Cold
Semi-sweet, semicide
The remorse you can't hide
Now we molt, past our skin
And make room to begin
- Empathy by Crystal Castles -
"I need to talk to you."
The morning light had not yet warmed the living room, when Harry went downstairs to talk. Uncle Vernon was getting ready for work, while Aunt Petunia was preparing to bake. Dudley was still asleep upstairs, enjoying his summer break. He usually didn't get up until two hours later, when Aunt Petunia had already kicked Harry out.
The living room seemed to freeze. Come to think of it, they couldn't really remember the last time Harry had initiated a conversation. Maybe it was that, or the seriousness in his voice that made Vernon at least listen. Without looking up from his newspaper, he grumbled. "Out with it. I haven't got all day."
"It's about Voldemort."
Petunia dropped the oven glove from her hand and sat down on the nearest chair, terrified. Her voice trembled as she asked, "What did you just say?"
Vernon finally looked up at his wife's terrified face. An inexplicable anger flooded his face, as if it was all Harry's fault. He was about to open his mouth, probably to scream his head off, but Harry was quicker. "Voldemort. He's back."
Petunia collapsed, holding on onto Vernon's shoulder as she just managed to stay in her chair. Her husband looked back and forth between them, puzzled, not knowing whether to be angry or frightened.
"But he's... dead." That was all she could say.
Harry didn't step closer to reassure her. "He's back," he repeated instead, in a cold voice.
"Who?"
Petunia swallowed hard, searching for the words to explain to her husband. "He- He killed my sister. The freak terrorist." Now Vernon knows who she's talking about. He doesn't know the extent of the threat, of course, but Petunia had told him about Him back then.
"But he's dead," Vernon declared stupidly.
"Not anymore. He's back." Harry repeated himself for the third time that morning, then Petunia nodded. Harry was glad she had caught on and not called him a liar, unlike some. "He's coming after me."
For Vernon, that was the last straw apparently. He jumped up from his seat, screaming, "Get out of here! You're NOT going to be some terrorist target in this house-"
"I wasn't planning on it." Harry stated calmly, and he didn't even flinch. Vernon was not as intimidating as he once had been for Harry. There are worse monsters out there now. "I'm leaving. Just wanted to let you know a few things before."
"You can't leave," Petunia interrupted. Vernon and Harry turned to her at the same time. This had never happened before - Vernon and Harry in unison against Petunia.
They stared at each other blankly for a moment before Harry remembered to protest. "B-But-"
"You are NOT leaving-"
"Yes I am!"
Petunia sat back in her chair, tiredly, while she rubbed her forehead with her hand. Vernon stared at her, stunned, as if she'd lost her mind. Maybe she had.
Harry can't believe it. Why won't she let him go? All summer long - no, she's been treating him like a prisoner or a house-elf in his wholelife. Wouldn't it be easier to just let him go?
"You can't leave." The focus was elsewhere this time. Harry stopped.
She was hiding something.
Petunia sighted deeply, and began to explain, responding to the silence. "When- When you first went to that school, I got a letter from your headmaster," Her hands were shaking, but not her voice. "You are - we are - protected by my sister as long as you stay more than one month per year here."
Bloody hell.
It made no sense for Harry. "But the other years-"
"I'm not saying you have to stay here much," she stated. "We picked up from the station on the first of July and got home in the afternoon. I don't know what counts as 'more'. A second? An hour? I cannot say for certain. If you could just wait until this afternoon, you'll have a month and a day, just for sure. To make sure we still have my sister's protection."
Harry did not want to wait. He wanted to leave. Never to come back. Never to listen to Aunt Petunia again.
Besides, his mother's protective magic no longer works on him. Voldemort proved that. Yet Harry did not speak.
But what if it's only Harry it no longer works on? Then what? Leave them for Voldemort? To torture them in order to find out where Harry is until they lose their minds and die?
No.
Harry can't leave them without his mother's magic, defenseless. He has to wait. He could do that.
He felt his breathing becoming difficult. Not again, he begged silently. He thought it was over. He thought he could breathe. Not again.
So he nodded, not trusting his words, and hurried upstairs, leaving behind the sound of a furious Uncle Vernon. He slumped down on his bed, while his breathing was getting heavier by every second and his vision blurred by memories. He waited for his breathing to slow, waited for the few hours to pass until the afternoon.
He waited.
Harry ventured out of the house at six in the evening, his vintage green passenger bag slung over his shoulder. He put all his belongings in his mother's bag, except Hedvig, of course. He didn't know how the creature would react to the magic bag, so he just put his cage away and set the owl free. Harry knew she would find him wherever he went.
The streets were strangely deserted. He started walking to the nearest bus stop, about twenty minitues down. He didn't want to ride the Knight Bus, because he decided that it would be the best to avoid anything magical for the time being while he disappeared. For safety, I guess. He even told Aunt Petunia not to look for him, or if wizards came looking for him, not to open the door. To lie if she had to. He left no trace behind.
Then suddenly, he froze when a chill ran up on his spine.
A moment before it was warm, nothing special, so it was not normal. The hairs on his arms stuck up, the air in his lungs grew cold, and the chill crept up his skin. It was so vaguely familiar, but he couldn't put his hands on it. Something inside him screamed at him to run. He had learned to trust his instincts and this was too coincidental to be coincidence. It's not paranoia if it happens a lot. Someone -or something- is here. And it was watching him.
He needs to get out of here.
He quickened his steps, but the cold only came closer. He didn't wait for it to catch up, and took off running. Something was there. It's certain now. He turned the corner, where there was a tunnel in front of him. It shouted about the tunnel, that it was a bad idea to go in. Tunnel or go back. Tunnel or backwards. The cold was coming.
Closer and closer.
Harry made his decision, and ran into the tunnel.
Cold. Dark. Why was it so dark around him? It should still be daylight. Cold.
His instincts were screaming at him to run faster. But the tunnel seemed to have no end. It was a trap - of course it was. He was running just to keep from the cold, but he was so tired. He did not want to run. He didn't feel like this-
-since Cedic. Cedric's death.
He just wanted to give up.
A scream pierced his ears. Or was it his scream? No... an another one – definitely a female. Was there anyone else? He needed to help her. Or was this another trap? He was so tired. So tired and sad. Another scream, closer this time. But where? It was so cold-
And something in Harry just clicked together. The screams, the willing to stop fighting, the cold.
Dementors.
He pulled his wand from his sleeve pocket. Why didn’t he noticed this sooner? He’s useless. It would be better if he just-
Damn it.
"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted. But nothing happened. He said the spell over and over again. Why didn't anything happen? He failed. He could just give up and... No! the dementors wanted him to think that. Think, think, think!
Harry panicked.
His wand fell from his hand, down to the ground.
The darkness came closer and closer to him, but he couldn't find any happy feeling in himself to cling into. As if all his good memories were poisoned suddenly. He whispered the spell over and over again, powerlessly, not even noticing his wand missing as he couldn’t think of any memory or joy now. Tears fell down his cheek.
As it was his last hope, he remembered what happiness felt like. Not the happines trough the memories, but experiencing that feeling. The feeling that lighted up his chest, and brought warm to him. That glow was the last thing Harry thought of.
That's the glow he wanted to display as a deer.
He refuse to die.
"Expecto Patronum," he whispered with his last breath.
And something appeared, illuminating the tunnel. The light blinded Harry at first, but the image that came to his eyes after the flash was much worse. A dementor leaned over him, way too close to his face. Harry could see everything from its face but nothing at the same time. It had no eyeballs in his eye sockets, but still it had a rather human face, covered in mist. His nose was missing, just like Voldemort's. However, unlike him, there was no skin on his face, not really, just a rotting layer that gave off a sickening smell towards Harry.
It was ready to give Harry the kiss.
His blood ran cold when he realised how close it had come to happening. He was only a moment away from becoming soulless dead.
This sight lasted only a moment before the patronus, Prongs, pushed the dementor off him. The air rushed back into Harry's lungs and he sat up, coughing, while Prongs chased away the dementors around him. Harry counted eight before they disappeared into the night. Not nearly as many as in the third year, he thought. Now the sense of familiarity made sense. And the scream...
Harry groaned and got up off the floor. It was not the time to think about the dead. The tunnel was dark around him again, but Prongs soon returned to his side. Using the patron as a light source, he found his wand lay on the ground a metre away. Harry didn’t remember dropping it. But then how-
Could’ve he summoned Prongs without his wand?
A sharp pain shot through his head. How did dementors even get here in the first place? So many questions, and no answers. But he cannot stay here in case they return, or somebody else comes here for him.
He had to move.
But his vision seemed not to agree with him. He felt dizzy as black spots swam before him. He was so tired, this time for real. He almost collapsed, but luckily, he found support. He clenched his teeth and lurched forward. His body half fell onto the support that allowed him to walk. The path was lit by Prongs, which led them out. Outside it was dark too. How's it evening already?
Harry just noticed his support was moving with him. He felt strong muscles and hair under his hands. He opened his eyes a crack to see it was glowing, and transparent mostly. A solid body.
Prongs.
How-
Before he could even finish, Harry fainted, leaning on his patronus.
"Sirius!"
Arthur Weasley burst into Sirius' room at 12 Grimmauld Place. The first man immediately stood up. Arthur was not a man who could be moved out of his calm easily. Before he could ask what had happened, Arthur already spoke, "It's Harry."
Sirius' eyes widened and he rushed past Arthur. Downstairs, the whole Order was almost there in the hall. They were arguing, but Sirius didn't catch any details before the whole room froze when he entered, with Arthur close on his heels.
"What happened to Harry," he demanded an answer immidiately.
"Ask Mundungus!" Molly Weasley shouted, pointing at the middle-aged man across the room. "He was supposed to be looking after the boy!"
Sirius had enough. "Just tell me already what happened!"
"Harry left the house at six o'clock and has not returned since," Dumbledore finally informed him. He was serious, but still not panicking. This threw Sirius off. How could he be so calm when Sirius' godson, the only thing he had left, was bloody missing?
"You're telling me-" Sirius looked across the room, "That my godson is fucking missing and you just called me now?"
"We knew you wouldn't take it well..."
Sirius didn't take it well indeed.
The commentator's only luck was that he couldn't tell who it was, and didn't have time to, as a patron appeared before them.
"Dear Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," the fox-shaped patronus spoke in a female voice. "We sent this massage to you as the magical guardian of Harry Potter. We have received intelligence that Harry Potter performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past eleven this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area. The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in his expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as the Headmaster, we are waiting for the procedure to be validated. Ministry representatives will be calling on his place of residence shortly to destroy his wand. As he had already received an official warning for a previous offence under section 13 of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that his presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 A.M. on August 12th. Yours sincerely, Malfalda Hopkirk."
The patronus disappeared, leaving behind an oppressive silence.
Sirius came to his senses first, and stormed at Mundungus, "This is your fault!" The first punch was to the nose. The second hit his jaw, and then Sirius hit him wherever he could. Blood pounded in his ears, blocking out the voices of the Order. Someone put their arms around him and tried to pull him off the other man, but Sirius refused to let himself be pulled off. He hit and hit and hit.
"Enough Sirius!" Sirius stopped. He knew that voice.
Moony.
He doesn't understand. Why doesn't he understand? Harry disappeared and was attacked because of Mundungus. Sirius wanted to kill him. Remus has to understand. Harry is his all. So why doesn’t he? Why not?
"You don't understand-" but Sirius caught his breath when he met Remus' gaze.
Oh.
He does understand.
Sirius lowered his fist and let go of the other man, who was clutching his nose while trying to get as far away from Sirius as possible. His face was stained bloody from the blood dripping from his nose, which must have broken on the first punch. No one offered to cast a healing spell on him.
The world came back to him as he was lost in Remus' eyes.
"We'll find him," Remus said firmly. "He still has his wand, and he's still in Muggle area. It's unlikely that they kidnapped him."
Eventually the two broke eye contact, although Sirius wasn't sure which on of them did it. If Remus was right, Harry wasn't in as much danger as he'd first thought. Nevertheless, he needed to find his godson as quickly as he could.
"We are searching the area. We'll find him." Sirius repeated to the Order, not sure if he just thinks everyone's an idiot or if he's trying to reassure himself. Maybe both.
He transformed into a dog and left the house with Remus. The others split up into groups of one or two and searched for Harry through the next two days.
They didn't find him.