AN: READ THE IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE BOTTOM!
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That evening found Harry heading to the kitchen to scrounge together a suitable dinner for one, as the Dursleys were still out. Harry found this arrangement more than acceptable; it was far easier to enjoy a meal without all the tension that tended to follow him around like a shadow while in number four Privet Drive.
After Harry had gotten over the shock surrounding his completed puzzle, he had gently picked it up off the floor. Upon looking at the back, he discovered a hook on the frame. He took advantage of his relatives' absence and hammered a nail into one of his bleak, white walls. The beautiful phoenix now resided directly across from Harry's bed, where it would greet him every morning with a bit of magic while in the Muggle world.
However, after the glow from the phoenix had faded, so had Harry's happy mood. With nothing to distract his mind, he soon found it wandering to Sirius. He'd never really had the opportunity to be alone since Sirius had died; he'd been with Dumbledore right afterwards, then he'd been surrounded by either students or the Dursleys. With no one else around, Harry had been able to feel the loss of his godfather like a gaping hole inside him.
What he'd assumed to be the sound of his rumbling stomach had finally shaken Harry out of his inner turmoil. He'd sighed and made his way wearily to the refrigerator, mind only partially on the task of making a meal.
Had he been paying a bit more attention, Harry might have realized that his stomach wasn't rumbling at all. In fact, it wasn't until he nearly gagged on the smell of his cooking food that he discovered he had quite lost his appetite for the day. However, the rumbling came again and Harry grew confused.
He shook his head to drive all thoughts of Sirius out of his mind and focused on following the mysterious noise. He was drawn to the front window where he, to his vexation, took a page out of Aunt Petunia's book and peered curiously through the curtain. He didn't know what he was expecting, but he was surprised nonetheless when he saw the broken down car in front of the house. The rumbling had been the choking, grinding engine, which the driver had been trying to turn for the past several minutes.
Apparently giving up, the driver and his passenger, a woman, got out of the dead car and looked worriedly around at the houses up and down the street. Harry now noticed they were wearing coats, even though it was the middle of summer. He saw the two travelers' searching gazes fall onto number four. They then glanced at each other, and the woman leaned in to whisper something to the man. They must have come to an agreement, for the next moment they were walking resolutely up the pathway to the front door.
Harry backed away from the window to wonder whether or not he should open the door to the strangers. In his head he could almost hear Moody's voice reprimanding him for even considering it, what with all the dark wizards in disguise the man and woman could actually be (in Moody's paranoid mind, at least). But he couldn't turn them away, for no one else in the neighborhood was at home right now; many were either working, on vacations, or, in Arabella Figg's case, out doing a chore for the Order of the Phoenix. And while Harry knew next to nothing about the inner workings of a car, he could at least offer the stranded couple use of the telephone to call for a tow truck.
The knock came on the door. Mind made up, Harry crossed the living room and entered the front hall to answer. "Can I help you?" he said to the couple. The man answered.
"Yes, if you don't mind, young man. We're sorry to bother you like this, but our car has broken down," he gestured to the obstinate vehicle. "May we use your telly-fown?"
Harry mentally noted the odd pronunciation of the word, but nodded nonetheless and moved aside to allow them entry. "It's right over here," he said, leading the couple to the phone in the hallway.
"Thank you very much, young man," the woman said, giving Harry a very odd sort of smile; it was almost manic. Harry just nodded and smiled weakly in return. He turned to close the front door, keeping one eye on the two by the phone, which the man had yet to actually touch. Harry wondered if they were just eccentric people, or if they were perhaps more dangerous. He was beginning to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach; he was beginning to regret ever letting them inside. He pretended to shut the door, leaving it ajar in case an exit was needed.
Out of the corner of his eye, he finally saw movement from the strangers–but it was not from the action of picking up the phone. Instead, they each drew something from pockets inside their coats–long, wooden, and familiar somethings…
From a quick surety born from years of Quidditch, Harry's wand was out of his pocket and pointed at the wizard and witch before him. Neither of them held traces of the false cheer they'd displayed previously; Harry knew he was in trouble. He was outnumbered; he knew that even if he managed to hit one of them, the other would have him on the ground before he could even move his wand. Harry guessed that they weren't too keen on attacking him, as they would have done so by now if that were the case. They were at a standoff.
"Who are you?" demanded Harry.
The woman giggled oddly. "Oh, little Harry doesn't recognize us!"
"Ah, well, Polyjuice Potion will do that to a person," the man answered.
"Who are you?" repeated Harry.
"You'll find out in…" the woman opened a pocket watch she had removed from her coat, "thirty minutes, dearie. Oh, wait, you won't be alive by then, will you?" She let loose a scream of crazed laughter that, though it sounded distorted coming from the mouth of the copied woman, gave her identity away to Harry instantly.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," he ground out past his gritted teeth. Sirius's murderer, said a voice in the back of his mind.
"Aw, he remembers me, isn't that sweet?" She cackled again. "But we don't have time for more guessing games, little Harry. The Dark Lord wants a word with you. Two, in fact," she sneered.
"Well bully for Voldemort," Harry sneered in return.
Bellatrix's smile disappeared as she advanced on him. "Shut your filthy, half-blooded mouth! You dare let our Master's name fall from your undeserving tongue?"
"Calm yourself, Bellatrix," said the man, though he looked quite as murderous as she did, if not more so. "We must be wary of him, if you'll recall our orders. He shall be dealt with properly in the hands of the Dark Lord."
Bellatrix glowered at Harry but she relented and stepped back. "Speaking of which," the man went on, sneering, "we should be taking Potter to him now. Wouldn't want any undesirables popping in on this little leave taking."
Harry glared at the Death Eaters, wand held steadily in their direction. "I'm not going anywhere," he said.
"Come now, Potter, we wouldn't want things to get nasty around here, would we?" said the man. "If you come quietly, we won't harm you until the Polyjuice wears off. That's another twenty seven minutes." He laughed softly.
Harry's mind was racing; what could he possibly do in this situation? The last time he'd fought Death Eaters he'd had the prophecy to offer him a sort of protection–the Death Eaters hadn't been able to curse Harry with anything that might have caused him to smash it. This time he held no such protection, and the last time he'd performed illegal magic in self-defense he'd been expelled from school! How long would it take for any help to arrive? Surely the Order would–
Harry's stomach dropped and he fought to keep the blood in his face to prevent the Death Eaters before him from knowing. The watch! It only alerted the Order when unfriendly spells were used on him, not when he was just in danger! That meant he'd have to get the two in front of him to attack in order for help to come.
Harry clenched his jaw in resolve; it had to be done, he rationalized, and surely it wouldn't take long for the Order of the Phoenix to get there. He'd faced worse than two Death Eaters before; this was nothing. His eyes narrowed further. "I'm not going anywhere," he nearly growled, then pointed his wand at Bellatrix. "Stupefy!"
Bellatrix's eyes had only enough time to widen slightly before she was hit in the chest with Harry's curse; she fell to the floor with a thump.
Harry had hardly taken notice of this before the man yelled, "Crucio!"
An all-consuming, torturous, and unfortunately familiar pain blazed through Harry's body as it violently jerked, backing into the door and unintentionally slamming it firmly shut. Every inch of him, inside and out, was set aflame with white-hot fire. The Death Eater would not release him from the agony; every second that passed branded itself into Harry's mind, trying to rip it apart; seemingly from far, far away he could hear himself screaming endlessly…
Suddenly the curse was lifted, and Harry was left twitching and panting on the floor, tears streaming from his pain-glazed eyes.
"Harry! Oh, Merlin, Harry!"
He felt himself being gently pulled up into a sitting position by two hands wrapped firmly around his shoulders. He was once again gazing up into the concerned face of Remus Lupin. "Harry, can you hear me? Say something!"
Why was Lupin so worried? Harry wondered. His mind was so clouded with shock from being under the Cruciatus Curse for such a long time that he couldn't even think or understand anything. "M-Moony?" was all his befuddled brain could force out of his mouth. He was shaking so hard he stuttered.
Lupin gave Harry a relieved smile, but could not hide the worry in his eyes. "Yes, Harry, that's me. Oh Harry, I'm so sorry we didn't come sooner, but the wards around your house–they won't let us Apparate close to it at all. We got here as fast as we could, but you–you were blocking the door. Please be all right, Harry," Lupin's words had grown desperate.
Harry, meanwhile, couldn't grasp a word of Lupin's apology; he could only wonder what he was talking about. He was so tired; he just wanted to sleep. But Lupin went on. "We're taking you to Headquarters, Harry. It's too dangerous for you here, even with the blood protection. If Voldemort knows you're here, you'll never be safe. Here, hold this."
Lupin held out a small object that Harry couldn't make out through his blurry vision. Not having understood Lupin's command, Harry didn't know what to do with it. Finally, Lupin simply grasped Harry's hand and placed a finger on the object. As soon as he touched it, Harry felt a jerk behind his navel and he was pulled through a blur of wind and color, out of number four, Privet Drive.
Harry was dreaming.
He was being pulled somewhere, so quickly, in fact, that he arrived a mere moment after his journey began. His feet landed perfectly noiselessly on the ground; it was as though he'd been standing there the whole time. Before he could look around, however, his legs wobbled and gave out underneath him. He bit back a moan of pain and held his head in his hands in an attempt to get it to quit spinning. His entire body hurt, and every few seconds he twitched suddenly, as though little bolts of electricity were coursing through him.
Somewhere above him, Harry heard a high, cold voice hiss, "Where are they?"
Voldemort, Harry realized with horror; he was in another vision with Voldemort! He looked up and held in another groan, this time worried that Voldemort might discover Harry's presence.
"Th-the O-order got there before they c-could t-t-take him, My Lord," said a familiar short, balding man, who was currently kneeling before the Dark Lord.
Harry saw Voldemort's red, snake-like eyes narrow. "This displeases me, Wormtail."
Wormtail whimpered softly.
"But you failed to answer my question–where are they?"
Wormtail grew even more nervous at his master's quiet, dangerous fury. "The-the Order, they c-captured b-b-both of th-them, M-my Lord."
"And what brought about this failure from two of my greatest Death Eaters, and on such an important mission?" Voldemort hissed, his rage nearly palpable. Harry's scar gave a burst of hot angry pain, and he had to clench his teeth to keep from making a sound. Luckily, Voldemort still had not sensed his uninvited guest.
"Y-y-your w-w-warning, M-my Lord, they w-were af-f-fraid to c-cast any sp-spells on Potter…"
"Come Harry, you must leave now," said a voice by Harry's ear.
Harry jumped and whipped his aching head around, which proved to be a mistake.
"Dirk!" he said in surprise before the quick movement caught up to him; he hissed softly in pain and clutched his head. That could not have been any dumber, Harry thought, half expecting the wizard to laugh at him.
Dirk's face, however, held no traces of humor at all. "You must leave this place, Young Prince, or surely you will perish," he said, glancing fearfully back at Voldemort and Wormtail, who were still speaking.
"You dare to lay the blame for this failure on your master?" Voldemort snarled.
"N-n-no, Master, n-never!" exclaimed Wormtail, eyes wide and almost crying in terror.
"Come, Young One, take my hand, now!" said Dirk, grasping Harry's hand.
"Crucio!" Voldemort bellowed. But before the searing pain could begin anew for Harry, the world silenced and froze. He barely had time to note that Dirk's hands were shaking slightly before the image before him began spinning in a blur of color.
They landed once again at the clearing with the giant oak; and Harry's legs, once again, wobbled and gave out. This time, however, Dirk grasped firmly onto his arm and lowered him slowly to the soft, grassy ground. "Harry," he whispered in relief, "thank Merlin. That was far too close to death for my heart to handle," he smiled.
Harry tried to smile in return, but for some reason his pain was steadily increasing. "Ow," was all he could manage.
"Yes, I'd expect you'd be hurting terribly right now," said Dirk. "This world connects your spirit directly to your body; your other–ah–dreams draw you far away from it. Now… can you remember what happened?"
Harry struggled to recall anything he could through his growing pain. "Death Eaters," he gasped out. "Two."
To Harry's surprise (and slight disgust at the moment), Dirk smiled in relief. "Good, you can remember." Then his smile faded and his face grew serious, sad even. "The male held you under the Cruciatus Curse for more than three minutes. It takes seven to drive a fully-grown wizard mad, and a much shorter time for a younger one. If you were to have experienced more from that vision I found you in, while combined with the scar pain you would have received from having it cast by the Dark One, you may have died."
Harry didn't know what to say, even if he'd had breath enough to speak.
"I've brought you here, specifically, because only you can heal yourself completely from this torment you've experienced today," Dirk continued. "While the Healers of your time can aid you physically, your mind has suffered terribly and can only be healed by your own special magic. You possess many great powers, Young Prince, and you must unlock one of them here, now."
Harry thought his body was suffering quite a bit, actually; Dirk smiled slightly and spoke as though he'd heard Harry's thoughts.
"I know you ache, Young One, but fear not. When you unlock your healing power, all your ailments will mend. Now, however, you must focus."
How could he focus with pain so great he could hardly breathe? Again, Dirk answered the unspoken question.
"You must disconnect yourself from the pain, Young One. Close your eyes. Envision your pain as a cloud of dark, dark red covering your body. Now see it all slowly moving, centering in one area of your body–your hand, perhaps. See the red cloud get bigger and bigger, red from every inch of your body adding to the mass."
Harry could see it, and his hand was hurting like mad; it was exactly as though the pain from all over his battered body had collected in his right hand–a relief for his other parts, to be sure, but his hand felt as though it would explode from the sheer volume of pain amassed in it. Dirk continued speaking in a soft, trance-inducing voice.
"See the red form into a ball; see it get smoother and smoother. Now push it to your fingertip…and push it out."
A silence rang throughout the clearing for a few moments before–
BOOM.
An explosion reverberated through the forest.
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AN: Is that a cliffhanger or just a weird place to end it? Oh well, either works for me.
Anyway, the important stuff: I have some surgery coming up next Wednesday (Feb.4)and, though I highly doubt it, I may not be able to get in another chapter before then. I'll have a week off of school afterwards, but I'm not sure how up to sitting and writing at my computer I'll be, so expect the next two (or three at absolute worst) updates to be a little slow. Thanks for your patients! (Ha, get it? A pun! *silence* Hmph. Well I thought it was funny.)
Next time: What exploded? Does Voldemort know about Harry's mysterious powers? And what's going on back with Harry's body?
Review Responses:
pug320: Thank you, though it looks like you'll have to wait to find out about Dumbledore. And thanks for being a repeat reviewer, you rock!
sillypaulie: Thank you! Here you go, and sorry in advance for the possible tardiness of the next chapters. By the way, I love your name. I don't know why, but I love seeing it there in my review archive!
Monkey, Queen of Insanity: Thanks again, and here you are, madam! By the way, "Harder to Breathe" is by Maroon 5. Yes, I read everybody's profiles.
