Hi guys, this is my first fanfic!
As a high school student, I will not upload too frequently, so I apologize for any inconveniences.
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Rising from the Ashes | ||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, General, Romance, Tragedy Warnings: Dark Fiction, Disturbing Imagery, Mental Abuse, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Sexual Situations, Violence, Violence/Physical Abuse Rating: PG Reviews: 4 Summary: Harry has finally gotten over the miserable and crushing grief that Sirius' death brought. But just as his life gets back to normal, Harry's world is turned upside down when he is forced to leave Privet Drive after an attack on Little Whinging. H/G, R/H, R/T among other ships. Hitcount: Story Total: 1528 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: |
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RISING FROM THE ASHES Chapter 1: Letters Into The Moon A small street in a Surrey suburb, Privet Drive was a never-changing lane. Nothing had really changed in recent memory. The inhabitants had remained the same, and life went on as it always had. Well, for all but one certain green-eyed 15-year old. Harry Potter lay in his bed, curled up and motionless. He’d barely gotten out of his bed for the last week, and his hair was beginning to get wildly tangled - getting more messy than its normal state, and stubble starting to form on his chin. On his desk, covered by a layer of dust due to unuse, lay a letter, and some mail clippings, unread, and next to the letters sat two owls. One was a large but exhausted grey owl, who upon arriving had fallen unconscious and dropped the letters and the package he was carrying onto the desk. Next to the grey owl stood a haughty snowy owl, impatiently waiting for her human to stop moping and get his letter from the desk, clicking her beak every now and then. But Harry remained unresponsive. He played the scene that haunted him over and over again in his mind. The twisted, evil, witch cursing the laughing, benign, wizard into the Veil. His godfather, never to be seen again. And it was his fault. If he had learned Occlumency. If he’d fought better. If he’d leapt and saved Sirius from falling into the veil. There were so many things he’d done wrong, and in doing so he’d lost the person he cared the most about in the world, leading his friends into danger at the same time. He was finally shaken from his near-slumber when his owl, Hedwig, had started to feel lonely without the company of her faithful companion. Growing frustrated with Harry’s unresponsiveness, she flew over to his bed and pecked him on the hand, repeatedly, until he sat up in bed. Wincing from the pain, he got up and then he realized - it was July 8th, at 1 AM. It’d been an entire week since he’d gotten home. As he got up, he became painfully aware of his needs and sprinted to the bathroom. But that only alerted him to how thirsty and hungry he was. He crept downstairs, ensuring that he didn’t make any noise (although he might have accidentally stepped on a loose floorboard at one point), and grabbed some water and a cheese and ham sandwich. After gorging on food for 15 minutes, he went back to his room, grabbed his letters - and the package which smelled strongly like homemade treacle tart. He pulled out a letter from the top of the pile, and opened it to a half-page of prim script. Dear Harry, How are you? I hope you’re not wallowing in depression and you’re leading your normal life. You’re eating, right? And sleeping? And, most importantly, have you even started your summer homework yet? Harry chuckled as he read this.. Some things never change, he thought. You must be devastated, but you can’t let that stop you from leading your normal life. If you need someone to talk to, you can talk to me. I’ve found a few books talking about getting over grief. I’m currently in Russia with my parents, in Moscow. I’ve managed to evade talking to them about You-Know-Who, I mean, Voldemort, for the most part, but they know what’s going on. They’re quite unhappy about it, but I’ve convinced them I’ll be safe. If they knew the full extent of what was going on, they might stop me from coming back. I know you may not be in the mood to, but please do respond. I really would like to hear from you. Love, Hermione He folded the letter and put it back on the desk. A typical Hermione letter, but even though the prying was somewhat annoying he was glad that his friend cared about him so much. He grabbed the next letter and grinned as he recognized Ron Weasley’s untidy handwriting. Hey mate, How’re you? How are the Muggles treating you? If they’re treating you badly, I’ll call up Gred and Forge. They should be able to put them right again. I still laugh whenever I think of Dudley’s 3-foot tongue. That was brilliant. But seriously, how are you? Sirius’ death was hard on all of us, but especially you. I can understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but I guess you can tell me if you want. I hope Hermione hasn’t sent you a letter talking about getting over grief yet. She can be bloody mental when she wants to be, mate. Mum’s saying that you should be able to join us at the Burrow soon, probably in a week. Something about protection wards and them needing to be renewed for your safety. Didn’t understand half of it, but I hope I can see you soon, mate (and so does Mum) Ron. Harry grinned while shaking his head at the same time at Ron’s letter. He knew his best friend meant well and nothing else, but he was annoyed that Ron was being so careful around him, treating him so delicately. But he’d be able to leave Privet Drive in a week! Feeling much better, Harry grabbed the last letter of the stack, puzzling over who it could be and ripping it open. Hey Harry, Well, I’ve never actually written to you before, so I don’t know how to begin this letter. It’s my fault that we haven’t been better friends before - because I was so embarrassed about nearly killing you in the Chamber of Secrets and there was also that stupid crush I used to have. But I figure that you’re thinking the same thing, that you led us into a death trap, it’s your fault Sirius is dead., etc. Because you’re a noble git. But I’m worried for you, yeah, yeah, you don’t need to hear it, but I am. I was never as close to him as you were, but he was a fun uncle. He was like Fred and George with a mix of Bill - my three favorite brothers, and that’s what he became to me in the little time we had together = a brother. And, yeah, it was devastating. I know you may hate me for everything I’ve done in the past, but I’d like to start over. I’d like to be friends and get to know you better, because we both could use someone to lean on in hard times - and you’re the only other person I know who’s gone through what I have (and much worse) with Voldemort. Love, Ginny Upon finishing the letter, Harry cursed himself. Damn, Potter, he thought, you’re an idiot. It was true, after all, that he had neglected Ginny even though she’d gone through hell in the Chamber of Secrets, and still considered her ‘Ron’s little sister’. This letter, however, completely contradicted that. She was much more than just Ron’s little sister, and Harry rued himself for not realizing that earlier. She had faced Voldemort, and come out stronger. He silently vowed that he would make a more conscious effort to reach out to Ginny - and, well, now that it occurred to him, Neville and Luna as well. After all, they’d been the ones who had come to his aid when he had most needed it. Thinking of that night again, grief overcame him once more and he fell asleep. -- Harry woke up at 11 the next morning, invigorated and ready to get his life back on the track. Grabbing his glasses, he sat at his desk and grabbed his quill, and a few spare sheets of parchment to write some letters. The parchment on the top of the pile, however, was no ordinary parchment. Harry picked it up, and then a realization suddenly hit him. There was someone who understood what he was going through and he could confide him. With that thought in mind, he set down and began to write. Dear Professor Lupin, How are you? I’ve been so self-absorbed in my guilt and unable to think of anyone else that I completely forgot that I’m not the only one who’s lost someone extremely close to them recently. I feel like it’s my fault that he’s gone and I’ve hurt you by making you lose your best friend and the last other Marauder. I’ve been neglecting you since I met Sirius, because I was too engrossed in the possibility of a future with him. But, I’d like to make amends for that. I’d like to talk to you. Because you’re the only person I know who I can talk to (and feel close enough to) to talk about my problems without being treated like I’m walking on eggshells or being judged. Can we meet at the playground near Privet Drive as soon as possible (not at my uncle’s place, for obvious reasons) - if possible, maybe today around the evening - my uncle and aunt are going out for a dinner. I’m looking forward to hearing from you - and hopefully, seeing you. From, Harry He tied the letter to Hedwig’s leg, and watched as the snowy owl flew out into the early morning sun. He figured he’d write to Neville, Luna, and Hermione later, and then got two spare sheets of parchment - which he made sure were real sheets of parchment - before dipping his quill in ink and setting it to paper. Hey mate, Well, let’s just say the Muggles are keeping out of the way, given what Moody told them. I mean, a guy with a magical eye and a wooden leg has got to be scary to muggles who are scared enough of your parents. It’s been hard with him gone - I’ve been managing, though. I’m trying to get over my grief, although I doubt Hermione would believe me - she did, like you predicted, send me a letter asking me to talk about how I’m feeling. I don’t think she’s mental though. She’s just doing what she believes is the best method of helping me, no doubt aided by some book. Now, I’ve got a proposition to make to you. I have a feeling that I’m going to get the Quidditch Captaincy this year, but I think you’d be better off with it. You know tactics significantly better than I do, and thus you’d be better than me (just don’t turn into an Oliver Wood, or let the Weasley Temper get in the way of you). Looking forward to seeing you (for once, soon), Harry Hey Ginny, I was quite surprised, pleasantly surprised at that you wrote to me. I’m sorry for being such a prat to you all these years. I always looked at you, for so long, as Ron’s little sister. Please don’t Bat Bogey me for that. But after this letter - and you helping me in the Ministry - you’re more than that to me. You’re Ginny, not my best mate’s sister, and yes, I’d love to correspond with someone who’s not Ron and Hermione. I love them both to pieces, but one’s too inquisitive and one’s just..blunt and rude..at times. Sirius was absolutely devastating as a loss to me. When the war was over, he was going to become what I had desperately craved for so long - a parent. And then I did something so damn stupid that got him killed. Whoops, that’s me being a ‘noble git’ as you call it, again. But I can’t help feel that it’s my fault. For nearly a week, I barely ate and slept - I guess you could say I wasn’t in the best shape. Now, I’m being a git, so I’d like to talk with you. It may have been three years, but how are you doing with everything that happened with Voldemort then? I’ve been so ridiculously insensitive, but you can talk to me. In general, how are you? How is your ankle at the moment? I never apologized for leading you into that Ministry trap, but I’m sorry. You risked your life for nothing that night. I really am sorry. So, yeah, if you want me as a friend, I’m willing to be your friend. I’m really sorry for neglecting you for so long. Your friend, Harry Upon the completion of the second letter, Harry attached the two letters to Errol’s leg, sent him off, and then looked around his room. It was a complete and utter mess. Newspapers were strewn throughout the room, obscuring the package that Errol had dropped off. He first picked up the lumpy package and gingerly unwrapped it. Harry’s nose had been right - it was treacle tart, his favorite wizarding dessert. He got up from his desk, and quietly walked to the stairs, where he opened the loose floorboard and placed the tart there. Closing the floorboard, he stubbed his toe on the stair. “Ow!,” he exclaimed, and then kicked himself, eliciting another gasp of pain. He quietly ran up to his room, but it was to no avail. His uncle had spotted him. Vernon Dursley hadn’t changed a bit in terms of personality for as long as Harry could remember, but his hair had started to grey and he no longer looked particularly menacing when he glared at Harry. “Ah good, you’re awake, boy,” Uncle Vernon said. “I have some things that I need you to do. Go, and wash the dishes from last night, or you’ll pay. I will not have you using my house for free while you do absolutely nothing.” “Let me just send a letter to my friend, Mad-Eye. I’m sure you remember him. I was just telling him about my summer,” Harry responded, calmly, struggling to contain the grin that came up as he visualized Mad-Eye arriving on the doorstep of No. 4, Privet Drive, and what he would do to his uncle. Looking up, he noticed his uncle had paled greatly at the threat of the arrival of the grizzled old Auror. “All right, boy,” the balding man said, visibly straining to control himself, but failing as his face had turned a combination of red, purple, and white. “Just get out of my sight and stay in your room until your aunt or I call you!” Laughing inside, Harry went back upstairs, and into the bathroom, to shower. Examining himself in the mirror, he realized how absolutely ridiculous he looked. He had a fairly decent amount of stubble and his hair had reached the middle of his neck. He decided to shave but keep his hair long - it would help him not be as recognizable, while not looking completely ridiculous, and the idea of doing something rebellious and simple at the same time enthralled him. Examining his reflection, he realized that the lines of worry that had been creasing his face for a week weren’t there for the first time in a week. He was ready to move on from Sirius’ death, no matter how hard it would be, and face his destiny. But for now, he’d take a nap. --- An hour later, Hedwig flew inside, and dutifully hooted as she dropped a letter into Harry’s lap. He eagerly ripped it open and began to read. Hello Harry, Yes, I’d love to meet you. It really does mean a great deal to me that you reached out. Given the time you indicated, let’s meet at 5:00 in the playground. I am looking forward to seeing you there, Harry. Helping out a friend when they need it - that’s something your father would have done. Remus Upon reading the last sentence, Harry swelled with pride, and his face lit up with a genuine smile for the first time since..well..he couldn’t remember when. His father had always been a source of inspiration - with a minor taint when he had seen how his father had bullied his Snape - to the orphan Harry - and he wanted nothing more than to be like his parents. Putting down the letter, he took a look at the small pile of newspaper clippings on his desk. Infuriatingly, he couldn’t find anything about the activity of the Death Eaters (unless Umbridge counted - she had been arrested), although he did find a ray of good news. FUDGE SACKED: AMELIA BONES ELECTED AS NEW MINISTER OF MAGIC By Stewart Kane-Peters LONDON - In a session of the Wizengamot that lasted three days, today, on July 7th, a verdict has finally been reached. Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore, recently reinstated to his former post, announced the result: that Cornelius Fudge had, indeed, been sacked. “The Wizengamot determined Fudge to have been an incompetent minister who had worked against the Ministry’s best interests, and by denying the return of [You-Know-Who], he has cost the Ministry valuable time,” said Dumbledore on why the Wizengamot sacked Fudge. It has been clear for a while that after news of the Battle of the Department of Mysteries leaked - in which Dumbledore was instrumental in capturing the Death Eaters - and Voldemort was confirmed to be returned, that Fudge was going to be sacked. Indeed, the arrest of Lucius Malfoy, who was strongly connected with the Minister himself, raised more questions about the true loyalties of the Minister. However, the question had remained: who was to be his replacement? The Prophet’s inside source reports that no more than 4 candidates were brought forth as potential replacements; Albus Dumbledore, who rejected any possibility of becoming minister; Kingsley Shacklebolt, Auror, who politely declined the post, citing a preference to remain his current position; Rufus Scrimgeour, the head of the Auror Office; and Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. After a few days of voting, Madam Bones won the final vote: 65% of the Wizengamot voted for her in one of the more one-sided elections. Scrimgeour was reported as being graceful as defeat - he will remain in his post. Madam Bones’ replacement in the DMLE will be none other than Arthur Weasley, who previously worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Upon being elected, Bones said, “As Minister, I plan on moving the Ministry forward from the age of laziness. The Ministry will seek to become more efficient in fighting the war against You-Know-Who and beyond the war into an age of prosperity, without the looming threat of a Dark Wizard taking over the universe.” Bones’ modern view will no doubt be largely accepted in this era of uncertainty, which will certainly culminate in a war which determines the fate of the world. – Harry noted with great happiness that the foolish Minister who had made his life miserable for a year had been sacked, and replaced by the woman who had been just to him in his trial. He hoped that the Ministry would become a force again, but he doubted it would happen in a short time - the transition from conservative to progressive would take a long time. He was also very happy to see that Mr. Weasley had become the head of the DMLE. No one really deserved happiness more than the Weasley family, who had served as a surrogate family to Harry since he was 12. Ron, Ginny, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George -- all of them. As he fondly thought, he remembered that Fred and George’s business must be coming into full flow soon - after all, they’d flown out of school into the world well over a month ago - they would no doubt be extremely successful. Finishing his thoughts, Harry went downstairs, made himself a few sandwiches, and ate ravenously. Although he’d eaten at 1:00 in the morning, the lack of food was seriously starting to take its toll on Harry, and he hurried upstairs, opened the floorboard, grabbed his treacle tart, and stuffed himself with it, noting with some irony that stuffing one’s self is rather Dudley-esque behavior. Harry spent the next few hours beginning his summer readings, figuring that he wouldn’t do much at the Burrow with the distraction of two of his friends. However, as the time grew closer to 5:00, he grew more and more anxious and felt unable to concentrate. He spent the next 30 minutes pacing around the room, thinking about what he would say to Remus - but nothing came to him. At 4:55, Harry slipped out of the house and headed to the playground. He had just made himself comfortable when he heard a crack behind him - unmistakably the crack of Apparition. He whipped around, drawing his wand, but he didn’t see anyone. He heard something to his right, and turned around, his wand pointed. From a previously empty spot, Remus Lupin appeared, throwing off a Disillusionment Charm. Only in his mid 30s, Remus showed signs of aging that many his age never had to, including grey hair and small amounts of wrinkles - attributed to the fact that he was a werewolf and that he had suffered much tragedy in his life. Harry kept his wand pointed. “Sorry, Remus, but I’ve got to check it’s you. What is Hermione’s worst fear?” he said, grinning as he thought of Hermione bursting out of the trunk containing the boggart in their 3rd year, screaming her head off. Remus smiled and responded, “I do believe that her boggart was Professor McGonagall telling her that she had failed everything.” Harry lowered his wand, nodding, and hugged his former professor, the hug holding far more emotion than it seemed to. “I had to check it really was you,” he said, as he motioned towards the bench and the two sat. “Harry, I don’t mind at all. It was the right thing to do - checking that I was not an impostor.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, surveying one another. It was Remus who spoke first; he said, “Harry, I’m sure that you are tired of hearing this, but how are you doing?” he asked, features shifting into concern. Harry nodded. He had been expecting this question. “Really, Professor, I’m fine now. I didn’t do well at all until yesterday, but I’m getting over it. I didn’t eat and barely slept for the first few days, but I’m doing better. I figure that if I keep on whining over Sirius, I’m never going to get over it and we’re going to lose the war. Today I started work on my summer homework and I’m ready to get back into action.” “Please don’t call me Professor, Harry, I last taught you over two years ago. But I’m impressed that you got over Sirius’ death as quickly as you did. Many weaker wizards would still be deep in the throes of depression,” noted Remus. “So, how are you? How’s a certain Metamorphmagus doing?” Remus blushed a dark shade of red, but Harry caught the hint of a smile as Remus said, “Well, uh, Tonks finally convinced me to go out with her. In fact, I’m meeting her and her parents sometime in the next hour.” “That’s great! Did you give her too much trouble about you being a werewolf and ‘too old’ to her?” questioned Harry cheekily. “Those were actually my arguments, but she wore me down. We’ve been a couple for a few weeks now,” said Remus, blushing more than he already was. “Sirius would’ve been so happy for you two. He’d want you to find someone, and not mope around. It’s the thought of him - and my parents - that made me get out of my bed this morning,” responded Harry. “Harry, you continue to impress me with how wise you are for your age. Yes, Sirius, James, and Lily would all be absolutely devastated to see you give up. They are there, in your heart, even if you can’t see them. They’re in mine as well,” Remus replied, now looking much more serious. Harry started to respond, but he was cut off by a loud scream in the distance. He watched, transfixed, rooted to the spot, as a company car -- Uncle Vernon’s -- rounded the corner, out of control -- and then exploded, leaving nothing behind, except for two bodies -- his aunt and uncle’s remains. And then..the Dark Mark shot up into the sky. ‘Death Eaters. Stay down, and silent, where no one can see you. I’m going to alert Dumbledore and I’ll be back as soon as possible,” whispered a visibly shaking Remus. As Harry waited, a dozen hooded figures materialized from the shadows. He heard whispering - and his name - multiple times, but he couldn’t distinctly make out what they were saying. He made to move closer to them, but was stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder. “Don’t move, Potter,” said a deep, calm, and reassuring voice, which Harry knew to be of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Looking around him, he saw Remus and Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, the ex-Auror who had fought at the Ministry. “Alright, Remus. You get Potter and the Potter cousin to safety. Kingsley and I are going to go take some Death Eaters’ buttocks off,” said the grizzled ex-Auror. Harry had to restrain his barely concealed laughter at this ridiculous statement, despite the seriousity of the situation. Kingsley and Moody stepped outside, instantly drawing the fire of the Death Eaters. Death Eater after Death Eater fell; Harry could tell that this was a relatively inexperienced group of Death Eaters. However, as he said that, Kingsley stumbled but managed to stand his ground, dueling fiercely with a hooded Death Eater. Kingsley sent a curse at the Death Eater, and the hood slipped. It was Lucius Malfoy. In a rage, Harry tried to get up and attack the hated Death Eater - who was supposed to be in Azkaban - but gentle yet strong arms kept him down. He looked up to see that Remus was still there. Remus silently disillusioned him, and beckoned for Harry to follow him, and the two silently crept around, through the houses, onto the main road of Privet Drive. As they were running to the Dursleys’ home, a Death Eater stepped out of the shadows into the path; Harry made to draw his wand but before he could, Remus cast a Stunner, and a blazing red light hit the Death Eater square in the chest, knocking him unconscious. Harry and Remus silently reached 4 Privet Drive, and went inside. “Dudley?” Harry called out, hoping that his cousin was still alive. Very slowly, a figure rose from behind the sofa, fists clenched. It was Harry’s cousin, Dudley. Two years of hard dieting had made him muscular and extremely strong, but upon sighting Harry, his hard expression turned into one of extreme sadness. “Harry - Mum and Dad? They’re not actually -- are they?” Grimly, Harry nodded. “Alright, Dudley. This is Remus Lupin. He’s going to protect you while I go upstairs and pack everything I need. Then we’re going to get out of here.” Without waiting for a response, Harry sprinted upstairs, packed whatever he could, and in 5 minutes was downstairs with his trunk. He glanced at Remus, who was tense and drawn. “Remus, where are we going?” asked Harry. “We’re going to go to the Tonkses. I feel like something’s wrong -- no key Death Eaters besides that piece of vermin Malfoy were spotted, meaning that they’re probably planning another attack. And I need to check that she’s okay.” “Dudley, hold on to Remus’ left hand,” ordered Harry, as he grasped Remus’ right hand and then Remus turned on the spot to Apparate and Harry’s lungs were being compressed, as were the other parts of his body - he felt like he was being forced into a tube - and then it was all over, as Remus, Dudley - who looked worse than Harry felt, and Harry himself had arrived at the Tonks’ house. The three began the trek from the Apparition spot to the Tonkses’ mansion. As they approached, they saw lights flashing all over the house. And then Harry saw a burst of green light, and a man fall to the ground, dead. Above the din, he heard an all too familiar feminine cackle, one that made his hair stand on end, and without thinking, he sprinted into the night. |
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