Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Jo does. HBP would've turned out differently if I did. And I wouldn't be writing this.
Hey everyone. Thought I'd write this to thank everyone for reading this and Harry Potter and the Beginning if you did. If you didn't, then please do. It might help you understand this story.
I'm going to introduce a new character in the next chapter. He's going to help Harry immensely with training and the prophecy. We'll also find out about the truth behind his `other sense'.
Please remember that this story is written and told in the 21st century and doesn't take place in the early 90's as Harry Potter and CoS does. This is darker, hopefully.
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He could hear the swish of their black cloaks and their soft chanting was slowly increasing in volume. Anytime soon they would be finished, he could feel it, could smell their anxiety. His vision was blurred momentarily as thick black smoke engulfed him and then a scream rent the air, filling him with burning elation but also horrifying agony.
He suddenly sprung up from his bed and snatched his wand from his bedside cabinet. His eyes immediately darted around the small room for some sign of disturbance but he found nothing. Everything was still and he couldn't hear a sound over his laboured breathing. The street light outside was illuminating his room slightly with a soft glow that didn't penetrate his eyes. After a few moments of silence he let out a deep sigh at the realisation that he was once again having a nightmare. But something in the back of his mind warned him not to forget it.
In the past few weeks life had certainly changed for the now twelve year old Harry Potter. He had been brought back into the muggle world for his safety but he knew it wouldn't last. He felt helpless while stuck in the muggle world. Mrs. Figg was very kind to him and treated him like a lodger which he was very grateful for. But he still felt the absence of magic and as he was forbidden to practice magic outside school he had no choice other than to read up on spells and enchantments. Research became his main theme over the summer. His birthday had passed by uneventfully. Mrs. Figg had bought him a small muffin to celebrate and she had even lit a candle. But the lack of birthday presents or traditions wasn't what was upsetting Harry. He hadn't heard from his best friend, Hermione Granger, all summer.
He had not received any letters, even after he told Hedwig to go find her. Hedwig had returned with ruffled feathers and a very disgruntled near fearful look in her deep eyes. This also was playing on Harry's mind as he began to worry whether Hedwig had been attacked by a bird or another creature.
Sighing heavily in defeat he trudged over to the open window and snapped it shut. He had kept it open in fruitless hope that he might be sent a letter. Plopping onto his bed he held his head in his hands waiting for the dizziness he was experiencing to leave. He had had that horrible dream more than once now. Each time he awoke frightened of what lay in the darkness. He found himself checking Mrs. Figg was alright, making sure she hadn't been attacked. His powerlessness left him feeling weak and defenceless. If the house was attacked, there wasn't much he could do other than to distract the attackers.
But he didn't even know what would attack. He didn't know how to fight what was coming. Because something was coming. That was definite. It gave reason for the nightmares which haunted him. For the insecurity he felt when he left the house. He found himself on edge most of the time, wondering if some vile creature was going to strike at any moment. Mrs. Figg had noticed his odd behaviour over the last few weeks. His keen eyes were ever zooming through books or he stayed silent beside the window, his eyes searching the outside world.
Harry returned his head to his pillow. He had been researching as much as he could on prophecies and their consequences. But the information available was so little as the main people privy to prophecies are those who foretold them and those who heard them. So not much was accounted for, especially in the books he could get hold of. Soon he would be returning to Hogwarts where he had doubts the school library could tell him much more about prophecies.
There was absolutely no doubt that his meeting with Voldemort had shaken him. His life, his path was now laid out before him. And he would have to follow it to whatever end.
Waking up some hours later he noticed the dim voices coming from downstairs. Mrs. Figg wasn't known for having guests in the early hours of the morning. Harry had seen very few people in the house during his stay. He dressed quickly and picked up his wand, placing it in his back pocket. He made his way steadily onto the landing. For some reason he knew instantly that there was nothing threatening in the house. The voices downstairs seemed low and hushed, not something usually seen as violent. Creeping down to the last step of the carpeted stair he listened to the whispers emanating from the kitchen.
"There's something amiss with him. He's a very alert young boy but now I think this is a bit too much. He barely sleeps and when he does, he must have awful nightmares...I've heard him moaning, sometimes screaming. I just hope he can try and recover from his dealings with You-Know-Who." Mrs Figg's voice seemed very tense and agitated.
"Well it takes some time to get over such a terrible encounter," answered a male voice. Harry didn't recognize the voice. He edged closer to the door in order to hear the rest of the conversation. He didn't like eavesdropping but as the conversation seemed to be about him he felt a natural curiosity. "…I hear he is a strong character. From what Professor Dumbledore has told me, I think he'll recover quite well. Though you may sometimes see him as an adult, you must remember, he is twelve years old."
There was a sigh of resignation from Mrs. Figg and Harry heard the kettle starting to whistle. "So how are you, Remus?"
"I can't complain. Tired, but that's to be expected in my condition," the man ended somewhat bitterly. Harry stood up realising that now he was definitely eavesdropping. He made his way cautiously into the old kitchen. It wasn't very modern and completely different to the one Aunt Petunia had created for Privet Drive. The main colour theme was brown and the presses were missing doors and had eternal stains imprinted onto them.
The two people who occupied the kitchen looked slightly taken aback when Harry seemed to appear out of nowhere. Mrs. Figg was standing beside the counter and after greeting Harry returned to making the tea. Harry's eyes made their way to the person sitting at the large round table which took up most of the room in the kitchen. The man looked exhausted as if he had just recovered from an illness. He was dressed in very shabby attire which was covered with a long patched trench coat. His face would have seemed quite gaunt had he not been wearing a kind smile. Even though he looked young his hair was flecked with grey. His brown eyes told Harry that this man had seen a lot of dangerous times that were well beyond anyone's years.
As Harry looked at the man an unknown silence came upon the room. It seemed as if both Harry and the man were seeing more than what was before their eyes. Then a voice interrupted their thoughts. "Harry, this is Remus Lupin. He was a friend of your fathers."
Harry stopped slightly and after a moment of reflection he stretched out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Lupin," he said quietly. Lupin smiled and shook his head while shaking Harry's hand. "Please call me Remus. There's no need to be so formal." Harry took the seat opposite the man.
"So what brings you here?" Harry asked, curious to know what would bring a sick wizard into the muggle world. Lupin looked quite taken aback but immediately recovered. "Well to check on you. Make sure you're recovering."
Harry shook his head, his insecurity increasing. "Why shouldn't I be?" he said bluntly. He was growing terse and the feeling that something was going on behind his back, under someone else's supervision, wasn't helping his anger. "Well for one you haven't been bathing your wound which, if left unchecked, would undoubtedly result in an infection," Lupin replied coolly indicating the back of Harry's right hand. Harry immediately dropped his gaze to his own hand and covered it with his sleeve. The wound which had been inflicted by Quirrell's knife was still very visible. He hadn't had it checked by Madam Pomfrey as he had been advised to do before leaving Hogwarts for the summer.
"Harry, I'm not a threat. You don't have to protect yourself against me. I'm here on Professor Dumbledore's orders. He wants to make sure you're fit and ready to return to school in two weeks time." Lupin seemed to be giving him time to let the words sink in.
"What do you mean Dumbledore's orders? Are you the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Harry inquired. Lupin immediately grew uncomfortable. "Er…no. I work for Professor Dumbledore rarely. But under the circumstances there wasn't anyone else who could check on you. Also we have to make a trip to Diagon Alley to get your new books and supplies," he finished.
"I'm sorry if I seem rude. I just don't like having the truth held from me," Harry apologized, slightly ashamed at his continuous barrage of questions. In return Lupin let out a short laugh. "Nobody does. I assure you. Why don't you go and get ready? We'll be leaving shortly."
Harry made his way up the stairs and opened his bedroom door to be filled with a sense of suspicion. He stood framed in the doorway, his hand remaining on the doorknob. A breeze caught his face and he turned to see the window, which was previously shut, now ajar. Suddenly he heard a dry sob coming from under his bed. Then a spindly hand could be seen from under the bed and soon Harry was staring at a short creature with large bat like ears and enormous ears. The creature was obviously sobbing and every now and again Harry heard it hiccup.
The creature was wearing what appeared to be a dirty old rag for clothes. Its large green eyes were filled with tears which made Harry enter his room and shut the door behind him. Also the obvious blood stains on the creature's hands and rags made Harry think that the creature had suffered abuse. Plucking up the courage Harry decided to begin the conversation. "You're a house-elf, right?" he asked as politely as he could. He had read about the creatures which had entered into the servitude of wizards many years ago.
The creature looked up at Harry with wonder in his eyes. His sobbing ceased and then he bowed graciously with a loud `yes sir'. Harry made his way carefully into the room. "May I ask what you are doing here? Are you running away from the family whom you serve?" He had good reason to, thought Harry.
Once again the house-elf began to sob and Harry saw horrible fear in the creature's eyes. "No, sir. Dobby is forbidden to do so, sir. He will suffer much for coming here and leaving his family, even for a small amount of time."
"Well Dobby," Harry started with mock cheer, trying to calm him down. "Why are you here?"
"Dobby must warn Harry Potter," the creature began. His voice was no longer feeble but had grown to an almost commanding tone. "Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
A deafening silence answered these words. Harry felt as if he had missed something very important. "I'm sorry. I think I misheard you," he said, knowing full well he had heard every last syllable.
"Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dobby repeated.
"Well, that's kind of hard to do considering I'm a student there and all my friends are there…"
"Friends who don't send Harry Potter any mail or any presents," said Dobby, as if accusing Harry's friends of treason.
Something clicked in Harry's mind. "Now, how would you know I haven't received any mail?' he said, knowing the answer.
Dobby immediately started sobbing again. It was a pitiful sight which seemed to dissipate Harry's anger. "Harry Potter must not be angry at Dobby, Sir. But he thought if Harry Potter thought that his friends had forgotten him, he would not wish to return to Hogwarts."
"Dobby, what's going to happen? Why are you doing this?" Harry said intensely.
"There is a danger at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Witchcraft this year that has not faced the school in over half a century. No power can stand against it. It is stirring as we speak. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."
Harry just stood astonished. Was this what the nightmares were about? It answered a lot of questions if it was. "Dobby," Harry said kneeling down beside the frightened house-elf who was now shaking from some internal battle. "Does this have something to do with Voldemort?"
Dobby immediately screwed his eyes up and wincing, placed his hands over his enormous ears. "Do not speak His name! He who brought so much evil and suffering."
Harry needed answers. "Is it him?!"
Dobby immediately started banging his head off Harry's wooden, very solid floor. "I'll take that as a yes," said Harry quietly. He grabbed Dobby and lifted him onto his bed, where Dobby, obviously shocked at the behaviour of Harry towards him, stopped moving.
"I forbid you to hurt yourself," said Harry hoping it would work. Dobby didn't speak a word. He just remained still and silent. "Why are you telling me this if there is nothing I can do to stop it? Why are you warning me?" Harry demanded.
Slowly Dobby lifted his head to look into Harry's eyes. "Because, sir, you are Harry Potter. To House Elves, you are a saviour. If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returns, you must be far away. Far from danger and pain."
Harry sighed at Dobby's words. How could anybody or anything value one person's life over another? "How do you know about this? Where did you get your information?" Harry ordered.
Dobby immediately closed his mouth and placed his hands over his mouth. "Dobby, please," Harry pleaded. Realising Dobby wasn't going to budge Harry tried a different approach. "The ministry? A friend? Your family..." Dobby shut his eyes and shook his head.
"Who are your family, Dobby? Tell me…who are they?" Harry shouted grabbing his bony shoulders. Suddenly there was a creak on the stair outside and Harry immediately spun around when he heard Lupin's voice call. "Harry, are you alright?" There was a small crack and Harry turned around again to see he wasn't holding Dobby anymore, just thin air.
After a moment Harry opened his bedroom door to find a very confused Lupin. "Sorry, I could have sworn I heard someone talking."
"No, just me up here," Harry replied.
Harry grabbed a trench coat, a long green one which Mrs. Figg had given him, and some money which he had left over from his first trip to Gringotts, the wizard's bank located in Diagon Alley. This saved them from having to battle the crowds of people that were usually found in Gringotts.
"We'll take a portkey to our destination which will be the Leaky Cauldron. A portkey is an enchanted, usually inanimate, object that is used to transport people to other predestined areas," explained Lupin as they stepped into the kitchen. Mrs. Figg was preparing the cats food. There were six large bowls placed on the ground and empty tins remained on the counter.
"Do you want anything while we're in Diagon Alley?" Harry asked politely.
"Oh, no thank you dear. You two enjoy yourselves," Mrs. Figg chuckled.
"Will do," said Lupin lifting a cracked mug off the table. Harry, guessing this was the portkey, moved forward and placed a hand on the old object. "Three, two, one..." he heard Lupin say. Immediately Harry felt a pull behind his navel and felt his feet leave the ground. He seemed to watch the world spin before his eyes before he slammed into the ground again. His knees buckled under the shock force and he fell to the ground.
Lupin helped Harry to his feet. Harry immediately recognised the old shabby pub they had entered as The Leaky Cauldron, where he had stayed previous to attending Hogwarts.
"Shall we go to the Apothecary first?" asked Lupin. "You need to get new potion supplies, I presume. Also we might find something to heal that wound on your hand." Harry agreed and they made their way out into the little courtyard that held the entrance to Diagon Alley. Somebody had already opened the arch in the wall so they walked through it uneventfully.
As they made their way down the packed street in silence Harry searched the crowd for any suspicious signs. The talk with Dobby seemed to have awakened his senses mightily. But he was so focused on watching the other consumers at work that he didn't look where he was going and walked head on into to someone.
"Watch it, Potter," he heard someone drawl. He looked up to see Professor Snape, still in his black attire, wearing an idle and disinterested look upon his face.
"Are you alright?' Lupin asked worriedly as he came over to them. "Ah…Severus."
"Lupin," said Snape dangerously. Harry immediately knew there was something between Snape and Lupin. He could see that both men were withholding from saying something. The tension in the air seemed to grow and Harry took a deep breath as if bracing himself. Then Snape withdrew his glare from Lupin and turned to face Harry again. "Well?! What do you say?"
Harry hesitated a moment, his anger and hatred of Snape blinding him. But then he rationalised that he owed Snape after believing him to be a murderer. "Sorry," he said shortly.
"Sorry, Professor," Snape replied. Then he sighed dramatically. "Tut, how extraordinarily like James you are," he spat before striding off into the bustling crowd. Lupin watched Snape as he retreated down the street and turned to see Harry wearing a bewildered expression. "Who's James?" Harry asked in a puzzled voice. Harry turned to see the strange vacant expression on Lupin's face. He seemed to clear his throat before answering.
"Your father,' he said quietly as if the words pained him to say. Harry felt something rip in his heart as if he had just been impaled with a fresh new spear of pain. Everything seemed to stop for a few moments. Harry felt as if he was surrounded by glass as the sound around him immediately disappeared under a wave of thoughts. How had he gone through a year at Hogwarts without the knowledge of his parents names? He could've asked so many people, Hagrid, Dumbledore or some of the other professors. Before Hogwarts he had always wanted to know their names or anything about. More than what Aunt Petunia would have to remark about his father or insult his mother.
"Are you okay?" asked Lupin quietly. Harry seemed to come out of his reverie. "Er…yeah. I'm fine. Just…you know," he replied. Lupin nodded his head sympathetically. Harry noticed he looked uncomfortable. "Well we best get going. The quicker we start the faster we get home," Lupin tried cheerfully. He made to start down the street again but stopped when Harry asked "What was her name?"
A deep thoughtful look appeared on Lupin's features and he seemed to be remembering a different time. He stood frozen in the middle of the busy street contrasting with the constant movement of the crowd. Then he looked at Harry solemnly. "Lily. Lily Evans," he whispered.
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