Harry Potter and the Kedavra Bond

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter world...

Quote:

"And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?" said Harry.

"A bit of old parchment!" said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Harry had mortally wounded him. "Explain, George."

"Well ... when we were in our first year, Harry - young, carefree and innocent..."

Harry snorted. He doubted whether Fred and George had ever been innocent.

"- Well more innocent then we are now..."

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, pg. 145, by: JK Rowling

Harry Potter and the Kedavra Bond

Chapter 2

Harry Potter of Number Four Privet Drive awoke screaming and thrashing in his miniature bed. Harry snapped his eyes wide open. He had just received one of the most frightening dreams that he had the whole summer. Grouping for his glasses on the bedside table, Harry took in deep breaths.

'A dream... it was just a dream..." he thought, rubbing his legendary scar on his forehead. 'But what if...'

Harry's hands shook as he pushed his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. That 'dream' was a really intense vision. Voldemort must be really happy for him to have been able to see that one. Harry brought one of his quivering hands to his scar. Were the Weasleys in danger? He had to contact somebody... anyone. He could write to Sirius...

Stop!

Sirius Black was dead. And for the thousandth time that summer Harry found himself sick to his stomach. It was his fault after all, that his godfather was dead. If only he had listened to Professor Snape, studied occulemency...

If only he hadn't tried to be the 'hero'.

Truth be told, Harry had taken the death of his Godfather very seriously. Eating food didn't really seem as important anymore, he was never hungry so Harry never ate... not that the Dursleys ever gave him much to eat anyway. Actually... ever since Mad Eye Moody, a worker for the Order of the Phoenix, had threatened the Dursleys, they had been treating him very well. For the first time in Harry's life with the Dursleys, he was aloud to watch the telly and he got well sized portions at every meal.

Apart from not eating any food served to him, Harry Potter didn't sleep at night. When ever he closed his eyes visions of Sirius falling through the veil would play in his head. Over and over and over...

Over and over and over...

So, Harry had been basically reduced to a skinny little teenager of fifteen (soon to be sixteen), with dark smudges under his eyes, bones sticking unnaturally through pale skin, and bruises and cuts from 'Harry Hunting' with Dudley and his little friends. Definitely not a perfect picture of the Boy Who Lived.

Harry pushed himself out of bed and snatched his wand from his bedside. As he was throwing off the covers of his bed a bang sounded out with a vengeance. Uncle Vernon came hurtling into the room slamming the door open with a sound to wake the dead.

Harry's Uncle Vernon stampeded into the room, purple faced and huffing. Some people might not think that running a hallway to a bedroom only four doors down from their own is much of challenge. However, Vernon Dursley was not what you would call a skinny man. Harry watched with barely concealed amusement as his uncle's second fatty chin wobbled in his anger.

"What the bloody HELL do you think you're doing up here BOY!?" Uncle Vernon raged.

Harry blinked at his uncle sleepily and shrugged, "I'm not doing anything Uncle Vernon."

"Don't you take that tone with me you FREAK!" Uncle Vernon hissed threw his enormous mustache.

Harry mean while, as his uncle was exiting the room and going on and on about how he, Harry, was now not only costing them money but their precious sleep as well; was trying to figure out what to do about his vision. He glanced over at Hedwig's empty cage in the corner. Of course his first choice would be to send a letter strait to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, but that idea was quickly disregarded. Hedwig had only left at eight o'clock this evening with a letter to Hermione. And it was more than likely, that Hedwig would stay the night.

So who else was there to contact?

Harry's stomach did a funny flip. Well... he couldn't send a letter. And, Harry remembered with an amused snort, the last time the Weasleys had used muggle post. An envelope had been delivered to Number Four, with enough stamps to efficiently send thirteen letters. The only bare spot was filled in with a hastily written address in the corner. In the letter, Mrs. Weasley had written at the bottom: "... We do hope we put enough stamps on...". Harry remembered this event in particular because that was the time when Uncle Vernon had set his new record of turning more than ten shades of red.

"What am I doing?!" Harry thought, giving himself a mental slap in the face. Here he was thinking of muggle post when he had to contact some one!

Wait a minute... Muggles...!

How could he have been so stupid! Harry could use the telephone.

Without a moments hesitation, Harry slid his feet into a pair of his Gryffindor slippers, grabbed his wand, and walked out into the upstairs hallway. The telephone was in the living room, however, Harry made his way kitchen first so that he could get the telephone book. He hastily opened the directory to the 'F' section.

"Figg... Figg... damn it!!! Where is FIGG!?" Harry thumbed through the book and became very disgruntled. Figg wasn't in the phone book.

Well... what did you expect genius? Arabella Figg is a witch... yes, a Squib, but magical all the same...

Snarling in frustration, Harry chucked the small white book at the kitchen wall. But then another thought occurred to him. He didn't only have to call Mrs. Figg to reach her! He could also just walk down the street a ways. Why didn't he think of this before? It was perfect...

Yeah... except that the Order is probably watching the house right now, and I'll get in major trouble if they see me leaving.

That's okay. Then I can tell them about what I saw.

What if Snape is the one on guard duty?

That could be a problem...

And, what if I go outside the wards and get captured by Voldemort?

I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS! Harry thought angrily. Ron could be being captured BY Voldemort right now!

And throwing caution to the winds, Harry Potter bolted to the door and stepped outside. It was actually quite cold outside for a summer night. Everything seemed a bit cold and dreary even though there had been no rain. Harry watched as his breath rose in pearly white clouds in front of his eyes.

All in all the Privet Drive looked deserted. And Harry doubted that anyone was watching the house in this weather. Especially with how early in the morning it was, the sun wasn't even up yet. Harry jogged down the front walk and made it to the side walk lining the street.

I wonder how far the wards stretch...?

Harry set off quietly down the walk, gazing around at his surroundings. If Harry didn't know any better he would have thought that a dementor was around. The air had that cold feeling, and his head felt clammy and...

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside now..."

Harry's wand leapt to his hand without a moments hesitation. Dementors. There were dementors in Little Whinging for the second time in his life. Harry could feel his heart beating twice as fast as it was supposed to and just as loud. The sound was almost deafening, mangled with his uneven breathing.

But where were they? The voices in his head were becoming stronger, more prominent. And Harry was finding the conversations in his head harder to ignore... especially since another different voice was joining that of his parents and Voldemort.

"Aaaaaah... did you love him, baby Potter?"

Harry could hear her. Bellatrix. Her high pitched laugh echoing in his brain, bouncing around in the seemingly quiet night. He screwed up his eyes and tried to block out the voices.

"Come out, come out, little Harry!"

He couldn't remember the incantation. What was the incantation? It was there, he knew it, it was on the tip of his tongue. Just waiting to be said. And he still couldn't see the dementors. How was he supposed to fight something that he couldn't see?

"Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy..."

Harry fell to the damp pavement clutching his head. Something red was impairing the vision in his left eye. He couldn't see anything, everything was black. The voices were increasing in volume, all a mass of screams and pleadings and taunts.

"B-blood of the enemy... forcibly taken... you will... resurrect you foe."

"Please not Harry! Please, take me instead!"

"Bow to death, Harry..."

"Lily, take Harry and run. I'll hold him off..."

"Come out Harry... come out and play, then... it will be quick... it might even be painless... I would not know... I have never died..."

"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything – "

"Did you LOVE him, baby Potter?"

He couldn't feel his wand... it wasn't there. The voices were deafening and he couldn't hear anything else but the screams. Harry cried out in pain as his scar exploded in pain as he felt his head slamming dead on in to the dark pavement and he lifted his right hand to cover his scar which was leaking something wet and sticky. He couldn't open his left eye! It was sealed shut. The pain was burning. He, was burning, from the inside out. White hot knives were piercing every inch of his body. He was screaming louder that he ever had before. The voices were louder... and he was screaming... louder and louder and louder...

The maniacal laughter was ringing in his ears... he couldn't hear, and then green engulfed his vision...

"If death is nothing Dumbledore, kill the boy..."

"NOT HARRY, PLEASE NOT HARRY!"

He was going to die. The pain... he couldn't see anything... something was running down his face... it was wet... the pain. Pain. His scar was still searing, his head was surely going to crack open. And he still couldn't remember the incantation... what was he doing here?

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Harry's breath came in short gasps as he heard the screams and pleadings being distorted into one mess of sound. And the voices and laughter were becoming fainter. Harry cracked open his eye warily at the form of three wizards brandishing their wands at figures in black covered robes. Silver forms were erupting from the wizards's wands, they were chasing the dementors away.

Harry was still lying on the cold clammy pavement. His vision was swimming horribly when his scar seared with pain again and he let out a small whimper of agony. His head was surely going to crack in two.

One of the wizards was walking over to him swiftly. The figure crouched down before him and a small orb of light lit up the stranger's face.

Remus Lupin was crouching down next to Harry Potter, peering into his frightened eyes.

Okay! Well here's another chapter... thank you to those who have reviewed, the responses are at the end of this author's note.

Please tell me what you think of this chapter... it's not my best work because I was a bit rushed.

Saphire Starlet