Harry Potter and the Rise of the Dark Lord

Chapter 1: Greetings from the Order

"Sirius! No!"

The boy who had just seconds ago screamed out in his sleep sat bolt upright in his bed, covered in a cold sweat. His left hand made the familiar motion up to his head to rub his lightning bolt scar, while his right hand fumbled around on his bedside table for his glasses. When he found his glasses, he realized that the scar was not hurting, as he had come to expect from his other nightmares. This nightmare didn't have anything to do with the Dark Lord, it was just a simple nightmare.

He remembered the dream. He had had it every night since he had come back from school. He watched, helpless, as he relived the moment when his godfather, and the only real father figure he had ever known, arched gracefully behind that veil and disappeared. Forever. And it was all that sick woman's fault. Harry Potter would not forget about taking his revenge on Bellatrix Lestrange anytime soon.

He glanced over at the clock on the bedside table, and found that it was very early in the morning. And then, a second later, he realized that it was his birthday. He was sixteen now. Not that birthdays really mattered to him, they had never really been much of an event around the Dursley household.

The Dursleys. It was lucky they were away on vacation, or they would have barged into his room demanding to know why he had woken them up in the middle of the night by screaming. They had no sympathy at all. They had made his life horrible. He had had no real ray of hope until that night, five years ago, when a giant named Hagrid had knocked down the door of the hut on the rock and told him that he, Harry Potter, was a wizard. Now, looking back on the people he had lost, the things he had seen, and the people that he would lose yet in this war, he almost wished that Hagrid had never come to call that rainy night. Almost.

He got up from his bed and went over to look in the mirror that was hung on his wall. The person staring back at him looked disheveled. His hair was stuck up in odd places, and his eyes were bloodshot from the sleep he had been missing due to his nightmares. Then there was the scar. His connection with the most evil dark wizard in how long? Harry didn't know. He just knew that it was both blessing and curse, but to him it usually seemed more of a curse. He reached up to rub it, wondering what Voldemort was doing right now. Not that it could be anything good. With an exhausted sigh, he went back to lie down on his bed.

Harry looked back on the summer. He had always thought that the summer was supposed to be a time of fun. Not anymore. He wished that the month between now and the first day back at Hogwarts would get lost somewhere so that he could go back tomorrow. "That's not gonna happen, though, is it," he muttered darkly to himself. He figured that once he went back to school, he would be so tired from studying, Quidditch, and everything else that he had to do that he might finally be able to cope with Sirius's death and stop having nightmares about him every time he slept. He wondered if he would even be allowed to play Quidditch anymore. He had been given a lifetime ban under that foul Umbridge woman, but he hoped that it would be lifted this year now that she was no longer around. Looking down at his hand, he could still see the scar he had gotten from writing, "I must not tell lies," over and over with a quill that carved the words into his hand. He sincerely hoped that ! Dumbledore would find a better Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year.

The other bad thing about summer for Harry was that he could not speak to his friends. Sure, they wrote him a lot, but little of the writing had anything to do with what he wanted to know: what Voldemort was doing. They had told him that Dumbledore had forced them yet again to not say anything in their letters, lest they go astray. This would've angered him greatly, but they also put in their letters that they would tell him everything that they knew the moment that he showed up to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. He had asked him in his letters several times when he could come join them, but they just replied that Dumbledore wouldn't give them any answer other than soon. So, with an almost reserved depression, he waited.

He had been getting all the news, both magical and muggle, that he could lay his hands on, and it looked like now that people knew Voldemort was back, he wasn't bothering much with secrecy anymore. He had begun attacking families. The Daily Prophet had reported that the Dark Mark had been flown above several houses recently, and the muggle newspapers had reported several mysterious deaths, that had been attributed to natural causes, as the victims were images of health, yet lifeless. Harry knew that this was because the curse that had killed them did nothing to the body but wipe the life away from it. Harry knew that these attacks were only a small part of what Voldemort was doing right now. He would also be trying to rebuild his army.

He was slightly angry that Dumbledore had stuck him in number 4 Privet Drive yet again, but this time he knew what the purpose was, and because of this he was less angry in general than he had been at the same time last year. But he was also very much more depressed. He didn't know how he was going to deal with his friends this year. He desperately wanted to distance himself from them, so that they wouldn't be hurt, but he knew that they would figure out what he was trying to do and squash his plans. He also became depressed when he thought back to the meeting with Dumbledore after the fight with the ministry. The old man had admitted to his mistakes. This had broken part of Harry's trust in Dumbledore as being invincible. He realized that Dumbledore could not fight all his battles, and could not protect him as fully as Harry thought, and this idea scared him to no end. He had caught himself many times over the summer telling himself that while Dumbledore may not ! be perfect, he was about as close as you could get to it. Harry finally decided that he needed to go back to trusting Dumbledore as he had before. Everyone made mistakes, he rationalized, and in all the time he had known Dumbledore, the old wizard had only made one.

Harry had been depressed all summer, and he had taken to the streets of Little Whinging after his cousin found him sulking in his room. He knew that it was dangerous to be outside his house, but he couldn't handle the taunts of his cousin, Dudley. He had found a nice park nearby where he could sit and think over the events of last year in peace, without someone rudely interrupting his reverie.

These times were not good for Harry. He would inevitably think of Sirius. He was haunted by the image of Sirius falling through that veil in his waking time, and he had nightmares about it most nights. Then he would think of how it was bad enough that he had to think about it while he slept, not to mention thinking about it while he was awake as well. Then he would remember how he had felt the same way the year before when Cedric had died. Two deaths, both that he could have stopped, had he had constant vigilance.

The pain from Cedric's death had been, for the most part, healed by time. But Sirius's death was still raw and fresh, and it seemed like it had ripped open the wound left by Cedric. It was like two people had died at the same time. He couldn't help but feel guilty, even though he knew, deep down, that he really shouldn't blame himself.

That was how he passed the first two months of his summer. He would have a nightmare about Sirius, then he would try to find a place to be on his own to think about the events that had occurred at the Ministry of Magic. Added into that would be all the news of Voldemort's attacks. Harry was beginning to feel like he was just a shell. He had lived with depression and misery for the last two months, and he wasn't really sure that he remembered what it felt like to be happy.

Harry got up out of bed, and walked over to his desk. He wasn't going to be able to get any more sleep until he had firmly driven thoughts of Sirius from his mind, and the only thing that he could do at this time in the morning was homework. He looked over the essays that his teachers had set him to write. He looked past 'Describe the properties of Werewolf's blood and its use in the Wolfsbane potion,' and he also decided not to try to tackle, 'Discuss the differences between an Animagus transformation and a wizard who has transfigured himself to look like an animal, and describe the seven identifying signs that give the wizard away.' Harry finally settled on working on a Charms essay that he was saving for a night just like this. The question was, 'Describe the theory and history behind locomotion charms.'

Harry worked on the essay for an hour, and then decided that it was about time he got back to sleep. He put his ink and quill away, and left the essay on his desk to dry. He then got back into his bed, and tried to think of the good things that had happened this summer.

Always amusing, of course, were the times when he caught Dudley alone in an alley, or even better, Dudley with his gang in an alley. Whenever this situation came up, Harry always saw Dudley's eyes flit down to where he knew his wand must be. Dudley couldn't do anything to Harry, or he would get jinxed. Harry loved watching his cousin's frustration.

Harry also had fun with his guards. He knew they were there, watching him on Dumbledore's orders. He knew that they would always be near him, and he made a game of trying to find them. Tonks was always the easiest, she would either trip on something, or knock something over, and he would be able to find her. Whenever Harry was able to find the people who had been set to tail him, he would usually just sit at the park and talk with them. It really wasn't so bad, being followed. It was a horrible invasion of his privacy, but after his first initial rage at finding Tonks following him the third day of the summer, he realized that he really didn't have much to hide.

Harry would have kept on rethinking the events of the summer and his plans for the coming year, but a loud crash downstairs immediately put him into defensive mode. He prayed in the back of his mind that this was just something like last year when the Order had come to bring him to headquarters. Then the little voice in his head reminded him that he had received no owls with any plans to remove him from the Dursleys house, and that there was almost no way that it could be the order. He grabbed his wand and his invisibility cloak out from beneath his pillow, and slowly crept downstairs while putting on the cloak, skipping the fourth step which had developed a loud squeak. As he got down into the kitchen, he noticed three figures that looked familiar to him.

"Tonks! Be careful!" the person on the left breathed.

"Sorry," responded the one in the middle, who must have been Tonks. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the intruders were friends, not Death Eaters.

"Merlin, you guys scared me," whispered Harry, taking off the Invisibility Cloak and stuffing his wand into the pocket of his jeans. He grinned as the three of them jumped, and Tonks accidentally knocked a mug off the counter. Harry walked over to the light switch and flipped it, immediately closing his eyes as the bright light stung them. When he opened his eyes again, he looked at the group standing in the kitchen. On the left was Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks and Mad Eye Moody stood behind him.

"Well, you scared us too, kid," Mad Eye growled. The Auror looked even worse than he usually did, and he saw several scars that he was quite sure hadn't been there before. He began rummaging around in his cloak, and withdrew a chocolate frog card with Dumbledore's picture on it. "Tonks, can you go with Harry to get his trunk?"

"Sure," Tonks said, as she made her way towards the stairs. Harry followed her. She seemed to remember where his room was from last year, and as she went in she grinned. "Just how I remember it," she said happily. Today her hair was an electric blue, and hung down to her shoulders. "Well, we better get this done. Pack!" she said as she waved her wand, and once again Harry watched in amazement as his belongings flew into his trunk, this time with the socks folding themselves. "I just got the hang of that little trick a few weeks ago. Cool, isn't it?" She then walked over to Hedwig's cage, and set it on top of the trunk. Raising her wand again, she said, "Locomotor Trunk!" and without Harry being able to get a word in edgewise, his trunk was floating down the stairs back to where Moody and Lupin were waiting.

Lupin took a deep breath, and then said, "Harry, we've come to take you back to Headquarters. I'm sorry we didn't owl you to tell you we were coming, but we couldn't risk anyone knowing we were going to be here. Now that Fudge knows that Voldemort is back, Dumbledore has a lot more sway at the ministry. He managed to let us set up a portkey to take you back to headquarters. The portkey is this card," he motioned at the card in Moody's outstretched hand. "Grab hold, and we'll leave."

Harry, Tonks, and Lupin all grabbed the card, while Lupin and Moody held the trunk between them. Harry carried Hedwig's cage, with a slightly ruffled Hedwig in it, and Lupin looked at his watch. "Get ready now. Three, two, one," and before he had finished saying one, Harry felt the by now all too familiar jerk behind his navel, and he was suddenly swept forward in a rush of wind and color.

Harry felt his feet set down hard on the floor, but he managed to stay upright. He took a quick look around, and he realized that he was in the kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place. He looked to the table, and saw Mrs. Weasley sitting there, asleep. Tonks had begun to wobble on re-entry, and she soon lost her balance and fell. She tried to hold onto the counter to steady herself, but she only managed to knock a skillet of the counter, which fell with a loud crash, waking Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh! You're here! I was waiting up for you to come. I thought you might want some hot chocolate before you went to sleep." She stood up, walked over to Harry, and gave him a hug. Then she went over to the stove, and took pot of water that had just begun to boil off of it. She poured it evenly into five mugs, and then stirred some chocolate into each. She handed one to Tonks, Lupin, Moody, Harry, and then took the last one for herself. They all sat down at the table and drank in silence. Harry glanced at the three people that had given him the best birthday present he'd ever had. That was what he was coming to consider their rescue mission. To him, it was a great birthday present.

He had noticed earlier that Moody seemed to be sporting a few new scars on his face, and now he was wondering how he had gotten them. Lupin, though his clothes were even shabbier than the last time he had seen him, looked clean and more healthy than usual. Harry wondered at this for a while, and then decided that Snape might be making Wolfsbane potion for him. He was about to begin his appraisal of Tonks when Mrs. Weasley stood up and said, "I think Harry should be getting to sleep. Come on dear, I'll walk with you up to your room." And with that, she levitated Harry's trunk in front of her, and headed off towards the stairs.

"Good night, you three. Thanks for coming to get me," he said to the two Aurors and his former teacher before he followed Mrs. Weasley up the stairs to the room he had slept in last summer. A whispered "Alohomora," and they went into the room trying not to wake up Ron. Harry looked down at his friend, his face peacefully blank. He turned to Mrs. Weasley, and after saying, "Good night," she left the room, Harry locking the door behind her. He put on his pajamas, and crawled into his bed silently. He thought about the last few hours, and how his birthday might not be so bad after all. His last thought before he fell asleep was that he would get to see his friends tomorrow. He'd be able to talk to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. An image of Ginny popped into his head in the moment before he fell asleep, and he didn't even have a chance to wonder why his stomach had just flopped over before his mind went blissfully blank.