Just for your information, this takes place between books four and five- when Harry is trapped at the Dursleys with no word from anyone and Ron and Hermione are at the Order's Headquarters.

This is an idea that just randomly came to me one night. I wrote it in one day, and maybe that's why it's probably really bad :). But please R&R anyway- I want to know what you guys think!

Btw, this is a Oneshot. Never again.

Disclaimer: Only Sara is mine. Harry is J.K. Rowlings' and should be treated as such :D

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The night was still warm with the last dying rays of the sun as it sank below the horizon, the houses along Magnolia Crescent falling into shadow. The lights suddenly came on with a light pop, and the once darkened pavement glowed in the yellowish light. It threw the neighbors' yards into sharp focus, the grass turning brassy instead of the lovely emerald that usually was the standard. But the drought had fallen hard upon everyone, and even the rich had a hard time of keeping their yards neat and spotless.

The girl walked casually along the pavement, her long dark hair swaying in the light breeze that was a relief from the muggy air, she thought, her head nodding in silent agreement. It was a night like any other in the neighborhood, and that was exactly what she didn't want. Why couldn't anything ever be different? Anything more…what was the word…interesting?

Loud, raucous cries erupted into the darkness around her, and she halted in her tracks, her eyes widening. A pudgy boy came out of the darkness, raising his meaty fists. She instantly recognized him as Dudley Dursley, the neighborhood bully. His gang appeared out of nowhere behind him, their faces leering at her.

"Put em up," Dudley said stupidly. Piers poked him in the back.

"Isn't that Sara Morris? She's a girl!"

Oh the stupidness. Sara had already spent too much time in their company; if she spent any more their idiocy would become contagious.

"Where's your brother, Sara?" Piers asked, his eyes regaining their maniac glint. She knew they wanted a punching bag, but luckily for her, Dudley had made it a rule that his gang could never lay a finger on girls. Especially pretty ones like herself.

"At home," she pointed behind her. The whole gang looked around wildly.

"Not here, morons," Dudley grunted as he pushed past her. "Laters."

Sara nodded after them. She ambled down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, toward the park. It was dusk, and everybody should have gone home by now. She checked her watch; the number 10:24 glowed at her.

At last the park came into view. But it wasn't empty.

The boy in question was sitting silently on the swings, looking down at the ground. He was tall and lanky, with dark hair that stuck up oddly in every which way like a hedge. Round glasses framed his eyes, and Sara could see from the one street light that still worked that they were an intense dark green. She knew him; it was 'that Potter boy' that Dudley had warned her away from in first grade. She knew he lived with the Dursleys (poor kid), and that he had been shunned ever since he had arrived. There was something about him tonight that drew Sara in. Maybe it was the way his head hung down at the ground, or the rumor of the scar on his forehead.

She walked hesitantly toward him, her feet making no sound on the mulch. She sank gratefully into the swing next to his, freezing at the loud creaking noise it made.

That Potter boy looked up, his hand flashing to his pocket.

"Hi…" Sara mumbled, looking at his forehead curiously. The lightning shaped scar WAS there. She immediately felt ashamed of herself for looking at it in the first place. Didn't the kid already get stared at enough because of it? Sara knew how he felt. She had always been stared at because of her crooked arm, which had been broken and then healed badly. Her mother had broken it on one of her rampages, and Sara had barely managed not to cry in front of her.

The boy was looking at her, slowly returning his hand back to the swing. His green eyes were frustrated in a way she couldn't understand. Was he frustrated with her?

"What did I do?" she asked.

The boy shook his head like he was coming out of a reverie. "S'not you."

Sara wrapped her hand around the metal chain that the swing hung from. It was half broken, probably due to Dudley and his stupid gang. She eyed the boy's swing; it was the only one that was completely unbroken. He noticed where she was looking.

"Do you want it?"

Sara shook her head quickly. "You can keep it."

They lapsed back into an uncomfortable silence while Sara tried to work up the courage to ask him what was wrong.

"Is there something bothering you?" Sara finally managed. The boy turned one of his eyes on her, as if sizing her up. They were the most brilliant eyes she had ever seen, flecked with hazel and black. Sara had to work to hold back the gasp that was building steadily in her lungs, her hand gripping the chain tightly.

Finally the boy spoke. "I know the truth of something. Nobody is willing to believe me, and they call me a liar. Only a few people believe me, but it's not enough to convince the others. What do I have to do to get them to listen?!" His voice cracked as he returned his gaze stonily to the ground.

Sara didn't know what to tell him. Exactly how important was it that he spread the truth to these stubborn people?

"You can't force the truth on them," Sara spoke quietly and thoughtfully. "They'll never believe you if you do that. With some people, they will know the truth but refuse to believe. And there is nothing you can do until you are proven to be telling the truth."

His eyes were wide. "But people will die!"

Sara considered that, her head tipped to the side. "Well you did all you could to get them to listen. It may weigh heavily on your conscience, but if you did all you could, then it shouldn't. It isn't your fault."

Relief spread across the boy's face, Sara feeling as if she had just made everything easier in 'that Potter boy's life. The tension had left his face, the atmosphere had lifted and Sara didn't feel so forlorn anymore.

She looked at her watch and did a double take. 11:15! Her mother was going to kill her!!

"I've got to go," Sara said hurriedly, standing up and vaulting over the fence. "Bye!"

"Bye," that Potter boy muttered under his breath.

A couple streets down from the park, on a street called Privet Drive, Sara leaned over and gasped for breath. She had never run so fast in her life.

Suddenly the lights around her went out, clouds blocking out the moon and stars. The street was swathed in darkness, and she could have sworn she heard something draw a rattling breath. She was suddenly doused with cold, like somebody had dunked her into a freezing bucket of ice water. Her legs went weak, and she sank down onto the pavement, struggling for breath. The thing took another rattling breath.

Something brushed her neck, cold surging once again through her veins. Everything happy was being sucked from her, she was dying…She could feel an icy breath on her face now…Sara was struggling to stay conscious, but she could no longer quite manage…

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Someone cried.

And cantering toward her, the last memory she ever had, was of a beautiful silver stag. As it drew nearer, it lowered its royal antlers, and the cold rushed away from her. It paused in its steps, and Sara saw its eyes focus on her. Then it turned to silver vapor and blew away in the wind.

The last thing Sara saw was 'that Potter boy' leaning over her.

She had never even asked him for his real name.

She saw the words forming on his lips.

His name was Harry.

Harry Potter.

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Kay, so how was that? I'm begging ya…please R&R!!! Or I'll cry… I might turn it into a story if you guys beg enough :)