Summary: Voldemort has begun to wreak havoc upon both the Muggle and the magical world and the Ministry tries to maintain a fragile façade of stability as Harry's mind slowly begins to crumble while he struggles to find the foretold power that will allow him to vanquish his enemy once and for all.
Author's Note: Be warned, this story will be dark, there shall be character deaths and descriptive violent scenes. But just not all things are dark in this world of ours, so there will also be lots of romantic entanglements developing or crumbling throughout the story, however, I shall not reveal who will be ending up with our bespectacled hero, because I don't want any of you to judge this story merely because of whatever prejudices you might have against certain fictional couples.
Read and review!
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Chapter I
A Midsummer's Night Dream
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"Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not.
It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain."
Emily Dickinson.
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The month of July was coming to an end and music was in the air.
An eerie symphony of pleas and screams rose into the darkened heavens as the proverbial boogie-man and his henchmen stole the lives of children and parents alike from under their pillows.
As far as could be seen, everything was ablaze, dark hooded figures were toying around with corpses, humiliating their prey and destroying everything in sight.
However, out of the robed figures one seemed to stand out, a repulsive inhuman creature that inflicted fear upon his minions and enemies alike with his mere presence. The monster's blood-red gaze was fixed on a boy who knelt on the ground, with his shockingly pale blonde hair covering his bent head and his left arm outstretched.
Ashes flew around them, spurred on by an unseen hand, as the creature hissed out barely understandable words in a low tone that was filled with malice and treachery.
"Whose are you?"
"Yours my Lord," said the kneeling figure, without hesitating.
"Would you suffer for your Lord?"
"Yes, I would"
"Would you die for your Lord?"
"Yes, I would"
The blood-red eyes seemed to glitter and the slit that passed for a mouth in the monster's face contorted into an horrible pantomime of a smile.
"Then you shall do so," hissed the creature, as he withdrew one of his thin skeletal hands from within the folds of his robe, with an ancient wand clutched between his abnormally long fingers.
For a moment there was silence, interrupted only by the barely audible ragged breathing that came from the kneeling youth and then came a brief incantation, pronounced by the monster.
"Morsmordre"
The young man, who had until then shown exemplary control, was now clutching his left arm as he let loose an unearthly scream and his nostrils filled with the sickening stench of his own burning flesh. Long thin snakelike lines slithered around his left arm, slowly connecting and contorting until a clear outline could be seen and was then filled with color.
After the mark had been set, the screams subsided, but the ragged breathing persisted and the youth finally raised his head, his nostrils were flared, his face flushed, but his eyes spoke of triumph and greed.
Draco Malfoy then rose from the ground as a fully fledged Death Eater, and at the signal of his Master went off to wreak havoc alongside his fellow servants.
It was the feeling of euphoria that enveloped the foolish young man, which made him deaf to his Master's next words.
"Mine."
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Harry Potter woke up sweating in the high-ceilinged room he shared with his friend Ron Weasley at Number 12, Grimmauld Place; Sirius's old house, which now served as headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix and residence for many of its members.
Harry had fallen asleep fully clothed last night, after a grueling training session with Remus Lupin, who had been helping the youth along with his dueling skills whenever he came around the house.
He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, rose slowly from his bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hands as he took his glasses from a small table next to his bed and made his way out of the room on tiptoe, so as not to awaken his red-haired friend, who seemed to be having quite an enjoyable dream about quidditch from what Harry could make out of his incoherent mumbles.
The corridor outside his room was deserted, and the whole house seemed to be silent for once, without members of the Order coming and going, making reports and attending meetings. He slowly made his way downstairs, taking special care not to make any noise as he crossed the entrance hall; he wasn't in the mood to endure one of Mrs. Black's infamous tongue lashings.
Harry continued his descent until he reached the basement that served as a kitchen, where he began to prepare himself a cup of tea, not because he was particularly thirsty, but because the ritual served to soothe his excited nerves and as the kettle boiled, he would sit and think about the latest in an unending series of nightmares that reflected the true events of the outside world.
This had become a nightly ritual for Harry, who kept the secret of these late night escapades to himself, since it would only serve to worry more the other habitants of the residence.
His last nightmare, however, had left him merely shaken, not surprised, after all, Draco had never made a secret of his allegiances and his father's imprisonment, far from deterring him from his ambition, had merely fueled his loathing of Harry and given him another reason to ally himself with his father's master.
He would have to tell someone about it however, and with the admission would come the questions, they would ask him whether he had dreamed of anything else that could be deemed as important.
Harry sighed, it had already been a month since his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had ended, it had merely been two weeks since he was spirited away from Number 4, Privet Drive and he had not gotten a decent night's sleep, he had bags under his eyes and he was much more quiet than usual, however, Ron and Hermione still acted as though he might lash out at any time, or as though he was made of glass.
He removed the kettle and finished preparing the tea, sipping it slowly, relishing the warmth and letting it burn his tongue, which served to awaken him further. The sun was already rising and a few rays of light shone through the grimy windows at the front entrance.
Harry heard footsteps coming down the stairs; he did not need to turn around to see the descending figure because he recognized the familiar and comforting rhythm of the footsteps. He wasn't caught unawares when Hermione Granger sat down next to him on a wooden stool and he quietly served another cup of tea, which she held between her hands, waiting for it to cool down.
"You're up early," she said quietly.
"I couldn't sleep well," he said, not entering into details. But he noticed the same dark circles that adorned his eyes on Hermione's face; she had arrived at Grimmauld Place a couple of days before him, but it seemed that her parents had fought with her about her magical studies, trying to forbid her from returning to Hogwarts and she had refused to listen. They had even threatened not to pay for her school supplies, Harry found out because Ron told him what few things he could wring from Hermione.
"Dumbledore's coming around today, Mrs. Weasley told me he wanted to speak with you," said Hermione in the same quiet voice she had been using since she arrived, as though the horrors of seeing her family fall apart before her eyes had somehow left her irreparably damaged.
Harry shifted nervously in the wooden stool, recognizing her obvious distress, a better friend would have reached out to comfort her, Harry told himself, but his loveless upbringing had made him reticent and nervous in the realms of human touch.
Hermione noticed Harry's strange behavior but did not comment upon it, however, she was curious about the Headmaster's visit and chose to interrogate Harry. "Do you have any idea as to why he would want to talk to you?"
"Maybe he wants to talk to me about Occlumency lessons, I wouldn't know," answered Harry, extremely conscious about Hermione's inquiring gaze, it was far too hard to keep things from her and he still hadn't told anyone about his rampage through the Headmaster's office or about the things that had been discussed within its ruins. "Anyways, why didn't Mrs. Weasley tell me about it?"
"You were busy sparring with Professor Lupin, remember? And anyways, it was Professor Snape who came to deliver the news; he also said he was looking for some snakeskin left in the drawing room for some kind of potion…," she trailed off, and Harry could bet she was trying to remember any potion which would require coiled snakeskin.
However, his mood darkened with the mention of the greasy Potion's master and he went silent, sipping his now cold tea thoughtfully, while he studied Hermione's figure in the soft morning light, she looked exactly the same as she had when school had let out, except for what seemed to be the ghosts of worry lines in her face, a bath robe hid her slight curves and Harry was suddenly assaulted with the realization of how much he and his friends had aged since they boarded the scarlet Hogwarts Express six years ago. Harry himself was still a bit on the thin and small side, his hair was still as ruffled as ever, but whatever little innocence he still conserved after his horrible childhood had been quickly extinguished in a wizarding world that couldn't make its mind about hating or admiring him. Hermione was still on the small side, but the arrogance that had once adorned her features was now gone, as if she had been somehow humbled by the trials of the past years. Ron on the other hand still towered above both his friends and his personality seemed to remain unchanged, he was a safe harbor for his friends, an unmoving rock that kept them sane, with his jokes and easy going attitude. They made quite a team.
Both friends spent a while in the comfortable silence, lost in their thoughts, before Harry decided to share his newfound knowledge with his bushy haired friend. "Draco Malfoy was initiated as a Death Eater," said Harry, looking at the dregs of his cup of tea.
"So that's why you couldn't sleep," Hermione stated.
"Yes, there was an attack on a small Muggle village, it was horrible," Harry gulped when he remembered the atrocities he had seen, before continuing ", Voldemort stood there with Malfoy, in the middle of it all, he's got the Dark Mark now and everything."
"Was his father there? Or any of the other captured Death Eaters?" inquired Hermione.
"I'm not sure; everyone had their hoods and masks up."
Hermione sighed. "Well, you're planning on telling Dumbledore about it, right?"
Harry stood up, picked up the empty cups and began to wash them before he answered. "Of course, he needs to know there's another Death Eater in the school, and he probably won't be the last to join," he paused before continuing ", do you think he'll be expelled?"
Hermione paused thoughtfully. "Probably not, Dumbledore would prefer to keep an eye on him and at Hogwarts he cannot answer Voldemort's summons after all."
Just then, when Hermione finished talking, Mrs. Weasley came in and gave both of them a light hug as a greeting before taking over the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the five residents of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. "Both of you, be dears and go wake up Ginny and Ron, could you? I don't know how they can sleep until so late," Mrs. Weasley said.
Harry and Hermione both nodded and began to ascend the stairs, tiptoeing when they reached the entrance hall; they kept going up until they reached the upstairs floor, where they separated to wake up their respective room mates. Harry had to nudge Ron around for fifteen minutes before he woke up and then it was simply because Harry mentioned his mother was making breakfast.
"Why didn't you wake me up earlier then?" asked the impatient red haired youth, whose spirits had been roused by the promise of nourishment.
Harry merely turned his back on him and mumbled something that sounded like "lazy pig" as he made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face before breakfast. A few minutes later, when he was drying his glasses on his battered shirt after having washed them, Ron entered the open bathroom and joined him by the sink, beginning to brush his teeth.
He would have to tell his friend about Malfoy's initiation too, but it could wait until later, so he left the bathroom and waited until Ron was done at the door of their room. Both descended the stairs together until they reached the kitchen, which was already permeated by the delicious smell of food, Ron quickly kissed his mum in the cheek as a greeting and then sat down on a wooden stool, with his eating utensils up, waiting impatiently for everyone else to arrive so that he could begin eating. Harry sat down next to him and Mrs. Weasley asked them whether they had slept well, which sent Ron off on a vivid retelling about the dream he had about the Chudley Cannons winning the Quidditch World Cup.
Ginny and Hermione arrived in the middle of Ron's rant and Ginny let out a very unladylike snort when she heard what her brother was talking about, she then sat down next to Harry and greeted him cheerfully, and Hermione sat down across from Ron.
"Mum, could we start eating now?" asked Ron impatiently.
"Yes mum, we better start eating before Ron has an attack," added Ginny, and Ron stuck his tongue out at her.
"Be quiet. We will wait until your father comes down, you know he arrived late last night, Fudge's been very strict since… you know what," Mrs. Weasley finished nervously, nobody wanted to bring up the subject of the battle of the Department of Mysteries with Harry around.
The mere subject of Fudge, the incompetent Ministry of Magic, was enough to make Harry's blood boil, and then Mr. Weasley entered as if on cue, with bags under his eyes that could have challenged Harry's own, his hairline was quickly receding and the hair at his temples had many white streaks on it.
"Good morning kids," he said, with a kind smile.
"Good morning dad," said Ron and Ginny, while Hermione and Harry greeted him more formally and Mrs. Weasley began to fuss over her husband's robe as he planted a kiss on her cheek in way of greeting.
Recent events had taken their toll on everyone's behavior and appearance, Harry reflected, and all the adults seemed to have aged years in mere weeks as they were greeted each morning with news of new attacks and increasing death tolls.
Mrs. Weasley finally made the food plates fly unto the table with a wave of her wand, and sat down to eat next to her husband. Both adults spoke in hushed tones and Ron kept regaling them with the details of the catch of the snitch in his imaginary game until Hermione interrupted him suddenly. "Do you think Dumbledore will bring our O.W.L scores along with him? I mean, they're supposed to arrive during July and there's just a week left to the month…"
"Hope not," said Ron suddenly choking on a piece of sausage, and Harry patted his back "; I don't want to see my score in History of Magic, or Potions in that case…"
"We can say goodbye to being Aurors, we need an Outstanding in Potions to enter N.E.W.T level courses," added Harry.
"I'm sure both of you did well on your tests," said Hermione ", but I'm worried about my results in Arithmancy, there was a problem I couldn't solve and it was worth 5 of the total grade…"
It was Ron's turn to snort loudly. "I'm sure you did well Hermione, don't worry about it."
"Easy for you to say, you don't take Arithmancy after all. Which reminds me; I do hope both you and Harry drop Divination this year."
"We probably failed that one anyhow; I don't think the examiners bought our act" said Harry.
"Did you really think you'd get good marks after saying your examiner was ugly, Ron?" asked Ginny, giggling at the memory.
"It isn't my fault he was sitting so close to the crystal ball!"
The corners of Harry's mouth twitched upwards at the scene and then Mr. Weasley announced he had to leave so that he could arrive at work on time. Mrs. Weasley kissed him goodbye, as did Ginny, while Ron, Harry and Hermione chorused a "Goodbye."
The four friends finished eating and Mrs. Weasley made the dishes clean themselves over the sink with a wave of her wand, they all stood up and went to the living room of the house, where Ron challenged Harry to a chess match, which he accepted out of lack of anything better to do.
They set the board in the floor next to the fireplace and Ginny perched on a close armchair to watch the match while Hermione went up the stairs to seek a book she was reading.
Ron dealt with Harry quickly and then moved on to Ginny and Hermione, who needed a little convincing to play, but in the end she succumbed. Hours later, he ended up playing once more against Harry, and while they were playing, they heard the front door opening and closing quickly.
Moments later, Albus Dumbledore entered the room, dressed in deep purple robes and with twinkling eyes directed towards the four friends.
They all greeted him, although Harry did so a bit reservedly, not feeling anger anymore towards the elderly Headmaster, but feeling a bit of the trust he'd always had towards him had been fractured.
Ron made a motion to set away the chessboard while Ginny and Hermione stood from their seats but the Headmaster motioned for them to sit down with a gesture of his hand. "Please, don't stop on my account. It's been a while since I last saw a good game of chess."
Ron then proceeded to smash Harry into smithereens before the Headmaster's eyes, when he was over, Dumbledore asked to talk to Harry in private for a few minutes and all three friends stepped out of the room, although Hermione looked like she wanted to ask something before she left, but Ginny dragged her out.
"How have you been doing Harry?" asked Dumbledore, sitting himself on the same armchair that Ginny and Hermione had shared.
Harry rose from the floor and sat opposite the Headmaster, on a battered wooden stool. "I've been doing fine, sir."
"You know, Harry. Chess is about more than simply stopping your pieces from being eaten and eating your opponents pieces, such a marvelous game, it's been quite a while since I had a match myself," reminisced the Headmaster.
Harry's eyebrow rose, curious about the subject.
"Oh, yes. I didn't come here to speak about chess. I wanted to know how you were doing and talk to you about a couple of important matters. But first, let me ask you a question, Harry, if you wouldn't mind."
"I'd be glad to answer, sir."
Dumbledore rubbed his chin thoughtfully before asking his question. "Harry, have you ever noticed that you seem to have problems with fairly simple spells?"
Harry was a bit miffed, but he answered anyways. "Well, sir. Everyone has problems with some spells and I don't think…"
"You misunderstand me, Harry. I was not trying to imply you're a bad student. I'm merely curious, because after seeing your O.W.L scores, I noticed you had managed to successfully cast a myriad of complicated spells over the magical level normally associated to your age, but still, you stumbled with more elemental charms."
Harry didn't know where the Headmaster was going with this.
"My point is that I think you may have somehow unconsciously stunted the growth of your own magical powers during your youth, which would explain why you are at times, incapable of controlling your own strength."
"Excuse me, sir. But if what you're saying it's true, should I not merely be unable to accomplish higher level spells, instead of it being the other way around?"
"That does make sense Harry, but I think the effort you put into learning those spells may have been enough to partially lift the block upon your full powers, however, when trying a less taxing spell, you might not put the same effort into it. It's the only explanation I can come up with, that would explain your strange magical prowess."
"So, how would I go around removing this block if it existed?"
"It's not a simple process, or a quick one. But that's where Occlumency comes in. You see, mastering Occlumency will not only prevent your mind from being violated, it would also allow you to achieve a higher awareness of your own being through control, that control could be the key to unlocking your hidden powers."
A sudden question assaulted Harry's mind. "But sir, why would I have unconsciously blocked my powers?"
Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "I fear that is a question you must ask yourself, Harry."
Harry sighed. "If I began practicing Occlumency again, would it have to be under Snape's tutelage?"
"Professor Snape, Harry," corrected Dumbledore gently. "And to answer your question, should you choose to continue practicing it, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would be the one to instruct you."
That piqued Harry's curiosity "May I ask about this new teacher?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I fear you will have to wait until the beginning of the year to find out, it wouldn't be fair to your fellow students if you found out early, but rest assured Harry, that I place the utmost trust on this teacher."
That did not do much to reassure Harry, seeing as the Headmaster had previously been wrong about many things, but he did not wish to bring those up.
"One last thing before I leave, Harry," said Dumbledore, who paused for a mere moment before continuing ", Sirius's death is not being acknowledged by the Ministry, but he did leave a will, and as such, it will be fulfilled to the letter by those of us who know of his innocence. In his will, he left this house to you, and divided his money between both yourself and Remus."
Harry was shocked, but the meaning of the Headmaster's words slowly set in.
"The will is effective immediately and as such, you are the new owner of Number 12, Grimmauld Place and are to do as you wish with the house. So, if you want the Order to leave, I will arrange for Headquarters to be changed immediately," he looked grim now, as if he feared what Harry might do.
"I wouldn't think of kicking you out of my house sir, the Order is welcome to keep using the house as Headquarters," said Harry, not really looking at the Headmaster.
"That is all then, I thank you for your generosity Harry," said the Headmaster as he rose from his seat ", I'm afraid I must be going then."
As he smoothed his robes, he pulled out three envelopes and left them in the seat. "These are your O.W.L scores; I wish you luck with your new classes, especially Potions, Harry." The Headmaster briefly squeezed Harry's shoulder before leaving him alone with his thoughts, and he must have told his friends not to enter either, because he remained alone in the living room of his new house for a long while, with his gaze lost in the ashes within the fireplace, thinking about the miserable life Sirius had suffered through within the confines of the grim place.
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I do hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Feel free to leave either comments or criticism within your reviews.