7th year. Harry's downfall or victory might come to a higher price than anyone had suspected. Is leaving sanity behind the best? Or would it be fighting with all your heart? But then, does he really have a choice? Hr/H chap1: BloodGuns

Chapter 1: Blood and Guns

All seemed normal over Little Whinging, Surrey: the lampposts illuminated the small neat patches of grass in front of every house while the sky above stayed dark. Only a couple of stars were faintly visible. Everyone was asleep, awaiting the next morning where they would get up and go about their busy lives once more. Everyone except Harry, sitting in his room on the first floor in 4 Private Drive.

Harry sat silently, looking out of his window onto the back garden, waiting for his owl to arrive with the post. He had his glasses in his hand, twirling them around without really noticing.

Hedwig swooped through the open window with a package and the Sunday Wizard grasped in her claws. She dropped both on the desk. Harry stroked her head to thank her after have put his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and then gave her some grain as reward. He picked up the package. It was from Hagrid, his half giant friend who'd come to rescue Harry from his Muggle family on a stormy night, precisely six years ago. The writing had a distinct wobbling. He read it thoughtfully, a small crevasse in his forehead forming as he went through the letter.

Harry was quick to open the package. He held out the present: it was a small orb, no bigger than a snitch, pearly white. He frowned, examining it in the poor moonlight (he didn't risk switching the light and having to deal with his uncle if he woke up). It was magical, of course, it couldn't be anything else. Harry grabbed a sock and stuffed the orb inside, carefully lying it down in his school trunk. He didn't want his uncle or aunt falling on it, or taking the risk of having it broken. It was way to precious to be wasted away.

Today was the thirty-first of July, Harry's birthday. Ron had sent him a poster of the Chudley Cannons, who, at the moment, were swirling in and out of the frame. A wizard suddenly flew into view, waving his arm at Harry, before disappearing with a "Go Cannons!" A distinct muttering came from the next-door room in response.

He'd been waiting for a letter from Hermione all summer. Ron had told him she'd gone to Bulgaria, to See Viktor Krum, the famous seeker in the Bulgarian national team. He'd also added something like: "Forget about friends for that Vikky…" However, Harry worried for her. Was there another reason why she wasn't writing to Harry?

Harry had been cooped up all summer; he'd been refused all trips to Ron's for his own safety. Dumbledore would sometimes send a brief note, no more than three lines on a piece of manuscript, asking him to stay out of trouble and keep close to the Dursley's house. Last term's 'accidents' as the Daily Prophet liked to put it, was slowly eating away Harry's mind.

Harry didn't dream anymore, all he saw while he slept was a black void, there were no more nightmares with the help of Occlumency. Except for once, where in a dark chamber, a tortured voice spoke.

It was damp and cold, the walls rotting away in their decay, just like the corpses that lay on the ground, rats scratching over the stone floor. It was completely dark, no natural light shone, dark except for two red dots for eyes that danced in the blackness of the Dungeons, giving away Voldemort's presence. The place would have frozen a man to the bone, but not the Dark Lord, no pity, no love would ever make that heart melt (did he even have a heart? No humanity seemed to be left.)

Chains rattle slightly, a prisoner shifting slowly. A sly voice spoke from the shadows to the Dark Lord: "Blood of Potter, sweet blood of Potter will spill. The boy WILL be destroyed. I assure you, My Lord. I tell you no lies."

A dreadful hiss echoed throughout the cell, and Harry knew that it was pleasure.

It had been very brief with unimportant details. Harry had refused to think about it farther over it. Of course, it would come as no surprise that Voldemort would try to kill him, again… But would he survive the attack? Would his friends survive? Harry had finally come to think of himself as Voldemort's murderer. If no one could do it for him, he would be the last wall standing against the Dark Lord. In other ways, Harry's days were forfeit.

Harry sighed. He wished everything could stop, all the stress, pain, his connection with Voldemort, he just wanted to rest…. However, he was not any Harry, he was Harry POTTER. That name brought more trouble and fame than he'd ever wished. It would bring Death along in the unusual trip that was his life.

And then he was furious with Dumbledore … He was left in the dark with the whole affair, even though Harry was in the middle of it. The Wizard Newspaper had stayed quite on any more attacks, even though it had many tips and interviews which had for subject Self Defense, publicity for '1001 Curses for every occasion' books and such, and "Unveiling Death Eater's Veil, a guide to recognize dark servants'. All he could do was wait… and learn. Learn as much as he could from his text books. He didn't get to do any magic in the summer or he would have been expelled from Hogwarts, whereas coming to seventh year, he should already learnt to apparate, a rule he just didn't understand. If he, Harry Potter had to defend his life, someway or another against the dark forces, he would lose everything?

Remembering about the Sunday Wizard, he picked it up from the desk where he'd left it and gazed down on the first page.

"'Hogwarts Greets Foreign Students'

It's now been a week that Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, last safe fortress against the Dark wizards, has announced his plans for this year's scholarship. With the reluctant agreement of the Minister of magic, Fudge, Hogwarts will be welcoming foreign students of different origins. This new course of action will hopefully create ties between the different magical communities such as elves, goblins, house elves, giants, fairies, usually considered as minor magical races. Albus Dumbuldore explains, "An exchange of knowledge, experiences will be most welcomed in these dark times." However, Narcissia Malfoy, a witch from a long line of pure bloods, contested this angrily. "I understand Dumbledore's motives, but I'm afraid no good will come out of this. We are too different" Community feels threatened, scared to send back their children to school. Some of these new foreign students, as giants, are well known for their brutality... Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic tries to explain this knew hospitality even though he doesn't seem totally convinced of the well being of this operation. (See page 2 for the interview with the Minister of Magic.)"

A photo had been plastered next to the article. Various faces unknown to Harry stared back at him. However, within the party, he recognized Dobby with a large smile on his face just next to, what Harry suspected was, a half-Giant, for he wasn't any taller than Hagrid.

There were about ten house elves in all. A goblin stood to the left side, scowling, his arms crossed, while a fairy, the size of a human hand, flew beside him. There were also two graceful elves with almond ears standing next to each other. Searching for their names under the picture, he found out that they were brother and sister, although they looked nothing like each other. They seemed all rather cheerful, except for the goblin, of course, even though the small twist of his lips coming out as a grimace might have been a smile.

Harry turned the page and grumbled. There was an article announcing Harry's birthday. He searched for the author's name and was glad to find out that it hadn't been written by Rita Skeeter. He quickly turned to another page, refusing to be put in a bad temper on his birthday.

Harry had been rather pleased to find no article from Skeeter on him at all since Fifth year. It wasn't surprising. The woman had kept her journalist job but had suddenly stopped talking about the Famous Harry Potter (and his love life). A close encounter with a jar (and Hermione) had changed that bad habit. However, the new paper was kept unusually silent, avoiding Voldermort's return directly, it was to be expected. Skeeter was now writing for Luna Lovegood's father… but that is another story.

Thinking about Hermione again, he wondered what was keeping her quiet, or if something bad had happened to her. He thought about it all until he fell to sleep in the same dark void shutting away any thoughts of his friends or the future. She was just at Krum's manor… That place was surely centuries old, and the Bulgarian seeker would protect her, just as he'd promised Harry.

It was about six a clock and the sun was up. The Dursleys had finally stopped rapping on the door for Harry to get up. He'd finally decided to budge and went down to the kitchen. No one had come down yet, so he served himself breakfast.

He heard Aunt Petunia light steps in the stairs. She entered the kitchen, clutching her fuzzy nightgown to her chest. She sniffed loudly at Harry and started to prepare breakfast for her sweetie pumpkin Dudley and uncle Vernon: all bowl of no sugar, fat free cereals without milk. Dudley had lost some weight, but still wasn't allowed to eat what he wanted. Yes, for he was on the Weight Watcher's diet, which was no use as he stuffed his face behind his parent's back.

'Go away if you've finished.' Petunia snapped.

Harry smirked lightly at his aunt as he sat down at the table with his breakfast, taking his time. If he had to die, he told himself, he could at least enjoy eating his breakfast as he wished. Aunt Petunia sniffed loudly and ran back up to the first floor.

The window was wide open but the curtains were drawn, making the blue material lightly ruffle in the morning's breeze. Harry saw the milkman, or more precisely, milkwoman walk by without stopping at the next-door neighbors, heading straight for the Dursley's front porch. Harry, finding this suspicious already had his wand in his hand, and was tiptoeing to the front door.

There was a slight knock, and a "Neptunigarlic," said just loud enough for Harry to hear through the wood. Harry opened the front door slightly and glanced outside, and then opened it wide for Tonks, white hat on her head, to walk into the house, milk bottles in hand.

"Harry, got news for you." Her voice was rather urgent.

"Good or bad?" Harry asked walking back to kitchen, picking up his bowl and putting it in the sink without bothering to wash it.

"Both," Harry's cousin announced. It was the first time this summer that Harry had been contacted directly by someone from the Order, and he'd just decided that Tonks wouldn't leave without giving him a minimum of answers. "The good is that we're getting backup today anytime."

"Who's that?"

Tonks bit her lip while straddling a chair. She picked up an apple and munched on it. "Battle wizards, the elite. They had a favor to return. Dumbledore got some connections in the Olibrium quarters… That's what they call their place. Don't known much about them. But if Dumbledore trusts them, so do I."

Harry frowned (something he did often these days) "Come on, you must know more about them, you're an auror…"

Tonks shook her head. "All I know it's they fight against Evil, and it's hard to know what they look like, because, well… they're invisible… for good. That's all I know. I might have crossed them a dozen of times on missions without knowing they were there." She paused, sitting up with the milk bottle basket still in hand. "Their motto is Never Seen, Never Heard."

Harry thought this over. "invisible". How could he know if hey were Death Eaters among hem if they didn't see each other. Tonks seemed to have guessed his question and shook her head once more. "I really don't know. Maybe if you ask Dumbledore… As for the bad…" Harry looked at expectantly. "We're leaving the Black Household."

"How come?" Harry asked.

"We'll be based in Hogwarts." She refused to add anything, she didn't need to add something. The Final Battle couldn't be far off anymore. "Well, I'm off." She tried to give Harry a reassuring wink while she took out a book of her white jacket and put it on the table before leaving the kitchen. Hearing the front door close after his friend's departure, Harry picked the book up and read it's cover. "Constant Vigilance". An other auror training book.

So, the Order wasn't using Harry's deceased Godfather's House anymore, it was now free, exchanged against Hogwarts. The Order would surely install themselves in unused chambers under the school itself, ready if any attack would be drawn against the place. When he would return to HOgwarts, he'd inspect with his invisibility cloak and his Marauder's map.

He took the book up to his room, crossing Uncle Vernon on his way. Harry didn't take much notice to his relatives anymore. They were scared of him, not that that had ever changed. But this time it was another kind of fear. A close encounter with Voldemort the previous year couldn't be so easily forgotten. Uncle Vernon had started to yell at him at the beginning of the holidays, frustrated and confused why his nephew would stay.

"Why do you stay here? You're a powerful Wizard! The So Called Boy Who Lived!" It'd been the first time that Harry's uncle had actually said it out loud. Magic had been taboo at all moments. "Go and sleep elsewhere! Don't you care what happens to us?"

Uncle Vernon had been talking about Voldemort, the danger that Harry was putting his family in.

"This place is protected," Harry replied, trying to convince his Uncle and himself. "Protected until we stay together."

"And why is that? Your magic can't be bullet proof! You're a selfish little…"

It was then, at that precise moment that Aunt Petunia had decided to speak for the first time on the matter. "Vernon, calm down. Harry is telling the truth." Harry had been the first to be surprised. His Aunt had always said that magic had been a filthy thing, that she'd despised her sister so much that she kept her grudge on Harry. "My sister had made a spell… We will be protected if we stay together. The protection is in the blood. As long as we stay together…" She was repeating herself, seeming oblivious to the stares that her entourage were giving her, especially her husband. "Vernon, you already know this."

And so it was of this manner that Harry was still IN the house, with the Dursleys. It was his protection for the summer, until he went back to Hogwarts for his last year. And then, he would never return to 4 Private Drive ever again.

Harry was thinking this over in his room, the book that Tonks had gave him on his lap while he starred out of his window into the blue sky. It was another beautiful day.

Last year's events had more than changed him. The attack on Diagon Alley had been the worse, nightmare in broad daylight. He could still remember Hermione's leg, ripped apart, and she unconscious on the floor. Ron's pale face as he tried to hold himself up, his wand hand shaking. And then he thought about his fight with Viktor Krum, and he felt considerably stupid. Of course, the fight had been over Hermione, that was important, but it had seemed insignificant next to what atrocities had happened next. His two best friends had learnt about the prophecy in which Harry was involved in: killed by Voldemort, or kill the dark Lord, which made of Harry dead or a murderer. They had promised, Ron, Hermione and him, that they would stay together, what ever happened, whatever the cost.

Harry sighed. He would die, he was sure of it. How could he face Voldemort? He didn't have the experience. He would miss his friends, they would probably miss him too. But he wouldn't abandon faith. He would do his best this year, to learn as much as possible. He wouldn't abandon his friends.

On this last thought he opened up the book and started to studying it.

Aunt Petunia sat in the back garden, reading "The Mirror" (or "The Sun"). It was another beautiful day, and she decided to have a sunbathe. Lying down on a white long-chair, she turned the pages slowly, sunglasses on her nose, sun-cream on the stool next to her, over a pile of other magazines. Uncle Vernon was in the sitting-room with Dudley, watching a soccer match. You could hear their cheers and groans with the commentators words from outside where Aunt Petunia was. Her mind was far off from any dark thought, which explained her reaction or lack of reaction. Hearing a rustle of leaves in the bushes, she put her magazine down, intrigued, frowning slightly.

"Who's there? Mr Hurly, I told you that we'd see to the garden Thursday…" However, there was no one. Aunt Petunia got up, wrapping her towel around herself.

The bush rustled again, Aunt Petunia's eyes became wide, waving her hand franticly to her husband that could be seen through the sitting-room window. Something was wrong, magic was in the air. "Vernon…" she croaked. "Vernon!" she repeated a little louder.

"What is it, Petunia. I'm missing United versus Chelsea here…" he said pulling his eyes away from the TV set. "It better be for something good or…" His words faltered as he saw his wife's desperate expression. "Don't move!"

To his horror, Aunt Petunia decided to faint on the spot with an enormous cry.

Harry heard someone shriek. Before he could think twice he was running down the stairs, his wand in hand. His uncle was shuffling desperately through a draw, cursing and yelling at the same time to Aunt Petunia while Dudldey, had leapt into a dark corner, trembling and sobbing loudly. There might have been Death Eaters and Harry wouldn't have heard them coming.

"Calm down!" Harry shouted franticly. Not now, Not here, he told himself.

There was no more time to think rationally, he needed to be able to hear his own thoughts. Harry threw a silencing charm over his cousin and Uncle.

"Silencio!" The house became suddenly completely quite. Dudley's loud sobs disappeared, just as Uncle Vernon's Mad shuffling and mumbling. Neither of them realized this change, too caught up in their first fright, neither stopping to contemplate what Harry had just done. Meanwhile Harry stood still, straining his ears for any sound. Hearing none, he padded along to one of the windows and sneaked a look out over the garden. There was no movement outside.

Aunt Petunia was lying on the grass completely still. Had she been struck by an unforgivable curse? Harry had been expecting an attack someday, but not here, not now… he need to send a message, quick. But first… He sent a dozen of spells and charms in different directions.

"Imtemporum!… Grandardula!…" Protection spells, curses. He was like a blind man in a room full of snakes. THEY could be anywhere.

Harry picked up the phone that was lying on the couch, dialing the emergency number. Aunt Petunia needed some medical care, he couldn't afford her to die. The muggle doctors would do, then, when he had time, he'd send her to St Mungo's Hospital.

And then the deluge. It all happened it a couple of seconds. Harry didn't hear it coming; but saw it crystal clear, his eyes widening in horror, unable to stop the stupidity of his uncle. Time seemed to slow down incredibly at the worst of moments.

Uncle Vernon raised the gun out of the draw, pulling back the safety latch. The shot was off as he pulled the trigger, the bullets rippling out of the barrel. No gun shot, no sound, no warning.

The first bullet struck the window. Silence left immidiatly, replaced by the loud crash; the glass shattering it in thousands of sharp glimmering pieces, raining down on Harry who was crouched just underneath. He pulled his arms up for protection.

More hit the walls, sound exploding from everywhere, fuming holes left as the gun cartridges fell smoking to the ground.

One punctured Harry's shoulder, bringing out a cry of pain as it hit his flesh, burrowing it's deep. And to his horror, Harry had the time to notice a last bullet come flying directly towards his head.

How could he die now? Voldemort was meant to kill him! The answer didn't come, as the bullet stopped in midair, driven into an invisible wall, followed by a muffled thud to the floor.

Uncle Vernon stood frozen in his gesture, a grimace inscribed on his purple face, his mouth contorted with a silent curse, the gun still held up high. It was then that Harry saw it seep out.

Blood poured to the floor, soaking the carpet with red, forming a scarlet puddle. The liquid reached Harry's kneeling form, staining his trousers red. He was transfixed by it, his eyes grounded on the warm fluid. He tentatively touched it with his finger, trying to make out if he was dreaming or not, wondering how he was still alive. He felt it's warmth. His hand then fell over an invisible form, something solid. It was real. This was not his blood, even though he had a shoulder soaked in his own. This was someone's else's.

He stayed this way, for a long moment, still trying to understand what had occurred here until he finally leveled his gaze back to Uncle Vernon's own mad one. Harry didn't know what happened next, for darkness came over him as he fell into unconsciousness.

This fanfic is written with Human Nature. (that girl has impressive theories on how HP magic works!)

Oh well, this last year is starting rather good, huh? Poor Harry. Shot, and now unconscious, not because of any Death Eater's curse, but because of a MUGGLE gun! I think those things are more powerful than any wizards really thinks. Imagine the combination of Muggle technology and magic! I'm not talking about a simple car or anything. Imagine a cursebullet. If I develop the muggle side a little in this fanfic, there sure is going to be guns. (Vernon wanted to defend his family, and it seems at any cost: buying a gun, how, I haven't decided yet, what kind of gun? Don't know…Yet) Sure you've haven't crossed a story just like this one. (well, I haven't.)

Hermione's is at Krum's? What's between those two? Remind u that this story is in the seventh year, there will be a couple of flash backs to explain some stuff, (this is also a Harry/Hermione pairing mouhahha!! I won't go easy on them, but more easy than some people have been on them. I've just read a fanfic with H/Hr, it was too depressing! There was no place left for any hope. Not that it wasn't good, it was really well written for sure…)

Well, I propose something, I stop my babbling, and you REVIEW! What do you think? Good? Well what you're waiting for… are you still reading this? Hurry up and REVIEW (make a girl happy and have a cookie!) thanks.