|Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun
Author: Lord umbrex PM
AU past OP-After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to survive his final years in Hogwarts and live his new life around people he knows will become Death Eaters. Can he beat his prejudices and give people a chance, or will he crumble under the pressure?Rated: Fiction T - English - Harry P. & Bellatrix L. - Chapters: 29 - Words: 196,037 - Reviews: 724 - Favs: 930 - Follows: 1,259 - Updated: 02-08-13 - Published: 09-19-10 - id: 6337450
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun
Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.
Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?
A/N: If you are new to my writing, you'll see that I like to take things slowly in the beginning, with short and concise chapters to get things started. The chapters will lengthen with time, of course, just like in my previous stories. Also, this story itself won't be nearly as long as my last Harry Potter story, and there will be time skips from chapter to chapter be it days, weeks, or a month at a time. My aim is to have the story completed within twenty-five chapters.
S/N 2: Either way, I hope you enjoy this! Review and tell me what you think!
Chapter 1: The News is Always Bad
It was a hot summer afternoon that found fifteen year old Harry Potter sitting in his room inside the house of number 4 Privet Drive, reading through the Daily Prophet as his white snowy owl Hedwig hooted softly in her cage. As he finished up the page he was reading, he looked over to her with a smile and then jumped up from his bed, grabbed an owl treat, and gently pushed it through the iron cage bars, allowing the female owl to nibble on the cookie-like treat in his hand. "Sorry I can't let you out, girl," He said, as his eyes drifted over to the window, and then immediately to the street below, where he saw the petunia bushes across the street bristle, though there was no wind of which to speak. Trying to get a better look at the environs below, his eyes squinted through his glasses at the shrubs, and with maximum effort, he could just barely make out the silhouette of a figure. Without the need to ponder or guess, he instantly knew who it was: Nymphadora Tonks.
Over the last few weeks and ever since he had left Hogwarts for summer holiday, Tonks had been his primary sentinel sent from the Order of the Phoenix, protecting him from any and all of the dangers that Voldemort and his Death Eaters represented. She stood guard for hours, most of the time staying outside, hidden by the Disillusionment Charm, but sometimes secretly coming into the house to visit him. Unlike most of his other guards, such as Emmeline Vance or Kingsley Shacklebolt, she knew that Harry needed to talk to someone, and instead of being silent and protecting him from outside forces like she was told to do by the Order, she sneaked into his room to protect him from the internal force of depression that she knew was consuming him deep down inside. While it was a simple act on Tonks' part, Harry was extremely thankful for it because he knew that if she didn't talk to him, he would have been driven mad, and as a result, would have probably ran off and done something stupid as he usually did in other like situations.
While many did not know or just overlooked it, the truth of the matter was that he was grieving and Tonks was there to help him through the process. She knew that it had only been three weeks since his godfather and her own cousin, Sirius Black, had died that night in the Ministry of Magic. What she didn't know, however, was that every night he would dream about the duel that Sirius had with his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, and every night he'd wake up in a cold sweat at the sound of her cackle—her harsh, cruel cackle, taunting him, stringing him along as he chased her through the halls of the Ministry. The laugh, which was so high pitched that it made him shiver to the bone in an instant, was etched into his mind, into his memories, into his subconscious. Every time he blinked, he saw Sirius and Bellatrix battling, he saw Sirius get hit with the red curse that sent him through the veil, which was a sight that infused him with both undeniable sadness at the thought of Sirius' death and unbridled anger at the thought of Bellatrix killing him. But then, those thoughts quickly turned into regret, with Harry knowing that it was his fault that all of it happened. If he had only just listened, instead of running off, perhaps, perhaps Sirius would still be alive and would be around to help him out with the other thing that sat heavy on his mind.
Unbeknownst to anyone other than he and Dumbledore, it had also been three weeks since he first found out the existence of that cursed prophecy about him and Voldemort, a prophecy that seemed to be the cause of all of his troubles in life. After all, his parents died protecting him from Voldemort because of it; his godfather died trying to protect him, after he foolishly went to the Ministry in a plot concocted by Voldemort in order to get his hands on the prophecy; it was the reason why he was sent to his miserable aunt and uncle to live with as a child; it was the reason why he had to be protected by the entire Order, with all the members risking their own lives for his. He still didn't know how he felt about it, even with it being on his mind nearly every minute of every day since he had been told of it by Dumbledore. What kind of powers unknown did he possess that Voldemort didn't? Voldemort was, unfortunately, a very powerful wizard in his own right, and all Harry was, was a student going into his sixth year at Hogwarts, barely making his way through the classes.
On top of all of that, he was also very worried about what was happening in the outside world while he was held up in the safety of his aunt and uncle's house like a coward. Even though he couldn't gather much information while in the confines of Privet Drive, he perused the Daily and Nightly Prophet everyday and night, searching for whatever information that the paper had about the Dark Lord. While he was thrilled that the rest of the country had finally understood that the Dark Lord really was back, he couldn't help but roll his eyes when they anointed him the Chosen One, the wizard who would finally defeat Voldemort once and for all. Just a few weeks ago they were cursing him as a liar and a scammer, a grifter who was trying to bamboozle the public, a wizard who was just trying to keep and enhance his fame, but now they wanted him to come and help them? Instead of being the Boy Who Lies, he was now back to being the Boy Who Lives, a moniker that he couldn't help but feel disgusted about because it reminded him of the horrible deaths of his parents.
With a sigh, he sat back down on his bed, pulling a Defense Against the Dark Arts book onto his lap to read. He knew that, if he was to stand a chance against Voldemort, he would really need to apply himself to learning, something that he admittedly hadn't done during his first five years in the wizarding world. It wasn't that he was lazy or averse to applying himself to school work; it was more that he didn't want to be like Hermione, boggled down by books and learning, instead of having fun—though he knew that he was more like Ron, which wasn't good either. He slowly flipped through a couple of pages, reading about anti-jinxes, every so often making a movement with his hand to mimic the wand motions needed in order to cast the anti-jinx he was reading about at the moment. He continued to read throughout the rest of the night, and before he knew it, he was fast asleep with the book lying open on top of his chest.
It was around ten o'clock in the morning when he awoke the next day. With sleep still in his eyes, he stifled a yawn as he quietly went into the bathroom down the hall and took a shower, and then dressed and readied himself for the day. After he was finished, he went right back into his room, not wanting to disturb his aunt and uncle who had been relatively pleasant so far, altogether ignoring his presence entirely. As he finished drying his hair with his towel, there was a tapping on the window so he went over to the ledge, threw open the glass and allowed the carrier owl to hop into his room. He took the piece of parchment that was wrapped around the bird's leg and gave the owl an owl treat, before watching as it flew off into the distance, presumably back to its owner. He unrolled the parchment and scanned what it had to say, his breath hitching in his chest as he read through the neatly scripted words.
There was an attack last night; a few of the Order of the Phoenix members were killed, including Ron's brother Bill, and Tonks. I'll send you more information when I get it.
PS: Stay inside under all circumstances; it's for your best interest.
As he finished reading, he couldn't help but rear back in shock at the proclamation that Tonks and Bill were both dead. He had just spoken with Tonks a few days before—they had been discussing Remus Lupin and how he was distant to everyone ever since the night Sirius had died. He suddenly felt queasy at the thought of both of them being killed, they were much too young to have been a casualty of the needless war—he knew that he had to stop Voldemort as quickly as possible, no matter the cost to himself. Only he could defeat the Dark Lord and there would be nothing or no one that would get in the way from accomplishing that goal, regardless of what it took or how hard he to work. No more of his friends and family would die because of Tom Riddle; no more people would have to suffer because of the darkness and evilness that Tom Riddle brought upon the world.
He stayed silent for a few moments, not knowing what to say, but then, wanting to distract himself and with great sadness in his heart, he spent the rest of the day reading through a spell book that he had never given back to Hermione after she had let him borrow it the previous summer. While he tried to concentrate on the book, his mind couldn't help but continue to drift off to Tonks and Bill, two people that he had considered friends, even family. It made him so angry that they had died because he couldn't do what he had to just yet, he couldn't destroy Voldemort—they were young, innocent, in the primes of their lives. Right there and then, he promised himself that no matter what, he would devote himself in destroying Voldemort, forsaking everything else for that one goal.
Devoting himself entirely to the cause, he spent the next week going through every spell book, every defense book, every charm book that he had in his trunk, wanting nothing more than to become the best wizard he could during the summer. While he knew that he had wasted time during his first few years at Hogwarts slacking off, he also knew that that was in the past, and whatever he did, he couldn't go back and become a student like Hermione. Instead, he focused on his plans for the coming school year, where he would spend more time in the library than out on the quidditch pitch, more time doing his homework than playing pranks with Ron, more time practicing magic than gathering snacks from the kitchens, and more time learning how to defend himself than fighting with Malfoy.
It was at night time the next Monday when he got the worst news of his life, even worse news than hearing that Tonks and Bill were killed, news that he hoped he would never hear: Albus Dumbledore had died. He didn't know how, he didn't know what the cause was, but he had gotten word from Remus Lupin that Dumbledore had been found dead in his office late the previous night by Severus Snape. Immediately, Harry couldn't help but question whether Snape was the reason for Dumbledore's death, but Remus had assured him that Snape was not to blame, nor was he the cause. Remus had also stressed that for the time being, it was a secret that Dumbledore was dead, with only those in the Order knowing, as the Order wanted to prepare itself before the country as a whole learned that the greatest wizard of the age was dead, which would leave the country at Voldemort's mercy.
So, with an even heavier heart than before, Harry Potter paid his respects to Albus Dumbledore in the safety of his Privet Drive bedroom, knowing that it was what Dumbledore would want him to do. While he had been truly angry at Dumbledore for not telling him about the prophecy before Sirius' death, he was not going to hold that against the older wizard anymore: Dumbledore was doing what he honestly thought was best, what he honestly thought Harry needed in life. In a way, Harry understood what Dumbledore did—after all, who in their right mind would tell an eleven year old that he had to kill the darkest Dark Lord that has ever existed or else be killed by the said Dark Lord? No one would, and now Harry understood that, that it really was for his own protection that Dumbledore stayed silent for all those years until Harry was truly ready to hear about the prophecy. With that understanding guiding his actions, he remembered the good times he had with Dumbledore, before he returned to his studying; his resolve to learn all that he could even stronger than it was before Dumbledore's death.
It was the first of July, and the werewolf Remus Lupin was walking down Diagon Alley with his amber colored eyes focused on the store named Quality Quidditch Supplies. He paid no attention to the fact that the alley was nearly empty, knowing that it was a common occurrence now that the public knew that Voldemort had returned to power. People in the wizarding world were much too scared to go out and shop in the alley themselves; instead they sent their house elf to do it for them or even paid extra for the stores to deliver the goods to their homes. After a few more seconds of walking, he arrived at the store, pulled the door open and walked into the shop—a bell rang above him, which signified his arrival to the attendants that were working on their brooms in the workshop in the back. He meandered up to the counter that was at the back of the store, his eyes roaming over the various quidditch related items that the store had on sale—there was a brand new Firebolt hanging on the wall, gleaming with a golden light that illuminated the sign that was fastened next to the broom, explaining everything that it offered to the rider. As he took a step in front of the counter, he turned his attention to a group of four boys, none over the age of nine, who had just ran into the store, immediately moving to the broom section with their eyes wide in excitement, apparently braver than most grownups were with Voldemort on the loose.
"May I help you?" A wizard questioned, coming out from the back room to meet with Remus. He wiped his greasy hands on a cloth that was on top of the counter, and then tossed it under the counter, hidden away from the sight of his customers.
"Look at that one!" One of the boys suddenly yelled, pointing to the Firebolt that was hanging up on the wall that Remus had just been looking towards. "It's the fastest one on the market!"
"Ah, yes," Remus said, noticing that the boys had now walked up to the counter and were looking at some of the programs that the various teams around the country sent out for promotions in order to get fans to attend their games. "I need to purchase a Nimbus 1001."
Overhearing what the werewolf had said, one of the boys laughed at Remus, hitting his friends on the shoulder to get their attention. "He's getting a Nimbus 1001!" The boy exclaimed while pointing up at Remus, erupting a roar of laughter from his friends.
"That's like a hundred years old, mister." Another boy sniggered, moving his gaze over to Remus along with the other boys. "I wasn't even born yet when the Nimbus 1500 was out, let alone the 1001."
Remus gave them all a smile and then looked back over to the worker, who was still staring over at the kids, making sure they weren't doing anything wrong. "Do you have one?" He questioned, silently agreeing with the kids that the Nimbus 1001 was an older model of broom.
"Yeah, I think so," The worker nodded, leaning backwards to peek his head into the backroom for a moment. "Give me a second, it's in the back." He said, his gaze moving back to Remus, before he walked into the back to procure the broom.
Remus waited patiently for the attendant to come back up to the front, using the time to think about everything that he needed to do before he was ready. "Get robes, get a trunk, go to Gringotts, and then go to Grimmauld Place for everything else." He whispered, checking off everything on a piece of parchment that he had taken out from his robe pocket.
"Here you go." The attendant walked back with a wrapped up broom in his hands five minutes later, before putting it gently down onto the counter in front of Remus. "While the broom might be of an older model, it is still brand new and will ride as such. Is there anything else that you need or will that be all for today?"
"No thank you," Remus negatively shook his head, and after hearing the price from the attendant, he paid the shop and walked out with the broom tucked under his left arm. He knew that he would have never have been able to afford a newer broom, but luckily he didn't have to buy a newer model in order to accomplish his goals and, in fact, the Nimbus 1001 was exactly what he needed.
He made it nearly all the way down Diagon Alley, before stopping at Madam Malkin's and entering the empty shop. When he walked up to the counter, he asked for a particular size and type of robes, and after receiving a strange look from the attendant, he watched as she went to get what he had asked for in the back like the attendant from the Quidditch shop. He waited patiently once more, before the shopkeeper came back ten minutes later and handed him a brown bag filled with ten sets of Hogwarts uniforms, charmed to change into the appropriate colors when the owner was sorted into their respective house. He ran his wand over the bag that carried them and then tucked the newly shrunken bag into his pocket, before walking out of the shop and towards his next destination, the trunk store.
After scanning the store's items, he purchased a seven-locked trunk that suited his needs nicely, and then quickly moved onto Gringotts, where he ran into a little trouble with the goblins but managed to secure everything that he needed to acquire. Finally, he made his way over to the stored named the Muggle Outlet down at the far end of the Alley, where many wizards and witches dared not go with Voldemort on the loose. The store held everything that a wizard would need when entering the muggle world, such as clothes, guides on how to traverse muggle customs, as well as assortment of other items that most wizarding folk didn't even know how to use. Remus immediately made his way over to the clothes section, perusing everything: just as he wanted, the store only had clothes from the 1970s and early 80s, though they were not used and instead were mostly left on the racks since the time they were put there a decade ago or more. He picked up a good assortment of items, and after purchasing them, he apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place in a hurry, knowing that he had more things to do that day and very little time left to do them.
Around noontime the next day, there was a soft tapping at Harry's window in the smallest room of 4 Privet Drive. The young wizard quietly walked over to it and allowed the tawny owl entrance into his room, where it hopped to the edge of ledge and put its leg out for Harry. He took the letter from the owl's leg and handed the owl an owl treat, which hooted in the appreciation and left the room out of the window with a flap of its wings. Quickly unfolding the parchment, Harry scanned what it had to say, a small smile appearing on his face as he read.
In light of everything that has happened lately, I want you to be prepared for my arrival at 7 o'clock tonight. I will be apparating into your room directly, so do not be worried or startled when I appear.