Forbidden Chaos Chapter 3

By DarknessMatters

Alright, I got five more reviews, which is alright. Thank you to those who bothered. It really does make a difference.

Hagrids dialogue is freaking impossible! I'm sorry if I butchered it, but I did the best I could.

Harry sat there, petrified, barely able to breathe, and stared with widened eyes at the large... thing that stood at his doorway. It took the shape of a man, that Harry was positive about, but he had never seen a man as large as this one. The head of the figure hit the seven foot high doorway. If Harry stood with his hand reached up above his head and he jumped, he still wouldn't be able to touch that frame.

The the figure took a step forward, and impossibly, Harry felt his eyes widening even more when he realized that the figure had been ducking to get past the frame. He watched at the figure stood up to it's full hight, with it's head nearly hitting the rather high ceiling of the hut. Oh god, Harry though. The minute I get away from the Dursleys, and I get murdered by some freaky think that had no right to exist in their minds. How fucking ironic.

At the thought of his relatives, his mind automatically went to his Aunt's reaction at seeing this man. He wanted to laugh, but was still a bit too petrified. She'd probably just pass out. Wouldn't be very entertaining at all.

When the man walked into the glow of the lamp Harry had set up next to the couch, Harry saw that the thing was, indeed, a man, albeit a rather humongous one. Although the storm was still trying it's worst to do as much damage as humanly possible, Harry couldn't see it, although the door was wide open behind the man. That's how big he was. Taller than the already tall doorframe, and just as wide. Harry could hear the storm though. With the man standing there looking down at him, and the rain slamming into the side of the hut and the sound of thunder echoing in the small space with the door open, the man was pretty damn intimidating.

He stared at Harry with small, beady black eyes, with a wild tangle of black hair that took over maybe eighty percent of his face. He wore an overlarge (although maybe not for him) moleskin coat covered with more pockets than Harry cared to count. In his left hand, a hand that was probably the size of the lid on a garbage can, he carried a small pink umbrella. Because of the umbrella, Harry was thrown off from his initial reaction of trying to get away from the man that just broke into his house. Or so he told himself.

"'appy Birthday, 'arry!" The voice was deep and rumbled like the coming of an avalanche. The thought didn't make Harry feel better.

He wanted to open his mouth and ask how the man knew it was his birthday. Actually, he wanted to ask who, or what, the man was. Instead, he opened his mouth, and hesitated, wondering if was the brightest idea to converse with this man, only prolonging whatever was about to happen. In his hesitation, the man raised his umbrella.

"It's right cold in here 'arry, you ought to have yourself a fire."

Before Harry could come up with something that went along the lines of 'Of course it's cold, dumbass, you broke the door", the giant muttered something that Harry didn't quite catch and a streak of orange light flew out from the end of the umbrella and hit the fireplace, where it immediately went up in flames.

Finally, Harry was able to move, and he leapt up, nearly falling back down because he had been in the same position for so long, and ran for the stairs leading up the the bedroom. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have realized that running upstairs would only be trapping himself and it would probably make the gigantic man even more mad, but he didn't particularly care.

"'ARRY!" the man yelled after him, but Harry didn't turn to look.

He felt, as well as heard, thundering footsteps coming after him, and it reminded him strongly of 'Harry Hunting', a game his cousin had invented with his friends to see who could catch him first. Whoever one always got the first punch, while the others held his arms behind his back. If he had learned anything from the game, it was how to move fast, and how to anticipate how fast other people were. Because of the giant man's bulk, Harry predicted that he would take up distance quickly because of his height, but move slower than he could have because of his weight. So...nearly as fast as him. The thought wasn't pleasant, and Harry made it to the rickety staircase and sprinted up them, literally going forward and moving faster with his hands. Embarrassing, but if it made him move faster, than what the hell. By the time he made it to the top of the steps, the man had made it to the bottom of the staircase. Harry ran into one of the bedrooms, and threw himself underneath one of the old beds. He couldn't think straight, and he could only lay there, shivering with something that was not the cold, folding his arms around himself tightly, trying to hold as still as he possibly could. Please don't find me, he though. Please.

He heard the first footstep fall on the stairs. The man was moving slowly now, probably because the man had realized that he had cornered Harry, and there was nowhere for him to go. Then the second footstep.

Harry closed his eyes in anticipation of the third, but instead of the thump that accompanied the previous two, he heard a large crack, and a crumbling sound. The man shouted in pain, but there were to more footsteps.

"'ARRY!"

Nope, not moving. He was not budging. The staircase had probably collapsed under the weight of the man, and Harry was incredibly grateful. He hadn't cleaned the stairs yet, only because he almost never went upstairs, so the cleaner that magically fixed the hardwood floors downstairs had not fixed the staircase. It was still old and rotted. Thank you, he thought.

But now what was he going to do? He was hiding underneath a bed, stuck upstairs, with a crazy man with a pink umbrella that had magical powers downstairs.

"'arry!" The man sounded calmer, but Harry didn't let that fool him. "I didn' mean to scare you! Come downstairs!"

Like hell! Maybe he could crawl out a window, and hope the wind didnt take him off the roof. Even if it did, it was surely better than whatever the man had in mind. He started to crawl out from under the bed. He stood up and brushed himself off.

Then something happened that he wasn't expecting. He jerked. It was a feeling that came from his stomach, a fierce tugging sensation, and it sent him to the floor. What the...? Then he was sliding across the floor towards the doorway.

"NO!" he screamed. He spun around on his stomach, still sliding, and tried to grab onto anything he could find. The bedpost, which nearly tore his arms out of their sockets. The rug, which slipped easily out of his hand. Then the hardwood floor, which just tore up his fingernails. He swept past the doorframe, grabbing at it and wrenching his arms again

"Let go of me!" Harry couldn't breath. He didn't know what was going on. One second he was safe, and the next... "God damn it! Stop it!"

He got closer and closer to the stairs, and when he got to them, his body was flung over the first step. He half tumbled, and was half dragged down the staircase and he could see the man now. He was standing in the middle of the living room by the couch with his pink umbrella raised, and it was aimed at Harry.

He was dragged across the hole the man had made in the stairs, and his ankle promptly got caught in it as he tried to stop himself any way he could. There was a popping sound, and a terrible pain, and Harry was dragged on. He stopped when he was in front of the man, and he lay there, unable to think of anything to do but gasp painfully and stare up at the man.

"'arry, I'm so sorry 'bout that. I need to talk to you, and it's urgent. 'fessor Dumbledore is waiting on this."

Professor Dumbledore? Wait. Harry remembered that name. It was familiar. His mind spun in circles, still unable to grasp what had just happened to him. Professor Dumbledore...the letter!

"The school?" he asked dumbly. It was the only think his mind could think of to say.

The man above him puffed out his chest in pride. Harry's fear was starting to wither. He began to feel anger replace it. The man had broken down his door, stomped into his hut, chased him up the stairs, and dragged him back down, breaking his ankle in the process! Darkness began to creep into his vision and he shook his head to clear it. No, not now. Now was not the time.

"Yea, the school," said Hagrid, as if just remembering. "I'm to bring you to the school. Somethin's 'appened with your relatives."

"My relatives?"

"Oops, i shouldn' a said that. Just ignore that, alright 'arry? The 'fessor will explain everything."

"I'm not attending this school." Harry put as much disgust and hatred into the sentence as he could.

A silence fell throughout the hut, and the sentence seemed to echo in the tiny living room, bouncing off the walls, hitting the pair again and again so it was impossible to ignore. Harry heard a dripping in the corner, rain leaking from a small hole in the roof. He had put a bucket there earlier. The waves crashing into the rocks outside, the rain slamming into the side of the hut, the wind shrieking past the windows.

Finally, the giant man spoke. "What?"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He kept his face calm and polite. He had gotten a lot of practice at the Dursleys. "I'm not going to Hogwarts. I read the letter, I thought about it, and I don't want to go."

The poor man looked flabbergasted. "Nobody says no to going to 'ogwarts!"

"Yes, well, i'm saying no. So you can leave. And you can fix that door on your way out as well."

"Why would you say no?"

That gave Harry a pause for a moment. Why was he saying no? The time he had been here, he used magical products, read magical books, ate food that magically appeared. Why didn't he want to go to a school and learn how to do that himself?

Then Harry remembered an incident in grammar school, when he had gotten his teacher mad. He hadn't known an answer to a question, and the teacher had made fun of him. He had glared at the teacher, wishing that the man felt as humiliated as he felt, and the hair on his head had turned blue. Harry had been rather satisfied at the time, but it wasn't worth the beating he took afterwards. And just because the man had humiliated him, and made him seem lower than the class already thought him, wasn't Harry just stooping to his level by getting him back?

He remembered the storm outside, trapping everyone who ventured onto the island. He remembered the books on how to painfully curse another human being. He remembered the giant man breaking off his door with little regard to who lived in the hut. He remembered getting dragged down the stairs in a painful manner.

"Magic is power," he whispered.

"What was that, 'arry?"

He thought about the dream he had, with the letters scattered about the floor, with the monster whispering in his ear, making him kill something and feel nothing. He thought about the magic he apparently had, and the creatures always on the edge of his vision when he got angry. The blackness.

Magic was power.

He looked up at the giant man, who was now staring at him in confusion, as if he couldn't quite understand the boy laying on the ground before him. "Even if someone doesn't have magic, they can find power. And a lot of the time, they abuse it." He thought of his uncle. "With magic though, you just giving everyone a loaded gun and expecting them to treat it right. I bet there are a lot of magic people who have a lot of power and abuse it, aren't there?"

The man stared at Harry in confusion. "I dunno what your talkin' 'bout 'arry. I've never 'eard of a gun."

Harry had to fight to keep the polite look on his face. "I am not going." He drew out the sentence, as if speaking to a three year old.

Harry had to say he was surprised with himself. Rarely has he stood up for something he said or believed. He usually went along with whatever his uncle said. While he felt a slight fear now, and hesitated to speak his mind, he did so with certainty, sure that he was right in not participating in this school of magic.

The man burst into movement, and started pacing back and forth, muttering. "The great 'arry Potter not goin' to 'ogwarts," he was saying. "It just doesn't 'appen. 'is parents would be rollin' in their graves if they heard this."

The pacing continued in the same manner for a few minutes, and Harry watched warily. Then, as if suddenly thinking of something, the great man stopped, and glared down at Harry. The fear that had gone away as soon as the man had started acting like an idiot started to return, and Harry cursed himself for underestimating the man. After all, he had broken his ankle, and he still hadn't said anything about it.

"The death eaters got to you already, didn' they?"

It was Harry's turn to be confused. "What?"

"They must 'ave 'ad a part in what 'appened with you relatives. They must 'ave gotten you before you came 'ere. They probably put you 'ere, didn' they?"

"What?"

The man shook his head. "'fessor Dumbledore can fix this right up. Don' you worry, 'arry. We'll 'ave you good as new right away."

The man started checking his pockets, and Harry wondered if he was looking for another umbrella. But that was ridiculous, because one seemed to be doing the trick. Then the man found what he was looking for, and pulled out a... a sock? He held it down to Harry like a peace offering.

The only think Harry could think of to do was reach up and take it, but as soon as he touched it, he felt a jerk at his navel, similar to the feeling he had upstairs before he was dragged to the giant man, and the world started to spin around him.