A/N: This is my new account, I formerly wrote under the alias blackenedsoul, but I have lost the password and what email I was using. This is a short introduction to my new story; all of the remaining chapters will be considerably longer. Please review if you want me to continue.

On this night the sky around Privet Drive was unusually dark. A block away down the quiet corner, the streetlights provided a dull and hazy film of light that softened the early morning. This street, however, might as well have disappeared into the heavy black horizon, for not even a single window's small square of light was visible. At the center of this curious darkness was number four, the small, modest house with overgrown rosebushes lining the front walk. This house stood as still and quiet as the others, but seemed to draw one in with a sense of deep, penetrating dread. Through the darkness, a sudden flash of heat lightning flickered across the midsummer sky, silently illuminating the darkened street.

Harry Potter woke with a start, gasping suddenly, fixing his gaze on the window of his small bedroom. The sky flickered twice more, the flashes flooding his room with a stark white light that vanished quickly. Exhaling slowly, Harry reached up and absently rubbed at his scar, his fingers caressing the subtle edge to his skin. He had dreamed of something so terrible, so wrong that it left him feeling extremely anxious. It had been like this all summer, ever since he had returned to the Dursley's following the disastrous Triwizard Tournament. These dreams, however, were not a horrific retelling of Cedric Diggory's death, but of something worse, something that frightened Harry more than any painful memory.

He stood in the stately office of Professor Dumbledore, surrounded by walls of horrified portraits, some screaming faintly in the background. He slowly lowered his wand and savoured the feeling of the weight resting atop his feet. He bent down, leaning over the mass before him, a dark red pool beginning to spread past his feet. Fascinated, he reached down, running his fingers and then his hands through the warm, velvet pool. Bringing his hands up to his face, he surveyed the dark red stain that covered his skin past the wrists. A warm rush erupted from his stomach and a feeling so content, so powerful, struck him so hard he closed his eyes briefly.

"No..." Harry whispered to himself, his hair falling in wet ringlets over his clammy forehead. Straightening up in bed and reaching for his glasses, he noted the subtle shake to his hands. Deciding he would never find the peace of mind to sleep through the rest of the night, he flicked on the lamp and felt relieved as the dark corners of his room became blindingly yellow. His eyes immediately caught sight of the small roll of parchment on his bedside table and he found himself unfurling it for the fifth time since it had arrived with Hedwig the previous evening.

Harry,

Please take care of yourself. I know it's hard to be alone, especially after what you have gone through, but I expect we'll be seeing each other very soon.

Sirius

Letting go of the corner and allowing the parchment to roll itself up once more, Harry placed it back on his nightstand and lay back on thin pillow behind him. Finding a small sense of optimism from his godfather's note he allowed some of the gnawing trepidation to leave him, he gazed longingly at his trunk, which he had packed and closed up after receiving Sirius's letter. He longed for the company of his friends and the safe feeling he found with Sirius. He had spent the whole summer in his room, surprised by the sudden indifference by his aunt and uncle regarding his chores. It was as though they sensed he was different somehow, no longer a little boy, and yet there was a puzzling tension in their distant stares that made him believe they were genuinely afraid of him. As much as this troubled him, the freedom this presented was too precious not to take advantage of.

Hedwig's sudden squawk interrupted his thoughts, as she came straight through the open window to land on top of his trunk. She gazed at him quizzically, her small talons clicking over the hard surface.

"I know, Hedwig," Harry said sympathetically. "I hope we're getting out of here soon."

Harry reached over to flick off his lamp, content to just lie down until the sun came up. While still sitting up in bed, Harry caught his own eye in his reflection on the window's glass, the image flashing bright with the bursts of lightning. On the third flash, his heart jumped up into his throat, pounding harshly. His face, his arms and his neck were splattered with dark, dried blood. He blinked harshly, vaguely catching sight of his reflection smiling sadistically back at him, before the flashes ceased and he was left in darkness once more.