September sun shined through partly clouded sky. Children ran among the playground, their carefree laughter filling the air. Sitting in the shadow of a tall oak tree, its tall upswept boughs protecting him from the sun, sat a young boy. Whereas every other child running among the playground had a friend or group of friends at their side, this young boy was all alone. He was always alone. Once they realized being friends with Harry Potter lead to being picked on by Dudley Dursley and his tagalongs, they quickly reconsidered. After all, what kid willingly wanted to become a target? All kids just wanted to be liked.
…X, Y, Z… Now I know my A-B-C's, next time won't you sing with me?
Harry hummed quietly under his breath, playing with a broken toy he had managed to smuggle from the bin at home before his Aunt Petunia threw it away. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips as if someone was whispering funny story in his ear.
"Is that one of my old toys, Scarface?"
Harry looked up and his smile slowly fell. Dudley stood before him with his hands on his hips, staring with pure loathing, which fitted his round, chubby face. Piers Polkiss stood on his right, Dudley's best friend and constant companion. His expression was a perfect copy of Dudley's. Narrowed eyes, harsh sneer, and intimidating stance.
"No," Harry lied as he moved the toy out of sight, behind his back.
Piers laughed, turning to his bigger friend. "He's such a liar, Dud."
Dudley held out his hand. "Give it back and maybe, just maybe, I won't tell my Dad."
"But-but, it's all old and broken," Harry pleaded, clenching the toy tightly.
A figure blurred in front of Harry. It was a girl, standing protectively before him. She was older than him. Maybe eight or nine. He was never sure, and had never asked. Her blonde hair, tied back in a shiny red ribbon, hung down to mid back. Her red dress was the same color as the ribbon in her hair. She turned to him, her little lips curved in a frown.
"I don't like him," she stated with clear disdain.
"Hope, don't," warned Harry, biting his lip as worry expanded inside his chest.
Dudley took a step forward, ignoring the girl as he glared down at the boy who sat against the tree, green eyes rapidly widening in worry and something else. "Hope I don't do what?"
"He likes to go for the menacing approach," noted a disapproving voice.
Directly to Harry's left was another boy. This black haired boy was older just like the girl. Twelve, maybe thirteen. The older boy turned those blank brown eyes on him. Their usual warmth was gone replaced by nothing. Harry rubbed his arms as all the hairs rose, his flesh tingling as goosebumps suddenly appeared.
Hope stepped closer to Dudley, blue eyes boring sharply into the larger boy. "You're not nice."
"Don't, please," Harry whispered, shaking his head.
"Like whining is going to save you," taunted Piers with a laugh.
Dudley clenched his fists and grinned darkly. "I'll teach you not to mess with my stuff, stupid."
He shouldn't have said that. Hope took a step forward. Was it the light or did her eyes turn pitch black for the briefest of seconds? Harry cried out in warning and jumped to his feet. His vision dimmed as a cold chill swept down his spine. There was a loud, billowing noise and he gave a gasp as his world tilted. Harry stumbled back, grabbing onto the tree behind him for support.
There was screaming.
Was it him? No. Harry rubbed his eyes and his vision cleared enough for him to see. He gaped as Dudley lay sprawled on the ground screaming so loudly that all activity on the playground ceased. The blond boy had fat tears dripping down his cheeks, as he cried and cried with each sob louder than the last. Harry took a step forward reaching out his hand to help. Dudley let out a whimper like noise and scrambled backward. All traces of loathing was gone replaced by wild fear when he gazed at Harry, who frowned at his reaction.
"What happened!" demanded Mrs. Jones, their teacher, as she ran to Dudley's side.
Harry shook his head, confused. "I don't know. He just... I don't know."
Mrs. Jones turned to Piers, as she helped the crying Dudley to his feet. He clung to her, hiding his face in her skirt. She patted his back as she silently checked him over for any hurts. She frowned as he appeared physically unharmed. Piers opened his mouth, trying to find the words.
"He was fine and then…" He shrugged lost for words. "He fell and then… he was crying."
"Is that it?" she asked, watching him carefully.
Harry watched him too as Piers slowly nodded, almost unsure. "I-I think so."
Mrs. Jones sighed and the entire playground watched as she rushed Dudley into the school. Harry wrung his hands together. His aunt and uncle wouldn't like this. They were going to blame him. He just knew they were. They always did. He bit his lower lip and wondered if Dudley was going to be okay. If he wasn't then someone would pay. And that someone would be him. Please, oh please. Let Dudley be okay.
In the end it was blamed on him.
That evening all of Harry's things, which wasn't much, his blanket he had since he was a baby, and his few clothes were moved from the smallest bedroom upstairs down to the cupboard under the stairs.
Dudley's toy's, including the toy Harry took from him, were tossed into Harry's old room, which had now become Dudley's second bedroom.
It wasn't fair. He didn't even do anything. He scrubbed at his cheeks as he warily watched the tiny spiders crawl along the walls, spinning their webs in the dim corners. The barest of light streamed in through the edges of the door, providing just enough to see.
"Last night he had another nightmare, Vernon," said Aunt Petunia.
Harry scooted closer to the door, and pressed his ear against it so he could hear better. He couldn't hear his Uncle Vernon's reply since he tended to talk lower than his high voiced aunt, who talked even higher when agitated or worried, like now.
"It's the third time I've had to change his bed sheets," came the concerned voice of Aunt Petunia. "I know that boy did some freakishness to him. I just know it!"
There was a loud slam and Harry jumped back startled. His heart hammered in his chest. He pressed his back against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. It wasn't his fault. He wasn't a freak and he didn't do anything. Why didn't they ever believe him? He was just as good as Dudley. Just as good. He tried his best. A tear fell down his cheek as he his laid his head against his knees, and wrapped his arms around his legs.
"A, B, C, D, E, F, G," he sang softly, his voice broken by quiet sniffles. "H, I, J, K…"
Whispers in the Dark.
by Water Mage
Prologue
Disclaimer: I don't own nothing. Wish I did. Idea is purely inspired from a story I read a week or so ago.
Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was just as rundown and dark as ever. Time away had changed nothing, and their time cleaning it had made little impact. Harry stuffed his last book in his trunk and pushed it closed. Tomorrow would mark his sixth trip journeying to Hogwarts on the train. One more year till he turned seventeen and legal to do anything he wanted.
Well not anything. He still had a prophecy to see through, and there were old debts that needed to be settled. Insane laughter echoed in his mind chased by a vision of wild eyes. Sirius' surprised expression replaced the image, and Harry shook his head. Opening his eyes, he rubbed at his chest where his heart suddenly ached. He would make that bitch pay for his godfather one way or another.
There was a soft knock on the door and Harry called out permission to enter. Hermione and Ron closed the door behind them and took a seat on the edge of his bed. Harry sighed as they watched him in that careful way they did after he's been alone for any extended length of time.
"Guys stop it," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm fine. If you keep looking at me like that at Hogwarts I'm going to snap."
Hermione spoke up after glancing at Ron. "Look at you like how?"
Harry snorted. "Like what you're doing now, being all passive with your concerned looks, and soft tone. It's bloody irritating. Sirius died. I'm sad. It hurts. Merlin, it hurts. But I'm not going to break. I swear."
"Sorry, Harry," apologized Ron, shrugging. "We're just worried is all. You tend to get all you know…" He trailed off, thinking of a correct word. "Broody."
That was so not true. He took offense to that. "I do not."
Hermione snorted this time. "You keep telling yourself that and one day you'll believe it. Harry, we know you."
Ron laughed. "She has a point, mate. You know it's true."
"Fine," admitted Harry, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "I suppose I do have a tiny habit of over thinking things."
"Admittance is always healthy!" said Ron, grinning.
Hermione absently folded one of his shirts that he had laying on his bed. "We just came up here to tell you that dinner is almost ready. Mrs. Weasley asked us to come up here and get you."
"Can't find my own way to the kitchen now?" asked Harry with more edge than he intended. Really, was everyone going to continue handling him with kid gloves.
Hermione sighed. "Harry, please."
"You know my mum," said Ron, shrugging. "Worrying is what she does best."
"I know," replied Harry, exhaling loudly. "It's –just that ever since … Sirius the entire Order isn't sure how to treat me. Sometimes its normal and everything's alright. They treat me like, me. And other times they look at me like you did when you came in here. It got old after the first week fast."
"I'm sure they'll get past it," assured Hermione. "School starts tomorrow so you won't have to put up with it anymore."
He ran a hand down his face, trying to rub out the sudden tiredness. "I know I'm being dumb about this. Don't mind me. I'll get over it."
"It's not dumb," said Ron, surprisingly sincere. "You've been through a lot. We would all be more concerned if you didn't feel anything."
Harry smiled at him thankfully. "You guys go on down. I'll be there in a bit. I just want to wash my hands and face really fast."
"We'll save you a seat," half smiled Hermione.
Harry closed the door after them and went to the bathroom that joined his room. The plumbing in the house was old, and it took some extensive work to get it to run the crystal clear color it appeared as now. Harry splashed some water on his face. He dabbed at his wet skin with a towel, and as the cloth left his face he sighed. He stared at his visible breath that left his lips in a puff of white air.
The temperature dropped even more within a split second. Frost coated the mirror and Harry rubbed at his arms as all the hairs stood on end. He stepped from the bathroom staring around his bedroom with a wary eye. There was a low creaking somewhere, and the shadows in the room churned as if they were a living breathing thing. A feeling surged through his veins heralding something unnatural. Invisible energy swept through the room, as the shadows continued to twist and move, growing like the rolling mist upon the ground.
It couldn't be. Harry gasped. No. NO. no. NO. Not now.
They couldn't be back.
They left.
They were gone.
Please not here. Please, oh please.
Impossible.impossible.Impossible.
He shook his head wildly, fingernails digging sharply in his palms. The pain was a numb echo next to the growing terror that was taking over his world. Blood welled in the crescent shaped cuts. Green eyes darted around watching the rising shadows that threatened to consume the room. He was imagining this. He had to be. This wasn't real. It couldn't be.
He was imagining it.
Too much time had passed. They couldn't be here.
He was real. They weren't. It was all in his head, his mind. A damaged child, seeking comfort.
Please.
...Please.
PleasePlease. Let it
...be a dream...
The air grew oppressively thick and it got hard to breath. Whether it was from the air itself or his lungs that refused to work in proper tandem with his heart, he didn't know. At this point it didn't matter. He didn't realize he had backed along the wall till he felt the solid surface thud against his spine. He closed his eyes willing it all to go away. A chill went down his spine. He had to see. He just had to see. One little peek. He slowly opened his eyes and he stuffed a fist in his mouth to muffle the scream that threatened to erupt.
Long blond hair fell about her shoulders. The ribbon was gone but the red dress was just as he remembered, although she was taller, and older. Older than him but not fully an adult. Her pouty red lips blossomed into a smile as her blue eyes met horrified green eyes that were as familiar as the sight of his tears.
She looked over her shoulder and said, "Look he cries."
Her voice came out as mocking and when she turned back around, Harry could see that her smile was wrong. There was no warmth behind it. It was cold and angry, like the expression around her face. She leaned close with that deceitful smile.
"You didn't think you would ever see us again, did you?"
Harry had to look away from those penetrating, winter blue eyes. "W-wh-what are you doing here?"
"The thing is we never left," said her companion, stepping from the shadows and into the light. "You just couldn't see us."
He was tall and thin. Older than Hope. Early twenties. His dark eyes were odd. They took up too much of the white in his eyes. They used to fascinate him as a child. He wasn't that same kid anymore. Now they scared him more than red eyes belonging to a serpentine face. He knew which one to really be afraid of.
"W-what," Harry closed his eyes, breathing deeply to stop his stutter. "What do you mean, Johnny? You left. It's been years."
Johnny grinned, dark eyes boring into him. "I mean we've never left. We've been with you the entire time."
Harry stilled. "Why couldn't I see you?"
He was careful with his tone. He knew better. It was not bright to make them angry. He had seen what they can do when they get angry.
"You didn't want to," said Hope, taking a step closer to him. She ran her hand through his hair, and he tried and failed to not shudder. "You got new friends. New friends that took you away from us."
"And we can't have that again. Now can we?" asked Johnny.
The dark expanded in his eyes till there was no white left. It was like looking at the night time sky devoid of stars. Harry's teeth chattered loudly and he rubbed his arms as it got impossibly cold. He shook his head wildly, closing his eyes, so he wouldn't have to witness the terrible expression that took over Johnny's face. The force that thrummed in the air settled and he cautiously opened his eyes.
Hope cocked her head, curious. Always curious. There was always something she wanted to know. "Harry, are you scared of us?"
Harry closed his eyes, fighting to keep his face from revealing the truth. "No, Hope. I'm never scared of you guys."
She giggled softly and leaned forward, so her next words tickled against his earlobe. "Why not?"
His face paled as horror settled down in his gut making itself at home. They shouldn't be here. They weren't real. They weren't real. He knew it and they damn well should know it too. He closed his eyes trying with every ounce of his being to will them away.
He opened his eyes, and Johnny's face was an inch from his, dark eyes locked on his. "We're going to be great friends again."
Loud knocking filled the room and the bedroom door opened. Ginny poked her head in. "Harry, dinner's ready. Everyone's waiting on you."
He sent her a shaky smile. "I'm coming."
She stepped into the room and studied him with apparent concern, as she noticed his state. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
He just did. He looked over her shoulder. Hope stood next to Ginny. The look she was sending the redhead was not a friendly one.
"She I hate most of all," she said darkly, passionate hatred dripping from her voice.
"Harry," called Ginny, touching his elbow. "You just stared off into space for like twenty seconds. Are you okay?"
He looked at Ginny and nodded absently. When he looked over her shoulder again Hope was gone. He gazed around the room. Johnny was gone as well. He couldn't even feel their presence anymore. His heart slowly returned to a normal cadence that he didn't even realize was working overtime. He licked his lips feeling tired, relieved, scared, and apprehensive all at once.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go," he finally replied, waving off her worry.
She nodded and said slowly, unconvinced, "Okay."
Ginny left the room first, and Harry couldn't resist gazing around the room one more time before closing the door with a soft click. He didn't need to see them to know they were watching. This wasn't over. They were back. Nothing would ever be right again.
This is inspired by another story I read in another fandom weeks ago. I should really be working more on Awaken Sleeper, but I've been itching to write a purely Harry Potter story, that's not a crossover, for awhile. Just to see if I still got it. If I continue this it will be short. Maybe 50k at the most I'm thinking.