Harry Potter and the Dark Lord's Heir

Chapter One

In which our hero returns home and thinks of memories past

It was the first day of summer holiday and already, no more than one hour upon Harry's return to Privet Drive, had Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia gotten into a row about, how they so nicely put it, the freak, Harry Potter. Uncle Vernon was having the usual summer argument over Harry and how he should be thrown out. Usually Aunt Petunia had agreed but the idea was never put into affect. But this summer it had been different. Harry sat in his cupboard under the stairs, (which he was quickly outgrowing) running over the events of the day.

*~* Flashback *~*

"Petunia, I will not have this freak live under our roof any longer. He is out of here this summer that is that!" Vernon had screamed at his wife

"No, he is staying and I will not hear another word from you!" Petunia had retorted back much louder than Vernon.

Uncle Vernon, Dudley, and Harry had stood there with their mouths agape with what she had just said. All three of them were expecting the exact opposite answer from her, especially Harry. Vernon spun on his heel and turned to face Harry. His face was purple with anger.

"Your aunt might favor you, but I will make sure this is the worst summer you've ever had. Do you hear me boy." He hoarsely whispered. "And if you use so much as an ounce of - of magic, so help you god, boy."

In all of Harry's years of living with the Dursley's Harry had never seen his uncle so angry, and he had never seen so much truth behind a single threat. Vernon spoke again.

"I'll make your life so miserably horrible that you'd wish you had gotten blown up with your good-for-nothing parents."

Harry who usually fumed at a remark like that was actually sacred. At this moment he'd rather face all the dementors and deatheaters Voldemort could throw at him then spend this summer with his uncle.

*~* End flashback *~*

Harry now sat in cupboard under the stairs, which he had been locked in since the argument this afternoon. Uncle Vernon told him, he was not to eat anything for a week. Harry thought otherwise. Harry had discovered he could do quite a bit of wandless magic, which unlike wand magic, was not reported to the Ministry of Magic, unless it was used in great excess. Harry chuckled to himself as he remembered Aunt Marge. That was wandless magic on a grand scale. But more subtle charms and spells were not detected. But sneaking out for food could wait till his stockpile of food from both the trolley on the train and any assorted things that were saved from Hogsmeade trips ran out. For now he would just sleep. Or at least try too, he knew he would be plagued by nightmares all summer long. Nightmares of Cedric, nightmares of his godfather, Sirius Black, nightmares of everything he had come to face since his first year of Hogwarts. He lay in bed thinking how peacefully the rest of the household could sleep, how they took that blessing for granted. Harry himself received only a couple of hours of sleep each week, if he was lucky. He laid back and listened to the siren call of sleep and dreams. Finally he gave into it and claimed defeat.

Harry woke up in shaking in a cold sweat. The nightmare had been like the others. This time it was Sirius. He was falling through that black veil in the hall of mysteries. He was yelling to Harry to help him. His arms out stretched as he fell through, calling Harry's name for help. Harry had tried running towards him. But it was no use, no mater how fast he ran, Sirius just got farther away. And always Harry reached the veil just as Sirius slipped through, just when it was too late.

The loss of his godfather had been hard on Harry. It took him weeks to get over it. To admit to the people around him that it was not his fault. But he couldn't help but feel guilty and responsible. He hadn't been able to save Cedric either. It was hard to lose your one hope of escape from the Dursley's. All Harry had wanted to do was catch Wormtail and clear Sirius' name so he could leave the Dursley's and have as close to a normal life as possible. But he realized he would never be normal. He was just not capable of such a thing. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, would never be normal. He would always be, a freak, a tool, being used to defeat Voldemort, nothing more. No one saw Harry Potter, the-boy-who-never-knew-love, they only saw the-boy-who-lived, their answer to ridding the world of evil.