Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Joanne K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warning: This is my first English fanfiction so please bear with me when my grammar and choice of words isn't always perfect. I'm doing my best, really. Just correct me if I'm making any major mistakes.

Summary: The second war plays out in full force and Sirius was by no means the only victim. The prophecy inevitably leads Harry towards his destiny but one choice is still for him to make: Will he fight to live or will he chose to join the loved ones he lost? He will encounter weakness and strength, love and betrayal. The sixth year in Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be the darkest Harry and his friends ever had to go through but it is said to be always darkest before the dawn, so is it?

Pairing: I don't know yet though it will certainly not be slash. It will be either Harry/Hermione or Harry/Ginny (I know that's not much use for all of you shippers out there g). I tend to Harry/Ginny but I really don't have any preferences. It's just that I have better ideas what to write when our hero is together with the red head. The books give clues to either, though.

Rating: It's PG-13 right now but it might go up in the near future depending on how much detail I'm going to put into the chapters (And what you guys want to read winks)

Genre: Action/Adventure/Drama

And now let the show begin...

Harry Potter and The Half Blood Prince

by

ginoeh

Catch me as I fall

Say you're here and it's all over now

Speaking to the atmosphere

No one's here and I fall into myself

This truth drives me into madness

I know I can stop the pain if I will it all away Don't turn away

Don't give in to the pain

Don't try to hide

Though they're screaming your name

Don't close your eyes

God knows what lies behind them

Don't turn out the light

Never sleep never die

I'm frightened by what I see

But somehow I know that there's much more to come

Immobilized by my fear

And soon to be blinded by tears

I can stop the pain if I will it all away

Don't turn away

Don't give in to the pain

Don't try to hide

Though they're screaming your name

Don't close your eyes

God knows what lies behind them

Don't turn out the light

Never sleep never die

Fallen angels at my feet

Whispered voices at my ear

Death before my eyes

Lying next to me I fear

She beckons me shall I give in

Upon my end shall I begin

Forsaking all I've fallen for I rise to meet the end

(Evanescence, Whispered, Album: Fallen)

Prologue

It was a dark day in Privet Drive, Little Whining, Surrey, literally. Grey clouds obscured the heavy sky as they had done for the most time of the previous two weeks and a distant grumbling sound bore news of an approaching storm.

The few people who had dared to set foot outside their safe and orderly houses gave the skies a suspicious glance and hurried to finish whatever idle task they were occupied with.

When chilling gusts of wind finally started to head down through the streets, rush over trees and ruffle the neat, well-kept and nearly abnormally clean front gardens of the square houses no soul could longer be seen outside their respectable homes.

At least, so it appeared.

A vigilant observer could have seen the slim, shadowy figure of a boy or rather young man clothed in old, baggy jeans and a faded, black jumper with the sleeves rolled up several times to expose pale, long fingered hands as he silently crossed Magnolia Crescent, seemingly not paying attention to his surroundings at all.

What he could not have seen, however, was the dark skinned, bald man who followed the youth in near distance, ceaselessly keeping an eye on the neighbourhood, yet never averting the other one from the figure walking in front of him.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stifled a groan which was about to escape him as the young man took yet another turn heading now for what he had come to recognize as the park of Little Whining.

It was not so much a park as a place covered in grassy moulds on which the town counsel had erected a few swings, benches and an area to play any sort of ball games.

Shacklebolt cursed under his breath as the strong wind swept under his clothes threatening to rip away the Invisibility cloak which was concealing and hiding his form completely.

Rain was pouring down on them when they finally reached the muddy, deserted grounds of what seemed to be the youths destination.

Silently berating himself for taking over Moody's shift of the guard Shacklebolt wrapped himself in his now utterly and thoroughly soaked robes trying to keep himself from shifting and shivering too much where he was crouched hidden beneath some bushes.

An indignant hiss escaped him as a big, icy raindrop splashed into his neck from one of the branches above him soaking what had seemed to be the only dry part left of his body.

However, in contrary to what it seemed the young man Shacklebolt was watching was fully aware that he was being followed as well as who exactly his follower was.

But he simply did not care.

He did not care that cold water was running down from his too long, black hair and into his neck.

He did not care that he could hardly see through his wet, misty glasses behind which astonishingly emerald green eyes were hidden.

He did not care that his whole body was numb with cold and that his right palm, crusted with dried blood, was now throbbing painfully.

In fact, he welcomed the pain.

It was a focus point to keep his thoughts from going back to that fateful night at the Ministry of Magic, to keep his mind from remembering.

It had been a bad idea to start rummaging in his school trunk, he should have known that.

It had not been until five minutes into searching for his Transfiguration book when something sharp had sliced into his palm. When he discovered what it was it had been too late.

It was a mirror.

The mirror.

He had stared at it, unseeingly, for Merlin knew how long, his injured hand leaving scarlet marks on the old carpet in his room.

And then he had run; had run from the suppressed memories that were now rushing back at him, from the guilt and this horrible void inside of him which made him feel as if he was drowning any minute.

"Sirius", a slight moan escaped him, as tears started to mingle with the rain on his pale, exhausted face.

"Sirius", he choked out a bit louder as he felt his knees give away beneath him and he fell onto the muddy earth.

Loud thundering was rolling over Little Whining as the youth let loose his emotions in a harsh cry full of pain, guilt, rage and hopelessness that was carried away with the stormy wind and startled many an inhabitant in the streets near Magnolia Crescent.

Underneath the bushes behind the youth Kingsley Shacklebolt pressed himself onto the damp ground as with the cry an unexpected and intense wave of raw, uncontrolled magic washed over him letting his hair stand on end and making it hard to breath in the sizzling air.

With an nearly unreadable, yet slightly shocked expression he continued watching the mourning young man and promised to himself to never get on the wrong side of Harry Potter, who was also known to the wizarding world as The-Boy-Who-Lived.

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Now, what do you think, guys? I'm dying to get some reviews from you. Even flames are welcome if they contain constructive criticism.

You know, I'd blackmail you lot into reviewing but I don't really have any ideas of how to do this. So all I can do is beg. (falls to her knees and kisses the seam of your trousers) (Ahem, reminds me somehow of Voldi's Death Eaters... well, just skip it. ;-))

R&R !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

cheers,

ginoeh