Wishmaster

Chapter One - Defilement


Panting, Harry heaved the salty sea air into his lungs until the dizziness subsided. A gentle breeze ruffled his black tangle of locks, adding to the calming effect of the waves as he allowed the images of his detour into Voldemort’s mind replay inside his own. Like an old movie the pictures flickered on the insides of his eyelids before he abruptly snapped them open. He knew.

"Shit"

His scar prickled and Harry realised that soon his only remaining option would be closed off also, rising to his feet, he paused to beat off some of the dirt from his tattered jeans and gazed for one last time at the grave he had been kneeling on. Carefully he finished engraving the stone at the head of the burial and turned back to the small cottage behind him, his mind full of the terrible and fascinating things that had taken shape as he had sunk deeper into the earth.

The slender figure twisted on the spot and the garden was empty except for the golden rays of morning that came seeping over the rim of the world. The wind picked up a little and sighed mournfully as the rays lit up the inscription upon the headstone :

Here Lies Dobby, A Free Elf.

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The shrieking shack was strangely forlorn in the early light, as if the last few years had sucked all the menace out of it, leaving it as empty as any other abandoned building in the world. Harry felt a twinge of guilt as the boards covering the shacks back window caved in before his hex. Quickly he vaulted over the dust and dirt covered sill and paused as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The stale, musty smell of the house crowded in on him as he stumbled over to the entrance of the secret tunnel, his boots kicking up little clouds of choking filth as he went. Again he paused, remembering briefly the last time the tunnel had been used, when he had first met Sirius...

The prickling in Harry’s forehead intensified. Without further delay he jumped into the open maw of the passage and began to scramble along its gullet, unmindful of the muddy skin his clothes acquired in the process. He wondered if he was doing the right thing, Bill and Fleur and the others would be anxious if they found him gone and Harry’s heart constricted at the thought of their angry faces when, and if, he returned. Panting, he sped up, the thought of what he was going to do making him nauseous.

"I’m sorry" He panted, his heart racing "I have too...I’m sorry"

Harry’s scar pulsed angrily and for a moment the swift outline of an all too familiar building darted over his consciousness like a swallow diving into flight. He sped up, and a minute later saw daylight as he reached the roots of the whomping willow. Again, Harry paused. He knew he was neck and neck with Lord Voldemort himself but this was his last chance. In this tunnel at the mouth of the willow, was his last chance to turn back, possibly his last chance between life and death. In his mind Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes watched him over the tips of his old, thin fingers, hands clasped as if praying.

" I have to" Harry whispered softly, his heart thumping in his chest " I can't let him have it... the things he'd do..."

Tensing himself like a spring, Harry leaped up through the mouth of the tunnel and into the calm stillness of the Hogwarts grounds.

Immediately he turned to his right and pressed a knot in the old tree's trunk. The knot depressed, oddly like a button, and the whomping willow shuddered and became still. Straightening, Harry stretched and began to sprint towards the edge of the lake, his heart now working painfully in his chest. His scar was throbbing almost as much as his pulse now and as he looked up to see the white shape of Dumbledore’s tomb looming closer in the early light, his eyes filled with liquid guilt. Images of the old headmasters funeral came back to him. The sunlight, the golden chairs, the haunting lament of fawks in hours after the old mans fall from the tower. The pulsing in Harry’s head increased and he jammed his hand into his pocket as he ran, reassuring himself with gentle, silvery feel of his most invisibility cloak.

He was there.

As he skidded to a halt, a sense of eerie anticipation that was not his own washed over him. His stomach lurched and fear began to dissolve his innards but there was no time to be wasted, hardly any left to survive. He turned to the white marble monument behind him and pulled out Malfoy’s wand. The tip trembled as it was aimed squarely at the heavy lid of his former headmasters final resting place.

"He’s gone"

He told himself forcefully, bullying himself into remembering an image from the old wizards funeral, a phoenix made of light, bursting from its marble prison, then, more softly he whispered;

" I have to"

With a crack the marble lid split, and, like the curtains of a ghastly display drawing back, the two halves slid off of the tomb and landed on the grass with almost identical dull thuds.

Sobbing openly now, Harry staggered to the tomb, his eyes almost defiantly shut. His hands met the monuments cold, unforgiving surface and he forced himself to look at the lifeless form of his mentor, thanking the heavens that tears blurred his vision.

" Forgive me" He gasped.

And with a jerky spasmodic movement he snatched up the Elder Wand from Dumbledore’s lifeless fingers, just as the eerie anticipation inside of him swelled to a triumph that was not his own. His scar seared.

A high cold laugh sounded softly behind him as Lord Voldemort stepped seemingly out of nowhere, his eyes glittering with vicious triumph.

" Well done Potter, well done"

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Authors Note : Is the pace of this chapter too fast? Are some parts too slow? If you have something to say then I want to hear it and your constructive critisism is the most helpful thing you can give me :)

xxwhiterage - thank you for reveiwing so soon and giving me an extra boost of creativity, chapter one up only a few hours after the prolouge! :D thank you also for the spelling corection, I think you will find that I havent made that particular mistake THIS time. lol.