Prologue

"Dear Bella, may I see you in here?" Voldemort asked angrily from his seat at the head of the table. Beside him sat Severus Snape, no expression on his cruel face. All of the other Death Eaters sat grouped around the large oak table. The most devoted and faithful servants sat closer to the Dark Lord, including an empty seat where Bellatrix was to sit, right beside Voldemort. Also, the most useful to him sat closer, and that's why the two closest to him were Severus and Bella. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy sobbing into their hands, closest to the empty left for Bellatrix.

Bellatrix had just arrived; Ralphius had been hitting her again. Ralphius had always been abusive to his wife, sometimes the anger overcame him and he just couldn't hold it in. Bellatrix was used to it by now, she just slapped his face harder, leaving a large red welt on his cheek. She did not know why he dared her to hurt him; Voldemort was closer to Bellatrix than Ralphius; he would defend her first.

She was wearing her same black dress, with matted dirt stains on it. Her hair was large and frizzy, also matted with dirt. The curls that some called beautiful knotted up into a huge rat's nest; her hair had not been combed in years. Her fake nails were sharp claws, painted mustard yellow with large flecks of brown dirt littering the chipping surface.

Bellatrix was wearing several silver-chained necklaces around her grungy neck. They overlapped in several places and the longest chain swung by her waist.

The slits on her dress revealed pale, dirty skin. She had not showered since a couple of months ago, atleast. She stayed with Narcissa and Lucius; they had a shower they used everyday. Everybody urged Bellatrix to shower more often, but she spent more time devoting herself in every way to Voldemort. She had no idea if the Dark Lord appreciated her for everything she did; although he said Bella was his most devoted and faithful servant.

Bellatrix walked shamefully into the dining room, knowing she were to be in trouble. She was immediately curious, as she was used to Narcissa sobbing, but Lucius was one who tried to be strong. Bellatrix never trusted the two to be true Death Eaters; they had not devoted their lives to the Dark Lord like she herself had! They had always seemed more caring for their only son, Draco.

"Yes, my Lord?" she asked quietly.

"Can you explain the meaning of this?" Voldemort held up a scroll. The paper was crinkled and yellow, old and worn down by the sun, obviously delivered by owl. She thought she smelled something dead.

Bellatrix squinted to read the small, cursive ink letters. The color drained out of her grungy face as each word was read over and over in her mind. Her eyes widened with each single word.

She pulled her wand out of her boot forcefully, pointing it at the ceiling in anger as a blue streak flew from the tip, hitting the ceiling and leaving a large, crumbling circle in the high-ceilinged dining room.

Bellatrix looked at the rest of the Death Eaters, and they stared with their fierce eyes at Bella. But then every eye in the room turned toward Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, as they sat sobbing in their hands.

Chapter 1

Harry was sitting remorsefully on his small, hard bed in his tiny, odd-smelling room. He held a picture, a crinkled, yellowing photo. Tears sprang to his eyes as he examined it.

It was a photo of Harry and his godfather, Sirius Black. They were standing in front of a fading yellow wall in Sirius's home. The wall looked cream with the fading buttercup yellow. Harry saw no pictures he recognized; it was just a blank wall and the oak wood flooring with several layers of dust that had not been cleaned off. The ceiling was slanted as Harry remembered, and the tiles on it were popcorn kind, with big bubbles and flakes littering the ceiling. Harry was wearing a plain white V-neck shirt and jeans. Hermione told him he had looked handsome in those clothes. He had his arm around Sirius's shoulder, and Sirius had his arm around Harry's shoulder.

His godfather that he had not seen in so long looked so different than in Harry's memories.

The most noticeable difference was that in Harry's mind, Sirius was a kind, caring, wonderful person who loved him and was his only family. He would have given up his life to protect Harry and his two best friends, Ron and Hermione. And he did, he went to the Ministry, knowing the danger of the Death Eaters, and as he was there, he endangered his life fighting for Harry's.

In the photo, he still looked like a prisoner.

Harry set the picture back down on his nightstand and sighed. He lay down on the bed as he stared at the ceiling and his green eyes closed slowly, a wall between the torturous, painful present and the happy, peaceful memories he had experienced.

He wouldn't say he was not excited to go back to Hogwarts for his sixth year. But he wondered, would it be the same when he didn't have a family once again? Before, he had felt so safe, so happy, so loved. And now he felt so cold, empty, and alone. Would it ever feel the same without the only family he would ever have?

He sat up from the bed, although, the warm blankets and comfy, almost, mattress made him feel like falling asleep, because sleep was a world where anything could happen, and sure, there are occasional nightmares that fill your mind with the dark side of things. Lately the most reoccurring nightmare was not merely a vision of fantasy monsters that he could simply blast away with a wave of a wand. It was something that had already happened, not even that long ago.

Harry was just tired of watching Bellatrix wave her wand, and blasting Sirius with that red lightning bolt, and a scream of "Avada Kedavra!" before he dropped to the ground.

And Harry was crying and screaming and writhing against Lupin as he pulled him backward, away from Sirius's dead body, and Bellatrix laughing at the murder of her cousin, that evil grin that lit up her features with that haunting look. She had been waiting so long for that. Harry just couldn't imagine devoting your whole life to murder. It just seemed horrible and disgusting. Especially when it's someone like Sirius.

He wondered if Ron and Hermione were excited for Hogwarts, or if they were as utterly mortified as he was. They probably didn't understand the feeling.

Because they had family. They had moms and dads who loved them and cared for them. If they lost a godfather, they'd be sad. They might have even cried. But soon they'd get over it. Because they had more family.

Harry was all alone. Sure he had the Dursleys. They were blood family, but Sirius was family by caring for Harry like nobody else. The Dursleys couldn't care less if Harry was happy, sad, alive, or dead. In fact they would probably prefer him dead.

Harry started to pack. Yesterday he had gone shopping for schoolbooks and robes with the Weasleys. Those were all carefully placed into his suitcase. He placed his necessities like a toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste that was given to him by the Dursleys. It was the cheap, throwaway kind that the dentists give to you at the end of the appointment. Of course, Harry was never allowed to go to the dentist. Or the doctor. Why waste money on him, when he could just use a simple spell to zap away cavities or a disease? Harry wanted to yell at them, "It doesn't work like that! Can't you just pretend you like me, at least until I leave for Hogwarts? And you can continue with your life as if I didn't exist." He was sure that they already did.

Harry packed the rest of his things, anger boiling in him. He could feel it rising through, as if liquid hate rose through him and bubbled at the surface. Maybe he was mad at Bellatrix, for killing the only person who cared. Or maybe he was mad at the Dursleys, for never caring for him, and always giving him the worse side of the deal. Or maybe he was mad at Sirius, for leaving him.

He really didn't care whom he was mad at; he just knew how terrible he felt.

Harry wondered if it was time for dinner yet. Vernon and Petunia did not call him down; they usually ate without him. And of course, Vernon had seconds and thirds, because he was a very big man, and Harry got the scraps at the bottom of the bowl. He didn't care. He was too angry to eat anyway.

With a sigh, he changed into his nightclothes and fell asleep, ready for tomorrow, when he would get to leave this sick, torturous place, and go where he had friends that cared for him.

That night he did not have the same, reoccurring dream that he always had. It was actually a dream he would never tell anybody about. It made him feel so awkward inside.

He was in a dark room, and his lips were molded against somebody else's. She was sweet smelling, like cherries and sugar. It was a familiar scent to him. His hands were resting in her hair; it was soft and silky with bouncy curls. Her hands were resting on his cheeks pushing his face closer to hers. His eyes were closed but he didn't want to open them. He didn't want this kiss to end. Her lips were glossy, as if gloss had just been applied to them.

But she was slowly backing away. All he wanted was to grab her by the waist and pull her closer to him.

But they pulled apart. And his eyes were still locked shut. He was scared to see who this mystery person was.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open.

Her features were perfect. Full, pink lips that opened up to see a set of pearly white, straight teeth. Her skin was perfect and smooth, no blemishes or freckles. And her eyes, emerald green, framed with thick, black lashes.

Just above that were perfectly shaped, brown eyebrows. Her face was the most beautiful face he had ever seen.

The hair was light brown, like caramel, with perfect shine and curls. It was shoulder-length and bangs swept her forehead in a perfect arc.

The realization struck him like a knife.

He was kissing Hermione.

Harry woke up with sweat pouring down his forehead; he sat up and pulled the scratchy blanket off of him. He shoved his glasses on his face and got up to go to the bathroom.

He stared at his face in the mirror. Had he really just dreamed that?

He turned the shower on to cold and quickly got in. He washed himself quickly and got out, throwing a polo and some jeans on. They were Dudley's old clothes, so they were a bit big on him, but it didn't matter. Soon he would be wearing robes and nobody could tell that he wasn't loved enough to be given his own clothes.

He went down stairs and checked the clock. He still had an hour before he had to leave for the train station. He threw a pastry in the toaster and waited for it to pop out. The Dursleys were in the living room; they had finished their extravagant breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage with a glass of orange juice while Harry was in the shower. They were watching the news on the television, and Harry peeked through their heads to see the weatherman announcing today's forecast.

When the pastry popped out of the toaster, Harry sat down and ate it on the counter. Mrs. Dursley had actually chosen his favorite kind: strawberry. Usually she grabbed any flavor she saw on the shelf, and Harry had to force a pastry with apple and blackberry down his throat.

Harry went upstairs and grabbed his owl, Hedwig, his wand, which he carefully tucked into his suitcase, and the rest of his luggage. He brought it gently down the staircase and set it down on the floor right beside the door.

"Do I have to drive you to that Hog Pimple place again?" Vernon asked gruffly, not turning his head toward Harry.

"It's called Hogwarts, and no, the Weasleys will be picking me up any second now." Harry stated.

"Good."

Harry recognized the Weasley's car. It pulled up in the driveway, and Harry opened the front door, glanced back at the Dursleys. They did not say goodbye, or even acknowledge him. He turned back around and let the door slam behind him. He dragged his suitcase behind him with one hand, the other hand holding Hedwig's cage.

Harry climbed into the back seat; it was a very crowded car.

"Hello, Harry." Mrs. Weasley said kindly.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley." Harry said, laying Hedwig's cage on his lap.

"How are you and the Dursleys?" Mr. Weasley asked. He was very kind and caring for Harry and the Dursleys, although Vernon and Petunia had no tolerance for wizards of any kind.

"Uh, they are fine, I guess."

"Have you talked to them at all today?" Ron asked from across the backseat. He realized he was sitting right by Ginny. Ron did not, however, care for the Dursleys. He saw them as mongrels; how could somebody not care about Harry?

"Well, yes, Vernon asked if he had to drive me, and I said no." Harry stated, feeling like he had too much attention in this cramped car.

He saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchange worried glances; Harry felt they cared too much about his home life. Obviously he was fine. They didn't harm him; poison the scraps of food they left or leave snakes in his bed. Actually, they acted like there was no Harry Potter. Especially not in their house. But Harry liked it that way. Ever since Sirius died Harry felt as if he was given too much attention. He needed to be alone, to wallow in his own self-pity.

"Radio's broke. I've been trying to fix it the whole way here." Mr. Weasley stated. Nobody responded.

"Harry, I've been sending owls to your house the whole summer. Did you get the messages?" Ron asked. Harry looked over Ginny, Fred, and George to see him, sitting on the window seat, as cramped as Harry was.

"No, sorry, Uncle Vernon shoos all the owls away." Harry said quietly.

"Oh." Ron said, disappointedly.

It was quiet the whole car ride to the station. Harry didn't feel like it was awkward silence, he felt it was just silence. If he had anymore, though, he was sure his thoughts would make him insane.

Ginny sat closest to Harry, and he realized how beautiful she looked. Harry tried to keep thinking about this, and not about Sirius. Ginny's hair was straightened; he had never seen it that way before. He thought she might be wearing a hint of makeup; he could see her eyelashes clearly now. And she had a hint of blusher on her cheeks. Harry noted the way it made her eyes look beautiful.

She was wearing a green tank top and shorts that ended well above her knees. On her feet were white flip-flops, and they looked as if they had just been washed. Her toenails were painted bright pink; nail polish was a luxury for the Weasleys. On her wrist was a woven rope bracelet.

Ginny turned to him and smiled a pearly white, straight-teethed smile, just like the one in Harry's dream. Harry shook that memory out of his head. How could he dream about his best friend like that? It seemed so wrong, but yet so right.

Harry recognized the familiar train station. The car came to a stop right in front of the wall they were supposed to go through.

Harry climbed out of the car and stretched his legs. Out piled the Weasleys, grabbing their luggage. George looked around, saw no humans looking at him, and ran right through the wall, disappearing into the dark red bricks. Fred followed him right through, then went Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, and then Mr. Weasley. Ron and Harry then went through. Harry noticed that Ron looked like he had filled out more during the summer. His long, bony arms and legs were now thicker, with muscles. His long, sloppy hair was cut just like Harry's, short and out of his eyes.

Mrs. Weasley gave all of the children a hug, including Harry, where she whispered in his ear, "Harry, have a great year. This summer you can stay with us. Don't worry about the Dursleys."

Harry pulled away from the hug. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. For- for everything." He gave her a real, true, sincere smile.

"I know it's been hard for you lately, ever since, well, you know." She said, with a sad, remorseful expression on her kind face.

"I'm fine. Really I am. I told myself to forget about what happened," Harry cleared his throat. "What happened at the Ministry."

Molly put her hands on his shoulders. "If you need anything at Hogwarts, just send me an owl. We're always happy to hear from you, Harry."

"Thank you Mrs. Weasley. I better get on the train if I want to have good seats." Harry said, and he trotted toward the train, where Ron waited on the step for him.

"Goodbye, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley called.

Harry waved at her as he climbed the steps with his suitcase.

"Sorry about my mum." Ron said as they boarded the train. "She just adores you, you know. You're all she ever talks about, it seems."

"It's fine. Nice lady, she is." Harry responded, no smile on his face.

"Say, where's Hermione?" Ron asked, looking around. "She should be here by now. Train's leaving any minute."

"Yeah. She usually meets up with us by now."

Harry and Ron set their luggage down in their compartment. He hadn't seen anyone that usually sat by them, like Luna or Neville.

Harry wondered if they were early. He looked around. He saw many other Hogwarts students bustling around, but not nearly as any as usual.

"And what about Ginny, Fred, and George?" Ron wondered.

They slid open the door of the compartment and slid out.

Ron and Harry saw a sight that made them sigh with relief. Neville was running up to them. But he was all alone. No Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Fred, or George.

"Neville, where is everyone?" Harry asked as he approached.

"They're all over there." Neville said, short of breath from running. He pointed over to the other side of the train. "It's George, I think he's hurt."

Ron panicked. "What's wrong? Did he fall? Is he okay? Neville, tell me! Is it serious?"

"Calm down, Ron. He's alright. Maybe a broken leg. Not really sure. There was a big crowd. I don't know what happened." Neville said. "Go see him. I'll lead the way."

They hurried through the train, past all the bustling students that he saw. They went through many hallways until they saw a giant crowd of familiar people.

"Out of the way!" Ron shouted. "That's my brother!"

People let him pass through until he was at the front. Harry could not see what was going on, as he was still in the back. But he saw Madam Pomfrey, who went on the Hogwarts train to ensure no students got hurt on the way to and fro, was hurrying from the back of the train.

She made her way to the front. She examined George for a while, testing out his consciousness and things like that. She tested his reflexes before standing up and shooing the crowd away.

"It is alright, students. Just a broken leg. I can fix that right up in the first aid compartment. Go sit back down."

The crowd dispersed, and only Fred remained. Harry and Ron finally found who they were looking for.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted, but Ron remained quiet.

"Harry, I didn't think I'd find you!" Hermione said, running up to him as he gave her a giant bear hug.

But it was all too real. The dream he had had. It was so familiar, his hand on her waist. He pulled away quickly, and Hermione looked at him strangely.

"What's wrong, Harry? I haven't talked to you all summer!" Hermione said, with that same brilliant smile.

"Nothing. It was just," Harry cleared his throat again. "It was just nice to see you."

"It's great to see you, Harry." Hermione said, smiling her beautiful smile. "Ron come here, I need a hug from you!"

Ron walked up and encircled Hermione, with his big, muscley arms. They didn't pull apart for a while, and for some reason that bothered Harry.

When they pulled apart, they walked together back toward their compartment.

They opened the sliding glass door, and found Neville, Luna and Ginny waiting for them.

They settled in and began talking, and Harry realized what real friends are. People who can make you laugh, and somebody you can cry with. Somebody who cares for you in your darkest times, and you care for even when they aren't caring for you. That's what friends are. And that's what Harry had, sitting around him.

Luna and Neville spoke to each other, and from Harry's point of view it looked as if Neville was interested in her. Harry had to admit, Luna was a beautiful girl, but not Harry's type. He thought they were good together, but she did not seem that way. She looked at Neville as a friend, and Harry saw that in her electric blue eyes.

But for some strange reason, he saw Hermione as more than a friend.