(no subject)
Ok, so I wrote this awhile ago, and just recently found it. It may not make the best of sense (as it hasn't been beta'd, or even really edited by me), but maybe this way I won't lose it again!
Its just an HP fanfic (yes, I know, laugh it up Rins and Cas). It can be found
It wasnot a normal night in Surrey. Particularily, it was not a normal night on Pivet Drive. What made it odd was the fact that the air was absoulutely still; this would not have been considered abnormal, if it weren't for the fact that one of the "worst storms of the century" had been flinging its worst at the perfectly identical, impecably normal homes only seconds before. On this not completly normal night, a not so normal boy was sitting crosslegged on his narrow cot in the smallest bedroom of Number 4 Pivet Drive. His head was bowed, the ends of his unruly mop of hair, now longer than it had been in the begining of summer, brushed the frayed hem of his one thin blanket that was currently serving as a cape. If he was in anyway concerned about the sudden silence of the outside world, he didn't show it. As the sky cleared itself of coulds, moonlight poured into the room, lighting up the boy and the few items on the cot that he was staring at. The first object to catch the light was a knife, dried blood marring its silver surface. Next to it lay a white quill, the only spot of color on it was its red stained tip. The only other object on the bed was a thick stack of papers, the top one baring only two works in faded brown not-ink
Harry Potter
for that is the name of the emancicated and scarred boy on the bed. And how the boy-who-lived really didn't.
'It's quite odd,' Harry mused. 'It's quite odd to be so fascinated with your own name.' He reached out a trembling finger, bright white in the moon light, and slowly traced the letteres on the parchment in fromt of him. Harry then slowly raised his head, once brillant green eyes pale with grief and doubt and nearly swallowed by the black circles that surrounded them. Inky black curls did little to hide the famous lightning bolt scar that burned silver. Thin cheecks were flushed with fever, the only bright color on his face. Still resting one finger on the parchment, he brought the other one to his forehead and brushed it absently, leaving a trail of crimson substance behind. Shuffling through the parchments, he laid many pages of the brown scrawl to the side before finding a blank one. Almost reverently, Harry brought his arm, the one that had wiped his forehead, into the moonlight. Several gashes lined the flesh from elbow to wrist. None of them were particularily deep or wide, but the still healing wounds filled him with a sense of dread. Pushing the thoughts and emotion aside, Harry picked up the wuill and gently wet the tip in the inly cut still open. The quill, now a glistening scarlett on white, was slowly lowered to the fresh sheet of parchment as he began to write.
July 29,
I have yet to leave my room. U.V. dcided that if I don't do something soon, he's not going to be responsible. That's surprisingly nice, coming from him. AP keeps rying to feed me. She keeps shoving actually decent food through the cat flap, but I'm so nausous, that it hurts to even think about foot. But, this isn't supposed to be about me. Please, whoever reads this, forgive my bouts of selfishness. LV sent out DE's tonight. They're having a grand time torturing muggles and burning their homes to the ground. Some of these people are relatives to the muggle born witches at H. He expects this to be only slightly more difficult than "muggle hunting", but must have a plan to keep Dumbledore and Auror's from being called. Usual plans for world domination. Has werewolves & some giants on side. SS tortured many times. Must remember to ask D or PP why SS isn't completly insane. Tomorrow, LV is planning on sending WT to find me. I wonder if he knows about the visions.
He let the thought die off, and waited paitently for the "ink" to dry. Watching it dry was not a very exciting process, but there was nothing else for him to really do. His school things were locked up in his old room, and Hedwig was off delivering a letter to Ron, reassuring the Red haired boy that he, Harry, was fine. The blood finally dry, Harry put all the patpers back in order before binding them tighly with a ribbon. He vauguly realizzed that he was getting more blood on the packet, but was too weary to really care. Absently he noticed a sliver smudge on one part of the ribbon, but attributed it to a trick of the light. Setting it on Dud;ey's old desk, Harry searched the room for one of the old shirts he had been using as a makeshift bandage. As he settled into an uneasy sleep, he didn't notice the white owl that flew through the broken window to land on the desk. Deep in Morepheus' embrace, he didn't even see the bird leave again, a package clutched tightly in her talons. The next thing Harry knew was the late mid morning. One of the first things he knew was that his papers were gone. While he sat there, eyes wide behind thick glass lenses, the storm raged, wild winds tossing any unsecured items around.
At first, Harry was too shocked to move. The steadily growing stack of paper had been a thing of comfort to him the past few weeks. It couldn't have just dissapeared. Filled with denial, Harry lept out of bed as fast as his forgotten muscles would let him. HE frantically searched the desk, then the area around the desk, and then the rest of the room. A burst of wind came through the broken window, setting the blanket and some of Dudley's old clothes to dancing. The sight filled Harry with fright.
'If the wind picked it up, or the rain got to it... No, don't think of that Harry. You tied it up last night, and it would be too heavy for the wind to take it away.' Harry tried to reassure himself that there was no way that someone else would read of the attacks. Eventually, he would give it to Dumbledore, or maybe just leave it in the Chamber of Secrects for some future parsletounge to find. He worried so much about the packet that he let his body go on auto piloet. For the first time in over a week, Harry cleaned up and changed his clothes. Aunt Petunia had left him breakfast, and he at it cold without thinking. As he was taking the last bite, Harry became aware of what he was doing. For the first time since the triwizard tournament, he had eaten a whole meal without having to fight to keep it down. He slowly lowered the spoon back o the tray and closed his eyes against the framiliar wave of grief and nausea that accompainied any thoughts of the tournament and...Cedric. And as he sat alone in the tiny room filled with broken dreams, someone far away was watching a snowy owl on its way to Hogwarts.
*~*~*~*~*
Albus Dumbledore had seen many things in his century and a half long life. It was because he had seen so many things that it was hard to surprize him. Having a snowy owl, most likely belonging to one Mr. Potter, on its way o his office was not surprizing. He knew about the boy's connection to Voldemort, most likely strengthened by Harry's blood being used for the other's resurection. He had, in fact, as the boy to owl him if the childs scar hurt. Witht he amount of activity Voldemort and his followers were up to, the only thing eally surprizing was that Hedwig hadn't been sent to him earlier. Albus opened the window allowing the too chill for summer air to invade his office. The fire flickered its protest, something Fawkes echoed with a ruffle of his feathers and a discontented chirp. Albus cheerfully cleaned a small section of his desk for the bird to perch on while he read Harry's note. So sure was he f what the not would contain that he bagian to review it in his head.
'Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,
I hate to disturb your summer but my scar's been prickling...'
His musings were interupted as HEdwig swooped in and dropped what could be a book on his desk. Hedwig herself perched on the back of a chair and hooted mournfully at him. Surprize faded into shock and then fear. With trembling hands ('when did they get so old?') Albus brought the packet of parchment towards him. Faded brown ink screamed at him the name of the child he thought he knew. Spots of the same liquid, redder than the name, glared up at him. Silver was smeared across the top page, a thumbprit in stark relief. Reverently, he untited the faded ribbon. And then, he began to read.
June 20th
I begin this journal in hopes that even if the Ministry manages to cover up what truely happens this usmmer of 1994, at least there will be some record of what really happened. Last night, I had a vision. Voldemort (LV) was very annoyed and cursed each Death Eater (DE) as they appeared. Severus Snape (SS), potions master at Hogwarts (H) and spy for Dumbedore (D), got the most, having to run to the apparition point made him one of the last to arrive. They're panning a small attack on a muggle home far from their own place, as to not arouse suspicion. I hope those porr people can be warned, but as no family was named, I doubt that my hope shall be realized...
Page after page of blood, death tolls, and curses. Slowly, the tone changed and more ititals appeared, those of his family As the picture of Harry's homelife became clearer, Albus closed his eyes in shame.
"He didn't ask for you to give me this, did he." It wasn't a question, but Hedwig shook her head sadly all the same. Albus's eyes snaped open and he hurred over the fireplace. Grapping a handful of poweder, he tossed it into the flames, calling "Severus Snape." The disgruntled face of the Potions Master appeared in the flames.
"What is it Albus, I'm in the middle of brewing some pain relieveing potions for Poppy's stores."
"Severus, I'm terribly sorry for disturbing you, but I have just recived som terrible new. Harry..."
"What, has that brat been caputred alread?"
"No, but it appears he's been sharing your pain." There was a pause, and then the expected explosion.
"WHAT?!?!?!?! Of all the hairbrained, uncoth, idiotic things..."
"Now Severus, it truely isn't the bys fault, but if you could manage to make your way to my office, I'll tell you and Remus at the same time." Before the younger man could say another word, Albus broke the connection and tossed anouther hadful into the much abused flames. "Remus Lupin." He had to wait a few moments, Snuffles was visiting, and the one fireplace was far away from the other rooms of the house. Finally, Remus appeared.
"Headmaster Dumbledore! What can I do for you?" Albus had always like the gentle werewolf and looked at his haggared face with worry. the full moon was tomorrow.
"If you have time, I would like you to identify a substance for me. I have my suspicions, but your sense of smell would be greatly appriciated." The werewolf glanced at something out of the fire.
"I'm comming through." Albus stepped back. Everything happened at once, Hedwig shrieked and launched herself out of the still open window, Severus slammed through the office door muttering obscenities not quite under his breath, and Remus stepped through the fire only to stuble back, eyes wide with shock. Albus reached forward to steady the younger man before he burned his robes.
"What is it Remus?" Snape sneered and opened his mouth to say (yet another) biting remark before Albus silenced him with A Look.
"It.. blood." The color had drained from the werewolfes face and his arm trembeled in Albus' grasp.
"Then it is as I feared. Harry Potter has been writing a journal for over a month in his own blood." Their reactions were as he expect, Snape blinked (his admitance to being agasht) and Remus let out a low moan of pain.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Back at Pivet Drive, Harry was also letting out a moan of pain, but it was for an entirely different reason. His Aunt Petunia had taken Dudley out for a shopping trip, leaving Harry alone with an angry, drunken Uncle Vernon. Said man was currently standing over his nephews quivering form, blood on his fist.
"Remember boy, you keep that freaky stuff of yours out of my house, and you may not have to go through this again." Completly calm, ration, just any respectable adult punishing an errant child, even though said punishment had been delivered by fists. Chuckling nastily to himself, Vernon left the room, making sure to lock it behind him. Unaware of being caged, Harry was trying his best not to cough. Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain and deep, hacking coughs shook his too thin frame and made his ribs burn with an inner fire. Blood welled up out of his ches and onto the floor, to be followed by more from his mouth. Dimly, he was aware when Hedwig came back and hooted mournfully in his ear, but he was too weak to raise a finger to soothe the distressed bird. The coughing fit passed and he laid his weary head on the floor, uncaring that the bloot was coating his inky locks. Images danced in front of his eyes, vaugely voices registered. Harry had just enough frame of mind to note his dorr was slamming ipen before finally surrendering to the dark.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
When Albus had informed the two men about the journal, they were both concerned. Well, Remus was concerned, Severus was livid. It was only after the werewolf and headmaster had forced a calming potion down his throat that he was able to discuss the situatiopn like a reasionable adult. That is, mentioning the various things he was going to do to the boy every ten sentances instead of every other one. Shortly afterward, the three men left Hogwarts to find Harry Potter and save him.
Its just an HP fanfic (yes, I know, laugh it up Rins and Cas). It can be found
It wasnot a normal night in Surrey. Particularily, it was not a normal night on Pivet Drive. What made it odd was the fact that the air was absoulutely still; this would not have been considered abnormal, if it weren't for the fact that one of the "worst storms of the century" had been flinging its worst at the perfectly identical, impecably normal homes only seconds before. On this not completly normal night, a not so normal boy was sitting crosslegged on his narrow cot in the smallest bedroom of Number 4 Pivet Drive. His head was bowed, the ends of his unruly mop of hair, now longer than it had been in the begining of summer, brushed the frayed hem of his one thin blanket that was currently serving as a cape. If he was in anyway concerned about the sudden silence of the outside world, he didn't show it. As the sky cleared itself of coulds, moonlight poured into the room, lighting up the boy and the few items on the cot that he was staring at. The first object to catch the light was a knife, dried blood marring its silver surface. Next to it lay a white quill, the only spot of color on it was its red stained tip. The only other object on the bed was a thick stack of papers, the top one baring only two works in faded brown not-ink
Harry Potter
for that is the name of the emancicated and scarred boy on the bed. And how the boy-who-lived really didn't.
'It's quite odd,' Harry mused. 'It's quite odd to be so fascinated with your own name.' He reached out a trembling finger, bright white in the moon light, and slowly traced the letteres on the parchment in fromt of him. Harry then slowly raised his head, once brillant green eyes pale with grief and doubt and nearly swallowed by the black circles that surrounded them. Inky black curls did little to hide the famous lightning bolt scar that burned silver. Thin cheecks were flushed with fever, the only bright color on his face. Still resting one finger on the parchment, he brought the other one to his forehead and brushed it absently, leaving a trail of crimson substance behind. Shuffling through the parchments, he laid many pages of the brown scrawl to the side before finding a blank one. Almost reverently, Harry brought his arm, the one that had wiped his forehead, into the moonlight. Several gashes lined the flesh from elbow to wrist. None of them were particularily deep or wide, but the still healing wounds filled him with a sense of dread. Pushing the thoughts and emotion aside, Harry picked up the wuill and gently wet the tip in the inly cut still open. The quill, now a glistening scarlett on white, was slowly lowered to the fresh sheet of parchment as he began to write.
July 29,
I have yet to leave my room. U.V. dcided that if I don't do something soon, he's not going to be responsible. That's surprisingly nice, coming from him. AP keeps rying to feed me. She keeps shoving actually decent food through the cat flap, but I'm so nausous, that it hurts to even think about foot. But, this isn't supposed to be about me. Please, whoever reads this, forgive my bouts of selfishness. LV sent out DE's tonight. They're having a grand time torturing muggles and burning their homes to the ground. Some of these people are relatives to the muggle born witches at H. He expects this to be only slightly more difficult than "muggle hunting", but must have a plan to keep Dumbledore and Auror's from being called. Usual plans for world domination. Has werewolves & some giants on side. SS tortured many times. Must remember to ask D or PP why SS isn't completly insane. Tomorrow, LV is planning on sending WT to find me. I wonder if he knows about the visions.
He let the thought die off, and waited paitently for the "ink" to dry. Watching it dry was not a very exciting process, but there was nothing else for him to really do. His school things were locked up in his old room, and Hedwig was off delivering a letter to Ron, reassuring the Red haired boy that he, Harry, was fine. The blood finally dry, Harry put all the patpers back in order before binding them tighly with a ribbon. He vauguly realizzed that he was getting more blood on the packet, but was too weary to really care. Absently he noticed a sliver smudge on one part of the ribbon, but attributed it to a trick of the light. Setting it on Dud;ey's old desk, Harry searched the room for one of the old shirts he had been using as a makeshift bandage. As he settled into an uneasy sleep, he didn't notice the white owl that flew through the broken window to land on the desk. Deep in Morepheus' embrace, he didn't even see the bird leave again, a package clutched tightly in her talons. The next thing Harry knew was the late mid morning. One of the first things he knew was that his papers were gone. While he sat there, eyes wide behind thick glass lenses, the storm raged, wild winds tossing any unsecured items around.
At first, Harry was too shocked to move. The steadily growing stack of paper had been a thing of comfort to him the past few weeks. It couldn't have just dissapeared. Filled with denial, Harry lept out of bed as fast as his forgotten muscles would let him. HE frantically searched the desk, then the area around the desk, and then the rest of the room. A burst of wind came through the broken window, setting the blanket and some of Dudley's old clothes to dancing. The sight filled Harry with fright.
'If the wind picked it up, or the rain got to it... No, don't think of that Harry. You tied it up last night, and it would be too heavy for the wind to take it away.' Harry tried to reassure himself that there was no way that someone else would read of the attacks. Eventually, he would give it to Dumbledore, or maybe just leave it in the Chamber of Secrects for some future parsletounge to find. He worried so much about the packet that he let his body go on auto piloet. For the first time in over a week, Harry cleaned up and changed his clothes. Aunt Petunia had left him breakfast, and he at it cold without thinking. As he was taking the last bite, Harry became aware of what he was doing. For the first time since the triwizard tournament, he had eaten a whole meal without having to fight to keep it down. He slowly lowered the spoon back o the tray and closed his eyes against the framiliar wave of grief and nausea that accompainied any thoughts of the tournament and...Cedric. And as he sat alone in the tiny room filled with broken dreams, someone far away was watching a snowy owl on its way to Hogwarts.
*~*~*~*~*
Albus Dumbledore had seen many things in his century and a half long life. It was because he had seen so many things that it was hard to surprize him. Having a snowy owl, most likely belonging to one Mr. Potter, on its way o his office was not surprizing. He knew about the boy's connection to Voldemort, most likely strengthened by Harry's blood being used for the other's resurection. He had, in fact, as the boy to owl him if the childs scar hurt. Witht he amount of activity Voldemort and his followers were up to, the only thing eally surprizing was that Hedwig hadn't been sent to him earlier. Albus opened the window allowing the too chill for summer air to invade his office. The fire flickered its protest, something Fawkes echoed with a ruffle of his feathers and a discontented chirp. Albus cheerfully cleaned a small section of his desk for the bird to perch on while he read Harry's note. So sure was he f what the not would contain that he bagian to review it in his head.
'Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,
I hate to disturb your summer but my scar's been prickling...'
His musings were interupted as HEdwig swooped in and dropped what could be a book on his desk. Hedwig herself perched on the back of a chair and hooted mournfully at him. Surprize faded into shock and then fear. With trembling hands ('when did they get so old?') Albus brought the packet of parchment towards him. Faded brown ink screamed at him the name of the child he thought he knew. Spots of the same liquid, redder than the name, glared up at him. Silver was smeared across the top page, a thumbprit in stark relief. Reverently, he untited the faded ribbon. And then, he began to read.
June 20th
I begin this journal in hopes that even if the Ministry manages to cover up what truely happens this usmmer of 1994, at least there will be some record of what really happened. Last night, I had a vision. Voldemort (LV) was very annoyed and cursed each Death Eater (DE) as they appeared. Severus Snape (SS), potions master at Hogwarts (H) and spy for Dumbedore (D), got the most, having to run to the apparition point made him one of the last to arrive. They're panning a small attack on a muggle home far from their own place, as to not arouse suspicion. I hope those porr people can be warned, but as no family was named, I doubt that my hope shall be realized...
Page after page of blood, death tolls, and curses. Slowly, the tone changed and more ititals appeared, those of his family As the picture of Harry's homelife became clearer, Albus closed his eyes in shame.
"He didn't ask for you to give me this, did he." It wasn't a question, but Hedwig shook her head sadly all the same. Albus's eyes snaped open and he hurred over the fireplace. Grapping a handful of poweder, he tossed it into the flames, calling "Severus Snape." The disgruntled face of the Potions Master appeared in the flames.
"What is it Albus, I'm in the middle of brewing some pain relieveing potions for Poppy's stores."
"Severus, I'm terribly sorry for disturbing you, but I have just recived som terrible new. Harry..."
"What, has that brat been caputred alread?"
"No, but it appears he's been sharing your pain." There was a pause, and then the expected explosion.
"WHAT?!?!?!?! Of all the hairbrained, uncoth, idiotic things..."
"Now Severus, it truely isn't the bys fault, but if you could manage to make your way to my office, I'll tell you and Remus at the same time." Before the younger man could say another word, Albus broke the connection and tossed anouther hadful into the much abused flames. "Remus Lupin." He had to wait a few moments, Snuffles was visiting, and the one fireplace was far away from the other rooms of the house. Finally, Remus appeared.
"Headmaster Dumbledore! What can I do for you?" Albus had always like the gentle werewolf and looked at his haggared face with worry. the full moon was tomorrow.
"If you have time, I would like you to identify a substance for me. I have my suspicions, but your sense of smell would be greatly appriciated." The werewolf glanced at something out of the fire.
"I'm comming through." Albus stepped back. Everything happened at once, Hedwig shrieked and launched herself out of the still open window, Severus slammed through the office door muttering obscenities not quite under his breath, and Remus stepped through the fire only to stuble back, eyes wide with shock. Albus reached forward to steady the younger man before he burned his robes.
"What is it Remus?" Snape sneered and opened his mouth to say (yet another) biting remark before Albus silenced him with A Look.
"It.. blood." The color had drained from the werewolfes face and his arm trembeled in Albus' grasp.
"Then it is as I feared. Harry Potter has been writing a journal for over a month in his own blood." Their reactions were as he expect, Snape blinked (his admitance to being agasht) and Remus let out a low moan of pain.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Back at Pivet Drive, Harry was also letting out a moan of pain, but it was for an entirely different reason. His Aunt Petunia had taken Dudley out for a shopping trip, leaving Harry alone with an angry, drunken Uncle Vernon. Said man was currently standing over his nephews quivering form, blood on his fist.
"Remember boy, you keep that freaky stuff of yours out of my house, and you may not have to go through this again." Completly calm, ration, just any respectable adult punishing an errant child, even though said punishment had been delivered by fists. Chuckling nastily to himself, Vernon left the room, making sure to lock it behind him. Unaware of being caged, Harry was trying his best not to cough. Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain and deep, hacking coughs shook his too thin frame and made his ribs burn with an inner fire. Blood welled up out of his ches and onto the floor, to be followed by more from his mouth. Dimly, he was aware when Hedwig came back and hooted mournfully in his ear, but he was too weak to raise a finger to soothe the distressed bird. The coughing fit passed and he laid his weary head on the floor, uncaring that the bloot was coating his inky locks. Images danced in front of his eyes, vaugely voices registered. Harry had just enough frame of mind to note his dorr was slamming ipen before finally surrendering to the dark.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
When Albus had informed the two men about the journal, they were both concerned. Well, Remus was concerned, Severus was livid. It was only after the werewolf and headmaster had forced a calming potion down his throat that he was able to discuss the situatiopn like a reasionable adult. That is, mentioning the various things he was going to do to the boy every ten sentances instead of every other one. Shortly afterward, the three men left Hogwarts to find Harry Potter and save him.