All recognized characters belong to J.K. Rowling
Everything else is mine.
R – for violence, language and adult content
Contains male/male pairings- That's SLASH... you know, GAY
** This starts at the end of book 4 (Goblet of Fire)
Harry Potter and the Parliament of Dreams
Chapter 1 – Darkness Ascendant
Draco Malfoy slowly picked himself up off the floor.
The last thing he could remember was tormenting Potter, Weasel and the Mudblood.
He had just started to say something about Cedric Diggory’s death when he had
been hit from every direction by hexes and curses.
The train had apparently stopped moving a bit of
time ago, as the compartment next to them was empty of everyone. Crabbe and
Goyle were next to him in the corridor and were just waking up as well.
‘At least the hexes seemed to be wearing off,’
he thought idly to himself. Draco was no sooner standing fully upright again
when he was knocked back to the floor by a fist slamming into the side of his
head. This caused him to crash to the floor again and he looked up into the
eyes of his most recent assailant.
“No son of mine would allow Potter to best him,”
Lucius growled.
“Father, he had…” Draco trailed off when Lucius’
face darkened still further.
“You will be spending more time in the cells!
Now get off your lazy arse and get the hell off this rusty muggle contraption,”
Lucius yelled, barely containing his homicidal rage.
Lucius savagely kicked both Gregory Goyle and Vincent
Crabbe, “I’m not waiting for you two fools. GET UP!”
Goyle and Crabbe leapt up and all three boys practically
ran off the train. Lucius followed them out, practically foaming at the mouth.
"Bloody fools," Lucius growled.
Draco saw that the station was cleared of all but
a handful of Hogwarts students and their families. He turned when he heard
the whistle of Hogwarts Express as it started to pull away. He spotted their
luggage on three different carts near the barrier and he pointed it out to the
other two boys. All three had just got their luggage when Lucius stalked up.
He glared at the boys and they ran through the
barrier, pushing their luggage carts ahead of them. He followed them through
a moment later. They went straight towards the ancient muggle limousine that
the Malfoys owned and used on the occasions that required muggle transportation.
This mostly consisted of the trips to King’s Crosse.
The car started to move as soon as Lucius got in. There was an illusion of
a driver sitting in the front to stop muggles from seeing the magical nature
of the vehicle. In the back, Draco was sitting between Goyle and Crabbe. Lucius
sat across from them and glared at all three boys for the entire two-hour trip
to Malfoy Manor.
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was not having
a much better time himself. He was seated in the backseat of uncle Vernon Dursley's
newest car. Harry never could figure out why his uncle had a preoccupation
with being better than everyone else. The only person he could think of that
was anything like his uncle was the ultra-rich Draco Malfoy.
Harry’s thoughts soured at the thought of Malfoy.
Harry could accept the fact that Malfoy was a conceited prig, but why in Merlin’s
beard did he always have to torment Harry?
Harry’s thoughts then turned towards the upcoming
summer vacation. The only two things he could think of that was worse that
spending a summer with the Dursleys were to spend a summer with Hogwarts Caretaker
Argus Filch or with Professor Severus Snape. Of the three choices, he actually
preferred Professor Snape, his least favorite Professor. At least Snape was
a wizard.
Harry was deeply troubled by being out of contact
with his friends. It meant that he would be alone with his thoughts, and all
of his thoughts had lately been drifting towards Cedric Diggory and his cruel
death. The nightmares he was having weren’t really diminishing at all and the
memories of the Tri-Wizard Tournament were still quite vivid in his mind’s eye.
Since his aunt and uncle didn't like wizards at all, he didn’t think that they
were going to be terribly sympathetic to his monumental discomfort from the
whole thing. The thought struck him for the first time that Voldemort hated
muggles as much as his Uncle hated wizards. Fortunately, he thought dryly,
his uncle didn’t have any real power.
The trip had blinked by rather quickly as Harry
lost himself in his admittedly scattered thoughts. The large car pulled into
the perfectly normal drive at the perfectly normal house in the perfectly normal
neighborhood (thank you very much).
“Take your stuff to your room and stay there.
We will talk after dinner,” Vernon said, with a disgruntled look on his face.
Harry nodded to his uncle. Seemingly satisfied,
Vernon left the entryway and entered the living room. Harry turned to go up
the stairs and found himself face-to-face with his cousin. Smeltings, apparently,
had managed to get the rotund boy to lose some weight. He was still big, but
was considerably closer to normal-sized. Dudley glared at Harry and did not
move.
“The little wizard has returned, eh?” Dudley droned
at him.
“Unfortunately,” Harry replied with his eyes narrowed.
Dudley glared at him. After facing the evil of
Voldemort, Harry found that his larger cousin just didn’t frighten him anymore.
He did find himself wishing that he could use his wand to cast a spell to move
the larger boy aside, though.
“You don’t like it here? That’s good. I’d prefer
if you weren’t here either,” Dudley replied while continuing to glare at Harry.
“We can finally agree on something, it seems,”
Harry said, sounding very detached, cold.
Dudley just continued to glare at him while remaining
immobile on the stairs.
“Move. Now,” Harry finally snapped at Dudley.
The larger boy’s eyes opened in shock as he moved,
seemingly not under his own control.
Harry stomped his way past him, his trunk suddenly
much lighter, almost floating behind him.
Harry finally got all his stuff up to his room
and set it down. He looked around at the disused room for a moment before going
over and opening the window. He went back and let Hedwig out of her cage.
She gave him an affectionate nip and then sailed out the open window.
Harry went over to his bed and lay down. He was
feeling very tired and he just wanted to get some sleep in before dinner. For
the first time in quite a while, he dropped into a deep sleep as soon as his
head hit the pillow. It didn’t take long at all for him to start dreaming.
This time it wasn’t about Cedric.
As soon as the car stopped, everybody scrambled
out. Draco tried in vain to get to his room and away from his father. Lucius
dropped a restraining hand on Draco’s shoulder, effectively preventing him from
going anywhere at all.
“You two should go inside and use the Floo Network
to get home. Your fathers are expecting you,” Lucius said to a cowed Crabbe
and Goyle.
“Thank you sir,” Crabbe managed to squeak out as
the two boys rushed inside.
“You, my dear Dragon, are going to be punished,”
Lucius told Draco, a mad light flickering in his eyes.
“But Father,” Draco started to protest.
Lucius slapped him viciously across the mouth.
Draco stopped talking and stared at his father.
Lucius smiled madly at his son as he watched a
dark scarlet line stain his son’s pale chin. The blood dripped slowly down
Draco’s face from a cut on his lip. Draco made no effort to stop it from doing
so.
Lucius clamped his hand on Draco’s neck and pushed
his only son towards the extensive dungeons, and torture chambers, that were
housed under the Malfoy Manor.
Draco’s mind had shutdown in shock. As bad as
his father usually was, this was much worse. Normally, his father would at
least listen to an explanation. Draco barely noticed his surroundings as he
went through the many corridors leading to his much-frequented cell.
Lucius opened the door and shoved Draco into the
cell very roughly. Draco was caught off guard by the very viciousness of it
and was unprepared to brace himself as he sailed into the wall. His head smacked
the cold concrete with a loud, wet thud. There was a blood smear on the wall
where his scalp was opened. He dropped unconscious onto the bed, not hearing
the door slam shut and the lock clicking into place.
Lucius stalked off with a smile on his face, leaving
his heir bleeding in the small cell, deep under the manor.
Draco found himself drifting in the dark. He
could tell that he was dreaming, but it was unlike any dream he ever had before.
Quite suddenly another Draco startled him by standing from a chair hidden in
the shadows and walking towards him.
“Welcome to your conscience,” the other Draco
said.
“Conscience? I’ve never had one of those before,”
Draco said, sneering at double.
“I’ve always been here. The problem is you
were never able to hear me before,” the other Draco replied.
“Why now?” Draco said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Now, because now is important. The games you
have played in the past are coming to an end. You have a decision facing you.
It has been a long time in coming,” the other Draco commented dryly.
“What? Good versus evil?” Draco sneered at
his alter ego.
“Indeed,” the other Draco smirked at him.
Draco came up short on how to answer that, “What
is my choice?”
“You are going to have to decide whether you
are going to support Lord Voldemort or support the side of light,” the other
Draco said with a wide smile.
Draco snapped irritably, “I don’t think I have
much of a choice. Even if I could join that sniveling Potter and his Weasel’s
side, I wouldn’t be accepted there. My father would kill me for even considering
it.”
“There is much more to it than that, my dear
Draco,” the other Draco blinked at him, sounding suddenly sappy.
“The choice is coming soon, very soon. Choose
wisely, or we will both regret it,” the other Draco said as he faded from view.
Draco sat bolt upright like he had been zapped
with a jolting curse. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat and he had
to sit still for some time before it calmed enough for him to move. He got
up slowly and went to the small sink in the corner of the cell and wetted a
towel. He very gently cleaned the blood out of both his hair and off from his
face.
Draco stared at himself in the mirror. His reflection
suddenly took on a life of its own. His reflection mouthed the words “Choose
wisely.” The reflection was suddenly wearing the shocked look that Draco knew
to be on his face.
He had a lot of thinking to do. He would do it
later though, when his head didn’t hurt so bloody much, he thought as he lay
back down on his bed.
Harry came awake in his dream. This time, for
once, he wasn’t in that lonely cemetery. The tall, handsome Cedric wasn’t there
either.
Instead, Harry was alone in a room, with a single
light, dimly lighting it. He wasn’t alone though; there was another Harry there
with him.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked his double.
“The times ahead are going to be very hard on
all of the people on the side of light,” the other Harry said quietly.
“No bloody shit,” Harry snapped irritably at
his double.
“We are going to need the help of everyone we
can get. Lord Voldemort is more powerful than he ever was,” the other Harry
continued quietly, ignoring the outburst.
“I know that,” Harry replied, his temper considerably
more contained.
“You need to approach Draco Malfoy and bring
him onto the side of light,” the other Harry whispered.
Harry’s temper raised again, “That slimy git?
How could he be a use to us?”
“He, like you, is special. You will discover
more in time,” the other Harry added, forestalling Harry’s impending question.
“But…”
“Trust your instincts, they won’t lead you wrong,”
his dream self told him as it faded from view.
“Harry!” a female voice yelled.
Harry got up quickly and shuffled down the stairs. Petunia gave him a stern
look as he took his normal seat at the Dursley dinner table.
Draco woke up at dinnertime when a house-elf made
a noise next to him. The large-eared house-elf stared at Draco for a moment
before backing his way slowly out of the cell that Draco was locked in.
Draco ate the food that was provided. For once,
it was more than just bread and water. It was fairly decent lamb mutton. There
was some good bread provided which he polished off as well.
On a nondescript wooden stand near the cell door,
there was a book. Draco did not notice it sitting there until after he finished
eating. Draco picked it up and noticed right away that the thick tome focused
on advanced magic. He began to read it right from the beginning, since reading
it was far better than staring at the gothic horror ceiling above him.
Draco’s next few days passed without contact with anyone or anything. His
meals were the only punctuation in his continuous cycle of reading and sleeping.
The food itself was left at odd hours and the dirty dishes vanished soon after
he finished. He never noticed for sure, since he was either sleeping or reading
when it happened.
For Harry, dinner with the Dursleys was the usual
mixture of being outright ignored and being yelled at when he was noticed.
Aunt Petunia had changed her cooking habits again. Now, instead of the rabbit
food she had been feeding then, she was once again feeding them decent food.
The food came in smaller portions than the old days, however. Harry did manage
to get enough to eat. Harry was the first to finish and he wanted to get back
to his room. He stood and was about to go back to his room when Vernon’s massive
mustache twitched.
“Where are you going boy? I told you we were going
to talk to you after dinner,” Vernon blustered.
“Yes, sir,” Harry said, sitting back down in his
seat.
It took several more minutes for Vernon to complete
his own dinner. Harry waited quietly the whole time, staring out the window
at the birds fluttering by.
“Petunia needs a break from the housework,” Vernon
began without further preamble. “You will be doing all of it until told otherwise.
You can start with the dishes,” Vernon said, pointedly looking at the huge pile
of dishes next to the sink.
Harry looked blankly at the large man for a few
moments before getting up to do his task.
The next few days set into an ungodly routine for
Harry. He got up early every morning to cook breakfast and spent the entire
day taking orders from Petunia. By the end of each day, Harry could barely
move his arms and climbing the stairs to his room was difficult.
Dudley was a rather large annoyance during this
whole time as well. He spent nearly equal amounts of time harassing Harry and
watching television.
Harry managed to climb into his bed at the end of the fourth day of dawn to
dusk work. He fell instantly into a deep sleep, dreaming for the first time
since his afternoon nap the first day home. The physical exhaustion had at
least kept the nightmares of Voldemort at bay.
It was sometime in the middle of his fourth night
home when Draco was dragged from his bed in the cell and slapped viciously by
Lucius.
“Wake up you bloody damned fool!” his father screeched
at him
“Yes, sir,” the broken and defeated Draco replied.
“After a week of punishment, you will have to come
with me to meet the Dark Lord. He wishes to speak to you. You will obey any
orders he gives you. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Draco replied quietly, devoid of conviction
SLAP! “You better sound more enthusiastic when
you talk to the Dark Lord!”
Draco merely nodded in response.
Lucius was about to hit him again, but a house-elf
interrupted him.
“Master, Mr. Nott is here to see you, sir. He
says it is quite important.”
“Fine,” snapped the elder Malfoy as he turned and
stormed out of the dungeon.
Draco went to the sink and wiped off his face,
the cool water soothing the burning from the slaps. As soon as he was done
he lay back on the bed and again lost consciousness.
He had a strange dream this time. He was flying
on the Quidditch pitch, searching for the golden snitch, when he saw his opponent.
The great Harry Potter.
He was about to head towards him when a figure
in black robes and a mask appeared below him and shouted, “Crucio!”
The pain struck him hard and the last thing
he saw was Potter rushing towards him with a concerned look on his face. He
woke up again as his father slapped him hard across his face.
“Damn fool boy! I leave for two hours and you
go back to bed? You are my son! You should be smarter than that,” Lucius roared.
Lucius proceeded to administer a punishment that
topped nearly every beating he ever gave. And that was quite an accomplishment
given just how much he was beaten. Lucius never lacked for reasons either.
He was too nice to the other children. He was not proficient enough at ten
to throw the Imperius curse. He failed to make Harry Potter his confident at
age eleven. He failed to beat Mudblood Granger in grades. He did not make
the top of his class. The list went on and on. Draco went to that place in
his mind where he didn’t feel the pain in his body. He was vaguely aware of
flying through the air just before he smacked into the wall above his bed.
He was unconscious by the time he hit the bed, his body askew.
For the rest of the week, Draco went back to his
routine of reading, eating and sleeping. He was sleeping when Lucius returned
late one night.
SLAP!
“Wake up you stupid fool! We are leaving for the
Dark Lord’s fortress.”
Draco’s eyes snapped open and stared at Lucius.
The pain and loneliness he felt changed to anger and his eyes burned with rage.
If looks could kill, Lucius would be a smoking pile of ash. He actually took
a step back from Draco is surprise.
Lucius responded angrily to his own show of fear
and punched Draco hard in the jaw. Draco reeled back, his eyes continuing to
burn as his face contorted into a mask of indefinable rage. Lucius felt raw
magical power surge around him.
Lucius’ eyes opened wide in shock as he grabbed
his wand, pointed it at Draco and screamed, “STUPIFY!”
Draco continued to stare at Lucius as the power
flowed faster.
Horrified, Lucius screamed, “STUPIFY!” again.
This time, Draco slumped forward unconscious, magical
energy still cackling in the air around them.
Lucius almost ran from the dungeon. He Disapparated
as soon as he made it past the wards he kept on the dungeon area. He Apparated
next to Wormtail moments later. He was severely shaken and panting slightly.
“You were supposed to bring that brat of yours,”
growled the fat, rat-faced man.
The shaken look was replaced with the Malfoy sneer,
“How would you like to get fed to a large cat?”
Wormtail blanched. “The Dark Lord is awaiting
your arrival. I suggest that you don’t keep him waiting for long.”
Lucius spun and stormed off to the throne room
of the castle Lord Voldemort was currently occupying.
“You’re late,” said a high-pitched, toneless voice
as soon as he was in the room.
“Explain yourself!” roared Voldemort when he noticed
that Lucius was alone.
Lucius bowed immediately. “I apologize my Lord.
I went to collect my son and he displayed a remarkable insolence. After hitting
him, a tremendous amount of magical energy flowed around him. It took two applications
of stupefy to sedate him. After doing so, the air around him cackled with magical
energy. I came straight here after getting him subdued.”
Voldemort’s eyebrows went up slightly as his brow
curled in concentration. “Go back and bring him to me at once.”
Lucius turn and hurried out of the room and Apparated
back to the Malfoy Manor.
Voldemort turned and stared at the fire, which
was glowing a brilliant green. He stared at it for quite some time as he waited
for Lucius to return with the boy. Voldemort turned when he heard his great
serpent Nagini hiss that Malfoy had returned, the boy floating unconscious behind
him.
“Enervate,” Voldemort said lazily.
Draco’s eyes snapped open and he immediately glared
at his father until he noticed Voldemort. All the color drained from his face,
as his eyes seem to triple in size. The retort he was about to give Lucius
died unsaid in his throat as his body stiffened in fright.
Lucius stepped back out of sight of Draco and watched
the Dark Lord’s actions with a blank expression on his face.
Voldemort watched the boy for a short while, seeming
to drink in the terror that was flowing off of him.
“You didn’t want to come to see me?” Voldemort
asked, his voice having a distinct snake quality to it.
Draco stared at him in shock.
“You will answer me when I ask a question, young
Mr. Malfoy!” Voldemort roared when Draco made no move to answer.
Draco still stared.
“Crucio!” Voldemort screamed, while pointing his wand at Draco.
Hundreds of kilometers away, the sleeping Harry
Potter sat straight up in his bed. The pain in his scar was almost as intense
as when he was standing next to the Dark Lord. He lay back down almost as soon
as he was upright.
Harry then felt his consciousness drifting out
of his body and flying over the countryside. He rapidly approached a large,
gloomy castle. It took almost no time at all until he was standing, ghostlike
in a throne room. Draco Malfoy was writing around on the ground in intense
pain. Lucius was watching his son's pain with a predatory smile on his face.
Voldemort looked equally sadistic.
Harry watched as Voldemort released his spell on
Draco. The blond-haired boy stopped writhing around on the ground and started
gasping for air. As much as Harry didn’t like Draco, he felt sympathy for him,
because he knew what that pain felt like.
Harry’s own anger built as well. He hated being
connected to the odious beast before him. Harry had no idea how he came to
actually be here and it was frustrating not having control of his own actions.
Harry’s ghostlike form moved over to hover in front of Draco of its own accord.
Harry suddenly found himself between the boy on the ground and the Dark Lord.
Harry shook lightly in fear, causing ripples to flow up and down his ghost form.
“Enervate!” the Dark Lord shouted. The spell passed
through Harry and struck Draco, causing him to bolt upright.
The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes suspiciously at
the spot Harry was floating, but refocused on Draco quickly.
“Why were you afraid of coming to me, Draco?” Voldemort
whispered quietly.
“I will not serve you,” Draco finally answered.
Harry’s unseen eyebrows rose in surprise, overcoming
a small portion of the fear he was feeling.
Voldemort looked angry enough to breathe fire,
“Serve or I’ll take your mind away from you and you’ll serve me anyway!”
“No,” Draco said defiantly.
Harry stood still hoping against all hope he could
somehow protect the boy behind him, while at the same time wondering how he
managed to find himself stuck there to begin with.
Voldemort was violently angry and cast a spell
at Draco that Harry had never seen before. The spell passed straight through
Harry and touched Draco. As soon as it touched Draco, the spell flared around
Harry, making him completely visible to the people in the room.
Voldemort yanked his wand up in surprise, canceling
the spell.
Harry’s ghost form solidified in the room, becoming
a semi-transparent gray. Draco stared in shock at the back of an all too familiar
ghost.
“You!” Voldemort roared.
“Lord Voldemort,” Harry whispered, steadying himself,
trying to be brave.
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed further, “Leave.”
“I wish I could,” Harry squeaked back.
“Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort roared at Harry.
The sickly green light passed through Harry again,
striking Draco.
Draco felt a violent tug and an energy drain, but
it stopped quickly and he looked on in surprise at Voldemort, feeling amazed
that he was still alive.
Voldemort looked alarmed, “What the hell did you
do?”
Harry’s form shimmered as he shook his head back
and forth, a look of confusion overpowering the look of fear on his pale ghostly
face.
Voldemort walked over to his throne and sat it
in with a due amount of grace. His anger vanished as he contemplated the unprecedented
magical events he just participated in.
Harry slowly faded from sight, becoming a mere
outline of himself. He watched as Voldemort got up and went to a vault that
was hidden behind the throne. He pulled out a large ruby, ensconced on a gold
medallion. Voldemort strolled right up to Draco and touched the jewel to his
temple.
Voldemort had his eyes closed in concentration
for a few moments before he leaped backwards in shock.
Harry was feeling very tired now, barely able to
keep his consciousness in Voldemort’s throne room. His form winked in and out
of visibility.
Voldemort forced himself to calm down as he cast
a last spell. It was directed at Harry, but he didn't recognize it. Harry
drifted back to sleep, leaving the room altogether.
As soon as Voldemort was sure that Potter was gone,
he cast a memory charm on Draco.
“Lucius, take your brat back to your manor. Do
not harm him in any way. Just leave him alone. I have to do some research
on what happened here today. Do you understand me?” Voldemort asked with a
hard edge in his voice.
“Yes, my lord,” Lucius said while bowing deeply.
“Go now,” the Dark Lord commanded.
Lucius and the unconscious Draco arrived at the
Malfoy manor seconds later. Lucius was completely baffled by his Lord’s actions.
He did bring Draco up to his own room, however. He used a repelling spell to
throw his son onto his bed. He then turned and stormed out of the room, slowly
only long enough to magically lock the door.
He then turned and violently kicked an unfortunate
elf that was passing by laden with towels. The poor elf went airborne over
the third floor railing and plummeted to the ground, three floors below. The
towels the elf was carrying landed all over the ground floor like some sort
of linen mosaic. The elf ended up next to the far wall, cradling its head in
its arms.
Lucius growled and stormed down the stairs heading to his study.
Draco woke up early the next morning. He was hurting
all over from the beatings he had received. Happily though, he was finally
in his own room. He didn't remember getting there and, in fact, he couldn't
remember anything since his father slapped him awake to go see the Dark Lord.
Not that it really mattered.
He went to his school trunk and withdrew his wand.
Knowing that the wards protecting Malfoy Manor would prevent detection of underage
magic use, he cast a few healing spells on himself to repair some of the damage.
Satisfied that he did all that he could, he went to his dresser and stripped
naked. He stood in front of the full-length mirror for a moment, looking over
his thin, toned body. His pale skin was marred in many places with ugly purple
bruises.
The mirror clucked its sympathy and then cursed
Lucius for damaging such a lovely boy. Draco did not dwell on his appearance,
feeling too ashamed to look himself in the eye.
He turned away quickly and headed into his shower.
He stayed there for over half an hour, letting the hot water clean the shame
and pain, as well as the dried blood, from his body.
He felt alone, so very alone.
Harry woke up with a start and regretted it immediately.
His head was pounding and his scar was throbbing as well. He stared puzzled
at the wall next to his bed, but he couldn't remember anything that would have
caused his scar to throb. Since he couldn’t remember, he just lay down and
tried to get back to sleep. It didn't take long.
He woke up early the next morning and he worked
until his bones were weary. The day did pass quickly until he was called to
the kitchen, that is.
Vernon Dursley sat at the kitchen table with an
odd array of emotions playing across his face. Anger, irritation, and no small
of amount of dislike were all displayed. However, sympathy was mixed in which
made him look odd indeed.
“Harry, the Headmaster of your school wrote a letter
to us before you returned from school. We received another letter this morning,”
he said stealing a quick glance at Petunia. She merely nodded for him to continue.
He looked back at Harry and continued, “He stated
rather firmly that we were to allow you to study your… magic,” he spat
the m-word out, “he also said something about a terrible ordeal you suffered
through at the end of the school year.”
He looked curiously at Harry. They stared at each
other for a little while before Vernon prompted angrily, “Well?”
“I was almost killed. A friend of mine was killed.
The whole,” Harry paused, changing what he was about to say, “my people are
scared due to the return of a very powerful and very evil man. He has been
on the run since… well,” he simply fingered the scar on his head.
Petunia collapsed against Vernon, while Vernon
turned deadly pale.
“What have you done to us?” Vernon gasped out.
He raised his hand as if he was about to strike Harry.
Harry’s eyes flashed in a sudden green fire. His
eyes glowed noticeably as an intense dislike came across his face.
Vernon paused momentarily in fright, but anger
about being cowed by a mere boy overtook his better judgment and he swung at
Harry. His fist connected with Harry’s jaw and Harry fell to the floor. Only
a small thump was heard when he landed. Vernon lost control of his rage and
viciously kicked Harry in the ribs. As he did so, he yelled various insults
about Harry’s parentage.
Vernon then reached down and dragged Harry up by
the neck. There was blood trickling out of his mouth and nose. Vernon had
only a few moments to ponder what he had done before Harry’s eyes snapped open
and all three windows in the kitchen burst into a million pieces of glass.
Moments later, the lamps, glasses and plates burst too.
Vernon dropped him and Petunia could only stare
in shock.
Harry picked himself off the floor and stared at
Vernon with anger boiling in his eyes. Vernon and Petunia, for the first time
in their lives, could feel magical energy rolling off from Harry like heat from
an oven. Harry’s eyes glowed an intense green so bright that it was difficult
to look at. He ignored the blood trickling down his chin from the cut on his
lip as he glared at his uncle like some sort of creature that needed prompt
extermination. Vernon stared back at him for a few moments before taking a
step forward to try to retake control of the situation.
Harry waved his hand and Vernon was picked off
his feet and thrown backwards into the kitchen wall, scattering the pots and
pans in every direction. Vernon slid down the wall unconscious.
The intense glow in Harry’s eyes flashed out suddenly and Harry felt utterly
drained. His eyes drooped and he collapsed to the floor, unable to hold himself
up any longer. Harry's arm landed in the broken glass from the windows and
the force of the impact severed an artery in his wrist. The bright red blood
from the cut flowed out quickly while Petunia could only stare in horror.
Flora Sprout and Minerva McGonagall were in the
Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade for the first time since the students had left
the castle for the summer. Even though they were discussing business, in this
case the class syllabus for the third year Herbology classes, they were also
relaxing. They were each about halfway through their second butterbeer of the
evening.
Minerva stopped mid-sentence and stood up so fast
that her chair flipped over backwards. Flora saw the talisman that Minerva
was wearing glowing brightly and up nearly as fast knocking over her own butterbeer
in the process. They were halfway out the door by the time Flora was able to
speak.
“Minerva, that’s the spell detector for Potter,
isn’t it?”
“Yes! We need to Apparate there right now.”
As soon as she was clear of the Three Broomsticks,
she did just that.
Flora nodded and Disapparated a moment later.
They both reappeared as close to number 4 Privet Drive as they could get. They
ran towards the house as fast as the old woman could go and Minerva used a blasting
spell to blow open the front door.
The sound of the door bursting open startled Petunia
from the bloody mess in front of her. She started shaking violently and screaming
at the top of her lungs. Professors McGonagall and Sprout followed the noise
and stormed into the kitchen.
Professor Sprout took one look at Petunia and yelled,
“Stupefy!”
Petunia landed on the only part of the floor not
occupied with glass.
McGonagall glanced at the rapidly growing pool
of blood beneath Harry and she cast a spell to slow the bleeding. She looked
at Harry’s pale, bruised face in shock.
“Merlin’s beard. What happened?” Sprout asked
looking Harry over as well.
“I think our young Mr. Potter might have accidentally
used a talent which we didn’t know he had. After getting beat, that is,” McGonagall
said with her eyes narrowing dangerously.
“You don’t mean that…”
“Of course that’s what I mean!” Minerva snapped.
“We must tell the headmaster immediately.”
“We need to get him out of here first so Poppy
can look him over. I didn’t realize these muggles where so horrid to him.
The poor boy has barely been home a week.”
“We’ll need to get past the anti-Apparation field.
Then we can go straight to Hogsmeade.”
“Let’s go. We’ll let the Ministry clean up those
worthless muggles,” Minerva commanded as she magically lifted Harry on to the
stretcher she conjured up.
It took a bit of time, almost fifteen minutes,
to get to Hogsmeade, since they had to carry Harry free of the anti-Apparation
area while avoiding Muggle detection. As soon as they were in Hogsmeade, they
jumped into the horseless carriage that they had used earlier.
Harry was strewn across the seat opposite the two
professors. He was a shocking shade of white and his wrist was slowly seeping
blood. The carriage careened up the drive towards Hogwarts School of Witchcraft
and Wizardry as Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of
the Gryffindor House, stared at the Boy Who Lived with a deeply worried look,
hoping against hope that he would once again live up to that name.
End of Chapter 1
Next Chapter
