For the Heir

A Promise To The Stars

Arabella Figg stared out of the window into the night sky. The Advance Guard was supposed to be here tonight to pick Harry up. Until then, she was supposed to watch over the Dursley house and Magnolia Crescent. Dumbledore didn't reveal much about why Harry needed to be moved. Something about a dagger, Voldemort, and blood bonds.

She heard the sharp CRACK of wizards and witches apparating in. They were probably at Magnolia Crescent, the nearest apparation point not affected by the wards around Privet Drive. And there they were. Arabella could barely make them out in the dim light. She waved from the window, but was not acknowledged.

The Advance Guard (or so she thought) made their way toward the house, and the man in the lead (she supposed it was Remus) unlocked the door. They flooded inside. She waited for a while for them to make their way back outside with Harry.

They were still inside after quite a while. Arabella was starting to get worried.

She heard another CRACK from the apparation point. Who could this be? The Advance Guard had already gone into the house, didn't they? This group of wizards and witches started making their way toward her house. Oh, why did she have to be a squib?

She stood looking for a while longer, until she recognized the leader was Remus Lupin.

Oh, God! Who were the people who already went in? She rushed outside in her bathrobe and slippers, looking flustered.

"Oh, Remus! Harry..."

Remus reached to calm the panicky woman. "Arabella, what happened? What about Harry?"

"About twenty minutes ago... a group apparated... couldn't see who it was... thought it was you... went inside..."

At that moment, an eerie green glow enveloped Number Four, Privet Drive. A green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth leered above the Order members.

"Death Eaters," growled Moody. "They got here before us. But how did they get in? There are protections, wards around the house."

A shrill cry pierced the air, jolting them into motion.

'Harry... what's happening to you?' thought Remus as he rushed toward the house, his thoughts mirrored by the rest of the Advance Guard.

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"Crucio," whispered Voldemort.

Harry writhed on the ground. White-hot knives burned into his skin, his bones were on fire. His throat tore as he screamed. It was agony beyond agony. He would like nothing better than to lose consciousness, to die. Then, at least, the pain would be gone.

The curse finally let up, after what seemed like hours, yet the pain in his scar remained. His scar seemed to have split open, and a thick, sticky substance rolled down his face.

The Death Eaters jeered and mocked. Harry gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the pain in his scar. He wiped the blood off of his face, looking Voldemort straight in the face defiantly, not bothering to hide the hatred he felt for the creature standing in front of him.

"What's the matter, Harry? Have you had enough already? Don't say you want our little game to end so soon," mocked Voldemort. "Death Eaters," he barked out suddenly. They snapped to attention, not wanting the same treatment Harry was getting. "Someone should be coming to rescue our little guest soon. You know what to do with him." The Death Eaters glided outside again.

Voldemort turned his attention back to Harry. "We wouldn't want you to leave so soon, now would we? Crucio."

Harry dodged, similar to the way he did in the graveyard. Voldemort was prepared for this, though. "Petrificus partialus. " Harry's legs froze in place. "No, no, no, Harry. Running isn't the answer. But I do want you to be able to writhe on the floor... so entertaining, isn't it? Now, where were we? Ah, yes...Crucio."

Harry braced himself for the pain, but only heard someone else's screams. He cracked open an eye, and saw the Dursleys suffering a fate he wouldn't wish on anyone.

"I wouldn't want you to go mad so soon, Harry. Consider this your little break. You should be glad I so enjoy Muggle torture." Voldemort held the curse a couple more seconds before uttering, "Avada Kedavra."

"No!" screamed Harry, helplessly watching another person die, ignoring the blood trickling down his face. Vernon Dursley slumped down on the ground, his expression of fear frozen upon his lifeless face.

"And for you." He turned toward Petunia, smirking. "Lily's annoying sister. Time for you to join her. You know, I had so much fun killing her and her little husband. Hopefully you'll be the same way. First, let's see you kill off your own son. Accio knife." A knife shot from the kitchen into Voldemort's hand, gleaming dangerously. "Imperio."

He threw the knife at Petunia, which she caught. She advanced toward Dudley, brandishing the blade.

"Mum... Mum..." whimpered Dudley scooting away from her. Petunia kept advancing.

Harry turned away, but he was not able to block out Dudley's screams as the knife drove into him, again and again.

After a while, the screams died down, and Harry turned back toward Voldemort, and the Dursleys, tears gleaming in his eyes. And as soon as he saw the spectacle, he wished he hadn't turned around. Dudley was lying in a pool of his own blood, stab wounds coating his large body. His throat was slit open, and Petunia still hovered above the carcass, knife raised.

Petunia suddenly came to her senses as the spell was lifted. She took one glance at the body of her son, the knife held high in her hands, and the blood running down her arms and nightdress. Then she plunged the knife into her own heart.

The copper tang of freshly spilt blood and the sight of his dead family hit him. He felt sick and nauseous, blood pouring down his face mingling with the tears. They had not been much of a family, yet they were still family. And now they were gone, just like Cedric and Sirius before them.

And, for the first real time, Harry understood what made Voldemort so great and terrible all those years back. And he understood why wizards and witches still feared to speak his name. He truly was a monster, one who had to be destroyed. He tore families apart, killed without mercy, and was a symbol of pure evil. Harry had heard and known these things before, but seeing it firsthand really brought it home.

And he knew: This was what he was fighting against. This was what the whole Order was fighting against.

And he knew: This was what he must destroy.

"Excellent. I must say, that was quite amusing, don't you agree, Harry? Well, now that that's over, I must get back to you." Voldemort spoke softly and menacingly. "Let's start again, shall we? Crucio."

Again, that white-hot pain filtered throughout Harry's body. It was only lifted when footsteps clattered on the front porch, agonizing minutes after it started. Voldemort snarled, "You're lucky, boy. I won't kill you this time. I want you to suffer more before you die. But as a last parting gift, Incipere."

Harry watched as the spell hit him, but didn't feel any different. What did that spell do, anyway?

"And if I were you, I'd watch my friends closely, or the same thing that happened to your pathetic Muggle relatives will happen to them." With that bone-chilling warning, Voldemort disapparated with a CRACK.

Remus Lupin, looking worse for the wear, closely followed by Nymphadora Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody, burst inside just as Voldemort disapparated. Remus rushed to Harry, who was still shaking from the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse, blood slowly dripping from the infamous lightning-shaped scar. Tonks stopped in her tracks, gasping at the scene in front of her. Moody started to curse Voldemort and the Death Eaters under his breath.

"Harry, Harry, are you all right?" asked Remus.

"I'll only be all right when I kill Voldemort for good," Harry venomously stated. The others started in surprise at the statement. What had happened to Harry in his brief encounter with Voldemort that left him so bold and determined?

Harry tried to reach for his broken glasses, but fell back with a sharp cry of pain.

"Easy there, Potter. I'm guessing that you're suffering from the after-effects of the Cruciatus?" Moody gruffly asked. Harry nodded, though he immediately wished he hadn't. He was hit by a sense of vertigo, as the world seemed to tilt. He wondered if it was part of that spell that Voldemort cast on him as a 'parting gift.'

"Can you stand?" Remus looked concernedly at Harry.

"Partial body bind," returned Harry.

"Ah...finite incantatem." With Remus and Tonks's help, Harry slowly got to his feet, knees shaking but eyes burning bright with determination. They made their way outside, the Dark Mark still leering above the battle scene.

"I will only be all right when that mark is gone forever, and with it the creature it represents. I will only be all right when I defeat Voldemort once and for all. And I promise that everyone he and his Death Eaters killed will be avenged." With that silent promise to the night sky, Harry made his way to Mrs. Figg's, awaiting Dumbledore.

Sirius, the Dog Star, shone brightly that night.