The Door to Revelation

~ The Door to Revelation ~

A Harry Potter fan fiction by DiwataMaharlika

~o0o~

Chapter One

Hit and Run

Number four Privet Drive was empty of human beings that warm July day except for one bespectacled teenage boy, who was slumped on the living room couch, staring into space, as was his favourite thing to do that summer.

At first glance, the boy, who was called Harry Potter, looked like your average sullen teenager. He had the look of one who felt misunderstood, miserable, and all alone, as was common to people around his age. But unlike most of his peers, his feelings were not just brought about by hormonal changes. Those who knew him well would know that he had every reason to feel the way he did, for he had just lost his beloved godfather, the wrongly accused escaped convict Sirius Black.

The worst thing was Harry could not quite convince himself that falling through that black veil in the Death Room of the Department of Mysteries was the way Sirius would have wanted to go. His godfather's death had been sudden and even sort of stupid (as much as Harry very much hated to admit it). There was also the disturbing fact that a body had yet to be found, which meant that Sirius could not even have a proper funeral.

And of course, the absence of a body could also mean what Harry didn't dare believe...after all, he and Luna had heard voices beyond the veil...

He shook his head to clear any wishful thinking. He had just recently discovered that to wallow in unlikely possibilities was nothing short of self-destructive;so instead of slipping into another semi-catatonic state of grief tinged with false hopes, he picked up the remote control from the coffee table and turned on the television to watch the morning news.

"Astronomers say that the explosion of Pluto will not affect the sun's gravitational pull on our planet, so any fears that the earth will hurtle across space are unfounded, especially since Pluto is now mysteriously regenerating."

He switched the channel.

"--end of the world is not near. There is no need for hysteria. The Apocalypse is not coming just because Pluto--"

He switched the channel again.

"--for our sins, yes brothers and sisters, we are starting to pay for our many sins. First Pluto, next Earth--"

With a grunt, Harry turned off the television. There was nothing on the news but Pluto, Pluto, Pluto, as had been the case for a few weeks now. He couldn't blame the Muggles, though. Despite all their far-fetched theories about the reasons of the said planet's explosion, they were nowhere near guessing why it happened in the first place. Of course, Harry knew why, but he didn't think the true reason would sit well with the Muggles. How were they supposed to accept the explanation that one Luna Lovegood had blown Pluto up in the face of a Death Eater in the Space Room of the Department of Mysteries weeks ago? It was better to let them believe their science.

He stood up and walked over to the Dursleys' cabinet of VHS tapes, having made an impromptu decision to just watch a movie. He was just about to pull out one of Dudley's old tapes--a comedy about a girl whose stepmum was an alien which Harry deemed asinine enough to temporarily distract him--when he heard a rustle overhead. He looked up and saw a barn owl swooping down towards the top of the television, a copy of The Daily Prophet in its beak. Quickly forgetting about his movie plans and feeling very grateful that the Dursleys were out to attend one of Dudley's boxing matches, he reached out to retrieve the paper, fumbled through his pocket for the Knut he had set aside earlier, and placed it in the leather pouch on the owl's leg. The owl flew out of the living room window as Harry unfurled The Daily Prophet.

What he saw on the front page made his jaw drop in shock. His dead godfather's face was looking up at him from two huge pictures, laid out side by side. The one on the left showed a very handsome, pre-Azkaban Sirius, who was smiling roguishly. The picture on the right showed the Sirius that Harry had known--pale, gaunt, and jaded. Across the top of the page, the headline read:

The Story of an Unsung Hero:

SIRIUS BLACK POSTHUMOUSLY DECLARED INNOCENT OF THE CRIMES HE WAS CONVICTED FOR

PETER PETTIGREW THE REAL CRIMINAL

The hand that was holding the paper began to shake violently as Harry felt an unwelcome rage well up inside him. He knew he was supposed to be happy about the news, but he couldn't be, not when he knew that the declaration of Sirius' innocence wasn't of any use now that he was dead. It was tragically too late.

Harry forced himself to read the article, which contained nothing new for him, since had already known the real story behind Sirius's so-called crimes for ages. He turned to the second page, and this time, he saw Wormtail's grubby face taking up half the space; the word WANTED was written across the top of the picture in huge, bold letters. Underneath it, the caption read:

A hundred-thousand (100,000) Galleon reward will be given to anyone who can give relevant information that will lead to Peter Pettigrew's arrest. See more information about this man's possible whereabouts and affiliations on page 6.

Harry' rage turned to hatred. He would love to be the one to get Wormtail, and it was not because of the money, but sweet revenge. At the moment, all he wanted was to tear apart Wormtail's limbs in the slowest and most excruciating way possible; and that would not be enough, because that kind of pain was just a tiny part of what Sirius had suffered....

Harry's vicious fantasy was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Feeling greatly annoyed, he walked over towards the wall where the machine was hanging and grabbed the receiver.

"Hello?" he said, more gruffly than he had intended.

"Harry? Harry! It's me, Hermione! How are you doing over there?" Hermione's voice said in one breath.

"Oh, hi. I'm fine, yeah. Why'd you call? Any news? Did somebody die again? Who is it this time? Lupin? Dumbledore? Ron?"

"That's not funny," Hermione said sharply. "Anyway, everyone's fine. I just called to say that you'll be--"

"Hey mate! Hang in there!" Ron's voice cut through.

"Wait a second, Harry," Hermione said hurriedly. She must have covered the mouthpiece because the sound was muffled when she said, "Ron, you can talk to him if you want, right after I'm through!"

"Oh, c'mon, I'm just saying hi to Harry--"

"You can do that without having to shout into my ear, you dolt!"

"I didn't shout into your ear! I shouted into that--what d'you call that? Mouthpiece?"

"No, you didn't! You bellowed into my ear!"

"WILL YOU RESUME YOUR FIGHTING AFTER WE BOTH HANG UP?" Harry shouted, in the hope of being heard.

There was a total silence at the other end of the line. For a moment, he thought the connection had been cut for some reason, but then Hermione spoke again.

"Sorry about that. Anyway, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted--" she said the word 'rudely' very loudly-- "I just called to say that you'll--"

"Wait, wait, what's Ron doing at your house?" Harry asked. "You're calling from your house, aren't you?"

Hermione let out an irritated sigh before saying, "We're not at my house. I'm staying at the Burrow and calling from a pay phone. We're in the Mugglepart of Ottery St. Catchpole. Anyway, as I was saying--"

"Why are you staying at the Burrow? Why can't I be there?"

"You know why you can't be here. You're the one who told us that you have to stay there with your relatives at least once a year so that the protection spells can continue working. I still have a copy of that letter--oh, by the way, sending that owl wasn't a very good idea. We never know who might be intercepting owls, there might be some of Voldemort's--Ron, really, it's just a name--spies running around or --"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, I've been here for two weeks now. That's more than enough. I am not staying here all summer, and if you lot won't fetch me..."

"Don't you dare, Harry! Why, are the Dursleys maltreating you? There's no need to deny it if they are, because Moody and the rest of the Order will know all about it. So are they maltreating you or not?" Hermione demanded.

"Of course not. They're too scared of Moody, you know. They still can't forget what he said to them at King's Cross two weeks ago," Harry explained. "But I hate being cooped up here, especially when you and Ron are together. I could use some good company, and I hate to wait until the end of summer--"

"If you would just let me finish what I intended to say in the first place, then you'll know that you don't have to wait until the end of summer before you have good company, as you say," Hermione said in a way that made Harry sure that she was gritting her teeth at that very moment.

"Yeah, what were you saying earlier, anyway?"

"I was saying that you'll be see--"

"Hermione, c'mon, make it quick, I wanna talk to Harry," said Ron in the background.

"AAAAAAAAAAAARGH! " Hermione screamed so loudly that Harry had to hold the receiver at arm's length for a few seconds to avoid having his eardrums shattered.

"Okay, okay, hold your horses! Take your time!" he heard Ron say in an alarmed tone.

When Hermione spoke again, she sounded like someone who wasn't likely to scream any time soon, much to Harry's relief. "I called to tell you that you'll be seeing us again really soon, probably next week, so don't bother running away to come here, all right? It'll save everyone a lot of trouble. There, finally I was able to say it without you two cutting me off!"

"So I'm going to the Burrow? I'm not going to be cooped up here all alone?"

"Well...no to the first and yes to the second. I can't tell you the details yet, just wait and see."

"If you're not going to tell me anything, then you shouldn't have bothered calling," Harry said, not bothering to hide his impatience.

"Harry, you don't have too long to wait, you know. You'll see us soon, Ron and me, and the others too..."

"What others?" Harry demanded.

"Oh, um, did I just say that?"

"Yes you did!"

"Um.... Oh, Harry, I'm really sorry. I'm not supposed to tell for security reasons--both yours and ours. We're not supposed to tell you a single thing about it, in the first place. We just did because you might try to run away--"

"Why did I even bother to ask, when I know that no one will give me the answers I need to know," Harry said tonelessly, his hand tightening around the phone. It was the whole of last year all over again, when everyone kept secrets from him--secrets that had he known, Sirius would still be alive. Why was he always kept in the dark? He had thought that after Sirius's death, everyone would know better than to keep secrets from him. But obviously, he had thought wrong.

"It's not like that," Hermione said, correctly interpreting his silence.

"Well," said Harry, changing the subject to a less touchy topic after an awkward pause--"I can't possibly run away, because I bet Dumbledore sent someone to follow me, just like he did last year. Who's following me now?"

"I don't have any idea," Hermione said too defensively to be entirely plausible. "We got a copy of The Daily Prophet earlier. Mr. Weasley got it hot off the printing press. Have you gotten yours already?" she asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject. Harry decided not to push it, since she and everyone else, seemed very keen on keeping things from him.

"Yeah, I just got it," he finally said. Then he suddenly realized, with much discomfort, where the conversation was heading.

"Well...well, I'm so glad that the Ministry believed Dumbledore. At least, Sirius's name is cleared. That's what he would've wanted, right?"

Something inside Harry just snapped. "You're wrong! What Sirius would've wanted was not to die so soon, that's what!" He didn't mean to bite off Hermione's head again, but the way she spoke was so casual, as if they were just talking about what Sirius would want for Christmas.

"Sorry. I just thought it was good news, with everything that's going on," she said flatly. "I just thought that it was at least something that we should be grateful for."

Harry felt the guilt build up. He had resolved to keep his temper in check,especially when dealing with his friends. His resolution was barely a couple of weeks old and yet he was already breaking it in a big way.

"No, look, I'm sorry," he said. "It's not that I'm ungrateful, it's just that--it's just that--well, you know what I mean. Anyway, I'm sorry."

Hermione sighed as if she was very tired. "Forget it. It's all right, really. I understand--well, I try to, at least. Anyway, Ron wants to talk to you." She seemed to have covered the mouthpiece again when she called out "Ron, it's your turn!" in a muffled voice.

"Hey mate," Ron said a few moments later. "Living with the Muggles still a pain in the you-know-what?"

"You said it," Harry replied. "Ron, keep your voice down when you answer me, in case Hermione's near--who did Dumbledore send to follow me now? Hermione won't tell me, but I think I should know, right?"

Ron's voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "Damn right. It's Kingsley Shacklebolt. But don't bother looking for him. He's excellent in Human Transfiguration, so he's probably posing as a flowerpot or something. "

Harry's respect for Kingsley doubled, as he had always heard that Human Transfiguration was difficult. However, he had pressing questions in his mind, and asking about Kingsley's Transfiguration skills was not among them.

"Ron, when will I leave for the Burrow? I know that you know something."

"Er, Harry. Yeah, I know something, but--but I can't tell."

"Oh c'mon, you told me about Kingsley!" Harry said impatiently.

"That's different."

"Yeah, is that it? How so?"

"Because Dumbledore told us not to tell!Geez, mate, you should know the drill by now. We would've told you if we were allowed!" Ron said, his voice rising a little.

"Okay, fine! I should know the drill by now, right! I should be used to seeing people die in front of me, yeah!" Harry exclaimed sarcastically. At the back his mind, he knew that he was being unreasonable, but there was no stopping his mouth at the moment.

"I'm going to let that one pass because you've got a right to be in a bad mood," Ron said. Harry heard him sigh in what seemed to be resignation. "But don't push it, because we're affected, too, and we're just trying to help out."

Harry pursed his lips, feeling the guilt and anger rise side by side. With a huge effort, he managed to get this temper under control, and let the guilt overwhelm him. "Sorry," he finally said.

"Just hang in there, all right?"

"All right."

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by an urgent beeping noise, informing them that the pay phone was about to cut them off unless Ron inserted more money.

"Oh damn, I don't have any Muggle money on me. Wait a sec."

"All right."

Harry heard Ron call Hermione to ask for a few coins, but she said that she didn't have any loose change on her, either.

"Okay, I only have a few seconds left here. Anyway, I promise you'll be seeing us soon. Really soon."

"All right."

"Take care, Harry! Watch out for the O.W.L. results!" Hermione said from somewhere in the background. "Bye!"

"All right."

"Bye mate," Ron said.

"All right," Harry answered for the fifth time, sounding horribly like a robot, and feeling like one. When Ron hung up, Harry heard the dull dial tone which seemed to reverberate against his ear.

He held on to the receiver for a minute or so, holding it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He waited for his suppressed anger to stop struggling to break to the surface. Finally, it ebbed away.

Harry placed the receiver back onto its cradle and stared down at the hand that had held it. It was empty. Empty, just like he was feeling, and just like his life might as well be.

It had been this way ever since he got back to Privet Drive--each time he got his temper under control, he would always feel a great void inside him afterwards, as if his life held no meaning.

That might as well be true, as he came to think of it. No matter what he did, his life would lead to just three things--killing, being killed, or both. He had already given the situation much thought. He had decided that he wouldn't mind committing murder if it was Voldemort he was going to kill; in fact, he would just love to do so. But what if he died in the process? And worse, what if Voldemort got to him first?

Harry couldn't help thinking that he was no more than a sacrificial lamb; after all, what did losing his life mean compared to the millions of others that could be saved?

Now feeling very depressed, he grabbed the house keys hanging from beside the phone and set out for the door. He was going to take a stroll. Even though he preferred taking walks at night time, the fresh morning air would do him a lot of good.

Harry locked the door behind him and stepped into the warm sunshine. He immediately felt a bit better. He made to put the keys in his pocket when he realized that he wasn't wearing jeans, but pyjamas. He considered going back inside again to change clothes, but decided to take a walk as he was. People who were already outside would simply gossip about how much of a hooligan he was, and that was among the least of his worries.

Sure enough, when Harry passed Number Seven, Mrs. What's-Her-Name, who was watering her flower bed, gave him a disdainful look. Harry scowled at her, and watched in grim satisfaction as she took a couple of steps back, as if she found him rather scary.

He walked on, throwing a sneer every now and then at the few people who stared at him reproachfully as he passed. He was, after all, supposedly attending St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. He might as well show the neighbours what they expected of him just for the hell of it.

Before he knew it, he had reached the corner onto Magnolia Crescent; he turned and strolled idly. Halfway along, he passed the alleyway in which Dudley and him had been cornered by the Dementors, and where he had first seen Sirius. Harry felt a powerful ache inside of him, this always happened whenever he encountered something that reminded him of his godfather.

He crossed Magnolia Crescent, turned into Magnolia Road, and walked towards the play park. As he got nearer, he saw that there were people at the park already. Most of them were kids playing and joggers taking a rest.

He entered through the park gate and watched the children on the swings and the slides. They looked so carefree. Seeing them looking innocent and happy made him feel quite old, even though he knew that at almost-sixteen, he was still young. But he had stopped feeling young ever since Cedric died, and the feeling had been made worse by Sirius's death.

Harry sat on one of the benches. He had been sitting for only a few seconds when a little blonde girl of about four years approached him.

"Mister, you're still in your p'jam's!" she cried out, her big blue eyes round with surprise.

He smiled at her and looked down at his clothes. "Yeah, I still am. I forgot to change, I guess."

Just then, a thirty-something man, also blond, walked towards them.

"Oh there you are, sweetie!" said the man as he picked up the girl with one arm. Turning to Harry, he smiled and said, "Sorry if my daughter's bothering you."

Harry shook his head. "Oh no, she's adorable."

The little girl flung her arms around her father's neck. "Daddy, would you buy me a Mice Olly?"

The man laughed heartily. "It's Ice Lolly, sweetie, not Mice Olly." He looked at her daughter as if contemplating, then said, "Okay, I'll buy you one. You've been a very good girl the whole week. I think even Mummy would approve of an Ice Lolly. It's just for today, though."

The little girl kissed her father on the cheek, causing the man to laugh again. He turned once again to Harry. "We need to get going. See you around," he said.

Harry nodded, and the father-daughter tandem walked away. As he watched them go, he couldn't help feeling envious of the little girl. She had a loving father who would buy her Ice Lollies and quite possibly everything she asked for, while he, Harry, just lost the closest thing to a father he had ever known....

He stood up abruptly. He wanted to get out of there, away from the laughing kids and their adoring parents. He bolted out of the park and ambled along. He was hardly aware of the route he was taking; he just vaguely registered in his mind that he was now in Rhodora Avenue, which was already far from Privet Drive. He was walking blindly, completely unaware of his surroundings, until he heard someone shout, "LOOK OUT, BOY!!!"

Harry's head whipped to the right. He saw something large and black looming ahead, approaching him at a very fast rate...

And then he knew nothing more.