A/N �This fic was inspired by a comment made on maruadersmap at livejournal.com, but I forget the details. However the plot bunny created has many relatives, so this could be the start of yet another series. And if you are interested this is NOT slash, especially not of the SS/HP variety (although the possibility is there for later stories). Don�t forget plz r/r! Constructive criticism is more then welcomed, flames will be used to toast marshmallows.
Harry Potter and the Poison Pen Letters
A Disturbing Dream
Harry Potter hated night time, probably more than he hated his relatives the Dursleys. But no childish fear of the dark fuelled this hatred; it was something much worse.
Ever since leaving the secure sanctuary of Hogwarts Castle and returning to the barren boredom of number four Privet Drive, Harry had been plagued with nightmares. It might have been better if these horrors were mere fiction dreamt up by an overwrought mind, but they weren�t. The dreams were real, actual events that Harry had had the dubious pleasure of witnessing the year before during the fated Tri-Wizard Tournament. And that made everything so much harder to take.
Tonight�s dream, as always, had started off as something pleasant, but was about to take a turn for the worse.
"Quidditch practice is in five minutes, Harry, here�s your broom." Ron turned to Harry and smilingly held out Harry�s Firebolt. As soon as Harry�s hand had a firm hold on the shaft he felt the familiar tug of a portkey and the Gryffindor Dormitory dissolved as Harry was pulled forwards through whirls of colour.
Staggering sideways slightly, Harry managed to keep his feet as he arrived in a dimly lit hallway. Looking around Harry could see a large sweeping staircase in front of him, and a door framed by large mullioned windows behind. Every surface was covered by dust, but there were many tracks here and there. Some headed towards a door that was slightly ajar; others lead up the stairs. The tracks were not just made by human feet, there were the winding tracks of a large snake also. Suddenly Harry became aware of the throbbing pain in his scar, and it hit him where he was. He was at the Riddle House. That meant Voldemort, and it sounded like he was displeased with someone as just then that someone started screaming. The high pitched sound was coming from somewhere beyond the door.
Walking forwards Harry approached the door and as he got nearer he could see there was a long corridor beyond. Slipping through the gap Harry made his way towards a pair of torches that had been attached to the wall some distance down it. Halfway down the corridor the screaming stopped, and Harry could hear a broken voice begging for forgiveness. He didn�t know what chilled him more, the knowledge that it was Professor Snape or the fact that he was begging.
"Silence!" The high cold voice of Voldemort overrode Snape�s pleas, "when you are worthy of my forgiveness you shall receive it! Now I want you to bring me the name of the new Dark Arts teacher, and this time you will NOT fail me, understand?"
"Yes, Master." Snape�s voice had none of the usual bite to it that Harry well remembered; he actually sounded terrified.
The short silence that had fallen was broken again by Snape�s screams as Voldemort backed up Snape�s understanding with more of the Cruciatus curse. Snape was still screaming when Harry drew level with the torches and found that they flanked a large wooden door. The door stood open and revealed the sight of Snape prostrate in front of an ornately carved chair containing the skeletal form of Lord Voldemort. Beside it cowered the unmistakable form of Wormtail; his silver hand glinting in the torchlight. The chair had its back to Harry and the door, and in front of it was a semi-circle of cloaked and masked Death Eaters.
Once Voldemort was finished with Snape two of the larger Death Eaters moved forward and picked up his broken and unconscious form and dragged him back from the chair. Harry couldn�t see Voldemort�s expression but the Death Eaters shifted nervously in front of their Master.
"Lucius," Voldemort hissed, beckoning with a long skeletal finger. And Lucius Malfoy hastily stepped forward and knelt to kiss the hem of Voldemort�s robes. "As my faithful servant is no longer with us, and my spy had failed me, I have a task for you Lucius. We must arrange for the re-cleansing of our noble house�"
Harry would have stayed to hear more, but at that moment he felt a cold breath of air on his neck and eyes watching him from behind. Whirling to face the foe, Harry came face to face with Nagini, Voldemort�s pet snake. Before Harry had a chance to defend himself Nagini lunged and bit him on his left wrist. As the fangs sank into his flesh the world around him swam and faded.
Harry awoke and blinked up at the ceiling of his bedroom at the Dursleys, his breathing coming in short gasps. His scar still throbbed but his wrist was unmarked, and despite the thin sheen of sweat covering him he felt perfectly fine; the bite hadn�t been real but the dream had.
Once his breathing was back to normal, Harry got up and by the light of his lamp wrote a hurried message to professor Dumbledore telling him all he had seen. The image of professor Snape screaming at Voldemort�s feet was still vivid in his memory, and Harry knew that it would be something he would not easily forget. After finishing the note, Harry looked at the clock. It read four thirty but he wasn�t tired, so Harry decided to get some more of his homework out of the way.
For the second year running the Dursleys had allowed Harry to keep his school things in his room. This was because when he and Uncle Vernon had arrived at Privet Drive at the beginning of the holidays they had found a large black dog waiting for them in the driveway. Aunt Petunia had been most unwilling to allow the animal in the house, but once Harry had told them it was his godfather in disguise, they had left well alone in fear for their lives.
Sirius had only been able to stay for a few days, but they had been enjoyable ones. Everyday they had gone into a field behind Privet Drive, Sirius, or Snuffles as Harry had called him in public, had very much enjoyed fetching sticks and lazing in the July sunshine with his godson. Harry had welcomed the chance to talk with his godfather away from the distractions of Hogwarts and the previous year�s preoccupation with surviving the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
~*~*~*~
When Hedwig arrived with the sunrise, Harry was more than half way through his Divination homework on the flight patterns of birds. He�d been watching a flock of common sparrows flitting about over the roof of number eight and had decided that today would be a bad day for making decisions, when she swooped across the road and forced the flock to flit off somewhere else.
Hedwig flew through the open bedroom window and dropped the letter she had been carrying on the desk. Gratefully she accepted the owl treat Harry offered her before flying into her cage for a drink.
The letter was from Ron. Since the end of the previous term Harry had received a letter almost everyday. Even the twins had written to him, telling him about their latest inventions and thanking him profusely for the Tri-wizard money he�d given them. The note was brief, but it contained a cutting from the Daily Prophet headlined �Controversy at the Ministry�
The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, today announced publicly that the rumours concerning He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named are lies, fabricated to induce mass hysteria.
The rumours that have abounded since the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and the disappearances of two senior members of the Ministry, it is rumoured, have their origins in Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The respected wizard and veteran of the Dark Lord�s last reign of terror reportedly announced to the whole school that Cedric Diggory, a sixth year pupil at the school, had been killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named after an undisclosed error during the Third and final Task of the Tournament, held at Hogwarts, in which he was competing alongside Harry Potter.
It is unclear exactly how this could be possible as many sources firmly believe that what remains of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is currently hiding somewhere in Albania.
Harry put down the cutting and sighed. Having witnessed just how unwilling to accept the obvious Fudge had been after the Third Task, he wasn�t surprised that it had come to a public denial of the truth also.
Not for the first time, Harry wondered just who the �old crowd� were; Sirius had refused to discuss the mission Dumbledore had sent him on, saying only that professor Lupin sent his regards. And also what they were doing to alert people to the danger, because whatever it was it didn�t seem to be working.
Whilst the wizarding press had kept a profound silence on the matter until yesterday�s comment�s, the muggle press had been full of mysterious disappearances, burnt out houses and funny lights in the sky. There had even been a severe train crash outside Paddington station, although that could have just been an accident considering the state the railways were in. But whatever the causes of these things they had got even John Major, the muggle Prime Minister, worried. With another heavy sigh, Harry gave the letter for Dumbledore to the refreshed Hedwig and got up to have his usual early morning shower.