Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1: Reaching Out

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

_**A/N: As always, I want to make it clear that I respect J.K. Rowling as a writer, but the HP series was meant for kids. Yes, some of the books later on have semi-mature content in them, but honestly, I've read stuff in the YA section that is much more effective at getting the psychological aspect out there. This series, beginning from after their first year, shows a changed Trio coming back to Hogwarts and going through their adventures. Even Ron will be changed, so don't expect the doofus I've presented him as in other stories of mine. **_

_**This fic is already plotted out throughout the Chamber of Secrets storyline. Also, I can confirm that this time around, I will be pairing Harry with Hermione. Sorry, I just cannot accept Ron and Hermione as a couple. But Ron will have his own romantic endeavors, and I don't plan on him being such an idiot this time. He will be much more driven from the Ron in canon. **_

_**The series title is an allusion to the darkened nature of the wizarding world as far as the Trio is concerned. **_

Darkened Horizons Book 1

The Chamber of Secrets

By

DraconLord

Chapter One:

Reaching Out

"Get these chores done before the Masons arrive, and be sure you don't dawdle," Petunia Dursley snapped at her nephew, who took the list she was thrusting at him calmly, too calmly. Even in the past, there had been a hint of defiance. Had Petunia Dursley had any inkling of human kindness in her, she would have tried to find out what was different, why the boy acted as he did now. But no matter how human she appeared to the outside world, Petunia Dursley only cared about herself; her doting on her useless son (not that she thought of him that way) was to try and make up for what she felt was her own parents' lack of parenting towards her, since they had spent so much time doting on darling Lily. She always ignored the things her parents had done for her, including buying this house she now lived in because Vernon could hardly afford to make such a purchase himself at the time. After all, they had done so very little for her once Lily's true nature had become known, and she wasn't going to acknowledge anything good they did since she saw those times as them attempting to buy her affection.

For his part, Harry Potter did not seem to care about whether his aunt was a bitter old shrew or just a drastically insecure woman who had to make up for what she perceived as her family's failures with her own. He had barely gotten a decent night's sleep since waking up from that three-day coma. According to both the headmaster and the Hogwarts nurse, his core had been dramatically depleted during his efforts to stop Quirrell from taking possession of the Philosopher's Stone, which Quirrell intended to use to bring Voldemort back to full power (and into immortality). But Harry had begun to realize the headmaster and the nurse were not being as truthful as he had thought they were.

He had done a few spells in the days following his leaving the hospital wing (despite the nurse advising him against using magic), and he had found that, if anything, his abilities seemed to be more refined, as though they had gone through some sort of trial to become stronger. He had looked into this briefly in the library, and according to a book he read, magic was a bit like a muscle. It needed to be exercised often, and then allowed to rest. What he had done with Quirrell was remarkably similar to when one strains a muscle too far, but it had resulted in the 'muscle' being strengthened after recovery.

He had even managed some wandless magic prior to leaving, just a simple levitation charm. He had considered telling Ron and Hermione, but stopped short of doing so because he knew Hermione would be overly worried about him going against the instructions of the nurse and headmaster, and Ron would either agree with her or tell him he was becoming Hermione. Or worse, Ron would get jealous of Harry's boost. So he had kept it a secret for now, but practiced it for a little bit in the mornings and evenings while at the Dursleys. He had also managed to perform an unlocking charm, which helped him do his homework. He had begun re-reading his textbooks, and felt guilty that he had allowed himself to become lax. Well, this year was going to be different. He was going to show he wasn't just a famous name, and not just because he was good with a broomstick. He was going to show that he had the brains and the power to go with the name, since that's all the wizarding world seemed to care about.

As for his lack of sleep, beyond a couple of hours every night, Harry knew exactly what it was. He may be young, but he was by no means stupid. He wondered why no one had really talked to him about what happened with Quirrell. Were most wizards different? Did they handle doing things like what he did to Quirrell easier? Were his aunt and uncle right about him, then? Was he abnormal, even for a wizard? Was he weaker than others, because he had nightmares about what happened? Did the wizarding world deal with killing people better than the Muggle world?

All Harry really knew was that he had killed a man, melted him to ash by just touching him, and he couldn't sleep very well since.

Later that night, Harry winced slightly; Uncle Vernon had not been happy with him when that house-elf had wrecked Aunt Petunia's pudding (which she had bought at the store, because heaven's knows she wouldn't be able to create such a masterpiece herself despite being a decent cook). He hadn't beaten Harry or anything; he always blustered like that. But in his anger at losing the Mason contract, he had not been as careful when hauling Harry up to the smallest bedroom; Harry was sure that he had sprained his shoulder or at least put it slightly out of joint.

Placing his belt between his teeth, Harry used the wardrobe that he had hidden Dobby in not too long ago to push his shoulder back into joint with a small pop. Removing the belt from his mouth, Harry could make out the minute teeth marks he had put into the leather. Sighing, Harry hoped that it wouldn't cause any issue with his teeth… Teeth. Maybe there was a way out of this situation after all. He didn't know if Uncle Vernon would go through with his threats, but if he did, Harry couldn't let Hedwig share his fate. His owl had been a great comfort, and she had enjoyed some casual flights since Harry mastered the wandless unlocking charm. Which made him wonder why the Ministry hadn't detected his magic, but had detected the House-Elf's. Still, of his two friends, Hermione was the one to really talk to; when it was not in the heat of the moment, his friend was great at figuring out what to do. Ron was great if you wanted to vent, but if you wanted to get something done? Hermione was the only option.

Still, Harry had to wonder exactly what his friends would think of him; he knew he wasn't exactly the same person he had been when they left school. He still wasn't quite whole; he was figuring out who he was now, now that he was a murderer. But was it murder?

_Don't focus on that now, Harry_, he told himself fiercely. _Focus on writing to Hermione, getting out of this mess._

_**London**_

It would be surprising to most people who knew her, but Hermione Granger was not, as many would guess, a little authority-whore. Yes, she knew what that word meant. Her parents had been quite cross with those girls from school (before Hogwarts) calling her that, because she had come to them in tears after finding out what the word meant. The school had been called, and the girls in question suspended for their cruelty. Hermione knew it would seem like she was a complete slave to authority and books, and maybe if she hadn't met Harry Potter, she would have continued being that way.

But this year at Hogwarts was an eye-opener. She gained a valued friend, someone she could talk to and who didn't seem to care about her being a know-it-all (though the same could not be said for Ronald, the poor boy was so dense sometimes it amazed even Hermione). He had come to warn her about the troll, and when he figured out that the troll had come after her, he had leaped on the troll to distract it after trying to get her to run. Amazingly, Ron had remembered the proper movement and incantation to levitate the troll's club (which had kept getting closer and closer to taking off Harry's head) and it had been used to knock the troll out.

Of course, Hermione didn't tell her parents about all this, and especially not about what she and her friends had gone through at the end of the year. She was having trouble getting through it herself, and despite feeling she could talk to her parents, knew that they could never understand that she couldn't leave Hogwarts, the one place where she finally felt whole, and more importantly, where she finally had friends.

Of course, she was beginning to wonder if she did; she had barely heard from Ron (and most of that was commentary on some Quidditch team that Hermione could barely care about) and hadn't heard from Harry at all. She hoped he was alright; he hadn't seemed very happy going home, and his family had seemed very unpleasant, especially that walrus man that claimed to be Harry's uncle. Her parents had even asked her if she had heard from Harry, and had quiet discussions she wasn't privy to when she told them she hadn't. For someone who hated mysteries, it was infuriating to not be let in on whatever it was her parents were talking about, especially since it concerned her best friend.

A tapping at her window distracted the 12-year-old from her inner monologue. Glancing up, a brilliant smile (the product of having dentists for parents) split her face and she bounced to the window, opening it and allowing Harry's snowy white owl, Hedwig, to fly into the room. The owl landed at the desk, and held out her leg with a soft bark. Hermione untied the letter, gave Hedwig a little scratch on the side of her head, and opened the envelope. Inside was a letter, written in Harry's chicken-scratch scrawl.

_Dear Hermione, _

_I don't have much time to write this so I'll be quick. A house-elf (some kind of magical butler?) was stopping my letters. It said something about 'protecting me', but honestly, it doesn't know what it's like living here. _

_The house elf used a levitation charm and the Ministry decided it must have been me. My uncle is furious because tonight's events cost him a big contract, and he's threatened to keep me locked up. I'm getting out of here tonight (I'll tell you what I mean when I see you) but I don't know where Ron or you live. I can find enough Muggle money to get a train to London (hopefully). Could you meet me in the Leaky Cauldron around noon? _

_Harry_

Hermione frowned, not liking that her friend had to put himself at risk like this to get out of his relatives' house. It seemed like they really weren't the best people. Looking at the clock, she saw that it was a little past 8 in the morning. Her parents had just left for work, which meant she had to make this decision herself. In the end, it was a pretty easy one. After all, Harry was her best friend; what kind of friend was she if she didn't help him when he needed it?

_**A/N: Hope everyone likes this chapter. Harry is going to stay with the Grangers for a while, yes; Dumbledore will not be doing the following: **_

_**Stealing from Harry or his family.**_

_**Manipulating Harry through the Weasleys.**_

_**Blocking Harry's abilities.**_

_**Forcing Harry to do what he thinks is best. This includes going back to the Dursleys. **_

_**As for Hermione's location: I don't know if Rowling ever said where Hermione actually lives. I know many H/Hr shippers identify her living in Crawley, but I've always seen her as a London girl myself, so that's where she lives in my fic. **_

_**Next chapter: Harry's summer with Hermione and surprises at Gringotts. **_


	2. Chapter 2: Gringotts

Chapter 2:

Gringotts

Hermione Granger looked around briefly when she entered the Leaky Cauldron and felt a quick rush of relief when she saw Harry stand from where he had been sitting in a booth and wave at her. She rushed over, ignoring some of the looks she was getting, and hugged her friend tightly. She felt him wince slightly as he hugged her back, and a slight scowl formed on her face. There was more to the story about his relatives than he'd let on, she was sure of it.

Pulling away, she got a decent look at her friend. There were bags under his eyes, like he hadn't gotten enough sleep. She could relate to that, but being a girl, she did have access to some things that boys just wouldn't use on principle, such as foundation; it blended in nicely with her skin, keeping it from looking like she was having trouble sleeping. Which, with her parents being unaware of what happened at Hogwarts, was a boon; she would have to see if there were any cosmetic charms Harry could get if they needed it. "So, what exactly were you planning to do?" Hermione asked. "Stay here the rest of the summer?"

"I dunno," Harry replied, shrugging with a half-smile twitching on his lips. Hermione rolled her eyes. Trust Harry to act without really having a plan. "That's sort of why I called you."

Hermione rolled her eyes again and said, "Well, I'm sure I can convince my parents to let you stay, and barring that, I'm sure Ron would love to have you over at his place. Might be the best option, too, since you and he have so much more you can do together."

"I dunno, Hermione," Harry replied, looking around at the witches and wizards in the pub. Seeing none of them appeared to be listening, he said quietly, "After what happened last year, with Voldemort, I realized I can't just coast like Ron and I've been doing. I need to study, and train. I can't be caught off-guard like that again. I nearly died because I wasn't ready."

"Harry, we're kids! We shouldn't have even been down there," Hermione said. She raised a hand to forestall any of his arguments. "I'm not saying we shouldn't have, but. . . . it was the adults' job to do something. We did what we did because they didn't think about what might happen. But I've been thinking a lot, too, Harry. Didn't the tasks seem a bit. . . . odd?"

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked.

"Fluffy, who belongs to Hagrid, whose known to wax poetic about dangerous creatures," Hermione said. "Devil's Snare, which we got a lecture about. Charmed keys and a broom, the keys being like a snitch. . ."

"The chess match, Ron's best talent, and the troll was something we'd already done," Harry continued her line of thought. "And Snape's potions quiz was for logic, and you're the most logical person in the school. The final test was the Mirror of Erised, and Dumbledore explained it to me back at Christmas! Even said I'd be forewarned if I ran into it again. . . ." Harry trailed off, looking a bit freaked out, and Hermione couldn't blame him. She knew that if they hadn't had so much time to think about what had happened, on their own, without talking to people in charge of them, than maybe they wouldn't have come to those conclusions. But she and Harry were both outsiders, despite their apparent acceptance in the wizarding world.

Harry sighed and said, "Well, we thought it might be something like that, anyways. We even speculated such at the end of the year." Hermione nodded, not really remembering that until now, but they had thought it was convenient. What was the headmaster playing at?

Harry, casting around for a topic to change, said, "Look, I need to go to Gringotts. I just need to check if my parents left anything else. Journals or something. . ." He wasn't sure he liked the understanding look on Hermione's face, but it was easier to tell her this than Ron. His best mate wasn't exactly the 'touchy-feely' type, and he had grown up with a loving family. Hermione had to, from the sound of it, but she seemed to understand Harry's need to find out more about his parents, especially since he had confronted the man who had murdered them not so long ago.

At Gringotts, Harry approached the teller with Hermione a little behind him, looking inquisitively around. Harry got the impression she had been more nervous than anything the first time she had come here, and that she was making up for that now. They had left Harry's trunk in the care of Tom the barkeep, who had been quite pleased to be trusted by Harry to even do something like that. Harry had asked Hermione as they entered the alley if she thought wizards were a bit demented. She had been non-committal, but a small smile had shown her amusement at Harry's insinuation.

The goblin teller looked down at Harry and said, "Yes?"

"I'm Harry Potter. I was wondering if the vault I have is the only one, or if my parents left one with journals or things like that," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Hagrid had done all the talking last time, but the goblins had been a bit suspicious of Harry for some reason; or maybe they were just suspicious of wizards in general? That would fit with what Harry's History of Magic lessons had shown.

"Griphook!" The same goblin as last year came over. "Escort Mr. Potter and his guest to the Potter Inheritance Vault, for the portrait. Explain it to him, and activate the enchantments to make it portable."

"Yes, sir," Griphook replied, and led the two Hogwarts students to the carts.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked as they got into a cart.

"The Potter Inheritance Vault," Griphook replied as if Harry was an idiot. Seeing Harry's confused expression, he sighed and said irritably, "Heirlooms and such from your family history are present in the vault. Most of it you will not gain access to before your 15th birthday, at which point you will gain access to it all, but not to the main Potter Finance Vault. You currently only have access to the Potter Trust Vault."

Harry's head was spinning a bit as he asked, "If I'm not allowed to take anything from the Inheritance Vault. . ."

"You are not allowed to take most of it out, yes," Griphook replied shortly. "But there is an item which you may wish to bring with you. You are allowed to bring your family portraits out to learn the Potter history from your ancestors. It is assumed that you would like to bring your parents' portrait out first. I will make it portable, and give you instructions on how to activate it. Do not worry," he said, seeing the pre-teens looking nervous. "It will not break the wizard law about underage sorcery, even if done in a Muggle home. It is done without the wands, and is familial magic, which cannot be traced regardless."

Harry became aware of a strong grip on his upper arm, and turned to see Hermione looking down into the caverns with fright. He remembered she was never too fond of heights and gave her a comforting look. She smiled back as they continued the journey to the Potter Inheritance Vault. Arriving, they stepped off onto the platform and Harry realized the PIV was similar to the high-security vault he had visited with Hagrid last year. Griphook ran one finger down it, and the door opened to reveal a room filled with numerous items, from furniture to armor to weapons to portraits. Griphook used goblin magic to bring a portrait to the entrance. "Wizarding portraits are unusual in that they combine the essence of the wizard or witch with their memories. Couples often have a portrait created together, especially if they are part of an old family such as the Potters. The portrait will act much like your parents would, and has many of their memories. It will not have the memories of anything after the last time the portrait was updated."

"When was that?" Hermione inquired. Griphook, seeing Harry was nodding at Hermione's question, answered, though he clearly detested answering a non-client's question.

"James and Lily Potter entered Gringotts one last time before entering hiding precisely 9 days before their deaths, October 22, 1981. Anything after that, including their deaths, was not added to the portraits' memories."

Griphook activated the enchantments for mobility and explained, "Because portraits are forged with goblin magic, we have had to adapt them so wizards and witches could use them with simple commands. If you are not able to carry the portrait normally, you simply place your hand on it and say shrink. To bring it to full size, do the same but say 'full size'. As for how to bring the portrait to life, you simply say awaken. To put it back to sleep, well, do I really have to say it?" Griphook's expression told them exactly what he was thinking if they had to be told.

"Thank you, Griphook," Harry said, and the goblin gave a stiff nod.

Harry and Hermione got back to her home in the London suburbs right around the same time her mother did. Harry stood by, nervously, as Hermione explained things to her mother, who glanced over at the boy. He was clearly nervous about things, and she smiled at him. Jean Granger said, "Come in, Harry. I doubt you're the type of boy who would cause trouble, although this won't be a common occurrence once you two are older." Jean smiled as the two pre-teens flushed, getting her meaning clearly. She would clear it with her husband, Robert, easily enough.

Hermione led Harry to the guest room, and they got his things squared away. Harry glanced at Hermione and said, "I-I would like you here when I wake them up, but. . ."

"But you want them to yourself the first time," Hermione said, giving her friend a smile. "You don't have to be embarrassed Harry. I'll be downstairs with Mum, and Dad when he gets home." She left, giving Harry another sympathetic smile before closing the door.

Harry pulled the portrait from his pocket and placed it against the wall. He touched the frame and muttered, "Full size." The portrait grew so the images of his parents would be about the height they would have been in real life. Taking a deep breath, Harry said, "Awaken." He could _feel_ the familial magic as it activated the portrait.

James and Lily Potter blinked in their portrait, adjusting to their new reality. Harry stepped back, waiting for the two to notice him. James was the first to do so. "Harry?" This attracted Lily's attention to the short, dark-haired boy standing in front of them in a decidedly Muggle household.

Harry fought past the lump in his throat as he said, "H=hi, Dad. Mum."

"Harry, sweetheart, you're looking so grown-up," Lily said, looking as though she wanted nothing more than to step out of the portrait and wrap her arms around him. "How old are you?"

"I-I just turned 12," Harry replied. "T-there's a lot to talk about."

"I guess Voldemort got us," James said grimly.

"He did," Harry said. "I dunno what all happened, but I know that I survived with this scar," Harry touched the lightning bolt scar, drawing his parents' attention to it, "and that he was destroyed. At least, that's what everyone thought."

"What d'you mean, Harry?" James asked, Lily looking nervous.

"He was at Hogwarts last year, trying to get the Sorcerer's Stone from where Professor Dumbledore had hidden it," Harry said. "We tried to tell the teachers, but they wouldn't listen. So we went after it ourselves."

"WHAT?" Lily screamed. "What do you mean, you went after it? And who's we?"

"Er, Professor Dumbledore had been drawn away, and no one was listening to us," Harry said. "We thought Snape was trying to get the Stone for VOldemort-"

"Snape? That greasy bastard was at Hogwarts?" James demanded to know.

"He's the Potions teacher and he hates me," Harry said, noticing the flinch from his mum and wondering what that was about. "Turned out it wasn't him. The Defense teacher was actually trying to get to the Stone, and he was being possessed by Voldemort. My friends and I got through the trials, but at the last one there was only enough for one to go through after him. I went through. I don't know what you did, Mum, but Quirrell. . . I killed him. I burnt him to ash just by touching him. Does that make me a monster?"

The plaintive question, which had been haunting Harry since he woke up, received no answer as his parents were digesting everything. But to Harry, it was confirmation that even his parents saw him as a monster. He swallowed the feeling of despair, and said, "Anyways, I-I thought I'd see if you guys left journals or anything, and the goblins gave me this portrait."

"Harry, I'm proud that you did what was right, but I wish you hadn't had to have gone after the Stone," Lily said, looking fearful. "You could have died; Voldemort is very powerful, and he doesn't believe in mercy."

Harry was conflicted, because this didn't jive with what he had heard. "But- he gave you a chance to get away, when he attacked. He told me!"

"Don't believe Voldemort, son," James said softy. "He twists the truth and lies to get people to do what he wants. But you should know this. Sirius should have told you."

"Who's Sirius?" Harry asked, confused. James and Lily looked shocked.

"Harry, dear, Sirius is your godfather," Lily replied.

"I've never heard of him," Harry said, shaking his head. "I was raised by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon."

"What?" Lily asked, sounding and looking as though she had been punched in the stomach.

Harry couldn't help but feel he was being judged by the looks his parents were giving him, like he wasn't living up to their expectations. He said, "I survived. That's all that matters, right?" Before James and Lily could respond, Harry touched the frame and said, "Sleep." The portrait 'shut down', and Harry shrunk it before putting it in his trunk. Sighing, he went downstairs and met the Grangers. He should have realized his parents wouldn't understand; how could they, they died all those years ago.

_**A/N: Probably not the reunion most of you imagined with the whole portrait thing, eh? I hope I've captured Harry's state of mind properly. At some points he seems to be his normal, canon self, but then he reverts to what I think is more like his true mental state. Shattered because he had to kill a man, uncertain of where to go from here. **_

_**Next chapter: We see how first year has changed Ron Weasley, and Harry and Hermione explore Harry's new abilities together. Ron visits, and the Trio begins to make headway with figuring out who they are now. **_


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Harry Potter, Angst, Mystery