Wow!! I've been waiting quite a while to post the first chapter of my first multi-chaptered fic. As I write this A/N, I still have no idea for a title, but I guess all I can do is hope that one comes to me before I finish typing it up. Anyways, I'll stop rambling now and get to the fic (I'm not making very much sense anyways).

As always, you are more that welcome to leave a review telling me what you think of it.

Chapter One: Bad Beginnings Predict…

The blood red slits that were glaring in his direction seemed to strip the shaking boy of all his defences. The high pitched hiss that read out his death sentence as if from an invisible book made him want to tear his ears off, remove his hearing all together.

-"You have failed me, my serpent. I know you were young when you last witnessed it, but do you remember what happens to the misfortunate few who dare disappoint me?" There was nothing angry in the question, but it was the calm controlled superiority that scared the boy the most.

Steel eyes that seemed to glint green when the light struck them at a certain angle widened in hysteria. A shiver shook his already trembling spine. The same smell that made the air thick with fear and sick anticipation could be sensed throughout the circle of robed figures blocking the two in the center from the outside world and any hope or help it could possibly offer. The fallen one's throat constricted on reflex, no sound escaped, or ever would escape him again.

Every pair of eyes present rose, some with sympathy and some with hunger, to follow their master's wand, and the sympathetic flinched in unison as the deadly words spilled forth from his thin lips.

-"Avada Kedavra, Draco."

A woman's sob rang in his ears as Harry Potter shot up in his small bed, in number 4 Privet Drive. His heart was pounding irregularly in his chest, making his entire ribcage throb. He raised a trembling hand to wipe away the beads of sweat that decorated his forehead and plastered his jet black hair to the base of his neck. His emerald eyes darted around his room, not pausing on anything, nor taking anything in. His scar prickled lightly, a reminder of the horror he had just witnessed, like a bad aftertaste at the back of his throat.

Three digital figures glared at him from a little black box that lay on his bedside table. 4:28.

The red of the numbers took him back to the equally pitiless red eyes in the darkness of his dream. A shudder ran freely through his disoriented body. His head hit the pillow before Harry realized that he had let himself fall. The world was swaying around him as flashes of the vision forced themselves to the forefront of his mind. He had witnessed the scene through the condemned boy's eyes, something that had never happened to him before-perhaps Voldemort had been inside the boy's head too.

He inhaled deeply, holding in the cool night air that flowed in through his open window.

Just as he began to find comfort in the warm sheets of his bed, the breath that was still being held hostage by the dark haired boy's lungs fought to escape. The imprint of Draco's dread, his utter panic, seized him, creating tendrils of paralyzing fear that wrapped themselves around Harry's already oxygen deprived brain. Harry remained prone, the horror in his eyes becoming dull.

A flash of neon green light filled Harry's vision, his eyelids slowly slipping shut.

The first thing to make itself known to his drowsy senses was the incessant tapping that resonated from his desktop. The second was the bright light that made his still sleep ridden eyes sting. The final thing to cross his mind before he fully appreciated the situation was that 4:28 had long ago passed and it was now 9:30.

Harry reached to his bedside table for his glasses, which he then proceeded to push up the bridge of his nose. As he sat up, he was met by a pair of big yellow eyes and an uncomfortable weight in his lap. The owl that had previously been tapping its beak against Harry's desk had flown to him and extended its right leg. A letter had been hurriedly attached to it, and it was, quite obviously, addressed to him.

As soon as the letter was detached, the owl hopped a polite distance away before taking flight through the still open window. He looked down to his letter only to be greeted with the Hogwarts emblem. They had never sent his supply list this early on in the summer before, and his supply list was never this light.

Now gripped by curiosity, the black haired boy tore open the envelope and slid out the piece of parchment within. The writing was spidery and Harry could tell that whoever had written it had been in a hurry. He read,

'Harry,

I know this letter may come as a surprise, but I have no time for pleasantries or common conversation. At precisely ten o'clock this letter will turn into a portkey and it will take you to Malfoy Manor. This is no hoax and you would do well to follow my instructions. At ten o'clock I want you to be holding this letter, dressed in your school uniform. I will explain everything upon your arrival.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry blinked twice before his mind wrapped itself around the situation and he launched himself out of his bed. He dashed down the stairs, flew passed his startled aunt and almost knocked right into the locked door of the cupboard, but managed to stop in time. Many thoughts ran through his head before he settled on wrenching open the door, breaking the lock in the process. He set his trunk right side up on floor and through it open. A mesh of clothes, thankfully all clean, Quidditch gear, school books and mostly broken quills took up all the room his trunk had to offer. He pulled out the robes he had worn the previous year and climbed the stairs back up to his room.

Harry tried in vain to comb his hair, sparing a single glance to check the time. 9:50.

He ran to the bathroom and picked up his toothbrush, slamming the door shut with his foot as he spread the paste.

9:58.

A now clean, dressed and out of breath Harry ran back down the stairs, this time skidding to a halt right in front of his adoptive family, a piece of parchment in his hand. They had all agglomerated at the bottom of the staircase, and were glaring at him keenly. While Petunia and Dudley scanned him up and down, Vernon spoke up.

-"Uh…it would seem that this unfortunate day is the…your birthday, and-" But if he ever finished his sentence Harry did not know. As he felt a tug from behind his navel, a hundred thoughts zoomed around in his head. For the first time in his life, his aunt and uncle had remembered his birthday, and he had left, cutting then off in mid-sentence. Hedwig's cage really needed to be cleaned. He hadn't rinsed his mouth properly and the leftovers of the toothpaste were crisp and crunchy between his teeth. Seeing 'Minerva McGonagall, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' made his heart clench painfully. The last thought that was formed in his confused mind before his feet slammed back down on firm ground was that anyone could have sent him that letter, anyone could have sent him that portkey. And whoever that was, was not necessarily his friend.

The scene that was splayed out before his newly opened eyes was not the one he had been expecting. He was in what seemed to be a field, a very foggy field, and he was alone.

A crack resonated right next to his ear, and before Harry had time to assess the situation, a cold clammy hand latched onto his, and with another crack, the pair disappeared.