Harry Potter: The Marked Man

The sun crept in through the windows of Number Four Privet Drive as a teenage boy grabbed a pillow to shield his tired eyes from the bright rays. He spent the next few minutes trying to fall back asleep. After realizing his attempts were hopeless, he rolled to his side and put his glasses carefully in place. His black hair fell sloppily to his eyes and he pushed it out of the way, his hands brushing the lightning shaped scar on his forehead.

"12:45?!" Harry muttered to himself, stunned. He looked out his window again, amazed that the Dursleys would let him sleep this long. He quickly threw some clothes on, and surveyed himself in the mirror for a moment. A week ago Aunt Petunia had forced him to go shopping with her and Dudley. Though Harry thought at the time it was because they didn't want to leave him with their precious belongings, he was soon to find out it was to buy him clothing. He became appalled as his Aunt, whom had showed him no kindness in years, held clothes up to him, muttering to herself words that Harry couldn't make out. She thrust the heavy bag into Harry's arms after she had paid for them, and didn't mind the shocked tone as he said his thanks. She had said no more to him that day other than to not mention it to his Uncle.

Harry took a deep breath as he shut his wardrobe and quietly walked down the stairs. The atmosphere of the Dursleys' had been most peculiar for the past month. Ever since Mad-Eye Moody had spoken to Uncle Vernon, Harry had noticed that his Uncle had allowed him to do things he hadn't dared even dream of. Harry was able to eat as much as he liked and his Uncle made no sign of disturbance when Harry's school friend Hermione had called.

Harry thought back to Hermione and wondered what she'd say if she knew he hadn't even looked at his OWL scores yet. His birthday was well over a week ago and yet all his birthday presents, along with his OWL scores, sat unopened under his bed. He wrote to his friends every three days, so nobody would get the impression he was mistreated with his only living family left, but he never responded to any of the questions he was asked. He didn't know why, but for the first time in his life he wanted to escape from the world he had grown to know over the past 6 years. Because of this, he only briefly read his friends letters, and spoke distant to them when they called. The more he distanced himself, the less he would miss them.

"Hello," Harry muttered upon entering the kitchen. He saw a glass of milk on the counter top that looked untouched, and took a small sip before the glass was knocked out of his hands. He felt two hands on his shoulders and he was pushed back into the counter.

"Harry," he heard a soft, familiar voice say, and he gasped realizing the kitchen was full of witches and wizards. His stomach did a flip as he saw the familiar faces of Nymphadora Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Mundungus Fletcher, and many others, including the person right in front of him holding onto his shoulders, Remus Lupin.

"What?" Harry asked as Lupin let go of him. Unlike the last time he was with these people in his kitchen, they were all wearing serious faces of concern and fear, rather then a warm welcoming.

"Tonks, you go get all of Harry's belongings and bring them down here at once. Fletcher, collect a bit of the milk in this," Moody said, giving Fletcher a small glass vial. He then pulled out another small container and Harry recognized it as floo powder. He threw a bit into the flames and gave Harry a nudge to go through. Harry did without any questions.

"St. Mungo's Poison ward," Lupin mumbled and Harry repeated him before lost in a whirl of wind and ashes.

He stepped out of the fire and gasped, as his eyes fell upon his Uncle Vernon, who was asleep on a hospital bed, his face pale and a green tinge. He walked over to his Uncle, not aware of other people around him, but distantly hearing another body come from the fire. He stared at his Uncle for a few minutes, questions and theories forming in his head fast enough to give him a migraine. It wasn't until he heard his Aunt's voice that he realized Aunt Petunia and Dudley were right across from him.

"I never thought I'd be back here," she muttered, giving Dudley a small hug. Harry looked at his Aunt in question.

"You were here before?" His Aunt's eyes widened in horror and she gave her husband a pat on the arm.

"Well, the Healer said he'll be released tomorrow, Mrs. Dursley," Tonks said and Harry saw she looked a lot more relaxed then she did in the house. She then turned to Harry, "Your Uncle was poisoned. We don't know how or why ... but it wasn't a normal poison, Harry. It was made from a potion that is very popular among those studying the Dark Arts."

"What are you talking about? They'd have to get inside the house..."

"Your milk is delivered, Harry. We're guessing it was snuck in the unattended glasses. That's why I knocked it out of your hands back at your house," Tonks replied.

"But I did take a sip, and nothing is wrong with me," Harry said as silence fell among everybody for a moment. The next second, though, Harry found himself hauled into a vacant bed next to his uncle, Moody removing the jacket from Harry's arms, and two Healers were rushed inside and started giving him odd tests involving a bright red liquid being put into Harry's ear. He shuddered as it felt like his head was full of boiling water. Though his head was so warm, his arms were freezing and he wished Moody wouldn't have removed his jacket, as the T-shirt wasn't helping his ice-cold arms. He didn't ponder on this long, because suddenly he felt as if he had lost all control over his thoughts, feeling as though he was floating. This went on for over a minute, as he watched the faces around him swim in and out of focus, as though he was watching a bad television program. He was brought back just as suddenly by a knife-sharp pain on his left forearm. He screamed out loud trying to grab his left arm with his right hand, but his right hand would burn every time it became too close. He started rolling around in agony, tears of pain staring to form.

He heard the spectators gasp, Lupin holding Harry's shoulders down so he wouldn't move. Harry raised his head enough to see where the continuing pain was coming from. He stared at his left forearm, and his eyes widened in horror. At first he thought it was the red potion that was slowly dripping down his arm, but he soon realized it was his own blood. As though an invisible hand was drawing upon Harry's own skin with a knife, imprinted on his flesh was a serpent and a skull. For the second time, Harry had become marked.

***

"Shh!" Harry heard someone hiss into the darkness. He slowly opened his eyes and found himself staring at the concerned faces of what seemed to be part of the Weasley family. He reached out a hand to his bedside table to find his glasses, but an elderly Healer was already placing them on his head and forcing him to drink a bright red potion. The room became sharper and Harry realized it wasn't dark at all, the sun was shining in brightly through the windows.

"Harry, dear, how are you?" Mrs. Weasley asked him, smoothing out his bed sheets a bit. He looked around and saw Fred, George, and Ginny all standing there looking half asleep and nervous. "I'll go find Hermione and Ron, they both had just gone to the gift shop." A few minutes of silence passed and the red headed siblings looked around at each other, obviously uncomfortable.

"You should've seen Dumbledore," one of the identical faces muttered. "He came with the news as soon as he heard. He was outraged. George nearly cried, he looked so angry."

"I think you're mistaking me for Ron," the other twin said under his breath. "But all the same, he looked as mad as he did that day the Dementors interrupted Quidditch..."

"It's not a big surprise," Harry said clearly and all three stared at him. "I mean, it's not exactly a secret that people want me dead." Silence fell over the room when Ron and Hermione had entered followed closely by Mrs. Weasley. "Er, where is my Uncle?"

"He was released this morning and now he's back at home resting. Your family had their memories altered, they think that he just got sick from spoiled milk. They'll remember nothing about the poison, don't worry, dear."

"What about the mark..." Harry said slowly, remembering the Dark Mark he now had imprinted on his forearm. Mrs. Weasley responded with a confused look.

"What mark?" Ron asked. He had taken the seat next to Mrs. Weasley. Harry looked around at everyone and saw none of them knew what he was talking about. He suddenly felt his stomach drop. What would they say if he told them he had the sign of a Death Eater imprinted into his flesh?

Luckily he was spared from explaining, as Lupin had entered the room. "Awake, Harry? Good. We should probably get going now, anyway." Harry jumped out of his bed, wanting to leave. His legs felt horribly stiff as he realized he'd spent near 24 hours asleep.

As the rest of the Weasleys piled out, Hermione and Ron stayed behind while Harry put on his sweatshirt.

"How long have you guys been at Grimmauld Place then?" Harry muttered bitterly as they left the room. Hermione and Ron glanced at each other.

"We're not," Hermione said cautiously, clearing her throat. "I was vacationing in South America when Fawkes showed up with a note and I came back immediately ... and Ron has been staying at the Burrow."

"So we'll all be going now?"

"Hermione's coming to stay at the Burrow with us... I don't know when we're going to Grimmauld place," Ron said as they stopped where the other Weasleys stood waiting.

"Why can't I go back to the Burrow?" Harry asked, confused.

"Oh, we don't know, Harry! Really we tried getting it out of the adults but they won't tell us anything, " Hermione told him fearfully. It was obvious that she was afraid he'd be outraged. He nodded, his insides twisting. He didn't want to go to Grimmauld place at all, let alone without his two best friends there. The next minute he was being hugged by Mrs. Weasley, telling him that they'd all see him soon. He nodded good-bye and stepped out of St. Mungos with Lupin.

***

"Harry," Lupin said, holding the front door open for him. "I know this is the last place you want to be ... but it's very important that you are here. You'll find out in a moment..."

Harry couldn't help but notice how much the rooms were sparkling. "Wow, has Kreacher finally decided to work?" he muttered under his breath, immediately regretting his words. He wanted to personally rip off Kreacher's head and stick it on the wall with the other house elves who had previously served the House of Black.

Lupin led the way to the kitchen where Harry saw Mad-Eye, Tonks, Mr. Weasley, and Bill Weasley sitting, obviously awaiting his arrival.

"Harry, sit down, there's something we need to discuss with you," Tonks said in a tone that sounded anything but normal.

"Well, Potter, I'm not one to beat around the bush," Mad-Eye said in his usual hoarse voice. "This is yours."

"Er... what is mine?" Harry asked, looking around at the adults.

"Everything," Mad-Eye responded. Harry looked at him, not knowing what he was talking about.

"As you were Sirius's godson, all of his possessions are left with you. The manor and servant will be yours. Sirius's gold and other possessions are yours," Mr. Weasley said, attempting a smile. Harry sat, stunned, waiting for somebody to admit they were joking.

"I don't want them," Harry said, looking down at the table. He had not yet discussed Sirius's death with anybody. He suddenly felt a longing to be back in his room at the Dursleys, isolated.

"You have to take it, Harry," Bill said grumpily. "If you don't, Kreacher has no master and can spread the Order's secrets."

"Why should I care about the damn Order?" Harry said offensively. "I'm not old enough to be in the Order, and I've escaped Voldemort four times, not including killing Salazar Slytherin's basilisk."

"You should care about the Order because if the Order is successful you won't have to face him again," Mad-Eye groaned.

"Sorry," Harry replied, not sorry in the slightest, "but when it takes 15 years to find out why I don't have parents, you kind of start to lose some faith in things," he muttered.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley said softly, "You have to trust Dumbledore. We all know he has a different way of doing things, but you really have to have faith in him. He knows what he's doing."

"Harry, have you ever heard of the dark wizard Grindelwald?" Mad-Eye asked him.

"Grindelwald... 'Dumbledore defeated the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945.' I've read it on the chocolate frog cards a million times."

"When you went to that muggle school, did you ever read about a man named Hitler?" Tonks asked, and Harry nodded. "Yeah, well while the muggles were fighting each other, so were we. It was a blood fight. Hitler was trying to get rid of those with Jewish blood, and Grindelwald was trying to rid of muggle blood. It was a war that went on for 12 years, Harry. The death toll mounted so high many people lost all hope. Dumbledore never gave up. He fought and defeated him."

"He died?" Harry asked.

"He was kissed," Lupin continued the story. "And then later died of age. Voldemort rose about 15 years after Grindelwald was defeated, and Dumbledore started fighting again. Mind you, he was on the verge of defeating him until the prophecy, which of course you heard all about. After the prophecy was heard, he stepped out of the way and assisted the Longbottoms and your parents with everything they needed. Either you or Neville would be the one to defeat Voldemort. Of course, we later found out you were the marked one. Harry, nothing is for sure, nobody knows the entire true. Without faith, you have nothing."

"Potter," Tonks said, taking a piece of rolled parchment from her bag, "the will. You need to sign it for the house." Harry nodded, not thoroughly convinced.

"Here," Lupin said, pushing the parchment at Harry. As soon as Harry's hand touched it he found it magically unrolling. "It's addressed to you, It's enchanted so only your eyes are able to read it." He nodded, finding it hard to form words as he stared down at the parchment that looked as if it had just been written.

"Harry,

When entering the Order of the Phoenix the second time around, Dumbledore advised it'd be best to have our will updated, as a precaution. I, of course, could not run off in the public talking about legal documents, therefore it was decided I'd write a version of it myself. If anything is ever to happen to me, I leave everything I own in your possession. Sorry, Harry, but this means Grimmauld Place which includes Kreacher and my dear old Mum. Hope you can get rid of them both.

I will not rest peacefully until I know that you will find out everything that you have been denied to know your entire existence. Unfortunately, I do not know when you will be reading this. If you are not of age when you read this, then you must wait until that day comes. However, if you are of age and reading this, you will see the writing does not end here. If you don't see anything, wait until your 17th birthday before looking at this again. It will all be answered.

Love,

Sirius"

Harry looked up at the crowded table, and Tonks pushed a quill and ink towards him. Harry dipped the point in the emerald green ink and signed his name under Sirius's signature. He looked at it sadly for a moment, then rolled the parchment back up, and put it down on the table.