Disclaimer: If ye know of Harry Potter, then ye know I don't own it- I'm male. Seemplz.

DIVERGENCE

Harry Potter woke once again from the recurring nightmare of Cedric Diggory's ghost. His chest rose and fell, as he tried to steady his heart. He was sorry Cedric had died- he was a friend. Harry sat up in bed, and swung his legs out, studying his hands covered in invisible blood. He needed to wash his hands again. Harry was ashamed that he hadn't noticed how easy the Tournament was- only a sphinx with a rudimentary riddle, an acromantula, some weird gravity spell, and some hedges. It was Harry's sense of honour that had gotten Cedric killed. He needed to use his common sense, his intuition, instead of charging in like a Gryffindor; Malfoy would be taking the piss come the new school term, and he needed to stay cool, otherwise he'd end up on the wrong side of Snape. Again. Harry sighed. It's gonna be a long year...

Later, Harry was staring out of his window, overlooking the over-ordinary Privet Drive. He was thinking of the future and what it held for him. He knew that Lord Voldemort would be searching for him. He also knew that he wasn't strong enough to fight the Dark Lord- newly-resurrected and Harry still had trouble in the Priori Incantatem Battle of Wills. Harry needed to become stronger, and would therefore require training in the magical arts. Dumbledore would make a fantastic tutor- the man knew so much about magic that others just didn't have the capacity to comprehend! The green-eyed boy stood, thinking about how pureblood wizards could be defeated. Though the use of Muggle technology was frowned upon, Harry was sure that they could find a way to stop electronics from shorting out in contact with magic- muggles could blow up an entire city for Christ's sakes! Harry's thoughts wondered down a fanciful path, of him bringing the magical world into that of the Muggle, integrating the two, with the common inbreeding being stopped and technology increasing tenfold. Harry was daydreaming about what he could do for people if that was so. He would stop disease and expand humanity into the stars- just like those sci-fi shows that Dudley always watched on TV! Harry suddenly remembered- it was his birthday tonight. His mood soured suddenly- his birthday was always the worst time of the summer, when he was treated the worst by his relatives.

He glanced at his watch, seeing the seconds tick by until midnight struck. I'm fifteen. I wonder what the Dursleys got me this year, Harry wondered. His ruminations, however, were cut short as a bright flash lit up the night. A small spot of light remained high in the sky, slowly growing brighter and closer.

A shooting star… I have to make a wish! I wish… I wish that for once in my life, I will have the strength to help others, instead of them helping me. I wish for the strength to combat Voldemort and the Dark! I want to be powerful enough to make the Dark think twice about messing with me again! I wish that I can help people and bring our worlds together, end evil, and- and maybe experience Love…

Harry's magic- powerful enough to rival Albus Dumbledore's even at this early stage- swelled in answer. The spot of light pulsed. Harry's wish was- in a way- akin to a magical oath. Little did Harry know, however, his magic- the magic he used all the time, to survive and play- was the little tiny teensy weeny piece not locked into his soul. The lock started to crack as his magic tried furiously to fulfil his wish. Locked as it was, it couldn't be erased in rebuttal of the wish, and so struggled to change reality and the future. The small ball of light rushed closer, almost aimed directly at Harry. It pulsed again. Harry's locks again cracked slightly. Suddenly the sphere of light came surging through the closed window of his room, and stopped in mid-air- It smouldered, and burned and coalesced into a small, charcoal-like lump. This lump rippled and bubbled, until the surface was reflective and shiny. Harry reached out, as if in the knowledge that this was the manifestation of his wishes- his hand skimmed the surface of the crystal.

The smooth surface of the crystal rippled, pushed away from Harry's hand. Engrossed in the weird object, Harry neglected to notice other balls of light falling to earth, far in the distance. Then, Harry tried to feel the surface again. This time, it was as hard as it looked. The smooth surface however, did not reflect the second bedroom of Number 4 Privet Drive. No, it showed various scenes of a strange land, parts wreathed in snow, some in sand. It flashed views of vales and rivers, mountains and deserts and seas and glaciers. The images were beautiful, until a figure rose from a background of snow and ice. The palest of white skins, with brittle, almost colourless hair, the figure raised its head, revealing ice-blue eyes. A sword hung from its right hand, almost thin enough to not be seen. The other hand suddenly reached out as of to grab the young boy-

Harry shook his head clear of the vision, and the crystal fell onto his bed.

"What the-?" Harry exclaimed in surprise, as the crystal shrank rapidly, leaving only a small armband with a flaming phoenix upon it in black diamonds. Harry reached for it, completely ignoring his survival instinct, and slipped the armband onto his right arm. Immediately, Harry experienced excruciating pain as the metal sunk into his skin, pushing its way through his muscle, skin and sinew until it reached his bones. Once there, the metal of the armband heated up, until Harry blacked out from the pain of the metal seemingly spreading from his upper arm towards the rest of his body.

Harry awoke, his head feeling numb and heavy. There was a light surrounding him, cherry-red in colour, which gradually faded away through orange and yellow.

The teen rolled over, and recovered his glasses from where they'd fallen, groaning as he did so. The ground where he had been laying was blackened and charred, his splayed limbs burned into the floorboards. The heat had obviously been so intense, no flames had arisen from his room. Harry groaned in pain again as he suddenly felt immensely cold. He ran to the shower, and turned the heating knob to full, and clambered into the shower. He stood under the boiling hot water, until the hot water ran out. Still he felt cold. Harry wondered what was happening to him. His mind suddenly connected the body-shaped burn and his pain, plus his current predicament. The pain-as if I was burning- did I really burn? Was I actually hot enough to combust the floorboards?! What is happening to me? What was that armband that wormed into my skin?!

"Bloody curiosity, just can't keep my hands to myself, can I?" Harry looked at where he had slipped on the armband, and, to his horror, there was a palm-sized ink-black tattoo of a burning phoenix, with red eyes. Underneath, there were the words he could somehow read (despite them being mere squiggly lines) 'Honour until Death'. It faded away, just as soon as it appeared, leaving unblemished skin behind.

"What the hell? First some random crystal trippy thing, and then some screwed up Goth armband, and now an invisible tattoo? What next, Merlin?" Harry walked back to his room, wary of waking up the Dursleys. Once there, he inspected his room once more. On his desk, which was weirdly free of clutter, lay a large, octagonal box inlaid with black diamond crescents, and flame-ruby stars. The box itself was beautiful, although Harry appeared to have learned his lesson. He picked up his wand from the table and poked the box. No response.

OK, then, you aren't here to crawl around my skin, so what is it? Who sent the thing, and how did it get here if Hedwig is still with Dumbledore? Harry wondered. There's only one way to find out, he supposed. Grasping the lip of the lid by opposite sides, he lifted the covering to reveal a mask similar in colouring to the metal armband. This mask was stranger, if possible. The eye slits showed nothing through them, as if covered in some half-reflective material, and the area of the mask that covered the temples on the head extended back to sharp points behind where the ears would be. The mouth slit was a hard line, with angular lip-like protrusions. The weirdest thing of all was the smoke that seemed to be held within the mask. Instead of being plain matte black, it both shined, and absorbed light. Harry could feel the magic roiling off the mask, but, to his surprise it didn't feel dirty as it did like being near Tom Riddle's diary- the last time he'd felt magic emanating from an object. It felt… Harry couldn't think of a word that fit. Benevolent? Benign? Hermione would know of course, but Harry knew he would be forced to explain what he'd done. Best to keep his idiocy to himself.

The mask lay in the ornate box, swathed in priceless cloth, and yet Harry had the feeling the mask was worth infinite quantities more. Gently, with great care, he lifted the mask out of its container until the last of the fine silk and velvet fell free. The tingling of the magic grew stronger, it felt as if every bone in his body was being drawn to the mask. It can't hurt to just put it on, see what it looks like. I mean, it's not like its Dark magic! Harry reasoned. With that, he slowly raised the mask until the inside was in view. Strange, it's got padding in it! Are those runes, too? The padded lining of the mask grew closer and closer to his face, until Harry settled it into place. His eyes closed, he relished the feeling of the cool cloth padding against his skin. So smooth! I wonder who made it? The temple-points fitted snugly around the curve of Harry's cranium, holding the swirling mask in place.

Turning to look into his mirror, he nearly screamed in shock! The eye slits had taken on his iris colour, glowing a deep, vivid emerald colour. Around the mask was an aura of swirling darkness, which also seemed to be emanating from inside his own limbs. Is this that Mage Sight thing that was mentioned in one of those books Hermione got for the Tournament? I can see magic! My wand is bright, and so's my trunk! I wonder if people will be the same… Looking out of the front window once more, the masked Harry hoped to spot one of the residents of Privet Drive. What he got however, was a surprise. A surprise in the form of an invisible person, shown up by their aura. From what he could see the figure was a woman who shimmered greatly, as if seen through water. There's an invisible woman in my front garden! I thought Dumbledore said I was safe here?! Harry sighed. Never mind. They've probably been there a while, and they haven't done anything, so they probably won't do anything now.

With that, Harry turned away from the window and sat back down on his bed. He lifted the mask off, and suddenly everything returned to normal. He did notice a sudden feeling of loss, but he pushed it away. Harry turned the mask over in his hands, wondering what the runes meant. He really should've taken Ancient Runes instead of stupid Divination. That quack Trelawney constantly predicting his death just depressed him. Screw an easy grade- he wanted knowledge. Something to help him fend off Voldemort now he was back. He supposed that he should owl Professor McGonagall to change his electives- Care of Magical Creatures was fun, but useless. Hagrid would understand, he was sure. Harry knew it would be a hell of a lot of work- two, maybe three new electives if he took Muggle Studies would take up all of his time this year. Not to mention the fact that Defence Against the Dark Arts would be useless. However, he still needed a way to contact his Head of House, seeing as Ron and Hermione hadn't owled him this holiday. Not even for his birthday.

Harry frowned. Some friends! They knew he was being starved, and chose to ignore it. Meh, whatever. Suddenly, a bit of movement outside his window drew his attention. Cautious this time, Harry crept to the window sill to see the Weasley owl- Errol- aiming for the closed window of his bedroom.

A/N Right. This is my first ever published fanfic, so BE NICE. I'd like to know if you guys think I should continue, or change the style- this is all in preparation for my becoming an author, so constructive criticism works best.

Flamers gonna flame, but hell, why are you still reading?