It Must End Here... Now...
Harry's back at Hogwarts for his sixth year, and he returns to find that many people have left. Voldemort has been lying low all summer, his return now known and accepted by all, but an attack is inevitable. Everyone knows that it is Hogwarts he will target - Hogwarts, Dumbledore, and of course Harry.
A chill wind blew in from the open window, sweeping the figures jet black hair gently across his face. Still as a statue he laid on the old bed, green eyes stared unseeingly at the dreary ceiling. Dull and unfocused, they served only to shield his emotions from the world, though his mind and heart were in chaos.
For the better part of a month and a half, this is how Harry Potter lived. He had barely spoken a word to anyone since his arrival at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, midway through the first month of summer holidays. A slight smirk spread across the Harry's face as he recalled his last night with the Dursleys…
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He had spend the first part of the night having dinner with Mrs. Figg, having not yet had the chance to thank her for her support in his hearing the year before. After leaving her house he wandered down to the park and lay on a park bench, staring at the stars. His eyes immediately snapped to one in particular; the brightest star in the sky.
Sirius.
Harry hastily closed his eyes forcing his mind to think of other things, to no avail. As if somebody was running a slideshow on the back of his eyelids, he saw the images he had been seeing all summer. A great black dog, a tall brooding man, a man who's face shone with laughter, the caring face of his godfather. Lastly was the slightly shocked face that ripped through Harry's heart more than all. The pained eyes that found Harry's just before Sirius fell through the black veil.
Gasping slightly to hold back a sob, Harry's eyes flew open to gaze skyward once more. He did not know how long he lay on the bench, but he could not hold back the tears. For two weeks he held his emotions in check, but perhaps it was the pity in Mrs. Figg's eyes that brought them out tonight. Perhaps they just needed to fall.
Still struggling with his emotions, Harry pulled himself off the park bench and set off towards the Dursley's home, his body crying out for sleep. It was well past midnight when Harry jumped in through the living room window of number four Privet Drive. Quietly he stole across the living room approaching the stairs, when a light burst into life.
'Where have you been boy?' thundered the deep voice of his uncle from behind Harry, 'Dudley was home hours ago.'
'Why do you care?' came his monotonous reply.
'I don't, but apparently some people do.' Harry knew who he was talking about, 'You're to be home no later than nine o'clock in future, do I make myself clear?'
Harry turned, forgetting his eyes which were still red and swollen, to stare blankly at his uncle.
'Whatever' he said carelessly, 'Can I go now?'
But Uncle Vernon did not reply, his eyes staring disbelievingly into Harry's. Realisation struck Harry, and as his eyes widened in something close to panic, he turned sharply away from his uncle. He moved swiftly towards the stairs, manoeuvring around the couch. Before he had left the room however, Uncle Vernon had grabbed him by the arm, and turn him abruptly around.
'Why are you crying boy?' his voice was not filled with concern, but rather with some sort of twisted amusement, 'Did the big bad Voldywhatsit hurt you?'
He laughed cruelly, and Harry felt something familiar alight somewhere within him. Something that lay dormant, ready to strike. Uncle Vernon stopped laughing when Harry didn't reply.
'Or maybe you've been dreaming again? Now what was the name…? Dudley mentioned…? Ah yes – Cedric?'
Unwanted images of the graveyard filled Harry's mind as he continued to stare into Uncle Vernon's beady eyes. With each image, the fire burning within him intensified.
'Or maybe it's because all of your fellow freaks have abandoned you for the summer again? Even your godfather?'
Harry bit his lip, willing the tears not to come, but it was no use. A single tear slid down his cheek, and Uncle Vernon grinned evilly. Harry was reminded strongly of Professor Umbridge momentarily before his uncle interrupted his thoughts once more.
'So that's it is it? You're crying because you're all alone?' he laughed again, 'why don't you write to him? Your godfather?' two more tears trailed down Harry's cheeks, his anger bubbling just below the surface, 'Why don't you tell him to come and get you? Go on boy! Send your owl to him and tell him to get his worthless criminal butt down here and take you away!'
The insult was the last straw. He had put up with it for two weeks from his uncle and his cousin; the taunts, the insults against him. But insulting Sirius was it. Before he had though twice, Harry twisted his arm out of his uncle's grip and pushed him roughly away. His uncle stumbled in surprise before tripping over the couch, and landing heavily on the floor. The whole house shook slightly, and a small scream and a loud grunt from upstairs told him that Aunt Petunia and Dudley had awoken. But Harry didn't care, he was livid.
As his uncle fell, Harry took a step towards him, pulling out his wand as he did so. He could feel his anger pulsing through his veins, reviving his exhausted body.
'Don't you ever insult Sirius, ever again' Harry's voice was trembling in rage. 'Or I will curse you into oblivion.'
Though eyeing his Nephews wand warily, Uncle Vernon snorted slightly.
'Empty threat boy and you know it' He said in a would-be calm voice, 'You're so close to expulsion that people are already waving goodbye.'
Harry gripped his wand tighter, his eyes blazing in fury.
'Do you think I care?' Harry replied, his voice low and dangerous.
Panic alighted in Uncle Vernon's eyes, and he could not seem to be able to continue the conversation. Harry continued to bore into his uncle's eyes with his own as he returned his wand to the pocket inside his jacket. At that moment Aunt Petunia flew into the room followed closely by Dudley. Both ran to Uncle Vernon's side.
'Vernon? Vernon are you alright? What happened?' Aunt Petunia gasped as she and Dudley pulled the larger man to his feet. Uncle Vernon merely shook his head and grunted. Harry meanwhile had turned his back once more and was moving away. Uncle Vernon however seemed to have got a confidence booster from his family and spoke one last time.
'You never answered my question boy.' Harry could just make out the amusement among the flustered voice and it made him burn, 'Why don't you call your precious godfather?'
Harry lost control totally. His fury peaked and as he turned once more, and an all too familiar feeling engulfed him. He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them he heard the Dursleys gasp. He felt a sudden urge to attack, to bite, but instead he screamed.
'HE'S DEAD! THAT'S WHY! ARE YOU HAPPY? HE'S DEAD!'
Then his scar seared. Blinding pain ripped through his head and he felt something stir in his stomach, another familiar feeling. Stumbling backwards, he collided with the wall and slid down it, hands clasped over his scar, glasses lying on the floor a few feet away, having fallen off. He groaned in agony, pressing every harder into his scar. After a few moments he heard the Dursleys hurrying past him. He heard Dudley murmur to his parents.
'Did you see his eyes? Why were they red?'
Harry listened as they climbed the stairs, willing the pain to subside. As it began to ebb away, he removed his hand and leaned his head back against the wall. He felt his anger drain away as well, and it was replaced by an even more horrible feeling of emptiness. His godfather was dead.
The tears fell freely now, and Harry did not bother to stop them. He tilted his head slightly and gazed out the living room window. In the sky, the starts winked brightly at him, and he found himself staring at the brightest of them all. He watched it until it sank out of sight. Harry Potter did not sleep that night.
It was as the first rays of the sun were creeping through the open window that Harry heard two familiar pops from the kitchen behind him. He did not move an inch when he heard low voices conversing, or when footsteps disappeared up the stairs. The door next to him opened quietly, and a slight shadow fell across his face. Still, Harry did not move but rather he closed his eyes against the rising sun.
The minutes passed and the figure in the room with Harry did not speak. The footsteps returned down the stairs, and as they reached the bottom, Harry unmistakably heard the sound of someone running into the hatstand, swearing softly and catching it before it fell. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, and then he heard another pop from the hallway, and knew that Tonks had disapperated with his belongings. Slowly he opened his eyes and gazed out of the window.
'Hey Professor Lupin' he said quietly.
The figure bent down beside him, and withdrew an old hat from his pocket, along with a long wand. He muttered an incantation before looking up at Harry, a sad smile on his face.
'Just Remus Harry, just Remus' Harry's eyes met his, 'Time to go.'
He reached out and grabbed Harry's limp hand and placed it gently on the old hat. Harry felt familiar tug behind his navel and Privet Drive disappeared in a whirl of colours.
Shortly after, they had arrived in the kitchen of number twelve Grimmauld Place. The house was unusually quiet, and Remus assured him that everyone was still asleep. Leading him upstairs, Remus directed Harry not into the room he had shared with Ron the previous summer, but to a larger room. Tonks had already delivered his trunk, and disappeared.
'Sirius's room' he said quietly.
Remus stayed until Harry had changed and climbed between the covers, drawing the heavy curtains to block the rising sun. His body had suddenly realised that he was exceptionally tired. As he closed the door, Remus whispered into the darkened room.
'Sirius would have been proud of you Harry'
And as sleep overtook him, Harry could see the face of his godfather. Not shocked as it usually appeared, but shining with pride and laughing slightly. Then he fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
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Harry snapped out of his reverie when he heard a loud explosion of laughter from downstairs. The portrait of old Mrs. Black had finally been removed and the occupants of the house were free to make as much noise as they pleased.
He wondered vaguely what the laughter was for, and then it dawned on him. Fred and George had arrived that morning and Harry, who had watched their arrival from the window of his godfather's room, had seen then carrying a large sack, no doubt filled with new merchandise.
Unwilling as he was to descend to the kitchen, it had been over twenty four hours since he had last eaten, and he had promised himself that he would say hello to Fred and George. Glancing out into the darkening sky, Harry lifted himself off the bed and left the room. He ran a hand through his hair on the landing sighing heavily, before descending the stairs.
Well that's all for now! Please review, and i don't really mind criticism... -.-' I stretched this chapter way longer than I meant too so yeah. Catchyas!