A/N: I really hate Author's Notes, so I'll keep this short. First, I'd
like to thank my first (and only) reviewer, Achilles4. I can't tell you
who he picks yet, but the choice itself will come up in...Chapter 4, I
believe. To anyone else who reads this, just a little note I forgot to
mention last time - reviews are welcome, as is constructive criticism.
Flames will be promptly flamed, so don't waste your breath. Thanks.
For Ashley.
*~Chapter Two~*
"While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort."
~Albus Dumbledore; Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix~
Harry was immensely confused. Only a moment ago, he was falling into a fitful sleep in the cupboard under the stairs, pondering Sirius' birthday. Where was he now? And how could he have arrived so quickly?
He stood at the edge of a clearing surrounded by thick forest. It was pitch black, and the only light came from a series of levitating candles circling the center of the clearing. There were several dozen hooded, black robed figures around the edge of the candles, and a man stood in the very center of them all. But it couldn't be a man, thought Harry, because his eyes were flaming red, and his nose appeared to be that of a snake.
Harry suddenly felt as though someone had poured a bucket of ice into his stomach. He'd recognize that face anywhere...Voldemort. Realizing exactly what was happening, Harry cursed Professor Snape's pride, and his refusal to further Harry's Occlumency lessons. His thoughts came to a halt as the snake/man began to speak in a low hiss.
"I have waited long enough," he whispered menacingly, pacing the circle. "I did not wish to make an attack of this scale, for fear that our world would become aware of my return." The man stopped pacing and eyed the woman in front of him; Harry could not see her face through the Death Eater mask. Voldemort eyed her angrily. "However, thanks to the blunder of my servants, that is no longer an issue."
The woman fell to her knees at the feet of the Dark Lord, sobbing. "Forgive me master!" she howled over and over. With a twinge of hatred, Harry recognized the voice as Bellatrix Lestrange's; Sirius' murderer. Voldemort sneered.
"Silence, you foolish girl," he growled over her cries, but she continued to weep. Voldemort whipped out his wand. "Cruico!" Harry's scar felt as though it had exploded; he heard the screams of Lestrange through the white hot pain. After a few moments, the screams abruptly stopped, and Harry struggled to regain his composure. He saw Lestrange doing the same.
"Now where was I, before I was so rudely interrupted?" spat Voldemort. "Ah, yes. As I was saying, now that my presence is known, I need not hesitate to attack the boy." Voldemort now had Harry's undivided attention. The boy...they must be talking about Harry. "I also no longer need him to gain access to the Department of Mysteries." Lestrange whimpered, but said nothing. "Therefore, we attack tonight."
Harry's insides went cold. How on earth were they going to attack him? Hadn't Dumbledore told him he was safe at the Dursleys? Was Voldemort mistaken? Harry struggled with these thoughts, all the while trying to focus on what Voldemort was saying.
"The fact remains that Potter is protected by his feeble muggle relatives. However, I believe they underestimate the power by which their blood is protecting the boy. We must get them out of the way swiftly. That will not be difficult. Once they are out of the picture, getting to Potter will be laughably simple." Smirking, Voldemort held up a boney hand covered in blue veins. "His blood runs through my veins."
Voldemort whirled around, facing the Death Eaters. "There is no better way to begin my rein of terror than by killing the wizarding world's greatest hero. Once again, the world will cower before Lord Voldemort!"
A sinister cheer rose from the gathered Death Eaters, and in the blink of an eye, each one of the disapparated.
***
"Mom! Dad!" Ron Weasley came thundering down the stairs, waking the portrait of Mrs. Black in the process. He ignored her screams.
"MOM, DAD!" Ron burst into the kitchen, and was met by his mother and father, as well as Remus Lupin and a blue haired Nymphadora Tonks. They were all looking at him curiously. Mr. Weasley was on his feet in a moment.
"What's the problem, Ron?" he asked worriedly, glancing at the parchment in his son's hands. "What's this?"
Ron shoved the parchment at his father to read. "Hermione just sent me this with Pigwidgeon; Errol arrived at the same time. He was carrying all the presents I'd sent to Harry." Mr. Weasley was quickly reading over the parchment, his eyes widening.
"What is it, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley. Ron looked at his mother, and started to talk very rapidly and without taking a breath, much like Hermione.
"Hermione's presents came back as well, she tried to call Harry, but his uncle said he'd never lived there and that if she did anything -"
"He'd call the muggle authorities," finished Arthur, looking quite shaken. "Ron, have you received any letters from Harry this summer?" Ron shook his head.
"I figured he was just upset about Sirius, you know," Ron paled, and looked apologetically at Lupin, who smiled sadly at him. "I didn't want to send him any letters because, well, after his reaction to us keeping him in the dark last summer, I thought he'd be upset easily." Ron shook his head angrily. "I should have done something sooner - what if the muggles have hurt him? What if he's run away?"
Lupin looked very grave. "What if Voldemort's got him?" Ron flinched at the name, but paled at the thought. What if Voldemort had him indeed? The thought hadn't even occurred to Ron.
The room was suddenly very quiet - Mrs. Black's screams from the hallway had stopped. Ron turned just as three bleary-eyed redheads trudged into the kitchen.
"Wha's the noise 'bout?" moaned a tired Ginny, unconsciously sitting on Lupin's lap, and pulling her house coat closer. "'s midnight!" Lupin smiled amusedly at the young girl, and pulled her in closer. She sighed contentedly and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Thanks," she mumbled, slowly drifting back to sleep.
"Yeah really, George and I had a hell of a time trying to shut the old broad up," Fred muttered, gesturing towards the hallway.
"And what's Ron yelling about?" added George.
"No one's heard from Harry all summer, and all the gifts were sent back," Ron explained quickly, handing the note to his brothers to read. They paled. Ginny came closer to consciousness at this, and turned towards her brother.
"s'he alright?" she asked, yawning.
"We don't know," said Tonks, glancing at the fireplace, "but I think we'd best go talk to Dumbledore about this." She grabbed the small container of floo powder, and then sighed. "I suppose you'll all be wanting to come, then?" The children nodded in agreement. Their parents didn't protest, but rushed them towards the crackling fire as they hurried to get to Dumbledore's office.
***
Harry sat up sharply in his cupboard, drenched in a cold sweat. Hedwig let out a small, comforting hoot.
"They're coming," Harry said frantically to the owl, rummaging around in the dark for his glasses. Finding them, he put them on his face. He reached up to turn the light on, but thought better of it. Squinting in the dark, he looked around for the one thing he knew he needed now more than ever - his wand. Even Mafalda Hopkirk couldn't fault him for protecting himself against Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
The doorbell rang.
Harry's hands instinctively went to his neck. He sighed in relief when he felt the gold chain there, and he pulled the ring out over his shirt. He was tempted to use it, but thought better of it. The Dursleys were in trouble. They may not love me, Harry thought, and I may not love them, but it's my duty to protect them. They're only muggles; they could never comprehend what sinister plot was, even now, being carried out by the darkest of dark wizards.
Shushing Hedwig's incessant hooting and holding his breath, Harry leaned his ear against the cupboard door.
And was met with the sound of high pitched, cruel laughter in the distance.
For Ashley.
*~Chapter Two~*
"While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort."
~Albus Dumbledore; Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix~
Harry was immensely confused. Only a moment ago, he was falling into a fitful sleep in the cupboard under the stairs, pondering Sirius' birthday. Where was he now? And how could he have arrived so quickly?
He stood at the edge of a clearing surrounded by thick forest. It was pitch black, and the only light came from a series of levitating candles circling the center of the clearing. There were several dozen hooded, black robed figures around the edge of the candles, and a man stood in the very center of them all. But it couldn't be a man, thought Harry, because his eyes were flaming red, and his nose appeared to be that of a snake.
Harry suddenly felt as though someone had poured a bucket of ice into his stomach. He'd recognize that face anywhere...Voldemort. Realizing exactly what was happening, Harry cursed Professor Snape's pride, and his refusal to further Harry's Occlumency lessons. His thoughts came to a halt as the snake/man began to speak in a low hiss.
"I have waited long enough," he whispered menacingly, pacing the circle. "I did not wish to make an attack of this scale, for fear that our world would become aware of my return." The man stopped pacing and eyed the woman in front of him; Harry could not see her face through the Death Eater mask. Voldemort eyed her angrily. "However, thanks to the blunder of my servants, that is no longer an issue."
The woman fell to her knees at the feet of the Dark Lord, sobbing. "Forgive me master!" she howled over and over. With a twinge of hatred, Harry recognized the voice as Bellatrix Lestrange's; Sirius' murderer. Voldemort sneered.
"Silence, you foolish girl," he growled over her cries, but she continued to weep. Voldemort whipped out his wand. "Cruico!" Harry's scar felt as though it had exploded; he heard the screams of Lestrange through the white hot pain. After a few moments, the screams abruptly stopped, and Harry struggled to regain his composure. He saw Lestrange doing the same.
"Now where was I, before I was so rudely interrupted?" spat Voldemort. "Ah, yes. As I was saying, now that my presence is known, I need not hesitate to attack the boy." Voldemort now had Harry's undivided attention. The boy...they must be talking about Harry. "I also no longer need him to gain access to the Department of Mysteries." Lestrange whimpered, but said nothing. "Therefore, we attack tonight."
Harry's insides went cold. How on earth were they going to attack him? Hadn't Dumbledore told him he was safe at the Dursleys? Was Voldemort mistaken? Harry struggled with these thoughts, all the while trying to focus on what Voldemort was saying.
"The fact remains that Potter is protected by his feeble muggle relatives. However, I believe they underestimate the power by which their blood is protecting the boy. We must get them out of the way swiftly. That will not be difficult. Once they are out of the picture, getting to Potter will be laughably simple." Smirking, Voldemort held up a boney hand covered in blue veins. "His blood runs through my veins."
Voldemort whirled around, facing the Death Eaters. "There is no better way to begin my rein of terror than by killing the wizarding world's greatest hero. Once again, the world will cower before Lord Voldemort!"
A sinister cheer rose from the gathered Death Eaters, and in the blink of an eye, each one of the disapparated.
***
"Mom! Dad!" Ron Weasley came thundering down the stairs, waking the portrait of Mrs. Black in the process. He ignored her screams.
"MOM, DAD!" Ron burst into the kitchen, and was met by his mother and father, as well as Remus Lupin and a blue haired Nymphadora Tonks. They were all looking at him curiously. Mr. Weasley was on his feet in a moment.
"What's the problem, Ron?" he asked worriedly, glancing at the parchment in his son's hands. "What's this?"
Ron shoved the parchment at his father to read. "Hermione just sent me this with Pigwidgeon; Errol arrived at the same time. He was carrying all the presents I'd sent to Harry." Mr. Weasley was quickly reading over the parchment, his eyes widening.
"What is it, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley. Ron looked at his mother, and started to talk very rapidly and without taking a breath, much like Hermione.
"Hermione's presents came back as well, she tried to call Harry, but his uncle said he'd never lived there and that if she did anything -"
"He'd call the muggle authorities," finished Arthur, looking quite shaken. "Ron, have you received any letters from Harry this summer?" Ron shook his head.
"I figured he was just upset about Sirius, you know," Ron paled, and looked apologetically at Lupin, who smiled sadly at him. "I didn't want to send him any letters because, well, after his reaction to us keeping him in the dark last summer, I thought he'd be upset easily." Ron shook his head angrily. "I should have done something sooner - what if the muggles have hurt him? What if he's run away?"
Lupin looked very grave. "What if Voldemort's got him?" Ron flinched at the name, but paled at the thought. What if Voldemort had him indeed? The thought hadn't even occurred to Ron.
The room was suddenly very quiet - Mrs. Black's screams from the hallway had stopped. Ron turned just as three bleary-eyed redheads trudged into the kitchen.
"Wha's the noise 'bout?" moaned a tired Ginny, unconsciously sitting on Lupin's lap, and pulling her house coat closer. "'s midnight!" Lupin smiled amusedly at the young girl, and pulled her in closer. She sighed contentedly and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Thanks," she mumbled, slowly drifting back to sleep.
"Yeah really, George and I had a hell of a time trying to shut the old broad up," Fred muttered, gesturing towards the hallway.
"And what's Ron yelling about?" added George.
"No one's heard from Harry all summer, and all the gifts were sent back," Ron explained quickly, handing the note to his brothers to read. They paled. Ginny came closer to consciousness at this, and turned towards her brother.
"s'he alright?" she asked, yawning.
"We don't know," said Tonks, glancing at the fireplace, "but I think we'd best go talk to Dumbledore about this." She grabbed the small container of floo powder, and then sighed. "I suppose you'll all be wanting to come, then?" The children nodded in agreement. Their parents didn't protest, but rushed them towards the crackling fire as they hurried to get to Dumbledore's office.
***
Harry sat up sharply in his cupboard, drenched in a cold sweat. Hedwig let out a small, comforting hoot.
"They're coming," Harry said frantically to the owl, rummaging around in the dark for his glasses. Finding them, he put them on his face. He reached up to turn the light on, but thought better of it. Squinting in the dark, he looked around for the one thing he knew he needed now more than ever - his wand. Even Mafalda Hopkirk couldn't fault him for protecting himself against Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
The doorbell rang.
Harry's hands instinctively went to his neck. He sighed in relief when he felt the gold chain there, and he pulled the ring out over his shirt. He was tempted to use it, but thought better of it. The Dursleys were in trouble. They may not love me, Harry thought, and I may not love them, but it's my duty to protect them. They're only muggles; they could never comprehend what sinister plot was, even now, being carried out by the darkest of dark wizards.
Shushing Hedwig's incessant hooting and holding his breath, Harry leaned his ear against the cupboard door.
And was met with the sound of high pitched, cruel laughter in the distance.