~Harry Potter and the Rise of the Dark Lord~
by: LogicalRaven

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Merry Christmas....
I will be going out of town on a ski trip over the holidays so this will probably be my last update for awhile. I know, this and the previous two have been very depressing chapters, but things will start looking up again. There really isn't anywhere else this story can go.

You guys are all amazing, and I really sincerely appreciate all the feedback and kindness of your reviews. I get a warm fuzzy feeling inside to know you guys are honestly enjoying my story.

All the hours writing, obsessing....you make it all worth it...
May you all have a safe a joyous holiday!!!

LogicalRaven*

Read and Review
Nothing is My Own

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The Forgotten Days of Sorrow





Nobody could have expected what the old Headmaster was about to reveal. Nobody could have guessed the magnitude of such an attack. It was unheard or, unthinkable. It was sealed with a solitary threat, that more deaths were destined to transpire.

Albus Dumbledore's twinkle was gone. The hope that once filled his face, was hidden by a longing sadness that could not be erased. His lips quivered as he told his former students words he never wanted to say. His mouth cracked from nervousness, and his body sagging with tired age.

"My students, the news of death has reached our quaint school this sad evening. None of you will go untouched by the events that have penetrated our world. Voldemort has returned, more dangerous and murderous than ever before. The largest attack on the human race, by a dark wizard has been committed this evening, and it is unavoidable that more will follow. I bring my deepest sympathy to those who lost the ones they love," Dumbledore paused, "If we do not rise against this, there is no hope."

Harry stared in disbelief, no hope. He had given up on the prospect of hope when his Godfather had fallen though the black tattered veil. He had given up on hope, when those he trusted betrayed him. It wasn't hope that kept his going, it was the need to make it to the next day.

"Hogwarts is to remain open for now, but the restriction placed upon the students last year, will remain in place. All extracurricular activities such as Quidditch and Hogmeade visit are on cancelled until further notice. The Owl Post will be suspended on everyday but Saturday. Each letter will be thoroughly checked by the staff to make absolutely certain it is safe. New securities have been added to the grounds, and students are forbidden against magical law from trespassing past the posted signs. I cannot express to you the seriousness of these new precautions."

No Quidditch? No Hogmeade? Harry felt a cold surge of anger surge through his veins. He always thought that his last year at Hogwarts would be the most memorable time of his life, now it seemed doomed for misery. Kingley Shaklebolt was sitting stiffly next to Harry with a soured expression on his face.

Harry's monitors weren't thrilled with his obvious disregard for their orders. You never mess with an Auror and their orders. Ginny Weasley still have a look of utter hate imprinted on her face, as she surveyed the Slytherin's table, if Harry could read her mind he would have swore she wanted to use her famous bat boggey hex on the entire Slytherin house.

Those some of the Slytherins had smug expressions of satisfaction written on their faces; A few of them also looked like they were dealing with loss. Pansy Parkinson eyes were swollen and she looked like she hadn't stopped crying for hours. Parkinson little sister, Milly also looked crushed.

Harry wanted to yell at Dumbledore, to tell his old Headmaster, his mentor, how horrible he sounded. Dumbledore was suppose to he inspiring students, but he looked beaten and broken.

Pavarti Patil lowered dropped her head into Harry shoulder, as she tried to fight back her tears. Moments later she lifted her head and gave a heartfelt grunt. Hermione hadn't shown up with Ron. Harry could only imagine how Ron was taking the news of his older brother's death. Dean Thomas looked weak and sick. His dark skin looked loose and pale under the flickering candle light.

"Prefects, please escort your houses back to your common rooms. I need the two Heads to meet with me immediately after the houses are dismissed. Classes will be cancelled for the rest of the week. Students will be permitted to leave for services starting tomorrow," McGonagall said flatly before dismissing the students.

Ginny stood first, waving her hands in the air, motioning for all Gryffindors to follow her, and Harry found himself staring at her off struck by her strength.

"How are you holding up?" Harry asked, as he approached Padma Patil.
She nodded to respond, but didn't voice an answer.

"Harry, Padma," McGonagall greeted.

"The Hogwart's Express will be leaving tomorrow at noon to take students home for funeral services. I need you two to make sure everything runs smoothly. Classes will be cancelled until further notice, and the school is strictly off limits to students during that time. It will take sometime to institute all the new security measures. Until they are in place, the Prefects will escort students to and from the Great Hall for meals," McGongall lowered her head, before turning away without saying another word.

"This is just awful," Padma said softly, watching their Headmistress lose faith.

"Indeed," Dumbledore spoke up, staring off into the night as he stood by the window.

"I'll catch up with you Padma, I want to talk to Professor Dumbledore," Harry said quickly to his partner who nodded.

Harry took a deep breath, he had never seen Dumbledore so beaten, "Sir, is there something wrong?"

"Two hundred and eleven. All of them muggle, muggle born or muggle related. There wasn't a single thing we could do about it. They changed their tactics and none of us could have predicted the viciousness of these attacks," Dumbledore rubbed his eyes behind his glasses.

"How were these attacks different?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore stared at Harry for a moment before taking a deep breath, "Swiftly. The followers of the Dark Lord popped into the victims' houses and murdered them in their beds. Young and old, women and children; None were spared."

"Professor?" Harry said softy.

Dumbledore lowered his head, "I'll see you at the service tomorrow."

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The Hogwart's Express stood glimmering as the noon day sun beat on the surface of the train. Harry sighed as he stood trying his best to fulfill his position as Head Boy, with Tonks standing by his side. She was bitter at him for being so careless about his monitors' orders. Normally she kept her distant, but she felt no shame in standing next to him like a mother next to a child.

"Train leaves in ten minuets!" yelled the train conductor.

Harry sighed, "Am I allowed to sit in a compartment by myself?"

"No," said Tonks instantly, motioning him to get on the train.

"Listen I'm sorry. I honestly didn't mean to desert my monitor last night," Harry pleaded.

Tonk shook her head, "Do you have any idea how much trouble you go us into? Our orders are clear, we aren't suppose to let you out of our sight. I thought we had trust established between us, but apparently there has been a lack in communication ."

"I'm sorry," Harry tired again.

Hermione, Ron , Ginny and Harry sat quietly in a compartment near the front of the train. Nobody felt like talking, nobody felt like thinking. The tension in the room could have been sliced with a knife. Ron occasional would let out a loud sigh and stare out the window. Hermione would then look at him with a lost expression.

The train slowly pulled into King's Crossing, and the students unloaded. It felt so odd being back so soon. Mr. Weasley was waiting at the train station for the group, and soon they found themselves being transported in a ministry car across London.

"How are you kids doing?" Mr. Weasley tried, his tone quivering.

"Fine Mr. Weasley," Harry tried, feeling foolish for saying something so stupid.

The car slowly pulled up to a brick building with busted out windows. It looked like an abandoned warehouse, but things in the magical world are often deceiving. As they walked through the front door the surrounding took those of a quaint funeral home.

Mrs. Weasley was wearing a long black dress accented by a long black robe that clashed terribly with her hair. She greeted the group with a forced smile, a few tears and warm hugs.

"Welcome dears, I was wondering when you would get here," Mrs. Weasley said trying to sound cheerful to see them.

"It's okay mum," Ginny offered pulling her mum into a tight embrace.

Mrs. Weasley let a few more tears escape as she rubbed her young daughter's back. Ron remained silent as he stared up to the front of the room where a coffin and corps of a red boy lay. Harry found himself swallowing hard as he watched his best friend's pained expression, as he forcefully tore his anger eyes away from the sight.

"I'm sorry," Harry heard a whisper from behind him in a voice he had almost forgotten.

Cho wrapped her arms around Harry, giving him quick hug. He couldn't help but notice the scar that still haunted her face, reminding him of the fury and persuasion of the Dark Lord.

"I can't tell you how wonderful of person your brother was," Cho attempted giving Ron a quick hug.

"He was a prat," Ron muttered miserably, pulling out of Cho's grip and walking off.

Harry sighed, "Him and Percy weren't on the best of terms."

Cho nodded, "I can't stay long, I have to attend another ceremony today. I just wanted to be here for you because I know how much the Weasleys mean to you."

"Thank-you," Harry said with sincerity.

Harry let his eyes wander around the room as he saw the people carousing around, talking amongst themselves.

"I wonder what they're going say about him. He was a backstabbing traitor who shamed his family name," Ron spat under his breath.

Ginny held tightly to her mother as she lead her over to where the twins were sitting. They didn't even look like they were in a pranking mood. Fred had an expression of disbelief and George had a look to match.

"How are you Ron?" asked Ron's older brother Charlie.

Ron shrugged.

Harry recognized a young brown hair woman sitting close to the Weasleys and after a few minuets recognized her a Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw girl Percy use to date. She had a look of total fear on her face, and it hit Harry like a ton of bricks. She was muggle born, and putting herself in great risk to attend the ceremony.

"He was a good lad, he just wanted to be successful. It was always so hard for him to live up the expectations Bill and Charlie set," Mrs. Weasley cried, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

Hermione placed a hand on Mrs. Weasley's leg and tried to offer her some silent condolence.

"Harry, where is your monitor?" demanded the voice of Cornelius Fudge.
"I don't think Voldemort is going to attempt to attack me in the middle of funeral," Harry said sarcastically, not answering the ministers question.

The minister grunted, "Well, apparently I need to have a word with December O'Riley about following orders."

Slowly the music started to fade, indicating the ceremony was about to begin. Everyone slowly started to find their seats. Harry had never been to a wizard's funeral, but it resembled a muggle one. Ginny was still being so strong as she kept comforting her sobbing mother.

Harry turned to Ron who's eyes were welling up with tears, his face twisted in anger as he rose to his feet and stormed out of the parlor.

"I'll go get him," Hermione started.

"No, let me do it," Harry said suddenly rising quickly, and making a exit.

He caught a glimpse of Ron's red hair.

"I HATE HIM!" Ron shrilled before finding the floor with a thud.

"It's okay to be angry," Harry tried to comfort.

Ron sneered, "It's his own damn fault. He's a bloody traitor, he wasn't even my brother anymore."

"Thing happen Ron, you know you don't mean that," Harry said, slowly approaching.

"I hate him I tell you. Did you see my mum and dad, their heartbroken because of that bloody bastard," Ron spat.

Harry took a deep breath, "He was your brother. It doesn't matter if you say you hated him not, I know better. You can't dwell on the past mistakes he made, you just have to remember the good times. We all make mistakes."

"You of all people should hate him," Ron said coldly, staring at Harry with tears in his eyes.

Harry lowered his head, "Hate is what killed him. I think we've seen enough death to last us a lifetime."