A/N: Yes, I know it has been forever since I last updated, but there have been some trying time Is experienced over that period of time. I hope you all will forgive me. This story will definitely be updated about once a month until summer, I always scrambled last minute to write it weekly and I feel I should put my best work up, not what I could write last minute. Thank you for sticking with me. I have reworked this story completely, so be sure to read this chapter! I do know it is short, but I will update as soon as I can.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own Draco (I wish!)

Chapter 1

Six Different Directions

Harry screamed in pain, writhing on his bed in Grimmauld Place, alone in the dark. Kreacher had died shortly after the war, and now Harry regretted not having the elf there. Sweat beaded his forehead, if only someone could be there in this dark hour. He heard the grandfather clock downstairs chime midnight, and slowly the pain receded, leaving Harry shivering on his bed, clutching his sheets, his eyes bloodshot, his throat dry. Sobs still wracked his skinny frame; tears still streamed from his eyes, his glasses had fallen off ages ago. His eyes fluttered closed and he saw a fuzzy person stooping down, checking to see if he was alright, but Harry couldn't stay awake, he drifted off, too exhausted to keep his eyes open.

Draco was awake, but that wasn't surprising. He sat shirtless in the cool garden, the stone bench hard against his back, but he couldn't move. His mother had run off with some muggle, too deep in the dark world of drugs, alcohol, and prostitution to be much of a help to Draco. If only he would have convinced his mother no to have become an addict, if only he would've hexed that man as soon as he stepped foot on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. But he hadn't, and he felt the consequence, heart wrenching guilt and pain. He had long ago shed his last tears as a child in the oppressive household of Lucius. He stood up and slowly made his way back to the Manor, shutting the guilt inside of him; he had rebuilt the Malfoy fortune without either of his parent's help. He glided across the marble floor and up the opulent staircase, not noticing any of the grandeur around him. The doors opened ahead of him and he proceeded determinedly to his room, before collapsing on his bed, utterly spent.

Many miles away, Professor Minerva McGonagall was writing several letters, each in crisp handwriting. She sighed and glanced toward the portrait of Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling in the dim light.

"I see you doubt me Minerva." Dumbledore smiled, amusement glittering in his eyes.

"It's not doubt Albus. It's disbelief. How can these six have any connection between eachother?" McGonagall knitted her eyebrows together.

"It will become evident in time my dear Professor, it is for the best. Many things are yet to happen, many prophecies left unfulfilled."

McGonagall mused over the statement before sharply folding six different letters and placing them in envelopes addressed to six different people. She stood from the desk and carefully extinguished all the candles in the office before closing the door behind her.

"Yes it's all for the best." Dumbledore smiled to himself before stepping out of his portrait.

Acknowledgements: BiSciFiGuy gets huge hugs. You kept me afloat all this time; I appreciate it beyond belief. littlesprout, Lynn Richards, gaaralover51141, The OxyG, TaraJo, DarkEra'Ssnow, violetkitty02, DenayAmber, Tai Calibre, anion60302, silva moonlite, liL-niki, kira1525, yukino89, JasSsito