A young man of at least twenty, hurried quickly down a cobblestone path, in the direction of a small, stone building. Night had already swept over the little village, which now lay in a sheath of blackness, all except for one house. As the man knocked on the door of this stone house, the dim light which had been glowing from the windows vanished. Sounds of shuffling feet and hushed voices escaped the cracks between the stones. Suddenly the door creaked open and the man swept in, his long cloak trailing behind. And then--silence. Complete silence had overcome the village. It was almost disturbing in nature, for even though the night was usually quiet, it had never been silent. For now, something was different. Something strange had broken the safety of the village. Something...was not right.

Harry woke with a startle. A strong gust of wind had hit the Dursley's house, causing his window to rattle, and now he sat straight up in his bed, wide awake and thinking. This wasn't the first time he had dreamt a strange dream that had felt so real. Only this time, he thought, it was lacking of detail and significance. Harry tried to put the events back together, tried to find meaning, but the only thing that continued to nag at his nerves was the silence that came when the man with the long cloak had entered the house. This, and nothing else.

A loud hoot echoed in the near-to-empty bedroom, which ripped Harry from his thoughts and brought his attention to the snowy owl in it's cage. She looked at Harry and then nudged her head toward the window.

"Not tonight, Hedwig. It's too stormy. You'd be blown away!" He whispered across the room, but she continued to hoot.

Harry heard a snort from Uncle Vernon's room and decided it'd be best to let Hedwig out after all, before someone woke up and got rid of her all together. He pulled himself out of bed and tip-toed over to her cage. After unlatching the cage door, Hedwig nipped at Harry's finger affectionately and flew over to the window, which was still shut.

"Oops! Sorry girl."

Harry opened the window and Hedwig flew out, escaping from the strong gust of wind that now flew into Harry and knocked him off his feet. The wind was still pushing against him as he crawled to the window in an attempt to close it. But the wind was too strong and now whipped around his room like a miniature tornado, knocking books and sheets of parchment off his desk and into the whirlpool of wind. Just as Harry almost reached the window, he was lifted into the air and soon found himself swirling around the room. He grabbed on to any solid object he could find (his desk, bed, book shelf, even Hedwig's cage) in an effort to keep himself from going deeper into the whirlpool. But nothing could stop him. Harry had reached the heart of the bedroom tornado, which now carried him out the window, away from the Dursley's, away from 4 Privet Drive.

Chapter 2

When Harry had finally opened his eyes and had blinked away the dizziness feeling, he was stabbed with sharp reality. No longer was he in the safety of his bed. No, definitely not, for now he was not languidly supported by his soft mattress nor surrounded by the usual summer warmth. He was sitting on the cold ground, surrounded by darkness when he noticed a familiar stone house sitting quietly at the end of a cobblestone street. This was the village from his dream.

Harry thought for a moment, trying to figure out why he was in that village and how he would get out. But his thoughts were disrupted by the murmur of voices leaking from the house. He crept carefully up to the open window as quietly as he could possibly manage, which took quite a bit of time since he had to meander around a maze of dried leaves that littered the lawn.

Harry pressed himself flat against the stone wall beneath the window, straining his ears to listen to the conversation inside. Of the many voices, there was one in particular that stood out. There was an aura of confidence surrounding it's words.

"If we choose to act now, we will have no obstacles to avoid--"

"But Adran, not getting caught is an obstacle in itself." interupted a softer voice.

"Yes, but if we strike now, they will be unexpecting. Hitting them swiftly will leave them too numb with shock to suspect any of us of committing anything!" Adran shouted determinedly.

There was a long silence after that, which was somewhat unnerving for Harry, who couldn't see what was happening within the stone walls from his position. Worrisome thoughts flew through his head. Had he been discovered? Had they sensed his presence? Harry heard footsteps coming in the direction of the window. His palms began to sweat and he pressed himself closer to the stone, hoping to remain hidden in the shadows.

Adran leaned his elbows on the windowsill and glanced up at the night sky. He was right above Harry, who had to cover his mouth so that no sound would escape his lips. He couldn't help but wonder what would become of him if he was caught.

"Adran, should we..." the voice trailed off.

"We are left with no choice," Adran mumbled to himself.

Aiming his glance upward, Harry recognized Adran as the man from his dream. His skin was pale; a few black locks of hair fell over his forehead. His black eyes wore an expression of thought and concern, but they were cold eyes. They were the eyes of a killer. Harry felt a chill trickle down his spine.

These cold eyes stared into the silent night, and Harry remembered them.

And then through the silence, Harry could hear the faint sound of someone crying.

"Shut her up!" Adran shouted as he pushed himself from the windowsill. "I have a large enough headache as it is. I don't need some whiny girl making it worse!"

Curiosity can be a dangerous thing. Harry's would soon get the better of him. He detached himself from the wall and held his breath as he poked up his head to peer through the window.