Waves Crashing Against the Shore

by cloneserpents

Standard Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters are property of J K Rowling, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Books, Arthur A. Levine Books, Raincoast Books, Scholastic publishing (et al.) and used without permission. This work was written purely for noncommercial entertainment; no money is being made

WARNING!

This is a dark horror fan-fiction containing graphic violence, gore and major character deaths.

Chapter One

Of course he remembered them. How could he not. They made his life miserable every chance they got. Even if they had not been terrible people, they shouldn't have yelled at him. If the old fat one did not throw open the door and shout at him, Harry would have left the house and its occupants alone. However, the fat man (Harry knew his name but it wasn't important) made the mistake of yelling at Harry while he examined his bizarre features. He called Harry a freak and a burden. The memories of the pain and neglect he suffered under the fat man, his skinny wife and their obese son rushed to the forefront of his mind. Thinking on the trials he faced in the cupboard under the stairs and then in the smallest bedroom, he should have thanked them. After all, the mean and terrible things they did to him prepared him in a manner for what Voldemort and his minions did years later. Although that would be like comparing apples to oranges—name calling, skipped meals and soapy frying pans thrown at him was nothing in regards to what the Death Eaters did to him—the fat man and his family's actions hardened Harry and gave him the ability to deal with hardships. It was only proper to thank them and he would do just that.

As he roughly dragged the fat man down the stairs by his ear, Harry wondered how he came to be at this house. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep under the stars with Hermione pressing against his side. A cold hollow pit formed in his chest just as it did when the Ministry took her away from him. He had to find his Hermione. It didn't matter why he was at the fat man's house or why Harry himself looked so different. He had to find his Hermione.

The skinny woman pulled and screamed at Harry. Her cries were the squawking of some chicken frightened by a fox. The fat boy thundered down the steps, shouting at Harry, "Leave my Dad alone!"

Harry reached the bottom of the stairs and tugged the fat man toward the cupboard, the place that used to be Harry's room for so long. Pulling the door open, Harry shoved the fat man in, throwing him on top of boxes of Christmas ornaments and winter clothes. The fat man howled clutching his ear and his wife jumped into the cupboard to vainly try pulling his enormous bulk out of the small space. Turning, Harry saw the fat boy standing in front of him with his hands balled into fists. Before the fat boy could attack, Harry's foot shot out, striking the obese boy between the legs. As the boy doubled over, Harry took him by the shoulders and threw him into the cupboard on top of his parents. While the fat boy's parents pled with him to get off so they could get out of the cupboard, Harry strolled into the kitchen. Pulling a large butcher knife out of the wooden block, Harry wondered why the fat man and his family had not changed since the last time he saw them. The hollow pit in his chest expanded. The whole situation was confusing and troubling. He needed his Hermione.

Walking back to the cupboard with the knife in his hand, Harry proceeded to thank his relatives for all they did for him. First, he showed his appreciation to the fat boy. Then Harry's show of gratitude ended the skinny woman's shriek. The fat man was able to shout, "Burn in hell, you sick bastard!" before Harry gave him his thanks.

Harry could've used his wand, but there was something gratifying in feeling a knife slicing through necks and plunging into bellies. It was a tactile connection that made it all the more intimate. They were his family after all.

-01-

The pack was heavy. Ron regretted not listening to the lectures on how to shrink things. If he had listened to Professor Flitwick, as Hermione often lectured, he would have been able to turn the tent and all the provisions into something more manageable and, more importantly, lighter. Once they got to Hermione's, the first thing he'd do was ask her to shrink the tent. Needless to say, he would have to listen to another lecture from Hermione but not having to carry the heavy load would be worth it.

He Apparated to the Dursleys' back garden and let the pack slip from his back. "Ahh, that's better."

Rubbing his sore shoulders, Ron waited for Harry to join him. When Harry told him to come by his relative's house before they went to Hermione's together, he told Ron to show up around nine in the morning. Harry promised he would keep an eye out for his arrival. The minutes ticked by with the red-haired wizard standing in the middle of the garden. Tapping his foot, he checked his watch and muttered, "C'mon, mate, let's go."

It wasn't as if Ron could walk up to the door and knock. Harry's Muggle relatives were barmy and they would have a conniption if he showed up at their back door asking for Harry. But that was exactly what he was tempted to do when his watch read a quarter past nine. It figured; the first time Ron was ever on time without Hermione haranguing him and here Harry was the one that was going to make them late. There was no way Hermione wouldn't lay the blame on Ron's shoulders. Even if Harry confessed, Hermione would say that it was due to years of Ron's influence.

Then, a minute or so later, Ron saw Harry through the kitchen window. Ron waved, trying to get his friend to look in the garden, but Harry's attention was on washing something in the kitchen sink. "Oi, Harry!"

Turning away from the sink, Harry looked out the window. Over the past few years, he became accustomed to hearing Ron's voice, but to see him standing in the garden was another confusing thing to add to this strange day. He cocked his head and stared at the vision curiously, as the warm water ran over his hands and the knife.

It was impossible for Ron not to notice the angry expression on Harry's face. "What'd those Muggles do now?"

Ron walked to the back door and opened it. "Hey, mate, how's it going?"

In response, Harry looked the red head up and down with his face twisted in anger. Under the burning hate, Ron also saw some confusion in Harry's eyes. "You okay?"

Harry gave a curt nod. Of all the things that happened in his life, seeing his friend, even if it was just a figment of his fractured mind, was a good thing.

Ron looked over the kitchen. It was a cold place, hospital clean and unwelcoming. It was too clean; it looked as if no one used the room, not like the kitchen at the Burrow. He couldn't imagine a family sitting down at the table to enjoy a home cooked meal.

"Where're the Muggles?"

Flicking the wet butcher knife to point toward the front room, Harry sent an arch of reddish water droplets all over the pristine kitchen floor.

Ron's nose crinkled. "Cor! What's that smell? Did something die in here?"

Instead of answering, Harry just looked at his friend.

"Okay, do you wanna say goodbye to them or anything?"

Harry continued to stare at Ron with that strange mixture of anger and confusion.

"Guess not," Ron said. "Well then, you ready to go?"

Again, Harry did not answer. He simply looked at Ron.

"You are talkative today, aren't you?" Ron cringed under that strange, icy glare. "Alright, that's not creepy."

Harry turned off the faucet and pushed the still wet knife back into the block. Turning, he headed for the back door. He needed to find Hermione. He didn't know where to even start but lingering in the kitchen talking with a delusion wasn't helping.

"I take it you're ready to go then?" Ron fell in step behind Harry. "Don't you wanna, I don't know, grab your sleeping bag or the provisions you were supposed to pick up? Or put on some trainers. Or a pull over."

The grass of the garden tickled his bare feet. Harry looked to the right, and then left as if hoping there would be some clue as to Hermione's whereabouts. The pit in his chest ate up more space as it stretched out through his belly and into his shoulders. The need to find his Hermione was quickly growing frantic. Someone separated them. He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but when he found who did this, he would take his time ripping them apart. Pieces of their flesh, whoever they were, would cling under his fingernails and get caught between his teeth.

"So, you ready to head to Hermione's?"

Harry's head whipped around and Ron took a step back as Harry's eyes burned into him.

"Take it easy, mate."

Harry did not move but Ron took another step backwards.

"What's the problem, Harry?"

The apparition knew where Hermione was. Harry tried to will the vision of Ron to tell him where they took Hermione, but the redhead only put more distance between them. Ron's back bumped into the garden wall. "Merlin, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Why didn't the figment answer? It perplexed Harry. Every time Ron would talk to him in his head, his dead friend would respond, even when Harry wanted him to shut up. It was making him angry. His heart began to speed up and his breath quickened. This agitation only seemed to accelerate the growth of the cold pit. It reached down into his loins and crept up his neck.

Ron was worried. He had seen Harry mad before but this was unlike anything he experienced. He wondered if the Muggles did something to make him this angry. Then a chilling thought occurred to him—what if it was You-Know-Who? Was the evil bastard messing with Harry again? What was he doing to him? "Okay, listen, I know something's wrong, Harry, but we can fix it, alright?" He didn't have a clue as to how to help Harry. If You-Know-Who was manipulating Harry, it was way beyond Ron's area of knowledge. "Let's go get Hermione, huh?"

Harry threw out his hands.

"She's at her folks' place," Ron rushed to answer the unasked question. "You know that. It was part of the bloody plan."

In the blink of an eye, Harry Apparated away.

"Shit!" Ron rushed to the discarded pack and Apparated.

-01-

The moment he landed inside Hermione's room and saw her curled up on the bed, the pit consuming him vanished. She wailed and jumped into his open arms.

"Harry! Harry! Harry!" Rapid-fire kisses peppered his shoulder, neck and ear. "You said you'd never leave me again." She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her feet together behind his back. Continuing her frenzied kisses, she mewled, "I was scared and lost and cold and…"

When her lips touched the soft, smooth skin of his cheek, she pulled back. Her hands cupped his face and confusion danced in her eyes. "What happened to your beautiful smile?"

He turned his head away in shame. Pulling his face back to hers, she placed a small peck on the tip of his nose. "It doesn't matter what you look like, you're still my beautiful Harry."

With her fingers tapping Harry's shoulders, Hermione looked around the room. "This is rather perplexing, isn't it? This is my room." Still perched on his hips, she twisted her body this way and that, pointing around the room. "That's my bed. That's my wardrobe. Those are my bookcases. And there's Crookshanks."

The cat's ears flattened against his head and he gave out a yowl.

"Mean ol' cat yelling at his mummy. Mummy should put him in a sack and toss him in the river."

Crookshanks, partially hidden between two of the room's many bookcases, hissed.

"Oh, stop it, you poop. I was just teasing. I wouldn't throw you in a river." Hermione brightened like a star about to explode. "Oh, we should do that with our next plaything, Harry! We'll put them in a sack and throw them in a river!" She laughed.

Harry looked at her.

"Drat, you're right. We wouldn't hear them scream if they drown. Oh, well, that's too bad."

A commotion from the bottom floor interrupted their one-sided conversation. A muffled voice sounded through the floor. "Hello Doctor and Doctor Granger. Sorry for barging in like this. Is Hermione in her room? Right then, thanks."

As a pair of feet rushed up the stairs, Hermione asked, "What's this then?"

Ron threw open the door and slammed it behind him. "Merlin, Harry, did you Apparate right into Hermione's room? That's rude!" His eyebrows rose up and he eyed the joined pair up and down. "What are you two doing?"

Harry and Hermione shared a look. "No, Harry, I can see him, too."

"Of course you can see me." Ron shook his head in disbelief. "I'm standing right in front of you."

Unhitching herself from Harry, Hermione cautiously walked toward Ron. First, she leaned in close and sniffed him. She then pushed her forefinger into his shoulder. Finally, she pressed her ear to his chest and listened to his heartbeat for a moment. She mimicked his pulse with a series of "thumps." She stood and announced, "Yep. He's real and alive."

"What are you on about?" Ron demanded.

Hermione backed up and her hand reached out to Harry, blindly seeking his. Harry intertwined his fingers in hers as she stood by him. "You'll have to forgive us, Ron. The last time we saw you, you were dead."

"You… the both of you… are acting insane!"

Hermione threw up her freehand in triumph. "Right in one! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Without any warning, tears sprang up in Hermione's eyes. Her lip quivered and she whimpered, "Please, help. Oh, God. Please help us."

Before Ron would even register what happened Hermione's face twisted and she snapped, "Worthless, pathetic little girl!"

Her head whipped to Harry where she noticed his hair. Fingering his raven locks, she commented, "I prefer it white."

Ron forged ahead. "The last time you saw me was at King's Cross where we planned this little…" he lowered his voice, fearing someone might overhear, "… little trip."

Cocking her head, Hermione looked at Ron curiously. "Huh?" Her eyes moved to the pack dangling off his back. "This reminds me of something… Oh, that's it!" She clicked her fingers. "Doesn't this remind you of the day we set off to find Voldemort's horcruxes, Harry?"

Ron threw his finger to his lips and shushed her, "Somebody might be listening, Hermione!"

"Yeah, it looks exactly like that day. Except Crookshanks wasn't being a poop."

"Whatever the game is you two are playing, stop," Ron ordered. "It's not funny and you're scaring me."

"Isn't it like that day, Harry?" she asked smiling. He nodded his head and she added, "Everything is just the way I remember it."

Ron froze. It hit him like a ton of bricks. "Wait, you remember this? Like it's from your past?"

"Well you can't remember something from your future now can you," Hermione giggled.

"Blimey," he muttered to himself, "It worked." He did not know why he could not recall anything from the future, but it seemed like Luna's spell worked. "Can you tell me what the year is right now?"

"No."

"You can't." It seemed odd that someone like Hermione, who thought punctuality was a religious activity, would not know the year. Yet, that was probably the least odd thing she did so far that day. "Can you tell me where the horcruxes are?"

She shook her head and pouted childishly.

"Why not?"

"We never found them."

"Never?"

"Not a one… well besides Riddle's Diary but that was ages before what we even knew what a horcrux was."

Ron was devastated. Luna's spell worked but it was all for naught—according to Hermione, their quest to find the horcruxes failed completely. "Well could you tell me what did happen?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"You were there, silly."

Harry tapped Hermione on the shoulder and looked into her eyes. She lightly slapped her forehead. "Oh, yeah, you can't remember because you're dead. I guess I'm the silly one."

The blood in Ron's veins turned to ice. "I'm what?"

"You're dead." She said it as if she told him his hair just happened to be red. "Well, you were dead but now you're alive." A smile grew on her face and she placed her hands on her hips. "Ron, did you go and make yourself a horcrux, you naughty boy? Is that why you're alive again?"

"What happened?" Ron's mind screamed in protest—he did not want to know the answer to that question but it just seemed to tumble from his lips.

"Well, we were captured, then we were tortured and raped and tortured and raped and tortured and raped, etcetera, etcetera. You died somewhere in there. It wasn't pretty."

The room shifted in Ron's vision and the ceiling seemed to jump up. Hermione giggled. "First he forgot he died and now he forgot how to stand. Silly boy."

Ron was surprised to find he was sitting on the floor. He had not noticed his legs giving way.

"This is all so peculiar," commented Hermione. She turned to Harry and, looking at his mouth, asked, "Open up, please."

After he complied, she reached in past his teeth and pulled his tongue out. "Hmm," she uttered, releasing his tongue. Harry's mouth shut and his lips sealed into a frown.

"Curiouser and curiouser." Hermione tapped her chin and her eyes narrowed. "Harry's lost his beautiful smile and he's gotten his tongue back."

"What do you mean he's got his tongue back?" Ron asked from the floor. "What the bloody hell happened to his tongue?"

"Ron's alive again," she continued thinking aloud. "This reminds me of something… it's connected to something shiny and small that went spin-y, spin-y, spin-y." Hermione twirled in place three times. "Everything old is new, everything new is repeating." She wrapped her knuckles on either side of her head and sang in a warbling voice, "Time keeps on slippin', slippin' into the future."

Her eyes darted around wildly and she began to hum low and loud as she tugged at strands of her hair. She calmed slightly when Harry placed a hand on her shoulder but the strange humming persisted. Ron gulped. Something inside warned him that his friends were beasts ready to pounce at any moment. Hoping to ease the situation, he decided to tell them what he knew. "Listen, everything's okay. I can explain… Luna performed a spell today."

"Luna?" Hermione snickered. "Did the spell have to do with snorkacks? Lovely, lovely Luna Lovegood. She's a bit out there."

Ron chose to bite his tongue and not say, "Look who's talking."

"I don't know what the spell was called or how it even worked, but it was supposed to replace us, our minds, with our future selves. You two are from the future."

Harry's head tilted ever so slightly and Hermione's eyes grew wide. Ron looked between the pair. There was something in their eyes—a dark thing that sent a chill through his spine.

"So, this doesn't just look like the day we left to find Voldemort's horcruxes, this is the day we left!" Biting her lip, Hermione started to clap fast. She turned and laughed uproariously. She threw her arms around Harry and cheered, "This is wonderful! Fantastic! If we're in the past, we can play with all the playthings we wore out."

"Playthings? What that supposed to mean?"

"Playthings—things you play with Ron, it's not complicated: the definition is in the word. Play… things." Suddenly, Hermione stood rod straight and took in a gulp of air. With her voice full of rapturous wonder, she whispered, "We can play with Neville again!"

Harry tensed visibly and he flexed his fingers.

"We can play with Neville again! We can play with Neville again!" Hermione chanted. "We can play with Neville again!"

"You two want to play with Neville?" Ron asked, not understanding why she was overjoyed by such a thought.

Smiling like a crocodile, she replied with a list of names. "Marcus Junius Brutus, Judas Iscariot, Guy Fawkes, Neville Longbottom."

"Look, I'm really confused." Ron wiped his face. "Okay… just wait… let's just wait."

"We've learned a bunch of new spells since the last time we played with Neville," Hermione said with a titter. "This time, it'll last for hours and hours and hours."

The chill in Ron's spine seeped into his chest. The shocking news that he was supposed to die in the near future and his friends suffered untold horrors ate at him. Yet for some reason, Hermione's need for playtime frightened him even more. He needed help. "How about we all head to Luna's and have some tea. You'd like tea, right?"

Hermione's shoulders sagged. "Tea is boring. I want to play."

"But… but when was the last time you saw Luna, huh?"

Pursing her lips, Hermione said, "A long, long time ago. A different lifetime."

She looked to Harry and smiled sweetly, and said, "You're right, Harry. It would be nice to see another friendly face, wouldn't it?"

Harry held out his hand and she took it. The pair Apparated out of the room with a loud crack. Jumping to his feet, Ron squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the Lovegood home. Before Apparating himself, he muttered, "Bloody rude Apparating inside somebody's house."

TO BE CONTINUED