Thank you Lydia for editing my works!
Hey there!
This is the first FanFiction I am writing, coming from a scientific background and having written a book for work once.
I have most of the story already planned, but there is only one more chapter written in advance, to reduce pressure for me. The updates will be pretty slow, so you are warned now!
Without further ado, I present to you: Harry Potter and The Alliance Of Families
This chapter is dedicated to Lydia for the great support she was providing writing this chapter and the coming ones. Thank you so much, people like you give me the inspiration I need for this
Hiding behind a bush, Harry felt sadness wash over him. That small was his safe space. The place he would visit when he wanted to get his thoughts in order, or just needed some time alone. He was savoring his first minutes alone without the Dursleys, having finally escaped the sheer amount of household work he had been forced to endure all summer.
The painfully suppressed memories of the graveyard popped into his mind. The images of Cedric, when he had been hit by the Rat's dreadful green spell. Lifeless eyes looking at Harry, an accusatory look on the students face.
An overwhelming feeling of guilt washed over him.
It is my fault was murdered, Harry sighed. Why did I have to try and share the victory?
What made things even worse was the reaction of Amycus, Cedric's father. The look of pure agony and disbelief on the older man's face was still breaking Harry's heart..
'No one should have to bury their son,' Harry murmured, 'It is just not fair.'
He was still thinking about writing a letter to Cedric's father, even if it was just to tell him the truth about how his son died and how it was all his fault, but he couldn't bring himself to inflict any more pain.
Harry's body trembled, and a lone tear ran down his cheek.
"No one else can die because of me," he vowed to himself.
"Crying, Freak? Are you crying because your freak mom left you?"
Harry spun around. Lost in thought, he didn't notice that Dudley, his cousin, had found him, ready to indulge in his favorite hobby – bullying Harry.
"Talk, Boy! Did you swallow your tongue? Poor baby Potter," Dudley snarled with an ugly smirk on his face.
"Just leave me alone Dudley, not rig-," Harry attempted to respond when the fist of the older boy crashed into his chest, forcing the air out of his lungs. The last thing he saw before his vision went black and his body fell on the floor, was the other fist flying right towards his face.
"-ke up, Freak."
Harry was disoriented, his head throbbing painfully. He couldn't recall why he was lying on the floor or who the person that was talking to him was. Rough hands began to shake him violently, desperately trying to lift him up. When he finally managed to try opening his eyes, Harry was blinded by the streetlight, the throbbing pain headache worsening.
"We need to go home, Freak. Now! I'm hungry."
It was then that Harry remembered the hit, and fury surged inside of him.
How dare he to hit me? Enough is enough! Harry pulled out his wand, not caring about the consequences of hexing his cousin. Should he be kicked out of Hogwarts and the magical world, it didn't matter anymore. If all he was getting from it was pain, why would he keep trying to save all of them from Voldemort? He wasn't going to let anyone treat him like trash anymore.
The tip of his wand was already glowing in a bright green color, even though Harry didn't know how he learned to cast the spell of his nightmares. The cast was interrupted when the streetlight began flickering and Harry lost his focus, as he got startled by the situation.
Harry felt something wasn't quite right and he looked around, wondering what could be the cause of this while keeping his wand in a ready position if he needed to defend himself.
This is weird; now all lights in the street start to flicker, Harry thought, puzzled.
That was when he saw the grass next to them starting to move. It started slowly at first as if a simple breeze was the reason why it was moving. But it wasn't long before its movements increased in intensity. When he began to feel a cold wave roll over him, a realization started to dawn on Harry.
And then he saw them: Twenty figures were floating around the corner of Privet Drive. Their long black hoods hid all of their features except the gray, slimy hands raised towards Harry as if trying to pull him into a hug.
Why are there Dementors here in little whinging? Harry asked himself, I thought they were only allowed in Askaban.
"What are you doing, boy? Stop it. You are going to get expelled! I am going to tell my parents!" Dudley shouted, his face showing the sheer terror the boy was facing. This reminded Harry of his cousin's presence.
Even though he is the biggest git I know, I still can't let him get kissed,he decided.
Aiming his wand at the nearest Dementor floating towards them, Harry concentrated on the one memory that did produce his patronus, his parents caring for him, the family he never had, and Sirius. But the thoughts didn't create the big, happy feelings they usually would. Instead he felt a pang of guilt. They were all gone, all gone because of him. Still, he tried to get prongs to appear.
"Expecto patronum!" he shouted insecurely, hoping his silvery stag patronus would appear. But only some light mist formed, barely enough to be visible.
Knowing it wouldn't be sufficient, he tried thinking about other memories he could use. First to his mind came Hermione and Ron, his best friends from school. He quickly shook this idea off when raw disappointment started to surface, all the mistrust and being held back by Ron affecting the memory too much to work.
When Harry looked back up, the Dementor was mere meters away. He had only one chance left. Thinking frantically about what would be enough, Harry pulled against better knowledge all memories of his favorite sport, Quidditch, into his mind, not having any better idea. Happiness started to fill Harry.
This is my last chance,Harry thought through the thick mist that began clogging his mind.
Out of the corner, he could see a second Dementor reaching Dudley. Harry was unwilling to let him die; he would have to get the patronus now.
"Expecto patronum!" Harry shouted for the second time today, with only some dense mist leaving his wand. He willed the fog to move towards Dudley and the Dementor, who started to pull the boy into the air on the hem of his shirt. Harry knew it wouldn't be enough, but he had to try either way. The mist started to thin out the further it spread, only the tiniest amount hitting the Dementor, who quickly brushed it away.
Harry knew it was over; his mother's crying started to overwhelm his mind. Defenseless, he could only watch the Dementor pulling Dudley higher and higher, its second hand scrambling to remove the hood of their cloak.
What Harry saw brought shivers all over his body. A face without eyes or a nose appeared under the hood; the only thing visible on the pale gray, smooth face was a big open mouth right in the middle of the bubblehead-like face. He could only watch as the Dementor started to pull Dudley's face towards it. With each centimeter, they got closer, and a more enormous amount of white fog was being sucked out of the boy's mouth.
A quiet "NO" was the only thing Harry could whisper in his weakened state when he saw their lips touch and a big glob of light leaving his cousin, being swallowed by the Dementor. Having what it wanted, it let the teenager's lifeless body fall to the ground, as if it disposed of trash it didn't want anymore.
Harry stood frozen in place from what he had witnessed, when the other Dementor reached him. I am sorry, Mum. I couldn't do it, I disappointed you. With this last thought excruciating pain in his forehead washed over him when the Dementor's lips touched his.
His world went as the Dementor's icy touch pulled him deeper into despair. He could hear the eerie, soul-chilling wails of the creature echoing in his ears as his memories twisted and contorted, manifesting as his deepest fears and most painful experiences. The darkness seemed endless, and Harry felt his consciousness slipping away.