Dark Clouds
Chapter 3
By Kinsfire
After a meal paid for by Charles and a very long and annoying train ride with several transfers, Harry finally arrived in Little Whinging. He made his way to Number Four Privet Drive and put on a rather nasty smile as he contemplated what was to come. He knocked.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally, after several minutes had passed, he scowled and looked for the rock that they always hid a key under. Digging for it slightly, he pulled out and cleaned off the key in question. He then unlocked and opened the front door to find a dark and empty household.
He flicked on a light and walked deeper into the house. Looking down, he realised that Petunia had finally replaced that damned carpet that she was always making him scrub by hand. Given what had been staining it when he’d last seen this house,he wasn’t terribly surprised that there was a brilliant white carpet in the place where blood had last been staining the floor.
He headed up the stairs to check Dudley’s second bedroom. I really need to get to Gringott’s soon, but I want to make sure that everything was removed. Then I can just get rid of my frustrations on the place. He popped open the door in a manner he’d always wanted to — he kicked it. The door slammed open, and he wa surprised to see dust rising in swirls. He walked over to his desk and blew the dust aw, surprised to be blowing dead spiders away as well, the dust had gotten so thick. He was utterly astonished to find his wand still sitting on his desk, and his trunk in the corner.
Why is this stuff still here? Why didn’t anyone take it with them? Maybe they figured I really did want to murder the fat bastard and washed their hands of me immediately. Unbidden, his mind went back to the last day of real freedom he’d had.
He'd been working carefully on what homework that he could when he heard Vernon explode into the house. "BOY!!!" he bellowed, and Harry sighed.
Wonder what idiocy he's blaming on me now? Maybe he got rained on coming home? Harry stood and trudged to the door, opening it and walking out to be faced by Vernon, the most interesting shade of puce that Harry had ever seen.
"I am tired of it: you and your freakishness! You had something to do with it, I'm sure of it! I've had enough, and I'm putting an end to it!" With that statement, Harry suddenly found himself facing down something that the phrase 'hand cannon' could be used to describe. He ducked as the first explosion burst past his ear, and his hearing was abruptly replaced with a high pitched squeal. He thought about running and diving out his window, but he realised that all it would do would make it easier for Vernon to shoot him, this time in the back. He had only one real chance, so he began to wrestle with Vernon and they somehow reached the top of the stairs.
He was never sure how, but there was another explosion and suddenly Vernon was putting all his considerable weight upon Harry. Harry tried to hold him up to get out from beneath him, but Vernon's weight was too great. The both fell helter-skelter down the stairwell and ended up in a heap on the floor below. Harry lost consciousness as he felt something crack in his chest.
He awoke in a hospital with four policemen around him. Unlike the usual police Harry had seen, these men were all armed. "What's happened?" he asked quietly as he sat up in the bed.
"Your uncle is dead, and you'll be held on suspicion of murder once the doctor clears you to be released," was the only response he received.
He sat back heavily. But I … he had the gun, and … oh my God …
It was an hour later when they came into his room with a wheelchair and prison clothes, since they'd cut his old clothing off of him.
What followed was a blur - them questioning him about his uncle's death and confronting him with the fact that it was Vernon that had the fatal wound - the only wounds that Harry had were from falling down the stairs after Vernon was shot.
It was then that he snarled out, "I'm betting that Aunt Petunia and Duddikins are saying that I bought the gun and waited for Vernon to come home, or some such crap."
The detectives shared a look and then leaned forward. "Exactly, Mister Potter. Mind telling us how you know exactly what their story is?"
"Why should I? You already have your minds made up. I'm an inmate at the St. Brutus school, aren’t I? I'm the one who keeps beating up children and trying to blame it on poor Piers Polkiss and those wonderful upstanding boys. Right? That's what Aunt Petunia told you?
"Fuck it, and fuck you. I'm guilty. Does that make you happy? It's what everyone wants to hear. You have a nice, solved case, I can go to prison like everyone wants, and Petunia can collect Vernon's life insurance. Give me the confession, and I'll sign it." He continued yelling in uncontained rage. "Got any other unsolved crimes? I'll plead guilty to those too! Petunia will certainly tell you that I did them, and that's all anyone needs!" He calmed down somewhat. "Just give me the damned confession and I'll sign it. I'm used to this by now."
He was stared at for a long moment by both detectives. Finally, one of them spoke up. "Let's talk again tomorrow, Mister Potter. In the mood you're in right now, you'd sign a confession saying you'd murdered Queen Elizabeth, even though she's alive and well. We'll give you some time to calm down and talk again later." He was led back to his cell in the local lock-up, where he lay down and somehow drifted off to sleep.
He was awakened a short time later by two men coming into his cell. "Mister Potter? We're here to move you to a more secure facility."
"Not that I'm arguing, but why would I need a more secure facility?"
"You-Know-Who can find you much easier in here."
He blinked at them. "So the Ministry is jumping in to protect me?"
"You could say that. We've already gotten everything taken care of. Just take hold of this Portkey, and we'll be leaving." Harry touched it, and the familiar 'hook behind the navel' feeling gripped him.
He arrived in the secure ward at St. Mungo's. "You'll be held here to heal while the Muggles work out their case," one of the Aurors said, "and then we'll work from there as to your disposition."
"Okay," he said quietly as he lay down.
The next few days were a blur of boredom and pain as they worked on his broken bones and bruises. He'd been held for roughly a week when the same two Aurors came in and grabbed him roughly. "Well, Mister Potter, it's time to go to your new home."
"What?" was all he had time to ask before the Portkey that he had been handed dropped him on the shore of the North Sea. He was roughly grabbed by the Aurors there and shoved into a boat. Before he knew it, he was a prisoner in Azkaban.
Scrimgeour visited him about a week later. "Well, Potter, even your fame can't help you now. You were tried in absentia for the murder of your uncle and found guilty. The Muggles gave you the death penalty, but we talked them down to life imprisonment in Azkaban. You're here for life, boy, and out of my hair for good. We can prosecute this war the way it's supposed to be done. Not so much fun being Dumbledore's man now, is it?"
Knowing he had nothing to lose, Harry said, "So that's why I'm here. You'll find a reason to kill me at some point, I'm sure. I wouldn't help consolidate your power, so you need me out of the way." He found himself backhanded for that comment.
"I'd watch my tongue, boy. You're in here for the rest of your life. You get too far out of line, and I'll give the authorisation to push you through the Veil." Harry simply scowled at the Minister, who grinned evilly at him. "Well, I have my office and my home to return to. Enjoy the rest of your life, Potter."
Except for the occasional beatings from the Aurors who kept an eye on him, he had no real contact except for those rare occasions when Scrimgeour would come by to gloat and tell him how his supposed friends had turned on him and testified against him when they decided to put him on trial in the wizarding world, both for his uncle's murder and for attempting to foment hysteria. He had protested, but they had simply informed him with no gloating. He was forced to eventually accept it. His days blended into each other, until the day Shacklebolt arrived.
He came to himself again, still staring at his trunk in the corner. Well, they'll learn. They abandoned me. He walked to the front door and opened it to find a group of ten people in Auror robes spread across the lawn.
Well, either there are tracking charms all over me, or they’ve been monitoring the place. Knew I should have hit Gringott’s first. Oh well, time to piss off some people, since I’m not making it out of this one in good condition.
"Ah! I was wondering where you assholes were!" His eyes fell on one of his most frequent torturers and breaker of bones during his stint in Azkaban. "Time for some fun!" He raised his wand and let his anger fuel the Bone Shattering Curse, which erupted from his wand with enough force to actually move him backwards slightly. The beam screamed soundlessly toward the Auror and blew through the man's shield, striking him solidly in the groin. Huh, I wasn't aware you could scream so loudly while inhaling. He fired off several more spells, mostly stunners, as he backed into the house.
He heard someone Apparate six feet behind him and spun to Banish them. They struck the wall hard enough that plaster and bone broke. There was a brief lull in the battle, which he used to pick up the broken Auror and get behind them. As the remaining eight Aurors came into the household by various means, they were disturbed to find one of their own being used as a shield.
"Shoot him," the injured Auror croaked. "Take him down. Take me out if you have to."
"Very noble of you," Harry growled. "At least it would be if the Aurors weren't torturing bastards to start with. You just realise that you get to win yourself an Order of Merlin for bringing in the psychotic Harry Potter, even if it might be posthumously?" He stuck the point of his wand literally into the Auror's ear. "Do you people really think I care? All I know is that if I go back there, all I have to expect is a lifetime of broken bones, cuts, and bruises that take forever to heal. So I'm not going back. And you guys can't kill me - I was the fucking 'Chosen One'. Might want to think twice about pushing me through the Veil or finding a Dementor or hitting me with the Killing Curse or whatever you do to execute pesky innocent men." He scowled. "Oh, sorry, I forgot. I was found guilty in absentia. Forget I said that." He smiled an evil smile. "So, how do we deal with the standoff? I'm already a wanted man for the murder of Vernon Dursley. Do you really think I'm averse to the idea of actually earning my sentence for murder?"
"Put the wand down and we can talk about it, Mister Potter," a female Auror said. "There are still eight of us to one of you. We'll win in the long run, and we don't want you dead."
"Of course not. Then you lose your plaything," he snarled back at her.
"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. No matter what, you're looking at some time for assaulting the Aurors that you have. Is there any way of convincing you to let Dave free and keep the time you'll have to serve down?"
"What do you figure they'll add to my sentence?" he asked quietly. "Five or ten years?"
She nodded at him.
"So after I've died in prison, they'll resurrect me and force me to serve another ten years? I'm already serving a life sentence, you stupid bint! What's another ten years? What's another fifty?" He raised his wand again. "So, what should I cast, a simple 'Stupefy'? Maybe a 'Quiritatio'?"
Everyone winced at the thought of the Shouting Curse being cast in someone's ear, especially when the sound could be heard a mile away when simply cast into the air and would injure those in close proximity. It would be a particularly nasty way to kill the man.
"I could cast the Blasting Curse!" he said with a voice that sarcastically mimicked happiness.
"Why are you so hell-bent on hurting him? He has a family and children."
Harry looked at her and started to respond but then saw something from the corner of his eye. The man in his arms was crying. It was not fear, Harry could tell, but the thought that he might never see his family again. He slumped, let go of his hostage, and let his hands drop to his sides. "Go ahead. I won't do to them what Riddle did to me." He looked up and saw an Auror snarling at him and made no effort to move as the Bludgeoning Curse that struck his head took his consciousness.