Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter, and I can't see how you could think that fact could possibly change from last chapter. Same goes for the lyrics

A/N: Harry and Hermione may seem a bit out of character… all right, a lot out of character, but there's a reason for this, a reason that will become clearer as the story progresses. There's still a LONG way to go in this story, and the weirdness hasn't even begun. Things are going to get a lot worse for our pair before they get better, but I swear things will get better… so just pay attention to detail, sit back, and enjoy the ride. Even though I have a bunch of chapters written already, I'm going through each one before I upload, I always seem to find something I'm not happy with, but I guess I'm just anal like that.

Chapter 3: Rags To Riches To Rags

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Something's wrong, shut the light,
heavy thoughts tonight, and they aren't of snow white.
Dreams of war, dreams of liars,
dreams of dragon's fire, and of things that will bite.

Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight…

Excerpt from the song 'Enter Sandman' by Metallica.

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Harry nervously glanced around to see if any muggles happened to notice Hermione's rather abrupt disapparation. Thankfully, the street was nearly empty by that time, and those who heard the crack, just glanced around briefly searching for the source of the noise before returning to their own business.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and hastily dried his face with his sleeve. He looked down at the moneybag in his hand for a moment before stuffing it into his jacket pocket. He walked back to the bench and plopped himself down, rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. He certainly did not expect Hermione to react like that. Why did she get so angry with him just then? Does Ron know she only lets him snog her because she thinks nobody else wants to? An odd mixture of hurt, confusion and sorrow tore at his emotions. He had no idea that Hermione's childhood so closely paralleled his own. She had rarely ever spoken about her home life, and when she did, she had the habit of changing the subject rather abruptly. Now he understood why.

Harry felt the bench shift slightly as a weight settled into the space on the seat beside him. He lifted his head from his hands and glanced to his side, only to see the empty bench beside him. He returned his forehead into his palms.

"I'm sorry, Mister Potter," a low, harsh voice sounded from beside him, "I couldn't help but to overhear the last bit of the conversation."

"I told you to call me Harry," he said in a hushed voice, "and if you're going to be following me around, I suppose I should know your name, as well."

"Benjamin Bones," replied the auror, "but please call me Ben, and I'm not following you around, per se, my assignment was to guard the train and to ensure all students met up with their families safely. Seeing that you are the last student from the train, my assignment is not yet complete."

"I can take care of myself." replied Harry curtly.

"I know you can, Harry, I didn't mean to imply you were helpless, but you are still underage, and you can't expect me to just skive off duty, I mean, how would it look if something happened to you while I was off tilting pints in a pub somewhere?"

Harry nodded.

"And speaking of pubs, I daresay, you're keeping me from my evening meal. Would you care to join me for a bite before you head home?"

Harry didn't answer.

After a minute, Ben spoke in a still harsh voice, but with a sympathetic inflection, "Well, after seeing how angry your girlfriend was…"

"She's not my girlfriend." said Harry, a little too quickly.

"Really… Really? Well, I just thought you could use someone to talk to, I've been told that I'm really not a bad fellow."

"I'm sorry, Ben, but I've not had many pleasant experiences with ministry personnel." Harry indicated the back of his right hand, the words "I must not tell lies" clearly etched into his skin, the obvious result of a blood-quill, visible by the soft light from the newly lit streetlamp near the bench.

"Yes, quite…" ben muttered uncomfortably, "but you know we're not all bad."

Harry thought for a moment, then looked up into the night sky and let out a deep sigh.

"Are you up for the Leaky Cauldron?" asked Harry as he stood and picked up the end of his trunk, "I hear tell the pea soup there is quite good."

Ben got up and put Harry's hand on his arm under the invisibility cloak, "Hang on tight."

An instant later, they were standing in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. Ben pulled off his cloak and stashed it in his pocket. A few minutes later, they were in the pub and seated in a private booth. They sat in silence as Tom the barman placed bowls, silverware, bread, a steaming silver tureen of pea soup and a pair of butterbeers on the table and left. Ben wasted no time in ladling himself out a bowl of the thick soup and started slurping noisily.

Harry watched the man as he made short work of his meal. He couldn't help but to smile, as Ben drained the dregs of his bowl, wiped the remnants of the soup out of his over-large goatee, then scooped up another bowl for himself. It reminded him of the way Ron reveled in the pastime of eating. Ben was already halfway through his second bowl when he noticed that Harry hadn't even served himself his first.

"Come on, Harry," he said through a mouthful of half chewed bread, which just served to remind Harry of Ron's table manners even more, "pea soup is rubbish when it's cold."

Harry took the ladle and poured himself a bowl, but then just stared into its opaque, green surface.

"Bones, is it?" asked Harry, "any relation to Susan Bones?"

Ben nodded, "Second cousin, she's a good girl." He said while smiling and chewing.

Harry picked up his spoon and probed the surface of his soup.

"Worried about your girlfriend?"

Harry abruptly stopped poking his soup. "She's not my girlfriend."

"Why not?"

Harry dropped his spoon noisily. "Look, I can't be involved with her, with anyone… not in that way."

Ben looked intently at Harry. "You heard what she was saying as well as I…"

"You don't get it, do you?" snarled Harry, "I'm a walking corpse. Maybe you haven't kept up with the papers, but it seems I'm on the top of Voldemort's 'Who I Want To Kill Today' list."

As expected, Ben cringed at the mention of Voldemort's name, but Harry ignored it and continued, "I've only survived this long because of sheer, dumb luck and I'm not foolish enough to believe that my luck won't run out. When I get tossed in a box, If there's even enough left of me to toss into a box, I don't want her, or anyone else for that matter, to be cursing my memory over some promise of a happy future I made when I knew damn well I didn't have a future to share."

Ben shook his head, "That's no way to live."

"Who ever said I was living?" Harry muttered angrily, "In any case, when you look at Hermione, you may see my girlfriend, when I look at her I see a dear friend who has stood by me, even when nobody else would, she has faced dangers with me without any fear or complaint. She has saved my life more times than I care to count. She means more to me than… she's been my… she's…"

Harry fell silent, deep in thought. Ben just smiled.

Harry sighed and took a long pull from his butterbeer, "In case you hadn't noticed, everyone I ever loved or has loved me has come down with a mild case of death. I have no one left, and I'm very sorry, but you have to understand that I don't intend to start adding more names to that list, not if I can help it anyway, so back off."

"I see," said Ben after downing the rest of his soup and placing the bowl back on the table. He grabbed another bit of bread, wiped his bowl clean with it then popped it in his mouth, "Maff oo ivven emy…" he began speaking through his mouthful of bread before swallowing, "thought about going to St. Mungo's to get checked out?"

Ben involuntarily produced an uncomfortably loud belch, causing the few patrons sitting at the bar to turn towards their booth with disgusted faces. Unable to contain himself, Harry burst out laughing.

"Sorry, I haven't eaten since breakfast," said Ben sheepishly as he poured himself a third helping, "and it's not that funny. Now eat up, like I said, its rubbish once it gets cold."

They finished the meal in silence. Tom cleared the table and brought another set of drinks.

"I assume from your lack of response, you don't intend to go to St. Mungo's. We'll be taking the Knight Bus to your home, then?"

Harry sipped his butterbeer, "Yes, and I suppose you're coming with me?"

"Sorry, Harry, you know I have to."

They finished up and Ben paid the tab. Once outside, they flagged the Knight bus and paid their fares.

"Magnolia Park, Little Whinging, Surrey."

The bus lurched forward with a bang.

"I see that Stan is still in Azkaban." Harry coldly stated.

"I'm afraid so. Not a fair cop, that," replied Ben, "nice chap, that Stan."

"That's another one of my issues with the Ministry."

The knight bus stopped by the deserted park, and having delivered its passengers, sped off and disappeared with a bang. Ben, who had donned his invisibility cloak, and Harry, who was pulling his trunk and Hedwig's cage behind him, walked down the empty Magnolia road. They walked into Magnolia Crescent, and then turned into the shortcut towards Wisteria Walk, the same alley that Harry and his cousin Dudley had the encounter with the Dementors a few short years before.

After a short stroll down Wisteria Walk, they turned the corner to Privet Drive.

When Harry looked down along Privet Drive, he stopped abruptly and narrowed his eyes, "Something's not right." He whispered. He heard a soft ruffling as the auror drew his wand underneath his cloak.

"What is it?" Ben whispered.

"My uncle's car isn't there," whispered Harry nervously while checking his watch, "and there are no lights on at the house at all, it's much too early for them all to be in bed."

Harry hid his trunk behind a nearby hedge, opened it, withdrew his own invisibility cloak, then let Hedwig out of his cage.

Harry whispered to her "Stay nearby, girl, I may need you." She softly nipped his finger, letting him know that she understood, and then silently flew off into a nearby tree.

Harry threw his own cloak over his head and drew his wand.

He heard Ben whisper "Which house?"

"Number four" answered Harry.

"Right, you stay here, I'll go have a look."

Harry crouched behind the hedge and waited, his gaze darting up and down the street, looking for anything or anyone. Several tense minutes passed, his ears straining to hear anything out of the ordinary.

Several more minutes passed. Harry was starting to get anxious. Just when He was about to leave the hedge to investigate for himself, he heard Ben's harsh voice whispering to him from the sidewalk, "Harry! Where are you?"

"Here!" said Harry, as he moved his cloak from over his head just enough to let Ben know where he was.

Ben ducked behind the hedge, pulled his cloak from over his own head, and looked right at Harry, "You said number four, right?"

Harry nodded.

"There's nothing there."

"They aren't there?" Harry asked, "Were there signs of a struggle?"

"No," said Ben, "I mean there's nothing in the house, no people, no furniture, no food… nothing. It looks as though the place has been empty for a month or two."

Harry was dumbstruck. Had the Dursleys moved? They wouldn't have! They couldn't have!

Ben watched as fleeting glimpses of emotion flashed across Harry's face. First disbelief, followed by confusion, then for the briefest of an instant, panic before an unmistakable frown of anger took root.

"That bloody bastard!" Harry said bitterly, "He knew I had to come back. What do I do now?"

"I can't very will leave you alone," said Ben in a sympathetic tone, "let me take you back to the Leaky Cauldron, you can get a room there for tonight, I'll send a message off to the Ministry and…"

"No!" snapped Harry, "This has absolutely nothing to do with the Ministry."

"Alright, Harry, calm down. Let's get you back to the inn, then."

Harry called Hedwig and secured her in her cage. He grabbed his trunk and within minutes, he and Ben arrived once more in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. Ben went in and after using Hermione's money that Harry had given him, rented a room for a few nights. Once rented, Harry made his way to the room under his invisibility cloak.

Ben stood in his doorway and looked at Harry, concern etched in his face, "Are you sure you're going to be alright alone here, Harry?"

"I think so," replied Harry, sounding exhausted, "I'll kip out here tonight and in the morning, I'll owl my friends and visit Gringott's. I still can't believe those muggles up and moved on me, my Uncle Vernon must have got a large bonus or something, he certainly couldn't afford a better house on his pay."

"I still don't feel right about leaving you on your own, especially with what happened to you on the train today. This room is rented for two nights, but I told Tom I may want to stay longer and he is to add any additional days onto my tab here."

"I'll be ok. I should only need one night," said Harry, "Thanks for everything, Ben." Harry shook Ben's hand and said, "And I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone at the Ministry that I'm here, the less people know about my whereabouts, the better."

"I won't lie for you, Harry, but as long as nobody specifically asks me about you, I'll keep it quiet. I wish you luck, Harry Potter."

With that, Ben exited the room and quietly closed the door, which Harry quickly locked behind him.

Harry opened Hedwig's cage and let her perch herself on top of a dresser. He then sat on the bed and placed his head in his hands, thinking about what a miserable day he just had. Between Dumbledore's funeral, the strange dream that he remembered almost nothing about, Hermione's revelation about her childhood and the disappearance of the Dursleys, he was nearing his wit's end.

He understood that Hermione's emotions were running high because of the funeral, but he still found that her verbal assault had hurt him deeply. The fainting episode in the train bothered him too, but he still figured it was just fatigue catching up with him, because he certainly did not remember having any kind of a 'crippling emotional shock' while he was on the train.

What he could not understand is why the Dursleys left. Did Death Eaters threaten them? Did they attack them? He would assume that if they were attacked or kidnapped, they wouldn't bother with taking furniture. Knowing his Uncle Vernon, he wouldn't be surprised at all that, if he were threatened by 'freaks,' he would almost certainly flee, the cowardly git.

Harry sighed deeply, then quietly changed and slipped into bed, falling into a restless sleep almost immediately. Harry awoke many times during the night, tormented by odd dreams of Dumbledore, horcruxes and of Ginny, Ron and Hermione.

It was just before dawn when Harry got wearily out of bed, drew the curtains, and looked down on the empty Diagon Alley. The cloudless sky above was a dark purple. The sun, still deep below the horizon, cast a pink glow around the buildings in the distance. He cleaned himself up, dressed, and slipped out of his room under his invisibility cloak. After exiting through the Leaky Cauldron's back door, he took off his cloak and tucked it inside of his jacket, tapped the brick wall with his wand, and stepped through the archway into Diagon Alley.

Within minutes, he found himself walking through the large doors of Gringott's Wizarding Bank. Having just opened for the day, the lobby was nearly empty of customers. He stepped up to one of the grumpy-looking goblins.

"Good morning," Harry said politely as he retrieved his vault key from a gold chain around his neck, "I'd like to get into my vault please."

Harry looked up to hand the teller his key for inspection. The teller looked back at him with an inquisitive expression, shrugged, and then called for another goblin to escort him to his vault. Several minutes later, after a less than enjoyable cart ride, Harry stood before the door to his vault. This was the first time he personally visited his vault in very long time, because for the last few years his school money was withdrawn for him by one of the Weasley's, so he was curious to see how much he had left. He assumed, with the addition of the gold from the Black estate, that he would have a substantially larger pile than was there when he visited last. The goblin inserted his key and the door swung open.

The last time he looked in the vault there were several very large piles of galleons, sickles and knuts. What he saw before him now made Harry's mouth fall open in shock and he emitted a loud gasp. He felt very weak and his face became numb.

Inside of the vault laid a small pile of knuts, a smaller pile of sickles, and he could count the galleons on one hand. In a back corner laid a small box full of documents.

He stood in front of the vault for several breathless minutes before he finally whispered in a cracked, shaking voice, "I… I don't believe it! What happened? Where did it all go?"

Harry felt the panic creep into his chest. He turned to the goblin, and in a tone of voice that was less than polite, yelled, "What happened? Where did all of my money go?"

The goblin replied with a cackling voice, "You will have to talk to a manager."

With shaking hands, he scooped what little money there was into his moneybag and took the box from the corner, tucking it under his arm as he stepped from the now empty vault and clambered into the cart for the trip to the surface.

The goblin led Harry into a small chamber off the main lobby where he anxiously awaited a Gringott's manager. Several long minutes had passed before an ancient goblin, wearing an official-looking red crushed-velvet suit and carrying several rolls of parchment, entered the room and sat at the table.

"I am told you have a question about your account?" said the old goblin as he spread out one of the rolls of parchment on the table.

"I most certainly do," exclaimed Harry while pacing the floor anxiously, "I've just been to my vault, and it was nearly empty! Last time I looked in there were great piles of galleons," Harry dumped the contents of his moneybag on the table, "a far sight more than this…"

The goblin glanced briefly at the meager pile of coins, then unrolled another scroll of parchment and continued to read.

"Well?" asked Harry impatiently as he leaned his hands on the table, trying to decipher the strange writing on the parchment.

"I see…" mumbled the goblin, and then looked up from the parchment, "Two months ago a statement was sent to your home informing you and your legal guardian of the current balance in your trust account and about the change of the account's status upon your impending coming of age."

Harry's eyes hardened and he clenched his fists so tightly he barely noticed that his fingernails were cutting into his palms.

"That very day," the goblin continued, "the owl returned to us with a message from your legal guardian. It requested, on your behalf, that seven hundred fifty-five thousand, nine hundred twenty-two galleons, six sickles and eight knuts, in other words, your trust account, be converted into muggle pounds. Minus the conversion fee of five percent, that came to approximately three million, seven hundred seventy-nine thousand, six hundred eleven pounds, to be delivered to your home at… let me see…" The goblin glanced down at the parchment, "Ah, yes, to Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, in Surrey. This money that you just retrieved from your vault was the interest from the few minutes that the larger balance was in your account during that banking day."

"Dursley… that… that… that thieving, fat old GIT!" Harry remembered that the previous summer Dumbledore mentioned the gold his vault in front of the Dursleys, "That's why the bastard packed up and left. I'm going to murder him when I find him!" yelled Harry as scooped the small pile of coins back into his moneybag, grabbed the small box of documents and stormed out of the room.

"Mister Potter, wait a moment…" was all Harry heard as he slammed the door behind him. He ran out of the bank and down through Diagon Alley until he reached the archway back to the Leaky Cauldron. He slipped his invisibility cloak back over himself and entered the inn. Nobody noticed a nearly full bottle of firewhiskey disappear from the bar when Harry slipped it beneath his cloak. He quietly made for his room, and once locked inside, proceeded to drown himself in the amber liquid.

It was after midnight when Harry awoke to the sound of rapid tapping and bumping on his window, each thump and tap sent a wave of pain through his throbbing head. Ron's tiny owl, Pigwidgeon, was frantically flapping at the window demanding entrance, eager to deliver the massage that was bound to its leg.

After several attempts at standing, he was finally able to rise from his bed and stagger his way to the window. The moment that Harry slid the window open, the owl swooped in and began hooting madly and chaotically flapped around the room. Harry seized the owl out of the air and carefully untied the note while he slowly walked to his trunk to get some owl treats for the little messenger. Halfway to his trunk, he stopped mid-stride as a faint, flowery scent met his senses as he unrolled the parchment. The headache, the queasiness in his stomach, fuzziness of his thoughts disappeared, although he did feel a strange, dull pain on his nose and in his front teeth.

Time seemed to slow…

"Ginny…" he whispered to himself as he held the letter to his chest.

He released Pig, who swooped towards Hedwig's cage and perched himself on top of it, much to the larger owl's chagrin. Sitting back onto his bed, Harry carefully studied the letter and saw that the parchment was completely blank. Harry stared at it for a long moment. He turned it over, but that side was blank also.

He lifted himself from the bed, and slowly walked across the floor, opened the door and stepped through while he folded the blank parchment and stuffed it into his breast pocket.

Harry found himself standing in a large chamber, illuminated by guttering torches set in the walls. Great stone pillars with carved serpents lined the wall on both sides. Just ahead of him, he saw a carcass of a massive snake, oozing some foul-smelling fluid from ruptures all over its bloated, decaying body.

Beyond the rotting carcass, he saw the huge stone statue of Salazar Slytherin towering up from the floor of the chamber.

"I've been here before," thought Harry, "it looks just how I remember it."

Harry lifted his head and looked into the face of the massive statue, but the face he saw was not the one he expected to see. Instead of the old, monkeyish face with a long, thin beard that he remembered, it was the face of a young wizard, with messy hair, round glasses, bright, green emeralds for eyes and a lightning-shaped scar on its forehead.

The twisted face on the statue looked as if it were in unbearable pain, its mouth stretched in a terrible, silent wail and its bejeweled eyes were looking down at him, wide open and frozen in some kind of hellish torture.

Harry stared blankly at the statue and wondered why it was in such obvious torment. Maybe his presence there was disturbing it. He looked a bit closer at the statue's open mouth. There seemed to be a greenish glow emanating from within, as if a flickering candle with an emerald flame was burning inside. He then noticed that the eyes of the statue did not seem to be focused directly at him, but at a spot on the floor somewhere behind.

Harry glanced around curiously and he saw, a few paces behind him, a pale body dressed in black robes and a cloak lying in a large puddle of blood. Although the hood of the cloak hid its face, he knew immediately who this was.

For a heart stopping moment, agonizing fear gripped Harry's chest and panic flashed in his eyes.

"GINNY!" he screamed as he dashed to the lifeless form on the floor.

He knelt before the body and felt the cold blood soak into the legs his pajamas. With trembling hands, he reached out and pulled her from the floor into a hug. He felt the cold through her robes as he cradled the body in his shaking arms. A pale blue hand that was clutching a small bouquet of flowers flopped to the floor. Tears fought their way out of his tightly closed eyes as he rocked back and forth, holding the limp form tightly as loud, terrible sobs escaped from his very soul.

He pulled the hood from over its head and then froze.

He could barely see through his puffy, tear-filled eyes. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He looked down into vacant, chocolate-colored eyes.

"Oh…" he thought, "it's only Hermione."

Harry let the body slide out of his arms and watched it crumple back onto the dirty, blood-soaked stone floor. He then got to his feet and tried to brush the slime and gore from his clothes.

Suddenly, a loud crack sounded from behind him and echoed throughout the chamber. Harry turned around and saw that dust and debris were falling around the feet of the large statue from a gaping rift that appeared on its chest. Thick, red blood gushed from the crack, flowed down over its robes and splashed into a quickly spreading pool around the statue's base.

He looked down at the widening pool of blood at his feet. He could see the reflection of the tall statue in the surface of the dark red pool. As the edge of the expanding pool enveloped his bare feet, he saw in it's reflection a small girl standing beside him.

As he felt a small, warm hand enter his, he heard a gentle voice drift through his mind, "You cannot stay here, very much danger." The voice had an odd, but pleasant Asian accent, "come."

The small girl led him away from the statue, past the body, the rotting snake and then back through the door in which he entered. She motioned him onto the bed. Once tucked into the warm blankets, she sat beside him on the bed.

"Sleep now," echoed the voice in his head, "I stay with you, please to be safe."

Harry felt the dark embrace as sleep quickly overtook him.