Beneath The Stains Of Time(Harry Potter Fanfiction)

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I have written 11 chapters of this... it is on fanfiction net with a lot of reviews...not updated in a year or so...hope the Harry Potter fans here might comment)

Chapter one.
Disclaimer-All characters contained herein belong to JK Rowling



It was already three weeks into the school holidays, but for one particular boy, the passing of time was meaningless, irrelevant, and as such, he paid it no heed. Harry Potter sat cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom at number four, Privet drive, his green eyes dull and lifeless, as though the once vivid colour had seeped out along with his salty tears. The t-shirt and black jeans which hung off his thin body were filthy, caked in the sweat and stench of two weeks wear and his hair hung over his eyes in greasy clumps. His school trunk sat in the corner, opened, but still fully packed except for the quill, ink and parchment that sat on the bedside table, his only contact with the world he had once felt he belonged to.

This room had become his retreat, his haven, since his return, and nothing his Aunt or his Uncle said had broken through the defensive shields he had placed around his emotions. Whilst inwardly, he died a little more each day, consumed with guilt and sorrow, outwardly, his face remained a blank slate, all signs of any suffering carefully hidden from view. Nightly, he relived the death of his Godfather in his dreams, and nightly he reached out desperately, trying to save the man whose final expression of horror would forever be etched on his mind, a permanent reminder of his fatal mistake. Startled out of his reverie by a sharp knock on the door, Harry scrambled unsteadily to his feet as the door flew open, revealing a vastly large man, ruddy faced and bearing more than a slight resemblance to a mountain troll.

‘Are you deaf, boy, or did you not hear your Aunt call you down to dinner?’, the oversized man snarled, entering a few feet into the room.

Stepping back slightly, Harry stared blankly at his Uncle, as though not even seeing the man at all. It was the same scenario every day, at every mealtime, when either his uncle or his aunt would barge in, make some pathetic attempt to coerce him to eat, then depart with some smart remark about his health.

‘I’ve told you before, I’m not hungry. How many times do I have to tell you that?’, Harry said quietly, slipping over to his bed and sinking down onto the threadbare mattress. Absentmindedly, he plucked at the loose fabric of his jeans as his uncle remained inside the doorway, glaring at him with barely concealed anger,

‘Just remember this, boy. I won’t be carting you off to the hospital if you get sick. You can sit here and starve to death for all I care, but your Aunt and I will not be held responsible, so just you make sure you tell those freaky friends of yours that. Damned if I’ll have them marching into our home accusing us of mistreating you’.


As the door to his room slammed shut violently, Harry lay back on the bed, staring at the many cracks and abrasions that marred the ceiling above. So often had he lain in such a way, that he had each area of the decrepid surface mapped out, the memorised pattern a testimony to his incessant lassitude. Rolling over onto his side, he gazed blankly at the wall, whilst painful thoughts danced across his mind, reinforcing the guilt he had already hoarded up. If he suffered, it was only what was due to him. It was his penance for the foolish mistake that had forfeited his godfather’s life and placed so many of his friends in grave danger. As far as he was concerned, it was now safer to maintain an emotional distance from those he might inadvertently harm and he had over the last weeks toiled incessantly to lock his feelings firmly away. Sure, he still experienced torrents of extreme anger, extreme pain and extreme self-hatred, but he had learnt, in the main, to efficiently conceal these.


Sitting up slightly, Harry turned his gaze towards the window. Darkness was rapidly drawing in, throwing him into shadow, but he made no motion to turn on the light. He had come to appreciate the darkness, as long as he was awake and not trapped in one of his nightmares. As he glanced to the empty cage standing beside the wardrobe, a sharp tapping heralded the arrival of it’s occupant, most likely with the latest response from Remus. Sliding off the edge of the bed, he shakily made his way to the window, opening it as quietly as he could. The snowy owl flew in, circled the room once, then came to rest on the boy’s shoulder, offering her leg obediently. Removing the parchment, Harry gently stroked the owl, whispering his usual words to her,

‘I’m sorry, girl. I haven’t got any food for you tonight either.’

The owl hooted once, nibbled his ear, then flew to settle on the window ledge, watching her owner pensively. Clutching the missive tightly, Harry closed the window and made his way back to the bed, perching on the very edge With fumbling fingers he unrolled the parchment, laid it on the blanket beside him and leant over to read the few lines of neat script.

‘Dear Harry,

I am glad to hear you are managing alright at your relatives. It has been decided that you should spend the remainder of the holiday with the Order. Professor Snape and myself will therefore be collecting you in four days time from your current location. The reasons for your removal will be explained to you then. I look forward to seeing you again.

R. Lupin.


This may have been exactly the kind of letter Harry would have wished to receive at the same time last year, but not now. Now, all he wanted was to be left alone, to not have to face those who had also been witnesses to Sirius’ death, who had been privy to his error of judgement. Gritting his teeth, he snatched the parchment up and screwed it into a small ball before hurling it across the room. He couldn’t go back to that house and face the absence of the one who by all rights should still have been there. Every picture, every room, every inch of that place would serve to remind him that he was now entirely alone and that it was his fault. No, it was imperative that he remain where he was. With this thought in mind, he scrambled over the bed to sit cross-legged before the bedside table, reaching out to snatch up his quill and uncap the ink-bottle. A piece of blank parchment was already laid out and quickly, he scratched out his response, hoping it would be enough to stall the two Order members. As he checked over the finished note, he silently cursed his shaky hands, wondering if Remus would notice the difference in his handwriting.


Dear Remus,

I’ve been doing some thinking, and actually, I would much rather spend the remainder of the holidays here. The Dursleys are treating me really well and I don’t want to be moved. I am sure that it is just as safe here as at Order headquarters, considering the number of wards in place. Maybe I can see you once the new term has started or something?

Harry.


Hurredly. He rolled up the parchment, bound it with a small length of string and attached it to the awaiting owl’s leg, stroking her head gently before she flew off into the night. Alone once more, he stood for a brief moment in the shadows, gazing out upon the myriad twinkling lights in the distance, wondering if he could ever be a part of that life; if he could ever simply be a normal teenage boy.

Wow that's very good, could be J.K. Rowling! I am sceptical though as to whether Harry would ever choose to stay with the Dursleys when there was another option. But I like the sound of this story and I'm looking forward to the next part. The writing flows very well like some well written books. You have writing talent definitely.

Do you have any tips for me if I want to write some fan-fiction? I am mostly good at math so I often don't know what to do to get my creativity going.

Bring on chapter 2...

Teller

Above all, I would say...write for yourself, first and foremost...also, read other fanfiction authors' work as that can help immensely with ideas if you have nothing to get you going. I based some aspects of the Harry here on my own past issues, which seems to be what many fanfic authors do... hence, it might not be realistic in a sense that Rowling certainly wouldn't have included it, but it is realistic to me as it is one way I believe Harry might have psychologically reacted to all the tragedies in his life in the books. I tend to write angst, primarilly, and that seems to be a very popular genre among those who read Hp fanfic, so yeah...

Thanks Graelwyn (aka JK Rowling), I want to try doing some Dr Who short stories and I like your idea of using your own experiences into the story. Now you have explained how you wrote it it does make more sense. I will look out for other things you write.

Chapter two.


The dungeons of Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry stood as cold and grim as they had for time eternal, their labyrinthine corridors devoid of the life that had inhabited them only weeks before. The oppressive silence was broken only by a solitary set of hurried footsteps, as Severus Snape, Potions Master, strode purposefully towards his destination, inky black robes billowing behind him, as though caught in a swift gust of air. It did not take a genius to ascertain his mood was one of complete fury, his lips set in a thin line, his obsidian eyes glittering dangerously in the low torchlight.

For the second time in as many days, his precious research time had been interrupted by Albus’ summons and it was only too clear that the reason for the interruption was Harry Bloody Potter. He had learnt over time to deduce the nature of the requests from the subtleties in the Headmaster’s tone and his choice of words when requesting Severus’ presence. This single minded obsession with the Boy Who Lived To Torment Him was beginning to get irksome, to say the least, especially when it infringed on his personal time and the little freedom he had these days.

As he reached the stone Gargoyle guarding the entrance to his personal Chamber of Hell, he spat out the embarrassingly juvenile password and stepped forwards, curling his fingers in irritation as the circular stairway made it’s ascent. The large, imposing entrance door already stood open, depriving him of the opportunity to vent some of his anger on it’s aged wood. Gliding in, he flashed his most piercing glare at the aged Wizard seated before him, before noting a second presence in the room. Remus Lupin reclined in one of the two leather armchairs before the Headmaster’s desk, hands folded in his lap as he calmly observed the new arrival’s reaction to the situation.

“Headmaster, with all due respect, I cannot see what could possibly be so important that it requires the presence of both myself and Lupin” , Severus said coldly, as his dark eyes bore into those of the man directly opposite him.

Albus Dumbledore leant forward, his chin coming to rest on interlaced fingers as he studied the imposing figure of the one he regarded not only as an employee, but also as a friend. He knew that the reaction to his request would be extremely negative, if not downright explosive, but there was little other choice in the matter. Under such circumstances, discretion was the best policy and if nothing else, Severus knew when to keep his silence, being an infinitely private man by nature. The same could be said for Remus, and regardless of their mutual animosity, the two would have to work together on this one. Gesturing to the chair beside the latter, Albus, with great effort, directed a stern gaze at the Potions Master and spoke in a voice that invited no refusal,

“Severus, please take a seat. You should know by now that I do not make demands of you unless they are of the utmost importance, and this situation is such that it requires the both of you”
Grudgingly, Severus stiffly seated himself, his dark gaze coming to rest on the myriad papers littering the desk, before coming to rest once more on the currently distressed visage of his mentor. After a few uncomfortably silent moments, the Headmaster continued, his voice both steady and yet tired.
“It has come to my attention that sending Harry Potter back to his relatives might not have been the best course of action, considering recent events…” he was cut off sharply by a snort of derision as Severus raised his hands skywards,

“Please, Albus, are you telling me the Golden Boy can’t survive a few months without the simpering attention of his many admirers?”

Albus, having anticipated some such outburst, unlaced his fingers and placed both his wrinkled hands flat upon the smooth wood of his desk, intently staring at the other, until Severus relented and resigned himself to hearing the full story.
“As you are aware, Harry was to be retrieved from his relatives in three day’s time, and taken to Headquarters for the remainder of the holidays. Remus owled him to inform him of such, only to receive this in return. ”
A crumpled sheet of parchment was pushed across the desk and Severus leant forwards to peruse the contents, his lip curling in disgust at the barely legible scrawl. Even by Potter’s standard, the quality was appalling and he did his best to ignore the stilted wording of the note, pushing it back towards the Headmaster,

“I do not see why this is reason to remove me from the little peace I get all year, Albus. So what? Potter is obviously being praised and pampered like a prize pet by his relatives and has no wish to be removed from that comfort”. Even as he spoke the words, Severus knew from his recall of what he had seen of the boy’s memories, that this could not be the case, but it was far easier to maintain his hatred than to start feeling pity. He glanced sharply to his right as Remus, for the first time in the duration, added his own voice to the discussion, “For your information, Severus, Harry has never been pampered or spoilt to any degree by those relatives of his; far from it, in fact. Had you seen his response to having had to spend so long there last year, you might realise how totally unlike him this note is. The fact is, Harry hates living with the Dursleys.”

Amber eyes bore into black as he spoke, each caught up in a battle to see who would look away first, until a voice interrupted and each returned their attention to Albus , who showed no amusement at the display, “I am more disturbed by the fact I received this very morning a letter from Petunia Dursley, regarding Harry’s behaviour these past few weeks and her wish that he be removed, lest she get the blame for his condition. It would seem that young Harry is not coping well with the loss of Sirius.”. Dumbledore broke off, removing his half moon spectacles to rub at his eyes, before looking intently at Severus, a look of utmost sorrow glazing his features as he spoke more quietly,

“I fear we’re losing him, Severus.”

Hmmmm I wonder what Dumbledore means by "I think we're losing him". I hope Harry will be ok, this is explaining his strange letter to stay with the Durselys a bit more. I will read more next time I'm back. Thanks again.