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HP stories following Canon including OotP >> The Epoch of the War by Zerotactics

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Chapter One: The New Prophecy

“Boy! Get down here, NOW!” Uncle Vernon yelled, not caring that it was only seven in the morning.

Harry, accustomed to his uncle’s yelling, got up quietly and put some pants on.

Harry had been home hardly a week, and he had already done more chores than anyone had done over the entire school year. His uncle had made him clean the entire house top to bottom, wash the outside of the house, do the lawns twice, tend to the gardens, and even build a shed in the backyard. Each morning since he had been home, Harry had been awoken by his uncle’s loud voice and bombarded with chores before he was given any food. All Harry really wanted to do was sit in his room and wallow in despair. The guilt was eating him alive.

‘It’s all my fault Sirius is dead. All my fault,’ he kept telling himself. In the end he was forced to walk around and do his chores, but he was more like a zombie than anything else. Not that any of his relatives paid attention to him, but even they noticed he was just going through the motions of life. He ate only enough to keep on going, and he only spoke to find out what he was supposed to do.

He hated himself for rushing off to the Department of Mysteries instead of listening to Hermione’s advice and thinking it through. He hated that she was right, but most of all he hated himself for not thinking of using the mirror Sirius had given him. It could all have been avoided if he had just remembered to use the mirror. In his rage he had thrown it into his trunk, where it now lay broken.

On top of his godfather’s death, he now had the fate of the wizarding world on his shoulders because of some stupid prophecy that was made almost sixteen years ago. ‘Why do I have to be the one to save everyone? Why can’t someone else have the pressure for once? I’m always in the spotlight, ever since I rejoined the bloody wizarding world when I was eleven,’ he cursed. He had been looked at with awe for something he could not even remember.

‘This prophecy is the reason Lord Voldemort is after me, it’s the reason my godfather is dead, and most of all it’s the reason his parents are dead,’ he scowled at the thought that ran through his mind. He felt his eyes begin to grow hot and damp with the thoughts of the life he could have had without the prophecy or Voldemort.

He should have known better, and he definitely should not have let his friends talk him in to letting them follow him. ‘They could have been killed, they had gotten hurt. Ginny had broke her ankle, Ron had been attacked by a brain, Neville’s wand is now broken and both he and Luna had been injured during the fight. They all may have been minor injuries, but that was because we were all been lucky, extremely lucky,’ Harry recollected morosely. He vowed to himself to never let his friends follow him into danger again. Thinking back to it, Harry realized one of the only reasons they had not been seriously injured was because he had held the prophecy, and that was the one thing the Death Eaters had wanted.

His thoughts turned back to the prophecy again and they somehow ended up on Dumbledore. The last time he had spoken to the old wizard with the half-moon spectacles, he had destroyed almost everything in the man’s office. He felt somewhat guilty for it, but he still could not shake the feeling that Dumbledore should have told him about the prophecy earlier. The Department of Mysteries could have been avoided. Everything in his life revolved around Dumbledore’s choices. He had never asked Harry how he felt about his decisions; he had just done what he felt was best.

‘Dumbledore never realized he made my life a living hell by just sticking me with the Dursleys,’ Harry thought, mentally cursing Dumbledore for his benign view of the world. Harry had now come up with two ways that the whole catastrophe could have been avoided, and there was still one more. Occlumency… He should have learned it, but Snape had to be his usually git self, a horrible teacher. Once again this was one of Dumbledore’s choices.

‘Why couldn’t Dumbledore have taught me, himself? Surely Dumbledore knew Occlumency better than Snape,’ Harry wondered. Three different ways the Department of Mysteries could have been avoided, and two of them revolved around Dumbledore. True, Harry could have put more effort into Occlumency, but Snape hated him and Harry hated Snape. Dumbledore should have known it would not work out.

His thoughts turned once again, this time to the past school year. It had been the worst school year ever for him, and he had always looked forward to being at Hogwarts. Snape had been worse than ever and the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had been horrible. Dolores Umbridge had been the bane of Harry’s entire school year. She had called him a liar and a lunatic when he tried to tell everyone that Voldemort had returned. She claimed that they would not need to learn proper Defense, so they had just read from the lame-excuse-for-a-Defensive-Theory book she had chosen for their lessons. To top it off he now had another scar. The words ‘I must not tell lies’ were permanently etched into his right hand. She had even attempted to force information out of him. When Dumbledore had disappeared, she had even threatened him with Veritaserum and the Cruciatus Curse. All in all his school year had been a right mess. The one bright spot had been the DA, or Dumbledore’s Army. ‘Until Um-bitch had come along and ruined it,’ he thought, cursing Umbridge for being such an evil bitch. He was rudely shaken from his thoughts by his Uncle’s loud voice.

“BOY! NOW!” his uncle repeated even louder, jolting Harry completely from his thoughts and misery.

Harry started down the stairs while buttoning his jeans. “Yes?” Harry asked dully, reaching the living room.

“Boy, I need this house clean as a whistle by dinner time. By that time your Aunt Marge should be here.”

Hearing that his aunt, whom he had blown up on her previous visit, would be joining them made his anger spark; it was quickly replaced, however, with a sense of foreboding. If he got angry at her again he would surely be expelled for underage magic. It would be the third time he had done underage magic. He had already done it twice, and a third letter would most likely mean expulsion and he could not risk that.

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied lifelessly. “But you’d better warn her not to insult my parents or my friends. I will not allow her to insult them,” he added with as much force as he could muster, though it was not all that much.

“Empty threats boy, you and I both know that your freak school will expel you if you do any of that unnatural stuff.”

“Fine, I’ll just have to introduce her to my lunatic godfather. I’m sure you remember him. He hasn’t killed anyone in weeks, I bet he would be glad to meet Aunt Marge,” Harry lied. He hated talking about his godfather like that, but his uncle did not know he was dead. He turned and headed into the sitting room to start cleaning. He did not want his uncle to see his eyes becoming moist with tears.

~*~

By about two o’clock, well before dinnertime, Harry had finished his chores and finally gotten something to eat. Even though it was not much, the turkey and cheese sandwich had tasted great after having no food for the whole day. He went upstairs thinking about the recurring nightmare he had been having since shortly after Sirius had died. It was always the same.

It would start out in the Department of Mysteries and Harry would watch, unable to move, as one by one his friends would walk through the veil. Voldemort would be standing to the side with Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy, cackling evilly. First Sirius then Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and then Cedric would walk through it. He was not sure why Cedric was in his nightmare, but he figured it was because he had watched him die over a year ago, during the Triwizard Tournament.

Once they had all gone through the veil, they would come back as ghosts and walk up to Harry one by one telling him it was his fault they were dead. They would tell him that he should have saved them, and that he could have done something, he should have done something. The last people to tell him this were always his parents. His father would have his arm around his mother and would glare at Harry while his mother cried. He would then proceed to tell him how disappointed they were in him and that it was his fault they died, they had wanted to live to grow old together, but Harry had caused their death. This scared Harry the most. It was the one thing he could not bear to think about. He had always wanted his parents to be proud of him, even if they could not tell him so.

In the back of his brain Harry knew none of this was true, but his nightmare was always the same. That thought had been pushed to farthest region of his mind. He wanted more than anything to tell someone about it, but Sirius would be the only one he would want to talk to about this sort of thing. If he told Ron or Hermione, neither would have the reaction he wanted. Hermione would probably come up with some sort of answer from a book about his recurring nightmare trying to tell him something, and that he should talk to Dumbledore about it. Ron would tell him he’s probably going crazy, but then they would have a big laugh about it and forget about. Yet his nightmare would still come back. Ron might be concerned for a while, but he would not have an answer, he might even say he should go to Dumbledore or his dad, Arthur Weasley.

“BOY! Get down here!” his uncle yelled, again shaking Harry from his miserable thoughts.

“I’m coming, Uncle Vernon,” Harry yelled. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed going over his nightmare. His uncle had already left and come back with his aunt.

Harry walked slowly down the stairs, just to stop in front of Marge. Thankfully her dog had stayed home this time.

“Oh… You again, I would have thought you would be gone by now. Still haven’t tossed him out on his ass yet, Vernon?” Marge asked, looking from Harry to Vernon.

“No, I would, but when we sent him to St. Brutus’ I had to sign a form saying that I wouldn’t let him out into the world alone… Dangerous boy you know.”

“Well, it’s for the best I suppose. We don’t need another drunk like his dad was. Either that or he will probably go off killing people like all those other lunatics.”

“Don’t. Talk. About. My. Father!” Harry said forcefully, through gritted teeth, anger radiating out of him.

“How ‘bout a drink Marge, brandy okay?” Vernon said, sensing the danger towards his sister’s well being.

The night ended with the Dursleys and Marge enjoying a fabulous dinner, consisting of a baked ham, roasted carrots and potatoes, gravy, and rolls. While Harry was given the least to eat, he was still given quite a bit for a change, and it was all pretty good. He had to admit his Aunt Petunia was a decent cook, not as good as Mrs. Weasley or anything, but still good. Harry quickly made his way upstairs, after doing all the dishes and putting the leftovers into the refrigerator, to go to bed.

Once upstairs, Harry noticed a new stack of letters sitting on his desk. Hedwig was sleeping in her cage. ‘She must have delivered the letters while everyone was eating,’ he mused.

He had completely forgotten that letters were most likely going to arrive that day. It had been two days since he had written back to them. His friends had been writing to him constantly, especially Hermione. She kept nagging him to talk to her about Sirius’ death. He was getting fed up with her nagging because he did not want to talk about it. It would not make Sirius come back and it would not make him feel better. Ron, on the other hand, had taken to writing as if he was stepping on pins and needles around Harry. His letters were carefully avoiding the topic, but it was obvious he wanted to talk about it. Harry had just kept sending two word notes that read I’m fine back to them to keep them from running to his ‘rescue’. However, the most surprising letter had come from Ginny. She had written to him telling him to stop blaming himself for Sirius’ death; that she would not press him to talk to anyone, but that she was there for him if he ever wanted to talk. He was thankful for her, but still blamed himself for Sirius’ death. In the end he had actually written more than two words back to her. It was more of a thank you note for coming with him to the Ministry and an apology for dragging her with him. He skimmed the new letters and found they were the same as usual, all except for Ginny’s, which he took the time to read.

Harry,

I told you once to stop blaming yourself for Sirius’ death. I know you’re doing it. I can tell by the way you’re writing to me. And you do not need to apologize for dragging me along. If you remember, I forced you to let me come. It was my decision and I would do it again in a heartbeat. Don’t thank me for standing by your side at the Department of Mysteries, you know I always would. I won’t press you anymore on Sirius’ death, but please stop blaming yourself. It was not your fault, it was that bastard Voldemort’s fault that all of this happened.

Now, what’s been going on here at the Burrow? It’s been pretty quiet with just Ron, Mum, Dad and myself. The twins have opened a shop in Diagon Alley and the business is booming from what I’ve heard so far. Mum won’t let us go visit them, and they only come by on Sundays for the family dinner. She grounded us for two weeks for going off with you to the Ministry, but I’m not complaining, although Ron is. He’s not complaining about going, just that the punishment is unfair.

But don’t get me started on Ron. He has been being a prat about Dean ever since I said we were dating. I mean it’s quite funny when he goes on about Dean being evil and unworthy of me when he was fine with him before I said we were dating, but it gets on my nerves more often than not. I’m tired of him trying to be the big brother and protect me. He doesn’t realize I don’t need his protection. You better not start doing it also, Harry.

Oh, Ron was right jealous when I got an actual letter from you. He’s been tired of your two word notes to him. You really should write him more than two words, I know he’s concerned about you, but he’s thick and doesn’t know how to go about it properly. I caught him sneaking into my room today trying to read the letter you sent me. I almost hexed him for doing that, but the threat of it was enough to make him run for his life. I don’t think he was able to read much, if any because it was under a pile of other stuff and it looked like he was just pulling it out when I came into the room. Remember if you ever need to talk about anything I’m always available.

Love,

Ginny


Harry had actually laughed at the situation with Dean. Knowing Ron as Harry did, he knew that Ron would not drop the subject until they either broke up or Ginny fixed his attitude. He actually enjoyed reading about what was happening at the Burrow, but most of all he wished he could be at the Burrow, or at least away from the Dursleys. Figuring he could wait until morning to write back to Ginny and then write something longer to Ron and Hermione, as Ginny had suggested, he set the letter down on his desk and climbed into bed. He was not looking forward to the nightmares that were sure to plague him that night.

~*~

That night Marge woke up to Harry’s moans coming from down the hall.

“No Sirius, don’t go, I need you.”

“What the bloody hell is wrong with that boy?” she wondered aloud as she rolled over trying to get back to sleep. She could faintly hear him moaning other names, but she could not make them out so she decided to just ignore it. If it happened again tomorrow night she would give him a piece of her mind.

“NO! CEDRIC!” she heard suddenly. This time however, it was much louder and she decided to just give him a good tongue lashing now instead of waiting. She would not have her sleep interrupted by some delinquent of a boy. She got up out of bed and put her slippers on. As she went out into the hallway toward Harry’s door, she saw Vernon coming out of his room from the end of the hall.

“BOY! I swear, if your aunt wakes up because of your screaming… Oh hello Marge,” Vernon said, walking down the hall, noticing Marge by Harry’s door. Vernon opened the door and both of them went into Harry’s room to find him rolling his head from side to side, his arms and legs were thrashing about. To anyone that cared, it was obvious he was having a terrible nightmare, but the Dursleys never cared for him. They only cared about their sleep being interrupted, so they had no sympathy for him.

“BOY! WAKE UP! Look what you went and did! You woke her up with your damn moaning and screaming, I ought to beat you for this one!” Vernon yelled, waking Harry up.

Harry sat bolt right upright when his uncle yelled. Sweat was pouring down his face. His bare chest and pillow were already soaked in it.

“It’s fine Vernon, apparently Harry’s little boyfriend Cedric broke up with him at St. Brutus’,” Aunt Marge sneered. Harry shakily reached for his glasses and put them on as he followed what Aunt Marge said. His anger sparked along with his sorrow for Cedric’s death.

“What’s wrong Harry, heart broken by your little faggot boyfriend Cedric? Queer as your father I suppose. I heard from Vernon here that you have a little buddy Sirius who you enjoy playing with, and who happens to be a convicted murderer. Did he happen to play with your father too?” she continued.

“Never insult my parents or my godfather,” Harry said in a low, deadly tone.

“Oh, godfather was he? Real cute that is, I wonder if your mother knew what he was up to with her husband and son.”

“SHUT UP!” Harry yelled as he sprang from his bed with his wand in hand pointing it at Marge. Uncle Vernon’s face went pale as he shrank back out of the room.

“Don’t point that stick at me. Is that what you use to play with? I bet your mummy enjoyed it to,” she kept on going as if she had not heard Harry.

Harry, whose rage was nearly out of control, did not notice that his nightstand was hovering about four inches off the floor.

“I SAID SHUT UP! NEVER INSULT MY PARENTS!” Harry screamed at her. He knew he had to calm down, but that was impossible if she kept on insulting his parents. He went over a list of potions ingredients in his head, but could not remember more than the first two ingredients.

“Or else what, boy? Going to go off and get killed like your parents?”

Those words were the last Marge would ever speak to Harry. As soon as the words left her mouth, a huge wave of power erupted out from Harry. The house began shaking violently, as if an earthquake was hitting. All the pictures and windows shattered, items were falling off the shelves around the house. On the opposite side of the house, Dudley’s bedroom, along with most of the hallway, collapsed into the floor, crashing down into the rooms below them. Screams were heard, flames were seen and blood was streaked across what was left of the walls. When Petunia heard the screaming and explosions, she ran blindly out of her bedroom door right over the edge, and fell onto the ground of the story below. She landed awkwardly and her left leg broke with a nasty snap, she screamed out in pain. Vernon, who had backed away from Marge towards the staircase, was blown down the stairs and into a wall, and knocked unconscious. Once all the smoke and dust had cleared away, Harry was shocked to see all of the destruction, and that a chunk of wall was noticeably missing. Looking out through the hole in the wall, Harry saw Marge on the front lawn of Number Four Privet Drive.

~*~

“The Hog’s Head!” Dumbledore yelled, putting his head into the green flames. Despite the fact that it was nearly three in the morning, Dumbledore was confident that he would be welcomed.

“ABERFORTH!”

“Albus, is that you?”

“Yes, hurry, I need your help. I need you to go check on Harry. I was just alerted of an extreme amount of energy being unleashed, and part of his home being destroyed. I need you to get there before the Ministry does and bring Harry back to Hogwarts. I would go myself, but I fear Harry will not listen to me after what happened the last time I spoke with him, and I currently have a visitor that I need to attend to. He has important information for the Order.”

“Alright Albus, but you owe me one,” Aberforth said, before apparating away to Privet Drive.

With that crisis hopefully averted, Albus turned back to the other occupant in his office.

“What is this troubling news you were going to tell me about, Severus?” Albus asked to the man sitting in front of him. The man was dressed in black robes with a traveling cloak on, it too was black. His hooked nose stood out on his face and his greasy hair fell down to just above his eyebrows.

“Albus, I was with the Dark Lord two days ago when a prophecy was made. He had captured Trelawney and was trying to force the prophecy out of her, when she made a new prophecy right in front of us. Only the three of us were in the room.”

“May I see your memory of it?” Albus asked. He was deeply concerned about Trelawney, but this new prophecy was a more pressing matter.

~*~

‘Wow’ was the only coherent thought that Aberforth was able to form after seeing Privet Drive. Although the few flames were gone, there was still a chunk of the house missing, a woman lying on the front lawn and neighbors scattered about trying to figure out what had happened. Performing a Disillusionment Charm, Aberforth set out to find Harry in the wreckage.

“The immense power,” he said aloud to himself, still able to feel the aura of magic around him. Focusing on it, he realized that it was centered upstairs.

After climbing to the top of the somewhat broken stairway, he found Harry still looking around in shock.

“Harry?” he said cautiously, taking off the Disillusionment Charm. “Are you Harry Potter?”

“Dumbledore?” he said, looking at a man who was strikingly similar looking to Albus.

“Half right, but I’m not Albus. I’m his brother Aberforth. He sent me to come and pick you up before the Ministry arrived,” he said slowly. “But I’m not sure if I really want to.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, eyeing Aberforth suspiciously. Harry was still trying to get around the fact that he had caused this, but what Aberforth said struck him as suspicious.

“Harry, what you did here required an amazing amount of magical power, and I was wondering if I could take you somewhere I found in my journeys. It will help you learn to control your newfound powers and talents among other things.”

“Where?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Do you trust me?”

Harry thought a moment before nodding. He was not sure why he trusted Aberforth, but he just knew that he did. Aberforth pulled out his wand and muttered an incantation. Out of his wand came a silvery animal that instantly took off to the north. Harry did not have time to figure out what kind of animal was it was, for Aberforth had reached out and grabbed his arm, and with a soft pop, they both disapparated from Privet Drive.

~*~

Moments later the Ministry arrived, sending the Dursleys and Marge to St. Mungo’s, repairing the damage, and getting reports of what happened from the Muggles before obliviating all of them.

Fudge, who looked happier than he had in a long time, said, “Find the boy and bring him to me.”

But an hour later, after searching all of Surrey, the Aurors reported back. There was no sign of Harry Potter anywhere.

~*~

“My Lord, the preparations are almost complete. We shall be able to make our move in a little over two weeks,” a man spoke while kneeling in front of a hooded man in black.

They were in the middle of a graveyard, in the dead of night. A few people cloaked in black were surrounding the two. They were looking around nervously, not sure what to make of this news and who, if anyone, would be punished.

“Good, you have done well, Wormtail,” the man spoke coldly. He turned his gaze towards the other people standing around them. They all shivered in fear of his dark red gaze. A snake slithered around the man’s feet as if protecting him; however, the aura around the man instilled fear all by itself.

“Bellatrix have you and your team studied the wards around the home?” he asked. A woman stepped in front of him as the man named Wormtail moved out of the way. She knelt in front of him before speaking.

“My Lord, we have an understanding of all but one of the wards. It appears to have been cast by their son, who is a curse-breaker. We shall have it ready to be taken down by tomorrow evening,” she spoke, with a slight edge of fear in her voice.

“Very well, do not fail me, Bellatrix. I will not tolerate it again. Now leave me, I must make sure the final plans are set. Once this is done, there shall be no hope for the wizarding world,” he spoke forcefully. Everyone quivered in fear at the force which he put behind his words. They quickly disapparated from the graveyard.

Voldemort turned to walk back up to the house on the hill in the distance. The snake followed him as he walked.

“Once this is done, Nagini, no one shall be able to stop me,” he spoke to the snake. If anyone had been listening, they would have only heard hissing and spitting.

Once inside the house, he made his way up to one of the rooms upstairs, where he opened the door. A thin woman lay bound to the bed. She was asleep, but her face was pale and worn. Her large glasses were still on her face, even though she was sleeping.

Voldemort exited the room and recast the Locking Charm. He went further down the hall into another room, where he pulled out a large wooden basin with carvings of runes along the sides. He pulled out his wand and stirred the contents of the basin, which were a thick silvery liquid. After pulling his wand out of the basin, he spoke an incantation and a silvery mist hovered over it. It quickly enlarged to engulf the table it was set upon, before the mist turned into a clear image. It began playing before Voldemort’s eyes as he went over what he had heard two days ago.

The woman was standing stiff as a board, in the room within which she currently resided. Voldemort and Severus were in the room. Voldemort was standing in front of her, while Severus was seated behind him near the wall. At the time the two men had been trying to force the prophecy, the one that had been smashed in the Department of Mysteries, out of her; however, when she stood up stock still and start speaking, he had quieted and listened to what she said. She spoke in an unusually harsh, hoarse tone rather than her usual soft, misty tone.

“The Dark Lord's followers shall come for her…Youngest of seven, the only daughter of seven generations…The Chosen One, who once saved her from the Dark Lord's past,
must save her from the Dark Lord's present, for only the Chosen One can save her.
If the Seventh of Seven is not saved, the Dark Lord shall know no equal. But together, the Seventh of Seven and the Chosen One…united by the power the Dark Lord knows not, shall have the ultimate power to vanquish the Dark Lord…The Dark Lord's followers shall come for she who holds the key to the Chosen One.”



Abruptly, the memory ended and the mist sank back into the basin. Voldemort sat down in a chair contemplating what he was going to do. His main focus was the last line, “she who holds the key to the Chosen One”. He assumed that meant Harry Potter. The boy had been a thorn in his side for far too long, but if this girl Trelawney spoke of held the key to him, then he had to get a hold of it. If only he could rescue her, then the plan would be foolproof.

It would be the perfect plan to draw Harry Potter out of hiding and finally be rid of him. Voldemort was the most powerful wizard ever; no sixteen-year-old boy could match him. Harry would never let a friend suffer for him. He would go rushing to her aid and be killed.

He had been confused about “Once saved from the past”, but when he remembered Lucius speaking to him of the diary, which he had been very displeased to have lost, he realized the boy had saved her from his sixteen-year-old self. He would not make the mistake of letting her be saved once again.




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