Harry Potter and the Veil of Souls (Fanfiction)

By Bardess 2004 ( )

Based on the characters of J.K. Rowling (PG-13)

Chapter One

Stormy Weather

Large drops of cold rain lashed the roof at 4 Privet Drive in intermittent, wind-blown waves. The feeble light of candles wavered behind the sheer drapes of two separate windows. Electrical power in Little Whinging had been on and off (mostly off) since the storm began the day before. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley Dursley sat in front of the fireplace downstairs, as candles provided a dim, jumpy light.

Upstairs, alone, Harry Potter lay on his bed, reading one of his textbooks; "A Humourous History of Muggle Magicians, by H. A. Snikker". It shuddered and giggled softly in his grasp. He needed to divert himself from another miserable evening in his uncle's company. Despite being in the Dursley's home, Harry found the candlelight reminiscent of Hogwart's warm, dancing tapers.

Just that evening, it seemed to him he had shared a brief, almost pleasant moment with his aunt as he fetched candles and deftly lit them for her. Storms made Aunt Petunia very nervous, especially since the night Hagrid had come to fetch him on his eleventh birthday. Petunia actually smiled at Harry when he lit the candles, but the moment was shattered when Uncle Vernon barked at him, "Don't set this house on fire, boy, because if you do I'll see to it you burn with it!" Dudley smiled, but was careful to turn away from Harry as he did so. Petunia suddenly busied herself getting a cold supper together. Harry retreated to his room.

Initially, Harry had tried very hard to get along with his relations this summer. Like it or not, Aunt Petunia and his cousin Dudley were the only blood ties to his mother's family he would ever have. On several occasions he attempted to talk to his aunt alone in an effort to mend fences, but somehow Uncle Vernon managed to barge in or otherwise undermine any progress he made. Harry finally gave up trying.

Harry understood that Aunt Petunia resented him, but only recently did he come to appreciate that she resented him out of fear. She was terrified Harry was knowing he truly endangered them all.

Harry appreciated that Petunia should be afraid. What if last summer he had had to return to his aunt and explain that Azkaban's merciless guards had sucked out Dudley's soul? No wonder they feared him. Petunia knew what Dementors were. She probably quite knew a lot about his world but would never admit it.

Still, his aunt's attitude towards him suddenly warmed near the middle of summer break. He'd been walking back from Mrs Figg's house when he saw Gordon and Piers, two of Dudley's chums, sprinting from the park with fear on their faces. Harry heard Dudley scream and ran to the park. Dudley was on the ground, whimpering. Mark Evans, one of Dudley's favorite victims, was grimly watching his older brother, Stewart, repeatedly punch Dudley in the face with his meaty fists. With a grunt of effort, Harry pulled Stewart off and yelled, "That's enough. Get off him!"

Stewart rolled away and jumped up, fists at the ready. "I'll say when this little punk has had enough!" Stewart swung at Harry, who dodged the massive fist, and placed himself between Mark's massive older brother and Dudley.

Mark grabbed his Stewart's arm in alarm. "Don't Stew! That's the Potter kid! The mental one from that St. Brutus' place!"

Dudley lay blubbering on the ground, his nose bleeding. Stewart Evans paused and his eyes narrowed. "I know you, Potter. You've taken more than your fair of thrashings from this little toe rag. Why are you standing up for him, then?"

Harry stared back coolly. "You've made your point, Stewart. He won't touch Mark again, will ya, Duddikins?"

"I p-promise," Dudley blubbered as he tried to stop the blood streaming from his nose.

Stewart glared at Dudley as if he was something that crawled out of the mud. "You even so much at look at my little brother wrong again and I'll kick you into the next world. Got it, Dursley?"

Blood dripped over his leather jacket as Dudley nodded. Stewart sneered at Harry for a minute, then motioned to Mark and left without another word.

"Why'd you do that then?" Dudley demanded. He looked around for his friends but there was no one there but Harry.

Harry didn't have an answer. He only shrugged, then said, "We better get you cleaned up. C'mon. Let's go home."

Home.

For one more summer after this, if he survived, the Dursley's house was to remain his home. Dumbledore, his headmaster at Hogwart's, talked of an ancient magic, and how his mother's sacrifice had saved him. He told Harry his aunt Petunia's willingness to take him had somehow kept him alive. The knowledge that he might not survive another encounter with Voldemort had given Harry a slightly different perspective on living with the Dursley's. As long as he lived with them, they were in danger. They might be used against him just as Sirius had been, even though Voldemort probably sensed Harry loathed them. He smiled. His intense dislike of the Dursleys had probably worked towards increasing their odds of survival.

Harry distracted his aunt and uncle until Dudley could sneak upstairs unseen. When Dudley finally came down to dinner, his clothes were clean, but he still sported blackened, swollen eyes and a still bleeding nose, Petunia screamed and Vernon glared at Harry.

"IT WAS YOU, WASN'T IT?" His uncle's beefy fingers reached out and grabbed Harry by the throat.

"Get off him!" Dudley yelled fiercely and wrenched his father's hands off Harry. "Leave him alone!"

Petunia, Vernon and Harry all stared in disbelief at Dudley. "Just leave him alone," Dudley said again firmly then added. "I got in a fight, alright? It was my own fault."

Harry's jaw dropped. Petunia began to cry. Vernon wanted to know names and Dudley refused to give any.

"He's jinxed the boy." Vernon hissed at Petunia. "Dudder's acting most unnatural." His purple face turned balefully towards Harry again. Harry backed away, but Dudley stood up and glared at his father.

"Harry pulled the other guy off me and drove him away! SO JUST LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

Vernon dropped his hands reluctantly. He was still convinced that Harry was responsible somehow. Through her tears, Petunia stared at Harry with an expression he'd never seen on her face before.

It was gratitude.

Later, when they were alone, Dudley looked at Harry and said, "We're even, right?"

Harry nodded back. He was still in shock that Dudley, of all people, would have stood up to his father for him. "Yeah, alright."

In the weeks that followed, Harry still didn't feel like he would ever be part of the family, but at least the Dursley's were being civil to him, and that was a huge improvement.

After that, the summer had been unusually quiet for Harry. Over two dozen captured Death Eaters were imprisoned in Azkaban. The Ministry of Magic was finally taking Dumbledore's warnings seriously and hunting down Voldemort. The Order of the Phoenix was actively seeking out the remaining Death Eaters, but so far unsuccessfully. Harry was told to not ask questions. He knew why. Voldemort was capable of possessing him, and that meant he was a security risk. Harry was feeling more isolated than ever in some ways, but at least now he understood why.

Harry had been able to take refuge with Mrs Figg when he felt particularly lonely. Figg's baking had improved and so had her conversation. Despite being a squib she was well informed on what went on in the magical world, and always let Harry watch the Muggle news if he wanted to keep up on events that might be tied to Voldemort.

"Drop by anytime, Harry." Mrs Figg beamed at him. "You're better company than cats any day of the week -and you don't shed."

When the power first went out, just after the storm started, Harry ran through the torrential rain and down the street to make certain Mrs Figg was all right. Dripping water all over her rugs, he explained he'd come to see if she needed anything from the shops (since her leg bothered her whenever it rained). Harry liked watching out for Mrs Figg these days. It kept him from dwelling on him own problems too much.

Mrs Figg didn't want for anything, but his concern made her misty-eyed. She wrapped a large sack of spicy cookies and thick caramel squares for Harry to take back to the Durley's. "You're growing so fast and that lot never did feed you well enough," she said with a tight mouth. "At least you'll be back at Hogwarts in a few days and those elves will keep you fed proper." Harry gave her an appreciative smile. With Mrs Figg feeding him several times a week, he wasn't going hungry at all this summer.

Harry had indeed grown. This summer it was obvious he was much taller than Dudley, though Dudley was still much wider than Harry. Dudley resented that Harry made a point of doing one hundred push ups every morning and jogging 5 kilometers every afternoon. Once thin arms now showed hard muscles. He told his aunt it was to keep fit for Quidditch. Harry, however, was keeping fit for more than mere sport. The last battle with the Death Eaters had relied on sheer brawn as well as magical ability and brainpower. If Voldemort somehow managed to take his wand, Harry thought grimly, he would still have his fists.

Only Uncle Vernon remained a thorn in Harry's side until the end of summer. While Vernon never actually DID anything to harm Harry, he certainly felt safe in threatening to. This actually counted as civil behavior from his uncle. Harry hoped his uncle would be out when the Granger's came to fetch him tomorrow. The meetings with the Weasley's had been disasters. Hermione's parents were hosting Harry for a few days before term started. Ron was pleased to see Harry out of Privet Drive but also annoyed he wasn't included in the invite. He had said as much to Harry when they went to Diagon Alley to buy their school supplies earlier that week.

"I mean, it's not as if they don't have the room. They're both dentists. They're LOADED," Ron sulked. They sat nursing butterbeers in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry suspected something was up with Hermione's invitation, but did not say as much to Ron. Harry didn't like feeling left out of things, why would Ron?

"I'm sure it's only because she knows I can't go to the Burrows this year."

Ron had hoped Harry could stay with him again this year, but too much was going on with Ron's parents and the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius had left the Black house to Harry, but it was in trust with Ron's parents until Harry was of age. It was still being used by the Order for meetings. Harry felt he didn't deserve anything considering that Sirius died because of his lack of judgment. The house was valuable, but it was not exactly cozy. Still, he needed to be able to go somewhere after he left the Dursley's. If he survived.

Harry quickly changed the subject. "How'd it go with Percy and the 'reconciliation'?"

"It didn't." Ron scowled. "It started well enough. We all thought that Percy was finally going to get down off his high horse and admit Dad had been right all along. Except, he didn't. Then Fred and George started in on him for that, and then Percy went on and on about how the twins had shamed the family by being owners of a joke shop. That went over like a dung bomb, let me tell you! Then Ginny piped up about how at least Fred and George were sharing their good fortune with the rest of the family and how Percy only ever thought of himself, which is true. Then Percy stomped off in a huff swearing he was done with the lot of us and then-" Ron stopped himself abruptly and rubbed at his eyes. "Well, it got worse. He tore his name off the clock and chucked it in the garden somewhere. Poor mum! She's still looking for it. Her eyes are red from crying all the time." Ron stared into his empty flagon of butterbeer. "Why can't Percy just admit he was WRONG and pull his fat head out of his – ar… no thanks."

A scruffy waitress had come by with a jug to refill their flagons. Harry's was less than half full but he shook his head.

"Dad tries to talk to him at work but Percy just stays 'cool and professional'," Ron continued when the waitress left. "I'll never forgive him for that wanky letter he sent last year advising me to dump you. Frankly, I don't miss the overblown, stupid git. It's just I hate seeing mum and dad so upset."

Harry deeply regretted that he'd brought the subject of Percy up. He clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Oh, he'll come around. You'll see, Ron. C'mon. Let's go get our books, alright?"

Ron shoved the flagon away listlessly. "Yeah. Right."

A few days later, Hermione was deeply immersed in the new Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, 'Shattering Illusions. The Art of Deception and Treachery of Your Own Senses" by Hecatean Malfoy. Harry wondered at the name. Hermione knew everything about her, of course.

"She's Draco's aunt, Lucius' sister, but a bit of a mystery. No one has seen her for years. She went into hiding not long before Voldemort tried to kill you. She's written several books on the subject of illusion and glamour. She's an authority on potions and spells designed to deceive every sense, not just the eyes."

Harry frowned. "She sounds like a Malfoy except she's not secretive about her knowledge. I suppose Draco will be rubbing our noses in this famous family connection as well."

"Mmm. Not likely. Hecatean's the black sheep of the Malfoy family, apparently," Hermione said, "Hasn't spoken to them for years. She's still a nasty piece of work from what I hear.

"How did you find that out?" Harry asked.

"Madame Pomfrey was in Diagon Alley the same day I was and told me everything about her," Hermione explained. "Pomfrey absolutely LOATHES Hecatean Malfoy. In her last year at Hogwarts, Hecatean stole a very rare plant from Madame Sprout that she was never able to replace. The Innubibus Vine. It has great healing properties and it renowned for spell reversals. Madame Sprout was making cuttings for a special potion for the Longbottoms at St. Mungo's when Draco's aunt stole the vines."

Harry scowled. "Now she really sounds like a Malfoy."

Hermione nodded. "However, she does make the subject of illusion interesting. If I'd know half of these spells I could have avoided using that dratted Polyjuice potion altogether and simply done this!" Hermione raised her wand, touched her face and then touched Harry's, and cried "Vide Viduturum!"

Harry felt no different but when he looked at himself in the mirror he saw Hermione standing there in her clothes. The real Hermione came up beside him.

"That's brilliant!" Harry said in Hermione's voice. He reached up to stroke his long, but non-existent bushy hair. He felt something, but it was not proper hair. It was an illusion that fooled his eyes, ears and to a small extent, his hands.

"It worked!" squeaked Hermione. "I'm beside myself!"

"What's the counter spell?" Harry asked eagerly.

Her smile faded quickly. "Oh. Erm… hang on."

"You mean you don't know?" Harry cried, "But the spell will go away after a few minutes, right?"

Hermione looked sheepish. "Er… no. I have to remove it. A really powerful illusion like this can last a lifetime. It's why most wizards prefer the Polyjuice potion even though it's far more difficult to make. The thing with these spells of Hecatean Malfoy's is that only the originating witch or wizard can remove the spell. And they can be rather tricky. That's why they don't teach them to younger students."

Harry blanched and glared at her. "WHAT! Your lifetime or mine?"

"Mine, actually." Hermione quickly scanned a couple of books by Hecatean Malfoy and finally left the room to find the one she needed. Harry sat sulking in a chair, waiting for her to find the counter spell, when the doorbell rang.

Hermione's voice called from upstairs. "Harry, get that, would you? My parents are out."

"I can't go to the door like this!" Harry said furiously.

"Oh, just act normally," she called back in agitation. "It's probably just a package or something."

Harry opened the door cautiously. It was Ron, flushed and out of breath. "Hermione!" he whispered urgently, then glanced around. "Is Harry busy? I need to talk to you alone."

Harry opened his mouth but only a feeble squeak emerged.

"Good." Ron grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him outside. "We came to London to talk to Percy. He lives not far from here, did you know that? No, why would you? Anyway, Mum and Dad are trying to patch things up with him again and asked me to take a walk. I don't have a lot of time. I need to tell to something, but I don't want Harry to know we spoke about it. I mean, I don't know how he'd take it. I mean…"

Harry became alarmed. Ron was wide-eyed and acting as if a lightning bolt might suddenly appear from the sky. Ron suddenly squeezed Harry's hand tightly and pulled Harry into a close embrace.

"Hermione, will you go steady with me?"

Mortified, Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

Ron abruptly released him from the hug, gazed earnestly at a furiously blushing Harry and kept babbling. "Don't answer now. Just think about it and let me know on the Hogwart's Express when we meet up there tomorrow." Ron hesitated, then lifted up Harry's hand, kissed it passionately, and then ran as if Dementor's were after him.

Harry re-entered the house. Distastefully he rubbed Ron's kiss off on his sweater.

"Found it!" Hermione exclaimed as she brandished a thick book. "I'll have that spell off in a tick. Who was at the door?"

Harry looked at her and said curtly. "It wasn't a package."

He told her everything after she removed the spell and immediately regretted it. She would not stop laughing.

"He actually kissed my hand?" she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes.

Harry flushed again. "No. He kissed MY hand, and Hermione, it's NOT funny."

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry but it is," Hermione rubbed the tears of mirth from her eyes. "It's long overdue that he said something, but why did it had to be to you?"

Harry moaned. "We can't tell him about this. He'll crawl into a hole and die."

"I agree," Hermione said as she continued to wipe away her eyes. "since I imagine he didn't want you to think he was muscling in on your time with me."

Harry needed a moment to puzzle that out. "You mean Ron thinks that me and you are… er, interested in each other or something?"

Hermione resumed packing her books. "Or something. I know you've never felt that way about me, Harry, and I'm glad. I've always had a thing for Ron. It's why I was so upset that day he was dissing me. Remember? The day we fought the troll?"

"Oh right," Harry's head was swimming. "So, you do have a thing for Ron?"

Hermione laughed. "Yes. I wouldn't have spent the whole day crying in the loo if I hadn't."

"Then, you'll tell him that on the train?"

"Of course. Now that he's finally admitted he fancies me."

Harry suddenly felt a huge wave of relief. He gazed at Hermione intently and said, "Just promise me one thing."

"Anything, Harry."

"Promise me," said Harry earnestly, "that one day soon, you will explain to me how women work. I just do not understand you lot."

Hermione smirked. "That's easy, Harry. A woman is like a golden snitch. Except you chase them until they catch you."

Harry mulled her comment over as he looked back in the mirror to make certain that it was now his face reflected in it. "That I can understand."