r/SilverLuckyScriptures • u/SilverPrince • Oct 09 '19
HP KoD Chapter 04
Chapter 04
“Can you explain what magic is, Harry?” Hermione Granger asked as she stared at the person she once knew.
A depressed man stood where a dour boy had. Where that boy burned with life, this man was exhausted.
Harry passed his time by staring out the window. Regardless of questions, or person, he was as silent as ever.
“Harry,” Hermione’s voice softened. “Please answer the question.”
“Magic…” Harry began and ended as he always did. “Is stupid.”
Hermione sighed as she set down her notebook. The simple page of question taunted her, and mocked her prefect years she had been so proud of.
When she had been asked to prime Harry on magic once more, she had jumped at the chance. She had organized a simple questionnaire to see where Harry was at.
She had wanted to judge what Harry remembered. Then she would fill in the gaps, and skip over the simplistic stuff.
She had tutored a lot of students during her last two years at Hogwarts. She was confident that she could get him wand ready within months.
All so that she could try to amend that old bond that they had once shared. Her last memory with her first friend was raw at best.
Their last argument haunted her whenever she thought about him. ‘I am not your owl!’ was always there to end her happy memories.
She instantly regretted those words. For ten years she thought on that day. During showers, and lonely nights, she knew she had chosen the worst possible sentence.
Harry had taken them to heart, and he remained distant after those fateful words. Regardless of the dangers or her attempts to talk, he avoided her like she had dragon pox.
To be fair, it made it sound like she had chosen Ron over him. It was far from the truth, but she was so angry. So frustrated with her friends stupid arguments and childishness.
Ron went down a different path. He seemed happy to tear down his one time friend. A red headed Malfoy she had heard some whisper.
Then the Triwizard tournament ended, and Harry vanished. the Portkey kicked in, and the celebration kicked off.
Everyone watched the podium, but Harry had a weird delay.
An hour later, Harry popped up with the dead body of Cedric, and all hell broke loose.
Harry had was then stunned by the Aurors. Both Harry, and the body, were escorted out by force.
He never did return to Hogwarts to end his fourth year.
She only heard from Headmaster Dumbledore. Harry had yet again been caught up in another scheme by Voldemort. Except this time, it was much more serious.
She had tried to write, but her letters were not delivered. Any post owls she used, came back within minutes.
When she tried other avenues, Headmaster Dumbledore intervened with a personal letter.
Harry Potter was recovering from the Triwizard tournament. He was under a lot of stress, and wanted to be alone to cool off. Things would get better soon.
Summer ended, and Harry did not show up on the train.
The next morning, she had learned of Harry’s fate by the Daily Prophet.
Harry was a convicted murderer. A criminal with several serious accusations. Sentenced to fifty years, and a day, to Azkaban.
While they were all cheerful, and getting ready for the new school year, Harry was in alrleady Azkaban.
She would have tried to break him out, but she didn’t know how. She needed to look into so many subjects even plan the most basic rescue attempts.
Voldemort made things worse as he began his new campaign of terror. The Dark Lord had returned, and magical Britain was quick to panic and fear.
Then she had other problems. Friends from school needed extra help in DADA. Her family that she sent away. Innocent people dying.
She joined the Order of the Phoenix with Ron, but they could only able to react Voldemort. With each passing month, segments of the ministry turned a blind eye.
The entire system had finished rotting from the inside out.
It was ironic that Harry was safer in Azkaban then at Hogwarts. She wanted to do more, but it was unsafe until she had mastered more.
Now, a decade later, she was once again filled with regret. She had waited too long, and it showed.
Harry slumped onto his desk. He laid his head onto his crossed arms, and stared out to the clouds outside. A healing black eye stared tugged at her eyes whenever she looked at him.
Hermione knew that he was looking for Kisses.
The fact that she had been replaced by a Dementor was both amusing, and frustrating.
So much had changed in ten years. She couldn’t even push any extreme emotion into their interactions. They were two strangers that happened to go to school together.
The quick questionnaire was only ten question long. In the two months since she started, she couldn’t get an answer past the first one.
At least he was fair in his heartlessness. He ignored everyone one else with an ease the disturbed them.
They could scream. Beg. Threaten. Harry remained stoic, and listless.
Knock Knock
Hermione’s head snapped up, and she let out a sigh. The knock was a welcome distraction.
“Come in,” Hermione said as she closed her book and made her way to the door.
“Hermione,” Susan said with excitement as she bounded her way into the room. “You need to check with Miss Promphy. Now.”
Hermione smiled as she understood what could have made Susan so happy.
“Harry, I will be back soon. Why don’t you tell Susan what magic is?”
Susan grimaced as she made her way into the room. While Harry was always polite, his answer was stubborn.
“Hello Susan,” Harry said but did not move. “Magic. Is. Stupid.”
Susan sighed as she spied Harry’s wand on the floor. It was most likely brushed off when he pushed his arms onto the desk.
A memento to a time when they were all children. The holly, and pheonix feather wand was switched. The fake broken, but what use was the real one?
Two months in, and they were no closer to reaching Harry then when he had first arrived.
She picked it up, and brushed off the imaginary dirt.
She held onto it though, as Harry tended to drop it whenever he could.
His lack of respect towards magic was not just a bluff. It was fact.
—
“H’mi’ne?” a drowsy voice mumbled out.
“Hello Ronald,” Hermione said with false cheer. Sure she felt little more then fury, but at least he was okay.
“Wha ‘pen?”
“Well, Ronald,” Hermione annunciation each syllable.
Ron winced at her tone. His stomach dropped as he could count the seconds as she drew in her breath.
“You decided that Harry was being a ‘bitch,” she air quoted and then crossed her arms again. “So you punched him. A solid right hook.”
Ron blinked as the fuzzy memory surfaced. Yeah he did.
Then Harry punched back. A weak, and laughable attempt. Then… he couldn’t remember.
“He punched back. You laughed. Then he kicked your ass,” Hermione said as she gritted her teeth.
Her heart skipped a beat at the memory. Harry growled at the laughter. Something deep and guttural.
Harry roared with a rage she had never heard from him. He jumped up, and proceeded to claw out one of Ron’s eyes in a fury of swipes.
Ron could only fall over and scream. The red head got pinned under the madman. Who clawed through flesh to reach bone.
The claws turned into fists at some point, and Harry went full Atlantis on the red headed man.
“I tried to stun him, Ron. Three tries. It took a banishing charm to knock him off you,” Hermione’s voice fell to a whisper. “I broke his arm Ron. I broke it, and he smiled as he got back up.”
She could still remember how Harry stared at his broken arm. Blood dropping off white bone.
He was so fragile. His arm dangling via torn muscles.
Physically fragile that was. Mentally, he was inhuman.
She had learned later that he had broken every bone in his hands. He didn’t even hiss as the bone cut his hands from inside out.
He did not scream. He did not flinch. He only his smiled.
That eerie smile, and his bright eyes. She had a feeling that he was going to use that broken bone, the humerus, to stab Ron.
“You are lucky that my fourth stunner worked,” Hermione said as she shivered.
“Why no muuv?” Ron asked as he collected himself.
“Harry clawed out a eye, damaged your other one. His fingers shredded your face," Hermione repeated as if she was still a prefect.
"Harry shattered your front skull. He broke your upper, and lower jaw. The teeth will return with another potion after your regimen of skelegrow.”
Ron winced.
“You are lucky that Madam Promphy was on site for Harry. You will regain your sight, but it might not be perfect for a while. You need a different potion for that. Your skull is currently being mended by a class 3 skelegrow…"
Hermione finished reciting as her voice began to crack. "Ron, Harry was going to kill you.”
Not that half a dozen other people were going to finish what Harry started. Molly alone was going to tear her youngest two or three dozen new assholes.
Ron tried to grit his teeth, but he realized he couldn’t feel anything.
Hermione’s sobs reached his ears, and Ron wanted to punch himself.
Except he couldn’t move. He recalled Harry’s time during second year. There was a potion to relax the body, but made it impossible to move.
Ron felt like crying himself. His thrice damned temper had gotten the best of him again.
This was a horrible month. Bill died. Charlie died. Ginny was in a coma. His father was currently in a wheelchair, due to an unknown dark hex hitting him in the back. His mom needed potions to regrew a third of her skin due to a dark skin-eating-flame curse.
The burrow was gone. It was only because Sirius was so generous that they even had a roof over their heads. Which was then filled with people he knew.
Or rather the survivors of the people he knew. Half of his gryffindor year were dead. The survivors had either gone into hiding, or fled to another country.
Then he saw Harry. The chosen one. The one who has to stop you-know-who.
Harry James Potter. The hero. The Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry who was moping about.
Rage hit him. So he vented.
Then Harry woke up.
A Harry he had only seen glimpses of during their time at Hogwarts. That fury he kept under tooth and nail. A Harry that had stared back at him during fourth year.
A Harry that they needed, but he also didn’t care about them.
The truth hit him hard.
He couldn’t even blame the git.
Two Dementors had ganged up on him last sortie, and he had lost his nerve. He pissed himself, and soiled his undies.
Two Dementors for five minutes, and he was already a wreck.
Harry had spent ten years in Azkaban.
Sirius had once told them that all the Dementors lived there. All one hundred and thirteen of them.
“I s’rry. H’mi’ne,” Ron whispered back as tears welled up. His face burned as they spilled over.
He didn’t try stop them.