Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other affiliated properties. I do not write this in the interest of monetary gain nor do I expect to receive any sort of monetary compensation for this work. I write this purely for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of my readers.

Welcome Readers! This is the prologue for a new story that I have been working on for some time now. It is my first story on this site, however it is not my first fan fiction. That being said, it could still be horrible. I can't make you all like it after all. I am not at the point where I want to post the rest of this story yet, I am simply putting this up to see if people would be interested and to give me a reason to write this story out and clear some of the clutter out of my head.

The Sharpest Thorns

Prologue:

"Both of us," Ellie said

"What?"

"We'll take it at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory. We'll tie for it." Harry stared at his sister, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

"You – you sure?"

"Yeah," said Ellie. "Yeah . . . we've helped each other out, haven't we? We both got here. Besides, we're family. Let's just take it together."

"You're on," Harry said with a grin. "Come here."

Harry pulled Ellie to her feet and helped her limp toward the plinth where the cup stood. When they had reached it, they both held a hand out over one of the cup's gleaming handles.

"On three, right?" said Ellie. "One – two – three – "

She and Harry both grasped a handle.

Instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground, he could not unclench the hand holding the Triwizard Cup; it was pulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Ellie at his side.

Harry felt his feet slam into the ground and stumbled. Beside him, he noticed Ellie's injured leg give out and she fell forward; letting go of the cup as she did. She raised her head and looked around.

"Where are we?" she said.

Harry shook his head. He pulled Ellie to her feet and they looked around.

They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously travelled miles – perhaps hundreds of miles – for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.

Harry looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Ellie.

"Did anyone tell you that the Cup was a Portkey?" He asked.

"Nope," said Ellie. She was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno," said Harry. He was slightly nervous and knew that it was coming through in his voice. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah," said Ellie. She looked relieved that Harry had suggested it.

They pulled out their wands, Harry kept looking around him. He had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched.

"Someone's coming," he said suddenly.

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Harry couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure the face. And – several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time – Harry saw that the thing in the person's arms looked like a baby . . . or was it merely a bundle of robes?

Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Ellie. Ellie shot him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure.

It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second, Harry, Ellie, and the short figure simply looked at one another.

And then, without warning, Harry's head exploded with pain. It was agony such as he had never felt in all his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face. It took all of his willpower not to fall to the ground and instead slumped against the nearest headstone. Beside him he saw Ellie fall to the ground clutching her head as if it was about to split open.

From far away, in front of him, he heard a high, cold voice say, "Kill the spare."

A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: "Avada Kedavra!"

A blast of green light filled his vision and as he closed his eyes, and he saw his life flash before his eyes.