Shattered Memories

Shattered Memories

Chapter One

Summer Sunshine and Dementor Death

This summer was much the same as summers past. The sun was blazing hot; it dried up the grass, sucking out the moist greenness, leaving a cracked yellow shell in its place; it evaporated the water faster than the occupants of Privet Drive could drink it. The roads were steamy and scorched, any daring to cross would have to be quick for fear of having the soles of their feet burnt crisp. People sat on their verandas, sipping cool lemonade while children played in the front yard.

All was normal on the plain drive of Privet. Windows were open, allowing a non-existent breeze entrance if it cared to appear. Women stood in their front gardens, pruning their prized flowers with delicate care; with the water ban in place, they were only allowed to hose the gardens three times a week. The lack of nutrients showed clearly with the shriveled petals and drooped leaves of number four's once beautiful roses.

Still, Petunia Dursley was prowling across the dead grass, attempting to entice the flowers to life with a single spray can of water. She was wearing her favorite flowery hat, perched atop her head, hoping to make her neighbors jealous with its intricately woven stitching of colorful flowers. She stood briskly when a boy stalked past the house, his head bowed and eyes cast to the ground. She momentarily sneered, before turning back to the wilted garden in front of her home.

The boy looked briefly to his nosy aunt before continuing on his way. He did not care much for her annoying habit of making him seem like a cockroach with just a well put glare. He did not care much at all these days.

His feet followed the path he had walked each day. The sun above him was burning away at his neck, but he ignored it. He could not do much to prevent himself being burnt; his aunt would not allow him to use the sunscreen even if he did ask.

Harry Potter walked the street of Privet Drive, ignoring the silent glares sent his way and the story that followed him everywhere. He could practically hear the neighbors whispering it as he passed.

"There goes that Potter boy. He's bad news that one. He goes to that school for the insane, St Brutus's. It was so good of Mr. and Mrs. Dursley for taking him in, they are such generous people!"

Harry snorted with distaste. If the Dursley's were generous, Snape was his best friend. If the residents of Privet Drive actually knew the real Dursley's, not the fake imitations they tried so hard to maintain, then they would be with Harry in the abnormal pile.

He left the street he hated so much and walked towards Magnolia Crescent. From there he continued on to the small park currently over-run with small children. He pushed open the gate with a squeak and began searching for a place where he could sit in peace. Soon after he found one; it was a bench beneath a tall tree. As he sat on the vandalized seat, he cast his eyes over the laughing children and smiling adults; his eyes watching but not seeing.

Harry was often wandering off like this these days. His relatives did not speak to him much anymore, which he didn't mind in the least, but still did not allow him to constantly be in the house. So he was forced to roam the streets, his feet taking him places he had visited long before. His aunt and uncle fed him meager amounts of food, just enough to keep him alive. They took the warning given to them quite heavily, so they didn't have him doing house work or the cooking; they didn't have him doing much at all. He just stayed in his room, brooding on things they would not understand.

A small girl passed him, her large blue eyes staring up at him curiously. Harry forced a small smile before a woman ran towards them and carried the child off, only deepening Harry's bad mood. He walked the streets like a zombie, not really knowing or caring where he went. His eyes were so dull and void of life that even his cousin avoided looking into them. He was getting so thin that Dudley's old clothes really were like elephant skin to him. But Harry didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore.

Harry wouldn't even care if Voldemort appeared right at that moment and pointed his wand at him. He would just look the monster in his blood red eyes and take whatever was thrown at him.

But, in his heart, Harry knew he wouldn't really allow the Dark Lord to kill him just like that when he knew the Wizarding World would pay for it. Because that was what it would all come down to. In the end it would be Harry verse Voldemort; Light verse Dark. And if Harry fell, so would all that was good. If the prophecy was right, then it meant Harry was the only one capable of taking down Voldemort for the final time. That fact truly terrified him. He was not ready to fight the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time. He wasn't even sixteen yet!

Harry growled in anger and frustration, slamming his fist into the wooden bench. How he hated Dumbledore.

He hated Dumbledore for keeping so many secrets from him. He hated him for thinking he was always right and had Harry's best interests in mind. And Harry hated Albus Dumbledore for taking Sirius from him. The old man had kept Sirius locked up all summer, thinking it was 'for the best'. And what did it result in? It ended up in having Sirius being killed and Harry having lost another loved one.

But, truly, Harry blamed Dumbledore because he did not want to blame himself. He remembered the talk he had had with the headmaster only a few weeks ago, about the true killer of Sirius. But he still blamed himself.

Harry was the one who didn't practice Occlumency. If he had practiced, then Voldemort would not have been able to place a fake vision in Harry's mind of Sirius being tortured. And Harry would not have fled to the Ministry of Magic with five others only to put himself and his friends in danger. And the Order would not have had to come to their rescue which ended in Sirius being pushed through a mysterious veil in the Death Room.

Just the thought of that day made Harry's body shudder and eyes sting. He remembered that sadistic smile on Bellatrix Lestrange's face as her spell connected with her cousin, forcing him to fall through the arch. Harry could hear her mad laugh ringing in his ears and those dark eyes staring into his own.

"Aaaaaah ... did you love him, little baby Potter?"

Harry swore in anger and winced as a piece of litter at his feet erupted into flames. He quickly put it out, glancing around to see if any of the Muggles had noticed it. Sighing in anxiety, he sank lower back on the uncomfortable seat. He couldn't let his anger take over. That had been the second piece of accidental magic he had caused this summer. The first time was when he just arrived back from the Train Station and Dudley had said something to him about Hermione hugging him. His cousin had bolted from the room when the glass coffee table had shattered. Harry had been grounded for two days without food, not as if it was much different from usual.

His mood had been dark since he had arrived at his relatives and it was all he could do to stop his anger from boiling over. To keep his mind from trailing back to Sirius and the dreaded prophecy, Harry dragged himself to his feet and walked from the park. The sky was growing dark by now and a slight breeze had picked up. It was quite comforting having the cool wind soothe his sun-burnt limbs.

Children were still playing in the front yards as Harry passed, not giving them a second look. Inside, he was so envious of them. They were so free from the weight of the world. They each had something Harry did not have nor would ever have; parents. How he wished he was like them, or even like Dudley. If he was, then he could have an actual family with people who loved him enough to care if he died that day.

As he continued on his silent trek, he thought of the Weasley's. They were the family he wished he had. Even though Mrs Weasley loved him like her own son, it still didn't feel the same. She had her own children, all seven of them, and Harry felt out of place with them. He loved them as he would have his family and parents but still wished he had his own.

Harry slowly neared number four Privet Drive and thanked Merlin that his uncle was not home yet. He took his shoes off at the front door, knowing his aunt would throw a fit if she saw him wearing his old boots in the house. Shutting the door behind him, he immediately spotted his cousin lounging on the sofa. Dudley Dursley had been banned from Boxing for using an improper hit while fighting a boy the previous year. Vernon Dursley had seemed convinced that the judge was being blackmailed by the opposing side and swore he was going to take the case to the authorities.

Due to this lack of exercise, Dudley had resumed his previous form and even gained a few extra pounds. His greedy little hands were hidden inside a packet of crisps as he munched away watching a television program. When Harry entered, the boy twitched slightly when he glanced in his direction.

"Mum wants to see you in the kitchen," the large boy said, not taking his eyes from the screen. Harry furrowed his brow. "Why?" he asked. Dudley grunted in response. Harry sighed and began walking to the kitchen, feeling Dudley's eyes on his back the whole way. When he entered the overly clean kitchen, his aunt Petunia was scrubbing away at the kitchen table, determined to wipe away some dirt that did not exist.

"Dudley said you wanted to see me?" Harry said, his voice hinting no sign of his emotions. The bony face of Petunia Dursley looked up at him and he caught a strange glint in her eyes. Was it sympathy? Shrugging the ridiculous notion away, he looked into the eyes of his aunt. She immediately looked away.

"Yes, Vernon is having the boss of Grunnings over for dinner tonight. He hopes to make a better impression with this one than he did the last," she said snappishly.

"What happened to the last one?" Harry asked curiously. She glared at him before saying, "None of your business. Vernon wants you to stay in your room and you must not make a sound!" she said loudly. "I will not have another incident like the last happening in my home. And if it does, you will be out in the streets, no matter what certain people think!" she said, with a slight flash of the eyes. Harry nodded mechanically.

"Yes, aunt Petunia," he answered, before wondering from the kitchen, leaving a frowning woman behind. Once up in his room, making sure the door was locked and secure, Harry collapsed onto his bed. His arms and face stung from the unrelenting rays of the sun, and hoped it would fade soon.

His room was a mess. Books and clothes littered the floor as well as parchment and quills. His desk was in a shamble, with scrunched up pieces of parchment laying everywhere and the carcasses of mice and toads hanging from Hedwig's cage. His snowy owl was out hunting once more and would be back later that night carrying who knows what. His trunk sat along one wall, the lid open and the contents clearly seen.

His many school books were piled on top of a few Hogwarts robes and hats. Half his broomstick maintenance kit was hanging out, with the handle bar polish on the floor. Even shards of glass could be spotted, having come from a mirror, broken a few weeks ago.

His owl's cage was a mess. Droppings and feathers stuck to the bottom in a thick layer of fifth, even the remains of a few small animals were littered on the tray. Hedwig had yet to return from her flight, and Harry missed her absence. He didn't know what he would do being stuck at the Dursley's all summer without her. She was his last connection to the Wizarding world, his last means of contacting them. If something happened to her, he would be lost.

Around half an hour past with Harry staring blankly at the ceiling, his mind a storm of emotions. The sound of his uncles car pulling up in the drive took Harry to the window. Vernon Dursley was hopping out of his car, carrying to new suits for himself and Dudley to wear. The beefy man vanished inside the front door. Harry strained his hearing and could partially hear his aunt and uncle talking in the hall.

Sighing, Harry turned back around and sat on his bed, staring at the wall. His mind was replaying the events of the previous year and it was making Harry all the angrier. He could see Dolores Umbridge smiling putridly at him, with her flabby toad-like face the image of ugly. He absently rubbed the back of his right hand, where the words I must not tell lies were etched into the back of his hand, from hours of having to do detention, writing with a Blood Quill.

Harry snarled with distinct anger and tore his eyes from the wall where a black mark had been burnt. He couldn't let his anger consume him. Harry began to rummage through his trunk, looking for a book to take his mind from Dolores Umbridge and all the things that had happened in the short space of a month.

Harry hissed in pain when he spiked his finger on a shard of glass while pulling out a thick book. He ignored the throb of pain in his hand as he propped himself on his bed with Practical Defensive Magic and its Uses Against the Dark Arts: Volume One. It was the first book in the set that Sirius and Remus had given him last Christmas. Even though it reminded him of his godfather, Harry found the book extremely interesting and was almost a third through it when another car pulled up in the drive way.

Harry peered down from his window at the couple climbing out of a shiny silver car below. They rang the door bell and Harry heard his cousin's ringing voice.

"May I take your coat, Mr and Mrs Carter?" Harry snorted at how stupid the large boy sounded, before settling back down with his book. The night progressed slowly, with Harry stuck up in his room while his relatives enjoyed a delicious roast meal below. It was nearing nine o'clock when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Harry froze, knowing that the Carter's had not left yet, because he would have heard their car pull away. The steps grew closer to his room and when his doorknob rattled, he quickly grabbed his wand from under his pillow.

He suddenly heard a loud voice proclaiming, "No, it's not that one! It's the door at the end!"

Harry let his breath out slowly as the footsteps headed away from his room. It must have been one of his uncle's visitors, trying to find the bathroom. Once his wand was back beneath his pillow, Harry continued reading Chapter Eleven- the Shield Charm. It followed up on the creator of the Shield Charm, how it could be used and what spells it could protect from. It was a much stronger version of the Protego Charm and weaker than the Barrier Charm, which created an invisible wall at every angle over a considerable distance, which would protect from all spells except the Unforgivables.

He was just beginning chapter sixteen when he heard the front door open and voices echoing in from the open window.

"It was so nice to have you over, Mr and Mrs Carter, please feel free to join us for dinner at any time," came Uncle Vernon's gruff voice. Another voice added, "It was my pleasure, Vernon, and please, call me Henry,"

"Okay, Henry, have a nice drive home!" Then there was the shutting of two doors and the sound of an engine starting up. A moment later the front door shut once more and his uncle was laughing loudly.

"Boy! Come down here!" Vernon called. Harry groaned with displeasure as he marked the page in his book and went downstairs to meet his relatives. Petunia was laughing at something her husband had said while Dudley was perched on the sofa, eating a piece of tart. Harry wondered slowly up to his uncle and looked him in his darty little eyes.

"Yes, sir?" he said, wishing he was upstairs finishing off reading about the Adhesive Charm which, when cast, made the attacker get glued to the floor or wall and unable to move until the counter-charm was spoken. Vernon Dursley's bushy mustache twitched.

"I'm glad to see there was no funny business tonight, boy, and I would like it to stay that way!" the man said, sounding slightly drunk. Harry nodded absently, wondering when he ever did do any funny business.

"Well-good," his uncle said, slightly confused at Harry's lack of retaliation. "Your food is in the oven, eat it quickly and get back to your room, I don't want to see you anymore than I should!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said, walking into the kitchen. He quickly ate his one slice of roast meat and potato, washed his plate and hurriedly went back to his room. At around ten o-clock Harry heard his aunt and uncle's bedroom door shut and Dudley's loud snores echoing from the room beside his own. He sighed as he flipped the page, nearing the section on Body-Enhancing Spells.

oOo

He must have fallen asleep, because Harry awoke a few hours later, his head using the book as a pillow. He groggily looked at the time and realized it was just after midnight. He sat up on his bed and wondered what had woken him when he heard it; a deep rattling, distant but present. With a thumping heart, he tripped to the window and squinted down in the darkness. Harry could barely make out the outline of his uncles car in the drive from the light of the moon. He searched the street outside his home and realized, with a jolt, all the streetlights were out.

His eyes roamed frantically over the front lawn and across the road. A car pulled into the street and was driving down towards number four. As it passed, Harry caught sight of a dark shape from the glow of the headlights. When the car passed, Harry gasped at what he witnessed. A Dementor was standing motionless at the mailbox, its hooded head titled towards the sky. A moment later another appeared in the middle of the road, then another.

Harry was too frightened to move. He could already feel the penetrating cold affecting his body. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't contact the Order because his owl was out hunting and he had no other means of calling for help. With a sickened stomach, he grabbed his wand from beneath his pillow and stumbled from the room.

The hall was dark and silent, with the occasional snore from his uncle or Dudley. Harry stood there for a second, wandering why his relatives couldn't feel the cold sinking into their very bones. Then he heard it. It was coming from his cousins room, a low whimpering. Harry ran to the bedroom door and kicked it open. It was so dark inside that Harry almost tripped over a sock on the floor. Dudley was thrashing in his bed, from one side to the other, sobs escaping his mouth. Moonlight was shining through the un-curtained window. Harry glanced to it and almost died of fright.

A Dementor was hanging suspended in the air, its scabbed hand pointing straight at him. It took all he had to drown out the screams erupting in his head and drag Dudley from his bed. The boy fell to the floor with a heavy thump and jerked awake, tears streaming down his face. His piggy little eyes darted around in the darkness, his large body shaking from fear.

"Dudley!" Harry hissed, trying to pull his cousin to his feet. Dudley looked up at him. "Where-what are you doing?" he whimpered, still searching the room for the unseen fiend.

"Dudley, it's the Dementors! They're here!" he said struggling to help the boy stand. Harry seen Dudley's eyes widen in fear and shock. "Come on!" Harry said again, keeping a firm grip on his wand and two eyes on the Dementor outside. He could hear even more screams now and had faint visions of Sirius falling...

"Dudley, move!" he insisted, pushing the boy from the room. Dudley was visibly shaking now. "Is it those-Demented things?" he whispered fearfully. Harry nodded vigorously. "Stay here while I get your parents, and don't, whatever you do, go near the windows or down the stairs!" Harry said, running to his aunt and uncle's room. He kicked open the door and froze. A Dementor was standing over his uncle, hood pushed back and leaning forward to administer the kiss. His aunt was lying still beside him. Harry hoped she wasn't soulless as he pointed his wand at the soul-sucking demon and thought happy thoughts.

"Expecto Patronum!" he screamed. But only a wisp of white smoke escaped his wand. The screams and coldness were getting too much. He could see Sirius falling through the veil, his once handsome face framed in silent shock. He witnessed Hermione being struck by that purple spell. He tried to help get the brains to stop strangling Ron. He was in the graveyard, with Cedric being killed before him. And he looked into the blood red eyes Voldemort and thought it was over.

Harry tried to push the bad memories away and summoned an image of his friends. He focused on their smiling faces and found the coldness slipping away. With renewed strength he shouted, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" A magnificent silver stag erupted from his wand and forced the Dementor away from his cowering uncle. Harry jumped forward and attempted to shake his aunt awake. She was breathing but would not wake. Harry felt his heat drop at her pale face and clammy hands. She couldn't be!

Harry turned to his uncle to find him in much the same state. Harry was about to levitate them when he heard a deafening scream ring through the house. Forgetting his aunt and uncle, Harry sprinted from the room and stood atop the stairs. Dudley was sitting at the foot of the staircase, shaking in fear as a Dementor approached. Harry could hear the endless rattling and feel the cold once more penetrate his skin. The front door blew open and another Dementor flew in. Dudley jumped and screamed when the door opened of its own accord; Dudley was a muggle and could not see the Dementors but could suffer through their terrible powers.

"No-don't leave me- please mum! NO! Please-don't say that-COME BACK!" Dudley was yelling, lying on his side and folding in on himself. Harry jumped down the stairs, pointing his wand at the Dementors.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he yelled and for the second time that night, Prongs sprang from his wand, basking the dark room in a white light. Harry knelt down to his cousin, seeing that he had fainted. He looked up to find his patronus had pushed the Dementors from the house. But when the stag had left the room, another deathly rattle came from above him. Harry whipped around to see a tall, hooded form swooping towards him from the stairs.

Harry yelled, ducking as it barely missed his head. All thought left his mind as the Dark Creature raised one scabby hand towards him and sucked in the air with a chilly rattle. Freezing cold washed over him as his wand dropped from his hand. Visions of Sirius dying entered his mind. Of Cedric being killed by Wormtail. Hermione being struck by that deadly curse. Then he was in the Death Room, watching Sirius and Bellatrix Lestrange duel. And we watched as his godfather fell backwards as a spell hit him, his back bent in a graceful arc as he disappeared behind the veil. Harry felt like his heart was going to burst from sadness. He screamed in utter sorrow.

The Dementor was closing in on him when a great glowing orb appeared above its head. The Dementor hissed in anger when the bright patronus drove it away from its victim. Harry looked up to see Remus Lupin run through the door, his hair a mess and fear evident in his eyes. He ran towards Harry who was finding it hard to keep his eyes open.

His old professor knelt before him and held something out. Harry looked to see it was a deflated football. He shook his head. "No-the Dursleys," he groaned, his voice hoarse.

"Harry, take it, it's a Portkey, quickly!" Lupin said, thrusting the object into Harry's hands. Before the boy could object, Harry felt a hook behind his navel and the world began to spin.

oOoOoOo

Hey peoples! I thought I might start another sixth year story! This one will be better thought out than the others, I swear!

Please take time to review and tell me what you think!

DW