*Hey guys. This is my first fanfiction so please read. Any constructive criticism welcome. Thankyou. Have a nice time ;) *

Chapter One Shepherd's Warning

*"Harry!" There were voices screaming his name. He knew whom they were but he could not go to them. He was trapped. "Harry!" They continued to scream. Harry was now running towards the voices. He had to save his godfather. His friends. Harry was still running, but his legs were getting slower. Harry heard light hooves behind him. "Prongs," he whispered.*

Harry woke up panting like he had just run a marathon. "Oh God," he muttered. He rolled over in his sweaty, tangled bed clothes to glance at his bed clock. The luminous hands told him it was half past five. Running his hands through his jet-black hair, Harry tried to focus and think. *Why am I having this dream?* He asked himself. *It doesn't make sense.* Harry knew that because it didn't make sense, it didn't mean it was strange. All his dreams never made any sense. Harry then thought of the voices screaming. One of them was his godfather, Sirius. Harry now felt such emptiness at the thought of his now lost friend.

Harry's blood began to boil at the thought of his death. It was Bellatrix Lestrange's fault. She killed him so unmercifully. The only time Harry had felt such a poisonous anger was when he thought that Sirius had betrayed his parents. However, the hatred that surged through Harry's veins was triple the force. He hated that woman and she would pay.

There was a power flowing through his body now, it felt strange but he was hooked to the feeling. The more he thought of Sirius' death and Voldemort the power increased. Harry snapped open his emerald green eyes that had a flash of red, and the lights bulbs in the room flickered on and then exploded.

Harry was dumbfounded. Then worried. He had done magic again. He was in for it now. At this moment a tawny, brown owl landed on the window seal. Noticing that Harry was in the room it tapped its beak of the glass. Harry sprinted to the window and flung it open. He grabbed the letter and began to open the parchment, dreading what Mafalda Hopkirk (he had remembered her name) was going to say. As he unfolded the letter, Harry was surprised to find that it was not a ministry letter. It had two words:

Run now

Harry was cautious and suspicious. It was not signed. Still thoroughly confused, Harry looked out the window to see for any danger. Privet Drive looked as uneventful and respectable as ever. However, Harry knew better. Last year he was attacked by a dementor that with a bit of luck he managed to escape from. This happened a few streets away.

He then felt it. The room turned cold. It was not dementors this time, he was certain. It was Voldemort. Harry panicked but dashed across his room to get his wand. As he was walking Harry stumbled and his scar burned with agony. Vague and jumbled images of the Dursley's living room and kitchen had entered his mind. Voldemort was definitely here. He was un- intentionally sending him images of what he was seeing.

Harry's head was swirling. *Get up!* He told himself. *Get up!* Harry concentrated. The same power he had felt moments before surged through him again. This time the window shattered. The Dursleys could be heard stirring in their rooms. *Go back to sleep or get out of here*. Harry mentally prayed. He hoped that they would not interfere with such a wizard. Voldemort would probably kill them. Harry came back to his senses; he climbed out of the window and jumped into bushes below. Luckily for him, the plants broke his fall and he was still in one piece. After rolling out of the flowerbed Harry ran down the Privet Drive and turned into Magnolia Avenue. He knew that in a short time Voldemort would realise that he was not in the house and would come for him. The wizard had an uncanny ability to track him down.

The thought of Voldemort made Harry run faster. Where to? He had no idea. He just knew that he had to put as much distance between him and the Dursley's house as he could. *Thank god Hedwig was out hunting.* He silently thanked. Harry wished that he had the sense to grab his Firebolt. He would probably be further away from Privet Drive than he was now.

Harry continued pounding down the footpath, every so often looking behind to see if Voldemort and his Death Eaters were following him. He felt like a fox that was on the scent of bloodthirsty hounds. He felt it again.

Another cold rush to his head and there was the same searing pain to his forehead. More mental images intruded.

"Wormtail get up!" spat an evil voice. "Where is he?" The dark living room of the Dursleys was half blown up. There were fragments of bricks littering the newly laid carpet. "Mmmasster, he mmust of got awwway," replied a frightened squeak.

Several dark-cloaked wizard sniggered and Voldemort continued ranting.

Harry didn't see or hear the rest of Lord Voldemort tirade. He tried to get up but he was weakened from his desperate flight and intrusion of Voldemort's thoughts. He could hear Wormtail's pleadings and screams, which still echoed in his brain. Disorientated, his knees began to shake. Harry leaned against a graffiti covered wall (thanks to Big D and his gang) and breathed deeply. *I need to keep going* He scolded himself. Without looking Harry ran across the street.

There was a screech of brakes and a flash of blinding lights.

*As I said before, this is my first story. Please be nice. Also, please review and comment.* ~Surge~