Running away (Revised!)
Authors note: I have not been able to work on it. A long series of Events have occurred. Now, most of it should be a darn good piece of writing, because I am a regular writer and write books. None of which are on the market yet, but still... I don't do a lot of revising to my intros. I mainly build off of them.
It was yet another summer day on Privet drive. It was boring, and yet full of suspense for the boy who was slowly walking away from it. This boy was Harry Potter. He had no real family, so he lived with his horrible Aunt, Uncle, and bucket of lard of a cousin. He was hated by them, so he had plenty of time and excuses to get out of the house and walk, wonder, think, discuss, and so on and so forth. Currently, he was pondering about the death of his godfather. Why? Why had he died? He had no one, now. He never really had anyone to call family, until he met Sirius. Sirius was everything to him. He was like an uncle and a friend. He knew his father and Dumbledore and was a very nice person, albeit a bit mischievous. Thinking about this made Harry want to get away from it all. He couldn't take it. It gave him a lump in his throat when he thought about Sirius. It also gave him a fire of anger in his heart. The thing was, once he started thinking, he couldn't seem to stop lately. The boy walked a bit faster, now. He was running. Running away, the more he thought, the more he ran. Harry Potter, targeted by a killer, the most feared killer. Lord Voldermort. He had made his life miserable. Killing his parents and his death eaters killed his godfather. And now, Harry Potter regretted living. He wanted it all to end. And then, suddenly, he fell. He was falling for about 20 seconds. And then he hit his head. He could not remember any more. The dark was eating his vision. He fell unconscious.
He reckoned he was out for about an hour. It seemed someone carried him away. He saw a cave. He was in a cave. And then, he heard a voice. A bodiless voice. It was a voice like a whisper. It was swirling around the room.
"Harry Potter," it whispered.
"Who are you?" Harry asked.
"That does not matter," said the voice. "What does matter is that you need me. You need my help, for revenge."
"How do you know?" asked Harry.
"I know most things," It whispered. "Like how the thing you most desire is the power to kill the Death Eater, Lestrange."
"How would you help me?" Harry cautiously asked. His voice quivered in not only fear, but in excitement.
"I can give you power," the voice replied, "If, you help me, of course."
"Fine. You give me power, I give you help," Harry said, wanting nothing more than to kill Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Thanks," The voice whispered.
"But first, you must show yourself," Harry said.
"Fine." he said with a sigh.
What Harry saw was a demon. A black, evil winged, demon. It carried a sword. Then Harry looked up at his face. He saw a black face, with red eyes. Yet, the more he looked at those eyes, the more he felt he would never stop staring at his eyes. And suddenly, his body was limp. He could not feel a thing. But, he knew he fell to the floor. And suddenly, he felt a ripping sensation in his chest. He felt like another body was trying to fit inside of him. It was more pain then he could handle, yet again, he passed out.
When Harry woke up next morning, he was in his bed at number 4 Privet Drive. He felt, Different, to say the least. Much more powerful. He looked in the mirror. He saw something that made him remember the last's night's events. He saw the demon. And then, he saw himself.
"Harry." said a voice inside his head. It was the demon.
Authors note: I have not been able to work on it. A long series of Events have occurred. Now, most of it should be a darn good piece of writing, because I am a regular writer and write books. None of which are on the market yet, but still... I don't do a lot of revising to my intros. I mainly build off of them.
It was yet another summer day on Privet drive. It was boring, and yet full of suspense for the boy who was slowly walking away from it. This boy was Harry Potter. He had no real family, so he lived with his horrible Aunt, Uncle, and bucket of lard of a cousin. He was hated by them, so he had plenty of time and excuses to get out of the house and walk, wonder, think, discuss, and so on and so forth. Currently, he was pondering about the death of his godfather. Why? Why had he died? He had no one, now. He never really had anyone to call family, until he met Sirius. Sirius was everything to him. He was like an uncle and a friend. He knew his father and Dumbledore and was a very nice person, albeit a bit mischievous. Thinking about this made Harry want to get away from it all. He couldn't take it. It gave him a lump in his throat when he thought about Sirius. It also gave him a fire of anger in his heart. The thing was, once he started thinking, he couldn't seem to stop lately. The boy walked a bit faster, now. He was running. Running away, the more he thought, the more he ran. Harry Potter, targeted by a killer, the most feared killer. Lord Voldermort. He had made his life miserable. Killing his parents and his death eaters killed his godfather. And now, Harry Potter regretted living. He wanted it all to end. And then, suddenly, he fell. He was falling for about 20 seconds. And then he hit his head. He could not remember any more. The dark was eating his vision. He fell unconscious.
He reckoned he was out for about an hour. It seemed someone carried him away. He saw a cave. He was in a cave. And then, he heard a voice. A bodiless voice. It was a voice like a whisper. It was swirling around the room.
"Harry Potter," it whispered.
"Who are you?" Harry asked.
"That does not matter," said the voice. "What does matter is that you need me. You need my help, for revenge."
"How do you know?" asked Harry.
"I know most things," It whispered. "Like how the thing you most desire is the power to kill the Death Eater, Lestrange."
"How would you help me?" Harry cautiously asked. His voice quivered in not only fear, but in excitement.
"I can give you power," the voice replied, "If, you help me, of course."
"Fine. You give me power, I give you help," Harry said, wanting nothing more than to kill Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Thanks," The voice whispered.
"But first, you must show yourself," Harry said.
"Fine." he said with a sigh.
What Harry saw was a demon. A black, evil winged, demon. It carried a sword. Then Harry looked up at his face. He saw a black face, with red eyes. Yet, the more he looked at those eyes, the more he felt he would never stop staring at his eyes. And suddenly, his body was limp. He could not feel a thing. But, he knew he fell to the floor. And suddenly, he felt a ripping sensation in his chest. He felt like another body was trying to fit inside of him. It was more pain then he could handle, yet again, he passed out.
When Harry woke up next morning, he was in his bed at number 4 Privet Drive. He felt, Different, to say the least. Much more powerful. He looked in the mirror. He saw something that made him remember the last's night's events. He saw the demon. And then, he saw himself.
"Harry." said a voice inside his head. It was the demon.