# Harry Potter and the Final Flight

mg2090

Rating: R
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 26/08/2007
Last Updated: 11/09/2007
Status: In Progress

harry is up for his final year at hogwarts. with great evil rising, he will have a choice to make and the decision could well change the fate of everyone around him... this was written before DH and has been continued after it...

## 1. Lonely Days

I own nothing except the plot…if I owned the characters, DH would have been WAY different…reviews r kindly accepted…more chapters 2 come…

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Water pounded hard on the already-soaked windowsill where two eyes were lost in thought. The rain seemed to be a refreshing getaway to think and cope with things. Alone with the element of purity—the element of cleansing. That is exactly what Harry Potter was doing this soggy day; trying to cleanse his thoughts and his memories…the memories which were destroying him inside. He had hoped, after rescuing Sirius in his 3rd year that things would get better; that maybe, somehow, Voldemort would poof out of existence and let him live out his life as he should…no more celebrity…no more recognition…no more missions, just time to be…normal. He often imagined his life without the infamous `scar'. It was the closest he could get to a normal life…or what he thought was a normal life, considering he had never lived it.

The rain began falling like rocks on the ceiling and broke him out of his muse. He was sitting in the bed of his quaint little room in Privet Drive. Stupid love magic, he thought as he glanced around his room. His eyes grazed past the desk in the far corner where he wrote all of his owl letters. It was full of muggle papers thrown about and a couple of pens with a lonely pencil sitting right in the middle. As he focused in on it he related himself to it…he was different…he was alone…he had to fend for himself. Then he saw two more pencils, one normal and one red that were out of sight in the shadows, roll down. They, like if by some magical force, had rolled down just on cue and poised themselves by the lonely pencil in the middle. Atta boy, he thought as he had an inkling of a smile for the first time since he had gotten to his foster home. He was about to turn his head back when a sharp bolt of light illuminated the room and the crackle broke the solemn atmosphere. He looked out of the window just in time to miss how the red pencil, because of the force of the lightning strike, quavered slightly and rolled off to the wooden floor with a barely-audible clack.

The reason he was so depressed was because he had been out of contact with the magical world ever since he had incarcerated himself inside that wretched house for the sake of protection. In his ponderings late at night, he had often started thinking of what he missed most in the magical world. He would think and think…Hogwarts?…don't think so…using magic…maybe…today, though he thought he had the answer. Every time he was isolated, that person was the first to enter his mind. That person loved the chess games he played and laughed at his losses, was always there in times of peril to lend a helping hand, and was the first person he hoped would send an owl to him with news from the other side. That one person…that one memory that seemed so distant right now…Hermione. Hermione, he thought for what seemed like the millionth time during that long summer. Today was July the 29th and it was the second time in that day that his thoughts wandered to her. How is she? Why hasn't she owled me yet? Could something have happened to her? No! Nothing happened to her she's fine, and so is Ron. Ron…he hadn't thought about him in a while. His thoughts entertained the thought of Ron in the Burrow but immediately, as if drawn by a magnet, wound their way back to…her.

He had been sitting there in his bed, in that little thinking bubble of his most of the morning and hadn't even paid attention to the breakfast that had been slid through the doggie door and was now grabbing the attention of many types of animal species considering it was so old that by now it was probably poisonous to ingest by humans. Harry hadn't found it good-looking in the first place so he just ignored it, but now his stomach was telling him otherwise…the food that was now rancid looked like a godsend. He didn't want to touch it though so he just convinced himself he'd wait around for lunch to fly through the flap.

As he stared idly towards the food, a sudden crash awoke him from his daydream and he fell off the bed much in the same way as he had when Dobby had first appeared. He quickly got up and his eyes swung open. Suddenly feeling awake as if he had drunk ten espressos, he flung himself over his bed and opened his window to let in the small owl known as Pig. It wasn't the owl from the person he had most wanted to hear from, but it was a start. Pig hooted gleefully and landed in the light on the top of the room. “Pig would you get over here? Gimmie that letter!” said Harry in an annoyed voice, while pig toyed with him by moving from side to side so he could not grasp the letter tied to his leg. Finally, after a while of attempting to catch Pig, the owl happily bounded on Harry's bed and extended his leg. By this point, Harry was exhausted beyond measure because of the incessant chasing of his best friends owl across the room and back. He barely had any energies left to untie the letter, but his need to know what was happening in the magical world was too powerful and he extended his hand with all of his energies, untied the letter, and plopped on the floor. Finally, he thought, let's find out what is going on. He slowly opened up the letter as Pig slowly raised his round head above Harry's shoulder to get a better look.

Dear Harry,

How are you? I'm sorry I haven't sent you an owl since school ended, but I heard that the death eaters have a way of intercepting owls and I didn't think it would be safe for me to give away your location. I managed to plead Mrs. Weasley into letting me send this one letter…I hope it won't be traced.

The news is that, even with Dumbledore gone, Voldemort still hasn't shown his face. Its strange, really, how he now has a clean shot at you and hasn't done anything about it. That is what we're afraid of here in the Burrow. I moved in with my family to be safer and we want you to do so too when you come of age in two days. So I expect you here as soon as possible.

On the note of your birthday, I probably won't be able to owl you that day so I just wanted to say: Happy Birthday! Sorry, I just couldn't miss your big day if you got delayed. I sent you a present with a delivery owl but it won't be delivering it until your birthday, so you will just have to wait!

Anyways, everyone's fine here and having fun for what seems like the first time in months. I hope you are all right over there. Hold on for just two more days for me…for us. I just want to know you are safe. I'm worried about you Harry, I truly am. I hope you are all right. Don't owl back…just in case.

Love,

Hermione

Harry sucked in every word of the letter, re-reading it over and over. He particularly liked the last paragraph…hold on for two more days for me…for me. He held the letter in his hands for a second and then sighed…it was the best news he'd received in a long time.

Soft footsteps were then heard emanating from the door and they progressively got louder and louder. Here comes Uncle Vernon with my food, thought Harry rather unconsciously as he was still thinking about the letter. The footsteps stopped tight in front of Harry's door and a nasally and congested voice said, “You're food boy! Its 6:10 p.m. and we are not going to be paying you visits any time soon so you better eat now or starve!” Uncle Vernon had been with the flu that whole week and was having fits almost constantly because of it. Any anger he had he would immediately throw on anyone in the immediate vicinity…or Harry…so it was unwise to be in the near him when he was due to explode…or to be Harry. The food that slipped through the door was little more appetizing than the one already on the floor: it was rice that looked more like mashed potatoes and a slice of meat the size of Harry's hand which appeared to have not been cooked for much longer than three seconds. Harry eyed the food hungrily, the letter had re-sparked every system in his body and now he was fully awake…and hungry. He jumped the plate like a rabid animal and scarfed it down in little more time than it took to cook the meat. Uncle Vernon is getting better at this cooking business, thought Harry as he sighed, patting his stomach.

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## 2. First Strike

The second chapter in the Harry Potter and the Final Flight series…for all you action freaks out there, you might have to wait a little longer for the fighting, but I promise it will be worth it. For now, just stick to a little more plot development and some sneaky people around privet drive…

Once again, I am not JK Rowling…if I was I would not have married a guy…it would have been a girl…cuz I'm a guy and not gay…oh…and Harry Potter would be different as well…

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Two days had passed since Harry had received the letter from Hermione and its deliverer had already caused hell. Uncle Vernon, being already prone to mood swings, had almost destroyed the whole house when he saw the tiny owl fluttering around in Harry's room. It had taken aunt Petunia, Dudley, and Harry's wand to stop him. The only reason why the previous two helped was because they were afraid of what Harry might do to Vernon if he attacked Harry; they didn't do it thinking of Harry's safety.

Everything that went wrong, Vernon now blamed Harry…he had gone from one of the ways Vernon vented his anger out to the only one. If something went missing: “BOY!!!”; if a creak of floorboard from anywhere was heard: “POTTER!!!”. Life for those two days was a living hell. Even Dudley was keen on the idea of Harry as the cause of everything; he now tried his best to disrupt the household and point discreetly to Harry when asked who it was. Now, on the eve of Harry's birthday he couldn't wait for the clock to chime and for him to be out of there and on his way to the Burrow.

He anxiously paced the length of his room and every three times he paced it, he would look at the clock on his bedside table. Not much had changed in his room in the past few days apart from its cleanliness: there were feathers everywhere and an obvious appearance of a climactic struggle between Vernon and Pig, for everything in Harry's room was thrown about and disorderly. Pig stood where he had when he had first gotten to #4 Privet Drive—on the lamp in the ceiling of Harry's room. He eyed Harry as he trudged from side to side and gave him a hoot as Harry stood under him. Harry looked up and eyed him malevolently, “Its your fault what has happened these past couple of days…all I've had to go through because you can't control yourself.” He looked back down to the floor, immediately feeling regretful about what he had said to his best friend's owl. “I'm sorry…its just that I am under a lot of stress right now and all I can do is wait until midnight so I can leave this house forever…I'm so stressed today that I've resorted to having in depth chats about how I feel with my friend's owl.” He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, feeling exasperated, while Pig hooted in a way that made Harry think he was laughing at him.

And I can't even owl Hermione back, he thought as he landed on his bed and looked at the ceiling. The weight of a summer's wait was now heavier than ever and he was feeling it. He felt his body weakening under a day's load and slowly, he began to relax. He started to look around his room for a way to entertain himself so as to not fall for the somnolence that was suddenly enveloping him, but his search was in vain. His eyes felt heavy and he struggled to keep them open. Slowly, he gave way to the feeling enveloping him—the serenity of the crisp air emanating from his window, the soft fluttering of Pig as he repositioned himself somewhere in the lamp, and the warm and comforting sensation of lying in his bed. His eyes shut, this time for good and he lay there, sprawled in his bed, asleep. Pig eyed him thoughtfully and began to accept that his action was not such a bad idea; he repositioned himself one more time, tucked his head in his fluffed-up feathers and closed his eyes.

The two sleepers in the room had been out cold for only a couple of minutes when there was a disturbance outside that, either they didn't pay attention to, or they couldn't pay attention to because they were preoccupied in their dreams. A shadow made its was across Harry's front lawn and stopped in the edge of the house, where it could not be seen because of the setting sun's dim light. Seemingly out of nowhere, another figure materialized out of thin air without a sound. “It is almost time…” said the figure that had walked across the lawn in a barely audible whisper; it was a woman's voice. “Yes, you are correct my dear, soon Harry Potter won't be protected by his precious love magic and it will be time to strike,” Said the other figure, patting the woman on the back, “it is a good thing that you caught that stupid little owl in time, or else we would've never known where the Potter child was. That was some quick thinking on your part, Bellatrix.”

She moved out of the other shadow's grasp and let the light illuminate her face—her features were bony and looked malnourished and pale, her hair was wild and disorderly, which transmitted the idea that she had not cleaned herself up in some time; she was an incredibly skinny individual with the appearance of someone who hasn't eaten in a while. Her skinny body was softly silhouetted against the dusk sunshine and she appeared nervous and edgy. “D- Do you think that the Dark Lord will have anything else to use us for when he returns to power? Are we just as dispensable as our little Potter friend? What will become of us? I'm really confused right now…no other time has my devotion to the Dark Lord faltered and yet now, at the eve of our greatest victory, I am having second thoughts…what is wrong with me Severus?” Snape eyed her thoughtfully, still shrouded by the darkness on the side of Harry's house. “Not to worry, the Dark Lord never gives up on the faithful…I mean, look at me.” A slight smile was hidden from view by the slowly advancing night and as quickly as it had started, it was gone. “Let us report back. Everything is going according to plan. If we succeed tonight, the Dark Lord will rule…” Bellatrix smiled and Snape eyed her for a second, then turned and was, seemingly, wisped away with the wind in a puff of black smoke. Bellatrix stayed for a couple seconds longer, eying the window where Harry's room was thoughtfully, and then said to herself, “I hope…” With a soft breeze, she slowly melted away into the night.

***

The shades that were keeping the room dark were lifted off of Harry's eyes and he awoke with a start. What time is it?? Was the first thought to enter his mind. He didn't want to waste a second longer in the Dursley's house after he had come of age; he wanted to leave as soon as possible. He quickly grabbed at the dark room for the clock and, being so forceful, toppled over the bed straight to the floor. He immediately got up and stumbled to the table. He eyed the clock thoughtfully: 11:45 p.m. There was still time left…he wasn't too happy about that. He slid down the side of his bed and sat on the cold, hard floor. Pig was still asleep by some miracle, considering he had made a raucous when he fell over the side of the bed, and his desk was still littered with pens, papers, and the two pencils in the center. Where's my other one? I kind of liked the color…he thought as he looked around his recently disheveled room for any sign of the red pencil. He stood up and started messily clumping all of the trash around his room to one side and as he did this he came across the pencil. “Damn…” he said aloud in an upset voice; the pencil was broken in half, “Uncle Vernon must've broken it when he was chasing Pig…” Harry eyed the pencil and then gave up on it and threw it in the trashcan on the side of his desk.

After messily tidying up his room, he sat back on the bed. A sudden pang of realization hit him. His gaze darted towards the clock: 11:55 p.m. He had been cleaning for ten minutes…impressive. Feeling content at his achievement, he lied back down on his bed to wait out his remaining five minutes in the Dursley's house. He was broken out of thought by heavy footsteps outside of his door. Harry's eyes opened wide in sudden realization, “I woke up Vernon…I made too much noise.” He stood, petrified, waiting for the hurricane to come and destroy him. The footsteps became louder and louder and then the door almost exploded as Uncle Vernon tried to, simultaneously, scream, break down the door, and not sound nasally and congested. “WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU BOY?!?!” yelled the fat man that was standing in the doorway to Harry's room, so purple he reminded Harry of a grapefruit, “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING MAKING SO MUCH NOISE AT MIDNIGHT?!?!” Midnight, Harry thought, midnight. He didn't pay much attention to what Vernon was screaming at him, his mind was entertaining the new thought…midnight. He slowly made his way to the desk next to his bed while Vernon shouted, “LISTEN TO ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU BOY!!!”

He didn't hear anything, though, he just kept thinking…midnight. He opened the drawer and pulled out his wand; Uncle Vernon froze, “You're not allowed…” he stuttered, taking a step back. “You obviously care as much about me as you care for a piece of dirt…today is my BIRTHDAY…” he smiled as he said the last word. Uncle Vernon scrunched up his face, apparently at a loss of why Harry was mentioning his birthday while pointing his wand at him, or having not been blessed with the ability to do the math. “So?” said Vernon, behind whom Petunia and Dudley were now standing, having been awakened by the fighting. They were both staring, fixated at Harry's wand. Harry chuckled and took a step towards Vernon, “I have come of age…I'm 17 now…I can……….use magic.” Vernon's eyes widened and Petunia and Dudley recoiled in terror. Harry laughed and took another step forward, but when he tried to take another step, he was cut short. He had felt something strange—a sensation to hurt Uncle Vernon, to bite him, to kill him. He rubbed his head and tried to shake the feeling out but he felt it again. He let his wand slip from his hand as he felt the sensation again…hurt, bite, kill. He had only intended to scare his uncle, not kill him; he didn't even think he was capable of such a thing. He used both of his hands this time to clasp his head. Vernon smiled maliciously and he inched a little closer to Harry's wand, which had rolled a couple of feet and come to rest a short distance away from his current location. “S- Something's wrong…” stuttered Harry as he stumbled a couple of steps back. “AHA!!!” screamed Vernon as he clasped Harry's wand and held it up into the air, “NOW WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO BOY???” Harry, trying to get a grip on his thoughts only managed to stutter one final time “Go…G- Get away.” Uncle Vernon laughed as he played around with Harry's wand, “Or what???” Harry, this time let go of his head, and let his arms form into fists at his sides. Vernon stopped chuckling and stared at Harry. This time though, when Harry tried to speak, it wasn't his voice that came out. A cold, dark, snake-like voice emanated from his mouth; it wasn't his voice…but he recognized it. He smiled from ear to ear, a devilish grin that made Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley pale as he said, “Its been a long time Harry…have you missed me?”

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Well how do you like the story till now? I'm sorry to all you cliffie haters but I just had 2 leave u hanging…it's the only way you might actually think of reviewing…even if its hate mail…I WANT REVIEWS! Please…give me some motivation to write more if you really want to know what happens next sooner…the update will probably be in a week if I don't get many reviews to motivate me…so…readers…you know what to do!

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## 3. Seek and Destroy

Here comes the third chapter! Alright…this is the chapter for all you action freaks here. It contains a small taste of the action that is to come so…I hope you enjoy it…

Once more I am not JK Rowling…though from looking at me you can notice that…I bet she doesn't have facial hair…

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Uncle Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley, upon hearing the seemingly undead voice come out of Harry's mouth, had all accepted that there was something deeply wrong with the boy they had raised from a baby (apart from him being magical) and decided that the best course of action to fix this problem was to run around the house screaming and smashing into stationary objects. Harry, on the other hand, being the wisest of the people present, decided the best course of action was to confront this disembodied entity.

“Get…out…of…my…head!” shouted Harry as he stumbled across his room, grasping his head.

“Why? We have not heard from each other for so long. I thought perhaps you wanted to see me again…now that your precious love magic has worn off…what do you say?” said the disembodied voice in a cold, malevolent hiss. Harry steadied himself against the nauseous feeling that was overcoming him because of having another person inside of him.

“I don't want you near me! Get away or I'll have to hurt you!” shouted Harry, his face scrunched up in pain.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! What are you going to do Potter? Run to your precious friends? They have already been taken care of…there is no place to hide now! You will be forced to face me or die!!!” the voice hissed and sounded as if it was about to vomit as it cackled in a fit of spine-tingling laughter.

Harry froze. He just stood there, thinking on what the disembodied voice had just said…friends…t hey have already been taken care of. It was impossible, Hermione had just sent him a letter two days ago…the letter. The sudden realization hit him. The letter that Hermione had sent him had been intercepted by the Death Eaters and tracked back to the Burrow and to #4 Privet Drive. He had gone to the Burrow and killed everyone there and now he was getting ready to attack Harry's current location.

“Ahhhhhhh but of course…you have figured it out,” hissed the cold, snake-like voice, “I used that silly letter that your dear friend sent to you to track you both! After I eliminated your friends, I decided to come after you because now you are…alone.”

Harry painstakingly opened both his eyes and looked towards the desk where he kept all of his muggle writing tools. There he saw the same pencil he had seen two days ago and next to it was still poised the other pencil, strong and steadfast; it hadn't moved since he had gotten the letter.

He slowly straitened himself up and, with newfound strength, began to talk, “You're right…I am alone…” he stopped and clenched his fists, “BUT THAT HASN'T STOPPED ME YET!!!”

He summoned up all of his power and let out a powerful scream. The scream seemed to amplify tenfold because he wasn't the only one screaming, the disembodied voice was apparently in an immeasurable amount of pain.

“G…E…T…O…U…T!!!” he screamed one final time in a burst of yellow light. The hissing of the cold voice was spread all across the room in the explosion and then, crackled and disappeared.

Harry fell, panting, on his knees. Sweat drenched his body and the exhaustion of using that much power was taking its toll. Fighting it, he stood up and said, firm and strong, “Accio wand!” His wand lifted up off of the floor and flew to his hand. He looked around his room one more time and rushed out of the door. Pig, having been awakened by the mess and huddled up in Harry's bed sheets, decided it was time to leave and squeezed his tiny body through a crevice between the window and the windowsill and flew towards the night sky.

Uncle Vernon, aunt Petunia, and Dudley had been executing their original plan flawlessly the whole time that Harry had been speaking with the disembodied voice and had already knocked down half of their possessions by the time Harry bounded down the stairs.

“Stop acting like idiots and follow me!” screamed Harry as he pointed his wand at each one of them. They immediately responded and stood behind him, too afraid to do otherwise. He ran to the door with them following quickly behind and grasped the door handle. He looked back at them and said, “No matter what is outside, follow my orders and stick together.” He looked at the three of them and all he got back, instead of nods of assent, were nervous twitches of their heads and unintelligible mumbles.

He twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open to reveal a transformed exterior of the house. The front lawn's grass was frozen and dead, making it look like an alien landscape on Earth. The sky was dark, not because it was midnight, but because it was devoid of stars and the moon (Dudley started jittering when he saw this, as he remembered the occurrences of the night two years ago) and nothing at more than arm's length could be seen.

Harry looked around, shaken, as he realized what was happening. They are attacking…NOW! He thought as he tried to look around him for any sign of life. He found none, instead, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach; he felt as if the whole world was filled with pain and misery, as if he was destroyed on the inside, as if he would never be happy again.

Oh no…he thought as he fought back the fear in the pit of his stomach…they're here. He immediately jumped back into the house, quickly followed by his three followers. He spun around and stared at Dudley, “They're back Dudley, the Dementors, they're back…”

Dudley shakily nodded and tried to say something but his voice failed him. Harry then turned to face the three of them and in a forceful but calm voice said, “I need all of you to not be afraid,” he stopped and looked at the three of them again—they were petrified with fear, “Dementors…they can…they force your worst memories to relive themselves in your mind and can drive you crazy like this.” He stopped again and looked at the door for any sign of movement from the outside; there was none.

“There isn't much time…I need you guys to promise me that you'll think happy thoughts…no matter how many bad things you remember, THINK HAPPY.” He swung around and walked to the door. He peered outside one more time before he closed the door, pointed his wand at it, and whispered, “Colloportus,” with an odd noise, the door locked itself and was jammed.

He walked back towards his foster family and said, “That ought to buy us a little more ti-” but before he could finish his sentence explosions were heard outside and the whole house trembled. Harry swung his head back to fix his gaze at the door.

Raspy, cold voices were heard all around the house now and, suddenly, three of four of them shouted in unison, “REDUCTO!” Immediately, the door, along with the whole section of the house that was connected to the door, exploded into shrapnel. This left a huge gaping hole in the house which, strangely, didn't wake up anybody outside. Through the hole, nothing could be seen—it was all pitch-black.

Softly, wisps of smoke-like fabric began to melt into existence from the darkness and float a couple of inches off of the floor. Harry's eyes widened; it had been such a long time since he had seen a Dementor and now he remembered the awful feeling that enveloped him. The tattered fabric covering the Dementor would stick to its body with every motion, revealing a skeletal form as it floated towards Harry.

Uncle Vernon, aunt Petunia, and Dudley could not see it, but they could certainly feel it—they were huddled together, trembling. Harry held his wand in his clenched fist and raised it to point at the Dementor.

“Expecto Patronum!” he shouted as he took a strong step towards the assailant. Immediately, in a puff of white smoke and light, a powerful stag erupted out of the tip of his wand and landed in front of him. The Dementor stopped its movements and eerily tilted its head as it took in a deep, rasping breath.

“I'm…not…afraid…of…you…” said Harry in-between clenched teeth. “GET HIM!” he pointed his wand at the Dementor and, immediately, the stag ran at it and hit it head-on with its horns. The black figure was knocked out of the house, along with another section of wall that had been left standing, as the stag ran after it.

Harry walked out of the house and stood where the porch used to be and kept on directing the glowing stag with his wand. He could not see anything more than 3 feet around him so he said “L umos” as he kept his eye on his stag chasing the invisible Dementor. Immediately, his wand tip ignited in bright light and he paled—by the light from his wand.

“Get the boy!” shouted Bellatrix and, upon command, all of the Dementors turned towards Harry. He stared back to where his stag was and, to his horror, saw it melting away as he was enveloped in a feeling of pure dread. He turned and began running into the house, but as he did so, the death eaters in the front shouted in unison, “Stupefy!”

Five waves of red shot out of their wand tips and headed strait for him. “Protego!” shouted Harry and all of the spells were deflected from their imminent course with his body.

He slid down to where the three frightened forms of his foster family were and looked at them strait in the eyes. They were all shivering; aunt Petunia was crying on Dudley's shoulder and Uncle Vernon was purple with fright and rage at the intruders.

“LOOK AT THE HELL YOU HAVE BROUGHT ON US!!! YOUR TYPE OF PEOPLE!!! LOUSY BOY!!! WE SHOULD'VE NEVER AGREED TO TAKE YOU IN!!! WE SHOULD'VE DENIED YOU OUR HOME WHEN WE HAD THE CHANCE!!!” Uncle Vernon finished spewing out his rage on Harry and just stood there, panting.

Harry hadn't changed the expression he had when his uncle had started screaming at him; when he was finished, Harry just sighed at and looked down. “You know…you're right. I do cause pain and misfortune wherever I go. This is why today, as soon as I came of age, I was going to leave this house and remove the burden that you had been dealing with for these past 17 years.”

He looked back up and saw that, in each of their eyes, pity for Harry had arisen—something that he had never seen before.

“Until that time comes, though, I need you guys to bear with me and help me out here because we all might very well die today…” The three of them just looked on in awe of this new Harry they were just getting to know.

He motioned them to stand up and hold hands. They did so and, trembling, stood behind Harry. He closed his eyes and grasped his wand with both hands as he raised it to aim at the wave of Dementors that were falling upon them.

As he locked his eyes shut, he began to fight off the sad thoughts and painful memories and they became moments of joy: his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts, his first ride on a broom, Ron and…her.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, his eyes opened wide, emanating white light. His eyes were fogged up but he could see everything clearly and he pointed his wand at the onslaught of Dementors and yelled, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

A couple of seconds passed while Harry was with his wand pointing upwards and with his eyes shining in white and nothing happened. The Death Eaters looking on began to chuckle, but the laughing was short lived as Harry's wand started shooting silver streaks of light at the sky. They rose up higher than the house and then descended into the shape of a beautiful silver stag. The Dementors all froze as this was unfolding and began backing away slowly.

“GET THEM!!!” shouted Harry and his stag ran straight into the horde of creatures. Dozens were knocked to oblivion in the first blow and dozens more were blown away as the stag charged back.

More than half had been decimated and Harry was directing his stag towards some of the last ones. The stag galloped towards this pack of Dementors and with a blow from its powerful silvery antlers, the pack was destroyed. There were only two left now and Harry pointed the wand at them to finish it.

“Get them and end this now!!!” shouted Harry as he pointed his wand at the remaining two Dementors. The stag was getting closer to them as it galloped, but suddenly, it disintegrated into silvery lines and then disappeared.

Aunt petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley stood perplexed at why the magnificent show had ended until the screams of pain coming from Harry were heard over the hoarse breathing of the Dementors and the screams of panic from the Death Eaters.

“Crucio!” shouted Snape as he advanced through the porch towards Harry, wand in the air. Harry writhed in pain on the floor; his nerves were on fire; his whole body was ablaze; every inch of his body felt as if it had been stabbed with burning-hot knives.

He twitched and convulsed on the floor as Snape continued to say “Crucio!” Three more Death Eaters noticed that Harry was down and hurried to help Snape carry out his business while Voldemort, being the only one who had the full obedience of the Dementors, was rallying them up.

An echo of “Crucio!” was heard as the three advancing Death Eaters raised their wands at the three people behind Harry. Immediately, they assumed their positions next to Harry—screaming and writhing in pain. Snape kneeled beside Harry as he pushed his wand almost to Harry's forehead and stared at him in disgust.

“You pathetic little boy! This is what happens when you cross the Dark Lord. This is what happens when you don't give up when you have the chance. This is what happens when you just…don't…die…” His lip curled as a bead of sweat dripped down his hook-shaped nose. “What do you have to say to that…Mr. Potter?” He released his wand from Harry's forehead and Harry gasped for breath. He looked up at his assailant and looked beside him at his foster family being tortured.

“You have no idea…” he began to try and stand up to be able to give the ending of his sentence more force, but was interrupted when Snape pointed his wand at Harry's forehead again.

“I know you perform bizarre forms of magic when you are about to die…lets see how much you can take before it happens…” With that statement, he began moving his wand down Harry's face, down his neck, to come to rest at his heart.

He felt the pain growing with each passing moment and when it reached his heart, the pain was unbearable. Snape chuckled and shouted with all his might, “CRUCIO!”

The difference between a regular curse and one with feeling behind it was something Harry had studied and, thanks to Voldemort, been a part of; never had he been subjected to one.

He began convulsing as every muscle in his body spasmed. Foam started erupting out of his mouth and his eyes went wild.

“Come on Potter! You can do better than that!” said Snape as he pumped more and more of the curse down Harry's body.

The Dursley's were not being subjected to as much pain as Harry, but it was still more than they wanted. They were also writhing in the floor and hopping convulsively.

Dudley was crying, uncle Vernon had his face scrunched up and was purple (probably because of lack of breath since the curse was being aimed at his throat), but aunt Peunia was not fighting the curse; her face looked calm and serene—almost dead. Her head rolled as if it had no bones in it and her whole body resembled an earthworm trying to move.

Finally, in a vain attempt to move, she tilted her head and her eyes met Harry. A flash of light caught Harry's eyes as he looked into hers. The curse seemed to be distant and he could barely feel it. Suddenly, Petunia scrunched up her face and Harry saw himself flying through her eyes.

What is going on?! Thought Harry as he started seeing lights flash all around him. He suddenly flew straight into a wall of black and landed on hard floor. He slowly felt around him as he kept his ears listening for any enemies in the vicinity.

Realizing that no imminent danger was to come from his surroundings, he slowly and painfully rose to his feet. He started to turn but was cut short by a voice from behind him that said, “Don't move! I got you!”

Harry froze, this was it. He had escaped Snape but landed in the clutches of an unknown person.

“I'm sorry, I don't know what happened…where am I? how did I get here? I'm sorry for intruding bu-” Harry was cut short by a loud voice that said, “Oh no! You got me! AAAAAAAAAA!”

He quickly turned to aid the voice that seemed to have been hurt. He froze as he laid eyes upon the person who was saying all of the things he had previously heard. The man was bending down and facing something that was out of Harry's view.

He had raven-black hair that was jutting out in different directions and gave the appearance of untidiness. The man reared to his full height and turned his head towards Harry's location and Harry's eyes met the strangers. Harry's lip twitched as he paled and out of his mouth escaped the words, “Dad?”

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Hope you all enjoyed my little present in that cliffie…next chapter all will be explained so don't worry if you didn't understand very well what happened…if you want a hint…re-read what Snape said about Harry and what he does when he is in life threatening situations…

More updates soon…and remember…as always—read and review! Thanks!

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