuntarily thought of his last year at school. It was then, just a few weeks before, that his godfather, Sirius Black had died at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.
The thought of Bellatrix Lestrange made Harry explode in anger, which Harry tried to suppress. Harry could just imagine Lestrange writhing on the floor before him, the effects of the cruciatus curse, the pain, upon her. Imagining her scream in pain. Immediately, Harry's mind snapped into the present.
"What have I become?" Harry whispered, "Am I just like them now? Enjoying seeing others die? Enjoying seeing others in pain?" Harry felt his anger rise up again, but this time he welcomed it, and yelled, "I WILL NOT BE LIKE YOU!"
Vernon Dursley growled angrily as his perfect dream was shattered by an equally angered shout. Potter. Vernon was dreaming about his riches, money, and cash. All the same, wasn't it? It didn't matter, there was enough money in one room to make Scruge McDuck green with envy. But the dream was shattered, the riches gone. Potter would pay for this.
"POTTER!" He yelled, startling his wife, who, miraculously, hadn't been woken up by the brat. Vernon quickly threw away the bed covers, and rose from his bed. Vernon stomped toward the door to Dudley's second bedroom, which POTTER was using. Well, not for much longer, anyway.
Banging on the door, Vernon yelled the freak's name again, but the door didn't open. Turning the door handle, he realised that the door wouldn't open. There could be only one reason for that.
"THATS IT, POTTER! OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!" Vernon yelled as he rattled the door's handle, trying to open the locked door. The door only had locks on the outside, so how Potter could have locked the door was a mystery. To ordinary muggles. "HAH! YOU'LL BE EXPELLED FOR THIS, POTTER!" Vernon yelled again. Petunia had also gotten up, and was standing behind her husband, glaring hatefully at the door.
"I...didn't...do anything." Vernon heard Potter whisper from behind the door. Vernon, getting angrier, pulled back his fist and pounded the door, breaking it off it's hinges. Vernon looked on with satisfaction at the mess he had created for a second, then turned his attention back to the boy.
"Didn't do anything. Didn't do anything?" Vernon questioned Harry with a glint in his eye. "Well, you just broke the door." He said, pointing his thumb behind his shoulder at the remains of the door. Vernon looked around the room, searching for the white owl that should have been there. "Where is that ruddy bird?"
"I sent him to Dumbledore, with a note." Harry wimpered, his face white. He had, in fact sent Hedwig to the Order of the Phoenix, several hours before, so they wouldn't expect anything had happened to him for another three days. But this statement had the desired effect on his 'family'. Vernon paled, Petunia whimpered loudly, and Dudley, who had been watching, (Vernon hadn't noticed him) squealed and ran in the opposite direction.
Harry smirked at the Dursleys, confident that they wouldn't bother him now. This was exactly the opposite, however. Vernon seemed to regain his composure, and growled, "Well, If they know anyway, we might as well have some...fun." Vernon seemed like a light had just switched on in his brain. "We can even hold you hostage, threaten you for us to get what we want..." Vernon smirked at Harry, whose face had also gone white.
"But Vernon, remember what Dumbledore-" Petunia started saying, but Vernon interrupted her.
"We will still be keeping him, Petunia. So you will still be holding to your pact with that old coot."
Petunia smiled suddenly as Vernon said this. "I also have a good idea." Petunia said, the same glint in her eyes. "You, freak. Can you do that charm on us, and you, that Dumbledore did on...her?" Petunia asked, adding emphasis on the 'her' so that all here would know exactly who she was talking about.
"The fidelius? I don't know how-"
"You will do this...fidelius...on us," Vernon growled, "or you will feel great pain."
"But I don't know-" Harry said again, but Vernon didn't wait for him to finish. Vernon grabbed Harry, and the beating started.
Harry Potter slowly opened his eyes, reminicient of the previous night/morning. The world seemed to be hazy, like a particularly old television, white dots clouding his vision. Harry distinctly remembered at least 5 broken bones, including ribs (3 ribs, left arm, right leg just above the ankle), yet there was no pain, no screaming ache of tired, bruised muscle, nothing.
Harry looked around himself at the darkness, a feeling of fear running through him, 'am I dead?' Harry thought, and pinched his left arm. Nothing. No pain. Absolutely nothing. 'I am dead then...' Harry thought, sighing.
"Friend of Hagrid. You are in need of help, again?" Harry had been looking down, but his head shot up at the familiar, but unwelcome, clicking. In front of Harry stood a huge acromantula, it's legs protruding a couple of metres in all directions around it's large body. Harry knew this spider, he had met him before, three years ago, in the forbidden forest.
"Er...yeah." Harry said, furrowing his brows dubiously. "Am I dead?"
"No, Friend of Hagrid, you are not dead." the overly-large acromantula replied.
"But, where am I? And why do I not feel anything?" Harry asked.
"You are in the Den of Evil." Aragog, the acromantula, replied, a touch of humor in it's voice, "However contrary to it's name, the Den of Evil is a place where only the most powerful of light wizards can attain. The most powerful of all the Realms of Magic."
"And you know this, how?" Harry asked in surprise, staring at Aragog, trying to avoid looking into any of it's eyes.
"The Lord of Magic was able to come here once, and wished my help. He called for me and I was sent here. I too wished to know what this was, yet he would only tell me thus much." Aragog examined Harry carefully, "Only the most powerful, and, or, the most influential of magical creatures can be called here. So forget trying to call Albus Dumbledore."
Harry nodded, trying to take all this in. Harry glanced around as a blast of cold wind blew over him, and shivered. "I wish this was a place a lot more warm, though." Harry said, "But, I believe I must be going."
"Very well, Friend of Hagrid. I will send twenty nine of my daughters and my eldest son to rescue you, and bring you to me, in person." Aragog replied warmly, much warmer than when Harry had last spoken to it.
"Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?" Harry asked, after he thought that.
"So you have noticed? That all my sons and daughters have not gotten to too near you? Except for Agogag, who broke your leg, but other than that," Aragog replied, and Harry had to think a moment while he tried to remember when a spider had broken his leg. "It is because you had killed the nameless beast which we fear, within the castle."
"Great, more hero worship." Harry mumbled under his breath.
"I heard that." Aragog said suddenly, startling Harry. "And it's not hero worship, I have just decided that what meat you have on your bones is not suitable for eating."
"Thanks for that complement." Harry mumbled again, this time aware that Aragog would have heard him. "So how do we get out of here?"
"Just say, 'Aragog, you have your orders, I have no more use of you.'" And I will be sent away.
Harry repeated this, and surely enough, Aragog dissappeared with an echoing CRACK. "Right, now that I have no more use of this place, how do i get back-" Harry said, but feeling had returned to his body, and Harry realised he was standing on his broken leg. Letting loose a loud scream, Harry also dissappeared with a loud CRACK.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making money from this fanfiction. A few of the ideas have been taken from other fanfictions I have read, but many are all mine (although there may be others with said ideas out there, i have no idea.)
The Betrayal, Chapter One: Den of Evil
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