Disclaimer: None of this is mine; I'm just meddling a bit with JKR's world is all! Please don't sue me:)

AN : Not the most original one of those out there I know. But this has been bugging me relentless until i did something about it. My first attempt at fanfic, so...

CHAPTER ONE

THE SCAR

Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though he had been running. He had awoken from a vivid dream with his hands pressed over his face. The old scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his skin.

He sat up, one hand still on his scar, the other hand reaching out in the darkness for his glasses, which were besides his pillow. He put them on and the bedroom he was in currently came into clearer focus, lit by the moon light that was filtering through the tiny window. The moon still looked almost full now, and he was suddenly reminded of Remus Lupin. He wondered for a second how his old professor was doing then, with no one to keep him company this time, did he even have access to his potion this time, that he was no longer at Hogwarts?

Harry ran his fingers over the scar again. It was still painful. He quickly scrambled out of his cot, tiptoed across the small room, weaving his way through the four beds quietly so that none of those sleeping awoke, ducked to avoid hitting the sloping ceiling, opened the door and peered outside to see if anyone was still awake. Quietly as possible, he made his way down the rickety stairs towards the kitchen for a glass of water. One of the loose stairs at the first floor landing creaked a bit and Harry froze hoping he had not awakened the occupant across the door at this landing. With no such indication, he made it to the kitchen even more quietly than before, found a glass, filled it with water at the sink and drank greedily. After another glass of water, feeling satisfied, he turned and caught sight of himself in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece. The moonlight coming through the window in the kitchen was enough to show him a skinny boy of fourteen looking back at him, his bright green eyes puzzled under his untidy black hair. He examined the lightning-bolt scar of his reflection more closely. It looked normal, but it was still stinging.

Harry tried to recall what he had been dreaming about before he had awoken. It had seemed so real…There had been two people he knew and one he didn't…He concentrated hard, frowning, trying to remember…The dim picture of a darkened room came to him…There had been a snake on a hearth rug…a small man called Peter, nicknamed Wormtail…and a cold, high voice…the voice of Lord Voldemort. Harry felt as though an ice cube had slipped down into his stomach at the very thought…

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remember what Voldemort had looked like, but it was impossible…All Harry knew was that at the moment when Voldemort's chair had swung around, and he, Harry, had seen what was sitting in it, he had felt a spasm of horror, which had awoken him…or had that been the pain in his scar?

And who had the old man been? For there had definitely been an old man; Harry had watched him fall to the ground. It was all becoming confused. Harry put his face into his hands, blocking out the kitchen, trying to hold on to the picture of that dimly lit room, but it was like trying to keep water in his cupped hands; the details were now trickling away as fast as he tried to hold on to them…Voldemort and Wormtail had been talking about someone they had killed, though Harry could not remember the name…and they had been plotting to kill someone else…him!

Harry took his face out of his hands, opened his eyes, and stared around the kitchen as though expecting to see something unusual there. As it happened, he caught sight of an extraordinary thing through the kitchen window. A strange silhouetted shape was moving in the moonlit sky at amazing speeds, almost as if there was someone out there flying in the sky on a broom or something. The moon suddenly shone out from behind the sparse clouds it had been covered by briefly, and he caught sight of the moon light reflecting off the figure's red hair. It was a mesmerizing sight, he had to admit, the way the person's long hair, some escaping from the long pony tail it was tied in, glistened and sparkled in the moonlight when it bounced off of it. He suddenly had a sneaking suspicion who exactly it was out there, for no other person he knew had long hair of that shade of red, and considering the size of the said person in question, there was little doubt in his mind about the identity of the person anymore. He stood there astonished for a few moments, almost gaping incredulously, and then smacked his forehead for his stupidity.

Of course, she would be flying out there all she wanted, she must be used to this routine. But the way she was flying right then with such an easy grace and fluidity, very much lacking in her brothers, she must have been doing this for years! And then a small part of his brain questioned why none of her brothers had ever even mentioned in passing about her skill. Of course, there was no reason for them to tell him about it specifically, but why then they never even invited her to play along with them? Suddenly, he had a very good idea why, they themselves must not know anything about this. Yes, that must be it! For what other reason did she have to go sneaking behind everyone's back, to just fly in the middle of the night then?

Harry Potter was intrigued and by now very much curious about Ginny Weasley, for it was she who was out there still, while he was gazing at her flying around in the night sky, face pressed to the glass pane of the kitchen window he had no recollection of when he had moved forward to so closer. His decision made he quickly snapped out of his reverie, and slipped quietly through the kitchen door towards the back garden, and towards the orchard, where Ginny was currently. Finding a place to sit down, he carried on watching her with admiration and respect in his eyes. After a while, he slipped back into his reflections, though his thoughts were now on the littlest Weasley and how little he knew about her then. He had been to the burrow before only once after his first year at Hogwarts and the month he had spent here had some of the best moments in his short life of fourteen years. Back then, Ginny had been awfully shy and quiet when in his presence, he remembered. Always blushing and stammering and knocking things about when he was around, he had always found it a bit awkward then. Then the business with Tom Riddle's diary had happened and Ginny and he had almost died at the end of his second year at Hogwarts in the Chamber of Secrets. But Fawkes had come to their help and saved them both and everything was right in the end. But after that he had not had many opportunities to speak with her, nor did he make any overtures to get to know her better after that incident. Although, when a seemingly mad man, arrested for murdering thirteen people in one stroke, has escaped from the most heavily guarded prison known to wizards, just to kill you personally, and that said mad man was your supposed God-Father, he thought he could be excused for being a bit pre-occupied in his own problems last year more than usual.

But now he knew the truth was not what it seemed, his godfather Sirius Black was actually innocent of all crimes for which he was arrested for, instead it was Peter Pettigrew aka Wormtail, the traitor, who was responsible for murdering twelve muggles and blaming it on Sirius. He was the one responsible for the death of Harry's parents, selling their information to Lord Voldemort by giving away the secret to where they were hiding. Voldemort had killed both of his parents on Halloween almost thirteen years ago, tried to kill Harry too, but the curse had backfired upon him due to his mother's sacrifice for Harry, leaving Voldemort without a body until now and Harry had gotten this scar which was still tingling a bit with the residual pain from where it had awoken him earlier. With a jolt he remembered, why he was feeling so restless until Ginny had distracted him. It was Wormtail again who had somehow found Voldemort and they were both plotting to murder him! What was worse, they had already killed someone else tonight, for it was the green light of the Avada Kedavra curse that had been one of the two things which had finally woken him from that dream he was having…Hang on, dream? Was that really a dream or not? It had felt so real back then, but he was not sure how he was able to even see what he had seen, or whose point of view he had seen it from, even if it was real. It was all so confusing and frustrating to him; his scar had only bothered him before when Voldemort was close by, like back in his first year.

But Voldemort couldn't be here, now…The idea of Voldemort lurking near the Burrrow was absurd, improbable…But was it really impossible?

Harry listened closely to the silence around him. Was he half expecting to hear the snap of a twig or the swish of a cloak and impending footsteps? And then he jumped slightly as he heard Ginny give a slight shriek of triumph as she pulled out of a dive and made another loop around the area. She still hadn't noticed him sitting there in plain sight in the little pathway which led to the front of the kitchen door, so caught up she was in her excitement and thrill.

Harry shook himself mentally; he was being stupid. The Burrow had upon it impressive wards put upon by Bill Weasley, the eldest of the Weasley brothers, who was a curse breaker at Gringotts, the goblin controlled wizard's bank. His head master Albus Dumbledore too had come by in the afternoon on the second day after his arrival at the Burrow, and added a few of his own wards to make it even safer. The day before that, Harry had even had the first birthday party he ever remembered, well a belated birthday party rather, as it was a day later when the Weasleys had come to Privet Drive to take him away to the Burrow. And what an eventful incident that had been! Fred and George had come along with Ron and their father, Arthur Weasley and they had arrived in the Dursley's living room literally with a BANG! The twins had dropped one of their sweets, accidentally of course, for Dudley to see it plainly and be tempted by it. He had been on a diet whole summer, and Harry and remaining Dursleys had to go along with the meager proportions of food for lunch and dinner until then to provide encouragement to him. While Mr. Weasley was busy fixing the broken furniture and such in the living room, Dudley had given in to the temptation and picked up the sweet and quickly gobbled it up. Alas, the result was quite amusing and horrifying at the same moment. Amusing for Harry and the Weasley boys that is, but horrifying for everyone else. Uncle Vernon had exploded, Aunt Petunia had shrieked and screeched, Dudley had gagged upon his foot long tongue and Mr. Weasley had tried in vain to pacify everyone while at the same time attempting to rectify the situation. After everyone had arrived at the Burrow, they had all laughed heartily along with Bill, Charlie and Ginny until Mr. Weasley had come home and shouted at the twins. Their mother, Molly Weasley had heard the commotion from inside the kitchen and laid it upon the twins with a heavy dose of shouting. Sometimes he thought he could still hear his ears ringing if he concentrated a bit!

He had met Charlie and Bill then, whom he could only describe as cool. They were both pleased to meet him and Harry found himself quickly warming up to them - as if anyone with the surname Weasley would be ever unpleasant to him! Even Percy Weasley, who had passed his NEWTS last year and had joined the Department of Magical Co-operation at the Ministry of Magic under Bartemius Crouch, was always pleasant to him, though he came off a bit pompous at times to everybody. Mrs. Weasley had asked him about his birthday from day before, and the look on his face must have been a dead give-away, for everyone present had fallen silent at that. She had decidedly determined to hold an impromptu birthday celebration for him that day in the evening and Harry had reddened embarrassingly trying to tell her there was no need to.

"Nonsense, Harry dear! We would love to give you a proper birthday party", she had said. And a party he did have, for Mrs. Weasley had baked an amazing cake for the occasion along with all of his favorites for supper that night. He had gotten quite a few presents from them all; Ron and Ginny had got him a few Chocolate Frogs along with birthday cards, the twins had given him some assorted candies, Percy had given him his old guide book for prefects, even Bill and Charlie had given him something from their old stashes. Hermione's food parcel had arrived shortly thereafter along with her birthday card, the owl had first gone to Privet Drive it seems and upon not finding him there tracked him down to the Burrow.

That was a couple of days ago and he had quickly got used to the life at the Burrow thereafter. De-gnoming the garden, playing Quidditch with Ron and the twins with an apple or swimming at the pond in the mornings (the twins had taken it quite seriously upon themselves to teach him swimming when he had told them about his lack of experience); and when it was too hot outside or they were feeling too lazy for anything else, he would play chess or gob-stones or exploding snap with Ron and others who were there. Ginny would join them during such times and he had caught her blushing a few times when he spoke to her directly, but she did have conversations with him at a stretch now - that was quite an improvement from two summers before.

A startled gasp brought him out of his musings, only to find that Ginny had decided to end her night time flying, and was on her way towards the broom shed and had decided to go back up to sleep.

He quickly stood up and took in her rosy-cheeked appearance before speaking teasingly, "Quite late for a bit of a fly, isn't it Miss Weasley?"

Ginny was clutching her heart looking at him shocked that he had caught her.

Speechless for a moment she observed him standing coolly as ever in her path, smirking at her and teasing her!

"What the hell are you doing here so late in the night?" she all but shouted at him.

"Wow! Do you want to wake up everyone else, Ginny? I knew your brothers were a bad influence on you, already swearing you are!" he added quite amused now.

He could see her cheeks pinking even more at that, but she jutted her chin out and whispered, "I didn't notice anyone else out . I couldn't sleep and flying helps me take my mind off a few things I would otherwise worry about. So I go for a late night fly at such times." She narrowed her eyes at him then and asked again, "What were you doing out here so late?"

Harry avoided her eyes and looked about. Everything was peaceful out here at the moment, the moon shone brightly in the night sky; the trees in the distance were swaying and the leaves rustling along with the wind. Suddenly he felt a bit chilly and rubbing his arms turned to Ginny again. She was waiting for his answer expectantly. He didn't know what to tell her. He was not sure himself why he had waited here watching her fly, instead of going back up to sleep after he found out the identity of the mysterious late-night flyer. Of course, he had ended up reminiscing instead, but this was the first opportunity he had got to be alone for a while and think to himself and he had missed that at the Burrow.

He said the first thing that came to his mind, "You are a brilliant flier Ginny! Amazing! You should be on the Quidditch team!" He was practically gushing now. Ginny's cheeks flushed again as he praised her so and her eyes sparkled brightly, "Thanks Harry! I'm not sure about the Quidditch comment you made, but you didn't answer my question. Don't tell me you were spying on me to scout my Quidditch skills for this year's team", she finished quite dryly.

"Err, no…Not that, I mean, of course I wasn't spying", he stammered a bit.

"I'm sorry if I startled you before, I woke up due to a dream and came down for a glass of water and saw someone flying in the distance on a broom, figured it was you and came to investigate. Then I saw the way you were flying and was watching you fly, but then I got caught up with my thoughts until you came here," he finished apologetically.

Ginny had sat down and made herself comfortable by then and he did the same.

"Is that why you are looking a bit peaky?" she asked leaning forward to look him into the face clearly and almost reached out her hand to touch his scar, before she caught herself and sat back again. "Your face is still pale and your scar is red too, was it a nightmare you had?" she finished quietly.

Harry could see the concern in her brown eyes quite clearly and balked for a few seconds deciding how to reply.

He could tell her it was just a silly dream and not to worry, but the concern he saw in her eyes seemed so genuine and he so desperately wanted to figure out what was happening – he knew he had to tell someone, but whom? He wondered for a moment what his best friends would say to him if he mentioned this to them?

At once, Hermione Granger's voice seemed to fill his head, shrill and panicky.

"Your scar hurt? Harry, that's really serious…Write to Professor Dumbledore! And I'll go and check Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions…Maybe there's something in there about curse scars…"

Yes, that would be Hermione's advice: Go straight to the headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult a book. Harry stared upwards at the moon. He doubted very much whether a book could help him now. As far as he knew, he was the only living person to have survived a curse like Voldemort's; it was highly unlikely, therefore, that he would find his symptoms listed in Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions. As for informing the headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, full length wizard's robes, and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose. Wherever Dumbledore was, though, Harry was sure that Hedwig would be able to find him; Harry's owl had never yet failed to deliver a letter to anyone, even without an address. But what would he write?

Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning.
Yours sincerely,
Harry Potter.

Even inside his head the words sounded stupid.

And so he tried to imagine his other best friend, Ron Weasley's, reaction, and in a moment, Ron's red hair and long-nosed, freckled face seemed to swim before Harry, wearing a bemused expression.

"Your scar hurt? But…but You-Know-Who can't be near you now, can he? I mean…you'd know, wouldn't you? He'd be trying to do you in again, wouldn't he? I dunno, Harry, maybe curse scars always twinge a bit…I'll ask Dad…"

Mr. Weasley was a fully qualified wizard who worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, but he didn't have any particular expertise in the matter of curses, as far as Harry knew. In any case, Harry didn't like the idea of the whole Weasley family knowing that he, Harry, was getting jumpy about a few moments' pain. Mrs. Weasley would fuss worse than Hermione; and Fred and George, Ron's sixteen- year-old twin brothers, might think Harry was losing his nerve.

But it was not Ron who had found him here after he woke up from the nightmare or dream whatever it was. It was Ginny Weasley, his younger sister. And he didn't quite know how she would react if he told her his scar hurt. A sound like slight clearing of throat brought him back to the present. Ginny was still waiting patiently and looking at him with more than slight concern now. With a sigh he said, "Nothing Ginny, It was nothing serious." She obviously wasn't buying it judging by the expression on her face.

"Please Harry, do I look stupid? You spaced out a lot over there for it to be 'nothing'. Was it...was it about Black?" she asked hesitatingly.

"NO!" his head swirled towards her at that, and he all but snarled at her.

Taking a deep breath, he calmly said "It was not about Sirius, it…well, I had a weird dream and when I woke up, my scar was hurting like hell. It's not about Si...Sirius at all", his breath caught in his throat while thinking about Sirius and how he must be doing. He hoped he was okay and healthy, well, as healthy you could be, while being on the run from the law. Ginny was looking quite confused now. "Your scar hurt? Does that happen normally after you have had a nightmare?"

"Not actually, no. It only acts up when I am near Voldemort you see", he said quietly looking down. Hearing her gasp, he looked up again, but could not know if she was startled due to what he said or because he had said Voldemort's name.

She looked around for a few seconds and then back at him again, "He can't be near by. Not for quite a few miles, Bill and Dumbledore put up wards remember?"

"Yeah, that's what got me flummoxed, you see! My scar has never hurt this way before!"

She stayed silent for a while before asking, "What did you see in your dream? Maybe that will give us some clue then?"

Now that he had told her about it, he too started thinking back on his dream. But could he tell her about it? What if she panicked? Besides she didn't even know about Pettigrew and last year. Only his two friends, Remus Lupin and Dumbledore knew the truth about Sirius' innocence besides him. Could he trust her with this? He decided not to. He couldn't take any chance with Sirius' safety.

"Its okay Ginny, leave it be. You need not worry. I don't think it's important. We should go to sleep, it's pretty late." With that he got up and started to turn around, but a small, firm hand on his arm stopped him.

"Harry, it's not nothing! You said yourself your scar has never hurt this way before. Look, if you are just saying that because you don't want to tell me, fine. I've no problem with that, but at least promise me you'll speak with Mum or Dad tomorrow? "Harry remained quiet at that, he was pretty sure he was not going to tell them about his scar hurting. He didn't want his stay at the Burrow punctuated with anxious inquiries about his scar.

"You don't have to worry about me tattling about it, if you don't want to tell them. At least you can trust me on that," she said a bit mulishly.
"I just wanted to help you Harry, if you would let me…"

He looked at her then and saw her eyes imploring at him, willing him to believe her, trust her to let her help him, however she could.

It was as if he was looking at her for the first time. He could see her deep chocolate brown eyes clear in the moon light which caused her long lustrous red hair to shine and glint when the moon shone on them. She still held her hand on his arm; there was very little distance between them as they stood apart.

There was a swooning sensation in his stomach all of a sudden and he felt funny.

Turning a bit, he looked around confused at a loss what to do. With a sigh, he looked back at her again and sat down motioning her to do the same.

It was going to be a long night, he thought.

Ginny was a pretty good listener, he thought as he finished his tale. She was looking quite amazed and astonished at him. He couldn't really blame her for that. The whole thing when told from a third person's point of view appeared so far-fetched and unbelievable, he himself at times had trouble wrapping around the fact; how in a span of few hours he had gone from being only a burden to his only remaining relatives to having a god-father with a chance to permanently leave the Dursleys and move in with Sirius. All those plans had been scuppered though when Wormtail had escaped before they could take him to the Ministry of Magic, and Sirius had had to flee for his life. Harry had helped him escape on the back of a hippogriff called Buckbeak, and since then, Sirius had been on the run. The home Harry might have had if Wormtail had not escaped had been haunting him all summer. It had been doubly hard to return to the Dursleys knowing that he had so nearly escaped them forever.

Nevertheless, Sirius had been of some help to Harry, even if he couldn't be with him. It was due to Sirius that Harry had had all his school things in his bedroom with him while at the Dursleys. The Dursleys had never allowed that before; their general wish of keeping Harry as miserable as possible, coupled with their fear of his powers, had led them to lock his school trunk in the cupboard under the stairs every summer prior to this. But their attitude had changed since they had found out that Harry had a dangerous murderer for a godfather - for Harry had conveniently forgotten to tell them that Sirius was innocent.

Harry had received two letters from Sirius while he had been back at Privet Drive. Both had been delivered, not by owls (as was usual with wizards), but by large, brightly colored tropical birds. Hedwig had not approved of these flashy intruders; she had been most reluctant to allow them to drink from her water tray before flying off again. Harry, on the other hand, had liked them; they put him in mind of palm trees and white sand, and he hoped that, wherever Sirius was (Sirius never said, in case the letters were intercepted), he was enjoying himself. Somehow, Harry found it hard to imaging dementors surviving for long in bright sunlight. perhaps that was why Sirius had gone south. Sirius's letters sounded cheerful, and in both of them he had reminded Harry to call on him if ever Harry needed to.

He was thinking about writing him a letter then, asking his advice on the matter because he could call on Sirius without feeling stupid, for he had had experience with Dark Magic and cared about him unconditionally…

All this while Ginny hadn't said a thing and he was waiting for her reaction anxiously, hoping he had not made a mistake in telling her everything.
When she finally looked at him, he found her smiling at him shakily and a bit uneasily. "You never quite catch a break, do you Harry?"
He could only snort at that.

"You know, as unbelievable and cock-and-bull this sounds, I don't think after the Chamber incident anything could really surprise me anymore," she added staring off into space. It was his turn now to put his hand around her arm and bring her back to the present. Squeezing it a bit, he said, "That brings me to my dream then. It all felt so real and chilly. I don't understand half of it frankly speaking." With that he recounted his dream to her with as many details as he could remember. At the end of which, Ginny looked quite pale and shaken herself. Aghast, she could only say, "Can't he just die and leave you in peace? Why couldn't he have stayed dead when you defeated him when you were a baby? Don't you deserve to have at least one school year where you don't have to look over at your shoulders every now and then?"

Surprised at her outburst, he squeezed her arm once more saying, "Well then my life wouldn't be half as interesting anymore, would it?" She gave a weak snort at that and Harry was relieved she did not blow her top like Hermione would at him making such a joke. "That's not funny, Harry!" He could almost hear her shrill voice screeching in the back of his mind.

"Are you going to tell Professor Dumbledore about this?"

"And what would I write to him if I did? My scar hurt this morning and I saw Voldemort and Wormtail plotting to do me in? That's no big news to him ever since Trelawney made that prophecy last year!"

"Well, next time you se him, I think you should at least tell him your scar hurt when you saw this dream, he is probably the only one who can tell you the reason for this. We don't even know if this has already happened or it was some kind of a future vision. I sincerely doubt your subconscious being as imaginative and creative as is required to simply make up this whole dream."

Harry smiled at that, "Yeah, definitely not my imagination then."

He paused for a while thinking what to do.

"I guess I should write a letter to Dumbledore. I shall write one to Sirius too."

"Yeah, you do that," she smiled encouragingly at him.

"Thanks Gin. Thanks a lot! You have been a great help. I'm glad I decided to trust you with this. You are an amazingly kind and caring friend. Though I never gave you any time of my day last year, you still are helping me –"

"Harry," she interrupted, "you had a lot going on last year to worry about giving me any 'time of your day.' Don't beat yourself up on that, I'm just glad that we could be friends anyways and I was able to help. Though I don't see what help I've been, but still – "

"But you have! You know, just listening to me and well...taking me seriously, and... all of this helped a lot, Gin" he finished earnestly waving his hands around.

Ginny smiled brightly at him at that and got up, offering him a hand to pull him up too. Seeing her smile brightly at him this way, Harry once again felt a flutter in his stomach, but took her hand and stood up anyway. Together, they made their way to the garden outside the Burow's kitchen and went inside through the kitchen door, locked it and made their way upstairs silently. Parting at her bedroom and wishing each other good night, Harry made his way to Ron's bedroom quite eager to sleep for a few hours, his mind now at peace after his talk with Ginny. He decided to write both the letters in the morning after he woke up.