So yeah, this is kinda just a test. I can't say if this will become any bigger, I just wanna thrown an idea out there because I like it.

CHAPTER 0

He tapped his fingers against his elbow, hands somewhat gripping his arms. He shivered. It was cold.

Looking around, there was still nobody around, causing him to give an exasperated sigh. Where the hell was she!? It was beyond important that she got here soon, those killers would be making their way to Surrey soon and he had nowhere to hide if they did. Running was out of the question at this point, he may have been the captain of the track team, but he didn't think he could outrun magic.

Suddenly, he saw it. Smoke, distantly, above the houses lining Privet Drive.

They had already made their way to Surrey.

No, no nonononononono, he thought to himself, starting to sweat, shaking more, NONONONONON-

Pop

He jumped and turned, falling on his ass and looking behind where he was sitting, ready to reach for his custom Beretta 92F in his holster, but stopped himself when he saw the familiar bushy hair on a face with a pair of buck, slightly less than they used to be, teeth.

"Oh thank GOD you're here Granger!" he exclaimed, grabbing Hermione's shoulders, showing a brief flash of a cheery smile, before returning to a slightly unnerved look and continuing, "Look, we have to get out of her, the Dead Ite-"

"I know Dursley, I received word from Prof..." her words died on her lips, she looked through Dudley for a moment, before resuming, "Snape, I mean. He said they planned to raid Surrey as another show of power over the muggles. Also, I've told you at least a thousand times now, they are called Death Eaters, not Dead Ites or Dark Munchers or whatever new phrase you have, honestly."

Dudley flashed a smile while Hermione gave him a brief glare, before grabbing his hand and apparating away.

o - o - o - o - o

It had been 10 years since old Tom came back. What a long 10 years it had been. Living with no parents for most of your life while being forced into the saviour role can do a number on a man's personality and character, but to then be shunned by those same people in your teenage years for being a "fraud" and "lying to them" when you were as clueless as they, really did a number of your spirit.

So, what better than to drop out of school, as well as the drop off the map and let people believe you were killed by the same... thing... that killed your parents. The old goat at the school didn't particularly care, you were becoming more rebellious by the day, and now that you were of no use to him, left you to your own devices. Leaving the school was probably a Godsend for him, ridding you out of his hair. If he knew you happened to have established one of Britain's largest underground Muggle/Wizard crime syndicates, running illegally modified spell capsules to the IRA and C4 to good ol' George, he probably would give a damn. But as it was, he believed you dead and the crime syndicate was something he was completely unaware of.

But, there were some issues cropping up. Mainly, Voldemort was starting to creep onto your territory. Normally, that would've made you angry. But, given the circumstances, with Bellatrix leading the attack, you saw a chance to cause real damage. Her underestimation of muggles would bite her in the ass.

"Oi Luna," he called, looking behind as he stood up from his chair, "Would you mind putting Neville on the line? Tell him to round up the Non-Magical Defense Squad. If he asks why he's leading this attack, mention our sweet little Bella is leading the Death Eaters."

A blonde haired woman sprawled against a table, looking dreamily at the roof, turned her head, and said "Of course Charlus."

o-o-o-o-o

"Any luck with the boy yet Dumbledore?" a black haired man asked an older man, while handing him a plastic wrapped sweet. The old man seemed to be focusing intently on a house that looked ghastly, as if father time had been focusing all its powers in ravishing it. The windows were gone, paint was peeling, a tree had sprouted nearby, its roots destroying part of the foundation, yet the house remained, still standing as tall as it had 20 years before.

"None at all Sirius," Dumbledore replied, sighing as he did so "So many years, and still nothing. I wonder if there is any hope for the future at this rate..."

"We still have the Longbottom boy," Sirius responded sharply, focusing his attention on the house now, "If we could get his grandmother to tell us where he is..."

"Out of the question," Dumbledore sighed, "It has to be the child in the prophecy. While Neville met the conditions, he never survived the killing curse or showed any particular powers like this one has."

"This doesn't sound like you Dumbledore," Sirius coughed out, a longing seen in his eyes, "I remember when you were so hopeful before, so cool, so collected. Now you're desperate. Why can't we just take the war to him ourselves-"

"We already lost Minnie," Dumbledore mumbled, "Fillius is as good as gone, Snape hasn't responded to me in months, Lupin ran when Charlus died. I won't do something that desperate unless we truly lose hope."

Sirius stared. The man had a point in some ways, but he just didn't want to believe any of those words were true. That his plan at this point was desperate compared to Voldemort's amassing army.

"Anyways Dumbledore, have you heard about the attack on Surrey?"

o - o - o - o - o

"Lucius," a snake like man rasped out, looking down at the man kneeling in front of him, "What is it that you request of me?"

The disheveled blond faced down, and gulped, knowing he'd suffer for what he was about to say. Then, he spoke.

"My lord, why have you enlisted my son to fight in these battles!" he knew he was shouting at a man that could end his life where he stood, but he didn't care, "You know that I can't produce another heir, if I lose Draco the Malfoy line will be-"

"Silence," the Dark Lord uttered, waving his hand, forcing Malfoy to be quiet, "I expect you to follow orders, not question them. Your son wanted to join us, and he will be expected to provide the same help every other Death Eater has provided," a small smirk found its way onto Voldemort's face, "Speaking of, Lucius, your monetary help has been less than useful after the tide of the war changed," the blond man looked up, wide eyed, "I expect more from you as well. Now leave before I do something you'll regret."

Lucius sat there for a second, looking at the Dark Lord, but when he saw him reach of his wand, he knew it was time to vacate. Not even offering a goodbye, he went to the door, but a voice stopped him.

"Oh, and Lucius," Voldemort bared his teeth in a smile, "There is a gift waiting for you in your planning room. Your wench should know better than to plot against me."

Lucius only saw red in that moment, but knowing he could do nothing, he ran to the planning room.

o - o - o - o - o

Harry continued to wait. He didn't know how long, but he would always wait until...