Welcome one and all to my new fic, Cherry Ghost. The title of which was decided on when listening to a song by Wilco. This is inspired by Princess Mononoke, and permission has been given by FireOpal to use bunnies from her Defence classes in this fic. Besides... I'm part of her inspiration for Defence lessons anyway... ;P
So here you go. Cherry ghost. SLASH. Wraned you more than once, not my fault if you keep reading when you don't want to.
Harry Potter screwed his eyes up in an attempt to see further than his vision permitted. It didn't work, and the horizon came now clearer. Sighing, he slipped off the window sill and sat down on his bed. His Hogwarts letter lay almost forgotten on the floor, proudly proclaiming a Quidditch Captain badge and the OWL results he had been waiting for. The door was locked, a sliver of light shining at the bottom, revealing that his aunt and uncle were still awake. His trunk lay open at the bottom of his bed, clothes scattered over the floor and schoolbooks spilling out. His wand was clutched tightly in his hand, as it had been every night for the past four weeks.
The four weeks he had so far spent with his relatives in 4 Privet Drive had been almost as uneventful as he could have hoped. Uncle Vernon had taken Moody's warning to heart and allowed Harry to study and send Hedwig off with her letters. Well, allowed was possibly too strong a word – the large man simply didn't try to stop it happening. He scowled heavily at Harry whenever he saw him, but made no attempt to provoke him. Harry was glad, but it didn't help the aching hole left it the pit of his stomach.
He tried not to dwell on it as much as he could, avoiding the matter as much as humanly possible. But the fact still remained – Sirius was dead. And as much as his friends tried to convince him otherwise, he knew deep down that he was solely responsible for his godfather's death.
But he didn't want to think about that now.
He pushed the thoughts into the deepest recesses of his mind, blocking the feelings out beneath a shimmering layer of fire beneath which he hid all his deepest thoughts. He had begun this process at the start of the holidays, forming a place within his mind where he couldn't access the thought he placed there.
His OWL results lay on the floor, proclaiming his scores.
ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTSPass Grades: Outstanding (O)Fail grades: Poor (P)
Exceeds Expectations (E) Dreadful (D)
Acceptable (A) Troll (T)
HARRY JAMES POTTER HAS ACHIEVED:
Astronomy A
Care of Magical Creatures A
Charms E
Defence Against The Dark Arts O
Divination P
Herbology E
History Of Magic P
Potions O
Transfiguration O
Overall he had been rather pleased with his results, and felt a ridiculously large pang of triumph when he saw the Outstanding for Potions. Ha, he couldn't wait to see the look on the greasy git's face when Harry turned up to his lessons next year.
He leapt to his feet again as he heard a faint flapping noise. Peering out of the window, he could vaguely see Hedwig flying back, something clutched in his her claws. His stomach feeling considerably lighter, he opened his window and allowed the owl to fly in, dropping the letter on his bed and landing on top of her cage. He ripped the letter open and began to read.
Harry,
We're all fine here. Snape is still brewing the potion for Remus, why would you think otherwise? He looked slightly offended when I checked with him, but just ignore him.
Hopefully Dumbledore will be able to arrange something soon for you to come here. It's been kind of empty without you, now Hermione and the Weasleys are here. I've come to expect you there when they are, and I'm always sort of disappointed when I don't see you come around the corner right behind them.
Remember to write very three days, or we'll come after you. You know Moody's dying to take through his threat and half-slaughter that Uncle of yours. I wouldn't mind having a go myself, if you wouldn't be too offended.
Love, Tonks
Harry smiled affectionately at the bright pink scrawl on the parchment. She had drawn little pictures on the letter (no doubt with help from a few of the Weasley clan). There was a cartoon Snape looking furious as he handed a goblet to Lupin, who drunk it and grinned at the Potions Master. There was also one of Uncle Vernon looking terrified as Moody advanced upon him, eye rolling away. Harry couldn't help but laugh as Moody's hair changed colour to bright pink. Tonks always managed to make him laugh.
He stuffed the letter into one of his drawers along with the rest of them, content for the next two days before he had to write another one. He closed the window and kicked off his slippers, sliding into the bed. It was getting a bit small – Harry suspected it was smaller than a normal bed – but hopefully he wouldn't have to live here much longer.
Suddenly he sat up and got out of bed, shuffling through his trunk. He pulled out a lighter and a pack of Muggle cigarettes and lit one, opening the window again and leaning out of it. He smoked it as fast as he could, nearly choking with one over-enthusiastic drag. It was soon down to the filter and Harry stubbed it out on the window ledge before throwing it down to the garden below. He'd have to get up early in the morning to clear them up. There must be at least five down there in the soil already just from that night. He sighed and closed the window again, stowing the lighter back into the safe confines of his trunk until the next night.
He woke up next morning to an insistent banging on his door. Odd, he thought. They hadn't done that since the start of the holidays.
"Mmm," he managed, face still half-buried in the old pillow beneath his head.
"I said get up now! Get dressed and get down here this instance!" Aunt Petunia shrieked, and Harry heard her walk back down the landing and stomp down the stairs. Wondering vaguely what he had done this time, he crawled out of bed and let Hedwig out again. He leaned out of the window and blew out puffs of misty breath in the surprisingly cool August air. Then again, it had been generally colder since the Dementors had started prowling the streets at night. Harry sometimes watched them, knowing they couldn't harm him whilst he was in the house, but wary nevertheless.
He yawned widely and gazed down at the garden, then froze stock-still, not even breathing.
The cigarette ends were gone.
He started moving frantically, shoving his wand and cigarettes into his jeans as he pulled them on and yanked a T-shirt over his head, opening the door and practically leaping down the stairs. He knew from experience that the longer you made them wait, the worse it would be. He tried to make his hair behave as he approached the kitchen door, even though it was a lost cause, and taking a deep breath he opened the door.
"Good morning," he said a bit too brightly for the likes of his rather suspicious-looking Aunt. He looked around the room. "Good morning, Uncle Vernon," he said to the large man sat at the table. He went over to the sink to wash his hands.
Suddenly something hard struck him across the side of the head, making him fall to the side, nearly onto the floor, stars dancing before his eyes. He blinked the dizziness away and peered at his red-faced Uncle.
"How dare you!" Uncle Vernon raged. "How dare you smoke these… these things in my house! These wizard things, I bet they make people hallucinate and everything!" he was holding a plastic tray out, shaking it in front of Harry, the stubs of the fags rattling around on top of it. Harry supposed Aunt Petunia would probably have picked them up wearing rubber gloves and using a pair of tweezers, both of which would have been sterilised straight after.
"Up to your room and pack your stuff up now!" Vernon yelled, his face an alarming shade of purple. "NOW!" he bellowed when Harry didn't move. The skinny boy scrambled out of the kitchen and up the stairs, slamming the door shut behind himself. The first thing he did was go to Hedwig, who was devouring a mouse in her cage.
"Hedwig you have to go. The Dursleys are mad and I think they're going to try something. Take this note to Tonks." He said hurriedly, and scribbled a short note.
In trouble. Don't know what they're going to do. Help.
He tied it to Hedwig's leg and she flew off without further ado. He watched her get smaller and smaller until she was out of sight, then turned and began throwing stuff into his trunk. In five minutes flat every last item was packed in, including the birthday cake he sill had left from the end of July that he hid under the floorboards. He was considering what to do with Hedwig's cage when the door burst open and Uncle Vernon, doing an absolutely wonderful impression of a beetroot, came storming in.
"That's it! You've had enough time! Leave that damn cage, you're coming with me!" he bellowed like an angry hippo. He grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him from the room and down the stairs. Harry felt a disturbingly comforting pang when he saw where they were going. It was only his cupboard. Vernon threw him in. "You stay right there or you're in trouble," he hissed vehemently and stormed back upstairs to fetch Harry's trunk, which soon came flying in as well. Harry yelped as it landed heavily on his foot, causing a spike of acute pain to shoot up his leg. Swearing, he hauled it into the corner. Vernon slammed the door shut and locked it about five times from the outside. He opened the small window and leered down at Harry.
"I think you'll find that all you need is right there," he said scathingly, then slammed the widow shut and Harry was left in darkness. He fumbled for the light switch and was pleased to see that it still worked. He peered into the far corner. There was a large red bucket and a large jug of water. Next to them was a plate with a few slices of bread on it.
Oh, fucking hell…
They were going to keep him here for the whole of the next two weeks.
By the second day Harry really needed to piss. And he smelled something awful. He pounded on the door as he heard someone walk by.
"Please! I need the toilet, and I need a shower! Please let me out!"
He was rewarded by the little grate slamming open and Vernon's bulging face squashing against it.
"I told you boy, you've got everything you need right there," the grate slammed shut again. Harry looked back in the corner. The jug was still three-quarters full, and he had eaten half of one of the slices of bread. It only just dawned on him what the red bucket was for.
Face burning with humiliation, he pulled it out of the corner, positioned himself over it and released his bladder. His face was bright red, even though there was nobody to see him, and it kept splashing out and landing on his blankets.
Great. Now he would be sleeping in piss.
He moved awkwardly to lie down. His foot still ached where the trunk had landed on him, and he was afraid that it might be sprained or broken.
By day four no help had arrived. Harry was becoming desperate. He couldn't smoke, his bucket was half full already, he'd finished the bread and most of his water had gone. Whenever he asked for more they would simply snarl and ignore him, saying he should have made what he had last. Well, at least he had enough time to study for school.
By the end of the first week, there was still no help. Harry was curled up in the corner, thirsty and starving. He needed a drink so badly, but the water had run out last night. He hadn't eaten for three days and it was beginning to take its toll on him. He licked his lips and tried to moisten his mouth with saliva. Damn it.
He was asleep when it began. But he woke soon enough
The explosions were enough to wake anyone, was his first thought. Even someone who's starving and emaciated.
He sniffed the air, and immediately choked on the fumes. He could smell burning – burning everything – and panicked. The house was on fire, and he was stuck. His hand disappeared under his blanket, seizing his wand and yanking it out.
"Alohomora!" he yelled, practically smacking his wand against the door. He tried to push it open but it wouldn't budge. He tried again but the result was the same. "Accio keys!" he tried, but nothing happened. He was about to attempt to transfigure the door into something else when he heard another incantation.
"MORSMORDRE!"
He froze. That's why he couldn't open the door – it would have been spelled shut. But then, they shouldn't be able to harm him. After all, the blood protection should ensure that. So why was he in this problem? He waited for someone to come and take him away to Hogwarts, or maybe even Grimmauld Place, to see all his friends. That would be the best option, he guessed. At least that way he'd be with people he knew.
He coughed to clear his throat, then found that he couldn't stop. The smoke from the fire was seeping in through the vent of the door, and was beginning to suffocate him. He lay down on his back, knowing that the smoke wouldn't settle to the floor. He closed his eyes, only once considering using his wand again. Someone would come soon enough. And if they didn't… well, he would go meet his mum and dad at last.
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