Title: ' ' INVINCIBLE
wwbi coadmin - November 18, 2007 07:25 PM (GMT)
Might as well toss that; you won't be needing it.
You see, that Harry Potter was thrown into Azkaban for charges of conspiracy and murder a few years ago. Bloody hell, right? Sent him right through to the Ministry they did. For the trial of course. Couldn't have lunatics like him running free on the streets. Who knew what sort of beliefs he was spreading around. Heaven forbid he speak one false word against the Ministry! Especially since he took such great care in destroying part of it. Poor Department of Mysterious, it's never quite been the same since. And all those lost prophesies. The boy had not a single care for history or culture or art. Because, of course, the reciting of prophesies is such an art. Well, pardon my ramblings, they sent him right on through. Took all of fifteen minutes for the trial, Minister Fudge (bless his heart) took care of the little heathen straight away, gave him a fully deserved life sentence in Azkaban.
Excuse me while I go puke into the nearest available bin. What a bunch of shit. Bad move, Shurlock, bad move. Because what happened as soon as they locked our dear old hero away? Well, our wonderful resident I-Will-Rule-You-All-One-Day guy shows up and attacks. Constantly and relentlessly. They call it the "Serpent's Hour". Cheesy ass name. And inaccurate, too. Like hell the attacks lasted an hour. They wish. They wish they could wipe those times from their stupid little heads. They wish they could forget the misery that brought upon themselves. They wish it would just go away and leave them alone. But it won't.
But wasn't it a shock that when they up and decided, "Well, it's been a few years now. I think we really need Harry to defeat the dark lord. Let's go let him out of Azkaban and get him to help us." If it wasn't so damn funny, I might just have up and slapped one of those bitches in the order. If I were Harry, the only thing I'd help them to is a grave. A fucking twenty-foot grave. With sharp rocks at the bottom. But he wasn't exactly all kittens and daisies either, so I'll give him props for that. Damn, I wish you could have seen his face.
And what he said. I swear, if it wasn’t one of those crazy ass silent moments I would have had laughed.
Dumbledore, the bastard, paraded down that corridor in Azkaban (all dementors elsewhere, of course) with about a jazillion of his Order house-elf wannabes trailing around like little lost sheep. I suppose he was aiming for the “good shepherd” look. Too bad he got the “superficial see-through old man” look instead. Of course, despite his run-down, scary skeleton appearance, Harry saw it. Recognized it. Hated it. Dumbledore looked all solemn when he spoke the first time, “Harry, it’s time for you to come home.” He said it like he was in one of those muggle soap operas, the ones where everything always ends up going right for the good guy, you know. Yeah, Harry thought it was funny, too.
He choked out a fistful of laughs; he didn’t even try to restrain them. “Harry? It’s going to be alright. You’re not delusional or seeing things. It’s really us! We’re really going to take you home.” That had been Granger. Apparently she was under the delusion that he was under a delusion which he was not, but you know how that goes. She didn’t really have much of a chance to say anything else, but she quickly found out that Harry knew exactly what was going on.
“I heard Tom’s kicking your ass,” he said.
“I don’t understand what you’re--”
“The hell you don’t. I can feel him, Dumbles. He’s been in my head for years now. And let me tell you, he’s got more of a handle on your logic than you do. ”
“Harry--”
“Open the damn cell, Dumbledore. I want out.”
Nobody argued with him, surprisingly. I suppose Albus thought Harry just needed to cool off, grieve his lost time and what-not. He figured that his little golden boy would come crawling back, eager to help, sooner or later. Boy, was he wrong. Open the door to the bird’s cage and he’ll fly right through your fingers.
And fly our little Harry did. But he didn’t completely abandon them. No, in a year, he got back on his feet., monitored his enemies, now the Order, the Ministry, and Lord Voldemort. And the he began to gather his people. People who always carried the doubt that he had been guilty. Those who had carried silent comfort and support with them for those three years the he had been in Azkaban. He gathered them, and together they outgrew and surpassed the Order.
There are no horcruxes. No pieces of people’s souls floating about. No fancy tricks barring Voldemort from death. There is only a fierce battle ahead. And when the dust settles who will be invincible?