"I am the road leading to no return.
Secret of Life, nobody wants to learn.
I am the car racing toward distant shores.
Your Life is forever mine."
--Papa Ge, Once on This Island
"You will do well not to dissssappoint me."
"My gracious lord, you are most kind to grant me this opportunity."
"Think of this asss your chance to repay me."
"Thank you, my Lord, you are most kind."
Anger began to surge within his core. His eyes closed dangerously as his slender white hand raised his wand. "Crucio."
The Death Eater before him fell to the ground twitching and screaming in agony. Seeing the man's grotesque movements caused warmth to grow within his body. When he grew tired of the man's screams, he lowered the wand.
"Luciussss, groveling doessss not become you," he snarled, "get out of my sssight." He watched the eldest Malfoy limp out of the dark chamber, before he turned his attention to the remaining Death Eater kneeling before him. "Report."
The tall figure rose, "My Lord, Dumbledore guards his secrets more carefully since the events of your rebirth. He des-"
He was on fire. Everything burned. He couldn't breathe through the pain the screams he heard were not coming from the Death Eater on the ground but him. There was no man before him. He was in his bedroom. Alone. He looked towards the clock resting on the peeling nightstand.
Fourteen year old, Harry Potter gingerly rubbed the skin around his forehead. The teenager was concentrating hard to remember what he'd heard. The only thing standing out in his memory was the fact that he had been the one to cast the Cruciatus curse multiple times. Nothing made sense!
Only two weeks after the horrifying events of the Tri-Wizard, Harry had been having violent nightmares and visions. The boy could hardly remember what they were about afterwards other than what spells had been cast and that he had cast them. Harry had sent several letters to Dumbledore explaining what little he could remember from the dreams.
He had hoped that the Headmaster would explain to him why these dreams were occurring and what in the hells' was going on outside the neat and clean walls of Privet Drive. All Dumbledore would write were meaningless sentences and warnings to be careful and alert. Hermione and Ron were no different. They always asked how Harry was feeling and then advice to stay inside and not go on those long walks through the park by him self. They all said he was only totally safe when he was within the walls of his aunt's house. Harry's only way of showing his disdain for their wasted use of paper and ink was to stop writing them.
His growing guilt for Cedric would have caused Harry to drop into the deepened of depression if Sirius had not written multiple long letters to Harry, trying to help the boy sort out his feelings. The only emotion that Harry felt now was anger for everyone else forgetting his feelings and running his life.
The Dursley's had been no help. Dudley completely ignored his cousin's presence at 4 Privet Drive. Aunt Petunia would give him long lists of chores to complete and then ignore him, while Uncle Vernon would yell at him, ignore him, and yell at him some more. Harry had at first welcomed their behavior towards him. All he had wanted to do was crawl into a corner and stare at a wall, but soon everything began to grow old.
With each passing day, Harry began to feel as though something was not quite right. His visions became more and more frequent as though they were reaching some sort of climax. Voldemort was planning something big. And that something was going to happen soon. If only Harry could receive some useful information from Dumbledore, he would be able to figure it out, before it was to late.
Young Harry was carefully pulling weeds in the front flowerbeds in the burning sun. He had been at a good two hours with his head bent and hands working nimbly with a spade, when he felt something was wrong. Slowly, he looked around him.
All the kids in the neighborhood were relaxing in air-conditioned homes. A west highland terrior was resting under the shade of a tree in Number 8 and Number 5 had a sedan parked out in the driveway. The only thing uncommon to the street was a red truck pulling to a stop down the street near Number 1. Nobody got out.
Harry shook his head before going back to work.
Harry was inside cleaning the kitchen while the Durlsey's were getting ready for a dinner party they'd been invited to. Petunia was carefully adjusting the pins in her hair as Vernon sprayed too much clonge on himself. Dudley was sitting in front of his computer, having completely forgotten to finish applying gel.
Outside, the red van was still sitting in the darkening street. Not a single person had gone in or out of the van all day since it had arrived.
Laying on his bed, Harry was staring at the ceiling attempting to determine Voldemort's plans.
The Durlsey's had left home five minutes ago and were just pulling out of the neighborhood.
The rolling side door to the red van was quietly opened, and two figures stepped out.
Harry had grabbed a book on defensive spells from his nightstand and was reading.
The two figures were now almost to the back porch door of Number 4.
The red van had moved in front of Number 4
The resident wizard at Number 4 Privet Drive was rereading about different types of protective shields when he heard it.
It was a slight creak. A creak that was only produced when someone had stepped on the right edge of the second to last step on the top of the stairs.
Harry tried to reason with himself that he was imagining things, but the air had changed. It was charged and thick. Something was happening! Harry pulled his wand from his back pocket and gently turned the handle to his door and pulled it open. He stuck his head out peering around in the dark empty house. Gradually, he worked his way to the edge of the stairs with is want arm extended. Harry's nerves were working in over drive as his breathing began to pick. He was imagining noises everywhere.
Something rustled behind him, and Harry sensed movement. Just as he was about to about-face something wrapped around him pinning his arms to his sides, and a sharp knife was applied to his throut.
A door slammed.
And the alarms surrounding Privet Drive sounded in Albus Dumbledore's office.
Harry Potter had left Privet Drive.
This is just a random story that popped into my head at 11:30 p.m. after work and wrote it down. I hope it's something you all will enjoy. I'll update probably tomorrow evening…I don't' know…it's holiday break…I have time to kill. Sincerely the Royal Nav