Harry Potter is not your average wizard. Oh no. He is the greatest wizard of the century, an icon in the wizarding world. Voldemort was nothing but a memory in most peoples minds, after that fateful night in Godrics Hollow. All he remembers though, and what he is remembering now as we join him, is a blinding flash of green, a piercing scream and an evil laugh filling the room.

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There were beads of sweat rolling down Harry's forehead as he calmed himself down. Swinging his legs off the bed, the Boy-who-lived stealthily left the confines of his dormitory, hidden under his cloak of invisibility.

Outside in the darkness the wind cooled his skin, as he skirted the black lake, looking over the still water, to the place that had become his home over the years. Dumbeldore seemed to have overlooked that though, and still insisted on putting him with those dirtbags, the Dursleys. If ever there was an example of bad muggles, they were that.

But as Harry was lost in thought, he failed to notice the shadows behind him. One large, tall and broad, one small and feminine. Despite their proximity to Harry, he still failed to see them, that is, until the larger of the two leapt upon him, pinning him to the ground with his weight. Harry glimpsed a girl he vaguely recognised before darkness took over his vision and they simply popped away.

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