Harry Potter: Crucible: A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its associated characters: all rights belong to JK Rowling. I do not own any crossover references used in the story: all rights belong to their original creators. I do own any OC spells explained at the end of a chapter.

Plot: Two types of people go into a crucible: the ones who become stronger and the ones who die. But there's a third type: the ones who learn to love the fire and stay in their crucible because it's easier to embrace the pain when it's all you know anymore.

Author's Note: So, here we have a story that's something a little interesting and familiar, but, at the same time, features some interesting twists and a few common surprises. Anyway, get ready for the fun.

Oh, and as always, if you don't like it, don't read it.

Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this story to my good friend ArlyssTolero who helped inspire the way I intend to write this story: my recommended reads are Harry Potter and the Shadow of the Demon and The Summoned Champion by ArlyssTolero, Damaged Raven by JustBored21, Dark Prince Rises by Ronin2106, Rise of the Wizards and Be Careful What You Wish For by Teufel1987, Harry Potter and the Grim Heritage by shinobikarasu, Fueled Anger by Kaitabi, Phoenix Insurgent by BolshevikMuppet99, Bellatrix's second chance by Winmau, Harry Potter and The Power He Knows Not Book 1 The Reluctant Champion by ACI100 and There Be Dragons, Harry by Scioneeris

Key Pairing: Harry/TBD

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

/Parseltongue/

Chapter 1: Purgatory

Cold.

Heat.

Loss.

Pain.

Fear.

Anger.

Failure!

For what seemed like the tenth time in just two nights, fifteen-year-old Harry James Potter snapped his eyes open and sat bolt upright in his bed in Gryffindor Tower, his face caked with sweat while his heart seemed to have frozen inside of his chest as he tried to wrestle his way free of the bedcovers and back into the real world.

'The real world!'

Just thinking those words was enough to make Harry laugh, especially given one of the many non-nightmarish things he remembered most from what was, without a shadow of a doubt, the worst night in his life. Period.

'You know, you really ought to be able to tell the difference between dreams and reality…you saw what the Dark Lord wanted you to see…'

'And just look at what it cost you, Harry,' Harry thought to himself, retrieving his wand as he cast a quick drying charm on his bedding, before he left his bed and, walking past Ron's still-empty bed, as well as the sleeping forms of Dean and Seamus, he made his way into the boys' bathroom.

Stopping in front of one of the sinks, Harry ran cold water under the tap before he splashed it, first onto his face and then rubbing it into the back of his neck, letting the cold liquid run over his skin in a way that gave him goosebumps while he also splashed water over his head, if only to let it run down over his scar and through his black hair.

Once he was sufficiently-drenched, Harry looked up to his reflection, taking note of the bags under his eyes, as well as the gaunt air that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face, ever since that night.

He also took a moment to finger the newest in a long line of additional facial scars and body markers that reminded him of everything that had happened to him, both on that night and since then.

In this instance, it was a very small, but no-less noticeable moon-shaped scar that had come to join the party of marks on Harry's face thanks to him losing his temper with Dumbledore and trashing the old man's office.

Not that he'd apologise for that, mind you.

It felt good to vent, especially after the bullshit year he'd had to endure trying to defend that insolent old fool's so-called good name; first with the Dementors, then Umbridge, then the DA, Dumbledore's expulsions, Snape's ass-backwards excuse for lessons in the art of Occlumency, not to mention nightmares, visions and constant sneaky-peeks into Tom's mind, using a bond that he now knew Albus Dumbledore had known about for a good long while, but had he told Harry about it?

Hell no!

Had he said anything, be it to the Order, or even Harry himself that indicated how he'd known for just as long a time, if not longer, that he knew what Tom had been after and that the prophecy was, apparently, genuine?

Fuck no!

Had he done anything to try and do what a real great man, hero and warrior would be able to do?

Fifty shades of fuck-it-all-of-course-not!

And then, the funniest bit of all.

Had he, the great man, Albus Dumbledore, whom Harry should just trust for shits-and-giggles because he was Dumbledore and he obviously knew what he was doing: had this same pathetic, ignorant, overcompensating, manipulative old coward of a so-called teacher done anything to give Harry a good enough reason to want to continue fighting this war, especially on Albus Dumbledore's terms or in his slowly-declining excuse for a good name ever again?

Especially after the old coot had thrust Harry back into the spotlight once Fudge decided to wake up and see what everyone else could see, namely that Tom was back?

Had he done anything like that?

No-no-no-no-no-fucking-hell-and-all-the-demons-down-there-NO!

SMASH!

Suddenly, Harry's eyes widened when he realised that, in his anger, he had done the same thing he remembered doing in his attempt to throw Tom out of his mind.

In his ire and his rage directed towards the old fool who was basically as big a fool as Fudge was a corrupt little turd, Harry had driven his fist straight into the glass of the mirror. Shards of magical glass slowly fell onto the floor with an audible crash, while, when Harry looked down at his bleeding fist, he saw one or two shards sticking out of his skin.

And yet, as weird as it was going to sound, he couldn't feel the shards, let alone the pain.

He could feel his warm blood trickling down his fingers and onto the floor, but he couldn't feel the pain anymore.

All he could feel…well, that was the thing.

He couldn't feel, not one thing; he didn't feel guilty for smashing the glass; he didn't feel hurt, sad or scared that he had basically wounded himself losing his temper; he didn't feel annoyed that yet another wound was open on his flesh; he didn't even feel glad or pleased to know that he could still bleed.

All he felt was numb, darkness, emptiness and an all-consuming sense of nothingness.

Lowering his hand, Harry looked back to the mirror, which showed his somewhat-disjointed self and the fractured, broken mindset he felt inside of him as well as any euphemism would feel. He also saw the hole in the centre of the mirror, where the broken pieces had fallen out of the wall and onto the floor, but, when he saw the hole, Harry saw more than just a hole in the wall.

He saw a hole in him.

One that nothing, no food, no drink, no love nor friendship, no amount of classes, Quidditch or distractions would fill.

In fact, he highly doubted he would ever feel right in being able to fill that hole again.

'Huh,' thought Harry, deciding to at least do the right thing and clean up the glass, as well as the blood on his hand, as he wrapped several reels of toilet roll around the wound, soaking it under the water for added effect, before he levitated the broken glass into bin and cleaned up the blood with a quick Scourgify.

And yet, all the while, there was only one thought that ran through Harry's mind, even as he decided he'd forego trying to get back to sleep again, in favour of sitting in front of the Gryffindor fireplace and brooding over his next course of action, not that he had such a plan.

Which was probably why the thought was so easy to contemplate, even as he stared into the flickering flames in the fireplace;

'Is this what it feels like when you're in Purgatory?'

Wow, talk about dead to the world and then some, but if Harry's found himself in Purgatory, can anything pull him off of his island and back into the world he knows best?

Also, how will his friends take the fact that he's become so dead to everything around him, even a new wound is nothing more than another excuse for shits-and-giggles with him?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: Harry might feel like he's in Purgatory, but how quickly he forgets: not only has fifth year brought him loads of darkness; it's also brought him a light that can empathise with him and not just tell him what they think or they think he wants to hear;

Please Read and Review