Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, and or form own or profit from the Harry Potter series or its characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, not me (duh). The only thing I lay claim to is my plotline. This story contains slash. That is male/male relationships. If you are offended or cannot stomach suchs things your browser should have a "back" button. Use it now. If your fine with it then enjoy the story.

This is an alternate Year Six story. Events from Years One - Five of the HPBs are part of the history.

Pairings: HP/SF RW/TB

Harry Potter and the Amulet of Omens

Prelude: The Storm's Edge

Lightning ripped across the horizon, followed by a boom a few seconds later. The windows of The Burrow covered in a thin later of humidity. It was late evening, Arthur and Molly Weasley were cleaning up after supper. Fred and George had retired to thier room, which was now producing the occasional explosion (They had alot to work on with Harry's Prize Money). Bill and Charlie had come home as well, Charlie in Percy's old room, Bill in his own. Harry and Ron were in Ron's lurid orange room, playing a game of exploding snap. It was a full house indeed, for the next day was Harry's birthday.

"Bugger harry, thats the fifth time you've won in a row, can't we play something else...?" Ron pleaded, then a smirk drew across his face, "Like chess maybe?"

Harry shook his head, he knew his chances of beating ron at chess were slim to none. "I don't think so Ron, your not winning that easy." Harry grinned, and then broke into a yawn. He glanced at his watch. "Holy... its already midnight? We should probably get some sleep you know, your mum will have our heads if we sleep in too much..."

Ron nodded, yawning as well, as everyone knows, yawns are quite contagious. "Right... well, tomarrows the big day right?" he grinned, knowing Harry was so modest about being given gifts.

Indeed harry blushed slightly "Yeah.. I guess. Well... g'night Ron"

"Yeah... g'night Harry..." Ron replied.

Night fell quickly as the house grew silent... but outside the storm had just begun. Rain came pouring down in torrents, thunder rumbling its slow melodic beats in the distance.

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Harry awoke to a loud snap of thunder, the storm had proceded right over the house. He sat up, bringing his arm up to his face to check his watch. 3:13 AM. He stood up and walked to the window, slipping on his glasses to watch the storm outside. Bolts of lightning would jump from cloud to cloud while bright flashes illuminated the landscape. The tree boughs hung low with collecting water, the grass gleamed and mud puddles were forming in some spots. His eyes caught on a dark mass out on the Weasley's lawn. Harry squinted trying to recognise the shape. 'One of the gnomes maybe...?' he though 'Or perhaps a fallen branch?'.

Harry gasped slightly as he realised it was a human form, sprawled out, facedown in the muddy earth. He turned swiftly towards the bed on the opposite wall, whoever it was they needed to get out of that storm, it was dangerous outside.

"Ron...! Ron wake up there's someone outside!" He reached over and shook the red-haired boy.

"...mmph... five more minutes..." Ron groaned back, rolling away from Harry's touch. Harry attempted to rouse him several times but each proved as fruitless as the last. Finally he gave up on waking his drowsy friend.

'Damnit...' Harry thought. 'I'm never going to get him up in time, they might need help' He opened the door and went down the stairs, trying not to make too much noise. (it was a full house of sleeping guests afterall) He proceded around the corner and down a short hall to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's room. 'Lord please, let them not be making another kid tonight...' he just reached the door when it opened infront of him. Harry stumbled back, startled that the door had moved before he touched it. A very suprised, and tired looking Arthur Weasley was blinking at the startled boy. He spoke up before Harry had time to react.

"Harry...? What're you doing up at thi-" He was cut short by Harry, who's mind finally got over being vexed by the door.

"Mr. Weasley, theres someone out on the lawn, it looks like they collapsed outside."

Arthur Weasley was not one to panic when a situation developed, not even in the wee hours of the night. He threw on a coat and grabbed his wand rushing to the front of the house. He paused for a moment to yell back for Harry to stay inside just before he swept through the door. A blast of cold wet wind in his stead. Half a minute or so pased by before Harry grew nervous. He shivered slightly, wondering who it was, if they were okay, and then his brain working again he realised; it could be a trap. He ran to the door, ignoring Arthur Weasley's request, leaping across the porch into the rain. His vision swept across the lawn looking for any sign of Mr. Weasley. He finally saw Arthur coming around the side of the house carrying a limp form in his arms.He came up to Harry and told him to open the door and alert Molly. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, it wasn't a trap then.

As the two entered the doorway, Molly was already standing there with a worried look on her face. She may have had no idea why her husband had run out into the rain, but she knew there would be a serious reason. It was much to her suprise though that Harry had gone out as well. This simply would not do, they were both soaked and would need to warm up infront of the fire before going anywhere, and she had half a mind to give Arthur a talking to about letting Harry go out in such weather. She fussed over them immidiately, not noticing the bundled form in her husbands arms till they were in the light of the fireplace.

"Oh my! Arthur who is that?" she exclaimed.

"Im not sure Molly... his features are hard to see under all the muck and grass... we need to clean him up a bit, I can tell its a boy, around Harry's age..."

Bill fumbled his way down the stairs, awoken by the comotion on the lower level of the house.

"...wha's all this ruckus about?" He yawned blearily.

"Not now William... your father found someone hurt outside." Mrs. Weasley said as Arthur laid the figure down on the couch infront of the fireplace. Molly took out her wand and uttered a few words, as from the boy's toes to his forehead, the grime slowly washed away into thin air.

It was Harry's turn to be suprised as laying there on the couch, pale, bruised, and battered was Seamus Finnigan. His freckles sticking out a shallow red on his white cheeks. Strands of hair plastered to his face, he sported a black eye and his jaw had a cut. Worst was Seamus's mouth. His lip looked like it was split in three different places, as if someone had hit him in the face multiple times. Harry blinked, a cold anger brewing inside him towards whoever would have hurt his friend like this.

End of Prelude, comments, suggestions? Flames will be used to light candles in further chapters...