I actually started this story back before 'Homecoming' but felt it was a bit too close in content to my 'Thorny Rose' series, not to mention a bit of a dull HBP re-write. However, I was saved by reading two absolutely terrible books I bought on Kindle for about £0.79 each (and, yes, I was ripped off). The first was a second rate Tom Clancy style 'pre-history' of WW3, written by some journalist who apparently had zero experience of anything military. The second was a book on Gnostic religion which started off interestingly enough, but then nosedived into some sort of manual for a suicide cult. I only bought it because I was interested in the Gnostic elements of Gene Wolfe's masterful 'Book of the New Sun' series - I wasn't expecting someone to tell me to top myself once I'd reached a higher plane of existence! However, both books ended up having elements I could incorporate into my story, although it might take a while before you start to see them.
Arnel is back as my trusty beta reader, and is already earning her money. Not that I pay her, of course, other than in eternal gratitude.
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Intimate Sexual Situations, Rape, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 369 Summary: It started with a surprising proposals from an unexpected source, but that was only the beginning. Soon, Harry finds himself dealing with forces beyond his imagination and dreams, and ultimately finds that the world is not what he believed it to be. Hitcount: Story Total: 99081; Chapter Total: 6229 Author's Notes: |
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Harry lay on his bed, fully dressed, and stared at the ceiling. He’d been back at Privet Drive for nearly a week now, but time had ceased to have much meaning to him. Depression had robbed him of all his energy, and he could do nothing apart from just lay there, stewing in his own misery. It was the guilt that was the worst thing, he felt. The knowledge that if he’d only stopped to think, or listened to Hermione, his godfather would still be alive. He was a fool, and Sirius had been the one who had paid the price for that foolishness. Harry had barely moved from his bed since he’d arrived home from Hogwarts. He’d only left his room to use the bathroom and to take the occasional meagre meal. He mostly survived on packets of crisps and sweets he brought back with him. His poor diet was making him sick, but he was so upset that it hardly made a difference, anyway. As night fell and the only sound he could hear was Hedwig clicking her beak occasionally, Harry slowly drifted off into a restless, troubled sleep… He awoke with a start, aware of the feeling of hard, cold stone beneath him. Jumping up, he looked around in alarm. Instantly, he recognised the dark cavernous space that was the Chamber of Secrets. “I must be dreaming,” he muttered to himself. “You might be forgiven for thinking so, but it’s not the case, I can assure you,” the cultured voice of a young man said calmly from somewhere nearby. Harry spun around to see Tom Riddle standing impassively a few yards away. He was dressed in his Slytherin robes, and looked exactly the same as Harry remembered from his encounter with the diary, over three years previously. Desperately, Harry reached for his wand, only to remember that it was still on his desk back at Privet Drive. Slowly, he began to back away from his hated foe, in preparation of turning and running. “It’s no use trying to flee,” Riddle announced smoothly. “There’s no escape from this place.” “How did you manage to bring me back here?” Harry demanded, his voice shaking from a mix of fear and anger. “Oh, we’re not in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry, this is all happening inside your head,” Riddle smiled. “What? What are you talking?” Harry said abruptly, still eyeing his foe warily. Riddle walked forward and tapped Harry lightly on the forehead with his finger. “We’re in here,” he announced in an amused voice. “How did you manage to get inside my head?” Harry asked with mounting panic. “Harry, I’ve been here for years,” Riddle replied. “In fact, I’ve been here since October 1981. You know that.” “I… what are you talking about? What are you saying?” Harry spluttered, his eyes wide in alarm. “Have you really not figured it out yet? Come along, Harry, there have been enough clues! The diary that possessed little Ginny Weasley was the biggest one, your mysterious connection to Voldemort being another. Have you really not figured out what happened to you?” Riddle asked smugly. “Why do you talk like Voldemort is a different person?” Harry yelled angrily. “You told me that you’re really him, remember?” “Ah, no. That wasn’t me, not really. Perhaps a part of something I once was, but not actually me,” Riddle explained. “What the hell are you talking about? Get out of my head!” Harry all but screamed. “That’s the trick, isn’t it?” Riddle laughed. “But perhaps a more detailed explanation is in order. I used to be part of the person you know as Lord Voldemort, a tiny part of him, anyway. I am a splinter of his soul that became embedded in you when Voldemort’s body was destroyed by your mother’s brave sacrifice back in 1981. I exist in you much the same way as that other splinter of Voldemort’s soul existed when it was placed in the diary.” “There was part of Voldemort’s actual soul in the diary?” Harry gasped in horror. “But why? How did it get there?” “It was put there intentionally. The diary, you see, was turned into an object called a Horcrux,” Riddle explained. “A Horcrux is a powerful object in which a Dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her own soul for the purpose of attaining immortality. Creating a Horcrux gives one the ability to anchor one's soul to earth if their body is destroyed. The more Horcruxes one creates, the closer one is to true immortality. Creating multiple Horcruxes can be costly to the creator, however, both diminishing their humanity and even physically disfiguring them.” “So, that’s why Voldemort looks like a snake now?” Harry asked, his fear slowly being overcome by his curiosity. “Indeed, and it also explains why he wasn’t killed when your mother’s most excellent magic caused his Killing Curse to rebound on himself. His body might have been destroyed, but his soul was anchored to this earth,” Riddle said grimly. “And that’s why he needed to obtain a new body!” Harry exclaimed. “I think you’re beginning to catch on, young Harry,” Riddle smiled. “Now, think of the consequences of these Horcruxes existing. What do they mean to you?” “They mean... shit! He can’t be killed, can he? Voldemort is immortal and we can’t defeat him!” Harry cried in alarm. “Now, Harry, let’s have less of that defeatist attitude, eh? You are correct in stating he cannot be killed at the moment, but should all his Horcruxes be destroyed, then he can die just like anyone else. The hard part will be finding these objects and dealing with them,” Riddle informed him calmly. Harry suddenly looked at the older boy suspiciously. “Why are you telling me all this?” Harry demanded. “You said you were a part of Voldemort’s soul. You should be doing everything you can to hinder me, not help me.” “Ah, now we come to the interesting part,” Riddle grinned. “Tell me, Harry, what do you think will happen to me; a tiny, isolated part Voldemort’s soul, if you are killed?” “I guess that you’ll end up like Voldemort did after he attacked me when I was a toddler, won’t you? Just become a disembodied spirit?” Harry speculated cautiously. “I rather think not,” Riddle disagreed. “I am in essence a Horcrux, just like the diary was. When you so bravely destroyed that book several years ago, the soul fragment in it was cast out into the ether, destined to exist in that grey limbo between life and death. That splinter of soul was just an anchor, a fragment, and couldn’t exist by itself. If you are killed, and if things continue the way they have been going I fear that is a certainty, a similar fate will greet me.” “So… hold on,” Harry floundered. “If I have a Horcrux inside me… do I have to die for Voldemort to be defeated?” “As it stands, yes,” Riddle replied bluntly. Harry’s legs folded underneath him and he crumpled to the floor. While his life hadn’t exactly been a bed of roses, to learn that he was fated to die just short of his sixteenth birthday was a bitter, bitter blow. His head swam and he felt tears forming in his eyes. Desperately, he tried to think of a way out of the situation. “Perhaps if I told Dumbledore…” he began. “Do you really think Dumbledore doesn’t know all this?” Riddle interrupted him contemptuously. “Everything that has happened to you in your short life has occurred due to the manipulations of that man. He knew you had a Horcrux in your head from the moment he saw you, which is why he hid you away with your dreadful Muggle relatives. Letting you live in the Wizarding world would have been far too much of a risk. If you’d picked up the wrong book, or some clever person had put two and two together, your terrible secret might have been uncovered.” “He wouldn’t do that,” Harry protested, although his voice didn’t carry much conviction. His faith in the old wizard was already strained to breaking point. “Think about the prophecy, then,” Riddle urged. “Clearly, Dumbledore knew it from the beginning and was aware that you were the one with ‘the power to vanquish the Dark Lord’ as it states. Tell me, if he knew that, why didn’t he do everything in his power to make you a great wizard? If I knew that a child was destined to fight a terrible foe, I would have started his magical training as early as possible, given him special care and attention, and basically made sure he was well prepared to face his enemy. Did he do that for you, Harry?” “He said he wanted me to have a normal, happy childhood,” Harry said lamely. “Yes, putting you with the Dursleys certainly achieved that, didn’t it?” Riddle noted sarcastically. “But don’t you think it odd that Dumbledore would risk your life and that of every witch and wizard in the country, just so you could act like a normal child? I hardly think so. No, Harry, Dumbledore knew that you had to die for Lord Voldemort to be defeated, and that the power to vanquish him would be your own sacrifice.” Harry sat and stared at the boy in silence for a long while. “Oh… bollocks,” he said eventually. “An accurate summarization of the situation,” Riddle grinned. “However, I think I can do something to improve matters. While I might be just a splinter of his soul, I share Voldemort’s deep fear of death. That said, living inside your head for nearly fifteen years has given me a rather different perspective on things, Harry. It is not death, as such, that I fear now; it’s the eternal damnation that I would face should I be cast out into the heavens. In search of immortality, Voldemort has committed the greatest crime against the universe that is possible: the desecration of his own soul. As a sundered part of Voldemort’s soul, I can only look forward to everlasting pain and despair, Harry, and I will not permit that to happen!” “So, you’re just trying to save yourself!” Harry accused him. “But of course! Do you really think anyone would willingly accept such a fate? No, Harry, I will not meekly allow myself to be cast into eternal purgatory, and if it means arranging for my former self to go in my place, so be it!” Riddle snapped. Harry stared at him in shock. “Besides, as I said, being inside your head for so long and changed me somewhat,” Riddle continued in a calmer voice. “Oh, don’t get me wrong: I’m still the most evil person it could be your misfortune to meet, but sharing your life has left me open to… other possibilities, shall we say.” “What do you mean?” Harry demanded. Riddle sighed deeply. “In many ways we are incredibly alike, you and I,” he said. “We both lost our parents at an early age, and were abused as children. However, whilst I grew resentful and full of hate, you accepted your situation manfully and just tried to cope as best you could. The first time I accidentally used magic, I used it to cause crippling pain to another child at my orphanage. You, however, merely used magic to escape the clutches of that fat idiot of a cousin of yours. A significant difference, I think. The point is, however, I saw what I might have done differently.” “I find that hard to believe,” Harry snorted. “And I don’t blame you,” Riddle smirked. “But I’m not pretending that I would have ever been all sweetness and light. I have never admitted to anyone, but my father was a Muggle whom my mother ensnared using a Love Potion. Being the creation of such a warped union, I doubt I would have ever been able to truly feel love or happiness, even if my parents had stayed together and raised me. No, I’m merely saying that your way of life is no longer as abhorrent to me as it once was. It wasn’t always that way, though. Do you know what anger and contempt I felt for you as you grew up? The meek way you accepted all that abuse from your filthy Muggle relatives, or the beatings at the hands of your cousin? I despised you and everything about you.” “Then what changed?” Harry asked. “Quite simply, you did. Ever since you started attending Hogwarts, you have been, for want of a better description, a hero. You have shown bravery, persistence, ingenuity and strength. You’ve fought with my former self numerous times and survived, killed a basilisk, become a Triwizard Champion, defeated Death Eaters and generally been so heroic it made me sick. I might still have despised you, but I was forced to respect you, too,” Riddle grudgingly admitted. “But it was not these acts of daring that made the most impression on me, oh no. I have never had a friend in my whole life, Harry, and through you I learnt what it was to have one. Good friends, people who would risk their lives for you and who you could trust with your darkest secrets. I had servants, not friends; people who obeyed me through fear or the promise of reward. Your friendship with Ron and Hermione left a deep impression on me.” Harry just stared at Riddle, not knowing what to say. “I’ve never felt much attraction to the opposite sex, either,” he continues with a roguish grin. “Oh, I had women when I was younger, but they left me cold. The fire in your veins when you kissed that blubbering Chang girl was quite a shock to me, I can tell you. Shame you picked such a wet blanket, but still. What I’m saying is that for the first time in my life I began to understand concepts that were previously alien to me: friendship, comfort, happiness, even desire and love. I’m envious about what you will experience the first time you lay with a woman, Harry. I felt empty and slightly disgusted after my first coupling. You, I suspect, will have a very different time of it, and that’s something I want to experience, too.” “What exactly are you suggesting here?” Harry asked warily. “I don’t get what you’re proposing.” “What I’m proposing, Harry, is that you let our souls merge,” Riddle said simply. “Merge?” Harry gasped. “Your soul and mine? Are you insane?” “No, I assure you I’m not,” he replied firmly. “I’ve given this much thought and I’m certain this is the only way that both of us will survive. Think for a second. With me residing in your head, you are a Horcrux. Lord Voldemort cannot be killed unless I’m removed and, as it stands, that can’t happen without you dying. Likewise, if Voldemort kills you then I’ll be damned for all eternity.” “This is a trick, isn’t it?” Harry growled. “Voldemort couldn’t possess me at the Ministry so you’re trying to get me to willingly let you into my head. No way, you arsehole! You’re pure evil, and there’s no way in hell I’ll ever agree to anything you say.” “Harry, I am a tiny splinter of Voldemort’s soul. If he couldn’t possess you, then I have no chance at all,” Riddle reasoned. “Your soul is whole, pure, and extremely powerful, while I’m just a fragment. If I merge with you, I will be absorbed wholly and very little of what I am now will remain.” “Well, isn’t that just like being killed? Why would you want to do that?” Harry demanded. “Because I would avoid the most terrible fate imaginable and would still live on in you, even if I would only be the tiniest part of your consciousness,” Riddle reasoned. “Besides, I think this would be a good thing for you. Whilst the change would only be minor, I think you need a little darkness in your soul.” “How do you reckon that?” Harry asked, feeling more and more confused. “Look back on the last year you’ve had,” Riddle pointed out. “Look at where your overwhelming nobility and sense of honor has got you. If you’d have embraced your more Slytherin side, Harry, I expect Dolores Umbridge would be in Azkaban, the prophecy would have been retrieved without risk to you or your friends, and your godfather would still be alive.” Riddle’s words hit Harry like a slap in the face. As painful as they were, however, he couldn’t deny them. “I’ll even sweeten the deal,” Riddle offered. “I said that Voldemort made multiple Horcruxes, and I can tell you what they are and where to find them. You’ll have the chance to destroy them before the Dark Lord even knows they’re gone. Think, Harry, I’m offering you the chance to defeat him, once and for all!” “What would I have to do to merge our souls, exactly?” Harry asked warily. “Hardly anything, I’d do all the work. You’d simply need to be willing to accept the merging,” Riddle told him. Harry sat and thought. He hadn’t been surprised that part of Voldemort was inside him, not really. Now he considered it, it made a lot of sense. But to willingly allow his soul to merge with part of Voldemort’s… it was ludicrous! On the other hand, what would happen if he didn’t? He’d have to die for there even to be a chance of Voldemort being defeated, and that would be assuming they could find all the other Horcruxes, too. The prophecy stated that he was the one that could vanquish Voldemort, so what chance did they have if he had to die to even make it possible to defeat the Dark Lord in the first place? Riddle was offering a solution to that puzzle and to hand him the locations of the Horcruxes on a plate. The only question was did he trust Riddle? But even if he didn’t, what would he do otherwise? It looked like he had no choice, either way. “Okay,” Harry agreed in a defeated voice, “You’ve got yourself a deal.” “Excellent; a wise choice, Harry,” Riddle beamed. “Now pay attention, I’m going to list the location of each of the Horcruxes and detail the protections built around them. As soon as you wake up, I want you to write this information down as it’s too important to leave to chance. If I’m right, you will probably have no access to my memories once we merge, so this might be your one chance to do this.” “So, I won’t instantly know all the stuff that you know, then?” Harry frowned. “Possibly, but I don’t believe it will work like that. My soul will be absorbed and cease to exist in its present form. While my darkness might have a very minor change on your attitude and morals, my consciousness will be scattered amongst yours,” Riddle explained. “Shame, knowing a load of incredibly powerful spells would have been useful,” Harry said ruefully. “Which raises a good point,” Riddle acknowledged. “You will need to speak to Dumbledore as soon as possible. You’ll need to make him aware that the Horcrux inside you has been dealt with, and there is no longer any need for you to sacrifice yourself. Assuming the old fool understands the implications of this, he should realize the rules of the game will have changed completely.” “How so?” Harry asked. “Dumbledore assumed that ‘the power he knows not’ mentioned in the prophecy would be your willingness to sacrifice yourself for your friends and for the good of the world. As there is no longer any pressing need to follow that path, he should comprehend that means you will need to defeat Voldemort by more conventional means. In short, he needs to start training you properly, Harry,” Riddle stated flatly. “But what good will that do?” Harry demanded. “I saw that duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort in the Ministry. I could never do things like that in a million years!” “Nonsense,” Riddle snapped. “The power is within you, I can feel it. You have as much magical potential as either Voldemort or Dumbledore; it’s just a matter of education and training. Which brings me to my next point: it’s time to start applying yourself fully. When you put all your effort into something, the results are normally spectacular. Look at what you’ve achieved in your Defense Against the Dark Arts training, or your record at Quidditch. Third year students aren’t meant to be able to cast a Patronus Charm, you know, but you did it anyway. This is what Hermione has been trying to tell you for years. If you just apply yourself fully to your studies you could be an exceptional wizard, Harry! You just need to grow up and start taking your education seriously.” “I guess I haven’t always tried my hardest,” Harry admitted sadly. “Indeed, and I do understand that the Dursleys ingrained that attitude into you, but you serious think you should do what they want? Of course not. You need to get your head together and start working hard. Don’t let your friend Ron distract you, either. He’s just afraid that he won’t live up to his more studious brothers. In truth, if he applied himself he could be just as good as Bill or Percy. He just needs the confidence to try. Hopefully, once he sees your example, he’ll knuckle down, too,” Riddle advised. “Yeah, that does make sense,” Harry admitted thoughtfully. “Of course it does and, trust me, you’ll need your friends in the coming months. Even immensely powerful wizards such as Dumbledore and Voldemort surround themselves with like-minded people. You have a core of willing supporters formed already; use them! You don’t have to do everything yourself, and this is their fight as much as it is yours,” Riddle told him passionately. “Okay, this is all good advice,” Harry admitted with a sigh. “I promise I’ll do what you suggest.” “Excellent, although I do have one more request of you, and one of a more personal nature,” Riddle said, smiling mysteriously. “Please, as I’ll soon be part of you, forget all about that drippy Chang girl. It turned my stomach to see you pining after that weak-willed, blubbering fool.” Harry could only grin. “Don’t worry,” Harry assured him. “I’m not interested in her anymore.” “Good,” Riddle nodded in approval, before grinning slyly. “You do realize any of the three girls that accompanied you to the Ministry would make a far better match for you, don’t you?” “Err… really?” Harry said hesitantly. “Indeed, and if I’m to be part of you when you start a relationship in earnest, I would much rather you direct your passions at Hermione, Luna or Ginny, rather than Cho Chang.” “Okay, I’ll think about it,” Harry promised reluctantly. “Good man,” Riddle said approvingly. “Now, I want you to listen carefully, as I’m about to tell you all I know regarding the Horcruxes. Pay attention.” Harry listened intently as Riddle began to detail the hiding places of the remaining Horcruxes… HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP HPHPHP Harry awoke with a start. For a moment, he was completely confused as to where he was, but seeing the light streaming through the small widow beside him made him comprehend he was still at Privet Drive. Slowly, he pulled the covers off of himself and swung out of bed. He stood and looked out the window. The weather outside was grey and rather overcast, depressingly so for June, but to Harry, it seemed to be the most remarkable day he’d ever experienced in his life. There was something exhilarating and fresh in the air, and it made his heart soar. Suddenly, the memory of his ethereal encounter of the previous night came back to him, and he turned and hurried over to his battered wardrobe onto which a cracked mirror was mounted. He peered at his reflection, and was oddly surprised that he looked no different to what he remembered. He certainly felt different. Then, carefully, he lifted the fringe of his hair. It was practically gone! The ugly, red scar that had marked him all his life was now just a pale, zig-zag line on his forehead. He suddenly realized that the nearly ever-present pain that afflicted him was absent. It felt wonderful. Harry went and sat down heavily on the end of his bed. It was all true. He now had a small piece of Voldemort’s soul mixed with his own. Moreover, he was no longer a Horcrux and the connection he had with his hated foe was gone. He was truly his own person again. That said, he could feel he wasn’t the same person as he’d been before. He couldn’t begin to explain what had changed, but he definitely felt different. A blur of movement caught his eye and he looked around to see Hedwig fly in through the open window. No doubt she had been out hunting and had returned with the early morning light. Harry stood and hurried over to her. “Hiya, girl. Did you have a good night?” he asked the bird affectionately while stroking her head in a way he knew she enjoyed. Hedwig made a contented warbling sound and closed her eyes in apparent bliss at her owner’s touch. Harry smiled broadly, happy to have his faithful feathered friend back. “Something really important happened while you were out,” Harry told the bird. “I think my life has just changed completely.” Hedwig said nothing, but opened her golden eyes and regarded him calmly. “Things are going to change now,” he continued in a determined voice. “I have to get my arse in gear and start taking things seriously.” The owl tilted her head as she watched him. “I’m going to start working hard, and become the wizard I need to be to defeat Voldemort,” Harry said resolutely. “I’ve got to stop being a child and learn to become a man. I’ll listen to my friends and take advice from my betters, but I’ll also start taking responsibility for my actions. Hopefully, that will mean engaging my brain before acting.” Hedwig made a soft barking noise, like she was chuckling in amusement. Harry smiled. “Laugh if you will, Hedwig, but I think that’s been my biggest weakness up to this point. I need to start thinking and use whatever intelligence that I have. I can’t always rely on Hermione to do my thinking for me, eh?” A gentle hoot suggested Hedwig was in agreement with Harry’s plan. Giving her one last loving stroke on her head, Harry walked over to the scratched and dilapidated desk that was crammed into the corner of the room, and began to hunt for some paper and a pen. Once he had found what he was looking for, he began to furiously scribble. Ten minutes later, he held up the sheet of paper and admired his work. “Got you, Voldemort, you bastard,” he muttered under his breath. Carefully, he put the sheet of paper listing all of the Dark Lord’s Horcruxes and their locations back down on the desk. In a little while, he would copy the information out again several times, just to be on the safe side. He would also need to send a message to Dumbledore, asking him to visit as soon as possible. Smiling to himself, Harry leaned back and gazed around the small room. His smile faltered as he took in the state of the place. Books and empty crisp packets littered the floor, as did random items of dirty clothing. His trunk lay, unopened, at the end of his bed and several letters from his friends were tucked, untouched, on top of it. The place was, in short, a mess. Much like his life, Harry speculated. Time to change things, he decided. The loss of Sirius was still like a sharp pain in his chest, but his grief wasn’t as debilitating now as it had been. The best way to honour his godfather, Harry decided, was to send that snake-faced bastard and his bootlicking followers to hell. Too many good people had died already, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure no one else suffered that fate. It was time to grow up. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP After washing and dressing, Harry made his way downstairs in search of some breakfast. First on the list of changes that he had to implement was starting to take care of himself better. That meant eating right and perhaps starting to take a little exercise. Once he entered the kitchen he found that he had risen early enough that Uncle Vernon was still in the house. He was sat at the kitchen table, his folded newspaper in one hand and a half-eaten piece of toast in the other. Aunt Petunia stood at the sink, apparently trying to scrub the pattern off a plate she was washing, such was the vigour she put into the task. Harry stood in the doorway, watching them speculatively. Vernon happened to glace up and noticed Harry for the first time. He glared at him with ill-disguised contempt. “Finally gotten out of bed have you, you lazy good-for-nothing?” he growled. Petunia looked around and eyed him like he was a piece of dirt. “Well, if you’re up and about I have a list of chores for you to do. If you’re staying in this house this summer you can earn your keep, no matter what your freakish friends think.” Harry just stared at them like he’d never seen them before. He remembered the contempt and hatred Tom had expressed for them, and Harry could see his point. The fact that he was hurting so badly was irrelevant to them. To the Dursleys, he was just an inconvenience; a hindrance that was forced upon them and that threatened to wreck their perfect, orderly lives. For a second, the sheer banality of their life-style made his stomach turn. He looked Vernon squarely in the eyes, intending to demonstrate that he would no longer be intimidated by him. As he did so, however, he realized that he saw something else there, something he’d never noticed before. Fear. Harry quickly tore his eyes away from his uncle and shifted his gaze to Petunia. It was even more palpable with her; she was terrified of him. For a second, Harry took a moment to process this information. What were they so afraid of? They knew he couldn’t use magic without risking being expelled from Hogwarts. Perhaps it was just that he represented a threat to their good standing in the neighbourhood? After all, nothing mattered more to a pair of small-minded, middle-class idiots like them more than their social status. Instantly, he dismissed that thought. There was more to it than that. It was genuine fear he saw in their eyes, fear he now realized had been there for years, but he’d never recognized it for what it was. They were terrified of him and his magic, that was clear. Maybe Petunia was scared that she and Vernon would share her sister’s fate if she were exposed to magic too long? Perhaps it was simply a fear of things that they didn’t understand and would never hope to control themselves? Either way, it meant that he wasn’t going to take any shit off them any longer. “I just came down to get some breakfast,” Harry said in a firm voice. “Breakfast is over,” she replied in a harsh voice. “If you can’t be bothered…” “What do you think will happen when I turn seventeen?” Harry asked suddenly, cutting off her expect tirade. “Seventeen? What has that to do with anything?” Vernon demanded, his face beginning to turn red. “It’s when wizards like me come of age,” Harry explained. “I suspect that it’s a year earlier than you Muggles do because of the greater responsibility placed on our shoulders.” “Responsibility?” Vernon snorted. “You don’t know the meaning of the word, boy!” Harry reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wand, noting the look of apprehension that came onto his relatives faces at the sight of it. “See my wand here? With this, I can perform acts of magic that would make most regular people think I was the second coming. I can Levitate items into the air, Transfigure them into something completely different, or even Banish them forever, and those are just some of the more basic spells. There are wizards out there who can kill with a wave of their wands, or bend the will of others to them so completely that a person would just become a puppet to them. Witches and wizards can fly on enchanted objects, breath underwater, even go back in time for short periods. Knowing that I have access to powers like that, do you still think that I’m not responsible? Be grateful that I am, too. Have I ever raised my wand against you, even once? I have I ever asked any of my friends to do so? No, for some strange reason I still think of you as my family, despite you two doing everything in your power to make believe that it isn’t so.” “If you think we’re impressed by a few parlour tricks…” Vernon began. “Oh, grow up, Uncle Vernon!” Harry spat. “You’ve seen what magic can do. Well, let me tell you that you’ve only seen the tiniest part of what an average wizard is capable of. You remember Dudley getting that pig tail a few years ago? I could turn you both into pigs completely if I wanted, and sell you to the local butcher if I had half a mind. Or maybe change you into twigs and throw you onto a bonfire.” “HOW DARE YOU THREATEN US!” Vernon bellowed, climbing to his feet. “Do you really think I’m afraid of you, Uncle?” he asked contemptuously. “Oh, I might risk expulsion from Hogwarts if I did use magic on you, but I’m sure I could convince the Ministry that it was in self-defence. After all, they didn’t do anything to me after I blew up Marge like a balloon, did they?” Vernon hesitated. “But luckily for you, I don’t have any desire to do anything to you. Like I said, you’re the only family I’ve got left. I also appreciate that you probably weren’t given a lot of choice other than to take me in, and you have at least given me a roof over my head, no matter how grudgingly. However, I suspect things are going to change soon and I might not be here much longer. This is what I’m proposing: just leave me alone to study my books and I’ll stay out of your way, too. Let me eat regular meals with you and I’ll see to it that you’re financially compensated when I do leave, not just for this summer, but all the time I’ve been here.” “And how would you do that?” Petunia demanded. “Do you have money you haven’t told us about?” “Despite you telling me that my parents were drunken layabouts, we both know that’s not true, don’t we, Petunia? You know my father was well off, and you must have realized I would be named in their will, surely?” “Then why didn’t my good-for-nothing sister leave anything to me, then?” Petunia demanded. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you seemed to hate her so much?” Harry asked sarcastically. “Anyway, everything I’ve been left is in wizard currency. It’s totally useless to you, unless I arrange for it to be converted into Muggle money. So, what do you say? All I’m asking for is a bit of peace and quiet, three meals a day and just to be treated without contempt. In exchange, I promise to be out of your hair as soon as possible and I’ll make sure you receive compensation for all the time I’ve spent here.” “Where would you go?” Petunia asked suspiciously. “That mad Headmaster of yours said that you had to remain here for our protection, as well as yours.” “Protection that will be invalidated as soon as I hit seventeen, anyway,” Harry shrugged. “Where I do go is of no concern to you, but I will say that if things go right the need for protection will be removed, anyway.” Harry watched as Petunia and Vernon looked at each questioningly. Somehow, he knew he’d won. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP Harry stared at the broken shard of mirror mournfully. Once his aunt and uncle had agreed to his proposal, he’d enjoyed a frugal breakfast of fried egg on toast which, nevertheless, had seemed like a feast after the meagre fare he’d been enjoying up to that point. Afterwards, he’d resolved to get down to work. First order of the day was to clean out his bedroom into something other than a pigsty. It had been when he begun to empty out his trunk that he came over this piece of mirror. Closing his eyes, he let his fingers caress the smooth surface. A sharp prick in his thumb made him realize that he’d caught the ragged edge. He looked down and saw a globule of bright, red blood slowly dripping down the silvery surface. He welcomed the stinging pain as a reminder of his stupidity in not remembering the mirror in the first place. Instead, he’d blindly charged off to the Ministry and gotten Sirius killed. Ah, but you didn’t blindly rush off, did you? A voice seemed to say in his head. You tried to contact Sirius via the Floo first. It wasn’t your fault that blasted elf lied. Harry blinked. It was true, he did try and verify where Sirius was, even if it had been at Hermione’s urging. Even so, the mirror would have been a much better means of establishing that information. Assuming Sirius even had the mirror on his person, that is. It’s not like you used the wretched thing much before, was it? Try as he might, Harry found he couldn’t refute this. Since Sirius gave him the mirror, he hadn’t used it once, although that was mainly due to the risk of being overheard. It was hardly surprising that he’d forgotten he even had it, what with everything else going on. Even so, the pain of Sirius’s death still ate away at him. He gently put the shard of mirror down, and went over to his window and looked out. It was still only mid-morning and the sun seemed strangely reluctant to appear from behind the cover of the thick, grey clouds that hung in the sky. Something bad was happening out there, Harry knew, and war was coming. Oddly, that thought almost seemed comforting to him. Voldemort had now shown himself and battle would soon be joined. That damnable prophecy had stated that he was the one who had to finish off the evil bastard, and at that exact moment he welcomed that idea. He had a major score to settle with the Dark Lord. Another thought then occurred to him: had his parents known about the prophecy? Certainly, the fact that his mother had prepared so well in advance seemed to suggest that they had. That kind of ancient magic wasn’t something you did on the spur of the moment. Did that mean that James and Lily Potter knew what he was tasked with in the future? Had their sacrifice been not only to save the life of their only son, but to save the country from the ravages of Voldemort? Sirius, too, may well have known what rested on Harry’s shoulders. The thought was both comforting and utterly terrifying. He felt somewhat relieved to think that they hadn’t given their lives solely for him, because he didn’t think he was worth it. On the other hand, it conferred a terrible responsibility on him. One that up to this point he felt he hadn’t done a very good job in living up to. He had to do better. Clenching his fists in determination, he returned to his open trunk and began to retrieve his school books. Carefully, he picked up ‘Quintessence: A Quest’ and began to leaf through its pages. He was surprised to find that he remembered much of its contents. Feeling encouraged, he decided to make a start on his summer homework and Charms seemed as good a place to start as anywhere. He found some clean parchment and his quill, and sat himself down at his small, wonky desk to begin work. Perhaps it was his new sense of resolve, but he soon found himself totally absorbed by his task. Very soon, he found himself leaping up out of his chair to find other books to cross-reference his work, and sheet after sheet of crisp parchment was soon filled with his rather spidery handwriting. While he’d always enjoyed Charms, and Professor Flitwick was undoubtedly one of his favourite teachers, Harry had never considered himself anything other than average in the subject. Hermione had always been the real expert, and he fully expected her to write her own book on it one day. It was with some confidence, however, Harry felt that this was one assignment that he’d be giving his friend a run for her money. It was nearly two hours later when he finally put down his quill and began to try and massage some feeling back into his numb fingers. With a grin he picked up no less than five completed sheets of parchment and looked at them with pride. If this didn’t get him an ‘Outstanding’ he’d eat his hat. Deciding not to get cocky, he began to read through the assignment again, checking for errors. He was about halfway through when a phrase he’d written caught his eye. ‘…in most cases. Alternatively, an Anti-Summoning Charm can be put in place to prevent the Summoning of objects. This charm can be made semi-permanent by placing runes on the object, notably the Laguz and Algiz runes, and then infusing them with the basic Repelling Charm to instill…’ A cold, sinking feeling began to form in the pit of his stomach. He’d never studied Ancient Runes in his life, so how did he suddenly know the exact two runes that would be required to protect an object against Summoning? With a feeling of mounting dread, it suddenly occurred to him that earlier that morning he hadn’t only suspected what his aunt and uncle had been thinking, he’d actually known. Somehow, he’d looked into their eyes and read their thoughts. Where had this new ability come from? Why did he suddenly know so much about subjects he’d never studied? How come he was now so full of purpose and drive? He’d realized that he had to knuckle down and do better, but equally he’d known that it would take time and dedication to achieve his goals. Unless… Unless Tom had lied about how much of him would remain after he was absorbed into Harry’s soul. He stood abruptly and knocked his chair over. With trembling legs, he pushed himself away from the desk and barely managed to flop onto his bed before they gave out completely. With a cold sweat forming on his brow, Harry stared unseeingly at the ceiling. Panic was mounting inside him and it was all he could do to keep himself from crying out in despair. He’d just permitted the most wicked Dark Lord of modern times to merge with his soul, willingly. The question was: how much of Tom Riddle was still there? Unable to comprehend exactly what he’d just done to himself, Harry mercifully slid into unconsciousness. Millions of miles away, in the constellation of Cassiopeia, a star briefly flared and then blinked out of existence. |
| Reviews 369 |
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