The Boy Who Lived On

Opsidiana

Rating: G
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 09/08/2003
Last Updated: 09/08/2003
Status: in_progress

When the Boy Who Lived finally is old enough to move on...what course will he take? What will be his first steps into the Wizarding world and where will they take him? Some H/H in later chapters. Chapter 2 now up!!

Chapters

1. Harry

2. Leaving Privet Drive

1. Harry

Diana Buitrago Normal Diana Buitrago 2 2 2003-08-09T07:04:00Z 2003-08-09T07:04:00Z 3 1539 8776 CSULB 73 17 10777 9.2720

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry Potter but I don’t and therefore don’t make a penny out of the 436 million dollars that J.K. Rowling makes so…don’t sue me because I have an imagination.

A/N: This is my FIRST fanfic ever!! Don’t be Harsh but PLEASE R/R to know if I should continue writing.

Within a few minutes Harry Potter would finally be 18. The agonizing years that he had spent at the Dursley’s would all be coming to an end early tomorrow morning. Ten minutes to go and he would finally be old enough, by muggle standards, to move out on his own and commence his life. Alone.

Harry thought about that fateful day when his first Hogwarts letter came via owl post. That was seven years ago. The years that followed had unforgettable memories. However, there were some that he wished he could erase. Those memories were the ones that pained him the most.

The heart-wrenching ones were those of Cedric, Neville, Dumbledore and Sirius. Both Cedric and Neville had died at the hands of Voldemort. Both had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Dumbledore and Sirius on the other hand died saving him. During the last battle against Voldemort, Professor Lupin, and the others that made up the Order were knocked out cold. The only two-left standing, more like sprawled out on the floor aching, were Dumbledore and himself.

*******Memory*******

Harry lay on the floor. Flashes of pain raked his body. He could barely stand, barely move, it was all he could do to keep his eyes from closing into eternal darkness.

“Mr. Potter! Finally I can be rid of you. Meddling child!” said Voldemort in an evil chilled voice.

Harry glanced at the vile face and winced at the pain coursing through his scar. Looking into those red serpent eyes Harry felt like he had disappointed everyone. Dumbledore…he looked over to see him crouched, nursing his badly wounded wand arm.

“Dumbledore!” Voldemort said. “I will give you the pleasure in seeing your prodigy die before your eyes!”

A shrill laugh escaped Voldemort’s lips, sending chills down Harry’s spine. He saw Voldemort raise his wand. The energy in the room circulated around them. The electricity was thick with the profusion of negativity. Harry glanced at Dumbledore. Those eyes of his, they always glinted in a mysterious way. Dumbledore then cracked a small sad smile. He moved his badly injured wand arm over his heart. Harry could see him muttering some words to himself. One last glance from Dumbledore told Harry that it would be the last he would see his Professor alive. Harry then closed his eyes and felt a comforting warmth surround him. He had felt this before. But when? Where did this feeling come from? Where did he feel this before?

In the background Harry could hear Voldemort laughing.

“I can’t let it end this way!” Harry murmured. But what was it that was surrounding him? Then…it hit him.

Love! What he felt…it was love! His mother, sacrificing herself for him, that’s where he had felt this feeling before. With renewed energy Harry stood. He raised his wand.

Voldemort’s laughing ceased. Voldemort couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A moment ago Harry was lying on the floor on the cusp of death. Now the boy stood, strong and angry! Voldemort quickly started to mutter the death curse.

“Avada…” Voldemort never finished those words.

“This is for Dumbledore!” A flash of bright gold light and then there was nothing.

*********

Harry had awoken 4 days later with bandages wrapped around various wounds. His friends and family had surrounded him with smiles and tears. But one face had been missing. Harry later found out that Dumbledore had died the moment that Harry had defeated Voldemort. The feeling of love that Harry felt was the love created over the years by Dumbledore himself, feelings that he had harbored for Harry as if he were his grandson. The transfer of power had eventually killed the old man. This memory was one Harry feels most guilty for.

Harry looked about the room. All his personal belongings were all packed. The next stage of his life would be here soon. He glanced down at an open box. It had yet to be sealed by his handy dandy spell-o-tape. Before sealing the box shut he looked through its contents. It contained so many memories. Rummaging through the box he found a picture taken of him and his friends fast asleep on the couch after an all night study session before taking their O.W.L.S.

Ron Weasley, his best friend and closest confidant, sat on the left side of the couch, curled up with an arm draped over the velvet armrest. He had obviously been exhausted; the drool all over his robes spoke volumes. Ron had always been funny that way. Ron’s motto remains ‘eat and sleep, the necessities in life.’ Through the years Ron had always been a bit bull headed and defensive. But a greater friend you couldn’t find. He was ingenious when it came to chess and his thirst to prove himself over his brothers had taken him far.

On the opposite side of the couch, within the picture, lay Hermione Granger. Her hair dropped carelessly around her shoulders and armrest. Clutched close to her chest was what looked like to be a copy of Hogwarts, A History?

“I swear. That girl should have that book memorized by now!” said Harry with a loving smile on his face.

Hermione was the least likely of the three to fall asleep but fall asleep she did. One hand hung loosely over the side of the couch and her long slender legs draped carelessly over Harry’s lap. Harry blushed slightly as he realized that in the picture his hand had been dangerously close to the hem of her skirt. In the picture he had also fallen asleep. His body bent in a rather awkward position and his hair ridiculously more messy than usual. Those large round glasses of his were all askew and slowly inching down the bridge of his nose.

Closing his eyes Harry vaguely remembers Hermione screeching to them that they had slept to long and that they needed to study more. Study, Study, Study. That’s all they had done during that Easter vacation. Thanks to Colin Harry had this embarrassing picture. More than once he had used it as blackmail against both his friends.

Amongst the other things in the box Harry found one of his quidditch trophies. Under its base was a note from his quidditch captain.

“Bloody Hell Potter!!

What were you thinking when you pulled that Wronski Feint? Cutting it a little close don’t you think mate? I thought I would have to rake your body parts off of the grass! But you should have seen Dracos’ face! That was priceless! If you feel the need to terrify me again just make sure that we win the quidditch cup again, because then I’ll be able to forgive you!

Your best friend and captain,

Ron

P.S. Thanks Mate! Without you I….er…the team wouldn’t have made it this far.”

Harry smiled as he remembered Ron’s horror stricken face after he pulled of that excessively dangerous move. Ron had been named quidditch captain after Angelina Johnson had graduated. Ron’s performance as keeper fifth year had set him apart from the rest. According to Harry, Ron deserved the spot more than anyone he knew.

Delving with more interest into his box of memories, Harry found a thick stack of envelopes tied loosely by a thin dark blue ribbon. All the envelopes varied in size and weight. Each contained a separate story, a different memory. They were all cards that he had received for events such as his birthday, Christmas, even some as a get well soon, and a few for Valentines.

Harry shuffled through the cards and came across a rather small envelope that had a tattered green wax seal on the back. The postmark dated it a few days before his 16th birthday, about two years ago. Slowly he opened the letter and read over its contents.

My dearest and only Godson,

If you are reading this then obviously I didn’t survive the trials that I was set forth to combat. I’m sorry for leaving you alone all those years in your youth and I’m sorry that I have left you alone with your future. Know this…I many not be with you in the physical and mortal world but I will always be close, watching over you. Enclosed in this letter is something that I know you will treasure. Within this envelope are concealed the wedding bands that unified your parents in marriage under God. They spoke their vows into them and sealed their love within the inscription that is now engraved on the inner part of the rings. Within the Potter family, these rings were of greatest importance. They are the symbol of your heritage. These rings are the foundations of your bravery, your courage, and your strength. The rings date back many years, thousands if my memory serves me correctly. And every single marriage that those rings have witnessed has locked and preserved the love of each couple till all eternity. When you love Harry, make sure it’s for someone worthwhile. Make sure that she is the one you will love eternally because that is your destiny. The rings already know who it shall be, you just have to find the right one. Through love anything can be accomplished and love will inevitably feed your strength to carry on. Know always that your parents loved you very much Harry. You will see them again some day and then you’ll know just how much they cared.

With deepest love,

Your godfather,

Sirius

Harry closed the letter and placed a hand on his chest searching for the chain around his neck. Untucking it from his shirt he gazed at the two rings that glittered in the waning lamplight. He looked more closely to what he believed was his mothers ring. Squinting closely he read the inscription.

Though loves be lost, love shall not, and death shall have no dominion.

Tucking his necklace back in he sighed heavily and returned his memories back to its box. Stacking the boxes neatly in a row against the wall he turned to lie on his bed.

“Someone truly worthwhile?” Harry whispered to himself. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep dreaming of a beautiful young witch with long brown wavy hair and warm chocolate brown eyes. As visions of Harry’s true desire ran through his dreams he unknowingly gripped the wedding bands around his neck. At his touch the rings glowed with warm gold light, the inscriptions fading, revealing a hidden message within each ring. Within the male ring the name Harry Potter glowed bright. Within his mothers ring the name that burned to the surface was none other than Hermione Granger.

2. Leaving Privet Drive

goztf Normal Diana Buitrago 2 8 2003-08-09T07:05:00Z 2003-08-09T07:05:00Z 5 1034 5895 Onyx Acceptance Corporation 49 11 7239 9.2720

A/N: This is the second installment of my story. Hope you like. Please R/R!!

Early the next morning, Harry awoke to the pounding of the door. Rolling over to look at his old clock (which happened to belong to Dudley before he tried to destroy it) Harry saw that it was only 6am.

“BOY!! GET THOSE RUDDY BIRDS OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!” yelled a rather exasperated Uncle Vernon.

“Birds?” Harry sat up and looked about his room. There were 3 quite large owls hovering and squawking rather loudly. It’s amazing that Harry didn’t wake up to the irksome sounds.

Quickly standing up and collecting the packages the owls carried, he turned to open the door for his Uncle. Once the door opened a large and purple hefty man stood at the entrance of his room. His girth threatened to rival his capacity to enter the room and his teeth grinded to the pulse of the vein that was in danger of bursting on his left temple. Uncle Vernon hadn’t taken his sons example. Gradually every summer he seemed to grow in size, especially around the middle.

“WHAT ARE THOSE DOING HERE?” bellowed Vernon referring to the last owl that swooped out of Harry’s room. “I DON’T EVER WANT TO SEE ANOTHER BLOODY OWL IN MY HOUSE!”

In a slow and meek voice Harry replied.

“Don’t worry Uncle Vernon. After today you won’t have to deal with any owls ever again or me for that matter. Give me a few minutes to collect my things.”

At this announcement Uncle Vernon hesitated and slowly questioned. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes, I’m leaving today.”

“But where are you going? Where are you going to stay? With one of your FREAKY friends right? With your own…kind?” supposed Vernon.

“Not exactly, but you aren’t one to care now are you? So long as I leave your house you’ll be happy,” claimed Harry.

To this Vernon looked over Harry. His eyes still had that wary look and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe,” and with that said, Vernon turned with a bit of effort and trudged down the hall. Harry stood there rooted to the spot. What did he mean by maybe? He looked down the hall and watched his Uncle head down to breakfast.

Shaking himself back into reality he turned to organize his things.

**********

About half an hour later, Harry stood in the hallway at the base of the stairs. He had stacked his belongings on top of his trunk. All his possessions were ready to be transported to his new home.

Problem was he still didn’t have anywhere to go. He new he could always count on the Leaky Cauldron for a room, at least till he searched for an apartment or loft. He would always have 12 Grimmauld Place to fall back on but the memories made old wounds bleed as bright as new ones.

With those thoughts plaguing his mind he used a locomotion charm on his things, draped his invisibility cloak over his belongings to shield them from prying eyes and headed towards the door.

As he turned the knob he heard behind him a loud crash from the kitchen, a sound like plates shattering on the ground. With curiosity always getting the better of him he shut the front door and turned towards the origins of the noise. Nearing the kitchen he heard his Aunt Petunia speaking softly to Vernon.

“He’s leaving? But when and for that matter where is he going to stay?”

“Petunia, We’ve done our job! Why should we care what happens to that…that thing? Its better off that he go and find some bridge to live under. We wont have to do anything with him. We don’t have to constantly be making lies to cover up his…unnaturalness,” Vernon half hissed to Petunia.

Hearing his Aunt wonder where he would stay made him feel wanted, but quickly putting those feelings aside Harry started to wonder. ‘Why did she care where I went? She never cared before.’ Leaning into the swinging door slightly, he could make out the figures of a rather disgruntled Uncle Vernon and slightly pale Aunt Petunia, remnants of Aunt Petunia’s good china broken on the floor.

“Oh… My mothers good CHINA!!” cried Aunt Petunia

Suddenly Harry fell through the door landing on the floor next to the broken bits of china. Looking up behind him he saw his bully of a cousin standing over him grinning madly at his triumph over catching Harry eavesdropping.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING? WHERE YOU SPYING ON US? TRYING TO LISTEN TO OUR ADULT AND NORMAL CONVERSTATION! HOW DARE YOU! GO TO YOUR ROOM…. NO MAKE THAT YOUR CUPBOARD!!!” yelled Uncle Vernon.

Picking himself off of the ground he looked at his Uncle incredulously.

“You want me to what?” said Harry bewildered.

“YOU HEARED ME NOW GET GOING!” Uncle Vernon hollered while pointing in the all to familiar direction of the cupboard under the stairs.

“NO!! I was about to walk out of this house forever before that plate crashed to the floor. I wanted to make sure everything was alright when I found you both talking about me.” Turning to his Aunt, Harry continued. “And for that matter why would you care what would happen to me? You never cared before. Why are you all of a sudden so interested in my well fare?” argued Harry.

“You heard Vernon…. Go to that cupboard and stay there,” whispered Aunt Petunia with a sideways glance.

“Pardon? I’m not a child any more Aunt Petunia. You can’t send me to that rat hole that used to be my room because I’m not your charge anymore.” With that said, Harry turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen. To his amazement they didn’t argue with him. But then again why would they?

“Harry!” shrieked Aunt Petunia.

Turning with a hateful glare, Harry stared at his Aunt.

“Now what?”

“I know we have never met eye to eye but….” She paused for effect like it was some long dramatic line she couldn’t bare to say. “Well…you’re my sisters only son. And as your Aunt I guess I should say this. Be careful Harry…. just…. be careful and be happy.”

She hesitantly patted him on the shoulder, to Harry’s bewilderment. Aunt Petunia then turned around and started cleaning the mess she had made with the china plates. Furrowing his brows as if trying to solve a complex riddle, Harry realized he never really knew his Aunt. Under different circumstances would she have been different? Harry sauntered toward the entrance corridor and turned to take one last look at the house. Though he hated every minute he had to spend at Privet Drive he missed it. After all…Harry’s only blood connection to his mother was that woman that was now working meticulously to pick up the scraps of china on the kitchen floor. Turning his back on the house he walked away from the Dursley home. As he walked away he whispered something under his breath.

“Reparo…”

Somewhere within number 4 Privet Drive a woman stood transfixed on the plate that lay in her hands. A few minutes ago it was shattered, now with a little bit of magic…she and the plate were hole again.

***A/N: Sorry this chapter is rather pointless. I just wanted to show a little emotion out of Petunia. I being an Aunt myself could never hate any of my nieces or nephews so…. I had to show that she had a little heart at least. H/H soon…I promise