Harry Potter and the Guardians of Hogwarts
A/N: Hello everyone. I recently revived my old laptop and found an old fan fic on there. This fan fic was written in 2005 and was never published on any website. I decided to edit it up and post it out there. It's essentially alternate book 6. HBP and DH are pretty much non canon as far as this goes but I have included the odd thing from those books. You'll see side-along apparition in the first chapter, for example.
I'm already working on editing out Chapter 2 and should have that out, at the earliest of next week. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Reviews would be greatly appreciated. Many thanks!
Harry Potter and the Guardians of
Ronald Weasley stumbled over the entwined roots at the base of the oak tree. His robes were tattered, showing skin that was cut and bleeding. His face showed similar tear. Under a tuft of bright red hair, his brow was scarred and muddied, his lip scratched and cheeks muddy. None of this seemed to bother him though. He had come a long way to be here and he wasn't going to give up just like that.
His goal was a small clearing not too far ahead. Though he knew where it was and how to get there, he had been unsure of how long exactly, it would take to get there. Nevertheless he pushed on, for in his view, the goal was worth the struggle it took to get there.
The wind whistled through the trees, sending a much needed breeze through to Ron. The heat of the morning sun was almost too much for Ron to bear yet he persevered nonetheless. Bearing the heat was worth it.
Eventually, the trees began to thin, the air became cooler and whispers could be heard from up ahead, carried through the air so Ron was unsure whether the speaker was right behind him or not. Panting, Ron pushed his way through the final pair of trees and into the clearing.
The clearing was occupied by a small group of robed and masked wizards. Their faces hidden, Ron was unsure as to whether the whispers he had heard on approaching the clearing had been made by them at all. Clearing his head, he approached the tallest robed figure who was not wearing a mask.
Had Ron seen the figure at any other time he was sure he would have ran in fear. The wizards face was pale, a throbbing vein on his chalk white head. His eyes were both lifeless and fiery, the red of the pupils dancing with the sunlight to create an inferno. Voldemort raised his head at the newcomers presence.
'Who are you?' he asked in a firm voice.
'Ronald Weasley.' Ron replied his head held high.
The robed wizards roared with laughter, even Voldemort allowed his mouth a sly curl.
'And what... can I do for you... Ronald?'
Ron's voice cracked as he spoke 'I want to join you.'
No one laughed that time. Voldemort lowered his head and observed Ron, who could feel the red eyes pierce his very soul.
'And what... could you possibly bring us.'
'Information. I've known Harry Potter for five years. I've shared a dormitory with him. He's told me things he hasn't told anyone else. I can give you plenty of information about the Order, about Hogwarts.'
'It is true that having someone so close to Harry would be beneficial. But what else can you offer me? How do I know you believe in our cause? How do I know you're not still attached to your muggle loving family?'
Voldemort spoke softly. But Ron was sure that he was just one mistake from releasing a torrent of anger and rage the like of which he had never seen before.
'I don't care for my family. They've done nothing but berate me since the day I was born. I would have killed them all already if it weren't for the fact that I can use them to get information about the order.'
Voldemort's lip curled upwards slightly once again.
'Very well... Ronald. You will reveal what information you have. With any luck, dear Harry will soon meet an unfortunate end, and it will be all your doing...'
Harry screamed. He turned to the side and with a crunch fell onto the floor. Panting, he turned to see the light from outside just breaking through the curtain. His camp bed squeaked as he sat down on it to catch his breath. His scar prickled with pain and the added migraine he seemed to have was not helping one bit.
A snoring grunt alerted him to Ron's presence in the room, asleep in the early morning. Harry hesitated for a moment, then nudged Ron with his foot.
'Eh.' Ron grumbled turning over, Harry nudged him again.
'What d'you want Harry?'
'I had a dream again.'
Ron sat up almost instantly. His covers rolled down revealing his Chudley Cannons pyjamas.
'Again?' he asked 'What was it this time?'
Harry hesitated, then in a croaky voice said 'You.'
Ron raised his eyebrows. 'Me?'
'You were going to Voldemort. You said you would join him and give him information about me.'
'That's,... that's mental.' Ron said, running a hand through his hair.
'Tell me about it.' Harry said grimly.
There was a brisk knock on the door and Hermione poked her head in. 'Your mother said breakfast is almost ready.'
Before Harry could stop him Ron blurted out 'Harry had a dream again.'
'Again?' Hermione gave Harry a quizzical look.
'Yeah.' Harry said with a sigh. He told Hermione how he had seen Ron give himself to Voldemort. Hermione seemed as horrified as Ron did.
'But you're not- he's not?'
Ron threw his pillow onto the floor making Hermione jump slightly. 'No I'm bloody well not.' he said looking furious.
'Of course not... I mean, sorry Ron.'
'That's the fourth time. First it was Lupin, then Dumbledore, then Sirius...'
Harry stopped. The image of Sirius screaming over and over again was too much to think about.
'You need to start working on your Occlumency again.' Hermione said for what Harry thought was now the tenth time since he had returned to the Burrow.
'It's no good Hermione. I could try all day and I wouldn't get anywhere.'
'Well I'll just leave you to have horrible dreams then shall I?'
Hermione raised her head away from Harry in a vain attempt to ignore eye contact. She was however a poor actor and began to fidget with her hands. There was no way she was going to leave Harry to have horrid dreams. She cared for him too much.
'You should tell Dumbledore. After what happened last year he'd want to know.'
'Who's to say he doesn't already?' Harry muttered.
'What do you mean?' asked Ron.
'Order members come in and out of this house all day. Why wouldn't Tonks or Lupin pass on what they overheard to Dumbledore?'
'Because they respect your privacy. You need to tell Dumbledore.'
'If I tell him will you stop bugging me about it?' Harry asked. Hermione nodded and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't one to go against Hermione, mostly because he was aware how that tended to end , and decided he would send and owl as soon as he had a bit of peace and quiet.
There was a soft knock on the door and Mrs Weasley opened it sticking her head in.
'I heard talking. You know breakfast was ready ten minutes ago? Come on before Arthur eats it all.'
She withdrew, the patter of feet told them that she was making her way downstairs.
Hermione stood and moved to the door herself.
'Tell him Harry.' she said firmly and left.
'That girl,' Ron muttered, retrieving his pillow from the floor and returning it to his bed.
After a quick change, Harry and Ron headed downstairs where Mr Weasley was sat reading the Daily Prophet.
'Morning. Fancy a bit of toast? I think I left the stack around here somewhere...'
His scar was still prickling. The memory was still fresh in his mind.
It began three weeks ago, laying asleep in The Burrow. Lupin turning himself over to Voldemort, having the Dark Mark branded onto his arm. Then a week later, Dumbledore being tortured in The Great Hall. Lupin came for dinner the night after Harry had the dream, and Harry could tell he had not turned himself over to Voldemort or had the Dark Mark branded onto his arm and from reports from Bill, Dumbledore had not been captured either.
The last one, Sirius, surprised Harry more than anything. He had watched Sirius fall through the veil only a month ago and to see him being tortured was both painful and confusing. He could only guess that Voldemort was trying to unhinge him. To break him down. Harry wasn't going to give up without a fight.
Still, at least he wasn't at Privet Drive any more. Number four had turned into a real life hell for him. Not once did either Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon or Dudley speak one word to him. He wasn't fed and was expected to come downstairs and get his own food. The Dursley's simply acted like he wasn't there at all. Years ago, Harry wouldn't have minded too much. But after returning from Hogwarts, there was a horrid emptiness inside him that needed filling. He wouldn't have cared if they had shouted at him as long as he had got something out of them. Luck, however, was on his side. He had barely been there a week when Lupin, Tonks and Moody had come to escort him to The Burrow. One quick side-along apparition later and Harry was safely at the Burrow. Hermione arrived several weeks later.
Not that he wasn't pleased to be back at The Burrow, but the wizarding world had gone through one hell of a change in the week he had been away from it. Fudge was no longer minister, being replaced by Mallory McDonald, a senior member of the Wizengemot. Her firm determined face looked out from the Daily Prophet promising changes to the old system and a no sympathy attitude to any Death Eaters.
Harry had expected the whole war to blow up almost instantly, but surprisingly things had been quiet. It seemed that Voldemort was biding his time. Waiting for the most opportune moment to strike and when he did, the blow would be deadly.
Voldemort withstanding there seemed to be a great deal of distrust in the wizarding world at the moment. Neighbours spied on each other, friends made sure to drink from the other side of the cup. It was all rather depressing. Harry had no reason to believe that anyone of his friends would turn traitor, but that wasn't to say his dreams didn't get to him in small ways. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe he did need to continue with his Occlumency.
'What are you doing today?' Mrs Weasley asked as she placed a plate full of sausages onto the table.
'Quidditch probably.' Ron said using his fork to grab four of the sausages and pile them onto his plate.
'Can you not play Quidditch again?' Hermione groaned 'Can't we go for a walk into the village or something?'
Ron's eyes widened in shock. As if anyone would suggest a walk instead of playing Quidditch.
'We need to practice. We've only got a month left and-'
'You can play Quidditch any time. Let's do something different for a change.'
'We can do both.' Harry said finishing off his tea with a large swig 'Play Quidditch for a few hours, then go for a walk.'
Ron didn't seem sure. Harry was certain that if he had his way, they would be playing Quidditch until the sun went down.
'Well, that sounds fine to me.' Mrs Weasley said 'And what about you Ginny.'
'I'm going to Luna's. She's got a new cat.'
Ron snorted 'Why would you go all the way over to Luna's to see a new cat? Just stay here and watch Crookshanks.'
Ginny glared at Ron. The same glare Mrs Weasley often gave him. Thinking it would be best if he left, he hurried upstairs to grab his broom.
With two people, playing Quidditch was more like playing catch on brooms. Ron started off in goal, giving Harry chances to try and score. Then they switched, Ron throwing apples for Harry to try and catch. Harry didn't miss one.
'You're gonna be caught out sooner or later.' Ron said and he threw two apples in two different directions, Harry zoomed over to grab one and then dived to get the other one.
'How do you do that?' Ron asked amazed. Harry grinned and chucked the apples back at Ron.
'You'll have to try harder next time.' he said with a laugh.
Without warning, Ron fell to the ground.
He was shaking violently. Arms flailing around at either side. Harry noticed that his right arm that bore the scars for the Ministry of Magic, seemed to be glowing. Hermione, who had been reading against a tree while Harry and Ron played, gasped and hurried towards him, Harry landed quickly and tried to pin Ron's arm to his side, a feeble attempt to restrain him.
'Do something!' Hermione screamed.
Thinking quickly, Harry did the first thing that came to his mind. Clenching his fist, he punched Ron straight in the face.
Ron became limp and slumped to the ground. Hermione leaned over him, placing a hand in front of his mouth.
'He's still breathing. Why did you punch him?'
'I don't know, you said to do something so I did. You were no good.'
Hermione glared at Harry but said nothing.
'Come on,' Harry said 'Let's take him inside.'
With Hermione's help they lifted Ron to his feet and carried him slowly back up to the house. Mrs Weasley was setting the dishes to wash and humming as they came in through the back door. She gasped at the sight of Ron.
'What happened to him!?'
'I don't know, he fell of his broom and started shaking. His... arm was glowing.'
Harry wasn't sure whether Mrs Weasley had fully taken in the fact that his arms was glowing. She flung her tea towel over her shoulder and set the plates down with a swish of her wand.
'Bring him in to the front room and lie him on the sofa.'
Avoiding the clutter of chairs in the kitchen, Harry and Hermione slowly inched Ron into the living room and lay him down on the sofa. Mrs Weasley came along with a cold flannel and dabbed it onto his head. There was silence until eventually Ron began to stir.
'Nice catch Harry. What?'
He tried to sit up but a firm finger from Mrs Weasley on his chest made him remain
where he was.
'Are you alright dear?' Mrs Weasley asked.
'What happened? Where am I?'
'You fell off your broom.' Harry said slowly.
'It was weird, you started shaking, you said... 'It's started.''
'Your arm was glowing.'
Ron's eyes widened. 'Arm?'
He raised his right arm. The scars from where the brains had attacked him at the ministry were still clearly visible.
'Why would my arm glow? That's the most... Hang on, I'm not Harry am I?'
Harry raised his eyebrows. 'Me?' he asked.
'Yeah, usually it's you laying where I am. It's always you who has the mental stuff happen to.'
'I'm pretty sure you're you.' Hermione muttered.
There was a sudden stab of pain in Harry's forehead. Gone as quickly as it had come. Then he felt a all too familiar warm feeling of blood on his hand. His right hand still bore the marks of 'I must not tell lies' but there was no blood in sight.
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Last edited by shaun0505; July 20th, 2014 at 3:58 pm.
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