Harry Potter and the Third Party

Rated: M

Harry Potter & the Third Party

Chapter 1: Last night On Privet Drive

Harry looked up at the ceiling blurry-eyed from tears he had been crying for the past hour. He was glad to be alone. Ever since he had returned to Number Four Privet Drive, he had given the Dursleys fair warning to stay out of his way that summer, or he would have Mad-Eye Moody come and lay a dozen curses on them. He didn't need the constant ridicule that he had suffered from them ever since he could remember. Now, he was in mourning for his godfather, Sirius Black, who had been killed by Bellatrix Lestrange in the battle at the Ministry of Magic, at the end of the last school year.

Harry had been full of rage lately. It wasn't fair that he had had to endure all that had happened to him in his life. It wasn't fair he'd had to suffer all the pain. He reflected on all the harsh things that had happened to him since his first year. The Dark Lord Voldemort killed his parents when Harry was just a baby. Then, having to live with a family who hated him until he was eleven, and then having to return to this house every summer. It wasn't fair that he constantly had to return here. Harry was tired of constantly being the subject of abuse of his cousin Dudley for all these years.

And now his godfather, Sirius Black, was dead. Once his name had been cleared of killing Peter Pettigrew, the plan had been to have Harry come and live with him. He would have escaped the Dursleys forever. But now Sirius was dead, and not even a ghost Harry could talk to. And it was all Harry's fault. At one time, Sirius had been going to kill Pettigrew, who had faked his own death after betraying Harry's parents and framing Sirius. But Harry had asked him to spare Pettigrew's life. He had been merciful, and it had cost Sirius, and Cedric Diggory, their lives. And these weak moments had also caused the return of Lord Voldemort.

Peter Pettigrew had revived the Dark Lord, and Voldemort was gathering an army to take over the wizarding world. Now Voldemort, who was responsible for the deaths of so many people that Harry cared about, was going to try and kill him. Dumbledore had said as much. He had said that in the prophecy, it was either Voldemort or Harry that was to die, to finish the war one way or the other. Harry had been having a constant nightmare every night and was full of hate and rage. He knew that sometimes the Dark Lord could read his thoughts. He concentrated on Voldemort very hard and thought, "Well it isn't going to be me who's going to die! Do you hear me, you bastard! I'm going to kill you! I'll make you suffer!"

Suddenly Harry felt a sharp pain in his head, a searing wave of anger and hate emanating from his scar.

"Ahhhhhhh!" he screamed. His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor. Lord Voldemort had heard him, all right. The door flew open and Uncle Vernon looked into the room, his face pale and his eyes wide.

"Wh......what is it! What's going on!" he asked. This was not his concern finally emerging; this was his fear of Harry.

"Nnn... nothing... go away," said Harry.

"But, but... you..."

"I said get out!" Harry roared as the agonizing pain in his scar caused him to clutch the carpet.

"Sor... sorry," replied Uncle Vernon in a horrified voice, and closed the door quickly. The Dursleys had noticed that Harry's attitude was such that he seemed to be ready to explode at any time, and had tried at all costs to stay out of his way. Fortunately for them, he spent most of his time in his bedroom. The pain in his head was subsiding and his breathing was returning to normal.

"That's right, you bastard, you go and think about how I'm going to kill you off. Think of how I stopped you every time. You couldn't even stop me when I was a baby. And soon... soon I'm going to be the one who comes for you. Soon I'll have my revenge!" Harry felt a ripple of fear through his scar, but it didn't come from himself. Harry knew that somewhere, Voldemort was not feeling too confident.

A smirk crossed Harry's face. Yes, this sense of other people's fear was quite a good feeling indeed.

Harry's position at Number Four Privet Drive had changed. He was no longer the object of abuse now, but someone to be feared. He didn't mind the change at all. In fact, he reveled in it. It was nice to be the one in charge for a change--Harry liked the fear that his power brought. He could make the Dursleys dance if he wanted them to. He didn't even have to use magic; just the threat of it was enough to make their teeth rattle. Harry got up, went to his aunt and uncle's room, and banged on the door.

"What! What is it?" came the frightened voices from the bedroom.

Harry opened the door and poked his head in. "I just wanted to remind you to make Dudley have my eggs and toast ready by seven. And don't forget to have the living room cleared," Harry stated in a confident tone.

Uncle Vernon's face started to turn beet red. "Now see here, young man! If you think that-"

"Be careful!" shouted Harry, cutting him off mid sentence. His voice grew sinister. "I'd hate to tell my friends you mistreated me. Mad-Eye Moody can get very... unpredictable when he's upset." He smirked.

Uncle Vernon's face went pale again. "No! I mean... of course Dudley will have everything ready for you at seven on the dot."

Harry smiled mischievously "Good... well that's that then, good night."

"Good night" they said in quivering unison.

As Harry walked back to his room, he thought, "Look at them, cowering! Serves 'em right, the stupid dolts!"

Of course, Harry knew the members of the Order of the Phoenix wouldn't approve of the way he now treated the Dursleys. In fact, if they ever found out, he would most likely get into serious trouble. But the Dursleys didn't know that, and what they didn't know couldn't hurt him. The Order members had threatened the Dursleys. They had to treat Harry well over the summer, or else the Order would come and have a not-too-friendly chat with them.

Still, they hadn't intended to have Harry taking overt advantage of the family. But Harry didn't care. He had just suffered a tremendous loss, and was feeling a tremendous thirst to lash out at whoever was near. It felt appropriate that it should be his former tormentors, the Dursleys.

Harry looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand; it read ten forty PM. He lay down on his bed and reflected on the past few weeks. Tomorrow would be a day of great sadness. Tomorrow Harry would put to rest the body of Sirius Black, his godfather, and the only real parent he had ever known. Tomorrow, at long last, Sirius would have a proper funeral, a proper send off deserving of a hero. Harry would have a long day, and it would be time for his hatred to turn to grief. ...Of a hero Harry thought as he drifted off to sleep.