Paradise Found
Chapter Two
Poison of the Soul
The accident happened a quarter of a block away. Dudley had run a stop sign and collided with another car, and both drivers had perished instantly. Petunia had been in hysterics for almost a week before falling ominously silent. Vernon had been hospitalized for shock. He never said a word, only turned a horribly death-like shade of white, a sheen of sweat coating his body as he went into slight convulsions.
Harry had been in his room when he'd first heard the phone ring. Thinking nothing of it, he had continued his homework hoping it wasn't Ron or Hermione calling to console him or offer their support for something like the hundredth time. For half a second after the receiver had crashed to the ground, he thought someone really had called him, but then he had gone downstairs to find Petunia in a right state; whimpering, her head shaking from side to side, someone on the other end shouting "MRS. DURSLEY? ARE YOU THERE? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? WE'RE SENDING A CAB RIGHT OVER!" Picking up the abandoned piece of plastic, Harry heard the line go dead and replaced it carefully.
"Aunt Petunia? What's going on?" Cautiously moving toward her, he grabbed her cold hands and led her to the couch, sitting her down carefully. "Aunt Petunia," he heard himself saying ,"I need to you to take deep breaths. Come on now. In and out, there we go. What. Is. Going. On?" Petunia's stark white face seemed to crumble within itself as the full brunt of whatever was troubling her suddenly hit her. She opened her mouth and Harry, who thought she would finally answer him, was shocked into stillness as she let out one high pitched, wailing scream. This continued for several minutes, tears leaking out of her eyes, her whole body shaking uncontrollably as she gasped for more air only to let it out in long, unbroken screams.
Suddenly, Harry felt the black fingers of morbid dread clutch at him mercilessly as he held his aunt tightly, if only to keep her from thrashing violently. Comfort was beyond this woman now. Exhausted by her grief, Petunia gave one final shudder before wilting in his thin, pale arms. Her eyes fluttered closed, and though the rest of her person had seemingly given up with the strain, her mouth kept on. "…Dudley…Dudley…not my poor baby Dudley…My Dudley…No…no…no…"
Harry felt himself go terribly still at her mantra, his mouth dried and he felt his chest begin to tighten. How? Was the burning question in his mind. How had Dudley died, was it Death Eaters? HOW! Sick with an even more terrible dread, Harry's grip on his aunt slackened and he felt her fall heavily on his lap. Pushing her upright, he heard the doorbell ring before several loud bangs threatened to knock the door off its hinges. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he drew his wand before shouts had him running to the door, pulling it open.
"What's happened?" he demanded of the uniformed men standing there. "My aunt just got off the phone and just started screaming before collapsing. What's happened to my cousin? TELL ME!" The man closest to the door briefly explained that his cousin had been found not too far from the house in a mangled car, collided with another vehicle. Apparently he had run a stop sign. The men entered the house at Harry's beckoning and found Petunia still sprawled gracelessly on the couch. Her eyes were still open and horribly rimmed with red. Large drops of water ran down the sides of her face and great gasps of air were being forced in and out of her chest with only primal instinct driving them.
Harry watched numbly as his aunt was escorted to the waiting ambulance and told to sit quietly while several staff checked her over. The two suited men departed and Harry suddenly felt very lightheaded. Closing the door he retreated upstairs, composed a brief letter to the order and collapsed into bed. Sleep, however, evaded him.
Lying awake, he watched as the sun moved from one corner of his room to the next, until his plaster walls began to show a darker shade of red. A million and more thoughts raced through his head. Dudley, the Order, Hermione, Ron, Petunia's stark white face, the two men in suits, his abandoned Transfiguration essay, the Weasley clan, Dumbledore, Voldemort. Harry could feel his blood run cold as the full implications set in. If Uncle Vernon thought Harry's freakishness had anything to do with his son's death there would be no hope for Harry. The very least that would happen to him at his Uncle's hand would be that he would be kicked out and left to fend for himself. He would be such easy prey for Lord Voldemort. Harry suddenly felt sick. What if the accident hadn't been an accident at all?
Alive with adrenaline, Harry abandoned his bed and paced restlessly. The letter he had written the Order hours before had explained the accident and though Hedwig had returned, she hadn't brought a reply with her. Sitting at his rickety desk, he turned a quill around in his hand, his thoughts ricocheting off the walls of his mind.
Downstairs the clock read just after nine. Vernon must be with Petunia at the hospital, she hadn't looked too well. And there were probably…other matters to be attended to as well. Rummaging through the ice box and then the cupboards revealed a can of soup and some rather knocked around apples. Leaving the apples where they were, Harry picked out the can of tomato soup and hunted out the can opener.
Pouring the red liquid into a clean pot, Harry heard someone ring the door bell and then resort to impatiently knocking at the door. Puzzled, he crept into the living room to peer out the window and immediately felt his blood grow cold. Snape.
Backing away from the window, Harry fingered his wand uneasily. Though he wore no pristine white mask, the ex Death Eater was still swathed in black material. Harry checked himself. Of course he was wearing black material. He was Snape. Not entirely mollified, Harry opened the door, suspecting that if Snape was here on Death Eater business he wouldn't have bothered with a Muggle door bell anyway.
"Snape?"
"Get in." Snape's voice was as black and cold as his disposition. Complying, Harry stepped aside for his most hated teacher and bolted the door behind him. Snape's black eyes swept over the interior of the Dursley's home and for a moment looked as if he might be sick. Harry heartily agreed. "Do you find your cousin's death humorous, Potter?" Snape couldn't have sounded more victoriously disgusted.
Nevertheless, Harry sobered and instead of answering the prompt questioned, "What are you doing here?"
Snape's look of contempt darkened fractionally and he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Gryffindor, no subtly at all,' but what he said aloud was, "Headmaster Dumbledore is unconvinced that your cousin's fatality was entirely an accident."
Finally wrapping his mind around what the wizard had said, Harry could only respond, "Oh. Soup?" gesturing towards the pot still sitting on the stove. Snape sneered severely. Opening his mouth, he was interrupted by the loud roaring of Floo coming from the living room. Snape was on his feet and out the kitchen in an instant. Curious, Harry was about to follow, when Snape had returned, Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt in tow.
The tall Auror greeted Harry warmly, his rumbling voice making him feel infinitely more at peace, but instead of greeting him, Remus spoke to Snape in a corner in low tones before leaving through the door he had entered.
"Where's Remus going?" He might as well have asked the soup can and expected more of a response that he got. Shacklebolt found the shiny toaster worthy of his utmost attention and Snape merely snapped his robe and stalked out of the kitchen irritably. Harry decided to return to his soup and wait for his answers to come seek him out.
The soup began to boil steadily and satisfied, Harry took it off the stove and turned the knob to 'off'. Snape had entered and sat at the kitchen table farthest from the two as possibly, silently brooding. Shacklebolt had moved steadily from one kitchen appliance to the next so calmly and slowly as if he was at some great art museum that Harry had to bite down hard to keep from grinding his teeth. When finished with his inspection the Auror sat at the table in a neutral position as if he couldn't decide whether or not to chance sitting next to the snarky man or not.
Harry could feel eyes on his back and without looking he could tell they belonged to Snape. What they were looking for was anyone's guess, so Harry evaded the gaze by opening another cupboard for a couple bowls. His quest rewarded, he pulled them out and again asked if anyone wanted soup. Kingsley nodded once and accepted his bowl and spoon with a thank you. Snape however scowled at him as if he had killed his great aunt. Shrugging indifferently, Harry tried not to think too much on how Remus had just left without so much as a hello or goodbye. He hadn't even looked at him. Depressed, Harry put the two unused bowls away and stored the soup in the ice box. Snape was watching him again. Ignoring him, Harry left the kitchen and went up to his room. No one had stopped him yet, so Harry figured it was alright not to be stalked from room to room. Going to his desk, he sat down and tried to finish his Transfiguration essay. He dipped his quill in the ink and the nib hovered over the parchment for a moment. Harry watched, transfixed as a drop of black liquid fell from the tip of his nib and was quickly absorbed into his essay. One thought was all that was left in his head.
Dudley is dead…
Perhaps an hour later, he was interrupted from staring at the wall by a dark presence in his room. Snape's black gaze rested on the essay for a few moments before glaring at him.
"I'm surprised, Potter, family mean so little to you? You're cousin isn't dead one day and already you are fretting over homework. And after your precious loss from last term I thought you might've learned the value of life, let alone family. But then, precious Harry Potter has the world, doesn't he? Family isn't much compared to that, is it?" Snape's cruel words awaked a surge of fire, and lunging from his chair, Harry stared at Snape with righteous anger.
"Don't talk about Sirius!" he yelled furiously.
"I'll talk how I like, Potter," he snapped contemptuously. "I told you to address me as sir or professor at all times!"
"BULLOCKS!" Harry screamed, his voice raw with emotions he had locked up. "Get out of my house! Get out! GET OUT!" His body was trembling violently and through the haze of red anger he felt a spell hit him in the chest, knocking him motionless. Though his eyes remained locked on the ceiling, he could feel claw-like hands grabbing his face and forcing his mouth open. A thick, heavy liquid swept down his throat before he heard the spell releasing him and feeling thoroughly violated, Harry jerked from the grasp he found himself in and fell to the floor. The calming draught worked quickly and soon Harry felt a dull throb that used to stand for hate. Wearily, he lifted his head to watch black material sweep out the door. Blinking several times, he forced his muscles to work, pushing himself from the floor onto trembling limbs.
He felt terribly drained, but the anger at Snape was still too strong. So, pushing himself upright, Harry stumbled to the open door. The staircase had never felt so difficult to descend before but somehow he managed. Drawing his wand he searched for a curse he could use but so muddled was his brain the only thing he could think of was…
"SILENCIO!"
The effect was instantaneous. Snape, caught completely unawares was caught in the chest with the spell, robbing him of his voice. The rest of the room, which had filled with several more witches and wizards, stilled and everyone watched as Snape turned with a blood-thirsty look and attempted to round off a hex at Harry which turned out to be harmless as his voice could lend no power. Blinding rage filled Snape's eyes as he yelled soundlessly for the spell to be removed. Harry, exhausted by the emotions, the potion, and the spell, collapsed where he stood, momentarily remembering that he had used magic outside of school grounds. Could his day get any better? Apparently it could.
It must have been midnight when he awoke in someone's arms, his feet dangling as wind pinched his cheeks and nose. Wait, wind? His eyes shot open and became aware of a wide expanse of night sky surrounding him from all directions. Blinking back his sleep, he craned his neck to look around him and found himself on a soaring broom, hugged tightly to the chest of a wizard he had never seen before. He had brown hair that was tied back and the arm that snaked around his waist provided enough that Harry's imagination needed no prodding to think of this wizard as well built. Suddenly, the arm slightly slackened and a low, almost honey-like voice spoke next to his ear.
"You're awake." The statement chased away any lasting tendrils of sleep and Harry straightened marginally.
"Who are you?"
"Shh, it's dangerous to speak in such open air. The Order is here, Mr. Potter. That is all I can tell you for now."
The ride was quiet from then on, though from time to time Harry would catch sight of Kingsley or even Mad Eye in the clouds around them. The cloak he was wrapped in was wool, and a dark cherry wood brown. Burrowing within it deeper, he felt his lids grow heavy and idly wondered what had become of Snape.
Without warning the broom gave a violent jerk and Harry's eyes snapped open to find the broom speeding at break neck speed, flanked by two figures in black, white masks gleaming. The hand around his waist tightened and Harry felt the broom switch directions and swerve several times, the hot sizzle of deadly hexes warming his face as they sped past. Several times he could feel the body behind him stiffen marginally before flying on with newly inspired drive. He retrieved his wand, but before he could cast a spell the hand holding him brought his hand down within the folds of the cloak surrounding him.
"Mr. Potter, your magic, while helpful, would only bring more down upon us. Your magic would act as a flare; they attack us because they believe we are Order Members. Don't change their minds and bring them all down upon us!" The voice abruptly stopped and Harry felt the broom tip forward and begin to free fall. The arm around his waist slackened and Harry grabbed the broom desperately for balance. "Fly, Mr. Potter, don't look back! FLY!" With that the presence behind him was gone. And with him, Harry's courage. Feeling something ugly stomping around inside his stomach, Harry slid down the broom to get a better balance and urged the broom alive. Up, up, up, he went. Around him he could hear curses and shields being fired. Sweat beaded his brow and in the corner of his eye he could see a black cloaked figure give chase. Racing his broom at an unreachable speed he could feel the sizzling heat underneath him suddenly splinter his broom. With nothing under him, Harry felt himself free fall. He collided with a curse as he fell and then an immobilizing spell. Bruising fingers caught him and held him close as they raced away.
Harry's day could indeed get much worse. Closing his eyes as the spell took complete control of him, he didn't notice the smile above him belonged to none other than Death Eater Avery.
Next: Chapter 3 –At the Gates of Gehenna
Kicking out his leg he smiled with dark delight at the satisfying crunch he heard and the subsequent shriek of surprise and pain. Without looking he rolled onto his back and struck both legs out toward a pale, orb which a moment later proved to be her head as a grunt signaled a direct hit.
A/N: Special thanks to my wonderful beta, Lil Padfoot!
Saphire Phoenix, thank you for your review and hope you're still interested. Weirdcraz24, thanks for taking the time to review!
Thank you all who read it and/or put it on your alert list!