A/N: I started writing this before Order of the Phoenix came out. I'm
sorry, but he's just not dead. It wouldn't fit if he were. So I'm
pretending that didn't happen. However, everything else fits perfectly, so
I will say this is a slight AU, based on books 1-5.
This is just a prologue, hopefully to get people interested. Most of this story won't take place in Harry's point of view.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Really. I wouldn't be here if I did.
Lost - Prologue/Chapter One: How Harry Was Lost
The luminous clock on the bedside table struck midnight. Harry Potter stared at it for a moment, and then turned to his open window. Sure enough, a small pack of owls flew into his room, one after the other, all bearing letters and packages. Harry smiled. He was now sixteen years old, and here was his birthday party.
He opened his gift slowly, savoring each one. Letters of comfort and reassurance accompanied various books on defense spells, dark detectors, and a wand tuning kit. His friends obviously felt that Harry needed to protect himself.
And with good reason. The Dark Lord Voldemort had gone public. Harry no longer had to search the paper for news of Voldemort. All his movements made the front page. Apparently, Dumbledore had made it clear who was in charge of the defenses. Most of it was going to Harry.
He could no longer walk outside without at least two people tailing him. They sat outside his house, waiting for him to come out, and then followed him around the small town. Harry often waved, but never got any response.
Placing his presents safely under the bed of his small room, Harry glanced toward the window. He sat at the windowsill, looking out at the night.
Harry could see the glimmer of a single watcher. Other than that, the street was empty. Waving to his guardian, Harry opened his bedroom door, grabbing his cloak, and snuck outside.
He sat down in the garden, looking up at the sky, and wondering what would happen now that Voldemort had returned, knowing he'd be directly affected. Harry wished he could forget the prophecy, and go on feeling normal, or at least as close to normal as he had felt, but he could not.
Harry hated Voldemort. All the bad things that had happened to him were because of Voldemort. But to kill him?... Harry wasn't sure he could.
Standing, Harry walked across the street toward his guardian. He felt that he needed company right now - whoever it was.
He had a brief glimpse of Tonks's violently pink hair, before a hand closed around his chest and mouth. He felt a jerk behind his navel, and soon couldn't move to struggle, much less scream.
A/N: Short, but a prologue. I hope to do better with this than I am with Mark Evans. I like it better, anyway. Please review, and tell me what you think! Thanks and answers will be in the next chapter.
This is just a prologue, hopefully to get people interested. Most of this story won't take place in Harry's point of view.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Really. I wouldn't be here if I did.
Lost - Prologue/Chapter One: How Harry Was Lost
The luminous clock on the bedside table struck midnight. Harry Potter stared at it for a moment, and then turned to his open window. Sure enough, a small pack of owls flew into his room, one after the other, all bearing letters and packages. Harry smiled. He was now sixteen years old, and here was his birthday party.
He opened his gift slowly, savoring each one. Letters of comfort and reassurance accompanied various books on defense spells, dark detectors, and a wand tuning kit. His friends obviously felt that Harry needed to protect himself.
And with good reason. The Dark Lord Voldemort had gone public. Harry no longer had to search the paper for news of Voldemort. All his movements made the front page. Apparently, Dumbledore had made it clear who was in charge of the defenses. Most of it was going to Harry.
He could no longer walk outside without at least two people tailing him. They sat outside his house, waiting for him to come out, and then followed him around the small town. Harry often waved, but never got any response.
Placing his presents safely under the bed of his small room, Harry glanced toward the window. He sat at the windowsill, looking out at the night.
Harry could see the glimmer of a single watcher. Other than that, the street was empty. Waving to his guardian, Harry opened his bedroom door, grabbing his cloak, and snuck outside.
He sat down in the garden, looking up at the sky, and wondering what would happen now that Voldemort had returned, knowing he'd be directly affected. Harry wished he could forget the prophecy, and go on feeling normal, or at least as close to normal as he had felt, but he could not.
Harry hated Voldemort. All the bad things that had happened to him were because of Voldemort. But to kill him?... Harry wasn't sure he could.
Standing, Harry walked across the street toward his guardian. He felt that he needed company right now - whoever it was.
He had a brief glimpse of Tonks's violently pink hair, before a hand closed around his chest and mouth. He felt a jerk behind his navel, and soon couldn't move to struggle, much less scream.
A/N: Short, but a prologue. I hope to do better with this than I am with Mark Evans. I like it better, anyway. Please review, and tell me what you think! Thanks and answers will be in the next chapter.
