A/n: Okay, the first chapter is long and a little boring, but I'm trying to write kind of like J.K. Rowling. Plz review me your comments and suggestions! Flames accepted.
Chapter One
The Attack
"Dinner!" Aunt Petunia's piercing call rang through the house, breaking the spell that seemed to be binding Harry to his apathetic trance. He had
taken out his quill and parchment to write a letter to each of his friends, and had paused after writing "Dear Sirius," for the first time feeling as if
he were on the verge of tears. He had been sitting there, staring vaguely at the wall, for at least an hour now, and started at the sound of human speech.
"Are you coming, boy?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered, half to himself. "I'm coming." Ever since the Dursley's had encountered Alastor Moody, an X-auror involved in the Order of the Phoenix, they had been treating Harry with pained normality, almost to be confused with kindness. Aunt Petunia whisked a plate toward him, laden with mashed potatoes, corn, and turkey. The Dursleys had long since given up on dieting for the sake of Dudley; he was not, by any means, any thinner than he had been last summer.
"Where--is--the--dessert?" asked Dudley through gritted teeth.
Aunt Petunia looked a little apprehensive. "The... dessert, Diddykins? You never told me you wanted--"
"YOU MEAN THERE'S NO DESSERT!" Dudley roared, banging the table with his massive fist.
"Well, there will be, son. Go borrow some ice cream from one of the neighbors, Harry," announced Uncle Vernon, his purple face cracking into a smirk.
"What! I haven't eaten yet" Harry responded, clenching his fist under the table. He was working hard to control his temper these days. If he had
listened to his friends last year, Sirius might not have been-- But Harry had been rather unreasonable last year, and he had learned his lesson for letting
his anger get the better of him.
"Excuse me? You can eat afterwards. Go! You can't complain to those people because we're making you do a chore..." Harry rose from the table, keeping
his expression casual, but fuming inwardly.
It seemed that none of the neighbors liked ice cream very much, because none of them had any to spare. He had almost reached Magnolia Crescent before an old woman smiled and asked him how much he needed. Harry told her he needed enough for four people, and he was soon on his way with four coded ice cream bars clutched in one fist.
Harry decided to take a short walk before returning to Number Four, Privet Drive, to provoke Dudley a bit. He turned into the alleyway where he had first seen Sirius. Harry glanced around, half expecting to see a large dog staring back at him. He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing it with its dark fur gleaming eyes. And then he saw it. But no, it couldn't be--!
"Sirius?" Harry whispered. Maybe Nearly-Headless Nick had been wrong. Maybe he had come back to fulfil his duties as godfather. But the mask was not Sirius'. And the wand pointing at Harry was not Sirius'. And the voice that "Crucio" was not Sirius' either.
"Noooo!" Harry fought to remain standing, but soon, his legs had given way and he was writhing on the ground at the Death Eater's feet. Despite his effort to suppress it, a blood-curtling scream burst free of his lips. The curse lifted.
"Who--are--you?" Harry gasped.
"You should know, Potter, as you're the one who put me in Azkaban."
These harsh words had a shocking affect on Harry. If he was Draco Malfoy, this man's son, he would have sneered, but he wasn't, and he just stood there with a slight smile on his face, though his heart pounded in his ears.
"But then, you deserved it, didn't you, Mr. Malfoy?" he said in a voice ful of sarcastic innocence.
"Maybe so, just as you deserved that. Your father would fight back, Potter. Or--should I say--try. You haven't even got THAT much courage, have you?" Malfoy snarled. Harry didn't know what to say. He wanted to fight back, and he had recognized the slur about his father, but he didn't exactly fancy being present at another Ministry Hearing anytime soon. "It's alright, Potter. You don't have to. We understand. Besides, you can't do much, yet, can you? At any rate--" He paused, savoring the affects of his words. "The Dark Lord would like a word, if you don't mind." he finished lazily. "Expelliarmus!" And at the same time, a red light had engulfed Harry, and his scar began to twinge horribly. He let out a soundles gasp as he felt himself fall.
Chapter One
The Attack
"Dinner!" Aunt Petunia's piercing call rang through the house, breaking the spell that seemed to be binding Harry to his apathetic trance. He had
taken out his quill and parchment to write a letter to each of his friends, and had paused after writing "Dear Sirius," for the first time feeling as if
he were on the verge of tears. He had been sitting there, staring vaguely at the wall, for at least an hour now, and started at the sound of human speech.
"Are you coming, boy?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered, half to himself. "I'm coming." Ever since the Dursley's had encountered Alastor Moody, an X-auror involved in the Order of the Phoenix, they had been treating Harry with pained normality, almost to be confused with kindness. Aunt Petunia whisked a plate toward him, laden with mashed potatoes, corn, and turkey. The Dursleys had long since given up on dieting for the sake of Dudley; he was not, by any means, any thinner than he had been last summer.
"Where--is--the--dessert?" asked Dudley through gritted teeth.
Aunt Petunia looked a little apprehensive. "The... dessert, Diddykins? You never told me you wanted--"
"YOU MEAN THERE'S NO DESSERT!" Dudley roared, banging the table with his massive fist.
"Well, there will be, son. Go borrow some ice cream from one of the neighbors, Harry," announced Uncle Vernon, his purple face cracking into a smirk.
"What! I haven't eaten yet" Harry responded, clenching his fist under the table. He was working hard to control his temper these days. If he had
listened to his friends last year, Sirius might not have been-- But Harry had been rather unreasonable last year, and he had learned his lesson for letting
his anger get the better of him.
"Excuse me? You can eat afterwards. Go! You can't complain to those people because we're making you do a chore..." Harry rose from the table, keeping
his expression casual, but fuming inwardly.
It seemed that none of the neighbors liked ice cream very much, because none of them had any to spare. He had almost reached Magnolia Crescent before an old woman smiled and asked him how much he needed. Harry told her he needed enough for four people, and he was soon on his way with four coded ice cream bars clutched in one fist.
Harry decided to take a short walk before returning to Number Four, Privet Drive, to provoke Dudley a bit. He turned into the alleyway where he had first seen Sirius. Harry glanced around, half expecting to see a large dog staring back at him. He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing it with its dark fur gleaming eyes. And then he saw it. But no, it couldn't be--!
"Sirius?" Harry whispered. Maybe Nearly-Headless Nick had been wrong. Maybe he had come back to fulfil his duties as godfather. But the mask was not Sirius'. And the wand pointing at Harry was not Sirius'. And the voice that "Crucio" was not Sirius' either.
"Noooo!" Harry fought to remain standing, but soon, his legs had given way and he was writhing on the ground at the Death Eater's feet. Despite his effort to suppress it, a blood-curtling scream burst free of his lips. The curse lifted.
"Who--are--you?" Harry gasped.
"You should know, Potter, as you're the one who put me in Azkaban."
These harsh words had a shocking affect on Harry. If he was Draco Malfoy, this man's son, he would have sneered, but he wasn't, and he just stood there with a slight smile on his face, though his heart pounded in his ears.
"But then, you deserved it, didn't you, Mr. Malfoy?" he said in a voice ful of sarcastic innocence.
"Maybe so, just as you deserved that. Your father would fight back, Potter. Or--should I say--try. You haven't even got THAT much courage, have you?" Malfoy snarled. Harry didn't know what to say. He wanted to fight back, and he had recognized the slur about his father, but he didn't exactly fancy being present at another Ministry Hearing anytime soon. "It's alright, Potter. You don't have to. We understand. Besides, you can't do much, yet, can you? At any rate--" He paused, savoring the affects of his words. "The Dark Lord would like a word, if you don't mind." he finished lazily. "Expelliarmus!" And at the same time, a red light had engulfed Harry, and his scar began to twinge horribly. He let out a soundles gasp as he felt himself fall.