Dusk Falls (A Harry Potter Fanfic)

Part 2: The Forest

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry potter. That belongs to the lovely J.K Rowling. This plot belongs to me. Cheers~

Harry's POV:

It was the soft pitter patter of rain that woke Harry hours later. He sat up gingerly, scattering the small woodland creatures that had been laying on him. Harry instantly felt cold, missing the warmth those small bodies had provided. Shivering, he took in his surroundings.

Honestly, he was surprised he was even alive. Last he remembered, Dumbledore was trying to kill him in Diagon Alley. How did he get to the forest? And what forest was this?

Nothing looked familiar, so he hadn't been here before. Still, it felt like home. The first home he had ever really had. Sure, Sirius had loved him, but he had never had the chance to call Grimmauld Place home before Sirius had died. This felt like home. Like he could stay here forever. Something here touched him deeply and contentment washed over him despite his injuries. Not his contentment however, but the forest's. A soft sense of deep soil and growing things. Of the joy fresh rain brought. This forest was... happy. It was the oddest thing Harry had ever felt.

A small, glowing ball of blue fire caught his attention. Then another. And another. Each winking into existence after the other. They softly alighted on rain drenched leaves, over exposed roots, hiding in the crook of trees. Too many to count. They formed a trail leading deep into the lush woods. As he watched, the first one flickered in welcome and vanished. It appeared again a tiny bit further away, as if beckoning him to follow.

Will-o-whisps. Harry thought. That's what those are.

He was torn. Everything Harry had ever heard of will-o-whisps claimed they were evil creatures, leading travelers from safe paths and to their demise. They were lost souls. Damned to spend eternity flitting between heaven and hell. Gazing at the small creature, Harry could feel no malice. It felt happy, like a small energetic puppy. Eager to help and guide. Wanting nothing more than to assist him. It was a small fox that decided for him.

It yipped at him and bounced over to the whisps, watching him to make sure he followed. A second one nudged his leg until he tentatively stepped forward. They and the whisps guided a shivering and wet Harry through the forest on a winding path, almost a deer trail; the foxes playing and dancing with the whisps, ignoring the rain and wet.

Wherever they were leading him, Harry hoped it was dry. The last thing he needed right now was hypothermia and he was getting quite chilled. He also needed to see how badly he was hurt after his encounter with Dumbledore. Nothing was broken at least. Unless you counted a rib or two. He could tell that much after all the times he had been injured. He was more concerned about his head wound. He had hit the brick wall pretty hard. Enough to make him bleed from it. Harry could feel the drying blood on his head, crusting despite the rain.

Another yip caused him to look up from where his gaze had fallen to the forest floor. In the predawn gloom, Harry could make out a building of sorts. It was positively ancient. Once it would have been a tiny, sturdily built, cottage with gingerbread moldings and a wood slate roof. Time had eroded away most of the decorative features, leaving only the bare bones of four walls and no door. A massive tree had sprouted and grown right through the roof, it's massive branches filling the space.

Harry smiled as he realized the trail of will-o-whisps lead right up to the doorway. So they had been trying to help him. He would have to remember that.

"Thanks." He whispered to them. They all flashed happily and vanished. The foxes also yipped and trotted off, most likely back to there den to get out of the rain.

Harry cautiously stepped into the decrepit building. The inside was surprisingly dry with only the occasional drips finding their way through the thick leaves overhead. A carpet of moss covered the floor in one corner, thick fallen leaves blanketing the remaining floor. Small creatures and bugs scattered as he stepped through their leafy home. Not that the bugs bothered him. He had long since gotten used to spiders and the like when he lived under the stairs back at the Dursley's.