InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Demon Hunter ❯ Book ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter---etc. etc. etc... You get the deal.

Chapter One

A red Mercedes pulled into the grovel driveway at number four Privet Drive and parked just outside the garage. The first to exit the vehicle was a thin, long necked blonde woman who stepped out of the passenger's side. She immediately plastered on a fake cheesy smile and waved readily at the neighbors next-door. The door on the driver's side then opened and up stepped a large beefy man with a thick mustache and a grumpy look on his face. He popped the trunk and then shut the door with much more force than necessary. The third person to leave the car exited from the right back seat. It was a heavy young man with thick blond hair. The boy simply shut the car door and scurried into the house, followed closely by his parents. Finally, the last occupant of the car got out carrying a cage, walked to the back of the car, pulled out a large, heavy-looking trunk, and proceeded to drag it up the walkway.

The boy was thin, and a bit on the short side, with wild black hair and thick round glasses hiding once brilliant green eyes. Those eyes were now haunted; filled with regret and anger. Those eyes belonged to Harry Potter.

The boy-who-lived. The boy who just killed his godfather.

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Hauling his trunk up the stairs had become increasingly easier each year he came to the Dursley's. Not that Harry would notice. He continued up the stairs with a scowl on his face, his trunk loudly smashing into each step, the cage rattling wildly. He didn't care how much noise he made. What were his relatives going to do about it? They were scared shitless after the little threat Moody gave them.

Harry finally made it to his room. He placed Hedwig's empty cage on his desk and threw his trunk at the foot of his bed. A faint clanging could be heard near the bottom of it, most likely the broken pieces of the mirror. Harry didn't want to look at them right now. It hurt too much. He had hoped his anger had deflated some during his last week at Hogwart's—and it had. But one look at his summer `prison' and it all came rushing back to him.

`Just like Sirius,' Harry thought miserably. Would he end like his godfather? Locked away until he was desperate enough to sacrifice his life for a bit of fresh air? Or would Dumbledore keep him in storage and take him out only to land the final blow to Voldemort?

His thoughts strayed back to Sirius. Once again his heart filled with a familiar pain, only amplified tenfold.

`THEN I DON'T WANT TO BE HUMAN!' Harry frowned as the words echoed hauntingly in his mind. Humanity. Would it be worth it? To give up humanity only to end the pain? It would make him stronger, that he knew. Voldemort was able to use his own powers to their full potential because he never felt any guilt or remorse. Because he wasn't human. Harry had that power too--he just needed to apply himself, make some sacrifices...

`No!' Harry thought angrily, `don't think like that.' He could not start thinking like Voldemort. He was better than that.

He sighed and sat down on the creaky, broken in mattress. Life sucked, and it wasn't about to get any better. Despite his current mood, Harry couldn't stop a dry smile form forming on his face. After all the psychological torture Dumbledore had put him through, he had to wonder if he was supposed to defeat Voldemort or become him. You'd think he'd take better care of his precious weapon.

For three more days Harry stayed in his room mourning his Godfather, the chance for him to have a real family, and his future in general. While he was at it he thought about his part in the death of Cedric and his parents and Voldemort's resurrection. He almost never left his room unless he needed the bathroom or to nibble on a bit of food. The Dursley's had next to no qualms about his behavior. The longer he stayed out of their sight the better.

This routine may have stayed for at least another week, but on his fourth day back from Hogwarts, Harry woke to find an unfamiliar weight resting on his feet. He groggily fumbled for his glasses and propped himself up on his elbows to have a better look at the foot of his bed. There, resting on his feet was a large, thick book. From where he was positioned the leather cover looked cracked and musty, revealing it's age. Harry looked for an owl or any sort of way of delivery but found none. Grabbing his wand from his bedside table, he cautiously crawled out of his covers and to the end of his bed to get a better look at it.

He blew away some dust so he could read the title with less difficulty.

The title of the book that would change his life forever.

`Blood Magic and Rituals'

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Well, it's a start—a very short start—but a start nonetheless.

Reviews are appreciated.