Harry Potter and the wizard's war
Author's note: or authors' note actually, because we're two writing this fic. So if you notice some differences in the writing style from one chapter to another it's normal but normally, it should be sensibly the same thing. This fic is already invented in the slightest detail (or almost), we know exactly where this story's going so don't worry we're not going to give up halfway through it. There will be a total of 27 chapters which are gonna be relatively long. If all's going on well, we should post a new chapter weekly, or faster if we have nothing to do.
Disclaimer: All the characters (but several exceptions and a lot of invented names), the places (except some names again), etc. are the property of JK Rowling. Apart from that, the storyline is our own concept but the Harry Potter universe is obviously totally based on the books.
Summary: Harry enters his sixth year at Hogwarts. And it starts rather badly. He still has Sirius's death on his conscience, the Death Eaters attacks are multiplying… But most of all, Harry must prepare for the final duel with Voldemort. The 2nd war has now well begun.
Pairings: Ron/Hermione Harry/Luna Neville/Ginny NO SLASH!!!!!!!!!
Chapter 1: News from the Prophet
The 2nd war has now well begun
We are sorry to report a new attack which happened yesterday late in the evening. Following the murder of the four Larnack three days ago, we were this time victims of a massive attack on the village of Harwright, located approximately 180 km north of London.
"We were coming back from our friends' place, my wife and I, when we heard a big noise coming right form the mountains, confided M. Baker, still perturbed. I turned around and then I saw them coming out of the mountains."
About a dozen giants totally ravaged the village. According to the Ministry of Magic, the number of victims is evaluated to 250, including a dozen wizards and over 500 wounded. However, the exact number has not yet been revealed. The survivors took refuge in nearby villages where Ministry members took matters into their own hands, although their slowness to react allowed the giants to pass without damage to go, there is no doubt, join the henceforth numerous followers of You-Know-Who. They still managed to modify the memory of all the muggles present on the scene and took the wounded in charge.
The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, didn't make any comment. He only said: "We sincerely regret this attack. Be assured that from now on we shall take energic measures to prevent this from happening again." However, since the announcement a week ago of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return, the Ministry took almost no initiative to increase the security of the Wizards community, who is currently in a state of panic. It is by the way facing numerous criticisms about its way to manage this critic period. "It's entirely Fudge's fault if we're in this situation, says M. Hawning, from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. He should have listened to Dumbledore. He has been warned of You-Know-Who's return more than a year ago and he did nothing. Worst, he deliberately tried to hide the facts by manipulating everybody. If he had reacted in time, he would have had a chance to rally the giants, but now it's too late."
"Fudge pretends he's going to take measures to counter You-Know-Who's followers, but you all know that's a total lie! He prefers to calmly sit in his office on his big butt drinking his tea, adds Mrs. Routt, head of the department of magical transportation."
What the wizards and witches are fearing most, is that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may succeed in gathering an army strong enough to take over the Ministry and reach the power. It has been declared last week that the dementors officially left Azkaban prison to join the ranks of the Dark Lord. We also know that his followers include more than thirty Death Eaters as well as numerous other wizards, witches and other creatures, and now the giants. It is more than time we start preparing ourselves for this war.
Harry closed the Prophet with a deep sight. Then, he threw it casually aside and flew himself down on his bed. That wasn't the first bad news he had received since the beginning of the summer et that would certainly not be the last ones. Voldemort had been more active in the last week than he had been in all the previous year.
250 victims…It had been a long time since the Wizarding World had known such a big catastrophe. It was the second time in hardly a week that a Voldemort attack was reported. With this rhythm, thousands of people would die until the end of the summer. Something had to be done. Someone had to put an end to this massacre.
No, it wasn't someone. It was him. Sooner or later, he would have to face Voldemort. And then, there would be two possibilities: he would kill Voldemort or he would be killed. In some way, the sooner the better. It would avoid him from worrying about this longer than was necessary.
Anyway, he was well aware that he stood absolutely no chance. How was he supposed to be able to confront the most powerful dark wizard who ever existed? How was he supposed to save the whole wizarding world when hadn't been able to protect Sirius? Worse! He'd led him straight ahead to death!
He was trying to persuade himself that he wasn't the only one responsible, but how could he believe that? Nothing would have happened without him. If only he'd practiced Occlumency like he was supposed to! If only he'd thought about using the mirror Sirius gave him instead of trusting Kreacher! If only he hadn't been such an idiot!
There were so many things he could have done to prevent Sirius's death. So many things he hadn't done…It was entirely his fault, he couldn't deny it.
Harry allowed himself in dark thoughts. As time passed, he felt more and more guilty. Then, exhausted, he ended up falling asleep, but continuing to think of Sirius and all the mistakes he had done and which had lead to his godfather's death.
Since the beginning of the holidays, he was continually reliving the scene in the Department of mysteries in his sleep. The context changed from time to time, but the dreams always ended up in Sirius's death.
The next day Harry woke up very late. It was almost noon, but he didn't feel rested at all. It took him a certain time to realize he was hungry. He had not eaten anything the previous day. However, it was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch, so Harry decided to get a look in the fridge to find something to eat.
He went down the stairs hoping nobody would notice his presence. Unfortunately, Dudley was standing right at the bottom of the steps.
-So, you finally decided to get out of your room, he said. We thought you were dead… Not that it would've been a bad thing really, but…
- Dudley, leave me alone! It's true that if I died you would benefit of all my meals. Maybe you'd even end up dying yourself. In the end, you'd be so huge you wouldn't even be able to raise your head to watch the TV…
-You think you have the right to insult me like this? Mom says you're lucky they're keeping you in the house. Last year, they almost threw you out. They could still do it…
-And you, you think Mom doesn't know she has no choice but to keep me here… I'll stay whether you want it or not and you've got a problem with that, then…
-Then what? Your godfather's gonna come and change me into a mouse?
This time, it was too much. Harry couldn't support to hear Dudley talk about Sirius, even if he couldn't imagine half the effect his words had had upon Harry.
-I don't want to hear you talk about him or it's me who's gonna change you into a mouse, Harry warned him.
-You know very well that you're not allowed to do ma…ma…
-Magic?
-You'd be expelled from your…school.
-Yeah, maybe, but then it'd be too late for you, wouldn't it? I don't reckon you want to try…
Harry ignored Dudley's response and made his way towards the kitchen, tired of this conversation which wasn't leading anywhere. No matter what Harry said, he didn't want at all to be expelled from Hogwarts and he knew very well that Dudley would never dare play too much with his nerves.
However, he gave up the idea of getting something to eat, due to his uncle who was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper. He thus preferred to go back to his room and forget his hunger, at least until lunch.
He didn't stay there for long, however. After about fifteen minutes, his uncle's voice yelling his name interrupted the thread of his thoughts. One more time, he had been thinking about Sirius, the prophecy, Voldemort and all the things that made his life so complicated.
Harry did not want at all to go down and face his uncle's anger. He didn't even know what he could have done wrong. So, he pretended to not hear the shouts resonating through the whole house and remained lied down on his bed.
But Uncle Vernon wasn't giving up so Harry finally resigned himself to go down to see what he wanted him.
When Harry entered the living room, he noticed that his uncle's face was all red and that his forehead was streaming with sweat. When he was in that state, it was a sign that he was in a really bad mood.
-So, he said in a very threatening tone. I heard that you dared threaten Dudley.
-So Dudley's not able to defend himself alone? He still needs his dad to help him?
-Don't talk to me on that tone! You know you could pay it dearly if you dare make the slightest harm to Dudley.
-What exactly could you do to me? You remember what M. Moody told you last week… If ever they learn I'm mistreated…
Uncle Vernon seemed to think for a moment about the best answer to this. It was true that he couldn't allow himself to make the slightest harm to Harry or to prevent him from writing to the others.
-You wouldn't be mistreated, he said finally. Only, there's nothing forcing us to keep you here. If you don't watch yourself, we could very well decide that you can't live in our house anymore.
-That's strange. I think that's not exactly what Dumbledore'd say, isn't it Aunt Petunia? I think in fact, you haven't got the choice.
- I forbid you to pronounce the name of this…this…whatever. I forbid you to pronounce this name in our house!
-This what? This wizard? Anyway, if you throw me out of your house, that'd probably be the best thing that's happened to me in the last fifteen years!
Harry knew it wasn't true. He knew he had to continue going to the Dursleys at least once a year for his own safety, but his anger had taken over on his reason. He went out slamming the entrance door and went towards the playground, near Magnolia Road.
However, he didn't go far. He had barely turned the corner of the street that he was intercepted by Mrs.Figg, who was walking the other way 'round.
-Harry! She said. I'm so happy to see you!
-Hi Mrs.Figg, he said, not knowing what to answer. How're you?
-Very well, thanks. By the way, I've learned about…what happened. I'm sorry. Are you okay?
-Yeah, I'm okay, said Harry automatically. I'm going to be okay.
He knew this was false, but he preferred to not let the others know. He hated talking about Sirius's death and was doing everything to avoid the subject.
-If ever you need anything, you can come and see me, you know.
-Thank you. It's nice to offer it, but I really don't need anything. Everything's fine.
-You sure? Well, in that case, don't forget I'll always be happy to have tea with you one of these days. Come and see me whenever you get the time.
-Yeah, right, answered Harry, wishing the conversation to end as soon as possible. I'll think about it. Bye, Mrs.Figg.
Harry continued on his way to the playground. When he arrived, he settled himself on one of the benches, the farthest form the street. Not that it changed anything. There wasn't anybody apart from himself.
This place had been neglected since quite a while. The children weren't coming anymore, without doubt because of the pathetic state of it. The only person who was happy about that was Harry. This was letting him a place to be alone, in peace.
Suddenly, he wondered why he had wanted to make Mrs.Figg believe everything was for the best. Certainly if he had tried to appear happy, and acted like everything was fine, it was because he was judging it the best solution. This prevented him form being asked questions which he did not want to answer at all.
He was absorbed by his thoughts again and forgot about the time passing. When he realized he must have sat there for several hours, because the sun was starting to fall in the sky, he decided go back.
However, when he turned Privet Drive's corner, he noticed some abnormal activity around the Dursley's house. Normally, the neighbourhood was so quiet that it was quite rare to see even a new dog in the area, but now, there was a real crowd piling up right in front of his aunt and uncle's door.
Harry approached cautiously, hoping very hard he wouldn't be noticed until he knew who all those people were. That's when he realized that almost every one was wearing muggle clothing, but in a very clumsy way, like all those wizards at the Quidditch World Cup.
But what the hell were about twenty wizards doing in front of his house? Watching more closely, he saw that many of them had a notebook in their hand and what looked a lot like a Quick-Quotes quill. So the Prophet had followed him to Little Whinging…
But why? Were they hoping for an interview about his thoughts on Voldemort's recent activities? Or did they just want to spy on his private life to find something to write another moving article on his sad life and the horrible he was treated by the Dursley's when he was there?
In each case, Harry did not want at all to be the object of a Prophet report. So, he discreetly tried to pass by his neighbour's backyard in order to reach the back door of the house and go up in his room unnoticed.
Unfortunately, he didn't have that chance. One of the reporters saw him running across the backyard before he could reach the door. Harry was soon surrounded.
-Mr Potter! One of the journalists shouted. How do you feel about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return?
Harry had to make a considerable effort not to turn around and leave in the opposite direction. Instead of that, he chose to be polite.
-Hum… Just as everybody else… I wonder what's gonna happen next…
He had absolutely no desire to rack his brains trying to find an intelligent answer.
-What's your reaction about You-Know-Who's recent attacks?
That time, Harry had a hard time trying to stay calm.
-How should I react? I'm… shocked. As everyone is.
-And you, what would you do to stop You-Know-Who?
-Listen, I really don't want to answer your questions right now…
-What do you think of all the things people said about you last year?
-I don't know, but for the moment, I only think of coming back into the house so if you'd just let me go…
-What would you do if you were one of those persons who lost a loved one in the attack of Harwright?
Harry had had enough. These days, almost everything was likely to remind him of Sirius. He made his way through the journalists and entered the house, making sure to lock the door behind him.
The Daily Prophet… That was the last thing he needed! He only hoped he had not given them enough information to write their article. Don't count on it, Harry told himself. He knew perfectly well that refusing to answer could turn out to be even worse than telling them anything. They'd probably write that he was really perturbed and traumatized by Voldemort's return and that he didn't want to talk to anyone in order to hide his fear, or something like that. Anyway, since the time he had gotten used to ignore what the Prophet said about him. It was better that way.
Harry laid down on his bed and, even though the day had not really been long, he fell asleep, exhausted, without taking the time to get changed.
He was back in the department of mysteries, once again, during the fight between the Death Eaters and the wizards from the Order of the Phoenix. Everything was identical, in the slightest details, except for a little thing. This time, Harry wasn't participating to the action. He stood in the center of the room, not moving, but no one seemed to notice him.
In fact (it took him a certain time to figure that out), nobody was moving. They were like frozen there, still in action poses. And they were blurred. The more Harry tried to see them, the more they faded, the more they blended into the background. Everything was quiet.
Two persons stood in the middle of the room, near Harry. There was a woman, which Harry had seen too many times: Bellatrix Lestrange. And the other person was… Sirius. Suddenly, they both came to life and they started to fight again. Again, because Harry was certain that the fighting had begun before his arrival.
They were both casting all kinds of spells, which never reached the other. Harry was moving back more and more, without managing to take his eyes off the fighting that was taking place right in front of him. Suddenly, he hit something hard. He turned around and realized that it was, in fact, the old arcade, still there, in the center of the room.
Then, a flash more powerful than the others came out from one of the wands. Everything became like if it were in slow motion. Harry saw that Sirius had received the spell right in the chest. He lost his balance and started to fall… right on Harry. He leaped aside without thinking and his godfather fell right through the veil.
When he realized what had just happened, he rushed towards the arcade.
-Sirius! He heard himself yelling.
He knew it wasn't over. He could go and get him, save him, bring him back. He wanted to go, but something seemed to pull him backwards. He couldn't see who or what it was. All of a sudden, he heard some yells resonating on the walls, as if someone was shouting after him, but the echo made them indecipherable.
He was still struggling against the mysterious thing that was holding him back. He had to get to Sirius, save him. But that thing was holding him tightly. And that ear-splitting voice was still screaming, blurring his thoughts.
Harry woke up. When he opened his eyes, he saw that it was the morning. He had probably slept more than a dozen hours. He blinked several times, still not fully awake. Suddenly, he realized that the voice he had been hearing in his dream was still resounding through the house. It was his uncle's voice. He was apparently really angry.
Harry got up quickly and hurried downstairs. His uncle was standing at the bottom of the steps. His skin had taken a purplish colour and his face looked swollen with rage.
-What are they doing here? Uncle Vernon shouted. What are people of your kind doing in front of my house? How do you think the neighbours are going to react?
-What? Harry said, though he had perfectly understood the situation.
Apparently, the journalists didn't intend to give up so easily.
-You know exactly what I'm talking about. I'm sure it was you who told them to come here. They brought up tents and spent the night here! On MY grass!
Tents? Harry looked through the window to see what was happening outside. There were about a dozen tents in front of the house. The journalists were crowded everywhere around the house. He was surrounded.
Harry wondered why they were having so much trouble for a single interview. They must have a lot of other things to write on, so why didn't they leave him alone? Why didn't they go ruin someone else's life instead of camping in Privet Drive?
Besides, the Prophet had been talking about him for all the previous year. People must have had enough. Most people knew him more than he did himself, so why were they still talking about him in the newspapers?
Then, he realized that what the journalists were doing must be illegal. Not only they allowed themselves to get into his private life, but they were about twenty wizards camping in a muggle road. Now, wizards weren't supposed to draw the muggle's attention to themselves. Maybe he could lodge a complaint against them?
Suddenly, Harry realized that he was still near the window, perfectly visible. He moved away quickly but it was too late: the reporters had seen him and were now hammering on the window to make him go out.
-Who are these people? Asked aunt Petunia, panicked. What do they want?
-How dare you bring that kind of people at our place? His uncle bellowed. Who allowed you to…
-As if I asked them to come, Harry said in an exasperated tone. I have absolutely no desire to talk to them and I'm not happier to see them here than you are!
-So, make them leave before the neighbours wake up and see what's happening here.
-That's exactly what I intend to do.
He opened the door and went outside. Within ten seconds, they were all around him. They were once again bombarding him with questions. They were speaking so fast that Harry didn't understand a single word. Anyway, he didn't really want to know what they were saying.
-That's enough! Harry shouted to make sure he was heard by everybody. I have absolutely no intention to answer any of your questions, no matter how long you're gonna stay in front of this house. So you'd better go back to the place you came from and find an other article to write 'cause you won't have anything about me! Is that clear enough?
-OK, OK. We weren't trying to upset you. But the Wizarding World wants to know…
- They already know enough, Harry spat. So clear up. And I'm better not see any of you here again.
The journalists glanced furtively around them to make sure that nobody was watching. Then, they all took out their wands vanished the tents. Finally, they all disaparated in a few seconds.
Harry was a bit taken aback that they had accepted to leave so easily. Maybe he had managed to frighten them enough so that they wouldn't come back.
Being in a very bad mood, he decided to go back up in his room in order to avoid seeing his aunt and uncle, who were still blaming him for the incident and saying that it was him who had asked all these journalists to come so that it would make the neighbours talk.
He sat down on his bed and sighed, trying to calm down. But he didn't have the time to do so. Soon, he heard yells coming from the first floor again. This time, however, it was Aunt Petunia's voice. Harry went back downstairs to see what was happening. He understood what was the cause of this noise the second he reached the floor.
A man was hiding under a coffee table, a piece a parchment and a quill in his hand. So, the journalists had not left the house after all. They just preferred to hide and spy on him.
Harry was about to throw the man out, but this time, his uncle was the first to react.
- OUT! He roared. OUT! That's enough! I don't want to see any more of your kind in this house or I swear you're gonna have to deal with me and I tell you you'll regret it for a very long time!
But as he was saying this, three more journalists had gone out from the bathroom where they'd been hiding, attracted by the noise.
Harry totally lost his temper. He took out his wand and pointed it straight to the head of the one nearest him, though he knew he wasn't going to use it. The technique was efficient however. The journalist backed off against the wall, with a terrified look on his face.
-I give you three seconds to go off, Harry said on a threatening tone. One…two…
In less than one second, all the journalists disaparated. He heard pops coming from almost everywhere in the house.
Still furious, he turned back towards his aunt, uncle and cousin, who were all standing at the other side of the living room. Uncle Vernon too was fulminating.
-I've had enough! He said. I'm calling Marge straight away. We're going to her place for the rest of the summer. I'm sure she'll understand. She knows he's always causing trouble, he said pointing his head towards Harry. We're leaving as soon as possible. Tomorrow if we can. They'll never find us there!
Harry was fuming even more now. So he was causing trouble! Like it were his fault if the Prophet was refusing to leave him alone! And to top it all, he was going to spend the rest of the summer with Aunt Marge! He would have to suffer all her mockeries and comments for about two months…it was the worst thing that could still happen to him. Unless… He could think of only one other solution.
He could send a message to his friends. Maybe he could go to Grimmauld Place. He really didn't want to go back there, but it was still better than Aunt Marge's place. Or maybe he could go and spend the rest of the summer at the Burrow…
He went upstairs to his bedroom and wrote a short letter for Ron and another for Hermione, trying not to sound as if he needed to be rescued. Then he tied the two letters to Hedwig's leg and she flew away instantly to bring them to their addressees.
After that, Harry remained in his room for most of the day. He couldn't stop throwing furtive glances outside the window in the hope of seeing Hedwig coming back with his friend's responses.
"I hope she'll be back before tomorrow, he thought"
By the end of the day, the owl still wasn't back. Harry finally fell asleep imagining all he would have to suffer if he had to go to Aunt Marge's for the rest of the summer.
The next day, he was woken up by Hedwig who was nibbling his finger in order to force him to get up. It was still quite early and it took some time to Harry before he was totally awoken. One more time, he'd had a bad night because of his nightmares, which weren't stopping.
He finally opened his eyes and noticed his owl's presence, a letter tied to her leg.
Okay, so that's it for the first chapter. It took a crazy amount of time to write so I hope it's worth it. Don't forget to send us your reviews to share your comments. Especially after the first chapter, it's important to know what people think. Anyways, the next chapter's coming soon enough….