DISCLAIMER: I do not, NOT, own any of the Harry Potter characters, except for the added one named 'Karine'...rated PG-13 just to be safe! Now on with our story! Bwah ha ha ha!

Rain began to flood empty streets and alleys, and the light of the moon shone in the dark of night. The wind blew strong as trees flowed flawlessly to its rhythm, calmly swaying in every direction. Nonetheless, the occupants of Privet Drive slept peacefully-fully unaware that it had started to downpour on their beautiful neighborhood. After all, it had been clear and sunlit earler that day.

A teenage boy stirred in his sleep, switching his position in his bed uncomfortably. He felt himself fading away within his nightmare-loosing control of all the humane and cheerful thoughts that he had known. He was lost inside himself and his fears...and only hoped that any minute he would awake, and the mixed emotions would finally be gone. But right now all he could do was wait until it was over.

He was running down a hallway, following his two best friends that seemed extremely far ahead of him. He had called for them countless times by now to wait-but they didn't acknoweledge him. Instead they tore down another hall. He ran faster, turning to hurry after them...but they were no longer there. Instead he was now chasing a mysterious girl.

Suddenly he yelled for her as if he'd known her. Surprisingly she stopped and waited-but she didn't turn around.

He was confused by this somehow, but hurried to her before she ran off again. As he caught up with her, he paused behind her to catch his breath. After regaining himself he waited for her to turn to face him. She didn't budge or answer when he had greeted her, so he reached up and poked her in the shoulder gently a few times. Finally she turned around, and at once he had wished she didn't.

It was the most terrifying thing he had ever seen. As soon as he looked into her dark crystal eyes, he became mesmerized as if she had him in a trance. Suddenly, flashing images of lifeless bodies took over him. First there was a small girl with flaming red hair; she lay on a stone cold floor as trickles of blood traced down her cheek. He turned away and back, now facing a boy with the same ginger hair, only he was a little older and taller. His eyes were open and the pupils were gone-his face showed no emotion. Then it flashed again to a girl with bushy chestnut hair who was curled up as her pale face stared up at him: she too, was dead.

That was how it continued, showing more and more of his friends and loved ones flash before his eyes, all lifeless. And when he was brought back to the girl with those crystal eyes, all she did was laugh before she dissapeared.

Finally he was awaken from the loud barging in of his large and extremely overweight uncle, who suddenly turned the colour of a plum.

"Harry Potter, you get that ruddy bird of yours out of our kitchen at once or I will do away with it myself!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, not hesitating the least to send spit flying Harry's way. Uncle Vernon then huffed out, slamming the door firmly behind.

Harry sighed angrily as he lifted his legs over the end of his small bed. He was not a normal boy, as most know, and the way he saw it-that didn't really matter. After fifteen years of being the center of attention in every wizard's conversation, Harry didn't really care anymore. He'd much father be an unheard wizard and have people ignore him instead of murmur about him all of the time. Though it was no offense towards one of his best mates, he'd much rather be like Ron Weasley, who had exactly 10 brothers and 1 sister, dad, and mum. He adored absolutely everything about Ron's family-their lopsided home at the Burrow, his father's fascination with Muggles, and the way his family always made you feel at home. It was what he looked foward to after every finished year at Hogwarts.

He had sent Ron owls many times now after he had invited him to stay at the Burrow, saying that he would gladly come. Every day for the past 2 months he waited for an owl back, but nothing came. And Harry was starting to get worried; very worried. It was not like Ron to take this long to reply to a letter. This had made Harry think of all the possible things that could have happened, and most were not pleasant. But he assured himself that it was nothing, and went on with the day, which included ignoring the Dursleys and finishing up homework for the start of term. Which, by the way, he had not even got started on.

But today, Harry could do nothing but think about his dream as he replayed it in his mind repetitively. He had unnacountable delusions before, but this one was different. How could he picture his friends in a state of matter like that? Why would he? Those were a couple of the questions he couldn't help but want answered as he headed down the steps to another day of torment.

He couldn't help but laugh as he watched his owl Hedwig fluttering around in circles at his Aunt Petunia and cousing Dudley. Petunia was yelling fearfully at him to get Hedwig away from them. He regained his composure and held out his arm to his owl. She hooted happily and rested her feet on his arm, and he carried her back up into her cage.

"One of these days, boy...that bird will be out of here!" Aunt Petunia snapped, pursing her lips in a frustrated manner. "Dudders, dear, would you get the post?"

Dudley shifted his weight to the other side of the armchair he plopped himself into, and grunted. He shoved a cookie into his mouth and kept his eyes on the television, watching a bananna dance around in a commercial advertising fruits. He whined at his mother when she asked him this, and right away she turned to Harry, shooting him a stern glare.

"Well go on," she said heatedly, "get our mail!" Harry just ignored her, but walked to the door and picked up a small pile of letters that were laying before it. He looked at them all, and spotted 2 of them were addressed under his name. He quickly hid them in his back pocket before walking back into the living room to hand them to his aunt, who snatched them out of his hands nastily and rummaged through them.

"Goodness, Vernon, every one of these letters are bills! Oh, and here's a postcard from Jillian..." Harry heard her say as he rushed back up the stairs and to his room. He shut the door behind him and jumped onto his bed and set the two letters in front of him. One was the usual letter from Hogwarts and, finally, a letter from Ron. He picked up Ron's letter first [which was extremely hefty than usual], ripping open the top of the envelope. He pulled out a peice of parchment and an old shoe as began to read:

Harry,

Jeez, sorry about not answering your letters, mate. Just been busy with many things and my family, of course. I was gonna write you last week before Fred and George barged into my room and told me [actually yelled loudly] that we were going to Romania to visit Charlie! ...And I never got back to writing you. But man do I have loads to tell you! How we got enough money to go there is beyond me...I'm guessing it had something to do with Fred and George, considering their booming business with the joke shop.

Charlie showed us the new dragons that were sent in. And we even saw Norbert! Whoa, he was huge. And he didn't even remember me [I could tell when he tried to bite my arm off]. At least Hagrid'll be happy to know that his 'Norbie' is in a safe place, especially with Charlie. I know he'll take good care of him.

About you coming to the Burrow-of course! Did you get the shoe? Yeah, sorry it smells, it's George's-not mine. That's a portkey, so when you're done packing and everything be sure to touch that with both hands and hopefully you'll be here with us in a few seconds! Don't worry, it's supposed to make you feel sick-happens to me all of the time. Hope you get here soon-Ginny hasn't left me alone since I sent this bloody letter.

Yours,

Ron

Harry smiled to himself and put the letter back into the envelope, placing it on his desk. He opened his closet door and rolled out his trunk, which had been packed with his things for weeks. He'd expected Ron's letter earlier, but now that he knew what happened, he understood. He pulled on clean clothes, considering he wouldn't want to appear in the Weasley's home with his striped pajamas on. After brushing his teeth...and attempting to do the same to his hair...he grabbed the shoe with one hand, holding it as far out as he could. Ron was right, it did smell.

He didn't even bother calling down to the Dursleys and letting them know he was going-they would figure it out eventually when they noticed he wasn't in his bed the next morning. They hardly ever cared to take the time to look at him anyhow. He settled his trunk next to him, backed away from his bed, and slowly placed his other hand on the shoe. Immediately he felt a strange sensation throughout his body. It was like he was being twisted apart, and his stomach lurched. He felt like he was going to be sick. He hated portkeys.

After what seemed like countless hours of spinning in a dark atmosphere, he was immediately standing in Ron's bedroom, who was snoring away. He decided not to wake him yet, and so he opened up his trunk and put the letter he had recieved from Ron inside before shutting it again. Ron's flaming red hair was sticking out in all directions, and he had all of the blankets tucked tightly into him like he was some sort of tortilla. Harry found this hilarious, and he grabbed the shoe Ron had sent him and tossed it at his head. Right away Ron shot up from his bed, a hand on his forehead.

"Blimey, George, can't you just let me sleep once without pummeling me with your smelly shoes?" Ron mumbled as he opened his eyes to see Harry laughing histarically at his expense. Ron brought a smile to his face and jumped out of his bed.

"I was at least expecting you to come at a decent hour. How are you, mate?" Ron said excitedly as he shook Harry's hand before picking up his trunk, practically throwing it on his unkept bed. Harry had suddenly realized that it wasn't like him to come so early, but he figured it was worth getting away from Privet Drive. Ron laughed when Harry mentioned the fact that he never told the Dursleys he was leaving. They gradually drew themselves into a long discussion about the upcoming Quidditch season at Hogwarts when they heard a loud calling come from downstairs.

"Ron! Come down here this instant!" Mrs. Weasley screeched at the foot of the steps. Ron's ears went pink as he and Harry left his room, and down to meet with his obviously furious mother. Ron couldn't recall being in trouble, and hoped that Fred and George hadn't pulled something as they walked down the stairs.