The muggle boy stands with his arms stretched out wide, ready to jump. He is tall and skinny, and the plain, loose t-shirt and shorts he wears seem to hang off him. His dark hair blows out around his face, windswept by the gale that's attacked the shores all summer, as he stands, poised, ready, above the cliff. He pauses for a moment, closing his eyes, and his expression becomes almost blissful as he steps forward. And then –

"Hannah, are you listening to me?" my sister's voice had taken on an insistent tone that suggested she'd been trying to get my attention for some time.

"Sorry, Karra," I said vaguely, but I was spooked now, by the image that had just come into my head. What was that? I'd always been a dreamer, and people said I had a wild imagination, but pictures didn't just appear in my mind, crystal clear, from nowhere. And it had been so detailed, like I was actually seeing it with my own eyes; that boy, above the cliff, about to jump. Thinking back, I could almost smell the salty scent of the sea, feel the gusty breeze around me, the panic in my chest at what that fictional boy was about to do.

"You're still not listening!" Karra pouted, her always short temper flaring now. "Honestly, sometimes it's like I'm invisible!"

"Okay," I said reluctantly. "What were you saying?"

But Karra had turned away, scowling. In the effort it took to apologise to Karra and get her to finally tell me what she wanted, the image I saw was soon gone from my mind, washed away like driftwood left and taken by the tide.

"What house do you think I'll be in?" Karra asked when I finally coaxed the question out of her.

"Not sure," I said. "I suppose you'll just have to wait and see."

Though I didn't say it, wary of annoying Karra again, in all honesty I hadn't given it much thought. I knew she was starting Hogwarts that term, and was probably quite nervous, as I had been, but though I'd tried to help her out I suppose I'd just assumed she'd be a Hufflepuff, like me and my brother and every Abbott before us.

Thinking about it, though, I realised for the first time that she wasn't necessarily Hufflepuff material. While she was sly and sometimes mean, smart for her age and often daring, always speaking her mind - traits of all the other houses - the one thing she wasn't was loyal and kind. While she could be caring on occasion, Karra tended to put herself before others. She also lacked the humility of a typical Hufflepuff; Karra was sleek and self-assured, and knew how to get what she wanted.

Looking at her, I suddenly saw that she was standing still and silent, as if thinking, and though her facial features didn't give much away, she was frowning a little, like she did when she was trying to answer a difficult question or solve a puzzle.

Karra was smart; smarter than others her age, often too clever for her own good. And all of a sudden I could sense what had been bothering her since the beginning of summer. Clearly, what I'd only just figured out had occurred to her some time ago.

"Karra, look," I finally said, looking her in the eye. "You know whatever house you're in we'll all still love you, right? You'll still be an Abbott, wherever you are."

She nodded, but her eyes were still calculating, suspicious. Clearly she was not convinced.

I sighed, wondering whether to stay and comfort her, but if there was one thing I knew about Karra, it was that she hated anyone to feel sorry for her. She operated alone, and it was probably best to leave her to it.

I stood up, and went out of the kitchen to the landing, wondering what to do with myself. Not being allowed to use magic did always seem to make the holidays incredibly boring, especially as this summer all my friends were abroad. Usually I'd have hung out with my older brother, James, but he'd been holed up in his room since the holidays started. He'd changed, somehow, after everything that had happened last year; Cedric Diggory's death had shocked everyone in Hufflepuff, but James was in the same year as him, and they'd been good friends. Cedric had even stayed with us over the summer once; he'd been like family in a way, for James.

I'd really noticed the change in James since we came home, and it bothered me. Once, he'd been light-hearted and friendly, always up for a laugh; he'd been clumsy, very accident-prone and always breaking things, but he'd never really minded. But the thing I missed most was the way he'd always looked out for me; for everyone really. He'd been the kindest person I think I'd ever met, and he'd always known exactly how to cheer me up when I was nervous or upset; he'd only have to crack a joke, give me his friendly smile, and suddenly, whatever had been bothering me wouldn't seem so bad anymore.

I hadn't seen him smile since the holidays started. He was quiet now, and moody; almost as bad as Karra sometimes. He was always in his room, hardly ever spoke. I could tell mum and dad were worried about him too; they were always trying to find out what was wrong with him, make him speak, just get through to him. But he always seemed to avoid us now; he was always busy with something or other, homework, or some sort of hobby. Often it was like my brother, who not long ago I'd known everything about, who I'd thought of as my best friend when I was a kid, was a stranger. I still needed him as much as ever, but he was lost.

I knew he was pretty much a lost cause, but still I had to try to get him to come downstairs, to hang out with me, one more time. I was bored out of my mind, and besides, I was never one to give up on my friends or family. I still cared about James as much as ever; all I wanted was my brother back. So I headed upstairs towards his room.

For a moment, I paused outside his door, wondering what his reaction would be. He'd probably make up an excuse again, send me away. He might well get annoyed, something he never used to do. Still, I had to try. So quickly, softly, I knocked on the door.

There was no answer. I know he was in there, though; he always was. He was just choosing to ignore me. He knew it was me, but he didn't care, not anymore. A sudden wave of hurt and frustration came over me. Once, no matter how bad things were, how busy he was, he'd always, always have made time for me. I was his younger sister, the one he'd talk to when he was mad at everyone else in the family. He'd looked out for me when no-one else would. And now he wouldn't even acknowldge me.

Feeling the anger and hurt boil over me, I shoved open the door and marched in, ready to finally talk to him, make him listen to me. Then I stopped. For the first time, the room was empty.

Confused, I looked around; where was he? He'd been here for the entire holidays, and Karra and I would have noticed if he'd come downstairs. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved that he hadn't been ignoring me after all, or worried about where he might have gone.

As I glanced around the room, my eyes rested on his desk, littered with newspapers and letters, a pile of moving photos. I move over, looking closer, and see that most of the newspapers are Daily Prophet. There's a whole pile of them; James has somehow purloined every recent issue without anyone noticing, and stashed them up here. For a second, I wonder why; then I notice that all of them are somehow bookmarked, or open at certain articles.

Cautiously, I pick them up. I feel guilty about prying through James's business, but I'm worried about him, and, to be honest, slightly curious. I scan through the pages, reading headlines, and as I start to see a pattern, I sigh. I should have expected this.

All the articles are somehow related to the incident last year, with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. They discuss what Harry has been saying, about Voldemort being back. I've read some of these of course, at the beginning. After one or two articles, though, I couldn't bear to read any further. Most didn't believe Harry's story; they drew their own conclusions about Cedric's death. And their critical, idiotic opinions, their stupidity at ignoring warnings, at hushing over what happened; all of it just frustrated me so much that pretty soon I just stopped reading. My parents did the same, and I always thought that James did, too. Clearly, though, I was wrong.

As I continued to look, I finally saw a small notebook lying open at the side of the desk. I quickly looked through the pages, careful as ever. The notebook was about twenty pages full, with each section clearly headed. As I skimmed through it, I saw all the most important notes from the newspapers had been carefully copied in. And suddenly, I realised what James had been doing all summer. Holed up in his room, he'd been playing detective, trying to piece together what had really happened.

I paused for a moment, processing this. There was definitely something about this that didn't feel right. It couldn't be normal, could it, to be so obsessed? And if he was so intent on finding the truth, why didn't he just ask me? I knew Harry; he was in my year. I could help James more than any newspaper. He was just pushing me away again, shutting me out as usual.

I felt another pang of hurt, this one strongest of all. I'd lost him, really lost him. James had changed so much, I just didn't understand him anymore. Clearly, the James I had known was gone.

I started to leave the room, defeated. Just before I reached the door, though, from the corner of my eye I saw the tiniest flicker of movement from the window, just distinctive enough to make me turn round.

Slowly, I walked over and peered out, wondering vaguely who was out there. At first glance, the place seemed deserted as usual. Sunlight streamed over the grassy path leading down to the bay, causing a golden glimmer to wash over everything, and the grey cliffs of the headland shone out in the distance. The view looked as inviting as usual, seemingly perfect for a summer's walk, but having lived here all my life, I knew better. I know the signs, the way the green and grey grass blew back and forth, the reason grains of still glimmering sand were blown and scattered through the air. I knew if I opened the window now they would fly in, propelled by a breeze that would send the papers on my brother's desk flying.

There was a storm brewing out there, and while it was safe for witches and wizards, able to use magic to save themselves, any muggle would be mad to go out in this weather. And that meant that what I had glimpsed through the window could only mean one thing; it was my brother out there.

Why, though? He'd hardly been out of his room all summer; what could he be doing out on a windy day like this? I put my face up close to the window again, looking scrutinisingly out at the path to see if I could find him. At first, I saw nothing; only the wind, subtly blowing the long grass back and forth. Then, suddenly, I saw movement again. And there, far away, heading slowly down towards the cliffs, I could make out the lanky figure of a boy, picking his way down to the bay.

I didn't hesitate; just ran down the stairs, pulling on my shoes, shouting at a grumbling Karra to lock the door as I dashed out. I didn't care how windy it was, or if my brother wanted to see me or not. I had to find out what was wrong with him, what he was doing out on such a windy day. I hurried across the sandy path, pushing my way through the wind, thick as ever. Bits of sand and grass blew into my eyes as I walked, blocking my vision, and I wished I could cast a spell to keep them away; the rule about not using magic outside of school annoyed me more every year.

I moved forward, straining my eyes to try to make out my brother, see where he'd gone. He'd be way ahead of me by now, probably at the cliffs already. What on earth could he be doing? I started to run faster, hoping I could catch him up. The wind was more powerful than ever now, pushing me backwards, and my hair was getting in my face. I could barely see a thing.

Swearing under my breath as strands of hair fell into my mouth, I carried on upwards. I was nearly at the cliffs of the headland, now, and the wind had changed; it was fiercer, more insistent, threatening to throw me over the cliff. I'd be fine, I knew; I was a witch, after all. Still, I struggled to keep my feet on my ground, as I climbed up the rocks, looking ahead of me.

And there he was, standing at the edge of the cliff, staring out at the raging sea. Only it wasn't James. It was another boy. A boy, who I'd never seen before, who should be a stranger; but who was somehow, eerily, familiar. And suddenly, I was scared, spooked; this couldn't be happening. It was impossible. What was going on? How could this be real?

I watched as the muggle boy stood with his arms stretched out wide, ready to jump. Tall and skinny, plain, loose t-shirt and shorts hanging off him; dark, wind-swept hair. How had I mistaken him for James? I watched, catching my breath, as he paused, closed his eyes; an almost blissful expression on his face. I know what was coming; I'd seen it before, just half an hour ago. I just didn't know why.

I know he'd step forward, ready. And then….

Only, that was where the vision had ended. That was all I'd seen. What happened now, what came next, the boy's fate… it was up to me.

Sorry if this is a crappy first chapter, this is my first Harry Potter fanfiction and I haven't really had time to edit it as my wifi is really bad. There'll be more happening in the next chapter.