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Harry Potter and the Dark Times by mysticsemaj
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Harry Potter and the Dark Times

mysticsemaj

Harry Potter and the Dark Times

Chapter One: Preparation

(A/N: Hello all. After HBP I decided that I needed to personally set about fixing the mess that JK has made of our favorite fandom. While I know my writing skill is no where near her caliber, I hope to at least spin a tale that is entertaining. It's rater R, because as the story progresses, the fighting will become quite gory and the language will be come quite…er…descriptive. Hopefully will be updated at least once a week, Enjoy and Review if the moment strikes you.)

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter. If I did children probably wouldn't be able to read it.

"I fear we have awakened a sleeping giant." -Japanese General after the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

Harry thought, as he surveyed the dark green, pristinely cut lawn of Number Four, Privet Drive that once he could leave the fucking place, never to return, he might actually learn to enjoy his summer vacations.

`If I can kill Voldemort, that is.' He thought to himself with a dark look that had become familiar to his friends and surrogate family in the prior weeks.

He raised his hand to knock, but before his fist touched the pale white wood, the door flung open and Aunt Petunia sallow face was looking at him like she always did, as though he were a particularly nasty rag that needed to be thrown out.

"So you're back, are you?" She said disdainfully.

"Only for four nights," Harry answered, lowering his arm. "I sent an owl in explanation. Did you not get it?"

Aunt Petunia's mouth turned into tone of the nastiest scowls Harry had ever seen. "Yes! That retched little beast of yours flew through the window of my kitchen while I was washing dishes! It was lucky I had just seen off Mrs. Nettle from Number Six!"

"Oh yes. Luck is what it was." Harry muttered as he pushed past his Aunt into the house. He knew full well why Hedwig had waited until there was no one else in the house before entering; he had instructed her to do so.

He had sent news of his imminent arrival from The Burrow two days before. After attending Bill and Fleur's wedding, which was a joyous, if not a little subdued because of the recent loss of Dumbledore, occasion, Harry had sent word that he would be coming to stay for four nights at Privet Drive, just as his now deceased beloved Headmaster had wanted. The wedding was something Harry had enjoyed and loathed all at once. He saw witches and wizards by the dozen, smiling and laughing, and each time it pissed him off. Why should people be smiling and laughing? Why should there be joy in such a time of turmoil? Dumbledore was dead, and many more were joining him everyday, and Harry couldn't do a damned thing about it.

`Not yet, anyway.' He thought to himself. `Just two more weeks till I'm legal, then I'm taking the fight right back at him. And I promise you this, Dumbledore, Voldemort will finally know what it is to fear us as we do him. I'll fucking see to that.'

Before leaving he had informed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that he had planned to take a trip to Godric's Hollow after his sojourn to his relatives, and that Ron and Hermione were both going to accompany him. Mrs. Weasley began to protest almost instantly, but with a small murmur from Mr. Weasley, reminding his wife that Ron was now of age and couldn't be told he wasn't allowed to go, her protests quieted. Initially Ron had said that he and Hermione would be coming to Privet Drive as well, but after much thought the three decided that they would stay at the Burrow and prepare for their trip instead of risking the chance of Harry's Uncle Vernon blowing his top and forcing Ron to jinx him.

After writing the letter to his Aunt, he had written a letter to Professor McGonagall, whom Mr. Weasley had told him would probably be in charge of the Order after Dumbledore's passing. The letter, which had turned out to be quite longer than Harry originally intended, requested a meeting with her, and a hand full of those Order members that Harry trusted implicitly, the night he returned to The Burrow. Her answer arrived only a few moments before Harry left the Burrow for Privet Drive. She had acquiesced, but only under the stipulation that Harry answered a few questions she had of her own. Writing a quick response, which told McGonagall that he would tell her what he thought Dumbledore would have wanted him to, Harry had left for Privet Drive.

The subject of just how Harry planned to get around during the summer had come up more than once at The Burrow. While Mrs. Weasley was all for a full regimen of Aurors to accompany Harry, he had dismissed the idea quickly. He figured he could get around quicker and more covertly by himself. So when he left for Privet Drive, donned in his invisibility cloak, he had Hermione call the Knight Bus for him. The man who had replaced Stan Shunpike, who was still being held under Death Eater suspicion, had thought her quite odd when she told him that she had changed her mind and didn't want a ride as Harry slipped onto the bus unnoticed. It didn't take long for the bus to stop in Diagon Alley, and with a lot of quick movement, and little bit of luck, Harry managed to slip into Muggle London unnoticed. He hailed himself a taxi, which he paid for with the small bit of Muggle money he had exchanged at Gringotts.

Since he would only be at Privet Drive for a few nights, he had not brought his trunk. A small bag, which he had informed Mr. Weasley many times was a muggle backpack, was strapped to his back. Ignoring his Aunt's further protests to his presence, Harry trudged up the stairs for what he hoped would be one of the last times. He entered his small room and placed his backpack atop the dresser. He looked up at the small mirror that had been placed above the desk the previous year, and grimaced at the face that looked back at him. His eyes, which used to be so vibrant and green, were now pale and hard. Dark bags hung down from each socket like he had taken a particularly bad beating from Dudley. He took several sheaves of parchment and sat down at his small desk. Pointing his wand at the parchments he said, "Hogwarts, A History" and they seemed to fill with writing of their own accord. Hermione had bewitched them for him the night before he left The Burrow.

The first was a checklist of things Harry needed to do in the next few weeks. He, Hermione, and Ron had stayed up late several nights discussing what needed to be done in the wake of Dumbledore's passing. They had decided that several things needed to be divulged to those Order members who they deemed trustworthy, namely McGonagall, Remus Lupin, the Weasley's and Tonks. Harry had decided that they should not know the prophecy in its entirety, but to gain their cooperation they would need to know that he was indeed the `Chosen One.' Hermione had pointed out that they would need resources in order to find and destroy Voldemort's remaining Horcruxes, and the only way to gain those resources would be to show the importance of their task to the Order members.

Dumbledore had told him to tell no one of the Horcruxes, with the exception of Ron and Hermione, and Harry planned to stick to that. He would not tell the Order what they were planning to do. He would inform them that he was taking up the task Dumbledore had been trying to complete before his death, and that he, Ron, and Hermione would be doing it with or without their help. Privately Harry new that without some help, finding the horcruxes would be almost impossible, if not deadly. While he was fairly confident that he and his friends could possibly come up with several places to being to look, he knew that getting to them, and having the resources to research them, would be difficult without the help of the Order.

Harry glanced once more at the mirror, and the dark bags reminded him of the dreams he had been experiencing. Every night when he slept horrible visions of Snape killing Dumbledore flashed through his mind. These dreams usually progressed to Snape murdering his father, then his mother, and sometimes Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Those few days he had spent at the Burrow, he and Ginny had reverted to form, acting as friends like they had for years. But, every now and then, Harry would catch Ginny looking at him forlorn, as though she wanted to say something, but wouldn't permit herself. Harry wanted to speak to her about it. To explain to her that they couldn't be like that ever again, that he didn't want it, but every time he tried, the small glint in her eyes stopped him. He couldn't bear to hurt her, not so soon after everything that had happened.

Harry shook his head as his thoughts drifted. He had decided only a few days after the death of Dumbledore that he wouldn't let himself dwell on things that may happen, he would deal with the here and now, and what he had to do next. So, refocusing his conscience, he began to look over the parchment, and the many things that still had yet to be done.

*

"Harry."

"Harry, wake up."

Harry slowly opened his eyes to find himself face down on his desk at Privet Drive, parchment sticking to his face.

"That's a boy. Wake up now Harry, I haven't much time."

Harry knew that voice. But how could it be?

"Oh many things that can't be, are, Harry."

Harry shot straight up, spinning in his chair. There, sitting on his bed, wearing his best periwinkle robes was Albus Dumbledore, smiling at him, eyes twinkling.

Harry found he couldn't speak.

"Hello, Harry." Dumbledore said kindly.

Harry managed to scrape a, "How?" from his throat.

"Don't worry about that now. I've come to tell you about the Horcruxes."

"What about them, sir?" Harry said in a dry voice.

"You've seen one before."

"I know. I saw your ring, and I saw the locket, but it was a fake."

"Ah yes, the locket. You've seen the real one once before, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened. "I have? When? I don't remember."

"Oh yes, you've seen it. It was in…"

Before Dumbledore could tell Harry where he had seen the locket, Harry's bedroom door burst open.

In the doorway stood Snape, his arm raised, fire blazing in his eyes.

"Hello Severus." Dumbledore said calmly.

"Dumbledore!" Snape exclaimed. "I've killed you once, old man! Why won't you stay dead?"

"As Harry here will tell you," Dumbledore replied, nodding at Harry, "as long as there are those at Hogwarts still loyal to me, I shall never be gone."

"We shall see!" Snape shouted, sending a green light speeding at Dumbledore from his wand.

Before the spell hit, Dumbledore turned to Harry and said, his voice echoing, "Sirius."

*

Harry's head flew up from his desk. He spun, his glasses askew to look at his bed, but nothing was there.

"A dream, Harry," he told himself, "just a damn dream."

But had it really just been a dream? Could Dumbledore really have sent him a message from beyond the grave? Had he really seen the locket horcrux before? Harry racked his still sleep muddled brain to answer these questions. Finding no answer suitable, he flung his glasses from his face and turned to the window. Moonlight was streaming in, the hour was late and Harry wondered how long he had been asleep on the desktop. Standing to change into his bedclothes, he continued to rack his brain about the odd dream.

Crawling into bed and turning off his bedside lamp, Harry wondered if he might be going insane, like the Prophet had said the year before.

That night, as Harry slept, the same dream occurred over and over again. Each time ending with Dumbledore's echoing voice saying, "Sirius" and Harry sitting straight up in his bed, a cold sweat covering his body.

*

The next three days passed in relative quickness for Harry. He spent most of his time, writing letters to various people, checking on the well being of some, and asking for the cooperation of others. He had asked Lupin to obtain an estimate of rebuilding Godric's Hollow, a request that was quickly granted. Now all that stood between Harry and having his parent's house back was leaving Privet Drive and making his way there.

So Harry's days passed, writing letters, reading letters, making loose plans after discarding almost every idea that had crept into his mind. And every night the same haunting dream, Dumbledore telling him he had seen the real Slytherin's locket before, and ending with an echoed `Sirius'.

Harry had come to the determination that he had to go to Number 12, Grimmauld Place as soon as possible.

Harry's last morning at Privet Drive was exactly how he had pictured it. He made his way down the steps at eight o'clock, told the Dursley's he was leaving for good, received a grunt from Uncle Vernon in return, and walked out the door.

Slipping on his invisibility cloak, he flung his wand into the air. A moment later the Knight Bus appeared with a Bang! And the door opened. The man at the door was confused by apparently being hailed by no one, but left the door open just long enough for Harry to slip aboard. An hour later he slipped back off the bus into Diagon Alley.

Cautiously making his way down the street, he spied Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes and slipped in the door. Finding Fred (or was it George?) standing at the register, Harry slipped behind him.

Harry leaned up and whispered, "Hey, it's Harry; meet me in the backroom in two minutes."

Fred jumped, but to his credit didn't make a sound and simply nodded.

Two minutes later Harry was standing, inspecting the various expensive items of W.W.W.'s back room, when Fred joined him.

"So," Fred said, "why the need to scare me witless, Harry?"

"Sorry about that," Harry answered, "but I have to keep myself scarce."

Fred nodded. "So what can I do for you, oh esteemed investor?"

"Well," Harry said, turning back to the shelves, "I need three sets of, pretty much everything you've got for battle purposes. I'll pay for it, of course."

Fred held up a finger and disappeared into the front room. Harry heard him announce that the store would be closing early and for everyone to bring their final purchases to the register. Ten minutes later he returned, George in tow.

"So Harry," George said, "Fred tells me you want three sets of everything we've got back here."

"That's right, and I'm more than prepared to pay for it."

George shook his head. "We're not concerned with the money when it comes to you, Harry, what we're concerned with is what you need them for."

Harry had never seen the twins look so serious before.

"I can't really give a lot of details, but I'll tell you as much as I can. We're leaving, Hermione, Ron and I. We've got things to do. I've got things to do; things that must be done to end this war."

George nodded and turned to look at Fred. "What do you think, Fred?"

"I think I'm fairly insulted."

"Oh yes, greatly insulted."

Harry was confused. "What?"

"You think you three are just going to run off, without anyone else?" George asked.

Harry began to shake his head. "Guys, seriously, no one else can go. No one else can know what we are going to do."

"And why is that, Harry?" Fred asked.

Harry sighed. "Because we are continuing the work that Dumbledore was doing before he died, and he told me not to tell anyone else. And," he held up a finger to stop the protest that was on both of the twin's faces, "it's not because I don't trust you, or that Dumbledore didn't trust you, it's because if you don't know, then you can't be forced to tell."

Fred and George both nodded.

"Well then," Fred began, "let's get you suited up."

An hour later Harry left the twin's shop, three bags full of shrunken items over his shoulder, and headed for the Burrow.

*

A thousand miles away, at a large mansion in the northern mountains of Georgia, a southern state of America, the fate of the wizarding world was decided by a man, who by all appearances was a normal, successful Muggle business man.

Appearances can be deceiving.

Moments earlier, the man's best friend had entered and told him terrible news.

Albus Dumbledore was dead.

After the man's initial anger had slightly faded, he turned to look at his best friend, and said, "Go pack, we're leaving for England in an hour."

"And why am I not going?" A female voice sounded from his left.

"I'm sorry, Willow," the man replied, "but this is something I have to take care of myself."

He walked away, but stopped before leaving the room to say over his shoulder, "There's a young man out there who's just had his guidance taken from him. I'm going to goddamned give it back."


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