Harry Potter and the Demonic Realm

A/N: My first fic. I don’t mind constructive criticism… so long as it’s constructive. Rated NC-17 for later chapters for... intimacy ;)

Please review!!!!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, or any associated characters or things that belong to it. They are property of J.K. Rowling.

Be warned, flamers. I have marshmallows and I’m not afraid to use them.

by The Discovery Channel

Chapter One

*****

Harry sat in the car, watching as the only people and places he cared about were whisked away from him by Uncle Vernon’s car. Harry’s uncle was in an odd mood these days; beneath the calm but fat face he indefinitely wore there seemed to be raging a battle of two of ’s most fundamental instincts which had no intentions of letting down. Harry was quite certain the Order was the only reason Vernon was like this; usually, his uncle would be looking as though Christmas had come early as he sat in his car driving, imagining the relish with which he would lock Harry into Dudley’s second bedroom for the rest of the summer.

         

Aunt Petunia was torn between anxiety and regret; anxiety for Harry’s usual happy appearance was gone, but then regretting she ever even gave a small thought to the boy. After all, he was still an abnormal child that deserved nothing but punishment. But did he? After all, Harry wasn’t his mother. It wasn’t his fault that Lily had turned out to be a witch and Petunia was jealous of that fact. The conflict of her emotions seemed to go on forever.

Both of them were grateful that Harry didn’t suspect anything; after all, Vernon and Petunia had just left Mad-Eye Moody’s presence five minutes ago, someone who certainly wouldn’t agree with Petunia’s neighbours (except perhaps Mrs. Figg, who was a Squib).

Harry, however, was consumed with guilt. He had been stupid enough to fall for Voldemort’s trap; so, he and his two best friends Ron and Hermione, and involuntarily some members of the DA, had gone to the Department of Mysteries to find Sirius simply to find that, after all, it had been a trap; and so, they escaped, but without Sirius, and Harry felt utterly terrible to say the least, not just about Sirius’s demise, but the fact that Harry was completely certain he was to blame for it.

Then Harry remembered that he was going home to the Dursleys’; however, to his confusion, he noticed the car was already pulled up outside the front door.

“! YOUR WORTHLESS HIDE OUT OF MY THIS INSTANT!” His uncle roared from the outside.

Harry groaned as he realised he’d been daydreaming about Sirius’s death, and slowly opened the door and got out of the car. Knowing what wonders his Uncle Vernon might have in store for him due to the Order’s threats, he made no delay in half-running to the boot to haul out Hedwig’s cage and his trunk before his uncle could berate him for something else.

“DID YOU ME, ?! I SAID YOUR WORTHLESS HIDE YOUR TRUNK OUT OF MY THIS INSTANT!” His uncle roared again, this time sounding as though it came from inside the front door. Harry looked up to see his uncle’s head sticking out of the window facing him.

“That’s what I’m doing, in case you haven’t noticed” Harry replied coolly.

“SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT BY PEOPLE LIKE-LIKE-LIKE YOU!” spat at him.

Harry groaned inwardly. He could tell that wasn’t going to give up his tirade until he finally decided not to answer; so he simply gave in early.

“Fine, fine” Harry said impatiently. “Let me take my trunk upstairs, then...”

“OH NO YOU ’T!” shouted in an oddly hysterical voice. “YOU AREN’T PRACTISING YOUR ABNORMALITY UP THERE!”

“Well then,” Harry said with a malicious grin on his face, “Perhaps I had better send a letter off with Hedwig.”

Harry stood there and watched his uncle make his decision; it seemed to be taking an awfully long time for him to process what Harry was getting at, or perhaps he simply wasn’t afraid of Mad-Eye Moody and his fellow madmen as Uncle Vernon probably thought of them. His uncle’s face then turned immediately pale and Harry grinned at him, knowing perfectly well what that meant. He didn’t need to be told twice.

“Good.” He said, trying to control the evil taint in his voice as he heaved his now extremely heavy trunk up the stairs; it felt as though the carpet was resisting his pull. Finally, he managed to drag his trunk into the bedroom, and collapsed onto the bed immediately; Sirius’s death had really worn on Harry, and he seemed to become tired twice as quickly these days.

Harry took a quick glance at the clock. . Snape had set him a four foot essay; it would probably take the rest of the night so Harry took out some parchment, one of his more luxurious quills, dipped it in his green ink jar and wondered how on earth to start the essay: “Discuss the relative pros and cons of the Swelling Solution, taking to special regard side effects.” Harry sighed heavily, knowing perfectly well that this was an essay only Hermione could extend to be four feet long, and began to write his answer when he heard wailing from downstairs.

“Dad, why can’t I get that?” He said angrily, quite audible from upstairs.

According to what Harry had heard earlier, had now reached almost eighteen stone; and even by his standards that really was saying something. Knowing perfectly well that one bit of ink on the sheets would mean being locked in the cupboard under the stairs, Harry hastily rolled up the start of his essay and closed his jar of ink, as only last year Dudley’s weight and tantrums put together had caused small tremors in Harry’s bedroom.

Harry sighed, and pulled out one of his chocolate frogs from his trunk, before realising that wasn’t worth risking if it escaped and hopped down into the living room and sent the Dursleys into a dimension of madness yet to be seen by Harry, and he’d seen rather a lot of Dursleyish madness.

Suddenly, a barn owl flew in the open window. Harry spotted a letter attached to its leg, and he froze; he could see the seal of Hogwarts on it, so he figured it must be his O.W.L results. The barn owl stopped just in front of Harry, and flew off as he took the letter off its leg and began to read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

Enclosed are your O.W.L results from your fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and we expect you as always to be ready for school on September the first.

M. C. McGonagall

Harry immediately ripped open the second part of the letter, which stated:

Results:

Defense Against the Dark Arts:                     Outstanding

Potions:                                                                  Outstanding

Herbology:                                                             Exceeds Expectations

Divination:                                                             Dreadful

History of Magic:                                                   Acceptable

Transfiguration:                                                     Outstanding

Charms:                                                                 Outstanding

Astronomy:                                                            Poor

Care of Magical Creatures:                                     Outstanding

These results therefore mean you have gained 12 O.W.Ls. Congratulations!

M. C. McGonagall

Harry’s mind immediately reeled with questions; he wasn’t sure which to ponder first, but then immediately started to wonder whether or not he’d recieved Hermione’s results by mistake: after all, he can’t have got 5 O’s, but what baffled Harry most was that he’d managed to get an Outstanding grade in Potions, of all classes; he was quite certain a third party must have stepped in to stop Snape failing him on purpose.

However, Harry’s thoughts were disturbed by the sound of his uncle pounding upstairs, and Harry knew something certainly wasn’t right about that. He quickly stuffed his letters into the nearest available drawer and his uncle barged into the room, looking utterly livid.

“Well, well, well” said, in a would-be calm voice. “Who do you think could be at the front door just now?”

“I have no idea” Harry replied, for once being truthful.

“’T GIVE ME THAT!” He roared at Harry, who stood his ground.

“I don’t know who’s at the front door until you tell me, so you might as well quit shouting and tell me what’s going on” Harry replied coolly, although he could tell that it wasn’t a good idea to talk so casually in his uncle’s presence.

His uncle was clearly about to berate him for this behaviour, when a familiar hoarse voice came from downstairs. “Harry?” The voice called.

“Professor Lupin?!” Harry called, at a loss to explain why he hadn’t shown up for two weeks.

“Hello, Harry” Professor Lupin’s hoarse voice greeted him.

“Not to be rude, but surely you aren’t here to take me away already?” He asked, confused. “Not that I don’t want to be” He added, grinning.

Remus smiled at him, and said: “Yes, Harry, That’s what I’m here for.” Harry’s smile instantly grew. “Finally” he muttered to himself.

“But,” Remus continued, with a mischievous glint in his eyes usually reserved for the pictures of the young Marauders in Harry’s photo album, “I think our threats have been working nicely.” He finished, grinning maliciously.

Harry laughed aloud. “I’m staying put. I have got to hear this… not that I won’t hear Uncle Vernon anyway.”

Remus disappeared from view into the kitchen, where and Petunia were sitting down, quite obviously out of fear rather than anything else.

Harry quite distinctly heard his uncle almost leaping (if that was possible with his size) out of his chair at the sight of Remus entering his kitchen. No doubt he thought his ‘unnaturalness’ would end up in another bad situation like the one two years ago when the Weasleys had come over via the Floo network.

“Don’t manhandle me, Mr. Dursley” Remus said in an almost threatening way. “I have more important business to discuss with you.”

“Which is?” Uncle Vernon asked, rapidly reddening as he always did when an ‘unnatural’ person wandered into his house.

“Lord Voldemort is back, and so we need to get Harry out of here,” Remus said, calmly, “As the wards are malfunctioning for some unknown reason.”

“Very well, Remus” Petunia answered quickly. “Go ahead.”

Harry was completely perplexed. Since when had Aunt Petunia and Professor Lupin been on first name terms?

Harry’s thought process was interrupted by the sound of Uncle Vernon pounding across the room.

Harry quickly ran up the stairs as fast as he could and bolted into his bedroom as he heard his uncle coming up the stairs.

“Now what can he blame on me…” Harry thought aloud.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door of his bedroom flying at him; apparently Uncle Vernon had punched it off its hinges.

“WHAT YOUR UNNATURALNESS DONE TO MY WIFE?!” His uncle half-roared, half-screamed at Harry, as though he had been planning this all along.

“I don’t exactly know” he said pleasantly to his uncle, “Why don’t you try asking her?”

Apparently, this wasn’t the right answer, as his uncle promptly seized him by the neck and threw him into the wall.

Bastard, thought Harry, now how do I get out of this one…

Suddenly, several thin blue ropes appeared out of thin air and tied Uncle Vernon to the wall, who wasted no time in shouting in rage and fighting against the ropes which to him seemed more like blue snakes, as he didn’t know ropes could act of their own accord in the magical world.

Harry didn’t feel the slightest pity for Uncle Vernon being scared out of his wits; after all, since when had his uncle cared for him? He slowly walked downstairs, where Professor Lupin and Aunt Petunia were talking in low, frosty voices that he was quite sure they didn’t want him to hear them.

“Then, Petunia,” Professor Lupin said, “See you next year.”

“Well,” Harry said, “I’d better go and get my stuff then.”

“Okay, but we need to leave as soon as possible. Voldemort could turn up at any time.”

Harry bolted upstairs, and hastily shoved everything into his trunk, spilling a bottle of ink onto his robes in the process. Cursing, he closed the bottle and closed his trunk.

“You’ve forgotten your Firebolt, Harry.”

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked around the room, but there was no one there; he placed his Firebolt in his trunk with the rest of his belongings and heaved it down the stairs, ‘accidentally’ letting go of his trunk when it was directly above .

“Well then, Harry,” Remus said, grinning at Harry who was still in shock over the voice he had just heard, “Before you ask, I can drive a car.”

Remus motioned to the small Ford Escort parked outside, and they walked out to it where it promptly started up without Remus’ encouragement and they entered it, pulling out of the Dursley driveway slowly enough for Dudley to throw an egg at the car, which stuck an arm out of the paintwork, caught the egg, and promptly threw it back at Dudley who screamed and ran into the front door in his haste to get in.

His sides painful with laughter, Harry noticed that the car wasn’t being driven by Professor Lupin, but that failed to surprise him. He was brought back to reality by Remus’s voice.

“By the way, Harry, there’s something important I need to tell you.”