Disclaimer: Not mine.
Hopeless Fate
Harry groaned as the poorly lit room came forcefully into focus. He blinked, trying to get his vision adjusted to the darkness. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton as he tried to recall what had happened. He found himself lying on the cold stone floor of a room. The air was thick with the stench of old blood and sweat. Harry could almost hear the screams and pleas of the room's previous occupants, could almost smell their fear. A pained moan from the other side of the room caught his attention. He ran his hand over the grime-covered floor until his fingers touched a pair of glasses. After slipping them on his face, he lifted himself painfully slow into a sitting position, mindful of his aching body. He squinted through the darkness and could barely see the vague outline of a person. A person with very familiar bushy hair. Harry's breath caught in his throat as the memories came rushing back.
Flashback
The 1st of September dawned bright and clear and a tormented scream tore out from the resident of the smallest bedroom of No. 4, Privet Drive. Harry Potter woke up, sweating and gasping for breath. A few moments passed before he yanked, almost angrily, at the thin blanket that had gotten tangled with his legs. Another nightmare, he thought exasperatedly as he slipped on his glasses and got out of bed. Out of habit, he strained his hearing, trying to listen whether his scream had woken up the Dursleys, before remembering they had gone to visit Aunt Marge the day before.
Harry stole a glance at the clock. 4.03 AM, it proclaimed proudly in bright red letters. He groaned. It was still too inhumanely early to be doing anything. He walked towards the open window and peered out, looking impassively at the rest of Privet Drive. After today, he thought to himself, I will never have to set foot in Privet Drive again. He tried to recall whether he had any memory worth remembering in the seventeen years that this place had been his residence … not home. Never home.
Harry furrowed his eyebrows in thought. A random memory flitted through his mind. There was a cat, a tabby cat, he remembered. It had once stayed with him for two weeks when he broke his arm after Dudley pushed him down the stairs. He was eight. Harry wondered whether the cat is still around. Now that he thought about it, the cat had looked suspiciously like Professor McGonagall's animagus form.
A snowy owl flew through the open window, interrupting Harry's thoughts. It circled the room a few times before landing on his shoulder andnipped his ear affectionately. Harry smiled as he reached up and stroked Hedwig. "Hello, Hedwig. How did your hunt go?" he asked warmly. The owl hooted happily in response. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Harry said, laughing.
He looked out again, gazing at the peaceful neighborhood, at the perfectly maintained flowerbeds, the neatly trimmed lawns and he found himself wondering how long they would remain untouched by the malice and destruction rising in the wizarding world.
A few hours later, Harry was sitting on his trunk at the bottom of the stairs with his Firebolt on his lap, waiting for the Order members to arrive. A wave of melancholy swept over him as ran his fingers across the polished wood, absently tracing the word 'Firebolt' carved on it. Hedwig hooted from her cage, which had been placed on the remaining space on the trunk, trying to comfort her master. Harry looked at his owl and lifted the corners of his mouth in an attempt to smile. He didn't quite succeed. "It's okay, girl. I'm fine," Harry said. He sighed. He didn't even believe himself, and sure enough Hedwig gave an incredulous sounding hoot. Is it even possible for a hoot to sound incredulous? He asked himself and then shook his head as if he could physically shake off his thoughts. Enough of that, he told himself. He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes to eleven. He was beginning to panic. Why aren't they here yet? Has something happened?
As if on cue, the doorbell rang…and rang…and rang. Harry practically flew to the door. Before opening it, he took out his wand from his pocket and cautiously opened the door just wide enough for him to stick his head out. He peered warily through the gap and almost burst out laughing at the scene. Mr. Weasley was jabbing the doorbell excitedly, getting more and more excited with each echoing 'DING! DONG!' through the house. Harry cleared his throat loudly, startling Mr. Weasley.
"Ah, Harry," Mr. Weasley said with a bright smile. He clasped his hands, quite reluctantly Harry observed, behind his back. "So nice to see you. How have you been?" he continued while looking Harry up and down. Harry noticed that Mr. Weasley looked somewhat weary. He had more lines round his eyes and forehead, as if he was constantly worried about something, which he probably was. "Those muggles haven't been starving you have they?" He asked with a concerned frown when he noticed Harry's lean form.
"No, no. I'm fine Mr. Weasley," Harry responded while trying to look over Mr. Weasley's shoulder. He was disappointed when he saw no one else. He had been hoping to see Professor Lupin before returning to Hogwarts.
"Good. Now, Harry. I have something very important to ask you," Mr. Weasley said with a serious expression.
"What is it?" Harry asked, chewing his lower lip worriedly. Multiple worst-case scenarios raced through his mind, each worse than the other.
"This door's bell, how does it work?" Mr. Weasley asked, gesturing energetically at the doorbell. "Ingenious creation really, I wonder if Molly will let me fix one at the Burrow," he added excitedly while examining the doorbell curiously. Harry visibly relaxed and started laughing. "I'll be glad to explain all about doorbells, but Mr. Weasley, if we don't go now, I'll miss the train," he said, checking his watch.
"Ah, yes. Right," Mr. Weasley mumbled and search his pocket for something.
"Why can't we just apparate to King's Cross?" Harry mused aloud. After all, he has the license.
"Dumbledore's order," Mr. Weasley replied curtly.
Maybe he thinks I'm going to apparate straight into a bunch of Death eaters, Harry thought bitterly, or worse, splinch myself.
"Ah hah!" Mr Weasley pulled out a chocolate frog triumphantly. "Well, lets get going then. Where's your trunk Harry?"
Pocketing his wand, Harry opened the door all the way as a reply and gestured for Mr. Weasley to come in. He caught Mr. Weasley glancing at the doorbell wistfully before stepping in. Harry locked the door after him.
"Here, touch the chocolate frog and say the activation word," Mr. Weasley said, holding out the chocolate frog. Harry touched the wizarding candy and said in a clear voice. "Voldemort is a bastard." Harry grinned when he saw Mr. Weasley flinch. He felt a tug behind his navel and seconds later they vanished.
Harry strode through the aisle of the Hogwarts Express, peering through each compartment in search of his friends. He made it to Platform 9 ¾ just in time to board the train.
He finally found Ron and Hermione in the last compartment. They were sitting next to each other, talking rapidly in hushed tones. Harry cocked his eyebrow in curiosity.
"Hey, guys," Harry said as he slid open the compartment door. He hid a smile as Ron and Hermione jumped in surprise.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed and Harry found himself enveloped in a tight hug. "Hi, Hermione. I missed you too," he managed to gasp out. Just when he thought he was suffering from symptoms of oxygen deprivation, Hermione released him.
"Harry, how's it been, mate?" Ron asked, patting his back.
"As well as can be expected," Harry answered noncommittally as he sat down opposite his friends.
"So, Harry tell us about your summer," Hermione said.
"What's there to tell? The Dursleys will always be the Dursleys," Harry replied. He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his tone as he thought of the long hours of chores under the blazing sun.
"Oh, Harry. I'm sure Dumbledore has his reasons," Hermione said sympathetically. Harry didn't bother answering. He was sure he wouldn't be able to say anything polite.
Noticing his silence, Hermione and Ron shared a look. She nodded after a few seconds of the silent exchange between them. Harry looked at the both of them suspiciously. "What is it?"
"Um, so Harry," Ron began uncertainly. He paused before continuing. "We were just wondering whether you had any visions during the summer."
"Has you scar been bothering you?" Hermione added worriedly.
Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head. "I mastered Occlumency," and Legilimency, he silently added, "just before school ended a few months ago, remember? So, no visions." He said, shrugging. Talking about Occlumency brought back painful memories. Harry grimaced as he remembered night after night of having his worst memories brutally replayed by a gleeful Snape. He had been furious and miserable after being made to relive the worst parts of his life. He had actually done accidental magic. Snape's office had been totally thrashed, to Harry's complete satisfaction. The next lessons that followed, his feelings had already gone past anger and sadness to a sort of empty emotion. That was when he truly understood the meaning of the phrase 'empty your mind'.
"But," Harry began, rubbing at his scar absentmindedly, "my scar has been throbbing lately," he finished and his gaze hardened. "The bastard's happy," he whispered, almost to himself. Harry gazed at Ron and Hermione with a grim expression. "If he's happy, that means there'll be grief for the rest of us," he said quietly.
Hermione and Ron said nothing but it was clear from their expression that they agreed. Hermione looked troubled. She looked as though she was about to say something but she closed her mouth and glanced at Ron. Eventually she seemed to have reached a decision and she started talking. "The attacks have increased during the summer." She said gravely. "It was horrible. Whole families have gone missing and it's not only limited to muggles and muggleborns," Hermione glanced at Ron again before continuing. "Pureblooded families who supported the Light have also been targeted."
Harry had been deep in thought throughout the explanation but when the significance of the last statement sank in, his head snapped up and he looked at Ron with growing apprehension. Before he could voiced his question, Ron answered him.
"It's Percy. We were supposed to meet a week ago. He said he wanted to apologize for being such a git for the past two years." Ron said in a flat tone. "I went to a private room he booked in the Leaky Couldron, while the rest of us went to Diagon Alley. He didn't show up. I thought he must have lied to us but then dad went to check up on him at work and that's when we found out he was missing. Dumbledore reckons the Dark Lord is the one responsible," he added and he turned his head towards the window, gazing at the passing forests and mountains as the train moves further north. It hadn't even been an hour since they met but already there's bad news.
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Harry couldn't help but think he had a hand in all the things that had happened. After all, it was him who had brought Voldemort back. He sighed wearily. How he wanted all this to end. The endless deaths and pain and fear. But the question remains. How is he going to end this? How can he kill Voldemort when he hasn't even finished his magical education? Frustration began to eat away at him with the precision of a surgeon, layer by pitiful layer…
His guilt trip was interrupted when the compartment door slid open with such force that the glass pane rattled dangerously. In a flash, Harry's wand was in his hand.
"Malfoy," Harry hissed venomously, glaring at the pale blond and his two goons.
"What the hell do you-" Harry began to say but he was cut off when Malfoy raised his wand, pointed it at Harry and yelled, "STUPEFY!"
"PROTEGO!" Harry's eyes widened in momentary shock before he instinctively raised a shield a split second before the Stunning spell impacted. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ron and Hermione jumped up from their seats, wands raised.
Harry retaliated by hurling a Disarming spell at the Slytherin, who merely sidestepped the spell, letting it hit Crabbe. Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy, but to his surprise the Slytherin was completely expressionless, he wasn't smirking or gloating like he would have usually done. Before he could contemplate further, Malfoy sent a Cutting spell towards his legs, aiming to incapacitate him, literally. Harry could only just avoid the spell from slicing his left leg off in the limited space. The spell grazed his left calf, leaving behind a nasty gash. Harry's knee buckled but he forced himself to remain upright.
His concentration was broken by Hermione's indignant shriek. Harry saw that Crabbe and Goyle had abandoned their wands in favor of their more easily accessible skill, brute strength. They were obviously outclassed by Hermione's spellcasting abilities. Hermione was struggling against their vice-like grips. Her wand had been snapped and the fragments lay forgotten on the ground. Harry's blood boiled at the scene. How dare they!
Malfoy took advantage of Harry's momentary lapse in attention to send another Stunning spell at him but Harry deflected it almost lazily. He stared at Malfoy with fury and hatred. "So, you've finally joined the ranks of Voldemort's loyal slaves. I suppose you've been ordered to do this by your master. How surprising," Harry said sardonically. "Tell me, how does it feel to grovel at you master's feet?" Harry spat viciously, his voice dripping with anger and disgust.
"Shut up, Potter!" Malfoy snarled. Harry saw an unreadable emotion darted through Malfoy's expression, but it was gone before he could identify it. Malfoy stared impassively at Harry and shouted, "NOW!"
Harry creased his forehead in confusion but soon enough, an answering voice called out, "Stupefy!" and a brilliant red light raced towards Harry and hit him. Harry stumbled forward from the force of the spell. He had just enough time to register Hermione's shocked and horrified expression and the fact that it was Ron who cast the spell, before he black out.
End of Flashback
TBC
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