Harry potter and the curse of Feanor

Chapter One – Forever Unbound

"Well that's just it isn't it?" he said, tilting his head back and draining the beer he had been waving as he spoke animatedly.

"No one knows, he could be anywhere middle of the jungle, middle of the bloody town. It's a mystery."

The man had been sat in the bar, in the usual spot he always occupied, third stool from the far wall, in front of the taps in the bar, his leather jacket fading to grey where use and age had ravaged it. His bright ginger hair was being held back by a bandana and on his finger a silver ring glinted in the dim lights of the bar. The Fox's Folly was a local haunt for most like him. Bikers, rockers, they all came here to drink and relax, as was shown by the chromed bikes parked outside and the dried blood on the floor.

Another beer had been placed on his tab by now and he was well into it, talking to his new best friend.

"Now buddy, what I'm gonna tell you now, you can't tell anyone, you understand?"

He said, leaning close and barely audibly talking over the Thin Lizzy being played on the juke box

"I… was… there. Yep, saw it all. Massive bang blinding light, the lot. He was a mate of mine, went all through school with him and then he goes and gets himself lost. He's not dead though, I can feel it in my bones"

He said, taking another long draught of the beer

"I can feel it in my being, he's not dead. He'll be back."

Ron put down his empty bottle and slowly stood up, reaching to his pocket he put a 20 pound note on the bar and said goodnight to the bar maid, making his way to the door. Once outside he pulled his shoulders in against the bitter cold, it was December, a week until Christmas, facing the ground he made his way home, along the pavement in the dim orange glow of the street lights that were spaced along the road. He had moved to Nottingham after the war to continue his hunt for death eaters, something highly illegal to both the wizard and muggle world. The remnants of the dark lord's forces had now scattered and were all clutching at straws, a small force had apparently been raised in the cave system, under the city, the ancient caves harbouring the vampires and other desperate people the deatheaters bewitched or bribed into their service. As he made his way through the suburbs, the Victorian houses passing, he moved towards his flat. Nothing big or special, it came with the job he was doing to sustain himself while he carried out his destiny. After all, revenge doesn't pay well.

Making his way towards the door, footsteps crunching in the snow, leaving the imprint of his boots behind him, a realisation dawned on him. He was being tracked. Deciding to try and see who it was Ron carried on past his flat and carried on to the end of the road. Moving fairly quickly, he turned a corner, his friend was about 50 feet behind him so he didn't have long to act. Drawing his wand, he disillusioned him self and stood against the wall, as the man from the bar passed him he grabbed him by the mouth, putting his wand to the guy's throat he quickly muttered

"scilencio, stupefy" feeling a dead weight, he knew it was safe to move.

"Who are you with?"

The bright light shined in the young mans youthful face, squinting he choked

"My master shall come for you"

"He doesn't care. Give me your left arm." Not waiting for an answer he took it, pulling it to the table he had set up. The room was obviously an attic space, sloping tiles proved that, in the middle of this space sat the man who had been caught, strapped into a sturdy chair by thick leather straps around his waist and ankles, the straps also covering his right arm. On the small table there was another strap. One end bolted down to the table, the other left. Ron took his arm and he pinned it down to the table, pulling the strap across he took the nails on the table and pointed his wand at them, they stood erect, point down and forced them selves in the table.

"Right, you gonna tall me or am I gonna force it out of you?"

Saying nothing, the now totally restrained man looked in to Ron's eyes. Reaching into a sports bag, Ron said "you will talk."

He took from the bag a mallet and a large spike, made from what looked like a baseball bat, by sharpening one of the ends. Putting this point down in the middle of the young mans forearm he said "last chance mate. Its not like I enjoy this" a sentence escaped the mans lips that made Ron's blood boil

"My regards to the mud blood."

Ron lifted the mallet and swung down, hitting the top of the spike hard as it drove between the bones in the lower arm breaking them. Both men screamed, and Ron, moved towards him, barely millimetres from his face, the veins in his forehead bulging he screamed

"WHO IS IT? TELL ME SCUM TELL ME!"

Pulling the spike out of his captives arm blood cascaded down onto the floor, soaking into the roof insulation, turning it a deep red. Just as his eyes closed he gave Ron the information he needed.

"Feanor." the man's head sunk into his chest and his eyes closed, he would bleed to death soon.

Sat that night on his sofa, the television showing a late night game show Ron thought about her, the only person he had given his heart to, gone. But he had had to do it. There was no way he could be happy until they were all gone. Besides, she was happy. He was sure she would survive without him.

The following morning Molly Weasley awoke to a snow covered scene, the trees all around her house were covered, the path was covered and for some reason, the sink was covered.

"FABAIN!" she yelled towards the stairs "are you or your brother anything to do with this! You have one minute until I come up there and there better be an explanation ready!"

She didn't mind really, she missed having Fred and George around, the house seemed dead once they had moved out, and as everyone knows, she is a mother hen.

Two red blurs came galloping down the stairs, both giving hurried explanations ranging from "he did it" to "a snowman tried to climb into the house through the drains" they were both five and just as their father had been at that age, balls of energy.

"I don't care whose it is, I just want it gone. Or there will be no breakfast."

The hurried cleaning showed that they also thought like Fred. Coming down the stairs yawning, came a woman with bushy brown hair, still in her night clothes she sat down at the table as molly brought her a cup of tea and gave her usual "morning dear". Hermione wasn't actually family, but she was as close as anyone could be, and in the aftermath of the war, as close as she should be.

The fallout from the final war had been hard for both Hermione and Ron; Ron had started to drink heavily, not being able to cope with the loss of his friend. Hermione had been upset, but in her way, keeping busy constantly. This had annoyed both parties, and it led to massive rows between them. Less than 2 months after the death of voldemort and the disappearance of Harry, Ron had left, leaving only a note saying

I can't do this Hermione, I love you, but they need to be gone.

After that no one had seen him or had any contact with him. That was nearly a year ago now and although recovering, molly would still find her in Ron's room. Just staring at the same picture of them together, sat under the willow in the garden, Ron leaning on the tree with his legs drawn up, Hermione with her back on his legs reading.

Ginny was the next downstairs, dressed for work, she greeted her mother and friend and walked onto the living room to apply her make up and do her hair. After her part in the fight, she had taken a post as an ambassador for the ministry, working in countries with a wizard population. At the moment her job involved her going back and forth to Washington, to talk with the American ministry, the A.M.C. or American Magic Congress as it was known. She obviously enjoyed her work, but as everyone who knew her said, she was less herself. The old Ginny would have never been able to be a politician. Never mind a successful one, her temper was too weasley.

She had been hurt most, and they all knew it, after Dumbledore's funeral she had been forced to watch from the outside, never being able to get close again, seeing Harry find the horcruxes and grind himself into dust, under the pressure from the press from the ministry, but mostly from himself. No one gave him a harder time than he did. After it had been confirmed that voldemort had been destroyed then it seemed to her that Harry would come back, but first one day passed, and he wasn't seen, then a week, then a month, and it seemed that all hope was lost, a statue was dedicated to him and the day declared a national day of celebration. Ginny would never smile on that day as long as he was alive and not with her however, she knew he was alive, the burning fire in her chest when she thought of him, the way she could still smell him, the memories that seemed so short a time ago, which refused to fade in her mind. These all told her that he was still there, somewhere without her, somewhere he shouldn't be. Sometimes she would unintentionally torture herself, imagining him with another woman, laughing with her, kissing her, walking with her in his arms. This usually came in her sleep; her dreams had gotten so bad around his birthday that she couldn't sleep without a sleeping draught.

July 31st as most people celebrate, one young woman kneels down in front of a marble slab, and slowly places a rose on the gravel in front of it. Slowly getting to her feet and backing away she takes in the surroundings, the property she is at belongs to the potter lineage going back generations Godric's hollow was their ancestral home, yet now, it would fall into disrepair once more, Harry had re built the house from its wreck, going from the few photos he had of the house to get it exact, Ginny looked at the white painted walls, the thatch on the roof and thought about what could have been, it did not do to dwell on dreams, but she couldn't help it, she longed with all her heart to be here, with Harry just like his parents had been, the house was a family house, and it had the same feel to her as the burrow, she could have called it home.

"It's strange, the first time we've both been here, and it's to visit my grave"

Ginny's eyes fluttered open to see a dark haired wizard who was sat nest to her, she was laying, her head propped up on the arm of a settee.

"I took the liberty of giving you a calming draught Gin, you look a bit peaky." Said the wizard looking directly into her eyes, as she had dreamed he would for so long.

"Harry?" she asked, uncertainly. The wizard raised a finger to his lips and shushed her

"Relax Ginny, let me get you some water" he said, now going to the kitchen, which was adjoining to the room they were in now,

"I didn't think anyone would be here" he said, returning with a glass of water "I honestly didn't know the date, it's been so long, how have you been?"

"How have I been?"

"HOW HAVE I BLOODY WELL BEEN! HOW ABOUT WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN! WANT TO TRY THAT?"

"Ginny calm down."

"Calm down?" she said, now pacing the room, her arms swinging wildly as she spoke to him

"It's been TWO years Harry. Do you know what's happened in two years? Do you? No? I'll fill you in then. Ron's gone, thinks he's some big bad hunter now, but the truth is he's missing his best mate. Hermonie's barely existing since he's gone, she's heart broken. Doesn't even research anymore, just cries for a big chunk of the day."

She sat down, fuming, despite the draught, she wanted to choke him, but wanted to hold him at the same time, but he just sat there, looking at her, his green eyes boring into her very soul

"Say something then" she said, they were sat next to each other on the sofa, the only real furniture in the house.

"I'm sorry gin, but I had to get away, I couldn't bare it. I'm back now, I saw the events that have been happening and it's not a good thing. This time, it's got to stop before it starts. It has to. This time I know it's not my thing to do, but I'm going to, I need to so that there's a future, for your family, for all of the wizards in England, but I've realised, I want one as well."

Tears filled both their eyes as he said this, it was obvious to Ginny that the last bit was hardest to say, Harry found self sacrifice easy, but he could never put himself first. Now he had realised that he needed to do this.

"But why stay gone so long? And why not just go straight ahead with whatever you need to do?"

"I realised I had forgot something I left in the end of my sixth year" he said, they had moved closer, looking directly at each other she whispered to him

"What was it Harry, what was so important?"

"You."

A/N

TaDa! So what do you think? I'm happy with it for now, in the last 3 months it's the seventh I've started. And finally I think I have one good enough. Next chapter where was he? Who is Feanor? Which song I like will I use for the chapter title? Might be a long time though, as I'm going on an archaeology dig, so keep the faith.