A/N: Okay, this is my first fic in a very, very long time. This is also my first Harry Potter fic ever, so cut me some slack, please! Comments and suggestions are very much appreciated especially suggestions. With this I'm mostly testing out the waters, I haven't got a clue where this is going, so this is really my plea for direction. This is going to be a Snape/Harry fic, maybe slash I'm not sure yet. All right I think that's it for now, enjoy!
Disclaimer: My name, unfortunately, is not J.K. Rowling *tear*. Therefore I do not claim ownership of any of the characters in this story, nor am I making any profit whatsoever from writing this. So there, you can't sue me! HA!
Chapter One- Strangers
Harry Potter did not know what woke him, except maybe the aching pain all over his body. Though he had the feeling that this was not the cause, for he was used to sleeping while he was in pain. He looked around him, only to find that he was as blind as a bat in the complete darkness. He knew only that he was not in his bed on Number Four, Privet Drive.
And that he was not alone.
There was an almost indetectable breathing, coming from his bedside. Almost indetectable. He began breathing erratic breaths, just to make sure. There was definitely someone else there, but who that someone else was, Harry did not know.
"Who's there?" he whispered to the stranger.
No response was given except the scraping of a chair on stone, a tap of graceful footsteps. The turning of a doorknob and the creak of old hinges A sliver of moonlight creeped into the room, the hospital wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where Harry was soon to enter his sixth year. A tall dark left through the door, features unseen by the boy's clouded vision.
Harry hadn't the faintest idea whom the stranger was, but he did not ponder it for long. After making certain that he was alone now, Harry let exhaustion and pain win, and fell back into a deep dreamless sleep.
Harry awoke the next morning to the thundering of heavy curtains being raised. He opened his eyes, only to be greeted by the blinding morning light flooding the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey could be seen at the other side of the room, pulling the thick ropes of the gigantic curtains. 'That explains why it was so dark in here last night,' Harry's inner voice informed him. Last night. He had almost forgotten about the strange experience.
"Mr. Potter, it's good to see that you're awake this morning. How are you feeling?" asked Madame Pomfrey, snapping Harry out of his reverie.
"I'm fine," he replied, trying not to sound too startled.
"Glad to hear it. I'll fetch you your breakfast, you must be hungry," she said and bustled out of the room without waiting for an answer.
Harry's thought's immediately returned to last night. Who had the stranger been? Why didn't they answer him when he called? Why had they been here in the first place? Harry stopped short at the last one.
Why was he here in the first place?
Then realization dawned on him. Memories flooded back to him as though a dam of thoughts had been broken.
It was late, around ten o'clock or so, but Harry didn't care. He had spent the entire day, like all the other days of the summer after hi fifth year, walking aimlessly around his neighborhood and Little Whining Park, occasionally stopping to sit on a swing or park bench. People gave him funny looks, whispered to each other when they saw him, but again Harry didn't care. The sad, empty look in his one bright and brilliant eyes told anyone with half a brain that he didn't care much about anything in the world around him.
Ever since his godfather died, it had felt as though there were an empty void in the heart of Harry Potter. It was threatening to swallow him up, eating away at him constantly, until he became the pale ghost of the strong, bright young man he once was.
'You really should go back,' his inner voice chided him, a voice that now sounded strangely like Hermione Granger. 'You know what Dumbledore said. You that it is dangerous for you. You know that if anything where to happen to you, Sirius's death will have been in vain.'
'Fuck off,' Harry snapped at the voice. 'Don't talk to me about Sirius. I know how and why he died, I don't need to be told again.'
"It was all my fault," he said aloud, not knowing consciously that he was doing so. "He's dead because of me."
'That may be so, but at least make his sacrifice worth something. Stay healthy, be prepared to take down Voldemort and his followers,' the voice told, him sounding not unlike Ron Weasley this time.
"I will. Voldemort and that Lestrange bitch will pay for Sirius's death," he said in a cold voice, filled with pure hate and venom.
'And quit talking to yourself. You're supposed to lay low, and don't think for a second that that won't attract attention. It's not good for your health anyway'
"SHUT UP!" Harry finally screamed at his inner voice, causing some birds to leave their nighttime perches amongst the trees. He had even managed to scare himself with that outburst. The voice was right, as always, this wasn't doing too good for his sanity.
"Hmm… May I ask whom you were speaking to, Potter? I don't believe that I was making such an obscene amount of noise as to disturb you that much," said a cold voice that Harry couldn't quite locate. He whipped his wand out of his back pocket (where he still kept it, despite Moody's warning) and frantically began to search for the speaker. There he found Lucius Malfoy, standing there in front of him, having popped up out of nowhere. The blonde man began to laugh at Harry, wand pointed at the boy's heart.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, two pairs of strong hands gripped his arms so tightly; Harry began to wonder if they would fall off. He was shoved face first into the cement sidewalk, glasses shattering on impact. Harry heard the crack on his nose breaking, felt the warmth of his own blood spilling out onto the pavement beneath him. He screamed and tried desperately to free himself, but to no avail, the people holding him were too strong, and his struggles wear weak due to his spinning head.
"Tut tut, Potter. One would hope that you'd have learned by now the dangers of walking around alone at night," said Malfoy's harsh and mocking voice. It was somewhat slurred, but Harry wasn't exactly concerned about that, as the two men holding him had begun to kick every inch of his body that they could reach. "You are going to pay for what happened in the Department of Mysteries, Potter. You are going to pay for getting me sent to Azkaban, ruining my reputation! Crucio!"
Harry began to scream in sheer agony; the feeling of white-hot knives piercing every inch of his skin surged over him. The pain was unbearable; he was going to pass out soon if it didn't stop.
Suddenly, it did. A series of loud cracks rang throughout the park, followed by a lot of yelling. Harry couldn't make out what was being said, or who was saying it; the pain from the curse and the beatings was rapidly sending a cloud of dizziness over him. He was flung to the side as he was released from the grip of his two captors, landing in a crumpled heap on the grass beside the sidewalk.
The battle ensued around him, but Harry was too weak to stand up and fight, no matter how much he wanted to. He tried in vain to look up, to at least be able to see what was going on around him. As the minutes went by, the shouting seemed to be moving further away. Whether or not this was due to the battle actually moving away or his slow but steady slide into unconsciousness, or both, was a mystery to him.
Just as Harry was about to give in, he felt a hand on his back. He heard a low voice whisper into his ear, "It's alright Harry, you're safe now." The voice sounded so far away.
"Sirius?" Harry managed to croak out in a barely audible whisper, but never received an answer, for it was right then blackness happened to finally seize him.
Had Sirius really saved him? 'No, of course not,' his inner answered him. 'Sirius is dead, remember? Dead people don't just come back to save your ass.'
Harry's musings were again interrupted by Madame Pomfrey as she burst through the door with is breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon and pumpkin juice. She the proceeded to fuss over him for what seemed like hours, making him drink several potions. Harry quickly devoured it all and promptly fell asleep, as a result of one of the potions that had been forced upon him.
TBC, I hope.
A/N: So, how did you like it? Reviews are appreciated greatly; especially those "laced with ideas, hint hint. I'm really not sure what to do with the rest of this fic. I've actually written drafts of the second and third chapters, but I still really don't like them, and any inspiration given would be lovely. I'm about to fall flat on my face, I'm so tired from writing this, and the fact that it is 2:30 in the morning doesn't help. I'm posting this and going to bed, goodnight!