Harry Potter and the Archway of Torture

Chapter OneAlone

July 15- 19, 2003

 

          Harry Potter sat on his bed slowly rocking back and forth in his small room in number four, Privet Drive. He was staring at his bedroom door as if waiting for someone to come, but knowing that person never would.

            Yes he will, he told himself firmly, he's not dead.

            Sleeping was ridiculous. He would be haunted by all the deaths he witnessed since he was born: his parents', Cedric Diggory's, and now Sirius-

            No, because he's not dead, he yelled in his head.

            He swore to himself never to give up hope that Sirius would come back. How could a person die just from falling through a curtain?

            This is the magical world, anything's possible, a very small part of his mind said.

            Shut up, Harry screamed inside his head. He had always hated that tiny voice.

            Harry knew that no one had ever come back through the veil before because of the way everyone thought that Sirius was dead. But, could something else be behind that veil besides death? If there was, then Sirius would return. He was strong enough to. He was the first person to ever escape from Azkaban, and he did it on his own, not like those ten Death Eaters who needed their master's help to escape.

            And what if there is only death behind that veil? asked that small voice.

            Then I'll forever hate the Ministry of Magic for even having that stupid archway in the first place, he told it. How long had he been talking to himself?

            Harry had no company in his room having sent Hedwig to Lupin to say that he was fine. He looked at his clock: 3:56. He stopped rocking and stood up. Walking over to the already open window, he closed his eyes and let a breeze come over him. Opening them, he was surprised to see someone standing under his window looking directly up at him. Harry was even more startled by the fact that he could see this person, for all they were wearing a hooded cloak that appeared to be made out of shadow.

            Harry did not move or make a sound, only stared back at the person watching him. Seconds past without a sound made on the street or movement between the two. For some reason, Harry was not scared in the slightest. He did not know if it was because he did not care anymore or because he felt there was nothing to be scared of about this person.

            Suddenly, the bottom of the cloak flapped to the side as though there were no legs there, then no waist. When it finally reached the head, the cloak seemed to wrap around it until it formed a ball that grew smaller and smaller until it was gone. It all happened in a fraction of a second.

            Harry stared at the place where the stranger had stood. Had they Apparated in some form? He slowly walked backward until he reached his bed and laid down. When Hedwig returned, he would have to send her out again, because the Order would want to know.... But Harry did not want to tell anyone. He was tired of telling people everything that happened to him and no one telling him anything that involved him. Besides, what could they do about it? And it really did not matter if there was about to be an attack on his life because he would have to face it anyway, due to what the prophecy said.

            He would have to be murdered or be a murderer.

            Harry wondered, if he was supposed to defeat Voldemort, how could he possibly do it? Yes, Harry had did it before, but not in these conditions. It was his mother's magic the first time. The other times, Voldemort did not have a body, and when he finally regained it, Harry did not defeat him but escaped him.

            He could not even do an Unforgivable Curse correctly. He had tried the Cruciatus Curse a month before, and it did not work out completely on whom he was cursing.

            Bellatrix.

            God he hated that woman. Bellatrix and Wormtail. The two Death Eaters that caused a lot of his pain. If he was capable of killing Voldemort why not them. Wormtail had destroyed Harry and Sirius's lives and Bellatrix killed Sirius-

            How many times am I going to have to tell myself that Sirius is not dead? he asked himself. And listen to me, trying to figure out how to kill Voldemort and two of his Death Eaters.

            Harry was getting tired and the thought of having to think about what was really bothering him about the prophecy made him sick. He decided to go to sleep to ignore his thoughts, so he took off his glasses. Before he slept, he heard something at the window but was too tired to open his eyes. He did not care who or what was at the window. The last thing he felt and heard was a brush against his cheek and the rustle of feathers.

 

 

 

 

Two days later, Hedwig woke him, rubbing her beak across his temple. Harry opened his eyes and saw white feathers. Hedwig hopped back as he got up and pushed a letter closer to him.

             It was a little before noon. Picking up his glasses, he reached for Hedwig and she jumped up on his arm. Opening his letter, he stroked Hedwig while reading.

 

 

Harry,

      You asked how much longer you will spend at the Dursleys' in your last letter and, since what happened last summer, we all think it's best for you to leave now.

      On Saturday, the 19^th, be packed and ready to leave by noon. Don't worry about anything else, just tell your aunt and uncle that you will be leaving then.

      Remember not to stray too far from the house.

 

R. Lupin

 

 

            Harry put down the letter from Lupin, still absently stroking Hedwig. What if he was spending his summer at the House of Black? If he was and he saw Kreacher, he'd kill him. After all, he had been in on the plot to help Voldemort.

            Funny how I keep thinking of killing people, Harry thought.

            It was probably due to the snake that lived inside him and sometimes tried to overpower him. But Harry would not let that happen. When it tried, Harry wanted to coil around one of the Dursleys. Suffocate them. Bite an arm, a leg, or a head off. That is why he skipped lunch and dinner.

            While going downstairs for lunch yesterday, Uncle Vernon was just in front of him on the stairs. The urge to wrap around his uncle's nonexistent neck was almost uncontrollable and Harry ran back up stairs, into his room.

            "Thanks Hedwig," Harry said, noticing that his voice had become deeper. He smiled faintly at the change, and put Hedwig down.

            He left the room to shower and dress and went downstairs. Luckily, no one was in the kitchen but Harry heard shouts outside. Too hungry to worry about it, he fixed himself two fast sandwiches and stuffed them down his throat.

            "...don't care what your son says, mine didn't do it. It could have been one of his friends and he was just there-"

            "No, Carnell said it was him."

            "And I said I don't care what your son said. It wasn't Dudley."

            "Deny it all you want, but the next time he lays a finger on my son, I'm calling the police."

            Harry heard someone stumping away as he hurriedly washed and dried his plate. He put it back in the cabinet and left the kitchen as the front door opened.

            "Don't worry, Dudley," his uncle was saying furiously as Harry walked into the hall. Going up the stairs, his uncle snapped at him, for the need to yell at someone, "You need to stop moping around this house, looking miserable. What's wrong with you?"

            Harry stopped and slowly turned around on the stairs and said, "Don't take it out on me because someone finally told you what Dudley really does during his tea parties."

            Uncle Vernon looked as though he wanted to charge Harry down, but, most likely remembering Moody's warning, he thought better of it. Instead, he yelled, "Go up stairs."

            "Where do you think I was going?" Harry asked, annoyed, turning to continue up the stairs and ignoring his uncle's reply. But before he got to his room, he remembered that he would be leaving tomorrow. Harry sighed and walked back downstairs.

            Uncle Vernon and Dudley were in the living room and Uncle Vernon was still telling Dudley not to worry.

            "The police aren't going to come near you," he was pacing around the room, pulling on his mustache, but stopped when he saw Harry, "I thought I told you to go-"

            "I'm leaving tomorrow," Harry said, talking over his uncle.

            "What?" he asked.

            Harry sighed and stepped closer saying slowly, "If you didn't hear me the first time, I said I'm leaving tomorrow at –" but Harry could not finish his sentence, for at that moment, the snake inside him woke up, and was urging Harry to get closer and rip his uncle's head off. There was pain running through his head, but not caused by his scar, and it must have shown on his face.

            "What's wrong with you, boy?" his uncle snapped. Dudley was watching Harry closely and looked as if he was ready to break and run.

            Harry was trying to step back, away from his uncle and cousin. But the snake wanted to go forward, to get closer. Harry could feel he was losing the fight, the snake was over powering him. He could feel his foot lift and take a step forward, then another, and another. But a sharp pain in the back of his head stopped him.

            Harry realized that his eyes were closed tight and he was about two feet away from his uncle when he opened them. Harry stared at Uncle Vernon and slowly walked backward to the doorway. Hedwig was resting on a chair but flew over to him and landed on his shoulder running her beak through his hair. Harry found this comforting and sighed. She had hit him in the back of his head to stop him.

            Uncle Vernon, who looked confused and scared, and Dudley, who looked utterly frightened and had shrunk into his chair, were both staring at Harry as though he had gone crazy. Which he sort of had.

            "I'm leaving tomorrow at noon, okay." He left without saying another word. Up the stairs and into his room, Harry hoped he would not feel this around everyone, but he had a feeling he would. He sat on his bed, put Hedwig on his arm, and began stroking her and rocking again.

            "Thanks again, Hedwig." Harry looked down at the owl on his arm. She had a little blood on her beak. Harry touched the back of his head and his hand came back with blood. He picked up one of his shirts, dipped it in Hedwig's water bowl, and wiped her beak off.

            When Harry finished she flew into her cage to go to sleep. He went to the bathroom and quickly rinsed his hair. Grabbing a towel, he threw it on his head, went back to his room, laid down on his stomach with the towel still on his head, and did not move for the rest of the day.

 

 

 

 

Draco roamed around his silent mansion, wishing that his mother was with his father.

            In prison.

            She was almost as crazy as his father.

            Ah... what a perfect match, Draco thought bitterly.

            He wanted so much to be alone, and yet... he also wanted someone to talk to. He was tired of playing the role of the boy who wanted to follow in his father's footsteps, when he could not even stand him. He needed someone to talk to, who were not connected to his parents in some way like all of his friend were. But if not his friends then who? Everyone else he knew, he hated.

            If he could just meet a person who did not follow the Dark Side. And who did not drool over Harry Potter.

            Then he would be happy.

            But, here was another summer. Unhappy.

            But at least it was better than his last summer, when he had been shocked and highly disappointed, when Pansy Parkinson had showed up. Of course, Draco's mother loved everything about Pansy, except that she looked like a pug. Draco, on the other hand, hated her. She had an obsession with him, higher than any of the other girls at the school, that disturbed him.

            And why were a lot of the girls in Slytherin so ugly? He had never understood that, and probably never would.

            He walked down the stairs to the second floor, standing straight, looking up, and with the arrogance of every Malfoy, just in case his mother came by. He heard voices as he descended. Most likely the Death Eater's who were not caught. Having those idiotic meeting that he was not invited to. Like he really cared.

            He never had to see any of them, but he heard some of them. So far, the one he hated most was Bellatrix Lestrange. It had to be her. She was the only witch in the group, besides his mother. Always screaming something about the Dark Lord. He knew it could not be his mother, she did not scream like that, from what he knew.

            She never screamed, really. He made sure never to give her a reason to do so. Most, but not everything, he did was to please her. He did not want to deal with the hassle of his parents all the time because he was against the Dark Side. His parents, mostly his mother, left him alone. Which pleased him ever so much. Moreover, it was liberating to be cruel with others since he could not express his emotions with some.

            Misery loves company.

            He knew if he carried on like this, he might never actually get that person who would understand him. He knew it was not going to be his parents.

            There was never anyone there for him, he was all alone.

            Why did they even have a child if they were going to put me through this? he asked himself.

 

 

 

When Sunday dawned, Harry slowly got up and neatly put what little he had removed from his trunk back in, remembering to take his time. He needed something to do until noon.

            He finished packing and stepped out of his room. He could hear the Dursleys downstairs as he went to shower. When he finished, he went back to his room, dressed, and sat on his trunk, twirling his wand.

            Before Harry knew it, it was eleven fifty eight and there was a knock on the door. He hurriedly picked up his trunk and the sleeping Hedwig in her cage and ran downstairs. Walking down the hall to the door, he looked into the kitchen to see Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon sitting stiffly. His aunt caught his eyes and he stopped walking. After a few seconds, she blinked and looked away. He did not have the slightest idea what that was about. Another knock on the door reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing.

            He walked the rest of the length to the door but paused in front of it. What would happen if he opened it? What if he could not control the snake, and attacked whoever was behind the door? Through the window, Harry saw two people, whose faces were distorted by the glass.

            There was another knock on the door, a lot harder than before, and murmuring behind the door. Uncle Vernon shouted at him to hurry up. He slowly turned the door knob and opened the door.

            The very pale Lupin and curly red-haired Tonks stood at the door looking confused.

            "Wotcher, Harry," Tonks said slowly.

            "Hello Harry. Is everything okay?" Lupin asked slowly.

            "Fine," Harry replied pulling his trunk out after him and closing the door.

            Mundungus was sitting in his car, that he most likely stole, looking up and down the street. Lupin picked up the other end of Harry's trunk and Tonks walked closely next to him. Harry's trunk put away, he greeted Mundungus. When he was comfortable in the back seat, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, relieved by the snake's absence.

            Harry shook his head and opened his eyes. The car moved down Privet Drive and Tonks turned around to face Harry and Lupin.

            "'Ow dem muggles treat ya, 'Arry?" Mundungus asked, looking at him through the rear view mirror. "Cuz if dere's summit ya left out 'o ya letters, we cun turn 'round."

            Harry smiled slightly. "No, I didn't leave anything out. They ignored me, thankfully. So, am I spending the summer at the Burrow or..." Harry asked, meaning Grimmauld Place.

            "It's the 'or,'" Tonks answered.

            Harry wondered what would happen when saw Kreacher. He looked at Lupin and was glad he understood the questioning stare.

            "He remains in his room, so you won't see him. He seemed to think that we would not return after what─ what happened last month." Remus's voice changed in the middle of his sentence and swallowed, saying nothing else.

 

 

 

They seemed to be everywhere he turned. Or maybe he just imaged they were there. They blended with the shadows. It was so hard to tell if they were near. No light to show them. No place to hide from them. Their hands felt as if they were covered with some type of thick liquid. Probably blood. They had claws that raked his skin. He would sometimes feel them close by when he could not move from pain. They would sit there and he could feel them staring, though he could not see there eyes

            It felt like a memory. He had been through this torture years before.

            Right?

            Maybe this was not real. Just a dream... No... there was too much pain for it to be a dream. He was slowly forgetting things. His name was the first thing to go. He would hear it in his sleep, then forget soon after. He was having a difficult time with what was a memory, what was actually happening now, and what he was only imagining. Things that felt like actual memories, brought him only pain before he forgot them.

            He closed his eyes and saw no difference in the darkness on the inside of his eyelids. Something near him was breathing heavily, right in front of his face. There was no point in opening his eyes, there would not be any difference in what he saw. He slid back, away from it, and was stopped by a clawed hand that ripped slowly down his back. He moved away from both creatures, knowing that it made no difference. They could see him but he could not see them. His back was bleeding, but not violently. He did his best to stop it from bleeding and heard nothing approaching him. Now he knew that the little creatures were not a figment of his imagination, but real. Then he remember, this had happened only hours ago but he had forgotten. He prayed that he would not forget this time.

            But as he, again, closed his eyes, he remembered nothing of what happened a few minutes ago. His mind drifted off to what he thought might be a memory. He felt like a six year old boy before he was even fully asleep. He would have preferred to stay awake, but he could do nothing while awake. When he was finally asleep, the first thing he saw was a sign that said Knockturn Alley and he was walking with his parents.