"What we imagine is order is merely the prevailing form of chaos"

Kerry Thornley

[A small, quiet town outside of London]

Harry Potter lay awake in bed. From his nightstand, red digits proclaimed that it was far too early for him to be up, or at least that's what he assumed they said. Without his glasses, he couldn't be sure.

had awoken in a panic, his brow damp with sweat. He tried to clear his mind of irrational worries and get right back to sleep, but a feeling of unease and foreboding kept him awake like a splinter in his mind.

He sat up and slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Blimey" he whispered as the time came into focus. 3am, an in-between hour.

Harry swung his legs out over the side of the bed. Beside him, Ginny stirred in her sleep. Careful not to wake her, he stood, pulling on a nightshirt. He felt around in the dark until his fingers found his wand.

"Lumos" he whispered, finding his way to the door with the help of the resultant beam of light.

'I'll just check on the kids' he thought as he made his way down the hall to James and Albus' room. Pushing the door open slowly he found both boys slumbering peacefully. James was tangled in his sheets and hanging halfway off the bed while Albus was just as Harry had left him when he'd tucked him in hours before. Although the Potter's house had enough rooms for each boy to have his own, they'd opted to continue sharing a bedroom when they were home for recesses.

Sitting at the foot of Albus' bed, Harry smiled down at his sons. It seemed like just days ago that he'd been watching them at their first birthdays or whizzing around his knees on toy brooms. Yet, all three of his children were now on summer holiday from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Convinced that his boys were safe and sound, he crept down the hall to his youngest, Lily. She too was sleeping soundly, her posture a sort of fusion between her brothers', with a book still open on her chest. Harry smiled, unsurprised. As a small breeze blew her curtains to the side, a silvery moonbeam illuminated her face, so much like her mother's.

While his sons certainly took after him with their dark, messy hair and emerald eyes, Lily was the real beauty of the three, a spitting image of Ginny. Something changed in you when you had a child, and something very special changed in a father when he had a daughter.

As Harry looked down at his daughter he felt closer to his parents than ever; closer, even, than those nights many years ago when they'd stood just feet away, on the other side of a sheet of glass.

Lily, James, and Albus were so dear to him that he easily understood what it was inside of his mother that had made her sacrifice herself for him on that fateful night when a certain dark wizard had come calling.

He felt a sudden chill and the unsettling feeling which had accompanied his awakening crept back into his mind. He did his best to shake it off, though it persisted like a coldness that creeps into your bones even when you've got a warm sweater on, or a loved one nearby.

Harry crossed the room and reached out to put his daughter' book back in its place, but he was stopped by a voice from the door. Apparently he had not been stealthy enough to keep Ginny abed.

"Never tickle a sleeping dragon." she teased from the doorway.

Harry turned. "You're up." He said, a little startled. "I was just going to put away…" he trailed off, seeing her gaze.

Ginny crossed the room to his side and wrapped her arms around his waist. Harry smiled at her. "Did I wake you?" he asked guiltily.

She shook her head, and fiery red locks licked her face like tongues of fire in the light of Harry's wand.

"Come on then, she'll be here even when it's a respectable hour of the morning." She promised, nodding back toward the door.

Harry nodded and leaned down to kiss their daughter before letting Ginny lead him back to bed. There was a peaceful stillness to the old house that often accompanied the blackness of night. This, more than anything, helped to calm Harry down.

As they slid back under the covers, Ginny took his hand. "Why were you up? You haven't been up all this time?" she asked, sounding concerned.

Harry shook his head "No, no it was nothing." He assured her "Just woke up a little dry. I needed something to drink."

Of course, this wasn't true at all. As far as Harry could tell, this was nothing so ordinary as a parched throat.

In fact, the last time he'd woken up feeling like this was 20 years ago…

[Somewhere in North America]

Thousands of miles across the deep black ocean from the Potter household, the mist rolled thick along the earth on an uncharacteristically cool night. It wreathed the mountains with and eerie shroud and covered the forest floor.

Nothing in the wood moved nor made a sound, save for a gentle zephyr that moaned through the trees encircling a clearing in the forest. Suddenly, there came a loud crack and three figures apparated simultaneously into the opening. They were darkly cloaked and each had a heavy hood thrown over their heads casting their features in shadow.

They paused a beat, heads sizing one another up. Then, wordlessly, they set off through the trees.

As they walked, there came a sudden stirring in the mist. Something, or some things, rather, were moving through what had previously appeared to be deserted woodland. They were visible through the mist only in part, a furry paw here, a dirty yellow eye there.

Then, as the entourage broke the tree line, the beasts were cast suddenly into moonlight. The light revealed a host of no less than a dozen large wolves moving in a loose circle around the wizards as they climbed up a gently sloping rocky face of the mountain.

Atop a lookout there stood what appeared to be a small, rickety outhouse made from various planks of wood nailed together haphazardly.

One of the wizards stopped, reaching a bony hand out toward a wolf, which trotted over to him and allowed him to pet it. This wolf was clearly the largest of the pack, its shoulder coming easily to the man's upper torso, and measuring a good seven feet muzzle-to-tail. Its fur was a brilliant silvery color, like spun moonbeams. The cloaked man leaned down and whispered something in its ear, then caught up to the other two wizards, who were waiting in front of the outhouse.

The wolves, lead by the silver one, threw back their heads and howled into the night. Each howl sounded at a slightly different pitch, and the result was an ethereal harmony that seemed to cause the air itself to shudder. As their cries faded into the night, one of the wizards stepped up to the door of the outhouse.

The man's mouth moved, and he appeared to be speaking, though no words could be heard. A soft scratching, like that of a sharp metal object carving into rot, came from the door as cryptic shapes like letters or characters carved themselves into the wood.

The cloaked wizard produced his wand from the folds of his robes, tapping the door thrice. Then, in a manner reminiscent of a certain platform in King's Cross station, he stepped forward and passed straight through the door as though it were no more solid than the mist.

Following suit, his companions also passed through the door. The cavernous hall they entered was clearly the result of a particularly powerful variation on the undetectable extension charm. Instead of a pit latrine, the three wizards found themselves in what appeared to be a cross between a large cave and a stone tribunal room. Already present in throne-like seats carved atop massive stone pillars were 4 other figures. The thrones were seven in total and stood at various heights.

Crossing to the base of one of the three unoccupied seats, each of the newcomers pointed their wands up toward the ceiling and spoke in unison. "Ascendio"

The figures shot upward, cloaks billowing, and came to rest on their respective roosts.

"Dietrich… you haven't arrived at your pre-determined interval." said a woman's voice in a thick middle-eastern accent.

One of the three who had just arrived responded, his accent much less pronounced than the woman's but still clearly Russian. "There were unforeseeable complications with my associate's accommodations" he responded flatly.

A third voice chimed in, English in origin this time. "Azkaban is just as difficult to get into as it is to get out of then" There came a few humorless chuckles from around the room.

Dietrich turned to the man who had just spoken, looking him up and down. "I see. So we have found a replacement for Thomas. At last." He muttered. "I trust you will not fail us where your predecessor fell short."

"I wouldn't worry. I have a contingency plan for dealing with bratty teenagers." The Englishman replied. "Your man was too reserved. I am not so inhibited."

Dietrich's nostrils flared. "Your bravado is poorly buttressed. Our noble calling demands a potions master most meticulous, a arithmancer with great care of calculation, not a blundering giant with a club."

Before anyone else could jump in, from the highest of the thrones came a voice unlike the others. It was slightly warped, androgynous, and commanded the silence and attention of all the other witches and wizards.

"He will soon have the chance to prove himself" it hissed "After all, that which we seek is hidden at Hogwarts…"