DISCLAIMER: Still don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does.

Prologue

I can hear his heart from across the bed, beating and alive, always beating. But I'm glad. Every pause between a beat my own heart freezes in fear, a fear that won't leave even after all this time, even after the battle…the war…the pain. But it's still beating and that's all that matters.

I sit up in bed and try to focus my eyes in the early morning darkness. The birds are singing a phoenix song out in the real world, outside the hotel window. It's pretty. I almost sing along- but I would rather not have to grace Hogsmead with my terrible voice.

Hogsmead has already suffered enough.

I pick up my wand from the bedside cabinet, and after uttering a quick 'Lumos', re read the note my Grandpa Jack left for me…before…before his untimely demise.

Seems you were right, Lav, the wolves really are descending.

It's simple and scribbled and barely even readable but it still sends the shivers down my spine. Its horrible knowing the way my grandpa died was almost the way I met my end.

But my hearts still beating and that's all that matters.

So if I'm going to tell this story I better tell it right, and start from the beginning. The day before the beginning of seventh year, was just as normal as any other…almost….