A/N: I seem to not be getting many reviews. Please review, I need them to keep me inspired.
Martial Arts
*****
When Harry woke up, he was in a large room. In the middle of the room was a stone dais, raised up above the ground. On top of the dais were two people dueling, dodging and ducking spells blasted from each other. Sirius Black and Bellatrix Lestrange.
Sirius was too busy taunting Bellatrix, and didn't catch it when she said two spells in rapid succession. Sirius dodged the first one, but was hit by the second one. He flew off the dais, the taunting face slowly turning to one of shock. His body formed a graceful arc as he fell through the veil that was hanging beneath the archway, never to return.
"Sirius!" Harry called, dashing towards the veil. He could reach him, just a little bit farther and he would reach the veil. Then he could just go through and pull Sirius out.
When Harry arrived at the veil, the first thing he did was touch it. It didn't hurt. So then he slowly pushed his left hand, followed by his forearm, and then the rest of his arm. When his shoulder brushed against the veil, his entire arm suddenly ignited in pain. His first instinct was to pull it out, but he couldn't. He tried and tried with all his might, but it wouldn't come free.
"AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!" He finally pulled away from the veil, but when he looked down at his arm, it wasn't there. It had been burned off.
Laughter could be heard: high-pitched, cold, laughter. It froze Harry's blood, and it seemed as if his heart stopped bleeding.
"Welcome Harry," Harry slowly turned around, and saw the very man that had ruined his life. Voldemort.
The room changed, and Harry looked at his surroundings, only to find that he was in some sort of torture chamber. What he saw next made him freeze. There were people bound to the wall. Everyone Harry ever loved or cared about was there: the Weasleys, his parents, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, his Head of House, …Hermione.
No, this can't be happening, he thought, this isn't real. It isn't real…it isn't real…it isn't real. He was broken away from his thoughts when he heard someone speak.
"It is very real, Harry. Now watch, the show is about to begin," Voldemort grinned, and Harry felt sick.
All at once, many men in black cloaks appeared in the room. At Voldemort's command, they all raised their wands, took aim at the people in shackles, and muttered the same word in unison, "Crucio!"
The screams. Oh, the screams were unbearable. Harry fell to his knees, his eyes never leaving the people most important in his life. He watched as they all convulsed in agony, screaming.
A green light flashed, and the screams suddenly stopped.
"NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOO!!!" Harry roared.
Cold laughter could be heard, chilling the very bone.
*****
"NNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!" Harry woke up, screaming and jerking around on his bed. His scar was burning like someone was cutting it open with a white-hot knife.
"DAMN IT BOY!!" Uncle Vernon bellowed. Harry didn't hear the door bang open, and didn't feel the belt that was now drawing blood from his back. His vision was blurry, with black spots everywhere, and his hearing was obscured. He could taste bile, and the metallic taste of blood.
His seizures started to subside, and his hearing and vision returned to normal. Uncle Vernon gave him a few good kicks, and then left, slamming the door.
*****
Harry just sat on his bed, staring at the wall. He was lost in his thoughts. His thoughts were a prison for his own mind. No matter how hard he tried to push them away, the memories from the Department of Mysteries always popped up. Every second was filled with images of Sirius falling through a veil. But then a new memory popped up, one from the dream he had had. He remembered it so vividly, the screams, their faces, everything. He shuddered at the very graphic memory.
*****
Harry was walking down a street in Little Winging, looking at the various shops. His aunt had persuaded his uncle to let him come down here. He had no idea how she had done it. She probably told him that the Order members would check up on him if they never saw him, or something. As he was walking around, he spotted a martial arts dojo. Interesting, maybe I'll go check it out.
He entered the dojo, surprised to find no one there. There were many pictures on the wall, of a tall, muscular, brown haired man performing martial arts. There were also many trophies lining the walls of the dojo.
A sudden noise startled him. Spinning around, he came face to face with the man in the pictures.
"Can I help you?" the man asked politely.
"Umm…yeah, I guess. I was just looking around and I thought it would be nice to study martial arts," Harry answered.
The man smiled, "Good, good. I am Master Myers. Let me show you around."
Harry followed Mr. Myers, asking him questions. "Can I study here?"
"First, I must test you, to see what we have to work on. Please follow me," He led Harry onto the mats, and leading him to a standing punching bag shaped like a person's torso. He demonstrated some moves, and told Harry to perform them on the punching bag.
Harry felt powerful as he punched and kicked the bag. Just wait `till I use this on Voldemort, and Bellatrix. At the thought of her, something snapped inside him. The next punch he threw made the bag take flight and crash against the opposite wall.
"Oops! Sorry!" Harry apologized, but Mr. Myers was happy.
"It looks like I am going to have to train you privately," He answered with a smile on his face. And then Harry's training began.
*****
When Harry returned, he was not greeted kindly. Uncle Vernon began shouting and threw Harry onto the ground. "BOY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING, COMING BACK SO LATE?"
He picked Harry up, and then dragged him upstairs, throwing him into his room. He gave Harry his usual beating, and then left.
*****
For the next few days, Harry was able to sneak out and go to the dojo to train. He was learning very quickly, as his master constantly told him. He was already a purple belt.
*****
But Harry became darker in the process. He felt as if something was eating his very soul. For some reason, he was constantly in a sort of pain, and the only emotions he ever felt were anger and hatred. He was beginning to forget what happiness and joy were. His eyes began to lose the liveliness they once had. The memories and nightmares were taking their toll on the boy-who-lived.
Harry's master began to notice too. Harry would come in, always with more cuts and bruises on him then the previous day. His eyes were blank, showing no emotion. He would do as he was told, and would not complain about anything. There was a dark aura creeping around Harry Potter, and Master Myers could feel it.
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