Disclaimer: I don't own any of Harry Potter characters, they are JK Rowling's, hers and hers alone, I'm only borrowing. The hobbit and elves portrayed in this story are fashioned after those in The Lord of The Rings, The Hobbit and The Silmarillion by JRR Tolkien.
HARRY POTTER AND THE LAST OF THE FIRSTBORNS
Chapter 2
THE BATTLE AT PLATFORM 9 ¾
But the platform was empty. There was no train on the gleaming railway that spanned its length. And there was nobody around. Harry's hope of meeting the food trolley lady was dashed. He pushed his trolley along the silent platform, too confused and weary to think.
Then suddenly a dark cold mist emerged out of the empty air. Harry tried to look around but everything was dark. Then there was a cold, shrill laugh. And Harry froze.
He had heard the laugh time and again in his dreams many a night during his vacation. Each time he had woken up shaking and drenched in sweat, his head pounding horribly and his scar burning. But now the laugh sounded so near, and Harry realised he wasn't dreaming at all.
The mist disappeared. The sun filled the empty platform. Only it wasn't so empty anymore. Voldemort was standing in front of Harry.
"We meet again, little brother," said Voldemort in his deep, scratchy voice.
"I…I am not your brother," stammered Harry, trying to sound brave. Slowly he pushed the trolley to his side, so that he was between Hedwig and Voldemort.
"But the blood that runs through your veins now runs through mine too," said Voldemort, his eyes piercing into Harry's mind.
Harry felt his scar pounding. He also felt paralyzed, as though Voldemort had nailed him to the floor. He couldn't move. Slowly, he tried to back away. But Voldemort followed him; his eyes dark, red and evil; his smile cold and menacing.
"I have come, little brother, to finish what I set out to do less than three months ago," Voldemort had reached into his pocket and drawn out his wand. "With you out of the way, no one can stop me!"
Harry grabbed his wand with his right hand and pushed the trolley with screeching Hedwig on it with the other. Voldemort had raised his wand and yelled, "Avada…"
"Expelliarmus!" screamed Harry. "Expelliarmus! Stupefy!"
Voldemort roared in laughter. "Is that all Albus Dumbledore can teach you, little brother? Still the same pathetic spells?"
"Never insult Albus Dumbledore!" yelled Harry, hoping he sounded convincingly angry.
"Well, what do you expect, Harry? Are you hoping that he will come to help you?" said Voldemort in a mocking voice.
"Well, what if he is, Voldemort," a voice said behind Harry. Harry turned. And there, in a thick, quilted red robe and a maroon cap, stood Dumbledore. His silver beard swayed softly in the wind. He was smiling and looking at Harry, making him feel enormously calmer.
Harry looked at Voldemort, and now in the dark red eyes he could see a glimmer of uncertainty and even fear.
"Actually, I'm only here to talk to Harry," said Voldemort. "But since you're here too, let's finish the business once and for all."
He crossed his thin hands on his breast, looked down and whispered something that sounded harsh and evil. A sudden lightning struck the ground and a strong gust of wind came out of nowhere, carrying dust and sand. Then a thick fog blocked Harry's vision, but it soon cleared up. And when he could see clearly again, all around Voldemort, wearing dark robes with their hoods turned up, were Death Eaters.
Harry was sure that Dumbledore was more than capable of beating Voldemort. But Voldemort against many Death Eaters? Surely even a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore would succumb under the attack of so many assailants.
Harry moved slowly towards Dumbledore. He was resolved to stand by and help Dumbledore no matter what would happen.
But the old wizard did not look remotely afraid. His smile broadened and his eyes twinkled. "Well, well, well, a picnic. How delightful!"
He clapped his hands and suddenly there appeared figures in dark scarlet robes. For a while Harry could sense that behind their hoods the Death Eaters were taken aback and panicked. Harry could have jumped around for joy.
"Ah, as I always say," said Dumbledore, "the more, the merrier."
He softly signed for Harry to move back, and Harry obeyed; not too soon because just as he rushed away, and the figures in dark scarlet robes stepped forward beside Dumbledore, the Death Eaters opened attack. A shot of black and red spark flashed, but then one of the scarlet-robed wizard raised his wand and a deep golden light met the black and red spark, and scattered it into many harmless little flashes.
"Run, Harry!" the scarlet-robed wizard whispered urgently.
Harry froze in his track and whirled around. The voice under the hood sounded oddly familiar.
"Lupin?" Harry wondered aloud.
But he had no time to ask, because another streak of blue lightning shot only an inch away from his brow (Harry could smell his fringes singeing) and he ran, pushing his trolley, with Hedwig screeching madly on top of it.
Harry could sense curses and spells chasing him, to be broken in the nick of time by the mysterious wizards hidden under the scarlet hoods. He ran blindly through the smoke and dust, not knowing where to go. He figured he could go back to the muggle platform, but it would create too much suspicion. Still, he could not think of anywhere else to go. Besides, someone had to be in the muggle platform to warn other students from entering Platform 9 ¾.
Out of nowhere a figure in black appeared through the haze. His voice, deep and evil, rose as he raised his wand. A blood-red ball of light came out of the tip, getting bigger, and bigger… Harry looked around wildly, seeking an escape route, his wand pointed tremblingly at the black-robed figure.
"Out of the way, Harry!" a voice came from behind him and Harry turned. A scarlet-robed wizard pushed him aside roughly and Harry fell. The Death Eater stepped forward and swished his wand and Harry could only stare as the great ball of blood red light shot toward him.
The scarlet-robed wizard raised his wand and yelled, "Avert!" his wand spouting blinding golden light. The two lightning crashed and there was an enormous bang, shattering the glass-panes and shaking the walls.
Harry grabbed Hedwig's cage and hunched over it, protecting the bird from a shower of glass and rubble. The Death Eater roared in anger and shot another lightning at Harry and once again the scarlet-robed wizard countered his attack. This time, his golden lightning struck the Death Eater in the stomach. The Death Eater stood still for a moment, then collapsed to the floor.
The scarlet-robed wizard reached out to help Harry stand.
"Get out of here," he said quietly. "Go to the muggle platform and wait till you see Dumbledore come out. Tell the others not to come here."
The voice was familiar. Harry knew he had heard it somewhere before.
A flash of light glared for a second in the dusty darkness. It lit up the face under the scarlet hood.
"Snuffles," breathed Harry. He almost did not believe his eyes. But it was Sirius and he smiled briefly as he pulled Harry to his feet.
"Just bring Hedwig," whispered Sirius. "Leave your trunk and get out of here."
He patted Harry's shoulder lightly, whirled around and yelled, "Snellio!"
Harry could barely see a ghastly purple light hit Sirius' wand and got reflected back at its source. There was a horrible deathly scream, but Harry was already running toward the divide between the muggle and the wizard platforms with Hedwig's cage under his arm.
Just as he was about to reach the divide, a great flame-coloured flash hit the wall and set it ablaze. Harry froze in front of it then turned around trying to find another way out. But right at that moment, something jabbed him at his shoulder.
Harry staggered. It wasn't painful, but whatever it was, it was draining Harry's energy, fast. And it would not let go, like the hook of a fishing rod after it got stuck in a fish's mouth. Harry tried to walk away, but his head was spinning and he saw sparks before his eyes. Clutching Hedwig's cage desperately with one hand, and pulling up his jacket with the other, he lurched toward the burning divide. He could feel the intense heat and the smell of his hair burning. The hook in his shoulder burned and tugged and the pain was so intense that Harry became completely unaware of the searing heat as he rushed blindly into the wall of fire.
CRASH! He thudded into a solid wall and was thrown back.
He was lying in Platform 9 ¾. Alone. It was the Platform 9 ¾ that Harry knew well, neat, clean, though empty. And in the gleaming track along the platform was the Hogwarts Express. Harry didn't remember the train being there when he first arrived in Platform 9 ¾.
The hook in Harry's shoulder had disappeared, but now he felt weaker than ever before in his life. His jacket was burning here and there and Harry took it off. The effort was exhausting and Harry nearly fainted afterward. Still he knew he couldn't stay in the platform, though it looked quite safe and no Death Eater seemed to be around.
Harry opened his school bag which, through everything that happened, had remained slung on his shoulders. He fumbled inside, fighting back the darkness and cold that crept ever closer. He pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and struggled to his feet. Leaning against a pillar for support, he managed to put on the cloak. He picked Hedwig's cage up and shuffled wearily along the platform. It was very quiet. Harry could only hear some wizards laughing and talking in the distance, probably the porters. It looked strangely normal that Harry almost thought he must have passed out from hunger and had a weird dream, if it were not for his sizzled hair and burnt jacket.
Maybe there was a time warp or something, thought Harry, and I'm in Platform 9 ¾ at 10:30, when the battle's over, the place cleaned up and everything's normal again. His head was pounding horribly and his vision blurred. I might as well get on the train now, he thought vaguely, so as not to be left behind. Sirius or other probably had hauled my trunk in; in any case, I don't need to worry about anything. I really must lie down for a while, he decided dizzily.
He got on to the train with an effort, half-crawled to the nearest compartment, plopped himself tiredly on the bench and promptly blacked out.