I don't own Harry Potter

Prologue

It'd been two weeks since Harry had watched Cedric die and Voldemort return but the visions still hadn't left him, every time he went to sleep, closed his eyes, even when he was being forced to work as the Dursley's personal house-elf, the visions of death would return to him.

As of now he was aimlessly wandering the streets of Little Whinging, hoping against hope that he'd return to Privet Drive to find that his friends had written something more than 'we hope you're ok' in their latest letters.

He turned another corner and wandered into a local park, there was nothing much there, a large patch of grass, a lonely set of swings, a solitary tree. No one was around given the lateness of the hour so Harry sat on one of the swings and stared up at the stars, wishing he could just leave this planet and all its problems behind.

All of a sudden, Harry heard a crack next to him. In a moment, Harry sprang to his feet, drew his wand and pointed it towards the source of the sound only to see nothing there. Slowing his breathing, Harry slipped his wand away and tuned around only to be thrown to the ground in shock.

Standing behind him, stood three nine-foot tall figures with red skin; monstrously large teeth; fluttering purple wings; suits of black armour which looked like they were made of some kind of scales and glittering black spears which practically emanated magic, all three of which were pointed at him.

"Harry Potter?" demanded the centre one in a loud, cold voice.