Title: The Wall
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An alternate universe fic. Sirius didn't kill the 13 muggles. He
only killed Peter, and was released from Prison after only10 years in
there. Then he disappeared. Now, Harry's sparked interest in his missing
godfather leads him to a man who calls Himself 'The Grim.'
A/N: This is one of those stories whose meanings will not ever really be
clear until the ending so don't Flame me for it not making it clear. Thank
You. In Fact, all flames will be used to light a fire under Ron's ass to
get his tail in gear and ask Hermonie out.
The Wall *********
13-year-old Harry Potter slipped down the stairs and into the Dursleys Kitchen. It had been two weeks since Harry had had a decent meal and with the presence of Aunt Marge (not really his aunt, but he was still forced to call her Aunt) he hesitated to sneak down for food. Usually Aunt Marge and Uncle Vernon would stay up late and drink. Another reason Harry hated her visits so much. When Uncle Vernon got drunk, Uncle Vernon got violent.
Harry only had a few bruises. He had been lucky. They were on his upper arms and chest, both easy spots to cover up with the long Hogwarts robes. No one at Hogwarts, Harry's school knew he was being beaten, he had made sure to avoid any discussion of his relatives and nearly panicked when his best friends (Ron and Hermonie) had noticed a bruise on his elbow his first year, he had claimed to have gotten it in an odd fall, but he got the feeling that they never trusted him on the subject again.
He missed his school, his friends; he missed everything about the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry had been orphaned at infancy and had been sent to his horrible, magic-hating relatives. The Dursley's had decided to beat the magic out of him and had since failed. They lied about Harry's parents death, saying they had died in a car crash, this, Harry found was not true. A dark wizard, Voldermort, had in fact murdered them. Harry had gone head to head with him in both of his years at Hogwarts, and had narrowly escaped with his life.
He would have gladly have gone up against two Voldermorts than return to the Dursleys. Harry was actually used to being slapped around by now. But Harry hated having to lie to his friends, but what could they do? If not for the Dursley's, Harry would be in a orphanage. Which was (according to Tom Riddle) worse than the Dursleys. And even though Tom Riddle would grow up to be the man who killed Harry's parents, Harry still took his word for it.
Opening the fridge, Harry grabbed a few pieces of meat and a piece of cheese and added it to bread to make a sandwich. A noise from the hall warned Harry of his Uncle's presence and, quickly stuffed the sandwich down his mouth and began to tip two through the other door in the kitchen witch lead to the living room. Going on the hope that they had celebrated Marge's weeklong visit in the dining room.
No such luck.
"What are you doing down here?"
" Um... going to bed?"
Slap.
" Hey!" Harry ducked another blow and caught a glimpse of Vernon's other hand, which held a half empty bottle of ... something, alcohol, no doubt.
" Don't get smart with me boy. Now what did you do to her?"
"Who?"
"MARGE!"
Harry looked around to see Marge on the couch, a bottle similar to Vernon's in her hand... but it was larger and empty....
" She's drunk ... that's all... she may be out all night... by the looks of it."
Harry avoided his uncle's glare as he slipped past him to get a closer inspection of the women.
" I don't know what she drank, but I'm guessing that it was not intended to be drank all at once... and by one person... maybe you should like... call a doctor or something..."
Smash. Uncle Vernon had smashed his bottle on the table, the bottle didn't break, but it caused Aunt Petunia's small glass trinkets on the table to shake and clatter.
" Are you saying that my sister can't drink, boy?"
" No! It's just..."
Bang. Vernon had hit him again, this time in the stomach. It caused him to loose the small dinner he had just had and he deposited it on the floor.
" Look at the mess you made! You'll regret that!"
...And he lunged at Harry again, but this time, Harry ducked and made a dash for the stairs. He knew that Vernon wouldn't follow him up there; he probably couldn't make it up the stairs if he tried.
"Where do you think you are going?"
" My room! I'm leaving!"
With that he marched, first to the cupboard to get his trunk, the Dursleys looked his school things in there. The door to Harry's surprise, it was already opened, he supposed it was his magic out burst and thought nothing of it as he grabbed his trunk and headed to his room, slammed the door and grabbed the rest of his things. He had put up with this for 12 years! 12! That was 12 years too many! He had held up the St.-what's its story of him going to a stupid prison/school, not complained when they locked him up for no reason and gave him small scraps for his 'meals' and he even managed to hold his temper when Marge, slightly drunk, started to talk about Harry's parents in a rude fashion.
He dragged them down the stairs and looked at Vernon, who was now sitting on the chair muttering things like 'ungrateful brat' or ' little bastard'. As Harry reached the door, his uncle turned to look at him. Harry glared back.
" I'm going to leave now." Harry said calmly.
" And where are you going?"
" Anywhere but here."
" Fine. You just do that. Oh, but just so you know, if you do walk out that door, I will not pick you up from that school train of yours or anything. Do you hear me? If you leave now, I never want to see you or any of your little freak friends again."
Harry felt himself go pale. They couldn't do that. Dumbledore wouldn't let them. How was he supposed to explain to the Headmaster that he 'Didn't have a ride home', or a home, for that matter.
No, that wasn't true. Harry had Hogwarts.
But he couldn't stay there over the summer. Then where would he go then?
The Orphanage.
" You can't do that." said Harry. " You can't. The Headmaster of my school wouldn't let you."
Vernon paused, then....
" Come here, boy."
" No. How stupid do you think I am?"
" I'm going to give you something."
'Yeah' thought Harry. ' A headache.'
Vernon stood and walked to the Dursley's family portrait, which did not include Harry, and pulled it off the wall, revealing the safe they kept hidden. Harry had only scene it once, when he was seven. Vernon had threatened to lock him in. Vernon opened the safe and shuffled through the papers and pulled out a small, wooden box. No bigger that a shoebox, then he turned to glare at Harry.
" This," he growled. " Is yours, we swore that we'd never let you see them. But Petunia wanted to keep them anyway" and he shoved the box at Harry, then he slouched in his chair and took another swig of his drink.
Harry stared at him. He had never scene him like this before. In his experience, Vernon liked to yell and fight while under the influence. But now, Vernon seemed down right calm.
" We opened one of them... had to, didn't know what it was... the first one, I think it was. They're all addressed to you. We didn't open the rest, see if one of these freak friends of yours will take you in. Just don't come back. Do you hear me? DON'T COME BACK!!!"
And with that, Harry turned around, gabbed his trunk and dashed out the door before he could even think about it. He hurried down the sidewalk (pausing to stuff the box Vernon had given him in his trunk) and quickly took off down the street with no real idea of where he was going, what he was doing, or what would happen next.
He didn't see the sleek figure slipping in the shadows of the houses on Private Drive, Following Harry's every move, how could he? This figure was absolutely silent as he moved. And blended in well in his black robes. Of course, it didn't really matter. This strange being was in no way out to hurt Harry, quite the contrary. As Harry paused to catch his breath, the figure pulled out a napkin and wiped his bloodied hands before making his presence known to the young teen in the streetlight.
A/N- So, how did you like it? Did it suck? This is my first fic, so please understand.
The Wall *********
13-year-old Harry Potter slipped down the stairs and into the Dursleys Kitchen. It had been two weeks since Harry had had a decent meal and with the presence of Aunt Marge (not really his aunt, but he was still forced to call her Aunt) he hesitated to sneak down for food. Usually Aunt Marge and Uncle Vernon would stay up late and drink. Another reason Harry hated her visits so much. When Uncle Vernon got drunk, Uncle Vernon got violent.
Harry only had a few bruises. He had been lucky. They were on his upper arms and chest, both easy spots to cover up with the long Hogwarts robes. No one at Hogwarts, Harry's school knew he was being beaten, he had made sure to avoid any discussion of his relatives and nearly panicked when his best friends (Ron and Hermonie) had noticed a bruise on his elbow his first year, he had claimed to have gotten it in an odd fall, but he got the feeling that they never trusted him on the subject again.
He missed his school, his friends; he missed everything about the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry had been orphaned at infancy and had been sent to his horrible, magic-hating relatives. The Dursley's had decided to beat the magic out of him and had since failed. They lied about Harry's parents death, saying they had died in a car crash, this, Harry found was not true. A dark wizard, Voldermort, had in fact murdered them. Harry had gone head to head with him in both of his years at Hogwarts, and had narrowly escaped with his life.
He would have gladly have gone up against two Voldermorts than return to the Dursleys. Harry was actually used to being slapped around by now. But Harry hated having to lie to his friends, but what could they do? If not for the Dursley's, Harry would be in a orphanage. Which was (according to Tom Riddle) worse than the Dursleys. And even though Tom Riddle would grow up to be the man who killed Harry's parents, Harry still took his word for it.
Opening the fridge, Harry grabbed a few pieces of meat and a piece of cheese and added it to bread to make a sandwich. A noise from the hall warned Harry of his Uncle's presence and, quickly stuffed the sandwich down his mouth and began to tip two through the other door in the kitchen witch lead to the living room. Going on the hope that they had celebrated Marge's weeklong visit in the dining room.
No such luck.
"What are you doing down here?"
" Um... going to bed?"
Slap.
" Hey!" Harry ducked another blow and caught a glimpse of Vernon's other hand, which held a half empty bottle of ... something, alcohol, no doubt.
" Don't get smart with me boy. Now what did you do to her?"
"Who?"
"MARGE!"
Harry looked around to see Marge on the couch, a bottle similar to Vernon's in her hand... but it was larger and empty....
" She's drunk ... that's all... she may be out all night... by the looks of it."
Harry avoided his uncle's glare as he slipped past him to get a closer inspection of the women.
" I don't know what she drank, but I'm guessing that it was not intended to be drank all at once... and by one person... maybe you should like... call a doctor or something..."
Smash. Uncle Vernon had smashed his bottle on the table, the bottle didn't break, but it caused Aunt Petunia's small glass trinkets on the table to shake and clatter.
" Are you saying that my sister can't drink, boy?"
" No! It's just..."
Bang. Vernon had hit him again, this time in the stomach. It caused him to loose the small dinner he had just had and he deposited it on the floor.
" Look at the mess you made! You'll regret that!"
...And he lunged at Harry again, but this time, Harry ducked and made a dash for the stairs. He knew that Vernon wouldn't follow him up there; he probably couldn't make it up the stairs if he tried.
"Where do you think you are going?"
" My room! I'm leaving!"
With that he marched, first to the cupboard to get his trunk, the Dursleys looked his school things in there. The door to Harry's surprise, it was already opened, he supposed it was his magic out burst and thought nothing of it as he grabbed his trunk and headed to his room, slammed the door and grabbed the rest of his things. He had put up with this for 12 years! 12! That was 12 years too many! He had held up the St.-what's its story of him going to a stupid prison/school, not complained when they locked him up for no reason and gave him small scraps for his 'meals' and he even managed to hold his temper when Marge, slightly drunk, started to talk about Harry's parents in a rude fashion.
He dragged them down the stairs and looked at Vernon, who was now sitting on the chair muttering things like 'ungrateful brat' or ' little bastard'. As Harry reached the door, his uncle turned to look at him. Harry glared back.
" I'm going to leave now." Harry said calmly.
" And where are you going?"
" Anywhere but here."
" Fine. You just do that. Oh, but just so you know, if you do walk out that door, I will not pick you up from that school train of yours or anything. Do you hear me? If you leave now, I never want to see you or any of your little freak friends again."
Harry felt himself go pale. They couldn't do that. Dumbledore wouldn't let them. How was he supposed to explain to the Headmaster that he 'Didn't have a ride home', or a home, for that matter.
No, that wasn't true. Harry had Hogwarts.
But he couldn't stay there over the summer. Then where would he go then?
The Orphanage.
" You can't do that." said Harry. " You can't. The Headmaster of my school wouldn't let you."
Vernon paused, then....
" Come here, boy."
" No. How stupid do you think I am?"
" I'm going to give you something."
'Yeah' thought Harry. ' A headache.'
Vernon stood and walked to the Dursley's family portrait, which did not include Harry, and pulled it off the wall, revealing the safe they kept hidden. Harry had only scene it once, when he was seven. Vernon had threatened to lock him in. Vernon opened the safe and shuffled through the papers and pulled out a small, wooden box. No bigger that a shoebox, then he turned to glare at Harry.
" This," he growled. " Is yours, we swore that we'd never let you see them. But Petunia wanted to keep them anyway" and he shoved the box at Harry, then he slouched in his chair and took another swig of his drink.
Harry stared at him. He had never scene him like this before. In his experience, Vernon liked to yell and fight while under the influence. But now, Vernon seemed down right calm.
" We opened one of them... had to, didn't know what it was... the first one, I think it was. They're all addressed to you. We didn't open the rest, see if one of these freak friends of yours will take you in. Just don't come back. Do you hear me? DON'T COME BACK!!!"
And with that, Harry turned around, gabbed his trunk and dashed out the door before he could even think about it. He hurried down the sidewalk (pausing to stuff the box Vernon had given him in his trunk) and quickly took off down the street with no real idea of where he was going, what he was doing, or what would happen next.
He didn't see the sleek figure slipping in the shadows of the houses on Private Drive, Following Harry's every move, how could he? This figure was absolutely silent as he moved. And blended in well in his black robes. Of course, it didn't really matter. This strange being was in no way out to hurt Harry, quite the contrary. As Harry paused to catch his breath, the figure pulled out a napkin and wiped his bloodied hands before making his presence known to the young teen in the streetlight.
A/N- So, how did you like it? Did it suck? This is my first fic, so please understand.