A/n: All right, people, this is a half way decent idea, in my opinion. It came to me while I was listening to the song "Just like you" by Three Days Grace. This is a songfic, but it has a different format from a regular songfic. You'll see what I mean. Anyway, it's a one-shot, and complete the way it is. Enjoy.
Harry lay, crumpled, on the floor of his room in Number Four Privet Drive. The Dursleys had left three weeks ago, basically dumping him out of the car, locking him in the second bedroom, and leaving for parts unknown. He had survived by having Hedwig fly out the barred window, picking up the garden hose, and flying the end back up to the room, which he looped around the bars several times so it wouldn't slip back down. The intelligent bird, after a few tries, had successfully turned the spigot with her claws, causing the hose to spurt to life. She had survived by hunting for herself and stealing food for Harry when she could: out of garbage cans, off of back porches, and even taking hamburgers and buns right off of a grill. That bird is bloody amazing.
I wonder if Dumbledore will actually respond to my last letter, or will he ignore it like all the others? the starving boy wondered while staring out the window, waiting for Hedwig to return from Order Headquarters.
Five minutes later, Harry could discern a white shape flapping slowly towards him, carrying a single piece of parchment. Hedwig landed as gracefully as she could, but the weeks of malnutrition and near starvation had taken its toll on her as well. Harry absently scratched her head as he scanned the parchment.
Harry Potter-
Stop writing to me with petty complaints! The Order is too busy tracking the movements of Voldemort to baby-sit you! I have placed a warding spell on your owl. No longer will she be able to fly to Headquarters, or bother the Weaseleys or Miss Granger with your quest for attention. You are a resourceful young man; you will be fine!
Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.
Harry weakly balled his hands into fists, crumpling the parchment into a little ball. "That bastard!!!" he seethed, hissing in his anger. "Petty complaints??? Starving to death is petty??? I'll show him!" He snatched a piece of lined paper from the desk, as well as a pen.
To whoever receives this:
My name is Harry Potter and I need your help. Please, come get me, as my guardians have locked me inside a room without my wand, and I have had little to no food. I've been here for three weeks by myself in these conditions, and Dumbledore refuses to help. I'll do anything, please, just get me. The address is Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whining, Surry. Please, hurry. Don't bother sending a reply, as my owl can't take much more flying.
Thank you, Harry Potter
"Hed? Could you do one more favor?" he asked gently, holding the hose with a partial kink in it so Hedwig could drink more easily. Finally slaking her thirst, the owl hooted softy. "Could you fly this to someone who can help me?" She bobbed her head and took the paper from Harry's skeletal hand, flying back outside the window.
"MUM!!! Why is the hose running up the back of the house???" woke Harry from his half delirious stupor three days later. Hedwig had been gone for the entire time, and no one had come for him. There had been no food at all, and he was so weak he couldn't even make it to the window to use the bathroom or drink.
"What was that, Duddikins? OH MY, VERNON!!!! THE FREAK WAS DOING MAGIC AGAIN!!!!!! He got the hose up the side of the house!!!!!!!!!!!!" a shrill voice shrieked at top volume. Harry looked out the window blearily, the voices finally registering.
Oh shit, they're back.... maybe they have food.... he thought, swaying slightly from side to side. A few seconds later, he lost it completely, landing on the floor with a muted thump. Nice floor, he thought giddily, just in time for the door to fly open with a crash.
He looked up to see Vernon hulking in the doorway, his face purple. Nice color, Harry thought disjointedly, his eyes refusing to focus. So pretty.
Vernon bellowed and swung his fist, catching the emaciated boy and sending him soaring through the air to crash, ribs first, into the bars on the window. His cheek caught on a sharp edge and ripped open, blood pouring down his face. "Why aren't you dead already???" the enormous man hissed angrily, his face red.
Harry shrugged weakly and started coughing up blood onto the floor. He grabbed his chest, lungs screaming in agony with each labored breath. He ruptured something in me, The Boy Who Lived thought weakly. Vernon strode over to him and dragged him upright, snapping his wrist in the process. Harry let out a gasp of pain, too weak to even cry out as the room in front of him swam into blackness.
"What are you- VERNON!!!!! HELP!!!!!!" Petunia shrieked from downstairs. Suddenly, she was cut off. Vernon paled and dropped Harry, returning him to semi consciousness, sprinting out the door.
"Who are-" Vernon was abruptly cut off and silence filled the house. Multiple treads could be heard coming up the stairs and Harry's lightning bolt scar burst open, sending blood streaming down his face to matching his gushing cheek.
Owwwwwww, Harry moaned mentally, lying in a growing pool of his own blood. The door burst open again, and, amidst the thudding footsteps making the floor vibrate, the smooth baritone of Lucius Malfoy could be heard.
"What the- Potter? He wasn't lying, My Lord. He's starving, and losing blood, and fast. If you wish for us to save him, we will have to do so immediately or he will die."
Voldemort's high pitched hiss reverberated throughout Harry's head, making him whimper and curl into a ball, clutching his bloody scar. The Dark Lord knelt down next to his side and absently stroked his hair with an equally skeletal hand." Well, Potter, what do I get out of saving your miserable life? What are you willing to give me? And, why isn't your headmaster here to save his little weapon? What did you mean by he wouldn't help you?"
Harry raised his head weakly and stared around the room, biting his lip. Finally, he slowly moved his uninjured arm and gestured to the wadded piece of parchment in the far corner of the room. A nameless, black robed figure retrieved it and read it aloud incredulously, his voice climbing higher and higher with each sentence in outrage. After several shocked moments of silence, Harry finally found his voice. "Please, please help me. Get me out of here. He's left me here to die. I'll give you everything- my allegiance, my life, the Wizarding world on a silver platter, just please help me. I don't want to die." Harry slipped into blackness and knew no more.
On September first, Ron and Hermione met at the train station, looking for Harry. Dumbledore had sent them both letters at the start of the summer, telling them that Harry was fine, but unable to write or visit. They would see him September first at the train station. They kept their eyes peeled for their friend, anxious to get caught up with what had happened while they were apart.
They found an empty compartment and kept the door open, waiting anxiously for Harry to walk down the hallway. There was no sign of him, and the train departed from the station. Hermione shook her head. "Maybe he's in another compartment, talking to some rabid fans?" she suggested hopefully.
"Yeah, maybe. You check that way, and I'll head towards the front," Ron suggested, walking purposefully from their compartment.
They looked in every compartment, even the Slytherin's. Hermione stopped by Draco Malfoy's compartment on her route. "I know, I know, stupid Gryff lost her friends," she began brightly, but her face crumpled. "I can't find Harry and I think he missed the train and I'm so worried cuz he hasn't written all summer and my owls returned unopened have you seen him?" she gushed, tears trickling down her cheeks.
Draco stared at her unreadably for a few seconds. When he spoke, his biting, sarcastic tone was gone. "Granger, I can't tell you what's happening. Just know that he's all right. Does that help?" he told her gently, sitting her down across from him in the compartment and gesturing for Pansy to give her a Kleenex.
"I'm just so scared." she said softly, dabbing her watering eyes. "I know what the Dursleys are capable of! They STARVED him second year and Ron had to rescue him!" she blurted out, unable to help herself.
Draco chuckled softly. "Well, we do know where he is and he is safe. You'll see him soon, really soon." he assured her, leading her to her feet. "I honestly can't tell you any more but choose wisely." With that, she found herself in the hallway again, confused, the door behind her shut and locked. With a sad little smile, she went to find Ron.
She found him talking to Dean, getting the same kind of story. "You know where he is, too???" she yelled at Dean and Seamus. "I just got through the same crap from Malfoy!!! No one will tell us anything! We tried to write to him every day all summer!!!!" she yelled, thrusting a wad of unopened envelopes at the startled Gryffindor. "When you see him, give him these, would you?" she asked desperately." Let him know we've been terrified all summer that he was going to die and tried to get him four times. The first two times, the wards wouldn't let us within a half mile of the house. The second two, the house was empty except for the blood in his bedroom," she choked out, crying in earnest.
Dean looked troubled. "The only thing I can say is-"
"To choose wisely," Hermione interrupted. "I know, Malfoy told me the same thing."
They went back to their compartment, both crying softly. Hermione shared her Kleenex.
During the Sorting Hat's song, they dejectedly held each other's hands, acutely aware of the missing person who should have been sitting between them. About halfway through the song, Hermione started to cry softly and reached for a napkin. "I don't get it, Ron- he was supposed to be there! Dumbledore assured us he would! And we tried to get him! Why couldn't we get within a half mile of the house? The wards are to protect him from harm, not keep out his friends!"
Ron hugged her, terrified for his best friend. "I just don't know, Hermione. I don't get it at all. Why hasn't he written, and why did all our letters return unopened? That wasn't like him, especially so soon after Sirius's death. Even thought Dumbledore told us not to worry, I can't help it! I hope nothing has happened to him!"
Hermione shushed him. "Not so loud, Ron! Someone could hear!" she hissed.
Ron stared thoughtfully across the Hall at Malfoy, who seemed to be waiting for something. "Now that you mention it, the Ferret's acting funny, as are most of the Snakes and some of the people in the other Houses. I wonder what they're up to. I wonder who they're- is Harry coming?" he hissed, barely audible, to Dean.
Dean ignored him, but used American sign, nodding his hand softly up and down. Hermione's eyes widened when she saw the hem of a Death Eater's cloak under Seamus's school robes. What is going on???
The Sorting Hat finished it's song, and McGonagall stood up to help sort all the new first years into their houses. The Hat had just placed Welsh, Stephanie into Hufflepuff when the doors burst open, a black hooded and cloaked figure gliding into the Hall. The figure threw back its hood to reveal a teenager with soft ebony hair falling to his shoulders, a lightning bolt scar over his left eye, a deep, newer scar running down his right cheek, and piercing green eyes. Harry Potter stood before them and raised his head, staring at the entire school coldly.
"HARRY!!!" yelled McGonagall happily. "Where have you been?" She rushed over to hug him. "We were so worried!"
He froze her with a piercing look and she backed away, staring at him fearfully. "Ask the Headmaster," he hissed eerily. He turned to face the dumbstruck student body. "It is time." He pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and toyed with it.
As one, seventy students, from varying years and Houses stood. Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zambini, Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Theodore Nott, Hannah Abbot, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas were the first to strip from their school robes, Death Eater Robes underneath, stride to Harry, smirking, the others following in their example. "Command us, Lord," they intoned respectfully. Harry simply smirked and gestured for them to stay put.
Ginny brushed past her brother and stripped her school robed from her shoulders gracefully, walked over to Harry Potter, and dropped to a knee. "My Lord," she intoned quietly. Harry placed a finger under her chin and he smiled, helping her to stand.
"Remus, Severus," he asked quietly, his voice carrying across the Hall nonetheless. "Are you coming as well?" The two of them smirked and stood up, their ebony cloaks snapping behind them as they walked to stand on either side of Harry. The parchment disappeared from Harry's hand and reappeared in front of the shaking Headmaster.
Neville and Luna caught each other's eyes and stood as well, walking bravely over to Harry's side. Harry simply raised an eyebrow as they stared at him determinedly but said nothing, gesturing for Draco to transfigure their school cloaks. He did so and the entire group, over a quarter of the student body, turned and walked out of the Great Hall. Draco turned at the last minute and stared at the Gryffindor table, directly at Hermione and Ron.
Choose wisely, they both thought and made their decision.
Hermione and Ron jumped up, running after the group. "HARRY!!! WAIT FOR US!!!!!" they yelled, skidding to the door. Harry turned around and walked back.
"You know who my Lord must be. Are you sure you want to follow me and my Lord as well, freely, without any ulterior motive? My Lord doesn't take too kindly to spies."
"What about-" Ron asked quietly, gesturing to Severus.
"His loyalty is proven, as is Remus's" Harry hissed, causing Dumbledore's jaw to drop. Severus and Harry both smirked evilly at the flabbergasted Headmaster while Remus chuckled.
Hermione grinned cheekily. "We're the Golden Trio, Harry. All for one and all that junk. Do you honestly think we'd let you have an adventure alone?" Harry smiled softly.
"I had hoped not. I see Draco was kind enough to give you my message. Thank you." Draco nodded, a rare smile gracing his face.
"Yeah, mate, you're stuck with us. Besides, with you and Voldemort teaming together, there's no chance for anyone to win against you. I may not be the brightest, but I'm not stupid," Ron grinned, linking arms with Harry. On the other side, Hermione did the same. They walked out, leaving the rest of the student body and teachers in their wake.
At the Head Table, Dumbledore unrolled the parchment and scanned the interior, his face growing progressively whiter with each line of the oddly written poem.
I could be mean,
I could be angry,
You know I could be just like you.
I could be fake,
I could be stupid,
You know I could be just like you.
You though you were standing beside me
You were only in my way
You're wrong if you think that I'd be just like you
I could be cold,
I could be ruthless,
You know I could be just like you
I could be weak,
I could be senseless,
You know I could be just like you
You thought you were there to guide me
You were only in my way
You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you
On my own, cause I can't take living with you
I'm alone so I won't turn out just like you.
Dumbledore let the parchment drop from white, shaking, nerveless fingers. "We are so fucked."
Lyrics belong to Three Days Grace and are titled "Just Like You"
To the person who asked whether or not Dumbledore would say the F word, that was the challenge my BETA gave me: get Dumbledore to say FUCK. I think he would in this situation.