Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything in the Harry Potter universe, that all belongs to the wonderfully brilliant JK Rowling! So please don't sue me, as I am a poor man who derives the majority of his joy from writing stories like this one. If you would like to give me some money, though, I would be completely open to that!

Enjoy the story! :)

-Sherlock

To anyone gazing outside in Little Whinging, Surrey, England, on that mildly-chilly night of August the 31st, everything appeared to be perfectly ordinary. The stars were twinkling, the moon was shining brightly in the coal-black sky, and the streets were empty of any and all life, as all nearby people were fast asleep... and that included the residents of Number 4 Privet Drive.

It was strange, then, that one Harry Potter jolted awake suddenly, with no apparent cause. He had no weird dreams, his cursed scar wasn't bothering him, and he was all set to leave for King's Cross station the next day, so that he could spend the next ten months at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his favorite place in the whole world, for his sixth year.

Dismissing the unusual awakening as simply being excited to see his best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, again, he was about to go back to sleep when he felt a tingling sensation go down his spine. It was the unmistakable feeling of being watched... a feeling that he was most definitely accustomed to. Swiftly grabbing his wand off his bedside table and putting on his glasses with the fierce reflexes of a boy used to fighting and defending himself, Harry climbed out of bed and circled around his room slowly.

"Who's there?" He called out, the words echoing in the empty air, only the faint sounds of his uncle's snoring in the next room answering him.

After a few minutes of nothing happening and the feeling having all but disappeared, he was just about convinced that it was all his imagination and that he should just lay back down and try to relax again. But as he turned back around towards the bed, he caught a glimpse of a figure standing outside of the house through his window. The form was standing in the shadows, far away from the streetlights that might have illuminated its face, so Harry couldn't tell what the person looked like, but the eyes were quite clear, even through the darkness, because they appeared to be... glowing!

A sudden burst of fear spread through Harry's body at seeing the two orbs gazing up at him, and he froze, holding the breath he had just taken. The eyes were red, the dark red color of flowing blood, and they had a certain edge to them that seemed to warn all against coming near. Despite that, a pale arm raised up from beneath the black cloak that the figure was wearing, a single finger gesturing for him to approach.

Seemingly every fiber of Harry's being advised him, if not ordered him, to ignore the thing outside the window and go back to bed, but a strange force was pulling him out of his bedroom door, down the stairs, and away from the house. He stumbled, as if in a trance, towards the intimidating form, his eyes glazed over, not fully seeing what was around him. He looked not around him as he was walking, but only to where he knew he had to be.

"Come closer..."

The voice appeared in his head, calling to him, controlling him, and he listened. There was not a thing he could do but listen to the deep, silky voice that sent a warm chill through his body, a sensation that was not entirely unpleasant, and obey.

It was not until Harry was directly in front of the figure, who was now shown to be a rugged-looking man, and the man placed his hand upon Harry's shoulder, that he broke out of the trance. He was utterly disoriented from having control over his mind handed back to him, and he was not entirely sure how he had come to be there. A sudden dizziness rushed over him, and his eyes began to roll back into his head as his legs gave out on him. He fell onto the grass beneath his feet, only slightly supported by the other man's hand, and gazed through heavily-lidded eyes at the image before him, struggling to keep his head up.

The man in question appeared to only be of around twenty years of age. He had a head of shoulder-length, chocolate-colored curls, and an angular face covered in hair, as if he hadn't shaved in a week. His skin was snowy-white, an unnaturally pale color if ever he had seen one, yet it was beautiful in a way. He was clothed in all-black warriors' gear that anyone would've thought had come straight from the Renaissance, with a long, dark cloak covering even that. It was his eyes, indeed, that were the most stunning aspects of him, however, and after sweeping over the man's body with his own pair of eyes, Harry found that he couldn't look away.

"Sleep now, Harry Potter... It will all come to light soon."

A wave of relaxation passed through him at these words and he fell limp, his eyes closing and his mouth slightly agape. Before he completely fell into the everlasting delirium of sleep, though, he heard the man's last words to him for a long while... at least in person.

"Rest. I'll be with you."