- Rating:
- PG
- House:
- The Dark Arts
- Characters:
- Harry Potter Remus Lupin Sirius Black
- Genres:
- Action Drama
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
- Stats:
-
Published: 06/28/2003Updated: 07/21/2003Words: 2,584Chapters: 3Hits: 1,684
Arch of Death
LanaMariah
- Story Summary:
- After the events of Harry's fifth year, he must come to terms with his loss and what he now knows his future to hold. Unbeknownst to him, however, on the night his godfather fell, Harry was lied to: Sirius has yet to truly fall through the veil. He survived.
Chapter 01
- Posted:
- 07/05/2003
- Hits:
- 451
- Author's Note:
- I'm surprised that this story is so well-received so far. I wasn't satisfied with OotP, and therefore decided to go and write my own last two HP books--this is what it'll be, all of my theories wrapped into a nice, neat little bow, with all the romance and action and angst rolled together, a la HP style. I have a huge theory that could quite easily work into fan fiction that I have yet to see done before, so I'm going to have to work on that one. I apologize for the chapters being so short, but I write in chunks.
Arch of Death - Chapter One
Harry was awoken the next morning by a loud pounding coming from his bedroom door. Surprised by not only his rude awakening, but that the Dursleys hadn’t once taken the time to wake him up properly. He swung his legs out of bed quickly, all but forgetting the dream he had had only hours previous, and went to unlock his bedroom door.
As he pulled the wooden frame open, he was shocked as to who was on the other side. Instead of porky Uncle Vernon or horse-faced Aunt Petunia, he was greeted by the lined and aged face of a member of the Order of the Phoenix: Remus Lupin.
“Remus!” he exclaimed, throwing the door open and stepping forward to greet the werewolf. He immediately stepped back, however, when he realized how troubled Remus looked. His hair seemed to be even grayer than it had been only a few weeks earlier, when he, Alastor Moody and Nymphadora Tonks (who absolutely hated her given name and refused to answer to anything but Tonks) had seen him off with the Dursleys at King’s Cross Station, just outside the barrier of Platform 9¾. His face seemed to have accumulated even more lines, yet his eyes were bright and alert.
“Good morning, Harry,” Remus said in a tired voice. He forced a tight smile and stepped into the boy’s room. “How soon can you be packed and ready to go?”
Harry stared at the name for a moment, unable to believe his ears. “Excuse me?”
Remus’ eyes twinkled. “How soon can you be ready to go, Harry?”
“Err—” Harry blinked. “Now, I suppose.”
The werewolf chuckled heavily. “I thought you might feel that way. Dumbledore’s waiting for us back at—” He dropped his voice. “—headquarters, along with the rest of the gang. I have a portkey.”
Harry’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Just—just let me get my trunk really quick, I haven’t unpacked much and—”
Quick as a flash, Harry darted around his room, picking up the various objects he had removed from his trunk in the weeks previous. There weren’t many, as his possession were few and far between, but that didn’t seem to bother him. He quickly changed out of his pajamas after Remus politely turned away, stowed his wand inside of his jeans, and closed Hedwig’s empty cage.
“Ready,” he said in a breathless voice. Remus turned around, a weary smile upon his pale features.
“All right then,” he said in a deep growl. “Let me just find the portkey—”
He began to dig around in his pockets, of which where were many, while Harry simply stood there and waited. All at once, a dozen different questions hit him, and he felt he must ask at least one.
“Remus?” he said in a careful voice. “Why are you here so soon?”
Remus looked up from his searching. “There have been…events…that you need to know about, and as the only one who we know can face Voldemort—”
“You mean Dumbledore’s told everyone about that prophecy?” Harry blurted out, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.
“What? Oh, yes, of course,” Remus said distractedly as he continued to search his pockets. Finally, with a triumph sound coming from the back of his throat, he pulled out a shining purple marble attached to a piece of leather cord.
Harry didn’t know how to receive this new piece of information. Ever since the Ministry of Magic had finally accepted Dumbledore’s word on Voldemort’s return, he had been able to think of nothing else but what the world would say when they found out for sure that he, a sixteen year old boy, was the only one strong enough to bring down Voldemort. He knew that if he were any part of that vast majority, he would run for the hills much as the giants did and never return.
Remus held out the purple marble for him to take. Harry held the smooth sphere in his hand with a sort of wonder, and when Remus touched the polished surface with his own fingertips, he felt a familiar jerk behind his navel, and he, Remus, and his trunk were flying through blackness, until finally felt himself land on a hard surface with a thud.
Harry opened his eyes and adjusted his glasses, which had gone askew, and immediately surveyed his surroundings. His heart dropped to his knees as he took in the familiar musty curtains, the troll leg, and worst of all, the hall of decapitated house elf heads, a hall that now boasted one more trophy for its cause.
He was back at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.
Harry was awoken the next morning by a loud pounding coming from his bedroom door. Surprised by not only his rude awakening, but that the Dursleys hadn’t once taken the time to wake him up properly. He swung his legs out of bed quickly, all but forgetting the dream he had had only hours previous, and went to unlock his bedroom door.
As he pulled the wooden frame open, he was shocked as to who was on the other side. Instead of porky Uncle Vernon or horse-faced Aunt Petunia, he was greeted by the lined and aged face of a member of the Order of the Phoenix: Remus Lupin.
“Remus!” he exclaimed, throwing the door open and stepping forward to greet the werewolf. He immediately stepped back, however, when he realized how troubled Remus looked. His hair seemed to be even grayer than it had been only a few weeks earlier, when he, Alastor Moody and Nymphadora Tonks (who absolutely hated her given name and refused to answer to anything but Tonks) had seen him off with the Dursleys at King’s Cross Station, just outside the barrier of Platform 9¾. His face seemed to have accumulated even more lines, yet his eyes were bright and alert.
“Good morning, Harry,” Remus said in a tired voice. He forced a tight smile and stepped into the boy’s room. “How soon can you be packed and ready to go?”
Harry stared at the name for a moment, unable to believe his ears. “Excuse me?”
Remus’ eyes twinkled. “How soon can you be ready to go, Harry?”
“Err—” Harry blinked. “Now, I suppose.”
The werewolf chuckled heavily. “I thought you might feel that way. Dumbledore’s waiting for us back at—” He dropped his voice. “—headquarters, along with the rest of the gang. I have a portkey.”
Harry’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Just—just let me get my trunk really quick, I haven’t unpacked much and—”
Quick as a flash, Harry darted around his room, picking up the various objects he had removed from his trunk in the weeks previous. There weren’t many, as his possession were few and far between, but that didn’t seem to bother him. He quickly changed out of his pajamas after Remus politely turned away, stowed his wand inside of his jeans, and closed Hedwig’s empty cage.
“Ready,” he said in a breathless voice. Remus turned around, a weary smile upon his pale features.
“All right then,” he said in a deep growl. “Let me just find the portkey—”
He began to dig around in his pockets, of which where were many, while Harry simply stood there and waited. All at once, a dozen different questions hit him, and he felt he must ask at least one.
“Remus?” he said in a careful voice. “Why are you here so soon?”
Remus looked up from his searching. “There have been…events…that you need to know about, and as the only one who we know can face Voldemort—”
“You mean Dumbledore’s told everyone about that prophecy?” Harry blurted out, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.
“What? Oh, yes, of course,” Remus said distractedly as he continued to search his pockets. Finally, with a triumph sound coming from the back of his throat, he pulled out a shining purple marble attached to a piece of leather cord.
Harry didn’t know how to receive this new piece of information. Ever since the Ministry of Magic had finally accepted Dumbledore’s word on Voldemort’s return, he had been able to think of nothing else but what the world would say when they found out for sure that he, a sixteen year old boy, was the only one strong enough to bring down Voldemort. He knew that if he were any part of that vast majority, he would run for the hills much as the giants did and never return.
Remus held out the purple marble for him to take. Harry held the smooth sphere in his hand with a sort of wonder, and when Remus touched the polished surface with his own fingertips, he felt a familiar jerk behind his navel, and he, Remus, and his trunk were flying through blackness, until finally felt himself land on a hard surface with a thud.
Harry opened his eyes and adjusted his glasses, which had gone askew, and immediately surveyed his surroundings. His heart dropped to his knees as he took in the familiar musty curtains, the troll leg, and worst of all, the hall of decapitated house elf heads, a hall that now boasted one more trophy for its cause.
He was back at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.