PR: Boy-Who-Lived

PHOENIX REBORN: Chapter 2: Boy-Who-Lived

He awoke with a start, and lay staring at the ceiling in confusion, having had no idea what had awoken him.

Then there was a bang, and the whole house shuddered. It sounded, and felt, as if something as large as a building had fallen over several streets away.

Harry sat up and fumbled for his glasses. He sprang up and ran to the window, and when he saw it, it was almost as though he had been expecting it. Several streets away, a Dark Mark glittered and cast its ghostly green light over the house rooftops.

He found his wand, and flung on a jumper over his pyjamas. Someone, who lived in the back of his head, was reminding him that he should stay in Privet Drive, but Harry was not in the mood for listening to that sensible little voice. He felt a sort of reckless despair welling up inside of him. Did it really matter if a Death Eater was waiting outside to curse him into oblivion?

The Dursleys, unbelievably, remained asleep as he crept out of his room and down the darkened stairs as the house juddered again with a distant crash. He eased open the front door and emerged into the darkened street. The night air was chilly and several lights were on in nearby houses, as if several occupants of Privet Drive had been woken by the commotion. Harry couldn’t care. He turned and dashed off in the direction of where he judged the Dark Mark to be. He had no idea what he intended to do once he got there.

A part of him wanted Bellatrix to be there. He wanted to curse her, he wanted to make her feel a good deal of pain. Harry’s mind refused to deal with the idea of himself actually pointing the wand at her and saying the dread words, but his rage and grief drove him on.

If Voldemort was there - well - wasn’t that what he was supposed to do? Fight Voldemort or die in the attempt?

He cut his feet several times on sharp stones and broken glass, but did not acknowledge the pain and ran on anyway. Little things like that did not matter anymore.

He rounded a corner and saw that he had arrived - and at the same time, the sensible little voice in his head stopped him dead.

Sirius died trying to save you. Who might die if you need to be saved from this, too?

He skidded to a halt, heart thumping. He couldn’t turn and go back to number four, not now, but at the same time, he did not want to give Voldemort or his followers the opportunity to rob him of another friend. He stepped back in the shadows - and then stood immobilised with horror at the scene.

A muggle house had been broken open. The air was abnormally cold - several Dementors were gathered around the burning ruin, obviously hoping to feed. Shadowy, hooded, masked figures ran in and out of the house, laughing. A teenage girl, who looked to be about Harry’s age, was lying dead, spread-eagled on the lawn outside - having clearly been cut down in mid-flight. A woman who looked to be her mother was screaming shrilly in pain, as a Death Eater stood and trained his wand on her, cackling.

Harry felt sick as his eyes took in more of the horror. A man was lying half in and half out the front door, his blood staining everything nearby. It looked as though a Severing Charm had been used to cut off his limbs one by one. Flames seemed to be staining the very air red.

Muggles were frozen at their windows, gaping in horror. Some of them had seemingly tried to intervene - which explained why a pile of limp, unmoving people lay near the Dementors. As Harry watched, a Death Eater emerged from the house, holding a screaming five year old boy aloft. Chuckling obscenely, he made a gesture of offering towards the Dementors.

Harry couldn’t stand it any longer. He couldn’t stand aside whilst this happened. Brandishing his wand, he leapt out from the shadows and tried to summon up a happy memory that would fight the power of the Dementors. But no memory came to him. Standing, frozen, wand raised, soul weighed down with grief and despair and brain struggling to remember something happy, it was only a matter of seconds before one of the Death Eaters saw him.

A masked face turned in his direction.

The Death Eater let out a harsh cry of alarm, but Harry’s muscles had sprung into action again.

“Stupefy!” he cried, sending a red beam of magic at the Death Eater. The Death Eater crumpled, but not the others were aware.

“Crucio!” snarled a voice from behind Harry, but he did not stop to look behind and dived out of the way.

“Reducto! Impedimenta!” Harry yelled, sending one Death Eater flying but missing the other. The cold tore at his soul; the Dementors were moving in.

He looked for the Death Eater holding the struggling boy and ran at him, afraid to hex the man for fear of hitting the child accidentally.

“Crucio!” shrieked the voice from behind again and the sudden pain drove Harry to the ground. It felt as though hundreds of needles were being dug into him and then drawn upwards. Through his pain, Harry saw a flash of green light: the woman’s misery had been ended, and the boy started screaming with renewed volume.

Harry staggered upwards and whirled around.

“PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!” he roared at the Death Eater who’d attacked him twice from behind; the man fell to the ground, stiff as a board.

He turned around in time to see one of the Dementors seize the little boy around the neck and lower its hood-

“EXPECTO-” he started to scream, but he wasn’t focussing, he still couldn’t find a happy memory-

“SILENCIO!” shouted the Death Eater who had handed the boy over, and no noise would come from Harry’s mouth.

He saw the Dementor clamp its jaws around the boy’s mouth-

He wanted to scream something in denial, and he was running madly towards the Dementors-

“REDUCTO!” called the Death Eater again; the spell hit Harry in the legs and sent him flying.
He hit the ground hard and tasted blood-

-The boy was limp, his eyes empty. The Dementors were gliding towards him now-

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” screamed three voices from seemingly nowhere.

At once, three Patronuses were galloping towards the Dementors, shining like beacons in the night. The Aurors had arrived, spells flew over his head towards the remaining Death Eaters-

-He didn’t care. He scrambled upwards and pelted towards the house.

He jumped over the body of the man in the doorway and ran into a world of smoke and heat. Choking in the dark smog, he saw the staircase through a haze and dashed upwards, looking for survivors-

The flames were driving him back, their blistering heat singing his jumper. He glanced, eyes streaming, through the doorways-

-A room which the flames had not yet reached. A cot. A baby.

Everything seemed to suddenly stand still. For a moment, the smoke and the flames faded into insignificance. The baby might have been sleeping. Harry could see the dark eyelashes set against pale, soft skin. As if in a dream, Harry leant forward and slid his arms under the baby’s neck and legs and lifted. The baby hung limply in his arms.

This should have been him. If everything that fateful night had happened according to Voldemort’s plans, this should have been him. He should have died like that, unmarked, as if still sleeping. This should have been him.

A hand suddenly grabbed his arm. Still holding the baby, he was being dragged outside into the chilly night air - still clutching a dead body-

“HARRY!”

Remus Lupin was dashing towards him and his Auror rescuer, eyes wide and panicked in his pale, lined face. Harry felt nothing.

Lupin stopped at the last second, having just seen the baby in Harry’s arms. Harry could see the shock and sadness in his eyes. Soundlessly, helplessly, he offered the baby up to him.

Lupin gaped at the baby, mouth opening and shutting, at a loss. Perhaps he was thinking the same as he had done, thought Harry dully. Perhaps he was thinking about how this could easily have been a baby Harry.

Harry felt something slide down his cheek. Lupin was looking at him in pity and horror. He seemed not to know what to do. Harry didn’t blame him; how could anyone respond when they have had a dead baby thrust at them?

“Remus-” There was a gasp and the voice was cut off.

Beyond Lupin, Harry could see Albus Dumbledore standing there, seemingly momentarily frozen. Then he was right beside them and Harry couldn’t remember the intervening time at all.
Dumbledore’s eyes were filled with pain as he looked at Harry holding the dead baby. Harry was sure he saw the old wizard blink back tears.

“Harry.” Dumbledore’s arms were held out, shaking slightly.

Harry stared blankly at Dumbledore, unable to speak - and not just because of the silencing spell. He gently set the baby in Dumbledore’s arms. Dumbledore caressed it to him in a way that seemed as though he thought the baby was still alive.

Realising dimly that the silencing spell should have worn off by now, he found his voice.

“It’s dead.”

He had meant to just inform Dumbledore that it was dead so that the wizard didn’t keep on cuddling the baby - it was too painful to watch - but to his own ears, his voice sounded wondering, startled. The strength suddenly seemed to leave him and he swayed precariously. Lupin supported him, looking as though he was about to throw up.

“I-I’ll t-take that, s-sir.”

A young Auror had stepped up to Dumbledore, holding out a pair of arms that were shaking like spaghetti. Harry felt a sensation of vague sympathy: the Auror was so young; it looked as though this was his first mission.

“No need,” said Dumbledore quietly, his gaze alternating between the baby and Harry.

There was a loud pop and Mad-Eye Moody Apparated next to them.

Harry saw his magical eye whiz around and take in the situation within seconds. His scarred face hardened in a way that Harry had not seen before. With the weary look he interpreted as meaning that this was just yet another awful thing to add to the terrible things Moody had seen, Moody turned to Harry.

“Come along, Potter,” he said in a lower, gentler voice than usual. “You come along back with me; I’ll take you back to Headquarters. You go along and see the Medi-Witch over there for treatment,” he added, gesturing at a huge mess of people who had arrived whilst Harry hadn’t been paying attention.

“I don’t need treatment,” he mumbled in protest, feeling giddy.

“Ridiculous,” growled Moody. “You’re in shock.”

Yes, agreed Harry dizzily. I am. He wandered over to the crowd of Aurors, Medi-Witches and Ministry people in a daze.

Behind him, he heard Moody say, “Let me take that, Albus. I said, let me take that.” There was a brief pause and Harry realised distractedly that Moody was using the same soothing tone on the Headmaster as he had on him. “Come on now. It does no good to stand around holding that.”

A Medi-Witch was shining the light from her wand into his eyes, dazzling him. She healed his cut lip with the touch of her wand and then said something Harry couldn’t register, about wrapping up and staying calm. He saw her eyes drift to his scar and turned away.

“Headquarters, Potter,” Moody growled at his shoulder. “On my broom - I’m afraid you’re going to have to share for the moment.”

As they rose up into the air, Harry felt a cold trickle down his back as Moody discretely cast a Disillusionment Charm on him. He wanted to ask about what had happened to the dead baby, but something was constricting his air passages. They flew up past the Dark Mark, so the light from the grinning skull seemed to be all around him.