Fanfiction

Harry Potter and the Eye of Power--by Berilac

Title: Harry Potter 6
Author: Berilac
Rating: PG

Summary: Despite the fact that the Ministry of Magic now believes Harry Potter and Professor Dumbledore's stories about Lord Voldemort returning to power to be true, things appear to be getting not better-- but complicatedly worse. During his summer months, Harry is more than isolated from the wizarding world than he was before and the dreams that haunted him last year return with a vengeance. They intensify, replicating tragic events from the prior year and adding things that hadn't happened. Frightening things. Unthinkable things...

Not only are Harry's dreams becoming problematic, but it appears that someone (one can only guess who) really wants Harry out of the way. Constant surprises and horrendous occurrences ensue during the next year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A hidden power is revealed to be somewhere-- but the somewhere is unknown. And even with Voldemort continually festering for this special power-- searching for it while reeking subtle havoc everywhere else-- Harry has to try and overcome his current fears at school. He has to find what he is really capable of academically. He also has to realize how emotionally capable he is while he is trying to control and master his greatest fears...

Not to mention this power is huge enough to put an end to Harry and even the whole of Hogwarts-- power huge enough to completely alter the face of the planet. And this power is closer to Harry than he realizes.

Chapter One: Grades and Grief

The glowing sun began to rise slowly into a scarlet tinged sky one particular July morning. A faint curtain of light continued its endless crawl onto the neatly manicured lawns and the cleanly swept sidewalks of Privet Drive. The light eventually reached through one of the second-story windows of Number Four where there was slight movement going on despite the still early hours of the morning.

Actually, Harry Potter had been awake for a good three hours or so before the ebullient sun had emerged from the flat and ordinary horizon that was visible from his flat and ordinary window, surrounded completely by the flat and ordinary community of houses on Privet Drive. The brightness of the room increased slowly as the sun rose into the limpid blue sea of sky. Harry walked over from his bed to the lamp and clicked it off, as it was useless now.

There were books strewn haphazardly on the floor, ink bottles tilted and used were settled on top of loose leafs of parchment like paperweights, Hedwig was perched on top of her cage having just arrived back from a particularly eventful night of hunting.

It was the usual scene, the start of a usual day, the continuation of a usual summer with the Dursleys. And it was so usual that Harry could not take it any longer...not one more day....

Harry had been reluctant to have the commonplace morning, the same old evening and nighttime events, and worst of all -- the typical relations with his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia (most of all with his now larger and slightly stronger cousin, Dudley, who seemed to have grown frighteningly more in height and breadth.) The normal, boring, everyday occurrences brought about an unsavory atmosphere that hung over Harry and his room like a dark and depressing rain cloud. Feelings returned day in and day out, and they began to seep into his head and spread about his body like an epidemic. Wants -- the want to have someone near him that cared about how he felt; the want to know what was happening in the wizarding world, the want to escape from Dudley and his constant leering which seemed to triple in frequency this year (it appeared that Dudley gave up on punching Harry), and in all, the want to perhaps enjoy his summer away from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

But how could Harry enjoy the summer when he had to constantly owl members of the Order of the Phoenix who requested him to keep in touch with them -- namely Mad-Eye Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, and Remus Lupin? Right before Harry left with the Dursleys for a foreseeable summer hellhole, the three made sure the Dursleys would treat him well over the summer -- or else. Plus, Moody made it certain Harry would write every four days or so to make sure he was getting the proper treatment a fifteen-year-old (almost sixteen-year-old) should. The first time Harry didn't write in time would be his last...he didn't think his aunt or uncle would ever forgive him for what had happened....

Harry was in the middle of writing another note to Mad-Eye, insisting that everything was fine even though it very well wasn't fine. And that was when he had fallen asleep face-down upon the forgotten letter.... The parchment was smudged horribly in now dry black ink and lying on the bed, deep uneven creases in different places where Harry had lain upon it. He crumpled up the ruined leaf of parchment and tossed in into the bulging wastepaper basket near the warped wooden door that barricaded Harry from the other three members of the Dursely household.

Also...how could Harry enjoy the summer when he sparingly received any notes from Ron or Hermione? Of course there was the "hope-your-summer's-going-well" note about a week after Harry had arrived at Privet Drive from the both of them, but other than that, no owls had swooped down into Harry's room since then -- no more notes from his two best friends, or from Hagrid, the Hogwarts game-keeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher, or especially from --

The sun's glittering radiance soaked the whole room with an optimistic glow. Harry walked over to the window and opened it quickly. A faint breeze slowly crept into the small room, lightly fluttering a few of the loose scraps of paper that littered the dusty floor. After taking in the cool, crisp air of morning, Harry's insides lurched unexpectedly, his mind racing from what he had just thought about. He slammed the window shut, the loud clang reverberating around his room. Outside, birds flew away into the reddish pink sky in surprise at the sudden noise. Movement a room over became noticeable; he had awoken his aunt and uncle.

Harry leapt onto his bed and dove underneath the covers, breathing as little as possible, eyes gaping open, staring into the blackness.

As he was remembering about how he had barely received mail from anyone, Harry's mind had traveled across a very impenetrable topic that he had only come across in his dreams -- Sirius.

Of course he did think about his late godfather from time to time -- sparingly though, trying not to harp upon the realization that he really was gone -- having fallen through a sinister black veil in the Department of Mysteries a month ago, with the aid of his cousin and enemy, Bellatrix Lestrange.

The scene was always clearly splayed out in his head as he slept away in his bed: Sirius and Bellatrix were dueling, Sirius was dodging continual curses given by his cousin -- until one had caught him off-guard, making him lose his balance and fall backwards, through the mysterious veil -- a veil into the unknown -- the Veil -- the portal into death -- the portal that Sirius had fallen through -- only a month ago....

But it seemed like ages ago. Harry would continually see this vision every night. Sirius falling, careening to his death -- a death so quick, so non-dramatic, so unreal -- that it would cause Harry to scream ferociously and wake up in a sweat, tangled in his bed sheets, his scar searing with intense pain.

Then there was the odd dream Harry had once, a dream that never happened in reality. It involved the Veil -- the Veil, fluttering slowly and mellifluously -- like ocean waves engulfed in a midnight darkness... A high-pitch scream would follow from outside the lonesome Veil and then the whisper of a voice...a familiar voice...a voice that Harry longed to hear once more...but only upon waking up did he know who it really was.

And then he would forget what the voice sounded like. It was as if someone had erased the memory of that certain something that he wished to have the most over everything else in the world.

-- But you know what Sirius's voice sounded like! You've heard him countless times in the past! --

Harry would battle with his mind, clutching at his scar, the familiar ache continually painful and always aggravating.

-- If Voldemort hadn't given you that stupid scar, then none of it would have happened really.... It wouldn't have been you.... You'd have lived a normal life.... Sirius would have still been alive.... --

Just thinking about it made the lightning-shaped scar prickle on his forehead underneath his unruly jet-black mop of hair.

The noise his aunt and uncle were making receded and Harry thought it safe to exit from his blankets. He stood up and readjusted his glasses on his head. He then stretched, his long skinny arms almost reaching the cobwebbed ceiling. Harry had grown another few inches over the past month -- as if whatever Aunt Pentunia was feeding him was causing him to rise higher like a beanstalk.

It was never a commonplace sight to see Harry gorging on food—but this time around was different. The exceptionally meager and barely edible tidbits had transformed into succulent dinners and desserts that would fill Dudley up. (Still this didn't add to Harry's happiness or contentedness...)

Harry sighed heavily as he grabbed his sneakers from a dirty pile of clothes and forced them onto his aching now-too-large feet. Then he headed for the door, hoping to have a small walk to hopefully clear his mind before his aunt or uncle pinned him with chores or errands to do for the day. But before he could touch the metal doorknob, a fluttering of wings and a disapproving click by Hedwig made Harry wheel around on the spot.

A tawny barn owl was perched against the windowsill, now pecking his beak against the glass, wishing to enter the room. Harry acquiesced and opened the window once more. The owl streaked onto his bed and stood in a dignified manner, chest puffed out hooting importantly.

Harry took the note attached to the owl's ankles and sat down on his messy bed, causing the barn owl to take off out the window and into the glistening sunrise, now heavily shadowed by puffy bluish clouds.

Completely curious and wondering who would finally be courteous enough to send him a letter, Harry decided to have a small look at the note. To his surprise, and somewhat to his excitement, he saw the familiar green stamped crest of Hogwarts on the back of the envelope. He ripped it open and read the letter, his heart leaping up to his throat at every word he saw. First nervousness prevailed as he read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

We hope that your summer holiday has gone particularly well and that you are enjoying the few weeks you have off from school. After a month of careful consideration and evaluation, the results to your Ordinary Wizarding Level exams (O.W.L.s) have finally been marked and given out in full by those who had tested you at the end of June. Enclosed is another smaller leaf of parchment that states your O.W.L. score for each of the examinations that you were tested on. Have a good rest of the summer and may your choices and decisions in the future be smart and reflective upon the scores you have received.

Sincerely,

Griselda Marchbanks

Head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority

Harry's heart continued to thump forcefully in his chest as he read the final words of the letter. The nervousness quickly subsided and excitement swam around merrily inside him. He peeked into his envelope and pulled out another smaller, frayed piece of parchment that appeared brown and singed along the edges. Without another second's pause, Harry unrolled the paper and looked at the writing....

O.W.L. SCORES for Harry James Potter

Student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Astronomy--------------------------------------A
Care of Magical Creatures----------------------E
Charms-----------------------------------------O
Defense Against the Dark Arts------------------O
Divination-------------------------------------P
Herbology--------------------------------------E
History of Magic-------------------------------A
Potions----------------------------------------O
Transfiguration--------------------------------E

As Harry looked over the list the first time, he balked and had to reread it again. This couldn't be his test results! They appeared to be almost at Hermione's caliber, except for the Divination grade, which he could have guessed would have been abysmal. But three Oustanding O.W.L.s? What was even more surprising was what he received them in. Defense Against the Dark Arts was a given "O", but he did not think that he did that superb in Charms, and certainly not in Potions!

Harry was writhing excitedly on top of his bed, the parchment with his O.W.L grades shaking uncontrollably in his sweaty hands. He had managed to get eight passing O.W.L.s out of the nine that he had taken! What were the odds of doing that...! He could have sworn he'd failed History of Magic and done poorly in the Astronomy exam! Harry even got an "E" in Transfiguration! How Harry even did that was anybody's guess....

As he continued to stare at the seemingly impossible test results, Harry recalled to a certain time when he had a meeting with his head of house, Professor McGonagall. It was last year and about what he was going to do after graduating Hogwarts. Although it seemed extremely far-fetched, Harry had opted to try pursuing a career as an Auror. And Professor McGonagall stated during his meeting that he needed to get Outstanding O.W.L.s in many of the subjects he was in...all of which he certainly got. And what was even more outstanding, was that he got an "O" in Potions! In Potions...!

And then the excitement flooded out of him completely.... Potions... Two more years of Potions...two more years with Professor Snape... That would mean two more excruciating years having to gaze upon that disgusting hooked nose, those baring black eyes, the greasy shoulder-length hair, that twisted malicious sneer, and the fact that Harry knew that Snape could indeed read minds in a way.... And now, seeing as how his and Snape's relationship wasn't the sunniest after last year, Harry couldn't see how he would be able to stand another full year, save two, with him.

Harry still had not forgotten his Occlumency lessons from last year, when Snape unsuccessfully had tried to stop Harry from having recurring dreams about a dark corridor that lead to a mysterious opening -- a mysterious doorway, which in turn was actually the Department of Mysteries. It was a dream that Voldemort had taken a hold of after realizing that Harry himself could look into Voldemort's thoughts. He had tricked Harry into going to the Deparment of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic. Voldemort had tricked Harry into thinking that Sirius was being tortured into trying to steal a prophecy that Harry himself had gotten hold of. The prophecy was destroyed, but Dumbledore had told Harry all about it...all about it...about what horrible deed he had to do in order to stop everything...everything....

And that thought came into Harry's mind once again as he peered down at the paper. Everything revolved around either Voldemort or Sirius...neither thoughts bringing Harry any comfort, any happiness, any encouragement to make him go through the day without the clinging sense of loneliness, despair, anger, frustration, or complete dissociation.

Harry took one last glance at the exam results, peered ahead at the rising sun, almost blinding in its radiance and reflection, and crumpled up the piece of parchment, chucking it aside, littering the already messy floor full of books, parchment, and clothing.

And when that was done, Harry went back to his bedroom door, unlocked it, and went downstairs -- to another usual day -- to another usual interaction with people he hated -- to another usual night where the thoughts of Sirius and everything that had happened to Harry would continue to recur and intensify -- to another morning -- to another eternity...an eternity Harry wanted to get away from as soon as humanly possible.

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Posted by rockygirl at July 29, 2003 08:33 PM