A/N: I'm not sure why I decided to revisit this story. I began writing it my sopohmore year of high school and I just got too busy to finish it (not to mention writer's block!). Now I'm halfway through my freshman year of college and, with nothing better to do over my break, I've decided to try and take this story somewhere. Any plot suggestions would be greatly appreciated!

Chapter 1: Becoming One

The town of Little Whinging was quiet. It was a humid July night, and the no-nonsense inhabitants of Number 4, Privet Drive, were soundly sleeping. That is, except for one 15 year old boy. He watched the luminous hands on his alarm clock slowly move, waiting for day to break. His vivid emerald green eyes reflected the hazy orange streetlamp outside his window. Barely visible under his mop of raven hair was a razor thin, lightning bolt scar.

Harry Potter was not your normal, average, every day teenager. Not only was he a wizard, but he also carried a very dark secret; a secret that only he and Dumbledore knew about. The knowledge that he had to kill or be killed haunted Harry all summer. When he wasn't having dreams about Voldemort, he was having dreams about Sirius. He always stood just beyond the veil in the Department of Mysteries. He was trying to talk to Harry, to tell him something, but Harry could never understand him. He knew one thing though; the dreams were getting more frequent and clearer each night. Harry often woke up, drenched in a cold sweat, shaking, wondering what it all meant.

Despite these nightmares, Harry was having a much better summer than the last. He received letters from Ron, Hermione, and sometimes Lupin every three days. They told him what the Ministry was doing, but never in detail in case the owls were intercepted. The Daily Prophet stopped ridiculing Harry, and now saw him as a real hero. This didn't stop Harry for canceling his subscription; in his opinion, it was a waste of Knuts.

Even the Dursleys weren't treating him as horrible as they had before. Harry suspected that Aunt Petunia had something to do with it; after all, she knew how serious Voldemort's return was. However, she didn't know about the prophecy. She had no idea what Harry was going through. She and Uncle Vernon wouldn't even let Dudley go out with his little friends. Surprisingly, Dudley was fine with that; he was afraid of normal wizards, and one that was on the loose to kill Harry made him want to curl up in a ball and cry like a baby. Uncle Vernon more or less ignored Harry, but Harry knew that he was afraid. This was proven one afternoon when Uncle Vernon hired a man to put in a home security system. When asked why, he said, "Haven't you heard of the recent crime wave?" Harry chuckled, thinking 'you mean your son and his cronies?'

Harry sat up in bed. It was 6:00 am, the perfect time to work out. He had been doing push-ups, sit-ups, and lifting some of Dudley's old weights to get back in shape after his ban from Quidditch. He wanted to make sure that he played his best, just to make Umbridge mad. He hated that old toad. He found that the exercise took his mind off of Sirius and the prophecy. At 8:00, he decided to head downstairs for some breakfast. He put on some jeans and a hoodie, and just as he turned the doorknob, he heard Aunt Petunia scream,

"Harry! Get down here!" He hurried down the stairs and into the living room, where the Dursley family was gathered around the TV. "Look!" she said, pointing at the TV. A news reporter was talking about a family with 2 small children that had apparently been murdered. Harry's insides went cold.

"…the cause of death is currently unknown, but doctors have ruled out poisoning, stabbing, hanging, suffocating, beating, shooting, drowning, and natural causes." Harry glanced at Dudley; his eyes were as big as dinner plates

"Well?" Aunt Petunia asked him.

"It's Voldemort," Harry whispered. She clasped her hands over her mouth.

"Vernon! Do something!" Uncle Vernon shot out of his chair and armed the security system. He locked all the doors and windows. Harry just shook his head. He knew that none of that would protect them. He went back upstairs and sat on his bed. This was the first unnatural death that he'd heard of since Voldemort came back. He got up and started pacing. Did Ron and Hermione know? What about Lupin? He decided to write them. Just as he found a clean piece of parchment, ink, and a quill, he heard a knock at his door.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"It's me, can I come in?" said a voice. The door opened to reveal Dudley.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Can I ask you some stuff?" he asked. Harry looked at him skeptically.

"I guess." Dudley came in and sat on Harry's bed. He heard it creak and groan under his weight. Dudley glanced around the room nervously, taking in the trunk in the corner, the spell books on the desk, and the wand sticking out of Harry's pocket. Then he looked at Harry.

"Who is Voldemort?" Harry sighed. How was he going to explain this to Dudley? It was like a five year old had just asked him where babies come from.

"Well…to know about Voldemort, first you have to know about blood. There are 4 types of wizards: pure bloods, half-bloods, muggle borns, and squibs. Pure bloods come from two pure blood parents, half bloods come from one muggle born and one pure blood or one muggle and one pure blood, muggle borns come from two muggle parents, and squibs have no magical powers but come from two pure bloods."

"Ok…" Dudley said, trying to take in all the information. "Then what does that have to do with Voldemort?"

"Well, Voldemort himself is a half blood, but not many people know that. He pretends to be a pure blood, and his goal is to purge the whole world of anything but pure blood wizards. Now me, I'm a half blood. My dad was a pure blood, but my mom was muggle born. My parents knew that Voldemort was after them, so they went into hiding. However, someone betrayed them, and sold them to Voldemort. He came and killed them, and when he tried to kill me, the curse rebounded, almost killing him. He's been waiting all these years for his followers to find him, and they finally have. Now he's back…" Harry said, trailing off. Dudley's mouth was gaping.

"So he's after you?" he asked.

"Mostly, but he'll kill anyone who gets in his way." Harry replied.

"Can't anyone stop him?"

"Well…" Harry hesitated. Should he tell him about the prophecy? He supposed it wouldn't make much difference. "I have to."

"What?"

"I have to kill him. If I don't, he'll kill me. I'm the only one who can stop him."

"Wow…" Dudley said, stunned. "I…I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for being so mean to you all these years…"

Now it was Harry's turn to be stunned. He couldn't believe that Dudley was apologizing, after beating him to a pulp so many times and treating him like garbage.

"You're kidding, right?" Harry asked.

"No, I'm not! It's just that…well if you're the only one who can save all of us…what are they called? Muggers?"

"Muggles," Harry said. "

"Right, those. Well if you're the only one who can save us, then I figure I'd better be nicer to you." He held out his hand. "Truce?" Harry shook it.

"Truce." Dudley stood up and left the room. Harry sat on his bed, still not believing his ears. It was like his two strange worlds were becoming one. It took him a moment to realize that he still had to write Ron, Hermione, and Lupin. He looked at the calendar hanging on his wall to date his letters, and with a jolt, realized that tomorrow was his 16th birthday. He finished up his letters and sat them on his desk; Hedwig was out hunting. He decided that, instead of waiting for her, he'd go downstairs and get something to eat