Chapter 1

Harry Potter breathed ragged breaths as he struggled against the binds that had him wrapped around a grave. He glared at Peter Pettigrew as the man, with tears streaming down his face, moved toward him with the dagger in his left hand. The right one—still newly amputated—was already wrapped and hidden in the depths of the man's robes.

Sobs wracked the other man as he stumbled his way over to the gagged and restrained Harry. No, no, no please…! He should be dead! Dead, Harry thought as his eyes fell on the bubbling cauldron he knew contained the bone thin body of Lord Voldemort. Harry's eyes fell back onto Wormtail as his hot, labored breathing fell on his neck and the servant drew forth the silver dagger, now filmed with blood.

Harry did his best to pull away from Peter, but his efforts amounted to nothing. Peter cut his right arm and robe sleeve, where blood began trickling down and soaking the fabric. After a few seconds of fumbling Wormtail pulled a vial from his robes and held it to the cut to allow a few drops to dribble in then he began crawling his way over to the cauldron.

No, Wormtail! Don't put it in! Don't put my blood in! Don't let him rise, Harry mentally shouted at him as he tried to moan the words through the large, cloth gag. Too late. As the blood was put into it the surface began sparking and releasing a blinding white light. Narrowing his eyes painfully to see through the bright light he heard a hissing off to his right.

As Harry turned to see what it was he saw the enormous snake slithering into view. Its diamond shaped head angled his way for one brief glance before its entire twelve feet passed him without ado, heading toward the bubbling cauldron where its newly arisen Master would be waiting. And as it disappeared into the mist, it changed. The body shortened to nearly half its regular size and the glossy brown scales with black diamond studded patterns on it melted into gleaming, chrome silver. The unnoticeable black eyes suddenly turned jewel bright green as the steam issuing from Voldemort's current resting place, yet the gleaming green could be seen until the snake passed behind the cauldron.

And once more Voldemort's skeletally thin form materialized from the unearthly fog and he turned his snake-like face in Harry's direction. As soon as their eyes connected Harry felt a searing pain spike from his scar, and he closed his eyes once more to scream.

"No," the tousle, black haired boy shot up from his bed in the early hours of the morning. His green eyes were widened in anguish as he remembered that night only—had it already been a month? Wiping the sweat dampened hair from his eyes he got out of his bed and stumbled to his opened window where he poked his head out into the night.

Harry Potter's emerald green eyes scanned the sleep, deserted streets of Little Whinging from his bedroom window, half expecting the newly risen Lord Voldemort to be skulking in the shadows of his neighbor's house. But he saw nothing, and all he heard were the annoying barks of a lone dog as the wind blew through the yards. Tell-tale signs of the sunrise probed the eastern horizon as red streaks of light began creeping their way up the sky followed by a dull orange; the Boy Who Lived decided then that there was no use getting an extra few minutes of sleep before his Aunt would be banging on the door screeching for him to get up and make breakfast. Sighing resignedly, Harry pulled back from the window and walked over to his wardrobe where he pulled out another baggy shirt and an equally baggy pair of pants he barely managed to keep on his waist.

One month. It had been one month since the events of the Third Task in the Triwizard Tournament. One month since he, Harry, had seen Cedric Diggory die in front of his eyes then carried his body back to Hogwarts through the portal. And one month since Voldemort had gained a new body.

Through the fifteen years of his life Harry hadn't been able to imagine the consequences of the return of the Dark Lord. The snatches he'd gotten about the war before this age of calm had caused him to shudder due to the fear and losses received there. And he had been hoping that if Voldemort were to come back then the Ministry of Magic would take an offensive approach and do their best to prevent another costly war. But the Minister, Fudge, had refused to see the damage and destruction Voldemort would no doubt cause in his second rampage and had left Hogwarts that year without allying himself to Dumbledore.

This dream had come to him almost every night since then and every night Harry relived the pain of seeing Cedric, the real Hogwarts Champion in his mind, die from one sweep of Wormtail's wand—from the Unforgivable Killing Curse—and watch Wormtail proceed through the ceremony to resurrect Voldemort back to power. But something had been different about this dream. Harry squinted at his gangly reflection as he tried to recall the dream by each picture but any specific change to it was slipping away.

With slight frustration Harry continued sifting through each thought until he came upon the image of the morphing snake. The gigantic snake Voldemort kept around him had diminished to a less threatening five foot snake with silver scales. What was this snake? This thing had appeared flawlessly smooth as though it had just slithered off a sculptures table gleaming and perfect and new.

Staring at his reflection thoughtfully, Harry wondered if he should tell anybody about this. It was only a slight change in a dream and the chances of it proving significant sooner or later didn't seem very high, but there was the pressing question of whether to refrain from talking about it would be folly? Harry heaved a deep sigh as he brought a hand to briefly brush away the hair blocking the thin, lightning bolt shaped scar into view. It had throbbed after the dream, moreso than usual after the same dream, yet it appeared nothing more than a harmless souvenir of a long ago accident.

Though it had been long ago, the means for coming about that scar had been anything but accident. Voldemort had come into the night on Halloween when he was little more than a year old and still living with his parents at their house in Godric's Hollow. His father, James Potter, had told his mother to take their son and run then he attempt to waylay Voldemort to make sure his wife and son had more time. In the exact same way Cedric died, the Dark Lord had disposed of his father and then had went on to his mother, Lily Potter.

Lily had begged with Voldemort countless times in Harry's dreams to kill her, but leave her son. The Dark Lord, who had been looking to kill Harry, pushed her aside in the easiest sense possible to him: he killed her too. Then Voldemort had turned his wand on Harry and after uttering those evil words Avada Kedavra for the hundredth time in his life he put the spell on Harry. But something unpredictable had happened. From that moment on the entire Wizarding world would be wondering what could possibly have happened that night that had spared Harry Potter from the Killing Curse. As soon as the green beam had hit Harry it rebounded on its originator, but not before it had chiseled the lightning scar into Harry's head. The scar countless eyes would rove over after they'd heard the name 'Harry Potter'.

And it was because of Voldemort that Harry had been placed with his boorish Aunt and Uncle and cousin, whom had a strictly negative impression of magic. For ten years Harry had lived in complete ignorance of the fact he was a wizard and had been puzzled when the Dursely's blamed him for the odd incidents, which always seemed to happen around him. It was on the exact day Harry turned eleven and his life had changed drastically.

He had just gotten out of his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And in that year he'd come face to face with the new Voldemort. The real Voldemort. The only time he'd managed that was in his first year when Voldemort was a mere shadow occupying the back of his first year Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's head. The other two years he'd met with a past Voldemort and his servant. Each time he'd barely managed to escape with his life.

Bang, bang, bang! Harry started out of his thoughts when someone started pounding on the door causing it to shake in its hinges. "Get up! Get up, now," his aunt's shrill voice sounded at him from behind the door. Then she was gone.

Combing his ever unruly hair to make it less like he'd just gotten out of bed, Harry made for the door. He cast a glance toward the cage where his snowy owl, Hedwig, was perched. A smile crossed Harry's face at the reproachful look she gave him. "Don't worry, I'll bring you some bacon and then let you loose for awhile."

By the time Harry had reached the breakfast table, the Dursleys were already eating. Aunt Petunia was having an animated conversation with Dudley about his plans for the day, while Uncle Vernon was leaning back in his chair reading the morning newspaper. Harry discreetly took his seat next to Dudley and reached out to take some bacon and pancakes for himself. As he loaded his plate with food, he turned his attention to Petunia and Dudley.

"Honey, you've been spending all your time with your friends these days. Neglecting your chores, as well. I'm sure you don't mean to spend the day riding that... thing you have parked outside?" Petunia said as her thin, bony face chewed on a forkful of eggs. Though Petunia wasn't very old she hadn't been aging well; her blonde hair had wisps of gray straining near her temples and the skin on her face and neck was heavily lined.

Harry smirked. The "thing" Aunt Petunia was referring to was his cousin's motorcycle -- Dudley's pride and joy. Harry was not quite certain how Dudley had managed to get his hands on it, although he suspected that it was through... less than legitimate means. In the time since he had returned from Hogwarts, he noticed that Dudley had changed -- become more daring, and more eager to flout rules.

"But Mum!" started Dudley as he wolfed down a piece of bacon. "I promised Piers that I would meet him and the guys outside of town." Dudley still took up the entire side of a table, but while he was at Smeltings he'd supposedly lost twenty pounds, though Harry really didn't notice the difference. Though Dudley was oblivious, Harry had caught a glimpse of a small, hissing snake tattoo on Dudley's back; a recent addition Harry was also sure Petunia didn't know about.

"No, no," said Aunt Petunia, shaking her head. "The lawn needs mowing. And the last thing we need is for Arabella to call again with complaints about the way you ride that thing."

Harry sipped at his milk to hide a smile. Aunt Petunia treated Dudley's motorcycle as almost as much of a disruption as she used to treat Harry. In the weeks since Harry returned from Hogwarts, she had received calls from no less than seven of her neighbors –at least three from Harry's old babysitter Mrs. Figg, who complained that Dudley's careless antics had almost flattened one of her cats.

"I promise I won't go near Mrs. Figg or her stupid cats," exclaimed Dudley. "And I don't see why Harry can't mow the lawn!"

Harry snorted, giving a clear indication of what he thought about that idea. "I mowed the lawn last week, Dudley."

"Well, you can mow it again! It's not like you have anything important to do. I have friends waiting for me."

"Enough," Vernon, a big beefy man with absolutely no neck and a suffering mustache, cut in curtly as he put down his newspaper. "You tell your friend Piers that you are going to have to wait until after you've mowed the lawn to catch up with him. As for you, boy," he said, glaring at Harry, "I have a different sort of job for you."

And so it was that Harry, after going back upstairs to feed Hedwig and let her fly out of her cage, found himself on a ladder layering paint onto the wall far into the afternoon. By the time Harry had finished, the hum of his cousin pushing the lawnmower had faded and Dudley had disappeared along with his motorcycle.

Depositing his paintbrush and can of paint on the steps, Harry walked wearily into the Dursleys' house rubbing his sun burnt neck. It hadn't been particularly hot that day, but the sun had been unrelenting. Vernon, who had not needed to go to work that day, was watching the news on television. Walking quietly into the room behind him, Harry lounged against the wall and watched as well.

"...in other news today, there has been a sighting of the fugitive Sirius Black reported in a small village east of London. A young couple claims to have seen the deranged man outside their house, holding a gun in one hand and a bloody knife in the other. Police have investigated the sighting, but no traces of Black have been unearthed."

A grin crossed Harry's face. A gun and a knife...? It sounded more like an attempt to get some attention. Vernon turned to see him watching the news and then he said, "Boy, did you do your job well? If you didn't you'll be getting something coming to you. There's a letter on the counter for you." Harry felt his face lit up and he let a smile grace it as he dashed into the kitchen to pick up the letter. Glancing at it once told him it was in Hermione's usually loopy writing.

"...Harry? Harry," shrieked Petunia, with a nasty look on her as she came striding into the room. Her eyes were fiery, and she stuck her finger out at him threateningly. "There are two ugly birds beating at your window. One looks like yours!"

"Thanks, Aunt Petunia," Harry said and dashed upstairs to his room. A moment later he barreled into his room to see Hedwig on her perch following Pigwidgeon twittering madly and still flying fast circles around the room. Harry noted it had dropped an envelope onto his bed and he walked over to it with a shake of his head. Hermione, Ron, your letters are always on time, Harry though, considering the coincidence of both arriving on the same day through two different ways. He honestly wondered if magic were involved.

Taking Hermione's letter first he opened and unraveled it:

Hello Harry!

How's your vacation so far? I do hope your aunt and uncle and cousin are treating you fairly. Despite what you might think I actually haven't traveled with my parents so far this summer.

I've checked out quite a few books from my local library and even stopped by Diagon Alley when I got home to by some more summer reading. That includes Magical Maladies and How To Recognize Them and Greedy Goblins and other Intelligent Creatures. So far I've read about four of my books from the library, so I'll have to return this weekend to pick up some more.

Have you gotten a letter detailing you're a prefect? I expect not since we're only a month into the summer. Oh, I can't wait to see if I am!

Harry laughed at this, suspecting that the world would end if Hermione didn't become a prefect.

I don't suppose you've even started on your homework this summer, have you? The three foot essay Professor McGonagall wants on The Dangers of Switching the Species of an Animal ended up being six feet long. Binns essay on Borog the Warlord Goblin is also finished. All my homework is done!

Now, Harry, I said I'd touch on why I haven't traveled and here's why: my parents have agreed that I can take a few friends with me when we travel through Germany and Bulgaria this year, so I was wondering if you'd like to go with Ron, Ginny, and I? I asked Ron and Ginny last when he sent Pigwidgeon over. Oh, Harry, I do hope you can come!

And if you do come tell your relatives that you won't be coming back for the rest of the summer, and that you'll be arriving in London the last week before school where we'll stay at Diagon Alley. It'll be great to see you again, Harry!

Love,

Hermione

Harry couldn't suppress his surprised expression when he read the last paragraph then let out a delighted chuckle. Travel Europe with the Grangers and Ron and Ginny? There couldn't be a possibly better vacation—except if they stopped by the Weasely's on their way over to the other countries.

Containing his excitement for now Harry picked up Ron's letter and tore it open to read it in his best friend's fairly messy scrawl:

Hi, Harry,

Been having a great summer? Mine's been bloody awesome! Charlie and Bill are visiting, again, and so we've been having daily Quidditch matches with each other. I'm hoping to make it on the team next year since Oliver Wood's no longer around. Bill and Charlie have been teaching me a lot and I hope it's enough.

Have you heard from Sirius lately? I don't suppose you have since he still needs to keep a low profile around here, does he, since Dumbledore will grant him amnesty or something? I hope he's alright.

Have you heard from Hermione? Me and Ginny are supposed to be going with her to Germany, Switzerland, and Bulgaria, I think. She's already asked you right? It'll be great to have you there, Harry! And do you think we're stopping in Bulgaria to visit Krum? Uggh! Do you think she actually loves him? I can't imagine so.

Well, I hope you can come with us! Don't let your relatives get you down,

-Ron

Harry had been wondering about the same thing of the Dursley's and whether they'd be thrilled for him to be gone to different countries on an all expenses paid trip. He glanced out the window to see the sky already coloring orange for sunset and decided that this very night was not the right time to bring it up. He'd ask them tomorrow morning. Walking across the room he found Pigwidgeon had eventually settled down himself, but was still twittering incessantly. And from the look on Hedwig's face, it was obvious the chattering was stretching her patience. Running to her rescue, Harry dug out some owl treats and gave them to the two owls. He would write return letters to his friends tomorrow when he knew the answer to the biggest question of the summer.

Despite the dangers of wishful thinking, Harry flopped down onto his bed with a wide grin as he imagined seeing Ron, Hermione, and Ginny before the school year as well as visiting another country or three. That night, for the first time, the nightmare at the end of the Third Task did not plague his sleeping mind.