Disclaimer: All the characters from Harry Potter are the property of JK Rowling, I'm just having some fun with them. Also don't know if I have to keep posing disclaimers, please let me know, I'm brand new to the world of fan fiction

Harry Potter awoke with his scar aflame. His emerald eyes flashed as he sat upright in bed and reached for his glasses on the bedside table. The room came into focus as he put the round glasses on. Even after a month, Harry had to do a double take at his room. It was an almost mirror image of his dorm room at Hogwarts; four poster bed, red and gold window shades and posters of Quidditch teams adorned the walls.

On the dresser, a large cage sat empty, the window flung open as the soft glow of the street lights filtered through casting a dim gold and scarlet haze across the room. Harry slid out of bed and crossed to the mirror hanging off the back of his door.

Looking back at him was a skinny black haired boy who had the slightly stretched look of someone who had grown several inches in a short amount of time. Brilliant green eyes shone out from behind glasses and shaggy raven-feathered hair.

Closing his eyes, Harry tried to remember what exactly had woken him up. He had been in a dark room in a house that he didn't recognize. A fire provided the only illumination, casting shadows all over the room. A high backed chair was facing the fire with an enormous snake curled up on the tattered rug at the feet of the chair, in some twisted travesty of a dog.

There had been two voices that Harry heard, the first voice, a weak, watery voice, the other was high, cold like an icy wind and while soft like a whisper, it seemed to fill the whole room.

Harry shivered as he recognized the voices. The first had belonged to Wormtail, the rat who had betrayed Harry's parents, James and Lily, to Voldemort. Harry felt a spike of rage flood his mind as remembered meeting Wormtail for the first time less than a month previously. Wormtail, whose real name was Peter Pettigrew, a wizard long thought dead, had been found out by Sirius Black, Harry's godfather. Sirius had been wrongly imprisoned for betraying the Potters to Voldemort and killing Pettigrew along with twelve Muggles.

But at the end of Harry's third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Wormtail had been captured by Harry and his two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Sirius had been vindicated and set free. However, Wormtail had somehow escaped Ministry control in route to being taken to Azkaban prison.

The second voice belonged to Lord Voldemort, the man/being formerly known as Tom Riddle. Voldemort had been the most powerful Dark wizard of all time, he had been steadily gaining power and followers for over a decade until one fateful Halloween night nearly thirteen years ago. Voldemort, for reasons only known to him, had attacked the Potters, and after murdering James and Lily turned his wand on one-year-old Harry and cast the curse that had disposed of countless full-grown wizards and witches.

(A/N: dream is same as Harry receives in Goblet of Fire chapter two)

And somehow the curse didn't work. It rebounded on its caster, stripping Voldemort of his powers and body, leaving him clinging to life. Harry had survived the attack with only a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

Many felt that Voldemort was defeated but that wasn't so. After a decade of suffering at the hands of his only living relatives, the Dursleys, Harry Potter had returned to the magical world in a whirlwind. But with the return of Harry Potter came the near return of Voldemort, who had possessed Professor Quirrell in an attempt to steal the Sorcerer's Stone in an attempt to regain his body. But the plot had been foiled by Harry and his friends.

And speaking of his friends, Harry thought what they would say if they knew that his scar had hurt.

Hermione's voice, shrill and panicky, filled his mind, 'Harry, you scar hurt. Write to Professor Dumbledore while I check Common Magical Aliments, maybe it can shed some light on it.'

Harry chuckled at his mind's version of Hermione's advice, write to Dumbledore while she would check a book. The previous year Harry might have taken her advice to heart, at least about Dumbledore, but Harry was at odds with the Headmaster at the moment. Albus Dumbledore was widely considered the greatest wizard of his age but Harry had at a falling out with Dumbledore at the end of the school term. Dumbledore had insisted that Harry return to the Dursleys' because "Harry is protected there." Sirius retorted, "FROM WHO? Maybe Voldemort and his Death Nibblers but certainly not from his so-called family."

Shaking the recollection of the argument from his mind, Harry turned his head to his other best friend, Ron Weasley, and Ron's voice quickly filled his head, 'Your scar hurt, but You-Know-Who can't be near you, can he? Maybe curse scars twinge a bit, I'll ask Dad.'

Ron's father, Arthur Weasley, worked for the Ministry of Magic in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, Harry didn't think that Mr. Weasley would have much experience with curse scars, in fact Harry thought, that on one would because as far as he knew, Harry was the only one to ever survive a Killing Curse.

'Hopefully Sirius or Moony will know what to do, I'll talk to them in the morning. No need to wake them up now,' Harry mused, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. It was 2:37am. 'Yeah, I'll talk to Sirius and Moony in the morning and see what they suggest.'

Harry fell back onto his bed and was asleep by the time his head hit the pillow, the pain in his scar forgotten.

The door cracked open, a tall dark haired man along with a brown haired, liberally flecked with gray, man crept into the room, the floorboards creaking audibly only to their ears. The dark haired man waved his wand conjuring a bucket of water and floated it over the sleeping boy's head. Counting down with his fingers, the dark haired man waved his wand once more, causing the bucket to overturn.

The boy sleeping, bolted upright, waving a wand of his own and a shimmering blue shield appeared and the water bounced off the conjured shield and doused the shocked pranksters-turned-prankees.

Spluttering Sirius Black and Remus Lupin stumbled backward, wiping their eyes clear of the water. Meanwhile, Harry was rolling on the bed howling with laughter.

"Did you really think that I wouldn't put some type of alarm after the last time you two pulled that kind of stunt?" Harry choked out.

"I didn't detect any magical wards," Sirius said defensively.

"Who said I used magic? Don't you two watch movies," Harry said smugly. He pointed to his desk chair and then to his door. Seeing the still confused looks on his godfather and uncle's faces, Harry hopped off the bed, walked over to the door and closed it with a snap. Then he opened it again, however this time, his desk chair moved slightly as if jostled by an invisible wind.

Sirius and Remus looked at each other with defeated expression on both faces.

"Come on old timers, time for breakfast," Harry laughed as he left the room. The two elder Marauders followed. The trio entered the kitchen where Dobby was busy making breakfast.

"Good morning Master Harry," Dobby squealed. Harry rolled his eyes, ever since coming to live at Grimmauld Place with Sirius and, and Dobby coming along for the ride, the ever excitable house elf had taken to calling Harry, 'Master Harry,' no matter what Harry did to try and dissuade him of the notion.

"Morning Dobby," Harry said. "This looks great."

The house elf beamed as he set the table. Sirius and Lupin echoed the sentiment when they sat down at the table.

Harry looked around the table, still in awe at how he came to be living with his godfather Sirius Black and his former Defense against the Dark Arts professor, Remus Lupin. Sirius had offered to take Harry away from the Dursleys and come live with him at the end of last term. And Harry had jumped at the chance, Dumbledore had tried to protest but after hearing that Harry hadn't considered Privet Drive home since he had come to Hogwarts, the Headmaster bowed to the inevitable.

Harry left Privet Drive the very next day and moved in with Sirius and Lupin at Grimmauld Place, Sirius' childhood home. There had been some rough spots in the beginning as Sirius had forsaken his family and run away from home at 16, he had vowed to never to return.

But, as Dumbledore pointed out, the house was protected by every means known to wizarding kind and Sirius reluctantly agreed. So it was the perfect place to hide from the world during the summer holiday. Sirius, Harry and Lupin had spent the first month of the holiday cleaning and rearranging the house, which hadn't seen inhabitants in nearly a decade, as Sirius' parents had died just before and after Sirius was sent to prison.

One of the first rooms they had cleaned aside from the bedrooms and kitchen was the attic, which was then transformed into a training gym by Sirius and Lupin. Both men had then set aside time each day training Harry in both magical and Muggle means of defense.

"What's wrong cub?" Sirius asked over the edge of his Daily Prophet. Remus looked up from his coffee.

"I had this weird dream last night with Wormtail," both men bristled at the name of the traitor, "and Voldemort," Harry finished. The relaxed atmosphere in the kitchen instantly vanished at the sound of the name.

"Dream?" Sirius asked, staring intently at Harry, his eyes reverting back to the sunken look that twelve years in Azkaban had given him and only recently had begun to lose.

Harry recounted the details of the dream to Sirius and Lupin, pausing only to wet his throat. He tried to sound non-chalet but he knew the two men sitting across from him were masters at reading people, they had to be in order to get away with the pranks they had pulled during their youth.

Sirius and Lupin exchanged a look when Harry finished his tale.

"Well Harry, I'm not going to lie to you and say this is nothing you should concern yourself with, cause it isn't. I was hoping to wait until you were older to tell you this but since Dumbledore would probably wait until it was too late," Sirius said heavily.

"Do you know why Voldemort came after you and your parents?" Harry shook his head, a sense of foreboding and dread filling him. "There was a prophecy created just before you were born. It said 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to hose who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…"

"So what does that mean?" Harry asked softly.

"It means that, according to this prophecy, that the only person who can kill Voldemort once and for all is you," Remus said.

Harry took a deep breath and blew it through his nose, running a hand through his hair. "So it'll come down to me or him," Harry muttered, more to himself but both Sirius and Lupin heard him.

"Looks like it," Sirius said.

"Good," Harry growled. Both Marauders gaped at Harry. "What, you think I'm not scared, I'm terrified but I guess deep down I always knew it would come down to me and Tom," he finished, sounding centuries older than he looked.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll meet you two upstairs," Harry said, getting up from the table, his breakfast half eaten. Sirius made to follow him but Remus laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Let him go, he needs to figure this out for himself, as much as we'd rather him not have to," Lupin said. Sirius nodded.

Harry walked back to his room, so deep in his thoughts that he didn't realize that he had a visitor in the room. That was until something collided with the side of his head, looking up Harry saw what looked like a flying gray tennis ball buzzing around. A soft yet disgruntled hoot came from the dresser.

Harry's owl, Hedwig, had returned and was glaring at the miniature owl that was currently orbiting Harry's head, hooting frantically.

"Come here," Harry said, snatching the tiny owl out of the air. A letter was attached to the leg of the owl. Unfurling the letter, Harry recognized the untidy scrawl of his best friend, Ron Weasley.

'Harry - Dad got the tickets! Ireland vs. Bulgaria, Monday night! I sent Pig to invite you, Sirius and Professor Lupin to come with us to the World Cup. Hermione's already here, so send Pig back pronto if you three can make it - Ron.'

A brief grin flitted across Harry's face as he finished the letter, 'This would be a great way to unwind,' he thought.

"I'll talk to Moony and Padfoot after training. I'm sure that they won't mind," Harry said. "And I'm sure that Fred and George would love to meet some of the original Marauders.

There came a soft knock on the door, Harry turned to see Lupin leaning against the doorframe.

"Hey there Moony," Harry said.

"Late delivery I guess," Lupin said, nodding toward the letter in Harry's hand.

"Yeah, a letter from Ron. His dad was able to get tickets for the Quidditch World Cup and he invited us along," Harry said. "Can we go?"

"Go where?" Sirius asked appearing in the doorway aside Moony.

"Ron's dad got tickets to the World Cup this Monday and he invited us."

Sirius turned to Lupin and adopting a high-pitched whiny voice, "Can we go Moony please? I'll never ask you for anything ever again."

Harry looked away, trying not to laugh. Lupin was also fighting back a smile, stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"All right, I guess you two have behaved so this will be your reward," he answered. Sirius and Harry each gave a whoop of laughter and began jumping up and down in a circle doing a sort of war chant, "We're going to the CUP, We're going to the CUP!"

"That's enough you two. Harry, you better send a reply to Ron, we'll Floo over tomorrow afternoon," Lupin said. "Now Harry, once you're done, meet us upstairs and don't forget your gear."

Harry nodded and grabbed a spare piece of parchment from his desk and a quill. He quickly scribbled off a reply to Ron and gave it to Hedwig.

"I'll see you at Ron's tomorrow, ok girl," Harry said. Hedwig hooted softly before spreading her wings and flying out the open window, Pig following close behind.