Burnt

Chapter 1

((A/N: The cover was made by Tanyaslytherin thank you so much!!!!!))

A fire was crackling at number 4 Privet Drive, the flames were high, and the muggle fire fighters at the front were baffled, no matter what they did the flames wouldn't go out. The three Dursleys were together at the front of the house, Vernon was being attended to by the paramedics, burns covering his right arm. Petunia was holding Dudley in a vice grip, the overweight boy looking at the house in terror.

Harry had run back inside before the crowd had formed, the only people who knew he went back into the house were the Dursleys, and the only one who cared was Dudley. He didn't know what would posses Harry to go back into the burning building.

"Is there anyone left in the house?" One of the firefighters asked Petunia, Dudley clearly in shock and Vernon still being treated.

"No, we all managed to get out." Petunia said, digging her nails into Dudley's arm, silently warning him against arguing. She would be glad if the Potter brat were to have died in the fire, seeing as it wasn't going out, the flames may even swallow the evidence.

"Alright, thankfully the fire doesn't seem to be spreading, but we can't seem to put it out, I suggest you start making a list of everything that was in the house. And anything you think might have caused it, more things than you think are fire risks." The fire fighter said, looking at Dudley with concern. "You might want to take your son to be checked over too."

"Yes, thank you." Petunia said, her smile not as sweet as it normally was with the implication there could be something wrong with her precious Duddykins, although everyone else naturally assumed it was because her house they thought she worked so hard on was burning down.

Around the back of the house, barely out of the flames, lay Harry, eyes almost closed. His hands were loosely gripping his suitcase and Hedwig's change, having sent the owl off shortly before the fire started. His face was pale with fear and over exertion, soot caught in his hair, as well as painting his face. If anything it was shocking he wasn't burnt worse.

It was with half dead eyes that Harry glanced in the direction of the loud crack as several auroras apparated to the back garden of the house. Clearly the magical fire had set off alarms in the ministry, Harry couldn't tell if they were because they thought he did it, or because it was just magic, but he didn't have the energy to care.

"You don't think Potter caused this?" One of the voices asked, obviously not asking Harry.

"Don't see why he would, get a magical signature and put the flames out, the healers will be out soon to change the muggles' memories. Either way, someone should take him in, he needs a healer." A much more high pitched voice said, sounded as though they were the leader of the group. Harry wasn't going to argue that he didn't need a healer, he didn't remember a time when he had been in more pain than he was in now, not even when one of Marge's dogs had bitten his leg an it got infected. He was still scarred from that.

"I'll take him to the ministry, the healers there aren't as good as St Mungo's, but they'll be able to do something for him until we know who caused this." A deep voice with a Scouse accent said, shortly before hands pulled Harry into the air, almost making him drop his suitcase and his only pictures of his parents, he didn't care that his wand was still in the building, but he couldn't loose those.

Nobody said anything, so Harry couldn't even be sure they saw the slight change in his grip that felt like it took as much energy as it would take to run across the whole of Hogwarts, not leaving even a single crevice untouched.

The feeling of apparition, as Harry found, was a very unpleasant one. It felt like he was being pulled in every possible directions, the air being pulled from his lungs and his insides churning uncomfortably, especially so due their painful emptiness.

"Goodness!" Finally a voice Harry recognised from last year, not that he liked the man who wanted his godfather's soul removed and wouldn't listen to him about anything, Cornelius Fudge. "What happened to Harry? Was it Black? He did unfortunately escape at the end of the last school year."

"We don't know what caused this yet, I brought him here for treatment while the others check who caused the fire and put it out." The Scouse voice that was holding him said, placing him down on a bed that felt more like a table, but that was still more comfortable than the hard, lumpy, smelly, bare mattress he slept on with the Dursleys.

"By god!" Fudge let out a cry, seeing Harry's eyes flicker slightly through the crack in his almost closed eyelids. "He's still awake!"

While Fudge seemed horrified Harry was still awake to feel this pain, the auror didn't seem so upset, no, they seemed glad Harry was at least vaguely conscious. It wasn't malicious, Harry knew the look in a person's eyes when they take a malicious joy in seeing another in pain, no, it seemed more like they were glad they had less work to do.

"Potter, you awake?" They asked carefully, looking at Harry with caution.

It took a lot for Harry to respond, and even then it was only a small movement of his eyes and a feeble noise. If they hadn't just found him outside a fire, Harry would be feeling pathetic, but he had used all his energy trying to protect that suitcase and causing that stupid fire he hadn't intended to make, he mostly felt apathetic.

"Can we see your memories of what happened? Even if they're not clear or jumbled they can help us to deal with whatever happened." They explained.

Harry knew that if they saw his memories they would know that he was the one who set the fire, and that he was writing to Sirius for comfort and advice, but he truly didn't know where the wizard was, so they couldn't get that out of him. He didn't care what happened to him, being in Azkaban without his soul couldn't be worse than life with the Dursleys. With all the energy he could muster, Harry nodded his head.

"Thank you. Let me know if it hurts, however you can." The auror said, taking out their wand and pressing it to Harry's temple. Harry felt like he was having water flow out of his ears after they had been clogged, along with a certain sinking feeling in his gut. In truth he was scared to let them know what happened to him, but they were going to find out somehow.

Harry vaguely remembered before going back for the summer, the worst time in his life because he thought he was going to be free from them, only for that to be ripped away from him at the last moment. He decided to tell Dumbledore about it, but the old wizard hadn't cared, telling him that he had to stay there for his own safety, and the Dursleys loved him in their own way.

Fudge felt a little sick looking at the small, burnt boy in front of him, a long chain of memory following auror Chris' wand. It hadn't been long since he had last seen the boy, and he looked so much more healthy then. Of course, that was while the poor boy was under a confundus charm like his unfortunate friends, poor things thinking Black was innocent. Fudge guessed he was just lucky nothing worse than a confundus had happened to him.

The chain of a memory finally stopped, hanging loose from Chris' wand, as they placed it in a glass jar they carried in their pocket, stepping back to allow the healers at Harry. It seemed he was trying hard to stay awake, but for the life of him, Fudge couldn't figure out why. He must know he was safe now, and with the healers trying to give him sleeping potions he should know he wasn't needed to be awake for treatment.

It was with one final look back at the broken boy that Fudge followed Chris into his office to view the memory, locking the door behind them, the boy's privacy still needed some respect.