Summary: Harry's Sixth year at Hogwarts as I see it. Involves a lot of angst, death eaters, dementors, and well...you'll see.

disclaimer: none of this is mine, as you should all know. it belongs to the genius aka JK Rowling. hope u enjoy.

CHAPTER 1: The Attack

The shrill laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange rang through the dreams in Harry Potter's mind. For the past week, since his arrival back from Hogwarts, he had been dreaming constantly of seeing Sirius' death. Each night he dreaded going to sleep and was bordering on insomnia. His godfather's gaunt, terrified face haunted his thoughts and would never leave him alone.

On this particular night; however, the memory seemed more vivid than ever. Harry awoke with a cold swept dripping down his face. His breathing was heavy and his heart was pounding loudly inside his chest. Harry looked around as if trying to find his godfather, hoping beyond hope that he would be standing in his room laughing his bark-like laugh and telling Harry that he was back. Harry knew, though, that this wasn't going to happen. Sirius was gone and there was no way he would ever be able to see him again in this life.

Something outside Harry's room moved. He jumped, suddenly aware of why his dream was so vivid. Outside of his window stood 10 death eaters, along with 30 or more dementors. Harry felt his blood run cold. Why were they here? Harry ran as fast as he could into his aunt and uncle's room to tell them to hide, but they weren't there. Harry, wand in hand, looked outside again. The death eaters had Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley held up high in the air by an invisible force. Harry was sickeningly reminded of the Quidditch world cup when Mr. Roberts and his family were being disgustingly played around with. Aunt Petunia looked as if she had passed out. Dudley was crying horribly, and Uncle Vernon seemed to be in a daze.

"Come out, come out where ever you are baby Potter," said the same shrill laugh that had haunted Harry's dreams for days. "We want to play with you and your filthy muggle guardians," Bellatrix taunted. Harry knew why they were here. They were here to kill his relatives so that, in turn they could kill Harry. But he stood rooted to the spot. If he left his house he would be vulnerable to them, but if he stayed they would surely kill Aunt Petunia and come in after him. He was stuck and had no means of contacting the order.

"Expelliarmus," Harry whispered at Bellatrix from a window. Her wand flew through the air and Harry caught it.

"Oh, baby Potty thinks he's so clever," she laughed, and some of the other death eater's laughed with her. "But he should know better than to think I wasn't expecting that," she said and pulled out another wand. The one Harry had stolen suddenly turned into a snake, and he threw it aside with a gasp. He could hear Dudley whimpering in the distance.

"Shut up you fat muggle, or I'll make you," said a death eater that Harry recognized as the pockmarked Rookwood.

"Was Voldemort happy with you, Bellatrix, when you failed to bring him the prophecy?" Harry sneered as he made his way to another window.

"You dare utter his name," she spat. He could hear the anger rising in her voice. "You do not-- will not-- you despicable half-blood."

"Poor baby Bellatrix," Harry mocked with an obvious baby tone. "When will you learn that Voldemort," he put an accent on his name, "is just the same as I am, and he knows it!" Harry was trying to make all the death eaters mad enough to take their focus off his relatives so that he could levitate them to safety as he fought the 50 or so surrounding his drive way. Harry silently had an idea. He ran to the phone, dialed Ms. Figg's number and prayed she would answer.

"Hello," said a groggy voice.

"Ms. Figg?" Harry questioned.

"Yes, who's this?" she inquired.

"It's me, Harry. I need you to alert Dumbledore and tell him that the death eaters have attacked. And hurry because they have my relatives. Please don't come out here just hurry," he begged. He hung up just as he heard her gasp with the shock of everything she had just heard.

Then Harry heard another voice, a familiar raspy voice that reminded him of a sewer rat.

"Ye-- Yes, Harry Potter," said the nervous sounding voice. "Long time, hasn't it?" Wormtail stuttered.

"You," Harry sneered, a sudden anger rising in his chest. "I thought you might have died, Wormtail, but I'm glad you didn't. This way I can do it myself," he yelled. But inside, Harry knew it wasn't true. He couldn't kill Wormtail even if his heart desired to. The only person Harry would ever kill would be Voldemort, because it was his destiny. Harry peaked out of the nearest window and saw Peter Pettigrew standing in the middle of the hooded figures. His silver hand gleamed in the moonlight.

"How does it feel to have no real friends, Wormtail? You've lost the only friends you've ever had and you're life is run by a half-blood nutter. Look at you, your wretched." he spat with pure hatred in his voice.

"We-- Well, I...I..."

"I think it would feel great," said an icy cold voice from out of the shadows. Voldemort had finally arrived. He raised his wand up at Aunt Petunia. "Avada--"

"Hold it right there, Tom," Albus Dumbledore commanded.

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