And here we have the final chapter :D This was really fun to write, and as it is the final chapter I thought I'd at least try to make it longer~ As usual, I own nothing. Everything belongs to J.K Rowling.
Warnings: OOC!Harry OOC!Dobby.
As usual, the process made Harry queasy as he locked his elbows close to his sides, resisting the urge to close his eyes as what seemed to be a million hearths and fire places zoomed by. To be fair though, the now-criminal teenager didn't even know where he was going! It was a very sudden, and in his own opinion a stupid, idea.
The moment Harry found himself stumbling unsteadily out the large fireplace, he was greeted by a most unsuspecting yet familiar sight. How could he forget the very house he saw a muggle, coldly murdered in when he was only thirteen? Ah memories. He didn't need a Dementor to remember those lovely flashbacks. Yes - there was no mistaking the Riddle house, especially when it appeared exactly the same as it had those two years ago, only this time there was no deformed Voldemort or Wormtail lurking in the darkness. At least he hoped they weren't, but considering his luck, who knew?
Harry wasn't particularly sure why he had came here, but it seemed like a safe choice for now. The old coot would never think to look for him here and he was sure that the Ministry didn't even know the small town of Little Hangington existed. It was perfect, despite its decrepit condition. Of course that didn't matter to Harry - He would rather live in a cave than Azkaban... Sirius in all his skeletal glory back in third year flashed into his mind, and the image that once brought a smile to his face caused an ugly snarl to rise. Why?! WHY?!
He had been so caught up in his anger, so busy with murdering the filthy excuse of a witch that he didn't even stop to mourn Sirius. Tears pooled in the emerald green eyes, and Harry was vaguely aware of falling to the ground in a graceless heap as he sobbed.
He was a murderer.
He had tortured Bellatrix Lestrange.
Sirius. Was. Gone.
The realization hit him for the first time that night and he was a mess. An irrevocably broken mess. A nonexistent wind sent the objects in the room into a frenzy - Furniture was vibrating and exploding as for the first time since he was eleven, Harry had a destructive bout of accidental magic.
There would be no safety anymore; no worrying glances from Miss. Weasley, no Hermione to call on for help. If Harry dared show his face the only thing he would receive is frisky time with a Dementor. Kissing on the first date... The thought brought a wry smile to his face for the first time since he had his hysterical break down, and he paused to wonder if Fudge had ordered his arrest yet? The only thing he could hope for was that the ministry would be so preoccupied with the appearance of Voldemort to worry about Harry.
Despite being in possession of his wand, magic would be useless in this situation. His wand had the trace on, has he recalled from the fun meeting with Wizenedgamot when he was summoned for a trial. How ironic - Barely a year later he really is a criminal. Instead he had to cautiously make his way around the ancient house to ensure he really was a lone. As grim as the situation was, dying would not help at all.
Sneaking around the house was easier than he thought- He was the only current resident of the Riddle house and his relatives love over the years left him lighter than he should be. The few floorboards and doors that did indeed creak burned into his memory so he would not make that mistake again. Who knows what danger lurked inside the house Voldemort had been in.
Voldemort.
Now that was what confused Harry - All his beliefs had been brutally destroyed in one night, and now he was left wondering who Voldemort really was. He was so stupid! Unbelievably so - Harry had thought Voldemort to be an utterly insane and power hungry man. Though it was true, it was a serious understatement. What were these feelings? These thoughts? It was easy to shift the blame onto Voldemort. After all, the two were linked, they shared a mind connection, that clearly Voldemort was aware of.
That night, Harry received no sleep. Every time he closed his mind, he was tormented with images of Sirius falling through that damned veil, the scene playing over and over again until it hurt to think. So many conflicting thoughts and emotions, it messed with his fragile mind leaving the once bright and innocent boy a former shell of himself.
Morning rose, and Harry knew this because he was staring blankly ahead as sun filtered through the slight gaps in the boards of the windows. Too afraid to sleep, too afraid to even move he had spent the entire night lying stiffly on the dusty bed. It was strange, actually, because that very bed had given him an idea that might just save his arse.
"Dobby?" Harry called, though it was a mistake as his throat was hoarse and sore from lack of water. That didn't seem to stop the erratically fanatic house elf who appeared merely seconds later, latching onto Harry's legs and grossly sobbing.
"THE GREATS HARRY POTTER SUMMONED DOBBY!" It was hard to understand the high pitched wail in between sobs. "Dobby knew it wasn't true! They's saying Master Harry done bad thing!" Like a switch Dobby flipped from hysterical to angry, shaking his finger at the air. "The great Harry Potter would nev-" Crouching low to his only friend, Harry gently silenced the house elf. It was sad, knowing the only person who could look out for him was an insane house elf. But it was better than nothing.
"Dobby. It's true." He whispered in admittance for the first time. "I did a bad thing." He lowered his head, in a mixture of horror at his own actions and depression as tears threatened to well up in his eyes, again. He missed the determined expression on Dobby's face as the house elf consolingly patted the distressed teenager on the knee.
"Dobby will serve Master Harry no matter whats!" Dobby announced proudly, to which Harry offered a small rare smile.
"Thank you, Dobby. I'm proud to have such a loyal house elf with me." For the first time since he had met Dobby in his second year, he acknowledged their bond. A brief flash of white momentarily blinded him and he felt an influx of magic spin tantalizingly in the room. When he came to his senses, Dobby was staring up at him with disturbingly wide eyes.
"Master Harry has accepted Dobby! Dobby is so happy!" He promptly burst into tears again, leaving Harry to stare in a mixture of amazement and confusion. He had accepted Dobby? Wha-How?! Sometimes he forgot how strange the magical community was. But there was no time to ponder on the subject, because no matter how safe he may be for now, he was still a wanted criminal.
"Dobby?" The house elf paused to look up, all signs of his hysterical sobbing gone. "I need to you to fetch me the Daily Prophet newspaper. Can you remain unseen?" Harry uncertainly asked, preferring not to order his only friend around even though that's what he was there for.
"Certainly Master Harry!" With a frantic nod and a snap of his fingers, Harry was left alone again. But not for long - One night in this god forsaken house had already left him growing bored, and from what he knew Little Hangington had no wizards in it except for the Gaunts, who were all dead by now. Muggles who knew nothing about his criminal status.
Leaving the house was easy, but remaining unseen was the hard part. All his belongings were at Hogwarts, or by now in the hands of Ministry officials. Hopefully he could get Dobby to fetch some things before they discovered his invisibility cloak.
His stomach let out an embarrassingly loud growl and Harry flinched further into the darkness of the shadows, in hopes that no one noticed him with his shady jumper and jeans. But there was no denying his hunger and thirst. Seeing as though he couldn't just waltz into a shop and buy everything, especially with no money the only option left, was magic.
"Imperi-" His wand, which was levelled at the head of an unsuspecting muggle was back down at his side. How could he have nearly forgotten?! The trace on his wand would alert any ministry officials to his location... Fuck. Well that ruined that spectacular plan.
There was nothing else this village could offer for now. The Riddle house stood on a hill overlooking the village, some of its windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading unchecked over its face. Once a fine-looking manor, and easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, the Riddle house was now damp, derelict and unoccupied. Except for Harry of course, but that was irrelevant.
By the time Harry had arrived at the house, out of breath and utterly paranoid he was greeted by Dobby who was hopping from foot to foot, a Daily Prophet clenched in his hands as ordered. The moment Dobby layed eyes on Harry he scuttled over eagerly, handing the newspaper to his maser loyally and waiting patiently. He was now disappointed - Harry smiled and patted Dobby on the head as one would a pet.
"Thank you Dobby, you can go for now." With a nod Dobby disappeared to wherever most house elves went, leaving Harry to fearfully open the newspaper. He too, was not disappointed. The headlines took up half the actual page, screaming in eye catching moving letters:
"THE BOY-WHO-WENT-DARK?" By Rita Skeeter, of course. Who else would trash the boy-who-lived's reputation?
My dear readers, something of up most importance occurred just last night. The boy-who-lived, Harry Potter is a 15 year old Gryffindor student at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been an announced as a criminal. Sources within the ministry last night watched in horror as the young teenager we all grew to love, tortured and murdered Bellatrix Lestrange, an escaped prisoner of Azkaban. We fear that our saviour may have truly cracked, under the influence of Voldemort who had appeared moments later. Could our chosen one have defected to the dark? Watch out, witches and wizards. No one knows when the menace known as 'The Dark One' will strike again? If you see any sign of this wizard contact the aurors instantly - Minister Fudge issued the Dementors kiss before resigning from his post and anyone to apprehend this dangerous criminal will be generously rewarded. Again, we warn you all to be on your guard.
"Really? The Dark One?!" He snorted, the passage had done nothing but amuse him. If this was the best Rita Skeeter could do perhaps he should pay her a little visit, for revenge when she wrote those slating articles about Hermione and himself. Yes. The filthy bug was next on his quickly growing list to kill. And he would make her scream.
Sorry dear readers, not as much gruesome action in this one D: But I thought it finishes nicely, and who knows one day I might pick it up again and continue. As usual, drop a comment if you have any advice or criticism and thank you all ever so much for reading. I hope you guys enjoyed :)
Much love,
DarkestRevelation.