Harry Potter and the Azkaban Guards
Written by Tommy (me!); Beta'd by MadEyes.
Disclaimer: Characters from the Harry Potter series are the property of J.K. Rowling, and various publishers: including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the writing of this story. It is merely written for entertainment purposes.
Summary: Following his fifth year and after being locked up at the Dursley's, Harry will now be taken away into a new family where the way of a Slytherin rules. Determination leads him to gain knowledge, seeking the power to destroy the Dark Lord for good. However, this new path will be long and hard and no year with Harry Potter seems to be without at least one great adventure… Follow him as he discovers his Slytherin side, and tries to figure out just what in the world a Dementor really is…
Chapter One: Dursley Residence
The inhabitants of Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, a house not so different from the rest, with its neatly manicured lawns and picket white fence, was like the rest of the neighbours' houses all along the street, that is to say, normal. Or at least, that was what they claimed anyway. While they weren't rich, the man of the house, an obese Vernon Dursley, made good money on his Grunnings Drill Sale Company. His wife, Petunia Dursley, was the typical nosey neighbour, constantly checking her windows for whatever gossip could be found, so she could later brag, ridicule and gossip to the other inhabitants of Surrey on their next tea party. Their son, Dudley Dursley, was a boy not unlike his father, the only difference being the slight muscle that the boy seemed to have developed while learning to box, something that has yet to diminish his considerable bulk. To his parents, Dudley was their 'Duddykins,' or 'Duddyboy,' a growing young gentleman who could never do anything wrong. In their eyes he was the saint of the earth. And this just showed how naïve they really were. With the exception of 'perfectly normal' Number Four, the boy was known all over Surrey for his bullying tendencies; kids ran away when they saw him, and those that wanted to look cool, or thought themselves as such, clung to him like mosquitoes on sweetened blood.
The Dursley's however, had a dark secret. At least, what they thought was a dark secret. For locket in his room with only a cat flap to receive his food was Harry Potter, an extraordinary young man and wizard in training, although not by his own estimation; in his mind he was a worthless failure.
Grieving because of the death of his godfather, Sirius Black, the boy didn't even care that he was locked up. Besides, they'd get an enormous telling off from Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody when he didn't get the letter that was requested every three days. This, of course, was due to the bars that were mounted on the outside of his window. Even Pigwidgeon, Ron's tiny owl, couldn't get through the bars. It was much later that night that Harry finally managed to fall asleep; a restless sleep filled with nightmares.
"Boy! Get your scrawny arse out here! You have five minutes in the bathroom!" The voice of Vernon Dursley, Harry Potter's walrus of an uncle, carried all through the house. How they expected the neighbours not to hear that was beyond Harry. Pulling himself out of bed and grabbing his clothes, he walked into the bathroom, locking the door, which would probably get Vernon angry if he noticed, and jumped into the shower. The water was, like normal, quite cold, but the Dursley's had probably used all the warm water by now.
Those five minutes went fast, and as predicted, Vernon's voice was again heard: "Get out of the bathroom boy, you're wasting water!"
Rolling his eyes, Harry hurriedly got dressed, unlocked the door, and found himself face to face with an angry, purple faced uncle. "Yes?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. But his uncle didn't seem to catch the sarcasm in his voice and only gave an angry 'huff,' before turning around, probably heading towards the living room. His aunt though, was waiting by the door to his room, probably to lock it up again. "Don't want me polluting the air with my breath" Harry muttered under his breath.
He was harshly pushed through the door before it was locked behind him. Glancing around, Harry sat heavily on his bed; his room was spot clean with the exception of a few parchments laying on his desk, signalling his completed essay for Defence Against the Dark Arts. You'd think that after the OWL's exam he'd have a summer without homework. It seemed, however, that everyone had to take the DADA class next year, probably because of the war, Harry thought. What he couldn't comprehend though, was the assignment for his Potions class. Professor Snape only accepted students with Outstanding on their OWL's and Harry was completely sure that he didn't get a grade that high, after all, with the lack of competence his potion professor had, it was a miracle he did as well as he did.
Pulling out his homework, he set back to work, trying to finish the two feet long essay on truth serums, followed by their pros and cons. He was interrupted however, when the door downstairs was blown to bits. He could hear Vernon yelling and someone sounding a lot like Mad-Eye, shouting at them. Not wanting to take any chances, Harry grabbed his wand and flattened himself against the wall aiming towards the door, a stunning curse ready to be fired at the first sign of an enemy.
He could hear the steps closing in… several of them in fact. "Why in bloody blazes do they have this many lock's on the door? You'd think he could blow up the door with a thought!" Nymphadora Tonks' voice said and Harry lowered his wand slightly, yet still not one hundred percent convinced of who they really were.
When the door opened with a simple Alohomora from the other side, the first person Harry could see was Dumbledore. The old man however, looked sad and disappointed, though Harry got the impression it had nothing to do with him… or, at least anything he had done.
"Are you okay, my boy?" Dumbledore asked, the lack of twinkling in his eyes finally bringing forward his age.
"Yeah… can you give me any proof that it's you?" Harry asked, already knowing what Dumbledore would say.
And he was right; "Just that your divinations professor isn't as incompetent as you thought." Yet those words were like a sledgehammer against his memories. The prophecy came straight to the forefront of his mind, and Harry was only able to give a weak nod back.
"I had hoped that the Dursley's would finally care for you more adequately if we, in fact, reminded them of the consequences of not doing so… unfortunately, it seems I was again mistaken." Dumbledore said, taking in Harry's appearance, plainly seeing that the youth was even thinner then the last time they had met, which was only five days ago. They probably gave him only enough food to survive, Dumbledore thought, finally averting his eyes and directing his next words to Alastor Moody. "Are the Dursley's taken care of?" he asked, the hard edge of his words making Harry look up from the floor.
Taken care of? Harry wondered.
"Yes, sir, they'll return to their own happy selves by the end of the week. Don't want them destroying their house in their current state, do we?" Although Moody's horrible, gnarled grin seemed to say 'anything but.'
"Where am I going?" Harry asked.
The Headmaster seemed uncertain for a moment. "I am not sure, Harry. We certainly did not expect this to occur. Grimmauld Place cannot be used while Sirius' will is being processed; apart from the fact that we do not, as of yet know who the main beneficiaries are. Hogwarts is not safe at this time of the year given that most of the professors do not care to spend their holidays in an empty, old castle. And the Weasley's house is not safe for you, Harry, not when Voldemort is out looking for you… meaning that at the moment, I have absolutely no idea." Dumbledore replied.
"He could stay with me," a voice came from beside Mad-Eye. Looking over to see who had spoken, Harry was faced with a tall, proud man with black hair and dark blue eyes. He practically screamed 'Slytherin.' "They would never consider searching for him at my house, which is very well warded; especially against those who bare the Dark Mark. Moreover, who'd think that Harry Potter would hide with a family who has stayed neutral in all conflicts for the past 800 years?"
Moody actually seemed to like the idea, and looking over at Dumbledore, Harry could tell from the twinkling in his eyes that he agreed, "An extraordinary idea, Mr. Zabini! Why didn't I think of that?" He said the last more to himself as he popped a lemon drop into his mouth, his cheerful mood returning once more.
Zabini? As in Blaise Zabini, the Slytherin ice queen? Harry wondered, slightly shocked at the thought of living with a Slytherin. Blaise Zabini was known for her neutral, but glacial attitude. Well, according to Malfoy at least. She was well known for her ability to sink into the shadows, and not be noticed. Of course, now when he thought about it, she had never even bothered him or his friends. Still, living with people he didn't know wasn't high on his list of priorities, whether she was neutral or not. That was, if Blaise was related to this man at all.
"Seeing by the look on your face, I think you recognised my name. Before you ask Mr. Potter, yes, Blaise is my daughter," Mr. Zabini informed him and Harry noticed that even his voice seemed neutral, How was that possible?
"Are you a member of the Order?" Harry asked. If he were, it wouldn't make much sense; after all, if you worked for the Order, you worked for the light… right?
"No, I was having a discussion with Headmaster Dumbledore when Alastor here, ran in, complaining about the lack of letters from you, so I was invited along, probably just for heightened security," Mr. Zabini said, his voice questioning Dumbledore on whether that was true or not.
"You are a duelling champion, Mr. Zabini. No reason not to bring you really, although you did come of your own free will," Dumbledore replied and received a nod in return from Zabini.
"I- I'm to go with him?" Harry asked nervously, his confusion and depression clearly visible on his face.
"Yes, Mr. Potter, you obviously are. Though I think that Blaise will do you some good," Mr. Zabini said, his last words bringing laughter from Moody.
"Huh?" Harry had no idea what he was talking about.
"You'll see, Mr. Potter. You'll see," Mr. Zabini's eyes twinkled in amusement.
"I don't think I have to ask you to behave, my boy, now, do I?" Dumbledore asked, his voice laced with humour, and Harry only shook his head, trying to get rid of the confusion at the same time.
"No, sir, I'll do fine, I think…"
The crowd of Order members seemed to be relieved at his words, as if lifting a huge burden of their shoulders, something that made Harry a little disappointed. Why can't any of them take me in? I'm not that big of a burden, am I? Harry thought. Zabini was the only one who caught the look on Harry, and his face softened a little, but said nothing.
"Ah, before I forget Harry," the Headmaster waved his wand, interrupting Harry's musings before handing something to him, "take this ring," Dumbledore said. "It is a direct portkey to my office. Make sure that the situation is serious enough before using it, is that clear? Everything else can be asked through a letter, or taken to me through Mr. Zabini here. I am certain that he can answer most of your questions," Harry only nodded at Dumbledore's words, while numbly putting on the ring, a platinum ring with an emerald in the middle. "The words are 'safety in fire.' Remember them."
"Well, I think you should pack your belongings Mr. Potter. We'll be leaving at once," Mr. Zabini said.
"Harry. You may call me Harry," he replied while pocketing his wand again. "And most of my stuff is downstairs, locked inside my, – eh – the cupboard. I managed to get some of my homework and my wand with me, though, without the Dursley's noticing." Harry continued, Mr. Zabini nodding at his words, not giving any sign of catching Harry's slip.
Getting together all his things, including his parchments, quill and ink, he went downstairs, the Order members following closely.
The cupboard was, like Harry said, locked. A quick Alohomora came from Tonks, and the little door flung open. Getting his trunk, and storing the homework and his things inside, Harry closed the door. He never noticed Zabini reading the writings on the wall, nor him catching a sight of a certain piece of parchment.
All I really need…
This is my home, securely from all,
Nearly ready to die, from the constant fight,
A place I will be, free as can be,
Sleeping and healing; safe in the dark.
Never again, will I feel this pain,
Never again, will I see the rain,
Because when all is ready, and all is done,
Finally my worry will become none.
Through the life of a worthless me,
All like a huge big dove,
Then maybe, they'll finally see,
All I really need is love.
- Harry Potter -
Below it laid Harry's first letter, addressed to Mr. H. Potter, Little Whinging, Surrey – The cupboard under the stairs.
Zabini's eyes took an angry glint to them, but it was gone before anyone noticed. Yes, Harry. I really think Blaise will do you some good, Zabini though. And with that in mind, he followed the rest of the crowd outside, the shining sun not really portraying their mood.
A/N's: There! My first chapter is up, and ready to be read! The poem is written by me, so I hope that 'when' (not 'if!') you review, that you'll give me a short note of what you think of it. On my knees begging
Well, all I can say then is; REVIEW! – Trust me when I say this, no review, no story. I live for the reviews… they're what keep me going! Now, unless you're blind (Which would mean you wouldn't be able to read this in the first place), there is a small button below in the left corner, with a word 'Go' on it. Click on it!
Also, if you see any grammar-mistakes, please give me a message. I'm Norwegian, and while I'm a huge fan of languages, my English is not among the best. Have a nice day! (I really could say more, couldn't I? Amused)
Oh! And my overwhelming Thanks to MadEyes, author of one of my favourite new fic's out there "Earth's Emissary," that without his intervening hand, annoying nitpicking and beta-ing of my contextual writing this wouldn't be half as good as it is now. Glares at MadEyes for writing this last paragraph, but is still devastatingly thankful. These two lines are written by MadEyes himself…though he is right, - I hereby thank MadEyes for looking through my work with his ever-turning eye of criticism. Snickering at the double-pun. -