Harry Potter and the Immortal's Curse

The Dark Sorceror

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 21/09/2004
Last Updated: 20/10/2004
Status: paused

I HAVE ADDED TO AND EDITED ALL THE CHAPTERS TO MAKE THEM BETTER. SOME OF THEM ARE DIFFERENT SO YOU MAY WANT TO REREAD THE STORY. Sixth year fic. Harry returns to the Dursleys to find himself in some trouble. Shadows torment his soul every day, until he gets a choice. Standing the pain of the Immortal's Curse, Harry discovers his true powers. He must learn to control them and use them for good, or he might just destroy the very thing he is trying to save... Please read and review!

Chapters

1. PAIN BEYOND RECKONING

2. DREAMS ABOUT VOLDEMORT

3. MARTIAL ARTS

4. CONVERSATIONS AND INVITATIONS

5. CLASH OF THE TITANS

6. WHAT IS HELL

7. DREKES

1. PAIN BEYOND RECKONING

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not Harry Potter, not Pirates of the Caribbean, not Japanese anime, nothing. They are property of their rightful owners. I do not make money off of this. I also do not own Master Myers, as that is the name of one of my Tae kwon do instructors. He's cool, so I decided to put him in here.

A/N: Again I'm trying to make a story, since two of my other ones were pretty bad. I think this storyline is good though, so hopefully it will turn out well.

Pain Beyond Reckoning

*****

The Dursleys were not at all happy with Harry Potter.

“BOY! HOW DARE YOUR-YOUR-FREAKY FRIENDS THREATEN US!” roared a very unhappy Uncle Vernon, as they entered their home.

“It's about time that they-“ Harry was cut off by a punch to his stomach. He keeled over on to the floor when a second punch was delivered.

“What was that for?!” Harry roared.

Vernon didn't answer, but picked him up by the scruff of the neck. He hauled Harry up the stairs, and threw him into his room, locking the many locks on the door.

“You better get your rest, tomorrow will be worse!” Uncle Vernon bellowed from the other side of the door.

Great, Harry thought, another perfect summer at the Dursleys.

Harry Potter was not normal. He was fairly tall, with jet-black hair and black wire-rimmed glasses. Hidden behind his glasses were brilliant, emerald-green eyes. But, the most bizarre thing about Harry Potter was a thin, lightning-bolt shaped scar upon his forehead. It was this scar that sealed Harry's destiny. For Harry Potter was a wizard, and a very powerful one at that. It was prophesized that Harry would defeat the most powerful Dark Wizard every to walk the earth: Lord Voldemort.

The words to the prophecy were forever etched in Harry's brain.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…

This was Harry's fate, and there was no other way. He either had to murder the Dark Lord, or be murdered by him.

The prophecy was not the only thing on his mind. Harry had just recently lost his godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius had been killed by his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. An intense wave of anger swept over him as he thought of that name, and he promised that he would get his revenge.

Harry could still remember vividly his godfather's death. He could remember how Sirius and Bellatrix had been dueling, and Sirius taunting. He remembered how Sirius had not seen the jet of light hit him. Harry could remember the way his face was set in surprise as he fell through the black, ragged veil…

Harry tried his hardest, but couldn't get those two things out of his mind. Trying to focus on something else just made the memories came back, even more intense. He stripped down to his boxers, and got into his bed, trying to think of anything other than Sirius and the Prophecy. He laid his head down on his pillow, and closed his eyes. He felt sleep creep up on him, and drifted off…

*****

Sirius was dueling atop a platform, dodging spells and shouting taunts. Sirius was then hit with a jet of light, and fell off the platform, a surprised look on his face. Harry watched as he fell through the veil, never to return again.

The veil disapperead, and Harry was standing in a bare, open room. It was very dark, and the only light that could be seen was from a candle in the center of the room. Harry stepped over to it, and looked at it. The candle was hovering in midair, and Harry wondered what it was doing there. He waved his hand over it, and the flame from the candle jumped into his outstretched hand. Harry stumbled back in shock, and closed his hand. The flame reappeared in the candle, giving off its eerie glow.

“What the hell?” Harry thought out loud.

“You have great potential Harry Potter.” A voice said from behind him. Harry whipped around, and came face-to-face with an old wizard.

“Who are you?” Harry asked, examining the wizard.

“I am no one to be trifled with, and that is all you need to know.” He answered simply, conjuring up a chair and sitting in it.

“Oh. What do you want with me?”

“I am here to help you Harry Potter. I know of your destiny, and have come to give you what you need to defeat Voldemort.” The old wizard replied, clasping his fingers.

“What are you going to give me?”

“This.” The wizard grabbed a goblet, and gave it to Harry. Harry took it reluctantly, and examined the liquid. It was black, and sent off a black aura.

“What is it?” Harry asked, eyeing the liquid nervously.

“It is a liquid that brings out a person's true capability. This is the only amount that ever existed, and many wizards have spent their entire lives searching for it,” Harry was about to take a drink, when the wizard spoke again. “Be warned, this will make you very powerful, but it will be very painful. You will be cursed from the moment you drink it.”

“My purpose is to destroy Voldemort, and if I have to sacrifice my life to save the people I love than I will. Cheers.” He raised the goblet to his lips, and felt the liquid slide down his throat. It burned like hell, making him feel like he swallowed fire. When it reached his stomach, he shrieked. The pain was unbearable! He felt as if his stomach exploded, and was on the ground writhing with pain, blood pouring out of his mouth, eyes, and ears. His lungs were on fire, and his heart was beating extremely fast. His limbs felt as if they had been dismembered, and his head felt as if it had spontaneously combusted. The Cruciatus Curse was nothing compared to this. The only thing that could be heard above his screams was the cruel, maniacal laughter of the old wizard.

*****

Harry was awoken by a sharp pain across his face. He felt terrible, as if he had been burned alive. He was still screaming, and someone tied a piece of clothe around his mouth, trying to muffle the screams.

“BOY! WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO, WAKE THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD?! SHUT UP!!” Vernon Dursley roared, hitting Harry across the head with a meaty fist. Upon impact, Harry saw darkness creeping up on him and blacked out.

*****

A/N: Hopefully this is pretty good. I think I actually did pretty well. Please review, they let me know if people like the story or hate it. Criticism is welcome, since it will help me improve my writing.

Thanks,

The Dark Sorceror

-->

2. DREAMS ABOUT VOLDEMORT

Dreams About Voldemort

*****

When Harry awoke he had no memory of what had occurred. His body was strongly aching, and there were black spots in front of his eyes. There was something sticky covering his face, but he could not summon enough energy to investigate it. After trying relentlessly to move, he closed his eyes, and fell back asleep.

*****

Harry awoke to a cold, refreshing rag on his forehead. He groped around for his glasses, before someone handed them to him. His blurred vision came into focus, and he could see his Aunt Petunia giving an almost maternal-like smile. He weakly smiled back, surprised to find his Aunt actually caring for him.

“You've been out for a while.” She said gently.

“How long?” He asked.

“About two days,” she replied, “you had a very high fever.”

“Thanks,” he croaked, “for taking care of me.”

“It's no problem Harry, I feel I need to repay you for all those years of torture I put you through…” She trailed off.

For some reason, Harry felt that his Aunt was really his mother's sister. He now knew that she did actually care for him, but why did she hate him for so many years?

He pushed that question out of his mind as he tried to stand up. Pain immediately jolted through him, and he would have fallen, had his aunt not had a strong grip on him. She helped him over to his bed, and he collapsed onto it, already tired from the exertion it took for him to walk.

“I'll be downstairs, if you need me come get me, but don't let Vernon find out.” She stressed the last part, and then turned out the door.

Harry tried to fall asleep, but as soon as he closed his eyes, visions came that tormented him. He saw Neville being placed under the Cruciatus Curse, Ron being attacked by a tentacled brain, Ginny with her broken ankle, Hermione…getting hit by the purple curse, and finally, Sirius, dueling with his cousin. He saw in his mind's eye, the duel: the duel that had ended Sirius' life. He watched as Sirius taunted his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, and dodged her curses. Sirius did not see the curse that she uttered right after one that he dodged, and it hit him straight in the edge. Sirius then fell, with the laughter and joy still not gone from his face, and went behind the veil.

Harry tried as hard as he could not to cry, but tears made their way down his cheek. Sirius, why did I have to believe the image, he thought, why couldn't I realize it was fake, I should have known it was fake. Deep down, Harry knew it was his fault, and the guilt was not letting him go. It was dragging him down; down into the pain of knowing that he'd been the main cause of Sirius' death. It was his fault that he was there, his fault that Sirius had to battle Bellatrix, his fault that Sirius had fallen behind that accursed veil.

What would his friends think of him? He was a murderer, after all. He had killed Sirius. Who would want a murderer as a friend? Nobody, that's who. Never again would they great him with kindness. They would treat him like the foul being that he was. A murderer: a piece of trash.

Closing his eyes to try to make their accusing faces disappear, he found them to return only with more force. He could hear their shouts of “Harry! Why? Don't you care about us? Why did you lead us into danger? YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN IT WAS A TRAP!”

Knowing he wouldn't be getting to sleep anytime soon, he sat up, albeit with extreme difficulty, and looked around for something to do. His trunk was open on the floor, filled with still unpacked clothes and books and magical objects. Spotting a book that looked to be of interest, he got out of bed, made his way to the trunk, and picked it up. It was entitled Spells and Curses Useful Against the Dark Arts. Strange, thought Harry, I don't remember ever buying this book.

He lie back down in his bed, and flipped through the book to the first page. The book began to turn pages at its own accord. It stopped when it reached the first page again. The pages were made of what looked to be extremely old parchment. Harry closed the book, and looked at the cover, and nearly dropped the book in surprise. Mastering the Dark Arts was glaring up at him in large, blood red letters.

The book seemed to control Harry's eyes. When it turned back to the first page, Harry's eyes began moving, soaking in all the knowledge the book contained. He could not move away from it, he had to know what the book said! The book was controlling him, enveloping him in its power.

But then it stopped, and the book returned to its normal state. Harry was feeling extremely tired, like after one of Snape's Occlumency lessons. This time, he was able to sleep.

*****

Harry was standing in the middle of an amphitheater shaped room, on a raised platform. Right before his eyes was his godfather, Sirius Black, dueling his cousin. Harry watched again as Sirius was hit by the jet of light that sent him falling through the archway, through the veil, and to his death.

Maybe, Harry thought, maybe I can go behind the veil and reach him. He ran towards the veil, and stretched out his hand. Only a little bit closer… Just as his hand was about to touch the veil, someone caught it. Harry whirled around to see Bellatrix Lestrange face-to-face. Immediately, Harry felt a huge swell of anger. It consumed him, from head to toe, filling him with so much hatred. He felt so…powerful.

Bellatrix cackled: a loud, annoying, and taunting laugh that put Harry's nerves on end. How he hated that sound.

“Ooo ickle baby Potter. Aren't you going to go save your pathetic godfather?” She taunted him in her annoying baby-like tone.

Harry remembered what she had told them at the Department of Mysteries, about the Unforgivables. “You need to mean them!” Her voice rang in his ears. He felt anger at her, hate at her. He wanted to cause her pain, wanted to relish in the fact that she was suffering. His eyes glinted like a madman. He flung out his wand and said the word that would cause him so much joy. “Crucio!”

Bellatrix dropped onto the ground, writhing and jerking and screaming with pain. But then, she changed. Bellatrix's face vanished, and in its place…was Hermione's. She was screaming in pain, and immediately he dropped his wand, not believing what had happened, what he had just done. He dropped to his knees, and held his head in his hands. He glanced at the Hermione on the floor, and noticed she wasn't moving, she wasn't even breathing. He then went over to her and cradled her head in his hands.

“What have I done? WHAT HAVE I DONE! Hermione, please forgive me!” He spoke desperately. “Please forgive me, it was an accident, please forgive me.”

Then he heard a high-pitched, cruel laugh. He knew that laugh, that laugh was the laugh of the most evil wizard alive. “Voldemort!”

Voldemort appeared in front of him, a huge smile plastered on his face. “You can't win Harry, every time you try to, you end up hurting one of your friends. They will resent you Harry, they will hate you for the things you have done to them.”

“No,” said Harry, “They won't hate me.” Or will they, he thought.

“You should join me Harry, we could be great. I can make you powerful, so very powerful, and all I ask for in return is your loyalty. There is something about you that is so…great in a way. You have survived encounters with me five times, when no one else has. You will be my right hand man, my most powerful of servants, a lord, and so very rich. Join me, and I will give you whatever you want.” Voldemort then reached out with one of his long, spidery fingers and touched Harry's scar.

*****

The pain that came with that one touch was enough to wake Harry up, enough to make him scream. But Harry did not scream. Too great was the pain for him to scream. Instead, his mouth was filled with blood, which was what he was spewing at the moment onto the floor.

After finishing regurgitating his blood, Harry slipped into unconsciousness, and fell onto His blood soaked floor.

*****

A/N: Please R & R, I need to know how I'm doing!

Thanks,

The Dark Sorcerer

-->

3. MARTIAL ARTS

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.

-->

4. CONVERSATIONS AND INVITATIONS

Conversations and Invitations

*****

“I want you to concentrate on this candle. Do not distract your focus from the flame,” Master Myers said as he placed a candle in front of Harry on the floor, “reach out with your inner self, and envelop the candle completely. Feel the heat pouring from the fire. Smell the fumes; hear the almost silent crackling. Completely submerse yourself into the candle, become one with it, control it, command it to do your will.”

Harry did exactly as Master Myers told him. He reached out with his inner self, never tearing his gaze away from the small pinpoint of flame. He could feel the burning sensation, smell the smoke, he felt that he, himself, were the flame. He needed to learn to control it, and that is exactly what he sought to do. Using the strong will of his mind, he commanded the flame to enlarge, and enlarge it did. He commanded the flame to spread, surrounding him in a ring red and yellow. He felt satisfied that he had accomplished this task so easily.

Master Myers watched from the back wall of the dojo, noticing how easily he commanded the flame. He could feel power pulsating from Harry as he became one with the flame. Perfect, he thought, he is an elemental, but he still needs to learn to create the fire, not just control it. But there is something else, there are some other secrets still locked away. He could sense them, burning deep below the surface.

*****

For weeks Harry trained and trained. During his training sessions he was ruthless. He would completely obliterate the entire dojo, and then with a wave of his hand, everything would be fixed. Master Myers had taught him many things, things he was very grateful for. Master Myers confided in him that he was a wizard, one who had left the wizarding world because of reasons he did not want to say.

*****

Martial arts, it seemed, could help one control their magical ability. Harry could now completely control himself, and had learned to block his emotions. He was empty. There was nothing in him except a determination to defeat Voldemort. So greatly did Harry want him to suffer, to feel pain, to die.

*****

Master Myers watched from afar, observing Harry. Harry's aura had become so dark that it seemed like he sucked the very light from the room. He did not know what had happened to Harry, but he was sure it was something horrid.

The days seemed to match with Harry. As time passed they grew darker, blacker, more menacing as intimidating clouds loomed overhead. Occasionally a lightning storm would go off when Harry was angry. Master Myers knew Harry was powerful, but for someone at the age of fifteen to have that much power was unbelievable.

Master Myers made a promise to himself, a promise that he would not let what happened to him happen to Harry. Master Myers had a secret, one that would, if treated carefully, help the boy on his way to greatness. His smile did nothing to quell the yellow glow that emanated from his eyes.

*****

At the Dursleys Harry's life was less than enjoyable. Vernon and Dudley would hurt him, while Petunia would give him pity and apologize when the beatings were over. Harry did not complain about the pain. He felt as if he deserved it. It was punishment; punishment for what he had done, what he had committed. For he had been the reason Sirius died, he was, in one way, a murderer. But then again, Harry thought, I'm going to have to be murderer anyway.

When Harry thought of Sirius, he would get a feeling of hollowness, of emptiness. Every night he was plagued by Sirius and the veil: plagued by Sirius' death.

Nightmares can hurt you, as Harry soon found out. He received the nightmares so often, that he was having difficulty discerning the real world from his dream world. He could feel all the pain that was felt in the nightmares, even if it was not him the one the injuries were aimed at. He could feel the pains of his friends. Always were Ron and Hermione hurt. Determination flared up inside him as an image of Hermione lying dead on the ground came into his mind. “I will not let that happen,” Harry vowed to himself, “Never again will they be hurt. I will die before they are touched.”

*****

“I fear for this boy, he is holding in too much anger, hatred, and pain,” Master Myers was currently engaged in conversation with Professor Dumbledore. “The Darkness is flooding him, invading him. He is in a war with himself, one that the light side is losing. The days are growing darker, Dumbledore, and he is the cause of it. If he is not helped now, he will be lost forever.”

Dumbledore looked grave, “I fear for him too. I have put too much weight on his shoulders: burdens a fifteen-year-old boy should not have to carry. I am to blame. My actions may be the cause of the end of this world. I made the wrong choice. He may never trust me again.”

“You did make the wrong choice, but there may be a chance to fix it. But first, there is something that has been bothering me for a while, and I don't think it has to do with the prophecy or Sirius' death. There is something deeper that I see in Harry. His aura has gone black, and it seems as if his very soul is tearing apart. Something has happened to him; something has been done that has to do with his soul. If we do not find out what happened, he may very well become exactly what he needs to destroy.” John Myers looked very fatigued.

“I saw the same thing happen once. I saw a kind boy turn into a monster. I saw the changes that occurred, but I did nothing. And now we have all paid dearly for it. It happened to a boy named Tom Riddle.”

*****

You are worthless, Harry. You have done no good. People die around you. You are cursed: a soul-less being. You are a monster.

Harry sat trembling in his bed. Again, the nightmares invaded his sleep, ruled his dream world. Never did they cease their attacks. He was in torment; his mind was cracking ever so slightly every nightmare. He was already beginning to lose his sanity.

Harry…Harry…How could you? Why did you kill us Harry? We kept you safe, and how do you repay us? YOU KILL US!!!

The voices of his parents accusing him were some of the worst moments of the dreams. Every night their faces would pop into his mind, looking happy. But all that would change, and soon their normal, kind, loving faces turned into cruel, hating ones.

He was so very close to the edge.

*****

“Mom, Dad, I'm worried about Harry! He hasn't answered any of my letters, and Ron said that he hasn't answered any of his either! I need to know what's wrong!” Hermione Granger was in a right state. She was pacing the room, throwing up her hands to accent certain words.

She was worried. She was worried about her best friend. She knew he was grieving, and she wanted to be there to comfort him. She had always cared for Harry, but she never showed it, thinking Harry wouldn't reciprocate her feelings.

John and Jane Granger were trying their hardest to soothe their daughter. They knew she cared for him a lot, mostly because he was all she ever talked about.

“Hermione, honey, please calm down. Hey, since you want to see Harry so badly, how about he stays here for the rest of the summer? Professor Dumbledore thought it would be good,” Jane Granger asked her daughter.

Hermione squealed with delight, informing her parents that she would write to him immediately. When she finished, she rushed back to tell her parents. She also told them that if he didn't respond, that they would go get him anyway. Also, just to be sure he was alright, she decided to call him. Harry had given it to her at the end of second year. She dialed the number, and waited for someone to pick up.

“Hello, Dursley Residence. Petunia Dursley speaking.”

“Hi, my name is Hermione Granger, and could I please speak with Harry Potter?”

“Oh, yes, just a second please.”

Hermione was giddy, so to say, until she heard his voice. It was dry and hoarse, and sounded like it hadn't been used in a long time. It was filled with pain. “Hello?”

“Oh, Harry!”

“Hermione?”

“Yes it's me Harry! Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to come spend the rest of the summer with me at my house? I sent you a letter, but seeing as you don't answer them, I decided to call.”

Harry's voice seemed to light up when he spoke.

“Sure! When will you pick me up?”

“We'll pick you up at twelve o'clock sharp on Friday.”

“Okay, see you then!”

“Bye!”

*****

“So, how did it go?” asked a curious Jane Granger.

“Oh, mom, I think there's something wrong with him. His voice was hoarse and full of pain. I need to help him!” Hermione began to sob.

“Don't worry, you'll be with him soon enough,” said John Granger as he comforted his daughter.

*****

A/N: Okay, I really need help with the emotional parts. The rest of the story I think is pretty good, since I edited it. So yeah, review please…I need some advice.

Thanks,

The Dark Sorceror

-->

5. CLASH OF THE TITANS

Clash of the Titans

*****

“Now, Harry, it is time to learn who the better fighter is,” Master Myers was grinning. Harry watched him with no expression apparent on his face.

Harry felt nothing at all, no cockiness, no anxiety, nothing. He was completely focused on the task ahead, and that was the battle between him and his teacher. If he won he would get his black belt, if he didn't, then he would have to wait and try again.

They both bowed to each other, and took their stances. They stared into each other's eyes, trying to find a weakness. Master Myers was not surprised to see the emptiness in Harry's eyes.

Harry suddenly came forward, and threw his leg out in a round kick, which Master Myers easily blocked. Harry then tossed a punch, but Master Myers disappeared and reappeared behind Harry. Wait a second, how? Harry sensed Master Myers behind him and jumped to the side. Master Myers then tried to sidekick Harry, but it was blocked. Harry took this chance to grab onto Master Myers' leg, and threw him with superhuman strength. Master Myers flipped in midair, and landed on his feet, immediately jumping into action by back-fisting Harry in the face. Harry did not move when he was hit.

The room grew darker as time passed. Blow after blow was taken and blocked. Harry jumped up into the air, locked his legs around Master Myers' neck, and flipped him onto his back.

Harry's eyes started to glow, his pupils red and the rest of his eyes black. The air began to crackle as raw magical energy flashed about him. His hair was moving as if in a breeze, and his aura became visible to the naked eye.

Master Myers was doing the same thing, except his eyes were glowing an eerie shade of yellow.

When Harry moved it was as if the entire world slowed down except for him. He instantly appeared before Master Myers, and punched straight at his chest. Right before the blow was to be landed, however, a hand flew out of nowhere super fast and grabbed wrist.

“Come on, Harry! You can do better than that!” Master Myers taunted Harry as he began to crush Harry's wrist. Harry did not wince at all, but felt anger and hatred begin to rise up into him. He grabbed Master Myers' arm with his free hand, hooked his left ankle with Master Myers' right, and tripped him onto his back. But before he could do anything else, Master Myers' foot shot out and hit Harry in the side of the knee, knocking him onto the floor.

They both kip-upped at the same time, but Harry staggering slightly as he landed on his weak knee. They both resumed their attacks, becoming more aggressive as time went on. Soon their limbs were moving so fast that they could barely be seen by the human eye.

Soon Harry found a weakness in Master Myers. Right before he kicked, he let his guard down, and Harry immediately threw forward his fist, stopping it right in front of Master Myers' face.

“I win,” He said calmly, not even out of breath.

*****

Soon it was Friday, the day Hermione was going to pick him up. He felt that he should feel something, something that he could not remember. Oh yes, happiness, that's it. He could not remember any time that he had been happy. It seemed as if those memories had been torn from his very mind. Whatever was happening to him, it was really taking its tool on him. No longer did he sleep, it seemed as if it was an impossible feat for him. No matter how much he ate, he was always hungry, hungry enough to feel like he was dying of starvation. The same thing was happening for his thirst. He could drink all wanted and not feel refreshed, quenched.

*****

“He is too powerful, I have already seen a glimpse of what he can do. He fought me, won, and was not even out of breath!” John Myers was once again informing Dumbledore of Harry's abilities.

“I know, so far everything is going exactly as foreseen,” replied Dumbledore.

*****

Harry was walking along the road that led to the only park that had escaped Dudley's gang's wrath. He sat down in one of the swings, and tried to organize his thoughts. There were so many of them, most of them about Sirius. Harry did not cry though, he hadn't cried in a long time. He felt as if he didn't know how to cry anymore. For so long had he held in his fears, bottling them up and learning to block them. He was never rewarded with anything when he cried at the Dursleys when he was little. He was never comforted, never loved, never counted as an actual person. Filth was treated better in the Dursley's house.

A scream brought him out of his thoughts. He spun in the direction the scream had originated from, and tried to look closer in the alley. His vision seemed to increase and he could clearly see the large shapes of his cousin's gang. He could also see a little shape on the ground, having just been thrown there. Sighing, Harry got up and went to see whom his cousin was beating up.

As Harry neared the alley, he could hear the voices of his cousin and his friend and the voice of the victim.

“Oh, please don't hurt me again! Please!” The little kid started sobbing. Harry discovered that it was a girl.

He saw the massive shape of his cousin pick the girl up and pin her against the wall with his hands. Harry decided it was time to take action.

“Dudley, what are you doing now?” asked Harry in a bored voice.

“None of your business Potter!” Shouted Malcolm, one of the bigger guys in the gang.

“Is it really necessary that you need to beat up little girls, or are they the only people you can beat up nowadays? Surely you haven't stooped that low,” Harry stated with a grin. Dudley's faced turned pink with embarrassment.

“Come on, ickle Duddleykins,” Harry almost laughed at the face Dudley made.

“Did he just say `ickle Duddleykins'?” asked one of the boys in the gang.

“SHUT UP!” Dudley bellowed, releasing his grip on the girl. The girl took off down the alley at once.

“I'd rather not, there are still quite a few nicknames I'm sure your friends want to know,” said Harry.

Dudley made to hit Harry, but before the punch could hit, Harry grabbed it with his hand. The gang instantly reacted, all rushing in to attack Harry. Harry merely rolled his eyes, and in the blink of an eye, they were all on the ground except Dudley, whose arm Harry still had in his grasp. When Dudley looked at Harry Harry's face was very serious looking.

“Never. Try that. Again.” Harry then released Dudley, turned on his heel, and began walking towards the road.

BANG!

Harry stopped in his tracks. He reached behind him, and when he pulled his fingers back, they were covered in blood. Harry turned back to face Dudley, and saw the handgun in his cousin's hand.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Harry felt the bullets pierce his skin, but he felt no pain. It didn't hurt. Harry looked Dudley in the eyes, and to Dudley's horror, smiled. Harry did not know that Dudley did not see green eyes, but red ones. Harry flicked his hand, and Dudley was down on the ground, limp.

*****

As Harry entered the home of Number 4, Privet Drive, the first thing he noticed was that no one was home. The adrenaline from his fight with Dudley was starting to wear off, and the bullet wounds were really starting to hurt.

“Oh shit!” Harry cursed as he entered his room, trying as hard as he could to stay on his feet from the pain. Something was happening though, he could feel his skin moving. He carefully took his shirt off, and found that there was a thin layer of new skin covering the wounds. It did nothing to lesson the pain; it just stopped the bleeding.

*****

The Grangers just turned onto the street where Harry lived when he walked in the door. They did not see each other. The Mercedes-Benz pulled up to the driveway of Number 4. They all exited after they parked, and made their way up to the house. The front door was slightly open, and after they knocked a few times, they decided to have a look inside.

“Harry?” They called as they stepped through the doorway.

A few minutes later, they heard the THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! of something heavy being dragged down the stairs. As soon as Harry reached the bottom and made it to the front door, his task was abandoned as he was pulled into a rib-crushing hug only Hermione can deliver.

“Hermione, please, breath…must…breath,” Harry choked out.

“C'mon, Hermione, I think you're killing him,” said John Granger, causing Hermione to jump back, blushing.

“It's good to see you too, Hermione,” Harry said, grinning.

“Harry, are you okay?” Jane Granger asked. She took in his appearance, and he didn't look to well. There were a few bruises on his face, and he was unconsciously holding his hand against his midsection.

“I'm fine,” Harry lied, and Jane Granger gave him a doubting look. Harry didn't want them to worry about him.

“Well,” said John Granger, trying to change the subject because of the awkward tension in the room, “let's get going. Got all your stuff Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, and he and Mr. Granger picked up his trunk and headed out the door to the car. The two females followed.

*****

The trip was silent except for a few attempts from Hermione to start conversation. Harry just stared out the window of the car, watching the world flash by as they headed down the road.

Unbeknownst to Harry, the three Grangers were all looking at him with concern. The observed him for quite some time, noting the faraway expression on his face, and his empty, glazed over eyes that never blinked. He looked deep in thought.

And Harry was deep in thought. Sirius' voice was ringing in his ears. Why did you kill me Harry? Why? I sacrificed everything for you!

Hermione was worried, and the fact that Harry was lost completely in his thoughts was not helping matters. She needed to help him through this.

*****

“We're here!” Jane Granger announced as they pulled into the driveway of a large, brick house. As soon as they were in the garage and out of the car, Hermione took Harry's hand and took him inside. She then took him on the grand tour of the house, showing him his room as well.

When the tour was finished, Harry parted ways with Hermione and entered his room, finding his stuff already in there, carried in by Mr. Granger.

As soon as his door was closed, he collapsed onto the floor. He had gone through the whole trip keeping his face smiling, but now that he was alone he could finally show his pain. The room began spinning as the pain made him nauseous, and he crawled into the bathroom that was connected to his room. He let up whatever was in his stomach into the toilet, and passed out on the floor.

*****

At the same time downstairs, Hermione was talking to her parents. They were all very worried about Harry, not knowing what kind of ordeal he had gone through.

“He's hiding something from me,” said Hermione as she took a sip of her tea. “And I want to know what happened to him. I know that he is still suffering from Sirius' death, but he shouldn't be bruised and cut from that.”

She gasped at a thought that came into her head, “You don't think he's hurting himself, do you?”

Her mother looked at her with serious expression, “I don't know…”

*****

A/N: Ok, I have made major changes in this chapter and the rest of the story. It will all be for the better though, as it will help Harry realize his feelings for Hermione. I'm sorry if some of the writing (or all!) is terrible because for the last couple of months I have been suffering from extreme writer's block, and stuff just isn't coming as easily as usual.

Oh yea, remember to review!

Thanks,

The Dark Sorceror

-->

6. WHAT IS HELL

WHAT IS HELL

*****

Harry was in what looked to be a graveyard. Tombstones littered the area as far as the eye could see. It was a very depressing place, but it seemed as if something was there.

Harry could feel its presence: his hair was standing on end and he felt a wrenching feeling in his gut. He could hear something, the snap of a twig, the flutter of wings, the rustling of leaves. It was getting closer. It was very close. It gave Harry another feeling: fear. It was starting to swell inside him, traveling along every cell in his body. He knew it was right behind him, but he could not summon the courage to turn around. He could feel its breath on the back of his neck, could sense its hand reaching out to get him…

The hand gripped him, digging its talons into his flesh. Harry could feel his blood running along down his skin. The flesh in contact with the hand began to burn, sending the smell of smoke and burnt flesh.

The hand forced Harry to turn around. It took all of Harry's courage not to scream. Facing him was a large, demonic-like figure. Flames spouted from out of its black flesh, giving it a menacing look. The horns on the creature were large and sharp, well over a foot long. The eyes were burning with a fiery menace, maniacal and intimidating. Six-inch long talons jutted out from the creature's hands and feet, looking sharper than a scalpel.

A low, loud rumbling came from the demon's mouth, shaking its surroundings, “So you are the one who drank from the goblet. It will be great fun torturing you.”

Before Harry even had a chance to say anything, the demon's claws ripped away the flesh from his arm, causing him to scream out in pain. The claws then tore off his left arm completely, causing Harry to nearly faint from the pain. He fell to his knees, arm bleeding, eyes watering, and mouth screaming.

The ground around him began to shake, and great crevices appeared, spewing forth great flames that encompassed Harry, burning away his body. More demons arose from these crevices, wanting to join the fun of tormenting a fresh new victim. The all began tearing into Harry, ripping him to pieces. He was soon left a pile of bleeding, torn body parts. But soon, his body put itself back together, only to be ripped apart again. He had never felt such pain before.

His screams become more distant, more erratic. He slowly began to stop moving as a new darkness surrounded him. He slowly began to drift away, falling endlessly, through nothingness. But in his dark surroundings, Harry could see a light. As the light moved closer, Harry could see that it was in the shape of a person: a woman, no doubt. Harry could not see her face, but could hear her voice, whispering, “Come back to me.”

*****

Harry's eyes bolted open. He sat up and looked around. His body ached, and he still felt nauseous. Desperate to keep whatever contents in his stomach in their rightful place, Harry closed his eyes to stop the dizziness creeping up on him.

After sitting for a few minutes on the bathroom floor, Harry stood up. His whole body was trembling, and his knees felt as if they would buckle under his weight at any second.

Finally able to walk, Harry made his way through the bathroom door to his room. There he grabbed some clothes, and took them into the bathroom with him. He turned on the shower, undressed, and got in. The warmth of the water began to soothe his aching muscles, leaving him feeling refreshed.

Fifteen minutes later, the shower was turned off. Harry exited, and wrapped a towel he found in a cabinet under the sink around him. As he looked in the mirror, he saw markings that made him wince. His upper body was covered in ugly bruises, some turning to a disgusting yellow-green color. There were also five, circular shaped wounds, and as Harry remembered how he got them, the pain came flooding back. His hands clutched at the injuries, hopelessly trying to ease the tenderness.

Discovering that he could do nothing to stop the pain, Harry changed into his new clothes. He then exited the bathroom, and left to go downstairs.

Upon entering the kitchen, an aroma of freshly cooked bacon and eggs attacked his sense of smell. His stomach grumbled quite loudly, considering he had not eaten for a very long time.

The cacophony made by his stomach was what made the three Grangers notice that he had entered the kitchen. Mr. Granger looked up from the newspaper he was currently reading, Mrs. Granger stopped scrambling some eggs in the skillet, and Hermione stopped eating and turned to face him.

“Hi Harry,” she said awkwardly.

“Hey,” Harry said nonchalantly.

“Are you feeling well this morning Harry? You look awfully pale,” Mrs. Granger said concernedly as she resumed her food preparation.

“I'm fine,” Harry lied, finding an interesting spot on the kitchen tile so he would not have to look any of the Grangers in the eye. They all looked skeptical at this comment, but made no further inquiries.

“Well, why don't you take a seat? I'll have your breakfast done in a few minutes,” Mrs. Granger said kindly.

Harry sat down at the table and looked at the two people currently residing there. Mr. Granger had recommenced reading the paper, and Hermione was eating her food, though still watching Harry out of the corner of her eye.

When Harry's breakfast was placed before him, the scent and amount of the delicious food made him nauseous and his appetite was lost. He just couldn't eat that much anymore. He decided that taking a few bites would be best, and ate as much as could, which was not a large amount.

“How come you're not eating your breakfast Harry? Do you not like bacon and eggs?” Mrs. Granger queried.

“No, it's not that. I'm just not used to getting this amount of food at the Dursleys.” All of the Grangers frowned at this comment.

Find the silence that ensued uncomfortable, Harry made to retreat back to his room. “Thank you for breakfast Mrs. Granger, it was delicious.”

He slowly made his way back up to his room, and lie down on the bed. Instantly, memories began plaguing his mind. It was like someone had flipped a switch; they were instantly turned on as soon as his eyes were closed.

Memories: he had so many of them. Lots of them were happy, but loads of them were filled with pain and misery.

Sirius was falling through a tattered, black veil. His face was still full of laughter, but a new expression had emerged: shock. He fell gracefully through the veil, never to return-

Harry was shaken from reminiscing his memories at a knock on his door. “Harry?” It was Hermione. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Harry replied sorrowfully, the sadness he had experienced from the memories not having left. The door opened, and Hermione entered the bedroom timidly, as though she was breaching a wall that was not meant to be crossed.

“Harry? Can I talk to you?” she asked nervously.

“About what?” Harry answered, his face blank as he stared at the ceiling.

“About Sirius,” she answered quietly. She knew Harry did not want to talk about Sirius, but he had to if he wanted to get better.

“What is there to talk about?” Harry replied, the guilt forming a lump in his throat.

“The fact that you need to get over his death,” she responded desperately.

“And why should I,” said Harry darkly. His face showed no emotion, but his eyes showed different. They betrayed his feeling of guilt and despair: the fact that he felt truly and utterly alone.

“If you want to get better than you must talk,” Hermione responded again, her voice slightly more confident than before. “Sirius would want you to be happy, you know that.”

“I don't deserve happiness. Not after what I did,” Harry said emptily.

“Why must you feel that you need to punish yourself?” Hermione said slightly louder as her frustration grew.

“Because it is how I was raised. I am no more than a piece of filth. They all say I am,” Harry finished softly.

“Wait, who is they?” she questioned.

“Everyone,” Harry answered flatly.

“Everyone?” Hermione asked confused.

“Yes, everyone,” Harry said, “The Dursleys, Voldemort, Sirius, my parents, the Weasleys, Neville, Luna, Dumbledore, you.”

“I never insulted you!” Hermione said, looking affronted.

“In my sleep you do. Every night I am plagued by nightmares; nightmares in which everyone hates me, insults me, hurts me. I can't escape…” Harry finished off sadly.

“Harry, I'm so sorry,” Hermione said apologetically.

“There's no need to be sorry. God knows I deserve it,” Harry answered dismally.

“But why do you deserve it?” Hermione inquired.

“Because I am an idiot!” Harry shouted as he sat up from his place on his bed, “I chose to go to the ministry, to put you all in danger! I chose to go with my `saving people thing'! I chose not to listen to you tell me it was a trap! I chose to go recklessly, not considering the consequences of my actions! And you know what happened? The person I loved most in this world was taken from me, all because of my careless choices!

“But now I am alone, and it is all my fault. Why should I be happy when Sirius is not? Why should I be loved when Sirius cannot be? Why should I be alive if Sirius is not?”

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. She forcefully grabbed Harry in a tight hug, trying to console him. The only thing that happened, however, was that Harry let out a small gasp of pain.

“What's wrong?” she asked, looking worried.

“It's nothing,” he lied.

“Harry James Potter! Don't lie to me! I can tell if you're lying to me, you know,” Hermione scolded.

“It's nothing,” he repeated.

“Please, Harry, tell me. What's bothering you?” she asked frantically.

“Nothing, now please, just leave me alone, I want to sleep,” Harry asked, the bags under his eyes giving off how tired he actually was.

“Fine, but please, tomorrow, tell me what's the matter, okay?” she pleaded.

“When I'm ready to talk, you're the first person I'll come to,” Harry responded. This seemed to satisfy her, and she left the room quietly, not making any noise as she closed the door.

Harry, without changing, lay back down on his bed, and let darkness take him.

*****

Harry awoke a few hours later, his sleep having done nothing to rejuvenate him. He had been tortured through the mind, as the Dark Lord told him. Image after image of people he loved were dead or dying, in the most horrifying ways possible. Then he too, would be tortured, so that he was unable to help them, making the guilt for not rescuing them build up.

Harry got out of bed, his legs felt like jelly after what he had just witnessed in his nightmares. Stumbling slightly as he made his way over to his trunk, Harry pulled out a new shirt to change into. Just after he took his shirt off however, someone opened the door.

“Oh, sorry Harry, I was just checking to see if you were awake-“ she cut herself off and her eyes widened when she got a look at Harry's bare chest. She saw the bruises and the five, round holes.

She screamed.

The scream drove her parents running into Harry's room.

“What's wrong?” her father asked. They turned and looked at Harry, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger's jaws dropped.

“Oh my lord…” Mrs. Granger gasped.

*****

A/N: Yes, I do realize I am completely changing how this story used to be, but there is a point to it, so don't hurt me just yet! I know this is confusing and all but please bare with me; I'm trying to edit this story and make it work out. Okay?

The Dark Sorceror (Yes, and I do know it's spelled wrong)

-->

7. DREKES

Drekes

*****

Harry wandered aimlessly down the street, not paying any attention to his surroundings. He was too deep in his thoughts to realize where he was going. Stupid Snape doesn't even know what he's talking about, Harry thought. He doesn't know anything, he has no idea what it's like; nobody does.

Harry never noticed that he was walking into a forest that was about a block from Hermione's house. He could hear them calling for him, but he paid them no attention. He didn't care.

There was something in the air here, and it seemed to be pulling Harry along. The forest was covered in mist, objects impossible to make out from the foggy blanket. But something was leading him the right way, and he did not trip over any branches or roots. He just kept walking.

An unwelcome tingling went down his spine. He had a feeling: a dark one. There was something else in this forest. Something was following him; or leading him, for that matter. He could sense it; they were around here somewhere.

There was a rustle of leaves, and the snap of a twig. Several more twigs gave way after that. There was a scratching sound, a horrible sound that made Harry shiver. There were scratching sounds all around him, and a shuffling sound, as of someone trying to maneuver through a barricaded path.

Harry made his way to the forest until he reached a clear path, one no longer overshadowed by mist. There was an uprooted tree in the center of this clearing, and Harry sat on it, twisting his head in all directions, looking for the thing (or things) that were after him. There was a low sound coming from behind him.

Growling.

He spun so fast he saw black spots in front of his eyes. He cleared his head, and then looked into an opening through some trees, and saw what made his heart freeze: eyes. Silver, glowing eyes, with black pupils that were like a cats. The eyes were giving off a sense of untamable hunger and ruthlessness.

There were more eyes surrounding that first pair, four in all. They all had the same look about them, one of a malicious hunger for flesh.

The creatures to which the eyes belonged to stepped into the clearing, and Harry felt an iron fist clench down upon him. They were like a mix between a jaguar and a wolf, standing three feet at the shoulders, with black fur that blended completely with the shadows, and large ears. They had a long snout and inside their mouths were sharp, pointed, cone-like teeth. There was a faint red tint on the teeth, and their breath smelled like decay.

The largest one, probably the leader, glared at Harry, making a sort of snarling sound. They sat there for a while; silver eyes meeting green ones. Without warning, the jaguar-wolf lunged at Harry, and bit down on his forearm with its massive jaws. Making a surprised yelp from the pain, Harry grabbed the snout of the creature and pried open its jaws with a strength that did not match a skinny boy his size.

Obviously impressed with their prey, the creatures gave a toothy grin (which looked really strange on a deadly killing machine) and began circling him, trying to find a weak point. They would attack in a random format, from the right, then from behind, and then right again.

But Harry would not go down without a fight. Something snapped inside him, and he could sense things differently. His hearing was phenomenal; he could hear a rabbit bouncing along miles away. His sense of smell was heightened, and he could decipher the scent of the jaguar-wolves from the rest of the animals and plants in the surrounding area. His vision was like looking through a sniper scope, and he could change how far he could see. And his sense of taste: oh yes, he could taste things. He could taste things he had eaten weeks ago. But he could also taste flesh; not flesh he had eaten, but flesh that he wanted to eat; flesh of these creatures.

He let out a roar.

*****

“Harry! Harry where are you?”

The members of the Order of the Phoenix were having difficulty finding one Harry Potter. The last they had seen him he had been facing off with Severus Snape. Now, there was no trace of him.

The Grangers, Albus Dumbledore, and Minerva McGonagall, were all one team in the huge search party. They had split off from the main group and were trying to locate Harry using some advanced tracking spells.

They were all worried for Harry, especially now that Voldemort was back and wanted Harry dead. They had to get him back to the Granger's house before Voldemort found him.

Still there was no trace of him, they had searched all around the house and surrounding neighborhood. They all froze when they heard it. A low, frightening roar.

*****

Harry was transformed; he was no longer self-conscious, but run on animalistic instinct. He tore through the creatures ravenously, like some crazed beast. But the only problem was that these things didn't have normal flesh. Their flesh was like the shadows, when torn, they would come back together. That didn't stop Harry though, for his flesh too acted like that, so the creatures weren't able to stop him.

When the creatures looked into his eyes this time, they weren't green; they were red, with black, cat-like pupils, burning with a manic desire to destroy.

*****

The Order entered the forest, and was drawn to the clearing by the sounds of battle. As soon as they entered the clearing, however, they found nothing there.

There was a low howl from behind them, and when they turned, they screamed.

*****

The creatures sensed that a group of people were coming, and instantly vanished in a puff of dark smoke. Harry sensed it too, and ran out of the clearing into the misty forest.

He could not control the animal inside him now; it had been in charge for too long. It now discerned that the group coming was new prey, and Harry went into hunt mode. He took a detour in the forest, and using his enhanced senses, snuck up on the group from behind. He could not help it though when he saw the people, saw how delicious they looked, perfect for a good meal. He let out a howl, and was on the charge.

*****

Dumbledore wasn't a powerful wizard for nothing. His reflexes put his wand in his hand before he even had time to think, and he without delay shouted a very complex and powerful stunning spell, “Attonitus Stupefactus!”

The curse hit Harry right in the chest, and he was knocked backwards. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

*****

The spell did not last very long. Not two minutes after it was cast Harry awoke; but this time, there was no dangerous animal controlling his mind.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered.

“Harry, we need to know what happened,” said Dumbledore, worry lining his face. Harry recounted the whole story, a little reluctantly at first, but then gave in. When he was finished, Dumbledore was looking grave.

“Harry, this isn't good. Transformations like that are dangerous, and sometimes fatal. The animal instinct is not something that is easily overcome. If it controls you again, you may never be self-conscious again,” Dumbledore cleared his throat, “now, tell me more about these creatures.”

“They were black-furred, and blended with the shadows perfectly. Their teeth were large, and sharp, with red stains. The eyes were a glowing silver…” Harry trailed off as he recounted the horrifying image.

Dumbledore made a simple reply, his face stricken with fear, “Drekes.”

“Drekes?” asked Harry.

“Yes, they are they shadow creatures. They are born from the shadows, in places where there is no light. They are drawn to feelings of anger and hatred. Those who are victims never survive.” Dumbledore said.

“But, then, why did I?” Harry asked, confused.

“There is but one creature they fear; the Black Tiger, the lord of all shadow born monsters. It seems the Tiger has risen,” Dumbledore looked at Harry, the twinkle back in his eyes.

It was then that Hermione came storming through the group of people, worry evident upon her face. She grabbed him in a rib-crushing hug, and then let him go, her face showing anger this time, “Don't you ever run away like that again, Harry James Potter! What if Voldemort found you, or the Death Eaters captured you? You could have gotten hurt!” She gripped him in another hug.

“Come on, Harry, Hermione, let's get you both home,” said Dumbledore.

*****

Harry was running through a forest, his massive paws making no sound as they hit the forest floor. He could smell his prey in the air; it was only a few hundred meters away.

Up ahead he saw it, a figure in a black cloak. Something about it made Harry want to tread cautiously around the thing. Unsheathing his dagger-like claws from his paws, he walked cautiously up to the figure, ready for any surprise attack.

The figure turned around, and dropped the hood of its cloak, revealing white skin, and demonic red eyes. The cloaked body was none other than Voldemort himself.

“Hello there Harry, I see you've discovered your new form. Ah, yes, you are always full of surprises. To tell the truth, I never thought you would be the one to control the Drekes, but I guess I was wrong. No matter, being the Atrum Cattus does not mean you can defeat me, for I am the serpent. But together, Harry, think of the things we could accomplish! With our combined powers, there would be nothing standing in our way! I could train you in the ways of power and control, and you too will learn to be a Lord. The Serpent and the Tiger, the two most powerful wizards in the history of the world, together, and immortal! Yes, Harry, immortal! Just think, forever will we govern over those weaker and less worthy than us. We will be the Dark Lords, masters over all wizards. You will be able to protect those you love, especially that girl. I do know about the girl, Harry, for I always know what you are thinking, what you are feeling, and the anger inside of you is empowering me! My power is something that even you cannot match, so think wisely, if you choose wrong, know that I will find you, and kill you. You can not beat me Harry, but you can join me!”

Cruel, cold laughter rang throughout the forest, causing blood to stop in its veins, and for fear to clench the hearts of those who know what the laughter meant. And one of those persons was Harry Potter.

Voldemort touched a long, spidery, pale finger against Harry's scar, causing it to burst open in pain. But Voldemort held him there, keeping Harry from escaping, just enough to drill a message into his head, “If you try to fight the darkness, the light will burn out.”

*****

Harry awoke, both hands clutching his scar, not realizing he had screamed. His breathing was short and shallow, and he felt something liquidly run through his fingers.

A few moments later and Hermione burst into his room, looking fretful.

“What is it Harry, is it your scar?” She rushed over to Harry, and grabbed his hand, but pulled her hand away. His skin was burning hot!

She got a rag, and rinsed it in some cold water, and began tending to Harry, the rag cooling him.

When Harry had calmed down, and his scar wasn't hurting as much, he answered Hermione. “Yeah, it was my scar.”

“What happened?” Hermione asked concernedly.

“It was Voldemort. He wanted me to join him, or I would die,” Harry answered softly. “He gave me an offer, if I joined him I would get power, if I didn't, everything and everyone I love will die.”

Hermione could not fight back the tears. She grabbed Harry in one of her trademark hugs, and began sobbing onto his shoulder. Once she had stopped, she looked Harry in the eyes. His eyes were so lifeless; there was no joy or happiness. They were empty: dead: barren.

“I'm not going to join him Hermione,” Harry suddenly spoke, “I'm going to fight him.”

“But Harry,” Hermione said, “you won't need to fight him, Dumbledore will take care of that.”

“That's where you're wrong.”

*****

A/N: Okay, I am having an extremely difficult time trying to get my ideas down. There are like a trillion little plot bunny things hopping around, but they don't want to go into the story. I can never write the story like it appears in my mind, so if you have any tips on how to get past this, please let me know!

Thanks,

The Dark Sorceror

-->