Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or his world.
Through the Furnace
Chapter One. The Place of Tears
Harry walked bare footed through the long wild grass. Wrapping his long wizarding cloak which he had burrowed from Fred Weasley, without asking, he gazed up at the crescent moon.
Harry sighed heavily and suppressed a shudder. It was a pleasant summer night but he still felt an odd numbness in his body.
A short white picket fence heralded the end of his journey. Harry pushed open the gate, which unfortunately fell off its hinges. He winced and bent half way down to pick it up but stopped short. He shrugged his shoulders blithely no one would ever know he had been here.
Harry glanced up at the broken down cottage before him. It was quite clear in the moonlight that the white paint had been peeling, the front door hung precariously by one hinge, pot plants had been disturbed and infested with weeds the original plants long dead.
Harry shivered. He must have been the first one in sixteen years to visit the old house. And in away that had a satisfaction of its own. This had been the starting point of the journey he had taken during his life. This is where he had been born… and where his parents had died.
Above his head, Harry heard the hooting of an owl. Out here in the dark it sounded melancholy and lonely.
Harry returned his gaze to his parent's old home; his home. He didn't know what he had expected to see on his trip out here. The decrepit house and grounds did not match with anything he had envisioned in his imagination. Strangely however, Harry was no disappointed. The scene before him resonated with the deep brooding in his heart. This house was no longer a place of joy… it was the catalyst for his tears. This is where it had all begun.
Harry took tentative steps forward down the garden path. All he could hear in the night air was the click of his heals on the cobblestone path. He reached the door and past under and crossed the threshold. His father would have died near here…
A moment later Harry heard a sound that set his teeth on edge; it was the sound of stone rubbing on stone… He froze. And then he heard a human grunt.
"Hello?" Harry called into the dark house. This probably wasn't his best idea. Silence was his only reply.
"Hello? Anyone there?"
A sneeze!
Harry shook himself he was definitely not alone. He raced through the house, through the kitchen decorated with peach coloured roses that had faded with time and into the backyard where he was sure he heard the sound.
He wrenched the door open too fast and too hard. It came of in his hands. He threw it to one side and down the four concrete steps just in time to see the edge of a black cloak disappear around the corner.
Without thinking Harry followed the stranger around the corner… He wasn't fast enough and a moment later the figure had apparated into the darkness.
Harry stood stock still in disbelief that he should meet someone the same night he had decided to return to his childhood home. It was most odd.
Harry wandered back to the backyard and glanced around. A sandpit with no remaining sand was home to a bed of grass and a bird bath fountain graced the centre of the yard.
Curious Harry snuck up to the bird bath no expecting to see anything exciting.
Harry walked cautiously forward and stopped by a bare patch of grass. He was standing on two flat tombstones;
'Here Lies the Remains of Lily and James Potter; Beloved Friends and Loving Parents. Fallen in Service to the Wizarding World, October 31st 1981. May They Walk in a Place Without Tears Forevermore.'
Harry read them silently. He stepped back and glanced up as if half expecting an apparition to appear. But he was alone. Dreadfully alone…
If at all possible he felt even more miserable now than when he had left the safety of Grimmauld Place.
A small breeze caught the ends of his cloak whipping the black material about his feet. His hair, which had grown longer from the neglect of the summer period also whipped his face.
Harry glanced up and for the first time singled out a stone basin that looked like it had been recently disturbed. From a distance he appraisingly glanced it over as if the object itself held deep dark magic.
Once Harry was satisfied that nothing untoward was in the basin he curiously stepped over the weeds to get a closer look. It was rather plain. Runes circled the rim but time had weathered away many of the sharp edges. The shapes now were indecisive patterns. He ran his hand long the surface and grimaced when he felt the gritty surface. It probably was made from sandstone.
A deep murky liquid was in the basin at first Harry thought it was stagnant water but it lacked the sour smell. Curiosity got the better of him and he dipped his finger in. A deep murky colour neither black nor brow stained his hand. He tried wiping it off on his robes but to no avail.
Harry spent a few minutes cursing his luck and fighting with the stain when his eyes then caught hold a piece of parchment. The parchment immediately registered in his mind as something that was out of place. It was new, crisp and the ink addressed to Mr. H Potter was still glistening wet…
He leant over and ripped the envelop over and took in the spidery scrawl over the page.
'Mr. H Potter,
No doubt your insufferable Gryffindor stupidity or curiosity led you to stick you finger in the stone basin that I left for your convenience. Therefore this letter seems unnecessary.
Enjoy the little task Dumbledore has set for you. Though little pleasure can be derived from such danger even by one such as yourself. The basin is a gift to help you find what you now seek.
I would wish you luck but as I am doubtful to your success I shall refrain from such pleasantries.'
Harry re read the letter again. Nothing made sense to him and the person did not even sign his/her name. Something about the handwriting was vaguely familiar but Harry pushed that thought aside…
Whoever it was knew of his mission from Dumbledore. Not many alive knew; not even the Minister of Magic had been told of the quest even though he pressured Harry into telling him. Furthermore, and a point that disturbed Harry even more, the sender knew he would be here…
"Around the back!" came a distinct cry.
Harry gasped wildly looking about the overgrown garden looking anywhere for a suitable hiding place. He shoved the parchment into his pockets, he would not leave a loaded message to be read by any strangers prowling about.
"Crucio!"
Harry screamed and fell to his knees snarling up at the Death Eater that appeared before him. A white bone mask was removed and he was looking up into the hated face of his ex-potions master.
"Snape," Harry hissed in way of greeting.
Snape said nothing; he only stared with his onyx eyes at the stain that was now crawling up Harry's skin. An indescribable emotion flashed through the dark pools of his eyes but a moment later it was gone.
"Potter," Snape snarled menacingly raising his wand.
"Crucio!"
"Crucio!"
"Crucio!"
Harry would have dearly liked not to have screamed as the three spells hit him mere second apart on his turned back. He would not have had his enemies see him in such agony. But as the way things go he didn't have much choice. He opened his mouth and screamed. The muscles in this throat contracted and rippled as if the screaming in itself would remove his ability to speak.
Harry tired to stand and fell over backwards to the glee of the Death Eaters… He looked down at his pale hand the murky muck was now moving feverishly. Where his fingertips were was nothing but thin air.
Harry screamed scrabbled backwards looking wildly at the Death Eaters to his disappearing body… He was disappearing at a much quicker pace now. He was fading away to nothingness.
Horror took over Harry's body and he fell backwards into an unconscious faint and the darkness gladly welcomed him.
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The End
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HOLD ON! WAIT!
It's only the beginning. : )
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