Not My Life
Summery: An attack on Privet Drive leaves Harry with no memory. Voldemort takes advantage of his rivals disadvantage and teaches him.
Chapter One
Attack on Privet Drive
"Harry!" A shrill voice carried through the bedroom door. "Harry!" it came again. The said boy barely kept his groan from escaping.
Harry Potter was the boy Petunia Dursley begrudgingly called nephew. A few weeks ago he had come home from his school, though this was not an ordinary school. Hogwarts was a magical school and Harry was a wizard; a very well known wizard, much to his disliking, for defeating Lord Voldemort when he was only one years old.
This past school year; his fourth year, had not been a very good one to Harry. The TriWizard Tournament was held at Hogwarts and Harry's name had been placed in the Goblet of Fire. The Goblet of Fire decided he was a competitor and he had been forced to compete in three competitions. The first getting a dragons egg from a very mean dragon; the second, to retrieve a friend from the black lake from Grindelows. And the third, to make his way through a dangerous maze.
Something went wrong with the maze. Harry and Cedric Diggory; the other Hogwarts competitor, grabbed the Goblet which turned out to be a portkey that took them to a graveyard. At the graveyard Cedric was killed and Harry was forced to watch Voldemort's rebirth and then duel the snake-like man. Harry managed to get away by grabbing the portkey along with Cedric's lifeless body back to Hogwarts.
It was early morning and it was time for him to cook breakfast, his morning chore. He heard his aunt's footsteps as she climbed down the stairs and to the first floor. Sliding from the bed he blurrily looked around his bed room; his cousins discarded and broken toys laid in a pile on the floor, his trunk lay at the foot of his bed and a wardrobe next to his bed. Putting on his glasses he blinked as things came into focus before quickly gathering clothes for the day and dressing before heading downstairs to begin breakfast.
"Cook the bacon, and don't burn anything like last time!" Aunt Petunia ordered as she cut up some fruit.
She was trying to get Dudley and her husband, Vernon Dursley, to loose some weight. From the little things Harry could gather, Dudley's school was complaining about his weight and saying he would be kicked off the boxing team if he didn't reach a more healthy weight. Vernon of course was enraged by this, saying his son was perfect for boxing and that everyone else on the team needed to gain weight in order to properly box. But not wanting to risk his son's expulsion from the team conceded something needed to be done.
Within half an hour breakfast was complete and Vernon and Dudley waddled down into the kitchen before they filled they're plates to the brim and began stuffing they're faces full. It didn't take long for the food to be devoured and Vernon went to work. Dudley went into the living room to play his new game system that his father had bought a few days earlier while Petunia busied her self looking through the latest home designer magazine after having trust a list in Harry's hand.
Wash the breakfast dishes
Weed the garden
Dust the house
Wash the linings
Make lunch
Make dinner
(And they had better be done by the time I get home!)
Sighing Harry set to work. Vernon would be home by five.
By two o'clock Harry had finished weeding the garden (as well as planting a few new flowers his aunt had bought, "The Best Neighborhood Yard contest will be starting soon and I need my yard to be in top shape," Aunt Petunia had said), he had also made lunch and washed both breakfast and lunch dishes. Now all he had were dusting, laundry and dinner.
Harry coughed as the fumes from the spray he was using to dust floated in the air. He hated the smell, but he was glad today's chores hadn't involved any heavy chemicals, like chlorine. They always burnt his skin. He jumped and dropped his rag and spray bottle. A loud crash sounded from somewhere downstairs, and his aunt had screamed. 'What is going on,' Harry wondered as he slowly crept to the railing of the stairs. All he could see were shadows from this vantage point.
"Avada Kedavra!" a male voice hissed. 'A wizard!' the thought struck Harry like a ton of bricks. His uncle had taken his wand when he had returned from King's Cross station. He had no way of defending himself against a full blown wizard. Creeping down the stairs slowly, trying to not make any sound, he reached the bottom. From here he could see a little more, but not much. He could see the entrance of the living room, but everyone must be towards the other end. 'What should I do now?' he asked himself.
The decision was made from him when he heard someone say 'stupfey' and a red jet of light flew over his head. Quickly he tried to run from the house. Last year he had learned Miss Figg, his old baby sitter, was in fact a witch. He made it into the kitchen but hesitated as he heard a scream. 'Dudley!' his mind cried.
That moments hesitation was all that was needed for whomever had entered Privet Drive. An arm reached around his shoulders. On instinct he began to struggle; lashing out he managed to hit his captor in the face and knew he had gotten a good hit when the man cried, "Brat!" before pushing him in the wall. Getting his wits about him rather quickly he made a run for it again before he felt himself pushed before he lost his balance; his head hit hard on the kitchen table before he fell to the floor caught somewhere between blacking out and dazed. He couldn't really comprehend anything more then a shadow that now stood over him before he heard a 'stupfey' and he was lost in a sea of darkness.
"Have you got him?" A gruff voice asked from the doorway.
"Yeah," the man who had struggled with Harry turned to his partner. The man in the doorway laughed.
"You can't even stun the boy without getting hurt!" he teased. Touching his now bleeding cheek he glared at his partner.
"I tried but he ducked. Must be those Quidditch skills," he commented. "Come on, we need to get the Potter brat back before the Dark Lord gets angry. Have you finished with the two Muggles?"
"Of course."
Blinking he looked around the blurry room he was laying in. He couldn't see clearly but somehow didn't know if this place could rightly be called a room. It was cold and dark; the floor was sticky with something. Reaching out to touch the ground beneath him he brought his hand close to his face to examine the red stuff.
'Blood,' he realized.
'But where did the blood come from?' examining himself he winced as he touched his face. There was a large cut over his forehead and a deep bruise was beginning to form.
'Where did I get that from?' then another thought struck him.
'Who am I?' Slowly he began to push himself into a sitting position. His head hurt badly. The pounding in his ears were almost deafening. He cried out as he attempted to put pressure on his right arm.
He heard a clicking sound before light flooded into the room. Brining up the uninjured arm to shield his eyes from the blinding light he waited until the light faded before slowly bringing his arm down. Standing in front of him were three people. All three wore black, but the one in the middle, and closest to him, had red eyes and a snake like appearance. He seemed in charge judging by the stance of the three men.
"Who are you?" He asked before asking another important question, "Who am I?"
He never heard the answer, if an answer ever came, because the pounding in his ears increased and his vision blurred into black before he lost consciousness.
The three men standing over him were quiet for a moment before the middle one spoke in a decisive manor. "I want you to get Crabb and have him examine the boy." Turning he began to leave the cell before pausing. "Also, set the boy up comfortably." Then he left the two Death Eaters in they're stunned silence before they quickly did as he asked.
End of Chapter One
3/12/06
A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you like the rewritten version of Not My Life. Thank you for reading and please REVIEW! I love reading your reviews!
Next Chapter:
Crabb's diagnoses
Voldemorts plan
(I don't know what else yet)