Harry Potter and Ill Fated Karma

Harry Potter and Ill fated Karma

Summary:

After the events of their sixth year, Harry, Ron and Hermione set off 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.

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

Genre:

Action/Adventure and Romance. Classic stuff

Author's Note:

A tad short, but here's the third chapter!

Chapter Three:

To Us Heroes

Production at any price
Admiration of those who earn
With blood on their hands
We will never learn

Heroes to us - Kalmah

“Hold still, Harry! If you keep squirming I'll hurt you even more….” Harry moaned in his unconscious state, writhing a bit around his bedspread, attempting to find a more comfortable position. “Oh, by Merlin, Harry!”

“S - Sorry…. It's just … weird, you know?” Harry saw Hermione nod from her hovering position above him. She continued to dab the cloth to his forehead, sending even more pain through all his nerves. “What the hell is in that cloth?” Harry asked, hoping Hermione's lecture on the properties of the cloth would distract him from the pain.

“Remember, Harry? I told you earlier, it's a potion Ron conjured up. It's supposed to help with the pain.” She turned away from Harry to glare at Ron for a moment. “I … I thought he did it adequately, but it seems like it's hurting you more than anything!”

Ron backed away from the bed because of the glare, soon reaching the wall across from it, ending up next to Hedwig, who was nibbling on a dead rat. “I - I put in everything you told me to put in, Hermione!”

“Did you let it sit for five minutes after dropping the Bubotuber pus in the cauldron?” Ron shifted uncomfortably while Hedwig ripped the rat's head off, creating a loud tearing noise that seemed to say: screwed. Hermione sighed slightly, taking off the wet cloth from Harry's forehead and shrugged at him.

“Look, mate … I'm … I'm sorry.”

“D - Don't worry…. Ron…. I'm fine.” Harry attempted to rise from his splayed position, though he couldn't help but cringe at the pain that shot through his entire body from his forehead. “It was just … me … stupid me.”

It was well past daybreak, yet Harry could barely make out Hermione's frame let alone the spectacle of the sun rising through the light blue sky. He sighed, remembering how he got into the encumbered position.

Harry had just shown both of his friends the letter he received from McGonagall, realizing that Hermione also received one almost identical to his own. Together, they woke up Ron and went to the kitchen to discuss the letters together.

“Yet another reason to go back there, Harry.” Hermione said anxiously as the Boy-who-lived sighed, turned on his heel and shoved both of his hands into his long black hair, messing it up even more than it already was. He begun to pace around the small kitchen in the Dursleys' residence while both Hermione and Ron watched him worriedly, hoping he wasn't going to burst out any second.

“Look … look, mate.” Ron said tentatively, but he paused when Harry wheeled upon him, flashing his eyes madly. “I - I don't know what you're getting all … all fuss-”

Harry blew up then. “Would you want to go back there, Ron? Would you want to go back to the place you saw … saw … Dumbledore die at?!” Harry growled in frustration, resuming his pacing around the kitchen floor.

“H - Harry,” Hermione said softly, halting Harry's pacing for a moment. “First off … calm down. We won't solve anything by getting angry at each other!” The trueness in this didn't stop Harry from blowing another fuse off of his sanity by kicking the screen door that served as the threshold between the kitchen and the garden of the Dursley residence. He watched it shattered around his foot while Hermione screamed out something incoherent.

“WHAT THE RUDDY HELL ARE YOU DOING, BOY?!” Another growl of frustration came from Harry at the familiar shouting from his uncle, who was currently stomping down the staircase, no doubt awakening the entire neighbourhood if Harry didn't already. Vernon stomped into the kitchen, no source of light surrounding him so Harry couldn't see the generic purple faced angry expression of Vernon Dursley. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, BOY?!”

He resumed his stamping charge towards Harry, but Hermione sighed quite heavily and loud, Harry watched her flick her wand lazily and Vernon suddenly halted, his arms and legs clasped to his body, sending him to the ground. A tremor shook the kitchen floor for a second, Harry automatically grabbed for Hermione, bracing her fall.

“Nice one,” he muttered to her after he let go of her. She smiled at him nervously, it seemed as though she was still a bit uncomfortable with attacking people in general, no matter how villainous they acted.

“VERNON!” Hermione's smile disappeared at the sound of the familiar shrill call that signalled Petunia Dursley's arrival. She rushed to her husband's bound body and felt for a pulse, although she could undoubtedly feel one; that didn't stop her from shouting at Harry, Ron and Hermione. “What … did you do to him?!” She screamed. Ron cringed prominently from the sound of her shouting; Harry couldn't help but snort slightly. Seeing as he was usually on the receiving end of one of Mrs. Weasley's shouting rampages nowadays.

“Aunt Petunia….” Harry begun nervously, he pushed Hermione behind him, hoping that she wouldn't take the blame for everything.

“YOU FREAKS! WE'VE KEPT YOU, BOY, IN THIS HOUSE FOR SIXTEEN YEARS AND THIS … THIS IS HOW YOU THANK US? BRINGING … FIRST SCARING OFF ALL THE NEIGHBOURS … THEN BRINGING A GIANT OAF … NOW YOU'RE BRINGING LUNATICS TO THE HOU-” Harry couldn't remember ever letting go of Hermione, all he knew was that he was rushing at Petunia Dursley, preparing to harm her in anyway possible.

“H - Harry!” He heard Hermione shout, but he chose to ignore it and continue his pursuit towards Petunia, the older woman looked rather frightened, she was backing away slowly towards the wall behind her, reaching for anything that can serve as a weapon against the angered Harry.

“LUNATICS?!” Harry shouted; all the glass around him shattering into millions of pieces. “YOU, PETUNIA DURSLEY, ARE CALLING HERMIONE GRANGER AND RON WEASLEY; LUNATICS?!”

“Harry, stop this now!” Hermione rushed forward, shielding his aunt from his rage. “You … you have absolutely no idea what you're doing!”

Harry laughed bitterly, shoving Hermione out of his way, though she stumbled slightly, Harry didn't realize that her spirit was crushed more than anything. “I know exactly what I'm doing. It's about time I do something about the actual lunatics here!”

Before Harry could actually reach his aunt to cause any damage to her, all light around Privet Drive vanished, even the moonlight fingering through the broken glass seemed to disappear. The silence that echoed the sudden darkness seemed rather eerie, but then, after listening to his own breath for far too long, the world around Harry lit up again and he found himself looking up at Hermione Granger with his head pounding painfully.

“Her … Hermione…?” The Boy-who-lived said, finding his tone very raspy. She quickly shushed him and continued to dab a wet cloth to his forehead.

“Ron's making a potion right now. It should help in easing the pain.” The coldness from the cloth soothed Harry as he shut his eyes and entered a blissful realm of his own.

“What happened to me?” He asked, disliking his tone.

If Harry's eyes weren't shut, he would have seen Hermione shrug. “I'm not exactly sure. One second you were charging at you aunt, and then you were on the floor … cl - clutching your scar.”

This remark was replied with a long pause on Harry's part. Usually he remembered the pain from one of his “scar moments.” Harry shook his head, knocking the cloth Hermione was dabbing against his forehead off it. Hermione looked momentarily puzzled, but Harry held up a hand and attempted to rise from his lying position.

“You … you don't think this is from Voldemort, do you?” Harry asked, pressing a hand against his scar, which was burning quite prominently.

Hermione shrugged. “I don't know, you've told us before that you … your feelings are linked with you-kn … Voldemort's.” Hermione paused for a moment, attempting the grasp the name once more, it seemed as though she was still getting used to saying the name. “He … he, well, could have been extremely angry at the same time you were attempting to confront your aunt.”

Harry sighed, once more bringing his hands up to his hair. He lay back down on his rock hard bed, finding himself very uncomfortable. “This is not what we need….”

“Look … Harry.” Hermione started softly, causing him to lower his hands and look at her with a concerned expression. “This may answer … well, a couple of questions we have.”

“Like?” The Boy-who-lived said sharply, Hermione did not look discouraged though; she prowled on with her explanation.

“Like whether or not we return to Hogwarts.” Harry sighed and shut his eyes with a groan of frustration. “No, Harry … Harry, hear me out. If you're ... acting like this to Vo - Voldemort's presence within your mind…. Maybe … just maybe, you're not….”

“You're saying that I'm not fit enough to hunt for these Horcruxes?” Harry suggested, looking at her with raised eyebrows. She nodded. “Hermione, Dumbledore and I already discovere-”

“NO, Harry, no you didn't! It was a fake remember? Maybe your connection with Voldemort isn't … isn't a good thing.” Hermione paused, looking rather depressed.

Harry took a long amount of time to reflect on the revelations Hermione had proposed, while she calmly picked up the cloth once more, soaked it up in a nearby basin of water and continued to pat it against his forehead.

How could Harry fight against Dumbledore's killer if he couldn't even get near him without searing pain striking at him? Not for the first time in his life, Harry cursed his scar silently, because of this connection with Voldemort; Hermione was proposing that they would all return to Hogwarts and research from there rather then acting now, which seemed to be the best decision to Harry at this moment.

“Oh, Ron!” Hermione said, bringing Harry out of his reverie. “Put them here, on this table.” Ron nodded from the doorway, bringing a couple of vials of the potion Hermione asked him to brew. He placed them where Hermione had asked him to and she took one lightly, shaking it slightly, mumbling under her breath.

“Is it okay…?” Ron asked, no doubt unsure of his own potion proficiency.

“Seems alright, it's supposed to be …” Hermione fished through the textbook next to her for a moment. “… A bright yellow colour, the one we've got here isn't that bright, you must have just done something little.” Hermione smiled up at Ron, pressing her lips to his cheek for a moment before carefully dumping a small portion of the vial's contents onto the wet cloth. She placed the vial down and let the cloth soak up the potion before pressing it to Harry's forehead once more.

Harry screamed out in pain when the cloth made contact with his scar, his eyes turned blurry as the shooting pain scurried throughout his body at high speeds. Hermione, frightened by this, stepped back with a puzzled expression.

“Look … Harry, its bound … bound to hurt, but please….” Harry nodded, apologizing for his outburst with a mumble. Tentatively, Hermione returned to cloth to his forehead, where upon he promptly hissed at the pain. He moved for a more comfortable position on the bed when Hermione, in turn, hissed at him.

“Hold still, Harry! If you keep squirming I'll hurt you even more….” Harry moaned in his unconscious state, writhing a bit around his bedspread, attempting to find a more comfortable position. “Oh, by Merlin, Harry!”

“S - Sorry…. It's just … weird, you know?” Harry saw Hermione nod from her hovering position above him. She continued to dab the cloth to his forehead, sending even more pain through all his nerves. “What the hell is in that cloth anyway?” Harry asked, hoping Hermione's lecture on the properties of the cloth would distract him from the pain.

“Remember, Harry? I told you earlier, it's a potion Ron conjured up. It's supposed to help with the pain.” She turned away from Harry to glare at Ron for a moment. “I … I thought he did it adequately, but it seems like it's hurting you more than anything!”

Ron backed away from the bed because of the glare, soon reaching the wall across from it, ending up next to Hedwig, who was nibbling on a dead rat. “I - I put in everything you told me to put in, Hermione!”

“Did you let it sit for five minutes after dropping the Bubotuber pus in the cauldron?” Ron shifted uncomfortably while Hedwig ripped the rat's head off, creating a loud tearing noise that seemed to say: screwed. Hermione sighed slightly, taking off the wet cloth from Harry's forehead and shrugged at him.

“Look, mate … I'm … I'm sorry.”

“D - Don't worry…. Ron…. I'm fine.” Harry attempted to rise from his splayed position, though he couldn't help but cringe at the pain that shot through his entire body from his forehead. “It was just … me … stupid me.”

Harry hissed once more as Hermione gripped the cloth properly. “I've never liked using Bubotuber pus, ever since….”

“Those hate letters?” Harry suggested and she nodded a sad expression on her face. “Luckily, this is the diluted version, but I'm surprised it's hurting you this much. Even with Ron's mistake.”

“Look, you were acting impatient!” Ron said defensively. “I wanted to finish it quickly enough for yo-”

“Acting impatient?!” Hermione dropped the cloth onto Harry's head, letting his head soak up the vile liquid, much to his displeasure. “How am I acting impatient?”

“Well, right now, you told me, specifically, to do it as quickly as possible! You never let me take my ti-”

Hermione snorted, placing her hands on her hips. “Did you stop listening after that, Ron? I quote from myself: do it as quickly as possible, while following the instructions carefully. Apparently you didn't follow the potion's, or my own, instructions at all!” Harry cringed for the tenth time since his two friends' argument begun, and not because of the argument itself.

“See what I mean? Hey, Harry! It appears as though our good friend here, Hermione, does not wish to acknowledge the fucking time I put into that damn potion!” With a huff of frustration, Hermione turned away from her supposed boyfriend, back to Harry, who she noticed immediately, was not looking too well.

“Th - thanks….” Harry wheezed after Hermione had rushed over and removed the cloth. “I - I tried calling out….”

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry….” The witch said softly, running a hand over his scar.

His world then promptly faded into blackness.