DISCLAIMER: If I owned Harry Potter, would you honestly think I’d be writing this fic instead of swimming in my own private pool of money?
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Over the Horizon | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/AB Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: R Reviews: 88 Summary: Imagine a world where Voldemort had won. Now imagine a post Hogwarts' Battle Harry stumbling into it... One man: Harry Potter. One goal: to survive. One quest: to do the impossible. One word: Power. Hitcount: Story Total: 52650; Chapter Total: 6153 Author's Notes: |
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Strange Happenings As a new day began to rise upon the horizon, a ray of sunshine sneaked through a window into Hogwarts’ Infirmary, slowly warming the cold stones of the castle floor. A lone raven perched itself atop a window sill as if it were happy just to be able to fly on that bright morning. Spreading its wings, the bird dug its beak into them, carefully tending its feathers, basking delightedly in the new day’s warmth. An occasional cough, whimper and a hurried swish of a cloak perturbed the otherwise silent Infirmary; a sanctuary to those who had been wounded in the final battle. It was peaceful and quiet, the Infirmary lay there as an alternate world, oblivious to the raucous party that was being celebrated outside its protective walls. The people inside either slept peacefully, uttered feeble moans of pain or simply didn’t move or breathe at all. The most unusual thing about the Infirmary on that June morning, even stranger than the random and colourful jets of light the matron produced with a wand, was a tabby, strict-looking cat that was unmoving next to a boy’s bed, sitting on a white and uncomfortable stool. The cat kept its eyes fixed on its surroundings, varying between the sleeping boy and the rest of the Hospital Wing, inconspicuously denying entrance to almost anyone who sought to wake up the boy. The way in which the feline looked at the sleeping figure would make anyone believe it was human, for in those eyes one could see affection, admiration, angst and many other feelings so accurate that no animal could ever dream of having. Only the footsteps of a pair of hurried feet made the cat raise its head, ready to bite and scratch the curious people who wanted to visit the boy. As it realised the approaching figure was none other than the Hogwarts’ matron, it let out the breath that it had been unwittingly holding. ‘Still sleeping, I suppose?’ the nurse asked. Where a cat had been, now stood a tall, proud and stern woman; still sitting on the same uncomfortable stool. ‘Yes, he hasn’t woken up at all.’ The nurse sighed in defeat, waving her wand around the unconscious teen, soft golden glows emitting from his body. ‘I still can’t understand anything about what has happened to him,’ she whispered, annoyed, as she held his head with one arm and made him drink a nasty-looking potion with her right hand. ‘I mean, he miraculously comes back to life when all of the Death Eaters and Him thought him dead — and we all know what must’ve happened for them to think that; he does the impossible by defeating You-Know-Who, and then, two hours later, Merlin knows why, he suddenly collapses and has been knocked out for three days,’ she finished, completely confused. Pushing the bangs away from the peaceful teen, the matron narrowed her eyes and said in a barely audible tone, ‘and that’s not all. I have been checking his magical levels, fearing that his situation might be due to magical exhaustion, but it seems that Mr Potter here has once again broken all the rules -’ ‘What do you mean by that, Poppy?’ Professor McGonagall asked sharply, tearing her eyes from the steady rise and fall of his breathing chest. The matron sighed again, exhausted. ‘His magic hasn’t been compromised at all; actually, up until now, it has triplicated, and we all know this boy was never a squib.’ Professor McGonagall’s eyes were fixed on her, wide-open in disbelief. ‘B-but surely y-you must have made a mistake running the tests -’ Madam Pomfrey shook her head glumly. ‘At first, I thought that I had done something wrong, but after repeating the same process another five times, I had to admit that what I was seeing was, in fact, accurate. By Merlin, what runs through Mr Potter’s veins isn’t blood, it’s pure magic!’ There were few things that could surprise Professor McGonagall; the strict, stern and fair Transfiguration teacher for nearly half a century, and one of those things just happened to be the sleeping teenager in front of her. ‘But — how?’ she sputtered. ‘I don’t know,’ the matron answered dejectedly, rubbing her temples, ‘I simply can’t explain the how, I only know it’s the truth; it’s as if something had been holding back his raw magical power, and then, just as unexpectedly, it has been unleashed,’ she muttered, more to herself than to the professor, still trying to make any sense out of it. ‘So you might think the demise -?’ Madam Pomfrey nodded her head. ‘Yes, but I don’t know why. And this has nothing to what a wizard goes through when he turns of age, his powers haven’t been blocked, they’ve simply been multiplying themselves!’ Unbeknownst to them, the boy they were talking about wasn’t sleeping at all; he was, in fact, very much awake and as puzzled and confused as the two women. ‘I’ll have a take with Albus’s portrait, see if he can throw some light on the matter, because I am completely at a loss as to why this has happened,’ said Professor McGonagall, her brain going coming up with hundreds of ideas, each one as unlikely as the next. The matron walked away, her mind set on tending her other patients while the professor glanced warmly at Harry, waving her right arm at a pile of very much disorganised presents and tokens from his well-wishers, organising the mounting heap of gifts. ‘So young,’ she muttered sadly, gazing intently upon the boy on the bed. She raised an arm a moved his unruly hair off his face, her heart constricting at the sight of her student. The boy had been many times in the Infirmary; Merlin, so many that he should even have a private bed for his own, the number of times he had been injured. And yet, she’d never seen him like she saw him then, a solid and tough but young and innocent warrior. She didn’t want to wake him up, and yet, she knew she had to. How much she hated sometimes being in charge. ‘Harry, please wake up.’ Knowing that Professor McGonagall was not a woman who did things without a good reason, he thought it best to stop pretending to be asleep. Yawning slightly, Harry opened his eyes faking grogginess, reaching out to grab his glasses. ‘Yes, professor?’ She wriggled her hands uncomfortably; she was not going to enjoy delivering the news. ‘How are you feeling?’ ‘I’m fine, professor,’ answered Harry nonplussed, sensing as if his Transfiguration teacher was procrastinating. Some of his confusion must’ve shown on his face, because just as soon as he had replied, Professor McGonagall started talking again, her voice being at the same time gentle and business-like manner. ‘I am very sorry to tell you that the Ministry — what’s left of it — is getting restless; they want you to give a full testimony of what you’ve been doing these past months and especially what happened a few nights ago,’ she said as quick as possible. Feigning confusion, Harry asked. ‘A few nights ago?’ McGonagall sighed. ‘Yes, you fainted shortly after you defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. What happened to you?’ ‘I dunno. I just sort of like some sudden spurge through my veins, and that’s all I can remember,’ Harry answered embarrassed. ‘Yes, that brings me to another bizarre topic,’ she said, rubbing her temples tiredly. And so, she told him about his sudden increase of raw magical power, about their surprise at something like that happening because it was something completely unheard of, she hypothesised it was the reason he’d fainted, but all in all, no-one was any wiser. ‘And it’s not similar to what happens when a wizard becomes seventeen.’ Not faking this time his confusion, Harry asked, ‘er, what happens when a wizard turns seventeen?’ Professor McGonagall looked at him sharply, as if trying to figure out if he was being dumb on purpose or genuinely ignorant of many of the wizarding way. ‘You are telling me, Mr Potter, that you didn’t feel anything different on your last birthday?’ Quite uneasily, Harry replied. ‘Er, no, I felt the same way only I was from then on allowed to perform magic outside the school without receiving any of Mafalda Hopkirk’s letters.’ ‘Have you never wondered why adulthood in the wizarding world is reached at the age of seventeen and not later, when the wizard or witch is more emotionally mature?’ Apparently, Harry learnt from the Transfiguration teacher that a wizard became an adult at seventeen because it was when he reached his full powers; when he was supposed to be completely able of controlling his powers and therefore preventing outbursts of accidental and nasty piece of magic. It was at that moment when the blocks that were placed naturally since the wizard was conceived were lifted. But he, Harry, had to be yet again an exception. ‘Because not only that event did not happen last July the thirty-first, but your raw magical power has increased instead of being unblocked. I don’t suppose you have any thoughts as to why this may have happened?’ Millions of theories ran through Harry’s brain, and yet, all of them seemed completely laughable… all, except one; but that sole idea was so nasty and it brought back such horrible memories that he didn’t want to be right on that one. He didn’t know whether to tell the McGonagall about it, it had been a matter between Dumbledore and himself after all. Still, he thought that if she was thrown in the secret of the almost impossible task the former Headmaster had left him to do; she may understand better where he came from and maybe help him get out of the Ministry’s clutches. Making up his mind, he went to grab his wand. ‘Mr Potter — what are you doing?’ ‘I need to cast a Privacy Charm,’ he whispered. Understanding dawned on her face and she put an arm over his and performed the spell herself, making sure there was no way anyone could overhear or eavesdrop on them. ‘Your magic will be unstable before you learn how to control it,’ she explained. Harry nodded and suddenly his voice turned from being fairly pleasant to strict and commanding, ‘do I have your word that what I am about to tell you will not leave this room?’ She narrowed her eyes at him for a fleeting instant, but before he knew it, she raised her wand and pointed it at her heart. ‘I, Minerva Gwendolyn McGonagall swear upon my magic that what Harry James Potter is about to confide in me shall never be willingly told be me to any other living being,’ she said as her wand produced some golden rays around her before everything was back to normal. Not expecting a formal Wizard’s Oath but thoroughly satisfied, Harry sighed tiredly and inquired. ‘What do you know about Horcruxes, professor?’ And so Harry told her how it all began with the infamous diary in his second year, the diary enchanted to possess anyone who wrote on it, about Professor Dumbledore’s suspicions about what it really was. He told her about the ring and that it somehow cursed Dumbledore’s hand when he destroyed it, omitting the fact of what the ring truly was. He told her about the next Horcrux, the locket, but when he reached the point where it had turned out to be a fake one, his voice constricted. Allowing himself a few seconds to steady his voice, he continued, trying very hard not to join his teacher’s tears. He told her about Kreacher, Regulus Black and the real locket in Umbridge’s possession, satisfied when he saw her angered at the former High Inquisitor being hexed, he told her about the doe patronus, the Gryffindor Sword, Hufflepuff’s cup at Gringotts, the dragon ride, Ravenclaw’s diadem, Nagini… Professor McGonagall was a terrific audience, she knew when to gasp, when to cry, when to smile, and yet she barely ever interrupted him. ‘But, Harry, what does this thing have to do with you and your increased powers?’ she asked blankly. Harry smiled sadly. ‘What Voldemort was never aware of is that, the night he went to kill me, he unwittingly created another Horcrux.’ Her eyes went wide-open in horror as she understood what she was being told. ‘Yes — I was a Horcrux.’ ‘But how did you get rid of it?’ Shaking his head at his teacher’s confused behaviour, he said ‘by surviving again the Killing Curse.’ By her reaction, he knew that she wasn’t expecting that. So he launched on a brief explanation about meeting Voldemort, fully aware that he had to sacrifice himself in order to defeat the Dark Lord, but coming back to life seconds later, having miraculously succeeded in expelling the Horcrux out of him and surviving. He told her he thought, thought rather than knew, that he hadn’t been killed this time because his blood and his mother’s protection resided in Voldemort’s body since his resurrection. He was positive he wasn’t immune to the Killing Curse, but that he wasn’t willing to prove his thoughts about that particular subject right. ‘So, basically, the Horcrux in me may have been poisoning me, just as much as my blood may have been poisoning Voldemort,’ he finished. Professor McGonagall looked as if she’d just swallowed a very sour lemon and Harry had to fight the urge to laugh at her comical expression. It stopped being funny, however, after ten minutes of utter silence. ‘Professor?’ Shaking a little, she raised her voice, ‘right. Don’t worry I shall never utter a single word about this in all my life, and if I have to, I shall curse half of the Ministry if they get too nosy,’ she said, seeing Harry’s eyes cloud in anger. ‘Those pompous gits will never be told about this! I don’t want anyone getting ideas about Voldemort’s Horcruxes!’ he said fiercely. ‘I know, Harry, believe me I know. However something must be done about it; but time is against us and I don’t think I’ll be able to delay them summoning you much longer, and although Kingsley is doing his best to appease them, he isn’t Merlin or Albus Dumbledore. ‘On another note, I wanted to talk to you about two other things. Firstly, when you faced You-Know- oh, alright, Voldemort — you talked about Severus Snape-’ ‘In the end, he was on our side; Dumbledore did have an iron-clad reason to believe his loyalty towards him,’ Harry interrupted her. ‘There’s a pensive in your office, use it and you’ll see exactly why Dumbledore believed him. Just don’t think too badly about him after seeing those memories.’ After shooting him an inquiring look, she continued talking. ‘So I suppose he should receive a proper burial?’ Harry nodded his head vigorously. ‘Snape was a complete git and everyone knows we despised each other; but I swear that if he hadn’t been such a sly imbecile, he should have been a Gryffindor. I reckon he should be buried next to Dumbledore, just as he would’ve wanted.’ ‘You are going to have a difficult time with that,’ she warned. ‘Yes, I suppose. But maybe being the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One and the Boy-Who-Conquered or whatever people call me these days will help me with it.’ ‘I’m certain it will,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘I’ll make sure his body is separated from the rest of the dead Death Eaters’ bodies,’ she added and Harry nodded. ‘Secondly, I wanted to tell you about Voldemort’s body.’ Harry arched an eyebrow questioningly. ‘What about it?’ ‘Well, it — it happens to be impossible to approach it or destroy it, so many of us think that it must be you the one to get rid of it,’ she told him apologetically. ‘Oh, alright. As soon as Madam Pomfrey lets me out I will do it.’ She smiled at him again and rose to leave, lifting all the Privacy and Repelling Charms around his bed. ‘Thank you, Harry.’ And with that, Professor McGonagall left as the matron approached him, potions and remedies in her hands, leaving Harry with some very disturbing thoughts. -oOoOoOoOo- Eveni ng found Harry opening the doors of the Infirmary, ready to leave and ready to dispose of what was left of Tom Marvolo Riddle, more commonly known as Lord Voldemort. Walking through them, he cast on himself a Disillusionment Charm to avoid unwanted attention. Careful not to bump into the students that were patrolling the corridors, probably wanting to go and see the Great Harry Potter, he walked his way to the Gryffindor common room, hoping that he would find Ron and Hermione there. Twice he nearly crashed into two groups of giggling girls. In Harry’s opinion, giggling should be banned. He had never been able to puzzle girls out; maybe he would ask Ginny about it sometime later, because everyone knew that Hermione was just too weird. At the thought of Ginny, Harry’s heart skipped a beat. What would he do, now the threat of having her snatched away by Voldemort was over? Would she still want him? Would she have moved on? As egoistically as it sounded to himself, Harry had never wanted her to move on; but, then again, he had never expected to be able to survive the war. So now that he was free to do whatever he pleased, would she still take him? Harry shook his head, cursing himself for letting his hopes soar. He would have to talk to Ginny eventually, but not today. Today and from then on he had to let her see that he trusted her, he must tell her, just as he had told McGonagall, what he had been up to. It was only fair for her to know if he wanted to continue a relationship with her. Then, as the thought crossed his mind, he suddenly stopped, and had to hold onto all of his will not to jump in glee. No more secrets! No more lies! Of course, he couldn’t just tell everyone in the wizarding world about his quest; although for another wizard like Voldemort an extraordinary amount of magical power was needed, nothing stopped Dark Lord-wannabes to try and make themselves Horcruxes, and that was something that had to be avoided at all costs. Well, he had told McGonagall, and maybe he would have to clue Kingsley in, seeing as he was acting Minister for Magic at the moment, but Ginny just had to know it. Thanking his Seeker reflexes, Harry stepped away avoiding the impending crash with a bunch of Gryffindor boys that had just stepped out of the portrait hole. Before the portrait could resume its former position blocking the entrance of the Gryffindor common room, Harry quickly climbed through it and walked into the room. Looking around, he saw that nothing had changed drastically; at least the décor hadn’t, but he noticed that the air around him was a lot less tense and that the students there were laughing and joking with mirth carelessly because the war was over. After a quick scan around the room, he realised that neither Ron nor Hermione were there, and he thought that they might be on the boys’ dorm, hopefully not doing anything that would scar Harry for life. He approached the door gingerly and pressed his ear against it, trying to her any sound in the room. He sighed in relief; if they were there, they didn’t appear to be doing any improper activities. Lifting the Disillusionment Charm off himself, he opened the door slowly, peaking inside. After a quick glance, he saw that the dorm was empty. Huffing frustrated, he sat on the edge of Ron’s bed. All of the hangings were open except for what would have been his seventh-year four-poster, which had all its hangings drawn close. Since Ron had probably slept in his dorm lately, and Seamus and Neville had been at Hogwarts all year around, it was normal they were both open. He was curious, however, as to why Dean’s bed had its sheets piled in a mess, since he had not been at school that year to begin with. He shuddered at the thought of what might have been happening inside the boys’ dormitory while he hadn’t been there. He only hoped his bed was still blissfully unaware of the physical action that may happen between a boy and a girl. Standing up, he scratched his head and willed himself to leave. ‘Where the blazes are they?’ he muttered. Suddenly and unexpectedly, he heard something moving behind him and spun on his heels, casting the wand towards his bed, where the sound had come from. Totally unprepared for it, he saw in slow motion as the curtains from his four-poster opened only to reveal a very dishevelled girl inside, Ginny. Lowering his wand, he looked at her, confused. ‘Gin, what -’ But before he ever finished the sentence, he was tackled to the ground by her tight embrace and landed quite unceremoniously on his backside, unable to respond. He didn’t know how, or when, or even why, but just unexpectedly as he’d discovered her to be on his bed, he found himself kissing her with a force he had never thought he had. Pulling her even closer to him, he realised how much he had missed her and wondered how on earth he had managed to convince himself he could ever give up on what they were doing at the moment. Although slim and petite, Ginny had him totally pinned to the floor. Crushing her body against his, she emitted a spontaneous moan that moved something inside Harry. One hand firmly on her hair, he let his other hand roam to her leg and pulled it closer towards him. She groaned again and moved a bit, straddling his middle and setting his nerves on fire. Curiously enough, just as he had had that feeling, he suddenly began to be deliriously warm, but, unfortunately, it had nothing to do with Ginny and what she was doing to him. He opened his eyes groggily and after a moment of disbelief, he pulled Ginny away and grabbed his wand from his trousers. ‘What -’ But then Ginny saw, clearly, what. Half of the Gryffindor room was on fire. ‘Aguamenti! Aguamenti! Aguamenti!’ Harry shouted at the top of his lungs, running through the dorm and pointing his wand at every corner, trying to put out the flames that were consuming it. ‘McGonagall’s going to kill me,’ said Harry, taking in the harm done to the room. A tornado would have left it in a better state: hangings reduced to ashes, half-burnt pieces of wood spread on the floor, blackened windows, cracked stones… ‘At least that was a hell of a passionate snog. I never thought it would be possible to set fire on something just by making out. I don’t even want to think what would have happened if we had done more than just kissing,’ she finished, smirking triumphantly seeing how much she caused Harry to blush. ‘Ginny, it’s not funny’ he berated her, trying to sound authoritative. ‘Oh yes it is. You are going to have a new title, Harry!’ she said between laughs, clutching her sides. ‘Harry Potter-and-the-Order-of-the-snog-First-C lass; and he’s on fire, girls!’ she added, doing a perfect imitation of those very much annoying advertisement voices he had so often heard on the TV at the Dursleys’. Harry scowled at her and turned to see what he could do to improve the state of the room. After a bunch of spells and charms, the dorm had somewhat improved but he still couldn’t pass it as if he had never been there. Sighing, he admitted he would have to get Hermione to help him with this too, miffed at the thought on how much he depended on her outstanding brains. He only hoped Ron would never get a wind of what had happened between his sister and himself there. He would try to come with a convincing excuse, anyway. ‘Come on,’ he said, pulling an amused Ginny out of the room. What if the whole incident had to do with what he had overheard and then talked with McGonagall at the Hospital Wing? It that was the case then things were going to be much more complicated than what he had thought before. That type of things angered him to no extent; just when the bloody effing war was over, he now had to worry about not killing Ginny off accidentally. ‘Are you alright?’ Ginny asked behind him. Harry frowned and scratched his scar. ‘I’m fine — it’s just that something really weird happened before and, well, I’ll tell you later, I promise. But first, I need to find Ron and Hermione. Do you know where they are?’ ‘Yep, they are actually waiting for you at the Great Hall. They thought you’d go straight there. I wasn’t sure you would, so I went back to your dorm. Merlin, glad I did so!’ she smirked at him. Walking silently by Ginny’s side and heading to the Great Hall, Harry tried to ignore the many awed looks he was receiving and the many girls who were desperately trying to catch his eye. Oh, for the love of Agrippa! This was just starting to be absolutely ridiculous! He wasn’t anything special; he was a sexy hunk like Sirius had been, he didn’t have the charm or the wit to make females swoon at his feet, he didn’t have anything! He was just a tall, thin, seventeen year-old who happened to have defeated — And then, it hit him. Voldemort was dead. It was over. There was no crazy madman after his blood anymore. No more luring nightmares. No scar-induced pain. It took all of his self-control to continue walking towards the Great Hall and not stop to jump in joy. He couldn’t manage to wipe off the gleeful smile on his lips, though. A small white hand grabbing his own pulled him out of his reverie as he locked his eyes with Ginny’s questioningly. ‘I must warn you, there will be some Ministry employees there to ensure Voldemort is dead, and they’ll probably stick their overlarge noses up your ass,’ she told him. Harry snorted. Trust Ginny to try to give him a warning and make it look like some kind of perversion. ‘The Ministry can go and blast itself for all I care,’ he snarled. She smiled brightly at him. ‘Or, I could just Bat-Bogey Hex them.’ Harry’s lips turned upwards, fully aware of how much she loved that curse. One might say she had an unhealthy obsession with it, then number of times she’d threatened her brothers with that particular hex. Admittedly, Harry was very much scared of Ginny when she was ticked off. ‘What has happened to the Death Eaters that were captured?’ Harry asked, remembering that he hadn’t questioned McGonagall earlier that day. Ginny rubbed her chin thoughtfully. ‘They are all huddled together in the Great Hall next to Voldemort’s body, chained and unarmed,’ she told him, oblivious to the fact that she was making him nervous, ‘honestly, I don’t know what the Ministry’s thinking; I mean, leaving those psychopaths next to their very much lunatic and very much dead leader, Merlin, it’s just asking them to attack us at any moment!’ Harry nodded glumly as he reached the doors to the Great Hall, and before he knew it, he was spitting bushy brown hairs out of his mouth. Merlin, Hermione did really have a ‘hugging people thing’! ‘How are you feeling? Are you alright? Why did you pass out? Are you hurting? Are you tired? Do you want to do this later?’ she asked frantically, searching his face looking for some weakness to send him straight to the infirmary again. Disentangling himself from her strong grip, as Ginny shot him an amused smile and Ron rolled his eyes, Harry told her that he was fine, thank you very much indeed. Moving his eyes around the hall, he saw that there was quite a crowd gathered inside; all the teachers, the Weasleys, what was left of the Order, the DA, the corpse of Lord Voldemort, very much in the same position as when his own Avada Kedavra hit him, the bunch of living Death Eaters, Malfoys included, Ministry officials and, much to his chagrin, that slimy and disgusting toad, Dolores Jane Umbridge. His face set with a grimace, he nodded to Kingsley and said loud enough for everyone to hear, ‘right, let’s get this over and done with,’ and he pulled out his wand and pointed it at Voldemort, ‘Mobilcorpus!’ Gasps followed him as he moved the floating body to the entrance doors, apparently no-one had been able to do anything to it before Harry had come. ‘Potter, what are you doing?’ Umbridge asked him with her ever so annoying girlish voice. Harry shot her a scathing look and very calmly answered, the body floating beside him, ‘I’m going to blast Voldemort’s body to smithereens just in case some tries to use it as an Inferius or something much worse.’ Not paying any attention to flinches at Voldemort’s self-made name, or the looks of utmost hatred some people were giving him, he proceeded to walk outside with the corpse behind him, noticing that Ron and Hermione were also forcing the Death Eaters to the grounds to, as they whispered to him, make them see with their own eyes that their master was gone forever. He settled the body just next to the lake, and before he did anything to get rid of it, something clicked in his mind. Something wasn’t right, something was off, and he didn’t like at all the self-satisfied smirk that was playing on Umbridge’s lips. ‘Where’s Voldemort’s wand?’ he voiced. The gathered crowd stared at him, some of them at a loss about what he was talking about because they had seen him only a few nights ago getting the wand the Dark Lord had in his possession, others who had their eyes opened in understanding, some were thinking that Potter was definitely off his rocker, just like Dumbledore had been and the rest of them truly afraid at what the Boy-Who-Conquered might do if he didn’t get what he wanted. The only one who was actually trying to hide her smile was Umbridge. Harry sighed. After Voldemort, Umbridge was second in his “I hate you” list. Not taking any notice in what he was doing, as anger flooded through his veins, he waved his wand and the wand burst out from Umbridge’s bag, zooming towards him as he swiftly caught it in the air. ‘How dare you, Potter?’ Umbridge sneered. ‘That’s my wand! I command you to give it back to me this instant or -’ ‘Or nothing, Umbridge. This is not your wand but Voldemort’s wand -’ Umbridge’s nostrils flared, making her look like a very red and very constipated ugly toad. ‘That’s a lie, that’s my wand!’ Harry raised his fist and, although he would’ve very much wanted to shoot her a very rude gesture, he refrained himself and let everyone see the scars on the back of his hand, the words she made him draw on it with his own blood still etched on his otherwise smooth skin. ‘I must not tell lies, professor. And really, Umbridge, that’s twice you stolen something that wasn’t yours. Funny both objects are rightfully mine, isn’t it?’ he humoured her. For a brief moment, Harry thought his former teacher was going to blow up just like his Aunt Marge ad done five years ago. She was so red and her eyes were popping out from her sockets so much that she no longer looked comical at all. She was, in fact, quite frightening. Before Umbridge could try to reach out and kill Harry with her bare stubby hands, Professor McGonagall stepped in front of her and shot her eyes at Harry. ‘Mr Potter, those are some very serious accusations. If you can’t provide any evidence -’ Harry smiled warmly at her, fully aware that she was dying to get some revenge on the ugly toad. ’Actually, professor, I do have some evidence. Firstly, there used to be a locket in my house with an S engraved upon it that Madam Umbridge here claimed to be hers as she was oh-so-delightfully a part of the Selwyn family. Unfortunately for her, that S does not stand for Selwyn but for Slytherin, and seeing that it had been in my household for such a long time, one could say that she was holding a property of mine without my consent. For any further doubt, you may ask Kreacher the house elf or Mundungus Fletcher,’ he said grinning widely at the horrified look on Umbridge’s face and Ginny’s predatory smirk. ‘Secondly, if this,’ he started, raising the wand in his hand, ‘is indeed Lord Voldemort’s wand, a very funny event should happen when it battles against my own wand; if it isn’t then I can only accuse Umbridge of one sole theft and not two.’ Handing his own wand to Ginny, he told her to shoot a Disarming Spell at him when he told her to do so, brandishing himself Voldemort’s wand. Standing twenty feet away from her, he nodded at her and hey both cried at the same time, ‘Expelliarmus!’ Twin beams of red light connected and, to everyone’s utter amazement, a phoenix song filled the room. Just as Harry had planned, his own wand in Ginny’s hands was forcing Voldemort’s wand into the Priori Incatatem almost effortlessly given that it had already twice bested the Dark Lord’s wand. He was bloody well going to prove it was Voldemort’s wand and he was well going to do it on that revolting toad’s face surprising the hell out of her! No-one save Harry knew what was going to happen next, and before everyone’s eyes, screams filled the hall as the smoky figure of the former Muggle Studies professor emerged from the wand. Bouncing on the floor, Charity Burbage said aloud, ‘You-Know-Who killed me with this wand and then fed my body to his pet snake Nagini!’ More screams and more blurry forms emerged from the connection, many of them unknown to Harry. Some time later, the echo of Madam Bones came out and Harry knew he was almost there… two more figures… a scream… another figure… a silver hand… the echo of Cedric Diggory… Frank Bryce… Bertha Jorkins… and then, suddenly, the smoky figures of Lily and James Potter rose, flanking his son, much to everyone’s shock. Lily Potter turned to her son, smiling silently at him as James grinned widely, ‘blimey, Harry! Dumbledore taught you well! You sure have some wicked style!’ Harry nodded at them sadly, knowing that he had already proved his point and that he couldn’t hold the connection much longer, ‘thank you Dad, Mum,’ he whispered, his voice breaking. ‘Let go, son’ James urged him gently as Harry broke the connection. An army of echos by his side, Harry looked at the gathered living crowd before him defiantly, as if daring them to accuse him of murdering his own parents at the age of one. No-one said a word, no-one barely dared to breathe as the figures shone brightly and then vanished. ‘If you are all wondering what was that about,’ Harry broke the silence, glaring at Umbridge, ‘I have just proven that I was right and that this is in fact Lord Voldemort’s wand since his wand and my own are brothers and therefore can’t battle properly against each other.’ ‘Priori Incantatem,’ McGonagall said. ‘Precisely,’ Harry agreed. ‘So, Umbridge, you have stolen two of my things. Why on earth you’d want to keep Voldemort’s wand, I don’t know; and, quite frankly, I prefer it stays like that,’ he told her angrily, ‘and before you say it isn’t my wand, as Mr Ollivander once told me, it’s the wand that chooses the wizard, and since I’ve killed Voldemort, the wand is rightfully mine.’ ‘Crikey, he’s so sexy when he goes all commando,’ Ginny whispered. Covering his blush and ignoring the stares of the rest of the people around, Harry set his heart to carry out the task given to him, destroy what was left of Lord Voldemort, the darkest wizard of all times. Walking down to the lake shore, where he had left the corpse, Harry gathered all of his strength and sighed heavily. He really didn’t know what on Circe’s name he had done to deserve every single thing that had ever happened to him. Why had he to be marked? Why had his parents have to die for him? Why did Sirius and Dumbledore die for him, too? Why must he be in the headlights every time Tom Riddle’s name came up? Why couldn’t everyone just bloody leave him alone? Oh well, there was no point in crying over split potion; he might just as well get a move on and hopefully, from then on, he would finally be able to put his past behind him a seek a future without any sort of that torture. Letting the warm June air fill his lungs, he stared down at the lifeless form of what had once been an orphan boy like himself, Tom Marvolo Riddle. It was uncanny how similar and yet how different they were. Both homeless, not having known for a good ten years what being liked and appreciated was, not having known they were magical until they had been accepted into Hogwarts… two forsaken boys fated to be enemies. Even in his death, Voldemort was capable of sending shivers down Harry’s spine, those red gleaming eyes so full of hatred, of anguish, of power. But they were empty, void, and Harry waved his hand unwittingly, closing them and lifting his body again to float a few feet above the lake’s surface. The empty shell of his long time nemesis stood before him unmoving but not any peaceful, and Harry felt his insides burn knowing that the carcass before him was the reason he didn’t have his parents, the reason why he had lost Sirius and Dumbledore, the reason Cedric and so many others had died. So much hatred and suffering - and for what? For glory? For power? Everything was useless without your friends… Some people gasped at his change, but Harry didn’t even register as his eyes turned to the deepest midnight blue, the air around him cracking with magical power. Letting his magic unwind, he poured on the dead body all of the anguish it had caused him when it was still alive, when it had been his terrifying mortal enemy: Lord Voldemort, Heir of Slytherin. Suddenly, blue flames engulfed the body of Tom Riddle, burning his flesh and his robes, ready to be turned into nothing but ashes, erasing what remained of his reign of terror. No-one dared to make a sound, everyone stood transfixed as step by step dust began falling to the lake’s surface and then — A shiver. A bloodcurdling scream. -oOoOoOoOo- DICLAIM ER: If I owned Harry Potter, would you honestly think I’d be writing this fic instead of swimming in my own private pool of money? A/N: Hi! Well I hope you liked the first chapter. I don't want to anger any of those who loved the DH, but I really felt extremely disappointed in it, so I decided to write a new fic. Sometimes you will end up thinking that it is way too imaginative, but I hope you end up liking it. Be warned, ther will be loads of action and adventure, and while I am a big Harry/Ginny fan, my main focus is not their developing relationship, although it will always be present. I will try to write this story in a way in which the characters grow into adulthood and at the same time continue with my plot to make them sweat to win the fight. Some things may turn nasty, few may turn pretty, but I will try to do my best. Well, I think it’s pretty long for a first chapter, I hope you like it. So, next chapter, which is called “Chapter two: Where Nothing Ends and Everything Begins” will be up soon enough. It’s already been written, I just want to check a few things before posting it. And, don’t worry, a bit of some action starts. I mean, I just can’t start with all the action/adventure on the first two chapters, it’d be so weird, and anyway, I have to plan it carefully so as to not give everything away on the first chapters. But still, I am not planning on writing chapters where nothing happens, that would just piss me off so much. Many thanks to Scurvy Ragamuffin (FFnet) who has oh-not-so-subtly pushed my ass into writing this. She actually really likes my plot and has been on my case ever since I started talking to her about it via messenger. You rule, Scurvy! Kudos to anyone who guesses who screamed. Please REVIEW! It only takes a few seconds to do so! Please pretty please with cherries on top! Cheers Vermouth Member of the Siriusan Order |
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