Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Genres:
Drama Action
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:
Published: 04/25/2002
Updated: 06/24/2002
Words: 81,279
Chapters: 30
Hits: 96,527

Harry Potter & The Thousand Mysteries

A. A. Yarrum

Story Summary:
When Harry returns to fifth year, he finds himself faced with a whole lotta problems- Voldemort, puberty, exams, Ron & Hermione to name but a few. A lot of characters enter into his life from his previous shenanigans, There’s a Christmas Ball, OWL exams, Sirius, Lupin, and more!

Chapter 25

Posted:
06/09/2002
Hits:
2,009
Author's Note:
Here we are! Reviews would be greatly appreciated!

25

Avada Kedavera

The mountain cave was cold and draughty. The small fire had been almost immediately extinguished by the wind. The straw and faded newspapers, left by the previous fissure occupant had provided the tired teenager, who was in so many ways mature beyond his years, yet so very child-like, with a bed, upon which to cry himself to tears. The wind, so cruel at piercing flesh and extinguishing flames, had not been able to relieve the cavern of the pervading and most foul smell: rotten chicken.

Heaven was thrift with its glows that night- barely a single star was visible in the velveteen sky, which enveloped the world around the sleeping child.

When Harry awoke the next morning, it took him a moment to realise what was causing him so much pain. When he removed the jagged rock, which had impressed itself on his thigh flesh over night, he was still no closer to working out what was wrong with him.

Then it came flooding back.

He had killed someone.

Harry Potter, the Murderer.

He would be sent to Azkaban for sure now, just like Sirius. Except Sirius had been innocent.

Maybe he could escape, live life as a fugitive, an enemy of the state. Nobody knew he was an animagus. It might work, he thought glumly.

He forced himself to re-live the night he had just experienced. They had been in the field of battle, with the sun’s red blood seeping in behind the shadows as it slowly drowned on the horizon.

Harry and Janney jogged over to where Hermione, Ron, McGonagall and Lupin were standing in a tight circle, advancing on a Death Eater, who was deflecting all their curses.

‘STUPEFY!’ shouted Harry, but the Death Eater deflected it casually.

The group divided into two, with the teachers on one side, and the three students on the other.

Harry was concentrating on hexing the Death Eater, who was also concentrating the efforts of McGonagall, Lupin and Janney, when he heard Hermione scream behind him.

He turned around in time to see Hermione, screeching as a Death Eater stood over Ron, wand pointing down on the flame haired sixteen year old.

A voice began to sound from the face behind the horrific black and red mask.

‘Avada …’

Hermione screamed louder, as the wand pointing towards Ron quivered. Harry acted fast.

Whipping his wand towards the Death Eater, he shouted the only thing he could think of which would stop this terrible thing from happening, faster than the masked figure could.

‘Avada Kedavra!’

A blast of green light that Harry had so feared and so hated since he had heard of it last year, the very incantation that had robbed his parents, and many others, of their lives, burst now from the tip of Harry’s wand, and, accompanied by the fateful rushing sound, swept through the body of the Death Eater who stood over Ron, and whipped the spirit and life from him.

The onslaught of battle that had been surrounding them stopped, and all eyes turned to look at Harry, where he stood, a mere two meters from the body, bereft of life, which now lay, slumped over Ron’s legs. Ron’s face wore an expression of horror, Hermione, who knelt on the ground to his left, was similar, but far more intense. Harry turned to see the faces of his teachers, shocked and ashen faced, and the Death Eaters, behind their hoods, were clearly appalled by this step up in the battle as well.

Harry grabbed a broomstick that was lying at his feet, and jumped on it. Without looking back, he clung to it with all his might, until the point he feared the wood would break, and sped at lightning speed from the scene.

He flew for what seemed like an eternity in the direction from which he guessed he had come. Over muggle villages, rugged glens and valleys, between towering mountains, until he reached a large forest, behind which lay a massive mountain, crowned by a glorious castle, flooded with light, and the only place Harry could think of which resembled home.

But he simply couldn’t face Hogwarts now, even if it were the only home he had. Instead, he settled for the mountain cave where Sirius had resided last year during the Triwizard Tournament.
Inside, the cave was dark, dank and draughty. He tried to light a fire with his wand, but it was whipped away by the wind. Harry settled down on the straw bed, surrounded by the rushing sound of the wind, which haunted his dreams, as the tremor rose through his windpipe and into his throat. He couldn’t help but weep, and he did, long into the night, until he finally got to sleep just as the traveller’s light of a sun dawned over the darkened pasture of the Hogwarts area. If Harry had been awake and looking out across the distance, he would have seen the other combaters returning from their night’s work, all with one thought on the collective mind: How was Harry?

He stretched, and yawned. Trying not to cry as he pushed the memories deep down inside of him, Harry crawled, in his dirty robes, to the mouth of the cave.

The mouth was no more that a craggy crevice in the craggier mountain face, indistinguishable from the rest of the immense hill. Harry blinked in the mid morning sun shine, and wiped the grains of sleep from his eyes.

A chirping behind him made him turn round. As he had been prepared to see a snow bunting or other variety of bird indigenous to the mountainous area, he was understandably quite shocked to see a swan sized bird, perched atop a volcanic rock on it’s golden feet, with vibrant plumage of scarlet, orange and gold.

‘Fawkes,’ he said groggily. ‘Hi.’

The large majestic bird merely chirruped once more in response, and extended its gilded claw to Harry.

Harry untied the parchment scroll that was round around the knobbly leg, and read the familiar, curvy, elaborate writing.

And the phoenix shall the other phoenix follow

(Julius Cramer

Sonnets of a Sorcerer)

Yours, AD

Harry smiled ruefully at the letter. Dumbledore had found him, it seemed. His career as a fugitive was over.

Harry sat on a rock beside Fawkes, and looked into the valley below the mountain on the other side of Hogwarts. It was covered in forest. Occasionally, Harry saw something move among the branches, but nothing of significant interest. Mainly docile creatures known to muggles resided within the forest boundaries. In the distance, yet more mountains rose, turning from yeasty yellow at the base, to lush green, bruised purple and finally peaking in snow, wearing a shawl of cloud.

After about half an hour- Harry wasn’t sure, he wasn’t really up to time management this morning- Fawkes, so like his master, cooed gently once more. Harry sighed, and prepared to transfigure.

Once in his phoenix form, his mind was keener- less sluggish and far more agile. Everything seemed so simple- why was he upset about something that had already happened and couldn’t be changed? He chirruped to Fawkes, who looked completely unsurprised that Harry has transmogrified into a phoenix.

Fawkes leapt into the air and spread his wings. Harry did the same moments later, and followed the Headmaster’s pet down the mountain. The cool mountain air seemed to clear his head- it certainly was refreshing. Fawkes led him over the forest, past Hogsmeade and the gates, flanked, as always, by the statues of the two winged boars, and over the grounds towards the magnificent castle, resplendent in the morn sun shine.

Over the battlements of the Great Hall and into the tower where Dumbledore lived, through the very window that Harry had emerged through the previous night.

The Headmaster was sitting in his study, perusing life with the aide of his Pensive.

‘Aha, Harry,’ he said knowingly, as the two crimson birds glided effortlessly through his office window.

Fawkes, having completed his duty, settled on his brass perch, and shut his eyes for a nap, while Harry landed on the floor, and immediately transfigured.

The transfiguration from phoenix to human, although it seemed physically to take mere milliseconds, in fact was a very gradual process. Harry’s brain did not register the change- it was the magical enzymes within his bloodstream, and consequently Harry’s thought pattern and emotions didn’t change one jot as he changed from one form to another.

‘Professor,’ he said softly.

‘Do sit down, Harry,’ replied Dumbledore, in a voice barely more than a whisper. ‘We have some issues to discuss.’

Harry seated himself nervously in the brown leather chair across from Dumbledore, and looked across the polished wooden desk at him. He was immediately caught by the sheer intensity of emotion which radiated from Dumbledore’s crystalline blue eyes.

‘Harry,’ he said. ‘You know that what happened last night was wrong. I am not going to tell you this. In my opinion, the smallest infant has the innate ability to distinguish right from wrong.

‘But it is the consequences of your actions we must discuss.’

Harry shifted uneasily. He felt like a pariah.

‘Firstly, Harry, it is my duty to inform you that you are off the Counsel of Distress.’

Harry didn’t know how to take this news. He wasn’t particularly upset.

‘You are now on the Counsel of War.’

This came as something more of a shock- this was serious, even Harry, with his limited knowledge of the Ministry could see that.

‘The Minister took the decision this morning.’ Dumbledore continued unabashed by the look of dismay on Harry’s face. ‘It seems that your apprehension in defence against an equally deadly curse has spurred him into agreeing that not only are the Death Eaters regrouping, but they are doing it in a most focused and efficient manner. In other words, they’ve some old wounds and some scores they want to settle.

‘Altogether, fifteen Death Eaters on top of your kill were taken to Ministerial Holding Cells, and are awaiting cross-examination and trial.’

On top of your kill.

That sentence made Harry’s blood run cold. It was true, though, and that’s what pained him the most. He was a murderer, no better than Wormtail, or Lucuis Malfoy, or even Voldemort. He was just a murderer.

‘Are you all right, Harry?’ said Dumbledore softly. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Who was it?’ said Harry, trying not to let the tears stream down his face. ‘Who did I kill?’

The same self loathing that haunted Sirius’ voice resided now in Harry’s.

Dumbledore sighed resignedly.

‘It was Julian Jenkins,’ he said. ‘He was a thirty five year old Death Eater from Hampstead, very magically able and tipped in Death Eater circles to rise to the very top. Both his mother and father are dead- they died when he was nineteen in a muggle aeroplane crash, years before he became a Death Eater. He had no wife, children, family or friends who were not in the ranks of the Death Eaters. By all accounts, he was a dangerous Voldemort devotee.’

‘What’s going to happen to me, then?’ asked Harry. ‘When do I go to Azkaban?’ He didn’t dare hope that there was any hope he wouldn’t go to Azkaban.

‘Well, this is the part that, although devious and cunning on our part, manipulates the system.

‘You see, Julian Jenkins was not a muggle born, so his records exist solely in the magical Ministry. For anyone to be called to trial in the Ministry, there must first be someone to press charges. We have handed our list of everyone who was with us in to the Ministry this morning, and all of us have agreed not to say a word about whom it was that killed Jenkins.

‘Therefore, anyone who was to press charges and give an eyewitness account, would automatically give themselves up as a Death Eater, and nobody is likely in the least to do that.’

‘But what happened when my parents died? Who pressed charges for them?’

‘Well, in cases such as this, the Minister would invite a respected member of the public, such as myself or Molly Weasley, to press charges on behalf of the deceased.’

‘How do you know nobody will do that?’ Harry was frantic now.

‘We don’t,’ said Dumbledore in a placating tone. ‘But it is unlikely. Very unlikely.’

‘So that’s it?’ asked Harry vehemently. ‘I kill someone, and because their parents are dead, I get off Scott free? Not really a very fair system, is it?’

‘It has its advantages,’ said Dumbledore dryly.

The ancient wizard got to his feet, and clapped his hands together.

‘Now, Harry, we had better get you sorted out!

‘The official line is that you were feeling ill and staying in the hospital wing last night. The only people who know are the people who were there, and they will not treat you any differently. Lunch is in the Great Hall in twenty minutes. I suggest you make your way up to Gryffindor Tower and ready yourself.’

‘Professor, I’d rather stay in my dorm today, if…’

‘No, Harry,’ said Dumbledore. ‘Absolutely not. When you made the decision to fire that curse, then it is you who must deal with the consequences. I’m sorry if that seems harsh, but it’s the way life is.’

‘Okay,’ said Harry reluctantly. ‘Just one more thing, Professor.’

‘Of course, Harry,’ said Dumbledore, bowing his head gracefully.

‘Where was Sirius last night?’

Dumbledore chucked. ‘You’re very perceptive Harry. Alas, Sirius and I agreed that it would be imprudent to have him fighting for us publicly until his name has been cleared. As soon as that is out of the road, we’ll have him fighting for us in the battles. But not until then, Harry. That, I think, would be most unwise.’

‘Do you think Sirius will be cleared, then?’ said Harry hopefully.

‘I am quite sure of it,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I am not sure when, but sooner or later, Wormtail will slip up, and when he does, we will be waiting, Damoclean, to snatch him and put him on trial.

‘Anyway, Harry, you’d better get up to Gryffindor Tower before Lunch starts.’ The old man smiled at Harry across his desk.

‘Thank you for being so understanding, Professor.’

‘Not at all, Harry,’ said Dumbledore, smiling as he rose to his feet. ‘I consider myself devoted to the well being of every on of my students.’

Harry didn’t know how to respond to this bizarre statement, so he simply bade the headmaster farewell, and made his way through the castle towards Gryffindor Tower.

‘Baldric,’ he said to the Fat Lady, and she swung forward in her frame to allow the young scholar entry.

The Common Room looked just as it did every other Saturday afternoon. People were milling around, chatting, playing games. Others were writing letters or studying. A few people were leaning out the windows, getting some cool breeze. It was rather hot in the tower that day.

Harry espied Hermione and Ron, revising as usual, in their usual circular table in a corner of the room.

He walked up to them, narrowly missing a magically guided paper plane, thrown by some first years.

‘Hi,’ he said, sitting in the third chair.

‘Hi,’ said Hermione. She looked rather nervous. Ron mumbled greetings as well.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. None of them were very sure of what to say. Harry felt extremely uncomfortable.

Another paper aeroplane whooshed passed Harry, and hit Hermione square between the eyes.

‘Right!’ she said. ‘That’s it! Five points from Gryffindor! Go and play with those things somewhere else!’

The first Years looked at Hermione as if she were the daughter of Beelzebub, before picking up their pile of parchment and heading out the portrait hole.

Hermione turned to Harry.

‘They’ve been doing those things all morning,’ she said.

‘Hermione of course has been very understanding that they want to have fun and has barely said a cross word to them,’ said Ron sarcastically.

‘Hmph!’ said Hermione.

Harry laughed, and so did the other two.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get some lunch.’