Will the Pain Stop?
Summary: It is the summer after Harry's fifth year, and things are only getting worse. With the dreams of the DoM haunting him all the time, Harry desperately seeks a way to stop something that has already begun.
Disclaimer: The only thing I own in this story is the plot. Everything else belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling, whom I respect very much.
Opening Comments: Well, here is my story. I hope you will all like this. It is kind of dark, but these are dark times for Harry. So, please read and review. Criticism is welcome, but I ask you to not be too cruel.
Chapter One: Broken Home
Harry was riding back from King's Cross with his "family". He stared out the window thinking back on his pathetic life. He thought back on his childhood. Harry had always known that he was different. For eleven years he couldn't quite figure it out. And then he found out the truth. Or at least part of it. He was a wizard.
His "family" had always been mean to him. He never even knew why. And when he did find out, he still didn't understand it. It wasn't like he had asked to be different, or famous for that matter. Harry didn't mind being a wizard. That was cool. It was being The-Boy-Who-Lived that really got to him. He didn't want that. If he could have anything, he would want to have his parents and Sirius back, for there not to be a Voldemort, and for him to grow up with people that actually loved him.
When Harry and the Dursley's reached Number 4 Pivet Drive, Harry pulled himself out of his stupor and got out of the car. He dragged his stuff out of the trunk of the car and up to his room. He didn't even bother un-packing; he just ungraciously threw his trunk in the corner of his room by the little cabinet that was his closet.
"BOY! GET DOWN HERE!" Uncle Vernon's thunderous voice came from the kitchen.
Harry grudgingly got out of bed and went downstairs. When he reached the kitchen, he saw that dinner was ready. At the sight of food, Harry's stomach churned, and he started to leave.
"Where do you think you are going?" Aunt Petunia shrieked.
"If you must know, I am feeling rather nauseous. I'm sure you don't want me ruining the food or anything. So, just leave me alone." Harry left. He knew he would get away with that attitude for at least the one evening.
Harry made his way back to his room and collapsed on his bed. He pulled up the loose floorboard and reached in for the portable CD player and a few CDs that he had stolen last summer from his cousin. He put the headphones on and listened to the angry alternative music until he fell into a restless sleep.
Dream Sequence
Harry was running through the Department of Mysteries (DoM) desperately trying to find Sirius. He finds him, but it is too late…he is falling, falling, falling. And then he is gone. Harry was too late to save him. And then it would just repeat itself over and over and over again.
End Dream Sequence
Harry woke with a start. Cold sweat was running down his whole forehead. He looked at his clock and saw that it was only midnight. He sighed and got out of bed.
Harry quietly made his way to the bathroom. He washed off his face with cold water and looked at himself in the mirror. He hardly even recognized the boy staring back at him. His reflection was gaunt and pale. His once brilliant emerald eyes were dull and haunted looking. Harry quickly looked away.
Back in his room, Harry couldn't get back to sleep, and he really didn't want to. He knew that the dreams would only get worse. So, Harry put on his best fitting pair of pants, button up shirt (left unbuttoned), and tennis shoes. He stealthily made his way downstairs. He slipped out the back door, and made his way around to the front of the house.
Harry looked around the deserted street. He knew that the Order was watching him, but he didn't care. He had to get out. He had to do something. If they followed him, fine. He was sick of caring. All he wanted to do was run. He wanted to run away from all the images in his head. He had to get away for at least a little while from the Dursleys. They were no family to him.
So, with all these thoughts, and many more, on his heart and mind, The-Boy-Who-Lived ran down the street. He ran, not caring where he was going, he was just going. Soon he grew hot, and he stopped briefly to tie his shirt around his waste.
When he was near the play park where last summer he had walked from to meet up with his cousin, and, unexpectedly, Dementors, Harry slowed to a walk. It was then that he heard faint footsteps behind him.
Acting as though he had only slowed to catch his breath (which in part was true), Harry began running again. He didn't stop until he was at the unbroken swing. He sat down and stealthily reached into his pocket for his wand. The footsteps were steadily growing louder. When they were, what Harry estimated, about five feet away, they stopped.
Harry raised his wand from his side and said, "Who's there?"
"Potter, what in the name of Merlin do you think you are doing out at this time of night?" A very familiar voice was coming from somewhere.
"Hmm…you know, that voice is rather familiar. But, I suppose that is merely my imagination. The person I think it is hates me, so, he wouldn't be here. So, I guess I'll just have to curse you. Expulsion really doesn't matter to me anymore."
"Potter, that arrogance is really not becoming of you. Then again, nothing really is."
"Listen, Professor, I am in no bloody mood for your antics. Why don't you just watch me in silence like you're supposed to?" Harry snapped angrily.
"Since when are you allowed to boss me around, Potter?" asked Professor Snape moodily, stepping out from under the invisibility cloak.
"Since I could really care less right now. Why are you here anyway? The Order punishing you or something? Or did you come here to make my life a bigger hell than it already is?"
"We all have to do things we don't want to do at some point or another. Now, answer my question: Why are you out here this late?"
"What do you care?"
"I don't. But it's my job to report it to the others."
"Well, I guess you'll have to go back without that report then, aren't you?"
Suddenly, there was a pop nearby. Harry turned suddenly, wand raised. Snape too was on the defense.
"Harry, what on earth are you doing?" It was the voice of Mr. Weasley.
"That's what I was just trying to find out, Arthur. But the boy refuses to tell me," Snape spat angrily.
"Don't worry, Mr. Weasley, I was just going back home," Harry said indifferently.
Harry turned away from the two adults and walked away. He put his wand back in his pocket and put his shirt back on. He was aware that one or both adults were following him, but he didn't care. He just walked at his own pace.
When he got back in the house and in his room, Harry saw that it was almost three. He lied back down on his bed and put his headphones back on. He fell once again into a restless sleep, with the same dream. When he woke once again with cold sweat collecting on his face, it was six, and the sun was half raised in the east.
Harry got out of bed a half an hour after waking, and then he made his way into the bathroom to take a shower. When he was finished, he went back into his room, where, unsurprisingly, an owl awaited him.
Dear Harry,
It has come to my attention that you left your house last night and went to a park a few streets away. Harry, must I impress how dangerous it is to leave your house after dark? You have many of us here, including myself, very worried. I know that you are upset, but you must learn to control your rashness.
Please reply to this letter. You do not have to go into much detail, but you must tell me why you felt the need to leave last night.
Albus Dumbledore
Harry swore rather violently under his breath as he pulled out a piece of parchment. He wasn't about to tell anyone, least of all Dumbledore, any of the reasons he went out last night. It was no one's business. He wasn't a child. He wrote:
Dear Professor and others,
I regret to inform you that the only explanation I can give you about last night is that I desperately needed some fresh air. Sometimes, people need to get out. They can't just be trapped like criminals. They have to have air.
So, sir, this is all I will tell you. You can keep me in the dark about things, and I will do the same. I am not a little kid, and I am old enough to make some decisions on my own.
H.P.
Harry sent the owl out through the window and watched it fly away. He then noticed that Hedwig was back from her hunt and had a dead mouse in her cage. She was napping fitfully.
Deciding not to wake his animal friend, Harry simply left a few owl treats by her water dish for her to later find. He then walked downstairs where his uncle was leaving for work, his cousin Dudley had already gone, and Aunt Petunia was watching the neighbors out the back window.
Harry, not wanting any attention from his relatives, walked quietly back upstairs. He sat down on his bed and sighed. This was the life he led, and it royally sucked. Deciding to get out of the house and do something, Harry threw on the same pants, shirt (this time buttoned half way), and shoes from last night, put the CD player and CDs in his pockets and set out downstairs and ran into his aunt.
Good thing the CD player is hidden, thought Harry. "What are you looking at?" he asked daringly.
"Don't take that tone with me! I want you to go into the garden and do some weed control. That's all I want, so don't fuss and just do it."
"Fine! Stop treating me like I'm some bloody criminal!"
With this, Harry stormed out of the kitchen and into the back yard. In truth, he was glad his aunt had given him the task. He hoped it would keep his mind off of other things that were bothering him. And she would leave him alone because she assumed that is what he would be doing.
Harry planned on taking as long as he could on the yard. He put on his headphones and set about working on the yard. He was vaguely aware of someone watching him, but he ignored it. He wasn't surprised.
As the day progressed, it got hotter and Harry took his shirt off. He went inside once to get a glass of water. His aunt saw the headphones.
"Where did you get that?" she demanded angrily.
"A friend from my school who has muggles for parents gave it to me as a present," Harry lied easily.
Surprisingly, his aunt didn't reply, and Harry grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and went back outside. Back in the garden, Harry tried to focus on just de-weeding the garden, but his thoughts kept going back to the DoM. To try and drown the memories out, Harry turned up his music all the way. It worked too.
Silently singing along with the music, Harry worked continually on the garden. There were a lot more weeds than he thought, but he didn't care. The more there were, the longer he would be out, and the longer he was out, the longer he could avoid dealing with his memories.
Harry worked even after his uncle came home. When he was finished, Harry went back inside, stiff, hot, and sweaty. He went straight upstairs to take a shower, and then he ate a dinner of a ham and cheese sandwich and some orange juice. He wasn't really hungry, but he felt like he would have passed out if he hadn't eaten anything.
When finished with dinner, Harry saw that Hedwig was gone. Her owl treats were gone, as was the dead mouse. Harry sighed and took off his jeans and shirt. He put on some pajama pants and sat down on his bed with a book he wanted to start: Fear Nothing by Dean Koontz.
He never liked reading school books, but Harry found fiction absolutely brilliant, and he soon lost himself in Koontz's story of Christopher Snow. Harry fell asleep reading, and he was actually met with a dreamless sleep. Well, almost dreamless.
When the sun had almost risen, Harry once again awoke from dreams of the DoM with a cold sweat drenching his face. But there was one new element added to the dream: Voldemort laughing along with a dozen Death Eaters.