The Light of Day

The Light of Day

Chapter 1

A Changed World

As he sat on the bulky, rigid bed that night, his head began hurting. In the past, he always thought of this as a sign of his scar hurting, thus meaning Voldemort was near or up to some evil deeds. But this time, the pain was inside his head, spreading from one side of his brain to another. Each time he tried to think, other thoughts flowed his head, virtually scrambling his mind.

"I will not tell any of this to Hermione or Ron," he said softly. He knew if he even uttered a word about his head hurting, they would rush him to St. Mungo's before he could say, "Wronski Feint."

He laid down on the bed, pulling the pillow over his face, trying to clear his mind of all thoughts.

But one thought stuck to his mind like an indented insignia.

Draco Malfoy, Minister of Magic.

"It just can't be," he said, a little bit too loud.

"What did you say Harry?" Ron's voice came from the bed beside his.

"Nothing Ron. I didn't say anything."

"All right then Harry. Call me if you need me, okay?" A few moments later and both were sound asleep.

"Didn't you hear Harry, Draco Malfoy is the Minister of Magic!"

Malfoy.

Malfoy.

Malfoy.

"You'll join your father soon, Potter!"

Harry awoke with a start, drops of sweat dropping down from his face like a torrent. He immediately crawled out of bed and ran to the bedroom compartment window. Outside, he could see the ship slowly moving to the dock, the moon as bright and round as a Galleon and small drops of rain making pit pat noises on the roof.

Why was he so worried about this? It was absolutely nothing, just a fact. Was he jealous of Malfoy? No, it was something else, but what was it?

He casted his eyes on Ron, who was sound asleep, a peaceful expression on his face. Why couldn't he be like that?

Because you were born that way Potter. You'll never be peaceful.

And who had caused that?

Voldemort.

Was that the only person? Oh yeah, of course.

Malfoy.

Was that the problem? Did he think Malfoy, of all people, made him miserable?

Harry walked back to his bed and lay down again, once more clearing his mind of all thoughts.

Again, it did not work. In the little cubicles of his mind, old thoughts, memories of ten years ago, seemed to be somehow crawling out. Memories that were not at all pleasant.

One of these memories was of the last time he ever saw Draco Malfoy.

He was running in the cold rain, beside him was Neville Longbottom, who had met him in a muggle café a few hours back to discuss business of the DARV (Dumbledore's Army of the Resistance of Voldemort), but had rushed away suddenly when they suspected a minion of the Dark Lord was tracking them.

Past the dark alleyways they went, spurting through the corners of Abberwest, Miltonson, Demmings, Harry couldn't remember them all... He turned back and saw nothing but kept running. Neville had a look on his face that would only disappear if they were as far away from their foes as possible.

It was not long before Neville ran out of breath, so they stopped and scanned their surroundings. "Well Harry, I think we just lost them," he said, panting. He turned around several times, and then stopped, a small grin appearing on his chubby face. The grin survived for less then a quarter of a minute, as it was gone as two dark figures approached them.

"Well, Potter and Longbottom, we finally found you. Thought you could outrun us, eh? When will you learn Potter, that a slug can easily beat Longbottom hands down?" The first figure moved closer and Harry squinted-- and immediately realized that it was none other than Draco Malfoy, a sneer on his ghastly face, a face so evil that it could only be matched by Voldemort himself.

Harry, however, was not intimidated. "You should know Malfoy," he shouted, for the rain was almost deafening, "you were a slug at the end of the fifth year, transformed by the members of the DARV. You and those big apes of yours, Crabbe and Goyle. I suppose one of them is here too?"

"Do I look like a big ape Harry?" The other figure came closer, her face now clear to Harry and Neville.

Fleur...

"What are you doing here Fleur?" Neville screamed. "You're supposed to be in a meeting-- uh, sorry Harry, for blurting, but why is she here?"

"Surprised Potter?" Malfoy drawled, his grin growing bigger, "I suppose you don't understand much of anything right now. If I say Silver Phoenix, would that help?"

Silver Phoenix!

"That's the person that we heard about Harry!" Neville whispered. "So she's the one leading all the revolts against Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. She's the one that killed Abbott, Davis and all those witches and wizards!"

"But Fleur," Harry said, shaking his head from side to side, "what about Ron? What about the DARV? Is that nothing to you?"

"Oh shut up Potter, you and your stupid club." Malfoy said with a sneer, "The Dark Lord will lead his revolt, and you will be sorry for all this time you've wasted!" The words seemed to have spit out like venom, and the rain quivered and soon was gone.

"No time to waste Draco," Fleur told him, having been quiet the whole time, "he told us to be back by midnight. We mustn't miss our deadline."

But Harry had reacted quicker. He managed to pull out his wand and aim it straight at Malfoy. "Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted.

Immediately, Draco stiffened and fell onto the black pavement, rigid as a statue.

Neville responded next, pulling out his wand at Fleur, but she was too swift for him. The next moment, the spell "Crucio!" rang out all over the streets and Neville was on the floor, writhing with pain.

"Neville!" Harry cried and bended down, examing his friend. "Let him go, Fleur! Let him go!"

Fleur smiled devilishly. She twirled her wand flamboyantly around, then pointed it straight at Harry. "Stupefy!"

A flash of red light came out of her wand and headed straight for Harry, but before it could touch him, Neville Longbottom threw himself forward, the spell hitting him with a full blast. He slumped onto the floor, stunned.

"NO!"

"Yes, Harry," Fleur whispered. She twisted her wand around again several times and walked towards him. "You ready to die?"

"Shut up Fleur," Harry growled, "you dirty, lying traitor."

"Who said I wasn't? Anyway, no one knows, except you and I--

"And me."

Harry took his menacing glare off Fleur and looked to the person just behind her. There, wand raised, eyes locked in intense concentration was Severus Snape.

"Professor!" Harry knew he had to react fast. "Fleur, she's Silver Phoenix!"

In a flash, Fleur aimed her wand at Snape. "Imperi--

"Oh no you don't, Expelliarmus!"

The wand shot right out of her hand and onto the muddy pavement, where Harry scrambled to get it.

Snape, realizing his chance, aimed the wand at the traitor. "Ortia Vineita!"

Sturdy, thick pieces of ropes sprang out of the Potion Master's wand and curled themselves around the girl's body. Snape waved his wand and the ropes tightened, causing Fleur to fall onto the floor, struggling helplessly to get out.

As Harry jumped to his feet, he thought he had heard a whoosh somewhere... He had wondered what in the world it could be. He soon found out as six or seven figures appeared, their arrival signaled by the swish of their cloaks. They were all hooded, armed with wands at their sides.

"Death eaters, they're here," Harry whispered, raising his own wand.

"Potter, leave this instant," Snape muttered gruffly. Harry looked, and saw a glint of fear in his professor's eyes. No wizard, no matter how skilled, could take on six death eaters one-handed.

"No Professor, I'm staying right here."

"Brave of you, boy, staying to help the traitor." The tallest death eater, probably the ringleader, came closer to the group and pulled down his hood.

"Nott. You dare show your face?" Snape growled. "Not a good member of the Ministry, are you now?"

"Silly Severus," Nott said, a twisted smile on his face, which was imprinted with numerous scars, "thought you should know that by now. Well, I guess I was wrong. Not as smart as you look, are you? Well, if you can say a vulture with its head dipped in Manticore's blood is smart..."

"No living organism can survive if it even picks up the smell of Manticore blood, except that Manticore itself," Harry spoke up. Well, he thought, at least Hagrid had taught the class something that I could actually use.

"Think you're wise, don't you Potter? Well, let's see if you can stand up against this!"

But before the death eater had time to cast his spell, Snape had raised his wand. "Ortia Vineita!"

They were going to win, defeat those death eaters. Snape was going to do it--

"Reflecto!"

It had seemed like Nott had looked at the spell and then laugh at it The green, thick ropes that had came from Snape's wand had reverted back and curled itself around the potion master. He went limp and fell to the ground, to surprise to speak.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

A hooded death eater had stepped up and emitted the spell upon Harry. If the seventeen year old boy hadn't quickly dodged, he would've been just as helpless as Snape.

Harry knew it was time to fight, and fight alone. "Stupefy!"

The spell had struck a death eater, but not Nott, who Harry had been aiming for.

"Reverso!" Nott screamed into the night. A flash of orange and purple light struck Harry in the chest. He flew back and struck against a light post.

"I'm sorry Dumbledore," he gasped, streams of blood flowing down his head, "I failed you. I failed the DARV." He tried to move, but his body did not let him.

The mob of now five death eaters approached him, four hooded, only Nott revealing his repulsive, fierce face.

"Well Potter," said the death eater, "I can't wait till I go back to my master. Have to tell him that I defeated the infamous Harry Potter, you know. That's quite an achievement, eh boys?"

The other four did not answer, moving around limitedly, as if scared of their ringleader.

Nott surveyed Harry, who was limp on the ground, his face covered in blood.

"Well, since I was the one that wounded you, I should be the one to finish you off. But... I'm not. Yes, I know, casting the killing curse on the one who formerly defeated the Dark Lord himself is actually quite tempting, but I have my reasons." He turned to the four other members, a shrewd smile appearing on his scarred face. They all turned away, not wanting to look at Nott. This seemed to make the death eater happier. "Veniro!" This was apparently the opposite of the Reverso spell, as the other four minions were pulled to Nott out of their will.

"Don't you dare go away from me, you fools!" Nott barked. "I'll make sure next time that I won't be stuck with a couple of rookies who are too scared to even squish a flobberworm! But this is the chance for one of you to prove that you are a death eater. This is your time boys! One of you will be honored above all of us, as the man who killed Harry Potter!"

The four hooded figures shivered and Harry, hurting as he was, could see their knees shaking.

"But who shall it be? Yes, yes... I know who." Nott's ferocious eyes directed their glance at the death eater who stood farthest away from him. He walked slowly to that hooded stature, his footsteps thundering on the wet pavement.

The death eater he had looked at quaked with fear. He tried to move back, but it seemed as if his feet were nailed to the ground. He let out a horrifying scream that echoed against the walls of the houses and taverns, so shrill that Harry's eardrums felt as if they were going to burst into oblivion.

"Yes, scream all you want," Nott said icily, "but you know this is your chance. You know you have waited for it. They have not accepted you, but now they will. Take your wand out and kill him. Or better yet..." A sly grin appeared on Nott's face and he walked nearer and nearer to Harry, until the wounded man could see the scars on the death eater's ear. Nott bent down and removed something from Harry's hands. What was it? No!

It was his wand.

Harry tried to grab it back, but he was in no condition to. He had to watch helplessly as Nott went back to the death eaters, Harry's wand in hand.

He handed the wand to the minion he had chosen. "Take it and kill Harry Potter, boy. You told me you have waited so long, so do it! Kill him with his own wand!"

The death eater now looked confident. Clutching the wand, he walked a few feet forward and aimed the wand at Harry Potter.

No, don't do it...

"Kill him already! Show your loyalty to the Dark Lord!" Nott screamed. The other death eaters huddled together, muttering under their breaths.

The one with the wand hesitated.

"KILL HIM!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"I WON'T DIE!"

"What, what is it?"

Harry awoke with a start, his whole body hot and humid. He realized that sometime during the night he had fallen out of bed and ended on the ground.

Ron, who had also awakened, ran over by Harry and knelt to stare worryingly at his friend. "Harry, what happened? What's wrong? Oh no, has he attacked?"

"Nobody attacked. It was, er... nothing. Just a nightma-- I mean dream" Harry said, laying a hand on his forehead. His mind was spinning out of control, and the terrible pain in his head had returned. He tried to tell himself it was just a dream.

But it did happen, Potter. All of it happened.

"A very scary dream," Ron remarked. "You were yelling so loud. Lucky that the rooms are soundproof, or everyone on the ship would've heard you. Anyway, what did you dream about? Dementors?"

"Er, yeah, dementors," Harry agreed, glad that Ron had supplied the lie for him without knowing it. But a guilty feeling started to form in his stomach.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I can handle it." The ex-prisoner stared out into the dock, which they were approaching rapidly.

"Anything else you want to tell me Harry?"

Harry started to speak, then hesitated. He couldn't tell Ron, not right now. "No," he said casually, "nothing under the sun."

Hermione had appeared, leading Harry and Ron out of the ship and onto the dock. The moment that the light bursted into his eyes, the first speck of light that he had witnessed since entering Azkaban ten long years ago, he fell back, saved by Ron from crashing onto the floor. It seemed almost too bright, seemingly blinding him at first sight. He let out a shout of joy as he flung his arms out, embracing the light. Finally, he was freed from the chamber of darkness. A smile erupted onto his face and he turned to his two best friends.

Hermione beamed. "Welcome home Harry."

When the small celebration was over, the three continued down the dock, of which most inhabitants were wizards. Harry glanced around, still a bit dazed, trying to find a familiar face, hoping to see Molly Weasley or anybody else, but he saw nobody familiar.

"No one here?" he asked Hermione.

"Of course there is," she answered him, pointing to a tall wizard in the back.

It was Arthur Weasley, his ministry cloak old and grungy, the few hairs that were left on his head had all turned gray. His face was lined with wrinkles that Harry knew had nothing to do with old age, but of stress and weariness. When he saw the three, a smile appeared on his face that seemed to erase all his wrinkles, making him look like the Arthur of old.

"Harry! How long has it been?"

"Ten years dad," Ron answered, "and he's okay too."

"Well Ron," Mr. Weasley said, "not sore with Harry anymore?"

"Well--

"In a way, I'm glad you did, but like I told you countless times, he killed Fleur..."

Harry was shocked. Mr. Weasley was acting very strange.

"Sir--

"You're the first to forgive him," Mr. Weasley interrupted, "George still got the sores."

"What sores?" Harry questioned.

"Oh, Fleur's father, very fine man he is, was about to donate a very generous sum of money to support George's ailing joke shop business, but after the death of his daughter, he avoided us," answered Mr. Weasley, a very solemn expression on his face. "Not that I'm saying I hate you or anything Harry. I forgive you for everything you did. I even scheduled a conference where you'll get a chance to say sorry to everybody, so don't worry."

Before Harry could answer, three men dressed in black robes with a large insignia on the back with a large, green dragon igniting its mighty flames and the letters MPPF approached them, pushing the other people aside, not caring about anything that stood in their way.

"Oh no, it's them," Ron muttered, "figured they would come."

One of these wizards, who Harry distinctly remember from somewhere spoke loudly, "Mr. Potter, the Grand Minister, Mr. Draco Malfoy has invited you to come to his castle for a conference."

"He doesn't want to go," Ron retorted, just as loud.

The wizard scowled, and Harry knew exactly that it was Dean Thomas, a fellow Gryffindor of theirs in school. He was also a former member of the DARV.

But what does he have to do with this?

"I'm very, very sorry," Dean answered, "but you have misunderstood me. Perhaps I should restate what I said. I meant, Mr. Draco Malfoy, the Grand Minister of Magic, commander of all warlocks, has ordered Mr. Harry Potter to come to his castle for a conference--

"I'll come with him," Ron spoke confidently.

"Alone," finished Dean, the glint of humorous boyhood now forever gone from his eyes. The two other wizards grabbed Harry by the arms and led him to a car, which looked as ordinary as all the other cars on the streets.

Harry sat in the back, accompanied by a grim looking man who avoided his gaze. He stared back at Ron, Hermione and Mr. Weasley. As the car started, he saw Ron trying to run after it, Hermione looking as jumpy and worried as she did a decade back and Mr. Weasley, who had an amused smile on his face.

It was a few minutes later that Harry had the courage to talk. "So, when will I get back to my friends?"

Dean Thomas, who sat next to the driver, looked back at him, his face revealing nothing. Harry expected an answer, but got none. A few moments later, Harry asked the question again.

"That is up to the minister."