Chapter 1 — The Boy Who Lived lives

Harry Potter and the Dark Halo
FunCube

Darkness. Darkness dwelled in the corners of the small chamber. Under the bed on the one side. On the wall of the other side. Darkness surrounded the boy on the hard pallet, haunting his sleep. And darkness dwelled in his dreams.

"Harry? Where are you?"

The same dream. Always the same dream. A nightmare that was holding him together. The voice echoing through his mind.

"Harry? I am here! Can you hear me?"

Desperation dripping from every word. And he wanted so desperately to answer. Wanted the darkness to convey his pleadings to his only shimmer of hope.

But the hard stone walls of his cell obliterated every attempt to reach out of his misery. And so they did in his dreams. Not a single tone would leave his mouth regardless of how much he wanted it.

"Where are you? Please, answer me!"

He didn't know how long he had been in his prison, but the voice of his best friend was the only thing holding him in this world. Could he only be able to answer!

When he had dreamed the dream for the first time, there had been many to call his name: all his friends from Hogwarts, Dumbledore, Sirius, the Weaslys… but one after another their voices had perished in the darkness. Now, only his most loyal friend was out there searching for him. But he couldn't reach her.

In the beginning she had been one of the many, clear for him to see: the petite figure with brown curly locks and the deep chocolate brown, golden eyes. Golden eyes, always trained on him with a look of determination.

But she was the first to vanish and the memory of it still sent shivers over his body.

She had looked at him. Their eyes locked. Green and gold. "For Harry," she had stated matter-of-factly. And then she was gone. Absorbed into the dark. Only her voice persisted. And when all the others had faded, hers remained. A voice he always trusted. A voice he now so desperately hold onto. The voice of Hermione Granger.

A rumble woke Harry Potter from his sweet torture. Was that Dudley again? He raised his arm and touched the cold stone that marked the border of his world. A world that was roughly 2 meters by 2 meters, lit only by a dimly shining disk on the ceiling, his sun.

Beyond that only darkness.

His rare cousin's trampling was the only indication of the existence of something outside of his world. He didn't know how he had come here, nor did he know where this place exactly was. Nor did it really matter. There was no door he could escape through, no button to touch that opened a secret entrance, no hope left. He had searched every centimeter, had touched every stone, but in the end he had given up.

All he could remember was the feeling he had after coming back from that graveyard, merely escaping Voldemort's spells. The conflict in his stomach. Happiness that he was alive, suppressed by misery because Cedric was not. The screams of his friend echoing in his head.

But then only darkness.

When he had woken up, he had found himself in this cell. He had been terrified that Voldemort had gotten him after all. That he would come through the wall and end him. But that didn't happen. The feeling had worn off and hope took its place. Hope that someone would come to rescue him. Surely they would do everything in their power to find him! But that didn't happen. And nothing remained.

Only darkness.

There was nothing to do. He didn't feel hunger. He didn't feel thirst. But the desire had never left. What would he give for a bite of an apple. Or a sip of water. What would he give for the feeling of the cold wind on his cheek. The feeling of flying. Of freedom.

What would he give for a talk with a friend. For a game of chess with Ron. Even for a scolding by Hermione.

Long had he become tired of his own voice and so had drifted into his memories. Memories of a happier time. A time of laughter, adventure and friendship.

He would have become insane if not for the voice in his dreams. A voice he could hear clearer than any memory was. The voice that gave him hope, that held him back from fading into nothingness. A voice of humble and reason. Hermione's voice.

She had saved him before. Now she was doing it every time he fell asleep. If she only could hear him!

Krrrrrrr

Harry sat up, listening attentively. Another sound had come from somewhere behind the walls. Maybe Dudley again? He shook his head. No, he reminded himself, there was no Dudley around. That delusion had only crept into his mind because he had lived ten years in a small cupboard under the stairs with his cousin trampling down the steps to annoy him. Something else was the reason for the strange sounds he heard through the walls.

This time, however, the sound was not far away, as it normally was, but much nearer. Somewhere behind the wall opposite to his bed. That had never happened before.

A terrible feeling grew in his stomach. Maybe they came for him after all. Whoever had kidnapped him, couldn't have good intention. This could be his end. Not that he would mind it. After so long of wasting away, he more than anything else craved for a thing to do. Anything that stopped this forced idleness, even if it was the next great adventure.

The only thing that was holding him back was the voice.

Across from him, the wall began jolting. Little cracks opened all over it.

Was it opening? Someone really was coming! Harry couldn't breathe. So long had he waited for this moment. Whatever would come through, he was ready to face anything just to escape the boredom of his prison.

The stones began to slide away, magically fusing with the corners.

Hope flourished inside his chest. Maybe Hermione had found him after all and was now coming to rescue him.

As the wall opened up, bright light fell into his world, radiating from a single point in the now forming entrance, outshining the dimly disk on the ceiling, lighting the corners, and making him turn away as the light blinded his eyes with a brilliance he hadn't seen in a long time.

Someone was behind that light, which probably came from a wand.

The intensity of the light decreased and he could recognize a silhouette. A tall boy stood there, holding a wand and looking at him.

Then, the light had faded enough for Harry's eyes to take in the features of the boy's face. He was sure he had seen it before. A long time ago.

"Harry!" shouted the boy and stormed into the room, "thank heaven, we found you!"

That voice! He knew it: Neville Longbottom!

Neville took his shoulders and happily shook him.

"Are you fine? Man, you look whacked."

Harry wanted to answer but no words would come out of his mouth. He could only look into Neville's eyes and look relieved.

For Neville, it seemed enough to be reassured. He looked around the room and said, "This place looks awful. Have you been here all the time?"

Harry could still not answer, but Neville took that as a yes.

Now, a thousand questions he wanted to ask flooded Harry's mind. Where was he? How long had he been here? How was Hermione? And of course Ron and his other friends? Where was his wand? How had they found him? What had happened to Voldemort?

But not the slightest tone would leave his mouth. So, the only thing he could do was to stare. First to Neville but then beyond him where he had come from. There was a tunnel leading somewhere Harry couldn't see. But he knew where it ended: in freedom.

"Come on. We don't have much time and we have to get you out of here," Neville said and fished two small vials out of a pocket of his robe. "Sorry but you have to drink this. We can't risk that anyone sees us," he answered Harry's unspoken question and handed over the glass while unstopping his own and taking multiple sips from it.

Harry looked at the mud-like liquid and didn't need to smell it in order to know what it was. He had, after all, drunken Polyjuice Potion before.

He opened the bottle and a sweet, heavy scent reached his nostrils. It wasn't the most appealing aroma but for Harry it was exciting nevertheless. He couldn't remember when he had last smelled something and so the only description for what he now inhaled was liberty.

Greedily he gulped down the potion and couldn't really apprehend the taste, because only a moment later the familiar burning sensation started to spread from his stomach. He couldn't see how his face morphed into someone else, but he imagined it to be like Neville's face who leaned on the wall at the other side of the cell and whose skin looked like boiling as different sized bubbles appeared and slowly changed his appearance.

The irritating process had hardly begun when it suddenly came to an end and two completely different people stood in the room.

"Good. That wasn't that bad," Neville said not very convincingly and put the vials back into his robe, "Ok, let's go and take a cart to the surface."

A cart to the surface? So they were somewhere underground and there were carts. Gringotts! Of course! It hadn't been Dudley, Harry knew that, but now it seemed so obvious. The odd noises he had heard had been the breaks of carts stopping nearby.

A light feeling filled Harry as he was finally able to place what had been his whole world for such a long time on a map. It had become a part of the real world again. And so had he.

"Luckily we can use this jewel, here. Hope you don't mind me borrowing it," he stated smiling and showed Harry the invisibility cloak.

He took it into his hand and let the silk run through his fingers. The familiar feeling caused long gone images and emotions to the surface of his consciousness, but now was not the time to think about old stories. Instead, he looked at Neville again and only now took in the changes that the boy had undergone. Gone were the baby fat and the shyness. Before him stood a good-looking, determined young man that watched him expectantly. How long had he been in this hole?

Awoken from his stupor, Harry stood up. At least he could still do that. In the long time, he had lived in this dark place, he hadn't been able to get much physical exercise. He had tried it, but whatever was preventing him from starving didn't give him enough energy to do much workout. Hell, it didn't even really placate his hunger.

"Ok, let's go," Neville said and started to move to where he had come from. Harry followed him. As he crossed the imaginary line where the wall had been mere five minutes ago, he looked back. There was nothing he left behind. Only Darkness. He turned around, ready for a new chapter in his live.

"I came here with Hannah Abbott," Neville started to tell as they walked along the roughly cut tunnel, "We had to somehow sneak into the mineshaft without being noticed by the goblins. So Hannah pretended to access her vault and I snuck into the tunnel system behind her when a goblin led her to the carts. The carts are actually pretty easy to control. Had no problem coming here, whatsoever. Apparently it's also not uncommon for carts to drive around without passengers, which is really lucky for us because that way we can drive a cart while hiding under the cloak and no one will become suspicious."

They reached a bigger tunnel that was dimly lit by blue shining crystals, that grew out of the walls and the ceiling. Before them were tracks embedded into the ground and a minecart stood on them, waiting for Harry and Neville to climb into. Behind them Harry could see the tunnel they had come from. It seemed hastily built as it lacked the style and the smoothness of the main tunnel. Not two meters away was a vault door labeled -404. They really had to be deep under the earth.

"Come on. It's going to be a long trip to the surface," Neville called from the cart he had already entered, "I am just glad that I don't had to encounter any dragons."

In another life Harry would maybe have made a joke about how they could easily outfly the dragon, but in this he said nothing and silently climbed into cart.

As Neville had predicted, the journey to the surface took a long time and Harry tried to take in as much as he could. Vault doors of different sizes emerged in front of them only to disappear behind them as they rode along. The different tunnels they passed differed all in size and appearance, some had many branches while others continued straight for multiple minutes. The cart just drove and never halted, apparently knowing which path it had to take. Harry could see Neville under the invisibility cloak and he wasn't pushing any controls.

He would have loved to feel the air blowing through his hair but the invisibility cloak blocked most of the airstream. He thought about taking it off, but it wouldn't be good if anyone saw him. They didn't encounter anyone, though, and finally pulled into the main station. The cart got slower and stop as the last of a long queue of waiting wagons.

The station was as Harry remembered from his first visit. He didn't know much about architecture but he would describe it as antique, like the Romans would have build it. There were multiple layers of round arcs — like an aqueduct — making up the wall and holding the high ceiling which itself was flat but richly adorned with an abundance of different gems and stones. Every other arc featured a statue of a goblin doing some task like blacksmithing, fishing or fighting. Only the four corner statues were identical and all looked grimly down on the rails holding spears and shields while guarding the entrance to the labyrinth of rails, vaults and secrets that was Gringotts.

He was sure that Hermione would have given him the full lecture about the different styles of goblin architecture, the meaning behind the statues and the history of their deeds. And though he wouldn't have said no to this discourse, he had other things to worry about right now. For example how they were supposed to exit the deserted station without being noticed and blend in with the people in the main hall. He knew from his previous visits that the golden door to this station was always guarded by at least two goblin warriors on the other side of the portal, so they couldn't just remove the invisibility cloak and go through the door. It would be somewhat conspicuous if they would enter the main hall without the guidance of a goblin. They couldn't sneak out of the station either. Not just because it was somewhat difficult for two people to move under the cloak — they weren't eleven anymore — or because of the risk to bump into someone, but also because then they would still have to somehow remove the invisibility cloak, which was conspicuous as well when done in a crowd of people.

Harry was just asking himself how Neville had managed it on the way in, when said door began to moan and slowly started to swing open.

"Hold on! Don't move and also don't panic," Neville whispered while grabbing Harry's waist. Harry holds onto Neville and tried not to make any sound when suddenly the world around him stretched as if it was painted on an elastic fabric and then pulled apart or like in a SciFi film when a ship approached light speed. It felt like being squeezed through an eye of a needle, a needle which had spent a lot of time in a minus thirty degree celsius freezer. Finally, the world contracted again until it looked like it normally would.

After Harry had regained his balance, in which he only succeeded because of Neville's grab, he noticed that they were now in a completely different place, namely on the other side of the main hall at a pillar that was near the main entrance of Gringotts.

Whatever kind of magic Neville had used didn't seem to have been noticed by either a wizard or a goblin currently in the hall. The people continued to wait in lines while the grimly looking goblins continued to count stacks of gold, weigh gems or handle customers. Just watching people living their everyday life was fascinating for the boy who had lived now for so long without watching anybody or anything for that matter.

But he couldn't enjoy the view for long because Neville pulled him behind the pillar, pressed another vial in his hand and said, "Drink this. It's practically a notice-me-not-charm but in form of a potion so the goblins won't detect the usage of spells inside their territory"

Not detecting usage of spells? And what had been this squeeze thingy he had done not a minute ago? He looked at Neville.

"Don't look at me. I didn't brew it. Or I wouldn't drink it myself." he whispered smilingly and drowned the potion. Harry followed suit and drank the clear waterlike substance. It tasted overly sweet and the flavour alternated between blueberries and mango every few seconds.

Before he could further concentrate on the effect of the potion, Neville pulled down the invisibility cloak so they were for everyone to see. Panic arose in Harry and he began franticly to look around and see if anyone had witnessed the sudden appearance of two people in the main Hall of Gringotts, but it seemed that in fact no one had noticed them. Well, the potion was not called notice-me-not for nothing, he thought.

Neville looked at him and smiled — apparently knowing what thoughts were currently running through Harry's mind — and as if nothing had happened started to stride in the direction of the silver doors. Harry was only baffled for a moment before he started to walk over the marble floor to catch up with Neville.

As they had left the main hall and entered the small entrance hall, Harry saw a young boy holding his mother's hand while looking up at the doors that were now behind him. He didn't have to turn around to see the words engraved into the silver; he could still remember them from his first visit, which — he thought — were probably exactly their intended effect. Was he now the treasure Neville had taken from beneath their floors? There had been no dragon to guard him, though, and on the other hand others had broken into Gringotts successfully before, too. In the end they were just words.

After walking through the small hall, they finally reached the two bronze doors that lead to Diagon Alley. Not a moment later they were outside and bright light fell into Harry's eyes. Sunlight! Instantly he could feel the warmth on his skin. The air was warm as well. It had to be summer, which meant that he had stayed at least one year underground. He didn't want to think about what he had missed. One year!

When his eyes had gotten used to the sunlight and after taking a deep breath, he could take in the view of the heart of Briton's wizarding world. Shops as far as he could see were squeezed next to each other and were waiting for busy customers to enter and buy all kind of tools, everyday objects and toys.

It was a busy day for Diagon Alley and people, wearing all kinds of colourful robes, pushed each other to reach their target and maybe cross another item from their shopping list.

Maybe Neville had given him time to take in this longly missed view or maybe the time was just running so slowly for Harry because of all the stimuli that hammered on his senses. Anyways, now he was pulling on Harry's robes to get him to move along.

But Harry didn't move. He didn't look at him either.

His eyes were fixed on a spot at the foot of the white stairs. People, regardless of how busy they were, pushed around it as if they feared to be burned. And in the middle, solid as a rock, stood lonely a figure, clothed in the black robes of Hogwarts, looking away from him and observing the crowd. His heart rejoiced because Harry Potter didn't have to see her face to know to whom these curly, brown locks belonged. And as long suppressed feelings surfaced and his emotions burst into the open, a single question pushed all others aside and before he could ponder the situation or control his reaction, he shouted the first word since his abduction.

"Hermione?"

The world stopped, the crowd froze, the lonely figure slowly turned, arms crossed, a wand loosely in her right-hand pointing at the sky. And Harry looked into the eyes of his best friend, when his heart stopped in horror. The face was that of Hermione and the eyes had the brown colour. But the golden shine was gone. And as a smirk began to form on her face, a cold shiver ran down his spine.

Please note, that english is not my mother tongue and when I am publishing a story I am at a point where I don't see the mistakes myself anymore. So it would be nice if someone would beta this story :D