Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
Author's note: I originally wrote this in a more chronological order, but felt that a little cliffhanger was in order here. The more you review, the more I write. Now on to my delusional ramblings.
Oh, and *__* means thoughts
Previously: . . . Harry wiped away blood that had begun to drip into his eyes from a deep gash on his head, then jumped as footsteps were again heard on the stairs.
Chapter 3
Just when Harry was about to lose hope, a bright flash of light drew his attention out the window. A globe of shimmering light had just appeared over the trees and was shooting for Harry's window. A glance toward the blurry ground indicated that no one else seemed to see the ball, even though its light bathed the entire area for miles around. Harry dove for the floor, eliciting protest of pain from his entire body as broken bones shifted, as the light shot into the room like a runaway rocket.
It bounced around a few times, ricocheting off the wall and broken shelves, then hovered steadily over Harry, waiting. He stared at it, mesmerized by the beauty, as all the outside noise drained away. Suddenly, unexpectedly, a woman's voice echoed through his head.
"Touch the light." "Why?" he thought back automatically. "If you want to leave here and learn the truth, touch it. Unless you want to wait for Voldemort?" Harry's hand reached out, then paused. "What about my relatives?" The voice seemed to sigh, "Your aunt and cousin will be fine. Your uncle is already dead."
Harry grimaced, then conceded. His uninjured hand passed through the light, and an extraordinary lightness spread through his entire body, and abruptly found himself looking at the room from the globe's POV. It had sucked him up into itself. The bubble floated for a second, then swooped once around the room and swept all of Harry's things into his trunk, which was then sucked up too. Surprisingly the bubble had plenty of room inside.
The globe, with Harry inside, returned to floating, this time right inside the window. The voice spoke again. "You cannot leave until your 15th birthday, so we must wait until after midnight. Yet the Death Eaters must leave of their own accord, thinking their objective is fulfilled." A beam of light shot out, and an exact replica of Harry and all his things materialized on the floor. Harry blinked his eyes in complete disbelief, shrugged and glanced at the bedside clock lying on the floor. 11:53. Seven minutes to go.
Suddenly with a loud crash the door blew off the hinges into the room, followed closely by 2 Death Eaters, who were highly pissed after the booby- traps on the stairs had sent them flying down them more than once. They saw the Harry-image on the floor and chanted "Stupefy!" The real Harry, invisible to their eyes, was astonished to see his doppelganger, with wounds and all, dodge and pull out its own wand, ready to fight. The Death Eaters were clearly surprised, and began to shoot off curses, especially Stunning and the Imperious. The Harry-image managed to stun and freeze both intruders, but the commotion had attracted the other Death Eaters in the house. Harry simply watched with amazement at the battle joining in front of him, his twin able to stun three more before reinforcements stunned it.
One Death Eater pocketed his wand and picked up the "boy", cradling him in his arms carefully, one terminating in a silver hand. All of the robed men left, some floating their stunned companions behind them. Harry looked at the clock again. 12 midnight. With another blinding flash of light, the globe and Harry vanished.
************************************************************************
Voldemort laughed, a high, cold and cruel laugh when he saw his Death Eaters exit the house with the Potter boy lying unconscious in Wormtail's arms. Then he scowled. "What happened to him?" he demanded, indicating the bandages and blood. "Did I not specifically state that you were to take him unharmed?" His followers shifted nervously. One spoke up bravely. "It wasn't us, Master. He was like this when we found him. I, um, I think his uncle . . . beat him." Another man muttered darkly, "Still he put up one hell of a fight."
"Did he? Good." Voldemort considered the boy, then gestured for his minions to follow him to the edge of the barrier. He grabbed one and touched the Dark Mark on his arm, signaling for all the Death Eaters to clear him a path and then Apparate out.
Just as the little honor guard reached the street, they all felt the change in the air. The last anti-Apparation ward had gone down. Voldemort smiled even as pops sounded around them, announcing the arrival of the Aurors. The Dark forces Apparated out, but not before Voldemore laughed at the shocked face of Albus Dumbledore pointing a wand at his face.
************************************************************************
Harry woke slowly, unsure of where he was and not wanting to see what was dream and what was reality quite yet. He had dreamed of a bright light, a woman's voice, a promise, and a sensation of soaring through the clouds at top speed, without a broom. It was so nice, he didn't want it to end. He shifted a little in bed, and a soft, silky material slid against his skin. His emerald eyes flew open. What the . . . ?!
Harry was lying in an enormous bed with sheets softer than silk. The hangings were of a translucent material, but were half open allowing a view outside. The entire room was huge, and the bed was a small part of it. It was surrounded by windows and a skylight in the ceiling let down early morning sunlight. The view out the windows was a breathtaking mix of green meadows, snow-capped mountains, and on the other horizon a white sand beach terminating in an endless expanse of deep blue ocean. *Definitely not on Privet Drive anymore.*
His memory pouring back, Harry gingerly checked himself for the injuries he expected. Instead, all he felt was rested and energetic and strong; he couldn't remember if he had ever felt this good. He also realized his glasses were missing, yet his vision was perfectly clear. One final discovery he made was that his clothes were also missing. Yet he was feeling so damn good that this did not really bother him. Instead, he laid back and sighed contentedly. Soon he drifted off again, the morning sunlight dancing across his face.
*********************************************************************
The satisfied feel Voldemort had upon Apparating from the battle zone quickly dispersed once they reached his new fortress. One second, Wormtail had been carrying an unconscious Harry. The next, Wormtail appeared alongside his chosen master, but no Harry. Instead, his silver hand now held a note, plainly addressed in black ink to Tom Marvolo Riddle. He looked at it, disbelief and astonishment visible on his face. By now every Death Eater had arrived and waited apprehensively in ranks.
Voldemort slowly reached for the parchment, his abnormally long-fingered hands trembling with rage. Picking it up and opening it, what he saw enraged him ever the more. Soon the various Death Eaters were screaming and convulsing under the pain of the Cruciatus Curse as their master vented his hatred, anger, and pure frustration. The note drifted to the floor face-up for all to see.
On the note was a very lifelike drawing of a hand, curled in a fist, with the middle finger sticking straight up.
Author's note: I originally wrote this in a more chronological order, but felt that a little cliffhanger was in order here. The more you review, the more I write. Now on to my delusional ramblings.
Oh, and *__* means thoughts
Previously: . . . Harry wiped away blood that had begun to drip into his eyes from a deep gash on his head, then jumped as footsteps were again heard on the stairs.
Chapter 3
Just when Harry was about to lose hope, a bright flash of light drew his attention out the window. A globe of shimmering light had just appeared over the trees and was shooting for Harry's window. A glance toward the blurry ground indicated that no one else seemed to see the ball, even though its light bathed the entire area for miles around. Harry dove for the floor, eliciting protest of pain from his entire body as broken bones shifted, as the light shot into the room like a runaway rocket.
It bounced around a few times, ricocheting off the wall and broken shelves, then hovered steadily over Harry, waiting. He stared at it, mesmerized by the beauty, as all the outside noise drained away. Suddenly, unexpectedly, a woman's voice echoed through his head.
"Touch the light." "Why?" he thought back automatically. "If you want to leave here and learn the truth, touch it. Unless you want to wait for Voldemort?" Harry's hand reached out, then paused. "What about my relatives?" The voice seemed to sigh, "Your aunt and cousin will be fine. Your uncle is already dead."
Harry grimaced, then conceded. His uninjured hand passed through the light, and an extraordinary lightness spread through his entire body, and abruptly found himself looking at the room from the globe's POV. It had sucked him up into itself. The bubble floated for a second, then swooped once around the room and swept all of Harry's things into his trunk, which was then sucked up too. Surprisingly the bubble had plenty of room inside.
The globe, with Harry inside, returned to floating, this time right inside the window. The voice spoke again. "You cannot leave until your 15th birthday, so we must wait until after midnight. Yet the Death Eaters must leave of their own accord, thinking their objective is fulfilled." A beam of light shot out, and an exact replica of Harry and all his things materialized on the floor. Harry blinked his eyes in complete disbelief, shrugged and glanced at the bedside clock lying on the floor. 11:53. Seven minutes to go.
Suddenly with a loud crash the door blew off the hinges into the room, followed closely by 2 Death Eaters, who were highly pissed after the booby- traps on the stairs had sent them flying down them more than once. They saw the Harry-image on the floor and chanted "Stupefy!" The real Harry, invisible to their eyes, was astonished to see his doppelganger, with wounds and all, dodge and pull out its own wand, ready to fight. The Death Eaters were clearly surprised, and began to shoot off curses, especially Stunning and the Imperious. The Harry-image managed to stun and freeze both intruders, but the commotion had attracted the other Death Eaters in the house. Harry simply watched with amazement at the battle joining in front of him, his twin able to stun three more before reinforcements stunned it.
One Death Eater pocketed his wand and picked up the "boy", cradling him in his arms carefully, one terminating in a silver hand. All of the robed men left, some floating their stunned companions behind them. Harry looked at the clock again. 12 midnight. With another blinding flash of light, the globe and Harry vanished.
************************************************************************
Voldemort laughed, a high, cold and cruel laugh when he saw his Death Eaters exit the house with the Potter boy lying unconscious in Wormtail's arms. Then he scowled. "What happened to him?" he demanded, indicating the bandages and blood. "Did I not specifically state that you were to take him unharmed?" His followers shifted nervously. One spoke up bravely. "It wasn't us, Master. He was like this when we found him. I, um, I think his uncle . . . beat him." Another man muttered darkly, "Still he put up one hell of a fight."
"Did he? Good." Voldemort considered the boy, then gestured for his minions to follow him to the edge of the barrier. He grabbed one and touched the Dark Mark on his arm, signaling for all the Death Eaters to clear him a path and then Apparate out.
Just as the little honor guard reached the street, they all felt the change in the air. The last anti-Apparation ward had gone down. Voldemort smiled even as pops sounded around them, announcing the arrival of the Aurors. The Dark forces Apparated out, but not before Voldemore laughed at the shocked face of Albus Dumbledore pointing a wand at his face.
************************************************************************
Harry woke slowly, unsure of where he was and not wanting to see what was dream and what was reality quite yet. He had dreamed of a bright light, a woman's voice, a promise, and a sensation of soaring through the clouds at top speed, without a broom. It was so nice, he didn't want it to end. He shifted a little in bed, and a soft, silky material slid against his skin. His emerald eyes flew open. What the . . . ?!
Harry was lying in an enormous bed with sheets softer than silk. The hangings were of a translucent material, but were half open allowing a view outside. The entire room was huge, and the bed was a small part of it. It was surrounded by windows and a skylight in the ceiling let down early morning sunlight. The view out the windows was a breathtaking mix of green meadows, snow-capped mountains, and on the other horizon a white sand beach terminating in an endless expanse of deep blue ocean. *Definitely not on Privet Drive anymore.*
His memory pouring back, Harry gingerly checked himself for the injuries he expected. Instead, all he felt was rested and energetic and strong; he couldn't remember if he had ever felt this good. He also realized his glasses were missing, yet his vision was perfectly clear. One final discovery he made was that his clothes were also missing. Yet he was feeling so damn good that this did not really bother him. Instead, he laid back and sighed contentedly. Soon he drifted off again, the morning sunlight dancing across his face.
*********************************************************************
The satisfied feel Voldemort had upon Apparating from the battle zone quickly dispersed once they reached his new fortress. One second, Wormtail had been carrying an unconscious Harry. The next, Wormtail appeared alongside his chosen master, but no Harry. Instead, his silver hand now held a note, plainly addressed in black ink to Tom Marvolo Riddle. He looked at it, disbelief and astonishment visible on his face. By now every Death Eater had arrived and waited apprehensively in ranks.
Voldemort slowly reached for the parchment, his abnormally long-fingered hands trembling with rage. Picking it up and opening it, what he saw enraged him ever the more. Soon the various Death Eaters were screaming and convulsing under the pain of the Cruciatus Curse as their master vented his hatred, anger, and pure frustration. The note drifted to the floor face-up for all to see.
On the note was a very lifelike drawing of a hand, curled in a fist, with the middle finger sticking straight up.