Harry Potter and the Star of Senkrad

Author: l'Ciel

Fandom: Harry Potter

Disclaimer: JKR, and some more I think – I don't own anything but the plot – oh, and Ice Drakes, that's mine too! And that sexy nurse (god bless her brainless boobs)

Rating: hard R for implicit sexual content, NC-17 for explicit sexual content

Warnings: violence, brain washing, non-con,

Pairings: HP/DG, SS/LM; side pairings: HP/BZ, NM/LM

Genre: Action/Adventure, Romance, Angst

Summary : After the events of OotP, Harry runs away from the Dursleys. The only one to find him is Snape, but where do the spy's loyalties truly lie? Slash & Het, war-story

Main characters: Harry, Snape, Lucius, Voldemort, Dumbledore


20) Godric's Hollow

The sun was slowly descending, bathing the landscape in shades of pink and gold when Harry left the woods behind. Wandering along a muddy track between the hills he saw the lights of a plane in the darkening sky. The sounds of cars on a larger motorway broke the silence after he had rounded another hill and soon he could see the Muggle vehicles passing. A weathered sign read Failand, three miles. He couldn't remember ever hearing the name of that town or village, whatever it was, so he waited until fewer cars passed and crossed the street. A lorry nearly caught him and the driver yelled out of the window, but Harry had already hid in the bushes near the road. Heading further west, he passed another smaller gathering of trees. The motorway was still audible and from it an old track led past his way. The road looked as if nobody had passed in years, dirt and rotten leaves covering most of the old tar. Deciding he should try to find some shelter better than the trunk of a tree he walked along that road, hoping to find some isolated shed or old farmhouse.

Or so he hoped…

Just behind a turn the road suddenly ended. An old unreadable sign was nailed against a rotting wooden post and behind that was only a small valley. Confused, and highly irritated, Harry stepped fore to examine the area more closely when a shiver in the air reflected the rays of the sinking sun.

Alerted, he crept forwards, until he could touch the barrier. Definitely magic!

No! It couldn't be. But what if the old man had said the truth? Was it possible that while he had strayed through the woods he had found his home? Swallowing hard with the looming disappointment he would most likely experience soon, he pressed his hand against the barrier and... walked through. In front of him he saw a cottage. It looked abandoned and weathered, the lawn overgrown with weeds and ivy ranking at the walls.

The roof was leaky in some places where the storm had thrown down the pans. The mortar was crumbling out between the reddish stones and the lacquer on the window frames was peeling off. The garden gate was squeaking in its angles when Harry pushed it open. The red paint had nearly completely vanished under the corrosion of the iron gate, giving it the rusty colour of dried blood. The path to the front door was tiled with heavy grey stone blocks, but some had cracked over the decades. Telling from the style of the building, as far as Harry knew it must have been built around the beginning of the century. The front door was locked and even with force it wouldn't bulge.

If this was really his parent's house...


Percy sat behind his sister on a huge armchair in the library. She had snoozed off on his lap some minutes ago. All his thoughts were turning around one point, but he absolutely could not concentrate. And even worse - right now was a time he decidedly needed to think; Harry Potter was missing since four months and a few days, his home had been raided and burned down, the Ministry was a head of inconsequent dunderheads, the crowd in uproar and he couldn't understand himself anymore. In short – his world was turned inside-out and upside-down.

Last year he had trusted his bosses so much he had actually written his brother a letter to abandon his friend and now that friend was missing and his brother heavily injured. His parents were busy with the Order and their own problems, Charlie and Bill somewhere off to help, too. The twins had retreated to their room some time ago and seemed to comfort themselves and Ginny had eventually curled up against him. At least those who had held their grudge against him during yesterday evening where quiet – at least for now.

And Ron... was still not awake. Although the healers said it was completely normal and a healing sleep, Percy worried greatly for his youngest brother. Blinking blearily, he shut his eyes and soon dozed off, snoring softly.


Harry had tried the front and back doors, the lower windows and even the garage door, and that was even more rotten then the rest. But everything had stood against his force. He suspected the barriers were strengthened by magic, no wood that old could be so strong. Irritated by this seemingly impossible task to enter the damned building, he tried a last attempt: climbing onto the windowsill and then onto the upper hinge of the shutter. Balancing his weight, he held onto the drainpipe that was attached to the wall near the balcony. He fastened his hands around the edge of the balcony and steadied himself, before pulling himself up until he could stem his feet against the wall and pull in the same time. Breathing heavily, he managed to reach the upper side of the railing and swung his legs onto the safe side. Luckily the glass door from the balcony inside was broken, so he could simply step through. It seemed breaking into a house was easier than he had thought, even without magic!

Climbing above a broken cradle he realized that – if this was actually his home – then this must have been the room where Voldemort killed... his mother. And just then he stared into her sad eyes. Oil and green pigment gazed at him and rosy lips formed a gentle smile. But she never said a word. It took him some time to avert his gaze. He felt her smile in his back, while he examined the room more closely.

The furniture was mostly in good condition, apart from the broken cradle on the floor, the shards of the window and the splintered wood of the door that led out into a dark corridor. There were some scorch marks at the wall next to a large wardrobe and a shattered mirror on the wall opposite the door. The wood of furniture and floor was dark with a reddish tint. The dusty curtains and sheets on the bed, as well as the drapes attached to the cradle, were of soft blue fabric. His mother's portrait looked at him intently and lifted a hand towards the door. He smiled back, emotions burning high in his chest.

The corridor led to a small staircase to the lower level of the house. Another door led to a second room on the upper level, a nursery. So this would have been his room, right?

There was only a small bed, fitting for an infant, but certainly too small for him now, a dresser and a shelf with some baby toys on it. Nothing more.

Downstairs he ventured through a comfortable looking living-room into a small kitchen and back. The dining table in the middle of the room was thrown to the side and parts of it splintered, as if somebody had hidden behind it to evade a curse.

Was this the place where his father had died?

The couch in the corner of the room was broken in half and the wall behind it had some cracks, where weeds had grown. The air inside was nearly as cold as outside. Sighing, he slumped down on one of the armchairs near the couch, across the fireplace. It was then that he noticed some dark patches on the floor behind the table.

He didn't know whether it was just some water leaking through some hole in the roof, but maybe it was his father's blood. Kneeling beside the dark spot, he grazed his fingers over the dirty wood he thought he had touched something, and then he heard his father's shouts like he did when dementors neared him. The screaming of his mother followed and became louder and louder. The silence of the room and the shouts in his head clashed wildly and for a moment he felt dizzy. Shaking his head, he climbed up the stairs again. He was terribly cold. Yawning, he bade his mother's portrait goodnight and returned to 'his' room. Crawling under the fluffy sheets in the tiny bed, tired from the long walk, he fell asleep straight away.


He left the house through the backdoor and ran through the garden in the back of the valley. The silvery stag danced merrily in front of him and he followed and soon a wolf and a large dog joined them. A woman waved over to them from the house and he smiled back. Suddenly green light flashed out of the darkness behind the bushes and the stag stumbled, before it keeled over. A wheezing sound came from somewhere and the dog howled, before a flying piece of cloth swapped it away. The wolf tried to help it, but a man with a silver hand appeared and strangled the canine's throat until the whimpering stopped and it died. The woman screamed as a huge snake coiled around her and Harry, stunned by the sudden attack, tried to run to her, but his feet had sunken into the ground. The mud blubbered around his ankles and he slipped deeper, unable to free himself. The snake hissed and smashed his mother's bones, crushing her body to pulp. He screamed and cried, but Dumbledore, who stood behind him, lectured him that he needed to follow the prophecy, and then he transformed into Snape and scolded him for being a horrible student. The cruel thing then switched to Hermione, who cried that he had betrayed all muggle-born witches and wizards by joining him and she wouldn't listen when he tried to explain that he had been under the Imperius. Then she changed into Fudge and sentenced him to death by beheading him and everybody stood around him and goaded, while Macnair stepped forward and again and again hit onto his neck with a blunt axe. The nearly-headless Nick stood near him and offered consolation, but Harry just screamed and nobody listened to his claims of innocence.


Good - bad? Tell me, lCiel