Harry Potter and the Circle's End by madscientist
H/Hr
SPOILERS: Books 1 - 6
Contents: NC17
Description: Picks up two weeks after the events of HBP. However reluctantly Harry has inherited a quest that will determine the fate of the world. Rating upped for later chapters
Published: 11/08/05 Updated: 06/10/06 Status: Completed
Genre: Action/Adventure / Drama Words: 423240 Chapters: 61


Chapter 1: A Fortnight of Longing

************************#4 Privet Drive******************************

The night outside was sweltering as Harry stared vacantly at the lampposts and dimly lit houses of Privet Drive. This summer, unlike years before, had been a wet one. The air was still dense and muggy from the rain that had poured down this afternoon. A brief flicker of wind rustled a disheveled stack of parchments on his desk even though the night was still and dead. Harry sighed and glanced absently at an eleven-inch holly rod sitting propped against a large, framed photograph, on his battered and gouged nightstand, of which at least one of the gouges had been the fault of his head getting in the way of the nightstand. In the photo a tall, freckled, redheaded young man was standing with his arm around the shoulders of a brown eyed, honey-haired girl. Her curly locks were falling forward over her eyes, hiding one from view, but the other, the one that could be seen, was glancing worriedly over at Harry's doppelganger.

In the pictures, a small, half smile was decorating his lips as he stood slightly to the side. His hands were deep in the pockets of the jeans that could be seen under his partially open robes. Harry sighed again as Ron smiled hugely in the picture and gave him a thumbs-up. He rose with a thoughtful expression on his face and crossed to the window. In the photo, Hermione's eyes tracked him all the way.

He stood at the window, looking out at the dark houses of muggles who did not know that unless the despised delinquent nephew of Vernon's pulled off a feat worthy of Merlin, that their comfortable, two car, suburban home...normal lives would be shattered. In prescient flashes of emerald and screams of terror and pain, the scene faded to another night, a night not that long ago, when all hope had been shattered, when all had seemingly been lost.

"Avada Kedavra" a swarthy, goateed, man hissed and a green bolt snapped across the intervening space and the man, the great man that had defined the side of light for a hundred and fifty years fell to a traitor. Harry stared; his body shielded by the cloak as Snape grabbed his precious Slytherin prodigy and ran.

Harry sighed again and absently ran his hands up and down his arms, the air had suddenly taken on a chilly tone as he thought of that the night. Mum, dad, Sirius Dumbledore...who else must fall for me. Will it be Ron, Remus...Hermione next? Absently he waved his hand towards his wand and it flew to his subconscious call. For even as he had been thinking, moping, trying to deal, he was watching a curious sight, and for Harry Potter, curious sights were not always welcome ones. One by one, the pinpricks of light of each streetlamp and porch light were jumping from their bulbs and floods, slicing across the night and vanishing as if they were being placed in a box.

Harry's eyes scanned the night, the tip of his wand following them. Finally the last light vanished and darkness, total darkness settled across the lawns of Privet Drive. Nothing happened for a long moment and then, BOOM, BOOM. A pair of loud, thunderous knocks sounded in the house.

"WHO THE RUDDY HELL IS THAT?" Vernon screamed as his elephantine footsteps stamped down the hall from the master bedroom to pause outside of Harry's door. "It better not be one of your freaks." He growled as he started off again, the floor was slightly quaking at his passage. Harry crossed to the door, and rattled it. It was locked, of course, with many chains and deadbolts blocking his passage to the hall. A tapping at his window drew his attention from the door, and in a rush of almost silent wings, a great, snowy-white owl flew across the room and dropped a short missive onto Harry's waiting hand. Even as he caught the paper, a brief flash of...something swept across the house, causing the short hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. His eyes flicked to the paper in his hand:

The Ministry cannot punish what it cannot see.

The note was unsigned, but that would have been a waste of ink. After six years of seeing those neat characters correcting his papers and filling passed notes, he knew that writing as well as his own. With a wry grin, he flicked his wand at the door, and like some odd eighteenth century machine, the many locks on the door clicked, whirred and rattled and the door fell open. Harry crept out onto the landing just as Vernon flung open the door.