Disclaimer and Claimer: I do not own Harry Potter or pretty much anything in this fanfiction other than the basic plot line which I would copyright. Any copying or posting of this fic without my permission is strictly prohibited. All characters and the settings of the Hogwart's Express belong to JK Rowling.

Hero Alone: Prologue

Riv

The sky was dark and gloomy, ominous clouds blocking every last gleaming of the sun's light. The rain fell in torrents upon the hills and valleys causing woodland creatures to flee to their burrows for protection from the harsh drops of water.

Harry sat alone in the compartment having requested that Hermione and Ron leave him. He wasn't lonely. He was never lonely. Not in seventeen years of his life could he recall missing his parents, or wanting anything more than to just be alone without needing to depend on anyone or anything for survival.

He supposed he had been mean to Ron and Hermione. They had wanted to help, to make everything better for Harry. Poor fragile Harry, scrawny and pale. He needed time to think, not that he hadn't had that time over the summer. All those sleepless nights were perfect times for going over everything in his mind, the attack on the castle, Fred and George, dying the death of heroes. Yes, he remembered everything, but right now his mind was elsewhere. It was not in the past, but the future and what lay ahead for Harry.

He was becoming well acquainted with the peace of solitude when a familiar, sneering voice split the silence like a knife, "All alone Potter?" Harry looked up to see the boy, slightly taller than he with fair hair, light eyes, and a pale milky complexion over a will defined chin and nose. Draco Malfoy had changed from the scrawny white ferret of his fourth year to quite a handsome man at the start of his seventh, "Your friends afraid of you now Potter? Do the mudblood and the weasel not want to be seen with Voldemort's cousin?"

"Shut up Malfoy," came the quiet, short response. It was true, Harry was Voldemort's cousin. Second cousin actually as Voldemort was Harry's great uncle's son. This was one of the many things that had raced its way through Harry's brain during all of those sleepless summer nights.

"Scared Potter?" continued Malfoy's sneer, "Scared of what you're going to become? Scared of what you're gong to do?" With the passing phrases, Draco had been inching closer and closer to Harry until their faces were no more than an inch apart and Draco's voice was hardly above a slight hiss, "You're no hero Potter. Evil flows through your veins. It pounds in your chest. It whispers in your ear. Don't try to feel so pure Potter because you're no better than your parent's murderer. You can't refuse your Destiny. The New Dark Lord sits in this train!" Draco's last sentence was a proclamation that was projected at least a car in either direction, "Farewell Potter," he left the way he came in as through the opposite doors rushed Hermione and Ron looking awkward, nervous, and, in Ron's case, scared.