Disclaimer: Well, I obviously don't own anything to do with Harry Potter or its products. Also, the idea for spells later on is used from the D&D spell list and like everything else, I don't own that either. So, please don't hunt me down and take what little money I have, because you won't get much. Have a nice day!
Author Note: This story is originally by MasterKtulu. I am rewriting it, using his ideas and sometimes almost word for word from the original. It may change from the original, but as this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction I will try my best to please my readers.
Original: Title- 'Fear of the Dark'; ID- 2139938; Rating- M
Chapter 1 – Letters
Harry sat straight up, covered in a cold sweat. He looked around his room at 4 Privet Drive. Even if he were wearing his glasses there would be nothing to see. The window curtains covered well enough to keep the room in a deep darkness. His breathing and heart slowed down to normal, but thinking of the dream brought a feeling of deep sadness and loss. The pain from that night weeks ago was still so fresh. It was that night, at the Ministry of Magic, that had destroyed what happiness he had left, the night that took his godfather from him.
Harry had that same nightmare every night sense the MoM. It was always the same, replaying the last moments of Sirius' life on this earth. Each time he woke from it, Harry felt more lost. Tears began to build in his sad green eyes. Why? Why did this have to happen?
It was this question that plagued Harry's mind. Why? Harry now almost certainly believed that he was cursed. That somehow fate or destiny didn't want him to have anything good in his life.
Not that his friends weren't something good. Harry just couldn't take their endless worrying; they asked all the time if he wanted to talk about it, if he needed anything. Couldn't they get it, that he just wanted to be left alone? Harry had no desire to talk about what had happened. In truth he felt too ashamed, It was my fault. The guilt that he believed rested with him was heavy. Sure Voldemort has his share of the blame and so does Bellatrix Lestrange.
Still, with all of his friends and the Order saying that it wasn't his fault, that there was nothing he could have done about it, didn't make him feel any better. If only I could have been stronger, only if I could have been better… None of this would have happened.
Harry's tears rolled down his face as he remembered the last moments before Siruis's death. He wanted to die at that moment, but knew that he couldn't without feeling more guilt. What with the wizarding world depending on him to save them all yet he, the famous Harry Potter, couldn't do a thing for just one man.
He curled on his bed and for what felt like hours Harry wept, over everything that he just knew he couldn't do or didn't want to do.
In the end, exhaustion was just too strong. He fell asleep once more, never having noticed the movement in the corner.
In the morning Harry woke, dressed himself and set out on his daily routine. First he made the Dursleys their breakfast. He endured the insults about himself with not so much as one glare they would normally have gotten, just going about as if he didn't hear a word. More then once Dudley had thrown something at him, thinking that would get him. Again Harry did nothing; surprisingly Dudley soon lost interest in torturing his cousin.
It was late that evening when Harry got back to his room, locking the door behind him. He walked toward the bed, but stopped and looked at the ever-growing pile of letters from Ron, Hermione, and the Order. He had opened them at first, only to find them all about the same thing. Asking if he was okay, and if he needed anything they would be glad to help or listen to what he had to say. Only thing was that Harry didn't want to say anything.
But, after a week of ignoring the letters, Harry walked over to the small desk and sat down. He reached over the desk when Hedwig dropped down onto the windowsill.
"Hello girl," Harry said gently. You are my only true friend. As if the snow-white owl could hear his thoughts, she jumped from her spot on the window to his shoulder. Giving his ear an affectionate peak, Hedwig then flew to her cage and settled in to sleep. She had flown all day to deliver his letters to the Order and his friends.
Turning back to the letters on the desk, Harry opened the first one. It had the seal of Gringotts on it, and it read…
Dear Mr. Potter,
It is our duty to inform you that, after finding conclusive evidence of his passing the last will and testament of Mr. Sirius T. Black will be read at your nearest convenience at Gringott's Wizard Bank in Diagon Alley.
Included is a special Gringotts Portkey in the shape of a Knut. It will take you directly to a private waiting area to my personal office. I will be contacted upon your arrival and we will then be able to go through the will and all necessary paperwork in complete privacy. Feel free to bring with you any associates that you like. Arrive anytime, day or night.
To activate the Portkey hold the Knut in your palm and say: "Gringotts"
All my condolences.
Adviser RaphokeGringotts Wizard Bank
Harry took the single Knut out of the envelope and placed it on the desk. He stared at it for a while with emotionless eyes. He did take note however that it looked like a normal Knut, but in place of the serial number were the words 'Goblin Portkey.'
Leaving the portkey on the desk, Harry picked up the next letter. It was from the Order; no doubt it says what all the others did. Instead of reading their concerned words, he simply deposited all the letters from the Order into the trash.
A very tired Harry sighed, Why couldn't they just leave me alone?
The next letter was from Hogwarts, or at least from someone writing him with school business. Let's see what the Professor has to say. Harry opened the envelope with some anxiety; he just couldn't trust Dumbledore after this last year's abandonment.
Your friends the Weasleys, Miss Granger, and your Ex-professor Remus Lupin have contacted me expressing their worries about you. They all say that you are not corresponding with them as you normally would have in years past, and that once a week they each receive the same identical letter stating you are fine and that they shouldn't worry. It seems that your letters are doing anything but keeping them from doing so.
They also tell me that you are completely ignoring all comments and questions about yourself and only receive back your short letters aimed at appeasing them and the Order of your welfare. I must say that I too am starting to worry about you.
I suggest you try to placate these fears from your friends and inform them of your situation. I assure you that communicating your feelings will help with the grieving process; it will be good for you. However, if you want to go through it alone then it is up to you. The grieving processes are different from person to person, but know this, we all love you and no fault lies with you for Sirius' passing.
Now to business, I am afraid that it is not wise for you to leave your Aunt and Uncle for the time being. It would be best for you to stay with them for the summer. With Voldemort in the open, his attacks will be bolder and more frequent before long. As such, no place exists that would be better for you then with your relatives. I know you don't like to hear this but you know what losing you would mean to this world and I must keep you safe at all cost.
Try not to leave the safety of the house as much as possible, stay indoors. Be careful what you write in your letters, as they can be intercepted. I will try to find a safe way for you to communicate with your friends, remember to be careful.
I will write again when able, but because of the current state of affairs I may not be able to for some time. On the first of September at nine in the morning your guard will arrive to take you to Platform 9 ¾.
If you ever need me, send word. Hedwig will find me.
Albus DumbledoreAlso, any thought to continuing with the D.A. this year?
Harry looked down at the letter with empty eyes, it was a long letter but the Professor hadn't said anything important. As far as what his 'friends' thought was also unimportant. He knew the part about intercepting owls first hand, after Hedwig had a wing broken that year before… Umbridge would suffer for that. She will bleed for hurting my friend.
Harry didn't like the idea of staying with his 'family' the whole summer, but the only other options would be Grimmauld Place or the Burrow. He didn't ever want to set foot in Grimmauld Place again and the Weasleys would treat him like he were made of glass. So, looking at his situation, staying with the Dursleys would be easy enough to handle. The Dursleys would never ask how he was doing or want to talk about what had happened. They definitely wouldn't tell him that it wasn't his fault.
Harry believed that even Dumbledore had his share of blame, after all, he could have told Harry the truth so many years ago. He may not have accepted it as first but he would have gotten over it. With his friends and Sirius at his side everything would have been all right. Then, Dumbledore knew that Voldemort would return and he waited so long to tell Harry. All this time of training missed because the old man's secrets.
Even if he had been trained only from his first year at Hogwarts, it would have been better then the current situation. Harry had no extra training at all, none. He felt that he should have been better prepared for what was going on, but now at almost 16 years old and knowing very little when compared to the most powerful Dark Wizard in history, disarming charms would only get you so far.
People always said that Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who ever feared, but Harry knew better. He had seen Dumbledore and Voldemort fight less then a month ago. He had seen only the tiniest amount of apprehension in Voldemort's eyes, only enough to ensure that he wouldn't take his opponent too lightly. As far as Voldemort was concerned, Dumbledore was only a pain in the ass, nothing more. He just couldn't see what he had that the great Dumbledore didn't have.
The Headmaster of Hogwarts had told Harry not so long ago that he had a power that the Dark Lord knew nothing about. That its quantities and power gave Harry the edge over Voldemort: Love? Or at least something like it, naturally it didn't make any sense. Was he to hug and kiss Voldemort to death? Harry just didn't see what good love would be in a fight with Voldemort.
Harry felt a small amount of anger build; the old man had the audacity to mention the D.A. at the end of the letter. He didn't see why he would have to teach his classmates how to defend themselves. Isn't that a teacher's job? There just wasn't a way in hell that he was going to keep it going after what happened. Besides, if Dumbledore wanted the students trained he was going to do it himself. He wasn't going to set up his peers with a false sense of security when they will just fall prey to 'Tom Riddle' and his Death Eaters anyway.
If Harry wasn't important enough to be trained for a real fight with Voldemort then he sure wasn't going to try and train his fellow students. Why show them what little he knew of dueling? Just for the ones that would eventually turn to the Dark Lord and tell him what the famous Harry Potter knew… Not bloody likely!
Heaving a sigh, Harry returned to what he was doing, opening the letters.
Next was Ron's letter, which was the worst of them all. Ron had probably already forgotten what happened at the MoM. All of his letters talked about Quidditch facts and then turning into a rant about Hermione's correspondence with Viktor Krum, and that she was in some kind of mortal danger because of it. The idiot actually thought that Harry wanted to hear about all that kind of stuff, which he didn't. That is why all of Ron's letters went right next to the ones from the Order, in the trash.
Hermione's letters were all the same as well. Describing her past few days' activities and, in detail, told him about her new revision on her study schedule. Like that was something Harry wanted to know about. Then, almost as an after thought, she would ask about how he was feeling and why hadn't he responded fully to her letters? Just like the others, they went into the trash with Ron's.
Then was Ginny's turn, granted her letters were better then her brother's and Hermione's, but still a waste of time. She would say to Harry that she understood how he must feel and that she was sorry and that she wished there was something she could do to help. Stop asking how I am doing. That would help. Then she would describe the happenings at the Burrow. After that would be the expected lines about how it wasn't his fault for what happened and that she didn't blame him for not writing back all that much. Harry guessed that she was just happy that he was writing back at all, even if it was the same words every time.
Remus' letters seemed to show that he was taking Sirius' death worse then anyone, including Harry. His all went on and on about how he missed Sirius and begged Harry not to blame himself, because no one else blamed him in the slightest. He begged Harry not to bottle up his emotions and to talk to him, so that they could start to heal. Harry was having enough trouble dealing with everything without having to deal with a grieving werewolf at the same time. Like the others Ginny and Remus' letters ended up in the trash, unopened and forgotten almost immediately.
Well, blame himself is exactly what Harry did. Sirius wouldn't have been there if it hadn't been for him. Thinking about blame, after himself would be Voldemort. No surprise there though. Since there was nothing the Dark Lord didn't have some fault in when it came to Harry. He didn't even want to list all the reason to hate Tom Riddle. Harry hated him enough without adding Sirius to the list.
Kreacher would be next, yes, that little elf will pay dearly for what he did. They should have killed that… thing… when they had the chance. That piece of shit, Harry would get him before all of this is over. Yes… Kreacher's blood will flow out of his veins.
Steadying himself, Harry went on to the next person on his list: Bellatrix Lestange. But, as he started to remember something out of place, a yawn forced its way out. Realizing he had been at this for almost two hours, Harry got himself ready for bed and closed the curtains over the window. Shutting out all of the light coming into the room, he got into bed and while he was going to sleep again it came to him that something was odd about that night at the MoM.
What is it that… I… then sleep took him.
Harry sat up, covered in a cold seat, his breathing and heart pumping rapidly. Quickly, Harry reached for his glasses and put them on to look around, only to find that he was in a completely dark room, a room he knew to be at 4 Privet Drive. Shakily, Harry pushed the covers aside and sat on the edge of the bed, catching his breath as it was still going a mile a minute. That dream again…
Again, it came to him, the last moments of Sirius' life on this earth. As it has dome every night, Harry thought he would get used to this over time. It just didn't seem to be happening, every time the dream came he woke up screaming and sweating. Maybe it just hasn't been long enough yet, Harry thought.
Sitting there in the dark, listening to his thoughts and trying to get himself to relax. Harry's eyes shot open, Her eyes! That's what was so odd, her eyes, how could I not have seen it? Standing he made his way over to the window to pull the curtains open and that is when he noticed them, and all thoughts of his discovery were blown from his mind.
Turning quickly, Harry looked at where he had seen it, movement at the corner of his vision. It was fast, but definitely there, but where did it go? He slowly made his way back to the nightstand, his defenses up the whole way there. Not knowing who or what was in the room just put Harry on edge. Getting to the bedside without anything happening, he switched on the lamp just as another movement to his right caught his eye.
Looking right, Harry blinked in confusion; It's a wall. But, there was just something moving over here. He searched the room but found nothing; he was alone in the room.
Thinking it just a trick of his imagination, Harry got back into bed, the discovery having to wait for another day to be remembered.
It would be two days before his 16th birthday when Harry would even look at his ever-growing pile of letters again. By the height of the stack, there must have been more than 40 of them. Having completed his daily routine of chores, he sat at the desk and looked out the open window. The setting sun's beauty caused the sky to be painted in a varying array of colors. To Harry it was just any old sky, the awesome sight of the sunset did not touch his heart.
Harry's heart was closed, cold from the overwhelming guilt that simply would not fade. It was the dreams that held his heart shut, they still come to him, and they were getting worse. Each night he woke covered in a cold sweat; chest pounding so hard as to think it would burst. Also, recently him imagination was getting to him, or maybe Harry was simply losing his mind. In the dark filled room, he would see movement. However, when the light came on…
Harry currently hated going to sleep; even turning the lights off filled him with a feeling of trepidation, because the dreams would be there to greet him.
A sigh escaped his body, he looked at the letters and started to sort through them. This would hopefully get his mind off of the sleep problem. Harry had not slept well in so many nights that he could hardly believe that he had ever slept a good nights sleep. Knowing that like before, the letters would all be the same as previous letters, he put most of them into the trash. Why can't they just leave me alone for a while?
A few weeks ago, Harry had written to the Order, and his friends, saying that he just wanted some time alone. So that he could think about things and deal with them on his own, and not have to write letters all the time. But no… They couldn't even respect me that much. Harry's thoughts turned bitter at the memory of the increased flow of letters after that. His solution, all the letters went straight into the trash.
13 letters from the Order…Trash…
10 letters from Ron…Trash…
17 letters from Hermione…Trash…
22 letters from Ginny…Trash…
As for the letters from Dumbledore, once Harry got the one with his book list for the coming year at Hogwarts, those too went directly into the garbage. He just didn't want to hear anything the old man had to say right now. The one thing that irritated Harry the most was the way the Professor always mentioned the D.A., asking if he would be continuing it this year.
Harry sorted through most of the mail; he only had one envelope left. At first glance, he assumed it was from Hermione, because the handwriting was that of a girl, or maybe Ginny. So he simply reached over to the trashcan and right before dropping it something popped into his sleep deprived mind.
Returning it to the desk, Harry looked at it a while. It was very fine parchment, not the usual material for a casual letter from Hermione. In fact, the one thing that stood to indicate that it wasn't from her was that only Harry's name was on it, and he didn't recognize the handwriting. He also got the feeling that whoever did this put great care into it. Again, Hermione wouldn't do this for just any letter; neither would Ginny for that matter. The ink sparkled slightly; looking closer, Harry saw that it was green with silver mixed together. Only one word came to mind to describe it…
Shacking his head to clear it, Harry picked it up and quickly decided that he had nothing to lose, so he opened it.
I realize that you will not know who this is from, and really I might be the last person you would like to speak to right now, but I beg you to hear me out. First I'd like to say that I am not asking for forgiveness, I'm not worthy of that. If I thought that I would have any chance of receiving your forgiveness, I would beg on bended knee for all eternity if necessary.
What I am asking for is a chance to explain all my past actions to you, with the small hope that you would believe me. However, until the time comes for me to reveal myself to you, I will seek to pay penance for my crimes by working against my former master. I will send you information about his dealings and plans. Then when the time is right, I will submit to your will, and accept and all punishment you would see fit to give. Be it merciless torture or slow painful death. I am ready and willing to swear a Witch's Oath that everything in this letter is the truth.
I see little chance in you accepting my offer but I am aware of this and willing to risk my very soul for this chance. I truly hope that you will accept and one day we can meet again, if only then to kill me.
In the event that you decide to accept my proposal then hold the letter in one hand and say: "Sirius Black," and it will erase all current writing on it. We can communicate through it, as anything you write will instantly show up on my parchment that is linked to yours, and the same goes for mine.
Also, when it erases both parchments will transfigure into a thin book for safekeeping. In it will be a muggle style pen with endless ink. From then on to erase what is written, just tap the page twice with the reverse side of the pen.
I swear to you now that I will serve you as long as you see fit, with the best of my ability to pay for my crimes.
Harry was more then confused; he reread the letter again and again to try to figure it out. For the sake of his own life, he just couldn't do it. Who was this woman, and what was she talking about? And, who was her former master? Voldemort… Maybe.
If everything in the letter was true, then… He just couldn't get his mind around it. Lack of sleep was not helping either. Harry knew that the best thing to do was put the letter out of his mind for the time being, and then return to the matter when he'd be well rested and clear headed. However, curiosity got the better of him.
Harry didn't know anyone who had a master and that felt as guilty as this woman was supposedly feeling. The mention of Sirius lead him to believe that she had something to do with his godfather, why else have his name as the activation command for the parchment.
As Harry read it again, the letter said she wanted to explain to him her past crimes. And would help bring down her master, who he could only assume was Voldemort. After that, she would consent to any punishment Harry saw fit to give, although he didn't feel like torturing or killing anyone at the moment… Maybe Voldemort or Kreacher.
He just couldn't stop being curious about this Witch.
Harry put down the letter when a sudden thought appeared in his mind. Well, it should have been the first thought. What if it is a portkey that will bring me to Voldemort? That didn't make sense; why not make the letter itself the portkey, that way he would be transported right when he touched it. Of course, it also occurred to him that if it were possible they would have done it already. Harry's conclusion was that a ward or two was in place to stop things like portkeys from entering or activating.
Makes sense really, Dumbledore may be a manipulating, lying bastard, but he wasn't stupid. Well, most of the time anyway. What if this would make it possible to Apparate to his location? Personally, Harry didn't think anything like that existed, but it may be possible.
Strange, Voldemort or his Death Eaters arriving here doesn't seem like such a bad idea.
Suddenly, Harry couldn't think of a reason to keep on living. His so-called friends seem to be more loyal to Dumbledore then to him anyway. Most people praised him one minute then wanted to take his head the next. He was under a microscope all the time and the resentment keep building higher.
"Would this be the right thing?" Harry wondered aloud, trying to find the courage somewhere. I might die tonight, but that wouldn't be such a bad thing… would it?
Then, down in the depths of his mind, Harry found what he was looking for.
"I'm tired of doing what's right, it's time to do what's easy. I deserve that."
Harry readied himself to tempt fate and use the parchment, but first he noticed his wand. It was on his nightstand next to his clock. He almost went to retrieve it when he decided to leave it where it was. Didn't want to have the option of defending himself, and with his luck Harry would be expelled for underage magic.
Picking up the parchment Harry examined it again. It was strange that something so small might be his end, and probably a very painful end too. After about a good twenty minutes of staring at the beautiful handwriting, and in a voice full of resolve and conviction, Harry said two words… the same two words that had changed his life for the better at the end of his third year at Hogwarts… so too would those words, on this night, change everything again.
For better or worse, this is the easiest thing to do.
Harry watched as the words on the letter began to glow white, only slightly surprised when…
Author Message: I encourage reviews from all readers. Also, if readers have any questions, I will try to answer them at the end of any and all chapters. Except for questions that are of no importance. I would also like a little help, as this is my first fic, please give me your input on what Genre and Rating my story fits in the best. I will, naturally, take all advice into consideration. Thanks for reading and I am currently hard at work on the next chapter that I hope you all will like. Also, if you could please reveiw each chapter seperately so that I can get better feedback.:-)