Spoilers: All five books. Do not read unless you have FINISHED Order of the Phoenix.
Disclaimer: Why are these things necessary? If I owned the characters of this story, why would I be writing a fanfiction?
A.N.: THIS IS NOT A SEQUEL OF ANY OF MY OTHER STORIES. Please take a look, and please take the time to review, it will be appreciated.
In Every Darkness
In the heart of the suburban town of Little Whinging, Surrey, a teenage boy was lying on his bed, propped up by his elbows, staring at the ceiling.
At first glance, one might assume that he was a fairly normal young boy, unable to sleep because of the fierce winds shrieking outside the window.
But this was not the case. A closer look would reveal that his eyes were completely blank, that his mind was elsewhere, and one might then assume that, although he could not sleep, he was lost in some pleasant day-dream, perhaps about his crush, or what he was going to do with his friends the next day.
One could not be more wrong.
It was not some pleasant thought of a romantic date with his crush, nor plans of activities he might do with his friends, that took up Harry Potter's thoughts at this very moment.
No, he was watching, for what must have been the millionth time this summer, the moment of his Sirius Black, his godfather's, death.
Again, he watched as his godfather duelled with his very own cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, in a valiant attempt to distract the Death Eater from Harry and his friends.
Again, he watched as a flash of red light blazed from the tip of Bellatrix's wand, watched as his godfather stepped backwards to avoid the spell.
Again, he saw his godfather lose his balance, careening backwards, arms windmilling as he desperately attempted to regain his balance.
Again, he watched as his godfather fell backwards into a veil of airy, black shroud-like material, tumbling backwards into a dark abyss.
And once again, he was filled with the dark knowledge that his godfather was dead, torn from this world long before his time. At the time of the actual event, Harry had not known that this veil was the doorway into the Realms of the Dead, a place from which no mortal could return.
But he knew that now. He knew that only too well.
With a huge effort, Harry wrenched his mind free of the memory, and blinked his way back into proper consciousness.
Immediately his ears were assailed by the noise of the wind. He could hear as something heavy was lifted into the air and slammed against the side of a building, heard the screaming of the trees as they did their very best to remain upright.
But even the violence of the gale outside could not distract him from the burden of his godfather's death, which, he thought, would always rest heavy on his soul.
Rising from the bed, he walked to the window, past Hedwig's cage, and opened the window. The wind nearly blew him backwards, but he stood against it, allowing the winds to scream around him and his room, feeling his anger, guilt and helplessness paling in the face of nature's fury.
His owl hooted balefully at him, and Harry smiled apologetically at her, pulling the window shut. "Sorry Hedwig. I just needed some fresh air," he told the owl with a sigh.
He'd hardly been good company, these last three days since he'd returned from school. Hedwig had remained out for most of that time, not wanting to be a possible target for her master's displeasure with life.
Harry felt even angrier than he had the previous summer, feeling that he was once more being coddled. He'd heard from the Order of the Phoenix only once, to say that he should not blame himself for Sirius death, and reminding him to send a letter every three days.
Neither of his friends, Ron and Hermione, had sent a note along with this letter. Harry just wanted, once more, to be included. But he knew that he wouldn't be.
On some level, Harry knew that his anger was unreasonable, that he was taking out his helplessness in the face of his godfather's death on everyone around him … but at the same time he didn't particularly want to do anything about it.
The only reason Hedwig was here tonight was the wind. It'd blown up in the early afternoon, and was showing no signs of abating any time soon.
Harry slumped into his chair, allowing his body to slouch as he stared at the littered top of his desk. There were the remains of a weak attempt to do some studying and several half-finished letters to his friends – letters that would, most likely, never be sent.
He picked up his quill and scrawled a single word onto a fresh piece of parchment, writing it again and again, as if simply writing this word would make his life better again.
WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? …
(?)dates are written in 'day/month/year' form, as I am from Australia.
Hope you guys all enjoyed the first chapter of my story! Please go ahead and read the rest of it, and don't forget to review and tell me what you think!