Antiquity's Corollary

Chapter 1

An Unexpected Warning

Disclaimer: All the characters and the world they exist in belong solely to JK Rowling. I love this series and write purely for pleasure.

xxx

Shadowed images darted back and forth, illuminated only by intermittent streaks of colored light streaking past. Voices echoed in the distance, but it was impossible to interpret their meaning. A hazy glow penetrated the back of Harry's mind, and he stirred.

Gasps of discomfort escaped from between his lips, but he was totally unaware of the sounds he emitted. To him, it was an obscure amalgamation of noises that he could not recognize; it was a grating, awful sound.

A hiccup that sounded mysteriously like a sob escaped Harry, and the abruptness of the noise roused him to consciousness. Momentarily unaware of his surroundings, a loud groan escaped him as he thrashed, throwing his arms out to feel the area around him and struggling to understand what was going on.

Slowly gaining awareness, Harry struggled to open his eyes; his lids peeled apart sickeningly, sticky from the residual tears that had been flowing unchecked throughout the night.

As his eyes adjusted to the morning light in the dank bedroom of his relatives' home, he took in all that was around him. It was not much; a desk sat in the corner, the temporary home to the books he had not read throughout the summer. His single, deflated pillow lay on the worn wood floor beneath his bed, a casualty of his nightmares. The window, completely devoid of dressings or decorations, allowed sunlight to stream in unfiltered.

As his vision became focused and clear, Harry reminded himself that the irrational fear he was experiencing was only part of the dream that lingered in his sleepy brain. Eager to shake the feeling, he rolled out of his bed, stripping damp clothes from his body as he registered the uncomfortable feeling of them. The August heat made his poorly ventilated room unbearable; once he had gathered a clean set of clothes, he quickly escaped.

In the hallway, Harry crept quietly down to the lavatory. Per usual, he had awakened long before the Dursleys. Lately, they had a tendency towards summer lie-ins. Harry found that the easiest way to avoid them was to rise long before them; thanks to his perpetual nightmares, it was not difficult to do. A cold shower shocked Harry's brain to attention; when he had finished, he dressed quickly and left the house, relieved to have easily escaped the wrath of his Aunt Petunia and cousin, Dudley, once again. The mornings when he failed to do so had not been easy.

Despite the warning given to the Dursleys at the beginning of the summer, Harry's holidays had not been, by any measure, better than previous ones. Though they were aware of the repercussions that would immediately follow blatant mistreatment, they were no further inclined to treat him any differently than they would a stray dog. It was no mystery how they felt about him; the three malevolent glares that greeted him whenever he entered the room sent a very clear message.

Not that Harry cared, of course. He preferred to be alone.

The shock of Sirius' death had not immediately hit Harry at the beginning of the summer. It had been so sudden that at times, he could almost convince himself it had been a bad dream. He certainly had enough of those to make such an explanation plausible.

However, when he awoke every morning to the same awful feeling of loss, he could not deny that the events of the previous year had truly transpired. Night after night, he was forced to experience it all over again. He repeatedly relived it; watching the spell that had killed his godfather as if in slow motion. Getting dragged away by Lupin, unable to go after the man who had meant so much. Sitting in Dumbledore's office, facing the reality that Sirius was never going to return to him.