Harry Potter and Ill Fated Karma

Harry Potter and Ill fated Karma

Summary:

After the events of Harry's sixth year, the Boy-who-lived sets off with his two friends to find the last Horcruxes. Though with the help of our friend karma, they will all discover multiple things that will forever change the world around all three of them.

Disclaimer:

Everything concerning Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I, Runningidiot, own nothing from this story, and do not plan on making any sort of profit by selling. I do not intend to make a mockery of the epic tale of Harry James Potter, but I continue to write H.P fanfiction for the mere enjoyment of it.

Rating:

Pg 13 - for strong language

Chapter Two:

A Token of Unnaturalness

The narrow path of the chosen one
reaches beyond life
I set sail for the ageless winds
No fear of dying or thought of surrender

Token of Time - Ensiferum

Even after a sleepless day, Harry Potter could find no slumber. Familiar, but rather unpleasant, memories of the past would always consume his mind whenever he shut his eyes, replacing the present with the past. Though Harry didn't always see Dumbledore tumbling down through the night air from the Astronomy Tower, sometimes Dumbledore would be replaced with Ginny, Ron or even Hermione to his surprise, other times he'd envision his family, scolding him on failures. Because of these nightmares, Harry rarely slept more than an hour during a day.

Harry rolled over, attempting to find the spot on his bed. He flipped his pillow over, relishing the cold feel of it. He shut his emerald eyes, his pet owl disappearing from his line of sight. Only to be replaced with a still image. A photograph it seemed. The image was of, Harry suspected, Hogwarts, but the amount of flames covering it made it look more like a slaughter house then anything. The Boy-who-lived began to hear screams, pleas for assistance. Then a roaring voice rang into ears as if Uncle Vernon himself was yelling at the top of his lungs right next to a half-asleep individual.

“Weren't you supposed to be Dumbledore's man through and through?!” The voice sounded rather … odd to Harry. For it sounded like a handful of people, of both genders, were yelling the same thing at the exact same time. “Where were you when this happened?!”

“Harry!” This voice was by itself, very familiar. So familiar that Harry could hardly believe his ears.

He opened his eyes and cried out the memorable name. “Ginny!” He rose from his bed, expecting to see the red haired girl lying next to him and that she would proceed to comfort him immediately.

“Ginny's not here, Harry.” Hermione Granger said bluntly. The Boy-who-lived could not hide his disappointment; he lay back on his bed. The brown haired girl laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, smiling at him with an air of sadness and pity around her. “But I know she's thinking of you, Harry.”

The emerald eyed boy smiled at her, wordlessly thanking her for the comfort.

“You want to talk about it?” Hermione asked conversationally, removing her hand from Harry's shoulder and adjusting her seat on the edge of his bed. Harry sighed, knowing that he would have to verbalize his daily reveries sometime in the future anyway.

The Boy-who-lived took both of his hands and, with another long sigh, sent them through his hair as if he were cleansing it during a shower. “They're … new….” He said in a whisper, staring at his blanketed feet blankly while his two hands fell to either side of the bed soundlessly.

“The nightmares?”

Harry nodded, shutting his eyes. “D - Dumbledore … Ginny…. You and Ron….” Harry found he couldn't choke any other coherent word out of his oesophagus. He felt the sobs coming, and then the tears came pouring out of his closed eyes, seeping through the small line, past his eyelashes. He felt Hermione's arms hold him, while she whispered soothing words, not that Harry could actually hear them, but merely the sound of her voice brought his sanity to a healthy level.

He brought his hands up and grabbed her tightly, bringing her so close that Ron would have brought out the good ol' Avada Kedavra on poor old Harry.

Moments passed wordlessly, while Harry released all the tension that had been building up for the entire summer and Hermione continued to comfort her as best as she could. “Its okay, Harry….” He heard his best friend whisper peacefully, whilst she continued to run her hands all around his back. Harry found himself liking this feeling very much, much more than Ron would have liked anyway.

“Her - Hermione….” He said, wanting to banish the feeling. The, normally on-the-ball Hermione Granger, gave a quiet “oh,” of surprise and let go, moving back to a suitable distance between two friends, or at least, suitable by Ron's standards. She was now standing next to Harry's desk, absently petting his sleeping owl through the golden bars of her cage. “I'm sorry, Hermione….”

She turned around, looking hardly surprised at how he looked. “It's alright; you tend to bubble up your feelings, I'm just glad I heard you while I was going to the loo.” Harry cocked his head in confusion.

“I - I was making noise…?” He asked incredulously, the feeling of Hermione pressed against him, comforting him, momentarily forgotten.

Hermione nodded, stepping forward slightly. Harry rose to make room for her beside him and she smiled, sliding in beside him easily. Harry admired how comfortable she seemingly was, for Harry's heart was now hammering against his ribs. “Ron's told me that you tend to mutter whenever you're having a nightmare.”

“Oh … R - Ron told you that.” The Boy-who-lived stated, looking away from her.

“Yes he did. He's always told me that he's worried about you.” Harry found his head turning back to her automatically. “I am too as a matter of fact. A typical day seems to go by like this: you wake up first, you prepare breakfast for the Dursleys, Ron and I. You're finished your own breakfast when I wake up, merely muttering a “morning,” to me, and go off on your own. You never even see Ron all day; I doubt the two of you have made any eye contact over the past week.” She said in a couple of breaths.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. “You've rehearsed this conversation haven't you?” He said with a grin. Harry found himself staring at his best friend's own smile grow with every second.

“Yes!” She said between laughs, but then her laughter stopped and her tone was much sharper. “Yes, I did. I'm getting tired of you doing all the planning, Harry. You're not even supposed to leave here until your birthday, I - I tired to follow you once and I think you must've noticed since you apparated away as soon as I caught up to you.”

Harry sighed and looked back at his blanketed feet once more, finding them easier to stare at then Hermione.

“Look, Harry.” Her voice was a lot less critical now; it was reminiscent of her soothing tones from earlier. “The Ministry will b-”

“Oh, fuck the Ministry.” Harry found himself saying automatically, whipping his hand through the air as if slamming his hand on a table. Harry didn't know whether the Wizarding World would be better off with Fudge, or Scrimgeour.

“NO, Harry, the Ministry fucks you!” The acclaimed Chosen one jumped and surprised himself by gasping; it was unusual for a member of female sex to swear, let alone Hermione. Harry dared to look at her, and found her quite the piece of artwork. Her hair was electrifying and her cheeks were rosy pink, flushed with anger. “Scrimgeour wants you to be their propaganda campaign, Fudge wants you to mess up and Voldemort wants you to come to him easily so he can deal with the fucking world without even blinking an eye. You'll be playing right into all of their hands if you go off on your own, Harry!

“Ron and I are here for a fucking reason, Harry.” She paused, breathing raggedly for a couple of seconds. When she spoke again, her tone was much more pleasant and softer, though Harry could hear it as clear as her yells from earlier. “You're … you know you need us. You know that don't you?”

Harry didn't know what to say, his mouth continued to open and close as if he had suddenly become a fish. He raised his hands to his face, pressing his palms against his cheeks; checking to see if he had gills like he did way back in the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament in his fourth year. “I - I need you to stay alive.” It was true, just like with Ginny. He could wait for happiness; he had to deal with the problem at hand, the problem of Lord Voldemort and him being bound by that stupid prophecy.

Hermione gave out a dry laugh. “That's rich, Harry, simply rich. Ron and I will probably rip each others' heads off by the time you're finished finding one Horcrux by yourself.” Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he just continued to listen to Hermione's soliloquy. “Don't … don't you ever forget that we need you too, Harry.”

Now the Boy-who-lived was truly sputtering his thoughts. “Wh - what?”

The brown haired Muggle born girl laughed dryly again. “You're the hero, Harry. I know I'm probably the last person who you thought would say this to you, but you're the one who will win, Harry.” She paused for a moment, knowing that Harry was letting it all sink into his gut. “You're the one who'll be beat him, not Ron, Ginny, or me.”

“You'd probably do better than me….” Harry found himself saying automatically. Hermione laughed cheerfully at this, her dry one but a memory now. Hermione merely shrugged with a half smile on her moonlit face.

A comfortable silence ensued, in which the two friends were both thinking about the discussion they just participated in. Hermione's soliloquy brought the many memories the short holiday had already brought onto Harry. Hermione and Ron had decided, while the three of them were snacking on the trolley's arsenal of candy in their cosy compartment on the Hogwarts express, that they would join Harry at Privet Drive. There, they would begin to contemplate the many things which needing serious thought.

Ron was going to attend Bill and Fleur's wedding, Harry and Hermione both politely declined, both feeling that they were merely intruding in the Weasleys' happiness. That, and they were worried about whatever Fred and George had cooked up for the wedding.

Hermione was merely reading as much as she could within Privet Drive. Occasionally, she would go to Hogwarts after telling Harry that she was going somewhere for the day, and return with a stack of books. Harry, at one point, asked her what exactly she was looking for, but she merely smiled and looked back at her book, saying that she was looking for anything relating to the Dark Arts. Harry couldn't help but think that was a rather broad topic, and he knew that she was quite frustrated with the lack of results.

Harry was taking charge of the hunt. He searched for anyone related to Dumbledore, demanding any information they had relating to the Horcruxes and his suspicions of what, and where, they might be. More than once, he had run into several Death Eaters who had tracked him and eliminated the person Harry was seeking. He would return from those, dishevelled and drained, no doubt from running to a safe apparition point as quickly as possible. The only person Harry would ever see after one of those encounters was Hermione. He would find her on his bed, reading a book while having a couple of earphones in her ears, playing soft, melodic, classical music. Harry would catch her attention and thank her, sometimes he would tell her where he had gone, or what he had been looking for. But those were rare occasions, most of the time they just played out with Hermione leaving his room silently, returning to the guest room she shared with Ron.

“You okay?” Hermione asked softly after a minute of stillness. Harry nodded immediately, far too used to the question. “No you're not.” He smiled at this, remembering Hagrid saying the same thing to him.

“I will be though.” He on purposely incited eye contact between the two of them, still smiling, “I'm … I'm sorry, Hermione. I just wanted … you know….” He looked away uncomfortably while Hermione watched on, not in the least bothered by his awkward speech.

“Go on….” She coaxed soothingly.

With a heavy sigh, Harry did as she asked. “I don't mean to … you know … ignore you two or whatever. It - I … it's just, you two are er … together and all.” Harry didn't dare look at her face, knowing that it was coated in a splatter of red, as his was too no doubt. “You know, you don't have to … to be he-”

“The hell we don't!” Her anger had returned, unfortunately for Harry. “Don't you ever listen to me?! Ron and I will probably rip each others' heads off by the time you're finished finding one Horcrux by yourself!”

“I - I didn't think you were serious….” Hermione snorted and Harry couldn't help but feel quite scared by this new Hermione emerging seemingly out of nowhere; angry and blunt, rather than the compassionate and understanding version of the golden brown haired girl from earlier.

“This is exactly what's making me so … so angry! I'm tired of you and Ron treating me … treating me … like someone n - not worth any attention! I'm so fucking tired of it, Harry!” Harry admitted, at that exact moment, that he had to be the most self-centred person on the face of the Earth, just hearing Hermione confess so angrily like this made him feel lousy, and deflated. “Where would you be if you ... you didn't rescue me from the t-troll….” She paused; no doubt remembering just how much fear how engulfed her when she was facing the troll. “What would have happened to you then?” Her eyes were brimming with tears, Harry felt even more deflated by the realization that all he seemed to do for Hermione was make her cry.

No wonder why she likes Ron better than me. He couldn't help thinking.

“H - Hermione…. I'm … I'm so sorry.” He couldn't think of anything else to say, honestly, and by her expression, Harry suspected that she wished for more then that. “But … but can you really blame me? I've been running from Death Eaters all my life….” Harry felt that was a sufficient enough argument, Hermione shrugged, looking away from him.

She rose from the bed suddenly and Harry couldn't help but wonder why she was leaving so suddenly. “Where're you going?” He blurted out. Hermione turned back to him, smiling slightly at him.

“We'll talk more tomorrow, but I'm tired now…. And if Ron weren't fast asleep, he'd probably be wondering what I was up to.” With a stifled yawn, and a short stretch of many different limbs and muscles, Hermione left Harry with a short, yet oddly sweet, good night.

Within moments, Harry was fast asleep, his dreams oddly … normal for a teenager. Fleeting visions of Ron and Hermione wearing golden crowns with glittering jewels visible on every single piece of flesh on them, even their teeth were glinting as if multiple jewels were drilled into them. They seemed so happy, so damn blissful, how Harry wished he could be just as happy.

Then, with an ear splitting screech, the figures of Ron and Hermione dissolved, their seemingly magnificent throne room disappearing as well, only to be replaced by a canyon with an eerie mist surrounding it. The sky, from what Harry could see, was full of dark rain clouds, though there were two holes in the huge clouds where he could see a swirling black hole. One hole was shaped in the familiar outline of Dumbledore's head, with a tall, yet slightly askew, hat. The other was shaped in Sirius's, messy hair cutting into the clouds around the hole.

“You see them.” Harry froze at the sound of the peculiar voice. He rose from the ground, not remembering ever falling from anything and looked around him; soon he spotted the owner of the voice. And his heart skipped.

“You are surprised to see me.” Ginny Weasley said in a voice that didn't belong to her. Her once magnificent flaming hair was now replaced by, what looked like, worms dangling from her scalp. Her face was without any freckles, and instead of soft and pure looking white skin, it was fairly pale. Harry couldn't figure out how he knew she was Ginny, for the … creature standing in front of him looked nothing like his ex-girlfriend.

“You have not figured out what I am now. Even though you know that I am greater than you in many ways.” Ginny said flatly, she stood rooted on the spot, the mist around her swirling around her feet.

“Wh - what?” Harry stuttered, finding the volume of his voice quite inferior to Ginny's.

“You see the many mistakes within your life. You do not wish to see anymore.” Harry was getting tired of the many statements the creature was making. “Yet I am going to show you more, Harry. Your past is full of mistakes and you need to fully acknowledge them.”

The same ear splitting screech filled Harry's ears yet again, and he shouted out in pain, feeling his knees crumbling beneath him, Ginny swam out of view just as Ron and Hermione had.

~*~

With a sharp stab from his scar, Harry awoke from his, quote on quote, nightmare. Up till now, Harry had understood what all his nightmares meant. Cedric's death, his parents' deaths, Sirius falling through the veil and, of course, one cannot forget about Albus Dumbledore's. Harry rose from his lying position on his bed and to a sitting position on the edge of it. This nightmare felt different to him, it left him feeling … cold and unnatural. He absently blew air from a small hole between his lips and ran both hands through his messy raven black hair.

Harry was ripped away from his thoughts by a quiet tapping noise from his window; an unfamiliar owl hovered beyond the threshold, repeatedly knocking his talons against the glass. Harry hastily opened the window for the owl. The proud looking great horned owl flew in and landed on Harry's bed, settling on the soft blanket. The owl extended his leg, revealing a small letter. The Boy-who-lived quickly retrieved the letter, his heart pounding at the sight of the familiar Hogwarts emblem plastered on the envelope.

“Why … why would they be sending them now?” Harry whispered out loud, forgetting about the letter for a moment. “Or is this one somehow … different?” He opened the letter easily and quickly, his eyes scanning for the answers he lusted for.

Mr. Potter,

This is without a doubt the first letter I have ever written to a student that isn't relating to their education. I recently put up a life size portrait of Albus Dumbledore in his office, which did not speak at all until today where upon he coughed up a large amount of blood. The transition from life in the real world, through death and into the life of a portrait is not the easiest of things in the world, Potter. For now, Albus has merely spoke of light subjects, no doubt waiting till he regains his full strength to tell the actual tale of his hunt for the Horcruxes.

Yes, Potter, he has informed me of the Horcruxes. I am honoured that he felt that it was necessary for me to know it. Also, the Ministry has come to an agreement to open the doors to Hogwarts once more, and even though you are hunting for these vile instruments, I still feel it necessary to ask for your return to Hogwarts.

Why, you ask? Well, other than the fact that you and Miss Granger are clearly two of the most talented people to have entered the school, you and Miss Granger were to inherit the positions of Head Boy and Head Girl respectively. If you were to not attend, I would find it most difficult to choose any other people for the positions.

I await your answer Mr. Potter,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding