Chapter 1: Magnolia Road

Summer was drawing to a close but humidity hung stubbornly over Privet Drive. A scrawny, bespectacled boy, with messy black hair curled up on his bed in a tiny room in number four. His eyes were glassy and faraway. This had become a routine for Harry Potter for the past two months. He would curl up in his bed, which he was quickly outgrowing, and reminisce about his reunion with his godfather Sirius Black three years ago. He would then berate himself for Sirius's death and fantasize about the home he had dreamt of sharing with Sirius, which he knew at the back of his head, would never materialise.

It was a week before he was due for school; however, he had received no letter whatsoever from his magical friends indicating their intentions of picking him up from the Dursley's. Not that he really cared. Not anymore. The Dursleys had been somewhat civilised to him after Mad-Eye Moody and Mr. Weasley's verbal warning to treat Harry nicer. His uncle, who usually enjoyed making Harry's life a living hell, had totally ignored him after his return this summer. Not that Harry was complaining. Unlike the past five summers, Harry felt perfectly fine to be trapped in this house in Little Whinging. Still, he did not understand why it was so hard to fall asleep that night. He checked his watch. It was two o'clock in the morning.

Harry decided that he needed to let out his pent-up frustration. He grabbed his broomstick, a Firebolt, and crept down the stairs, careful not to wake his Uncle and Aunt up. He passed the dark living room, the streetlights casting ghoulish shadows behind him. When he was out on the neatly trimmed lawn, he mounted his Firebolt excitedly and took off into the sky. He flew in circles for awhile, feeling the adrenaline rush, as he did what would probably sent his Uncle Vernon into fits if he had seen him. Uncle Vernon had always been disdainful of the world that Harry and his parents belonged to. He would rather dance naked in a crowd then admit that he had a Wizard for a nephew.

Harry sniggered as he dived headfirst into the gravel driveway below. The Wronski Feint. He had seen Viktor Krum, the international Bulgarian Quidditch seeker, doing it at the Quidditch World Cup two years ago and Harry had been practising hard to master this stunt ever since. When he was about ten feet from the ground, he saw his cousin Dudley standing rooted to the driveway, mouth agape and staring at Harry dumbly. The distraction caused Harry to swerve upward a second too late and he felt his right arm grazed the rough pavement as he rolled off the broom and landed a few feet away. Dudley immediately stepped out of his trance, picked up Harry's broomstick and walked purposefully into the house. He had been trying to get Harry into trouble with his uncle but was greatly disappointed every time he realised that he was not going to get his treat. That had not stopped Dudley from trying.

Harry quickly ran into the house after his cousin's massive figure but the din Dudley was making already woke Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia up. Uncle Vernon was in his blue pyjamas and Aunt Petunia in her pink nightgown. They looked thoroughly annoyed at having been awoken. Harry noticed, to his amazement, that their pyjamas appeared creaseless. That was an idea of how prim the Dursley were.

"What is it, Diddy?" Aunt Petunia said with sleep filled voice.

"Mom, Harry was flying on his broom right outside our house," Dudley said.

"What!" shouted Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon at the same time. That seemed to have jolted them awake entirely.

"Are you crazy?" Uncle Vernon whispered loudly, "the neighbours could have seen you!"

Harry shrugged, which seemed to aggravate Uncle Vernon even more. "Give me back my Firebolt!" Harry demanded. He was not really afraid of his Uncle and his family anymore. He was sixteen and he knew magic.

Uncle Vernon looked at the broomstick still held in Dudley's hand. He looked like he was about to yell for his son to "drop that unnaturalness" any moment but seemed to thought the better of it and stride over to Dudley. He took the broom from him. "I'm confiscating this," he said shrewdly.

"No you're not," Harry challenged, whipped out his wand and pointed them at his Uncle.

"You know you're not allowed to use that," Uncle Vernon warned though Harry was sure he saw a trace of worry on his uncle's face.

"Well, I wasn't last year but I did," Harry said smugly. Aunt Petunia's face turned white, which was a great contrast to Uncle Vernon's red and purple one. He heaved Harry's broom across the length of the living room and it slid to a stop near the boarded up fireplace.

"You know, I don't really care what your freak friends would do," he said angrily, "but I want you out of my house. Out! Out! Out! Go find your murderer of a godfather! I've had enough of you and your ungratefulness!"

Harry felt an immense fury growing within him. How dare he throw the broom that Sirius had bought for Harry and then talk about him that way? He wanted to hex this man in front of him into oblivion. Gold and red sparks emitted from the tip of his wand dangerously. He is not worth it, Harry told himself. He lowered his wand after a minute of internal struggle and pocketed it, all the while, the Dursley were looking at him with sick apprehension. Uncle Vernon's face twitched as it broke into a victorious smirk. The next thing he knew, Harry felt his fist landed squarely on Uncle Vernon's fleshy nose and ran out of the house.

Tears blinded his visions as he sprinted down the empty road of Privet Drive, the emotions that he had been trying to contain within him was suddenly released in torrents. He found himself in the neighbourhood playground once again and remembered with a shiver about the Dementors attack exactly a year ago. He sat on one of the new swings, which had replaced the old one broken by Dudley and his hooligan friends.

He did not know how long he sat there thinking about Sirius. He had not noticed, until that moment, something in the air, beyond the trees and houses, that made Harry's blood turned cold.

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Janieve Walker pulled her pink Wrangler to a stop outside the wrought iron gate that guarded the front of her house. She pressed the electronic gadget fixated in her car and the gate sprang opened.

"Sure you don't want to invite me in?" Her boyfriend asked from the passenger side.

"Will, it's late," Janieve said tiredly, "and my parents are home."

"Alright," Will said, shrugging nonchalantly. He pushed open the passenger door and turned back to Janieve. "I'll see…" but the rest of his words were frozen in his mouth as he looked ahead at Janieve's house. "What the fuck is that?" he whispered.

Janieve twisted around in her seat and saw bright shimmering green smoke hanging sinisterly above her house. On careful look, it was in the shape of a colossal skull, and a serpent near the mouth.

Without hesitation, Janieve sprang out of her car and ran up the driveway which led to her front porch. Her sneakers thudded noisily against the ground in the otherwise quiet night. She could hear Will running some distance behind her.

Suddenly, she came to a halt. Two hooded figures, with masks over their faces, stood eerily on her front porch. Janieve could see in the darkness that there were holding a weird looking, rod-shaped object in each of their hands. Janieve felt a cold sense of dread and she spun around and ran back towards her car.

"Will! Back to the car!" she yelled frantically to her boyfriend. She did not understand why but she knew something was wrong. She waved at him to turn back but he remained stationary on his spot, confused by what Janieve was trying to tell him.

A jet of red light shot past Janieve and hit Will squarely on the chest. There was a look of shock registered on his face, then, as if in slow motion, he fell backward stiffly.

"Will!" Janieve rushed forward with one last surge of energy and keeled over her boyfriend's collapsed form. He laid there motionless, the look of shock still on his face and Janieve felt frantically for a pulse. None.

The next instant, she felt a blow in her back and she too, fell forward, sprawled over Will's dead body.

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Harry saw a flash of red light and a crouching figure toppled over. He had followed the Dark Mark onto Magnolia Road and found it hanging upon a house. No, a mansion. He saw two hooded figures running out of the driveway towards the fallen victim. Death Eaters, he though darkly, his wand clenched tightly in his hand.

He was debating whether he should run up to them and stop them or stay hidden where he was. The Death Eaters were grown, dark wizards and Harry was merely a student in sorcery. There was no way he could beat them. Still, the victim could be alive…

He did not have to consider long for suddenly six wizards apparated out of thin air to block the Death Eaters from the victim. Harry felt a surge of hope as he ran forward to meet them. He could recognise, even from the insufficient streetlights that the six figures were Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mr. Weasley, Mundungus, Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks.

Lupin had picked up the girl when Harry reached his side. He saw to his horror that there was another boy who had been attacked. However, they had been too late; the boy looked up lifelessly at Harry.

"Let's go Harry!" Lupin shouted as he carried the girl and ran towards a pink jeep. Harry took off after him, Tonks and Mr. Weasley. He chanced a glance backward and saw that the rest of them were putting up a good fight against the two Death Eaters.

They jumped into the car and Mr. Weasley revved up the engine with no delay. They pulled out of the curb and drove out of Magnolia Road.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, when they were driving on the high street.

"The headquarters," Mr. Weasley replied grimly.

"But my things are still at the Dursley's," said Harry.

"We'll get someone to take them later. The most important now is to get us out of here safely," Lupin answered tersely.

Harry sat in silence for the rest of the journey. If he had thought it was weird that Dementors had turned up in Little Whinging last summer, it was bizarre that Death Eaters had turned up this year. And the fact that they were not attacking him, Harry, but a muggle girl was even more puzzling. Indeed, these Voldermort's supporters hated the muggles or the muggles born wizards and witches. But to send Death Eaters to specifically attack an unarmed girl and her family was simply baffling.

He looked down at the girl now laid between Harry and Lupin, her long black hair splayed out around her stony, but otherwise pretty face.

"Is she going to be okay?" Harry asked finally, breaking the silence as he did.

"Yeah," said Lupin, "a stunning spell, most likely. But she's bound to struggle if we revive her now."

"We're here," announced Mr. Weasley from behind the wheels. Harry looked up at the familiar two brick houses that sandwiched the invisible house that had once been Harry's only hope of freedom. He shook himself off the painful memory as he stepped out of the car, into the first sign of daybreak.