Thin, bruised hands held him back, tilting his small body tauntingly over the edge. He was weak, his limbs limp at his sides. He couldn't struggle if he wanted to, he had no control—a puppet whose strings were splayed out, ready to be cut.

Black eyes staring coldly into his own.

"Help me."

But Harry couldn't speak, all the air was gone from within him, his chapped lips moving soundlessly.

A pressure at his neck, tightening to a chokehold at his already sore throat. He couldn't see; his sight blurring from the lack of oxygen. He felt more than acknowledged the wet streak than ran down his cheek. The blurry soulless eyes seemed to track the moment. And then the pressure was gone.

He let go.

And then he was falling, falling, falling

X:-::x::-:X

Harry woke wide-eyed with a gasp that sucked the air from his lungs. He turned on his side, coughing roughly. Pressing a hand to his damp forehead, he tried to reclaim the lost air, his sweat-streaked hair plastered to his pillow.

…what in the bloody hell?

Beside him the modest inn's spotted clock chirped excitedly. A bleary glance at the pink flashing numbers told him it was 5:00AM. On the dot. He groaned, wrapping himself in the tangle of peach colored sheets.

A childish whine curled in his throat. He pulled the endless bundle of cloth over his birds-nest of a head. He didn't want to get up yet. He felt like he'd hardly even slept.

He laid quietly for a moment longer, drawing patterns with pad of his index finger into the firm mattress. His hair was starting to stick to the back of his neck.

He frowned and rolled over to stare at the ceiling, the chills of his nightmare tickling his arms as the memory faded. Harry hadn't had a nightmare like that in a long time, so why so suddenly—why now?

Those cold black eyes glared at him from the corners of his mind; devoid of mercy, devoid of a soul. He shivered again and sat up to turn off the alarm clock. It was already 5:32.

If he wasn't quick he'd miss his train. And he definitely wasn't going to let that happen.

X:-::x::-:X

Harry pulled his bags from the train cart, thanking the staff with a apologetic grin as the departing whistle blew sharply. Leaning against his trunk, he watched the red beast disappear from the station in a puff of thick, white smoke.

The train had been barren of students, expected, as the curriculum had began nearly a month before. Despite that, there had been a particularly kind male attendant who'd helped him get his bags above his head, as well as a sweet, grandmotherly woman who'd pressed candies into his hands halfway through the journey.

He was surprised to note he would miss the glittering, crimson vessel. The cab to London station could hardly be described as a magical experience, but the train! Wow. He didn't even want to think about how much the ticket would have been had his not been part of the scholarship fund.

Harry peaked at the crumpled map in his hands, then up at the dirt road before him. He groaned once more that morning. He thumped his way up the sharp hill, dragging his trunk behind him. The weathered leather sighed and groaned along with him at the rough handling.

The fresh Scottish air was crisp under his nose. It ruffled his still not-quite-dry locks from his speedy shower that morning. Harry chuckled briefly at the sudden memory of the farms they'd passed on the way to the secondary school.

He supposed himself lucky the school was on the outskirts of Scotland or else it'd be a finger under his nose rather than fresh air. A few minutes and the pulping sound of dirt and grass under his worn trainers gave way to cracked pavement and tiny rocks, hinting at further civilization. He took a deep breath and glanced up to face the next three years of his life.

The straps of his duffle bag slipped from his limp fingers, his trunk forgotten. It hit the smooth gravel in a satisfying crunch, but Harry was too immersed in what stood before him to give a shite.

Reflected in the deep, foreboding lake that spread wide before him was a magnificent structure. An architectured mesh of thick stone and brick; there were spiny turrets, and covered parapets, and towers! Good Lordthere had to be at least four of them.

Stacks upon stacks of thick tiles scattered the countless rooftops. Even from what had to be at least a kilometer away, Harry could tell they'd been placed centuries before his father had ever caught wind of his mother's pretty face. The structure was supported by sprawling mountains that rested behind. An unnerving clump of spare-looking trees one might call a forest a dark shadow towards the west.

The historic monument before him wasn't a school. Harry gaped. Scrabbling to grab his bags and push his glasses back up, having slipped down his nose in a nervous sweat.

It was a bloody fucking castle.


a/n: Er—hello there! I see you've decided to give this fic a go and I thank you greatly for that. ^_^

I'll use this space to acknowledge that I do not own any of the characters or familiar backstory that this fanfic is based on, the amazingly creative J.K. Rowling does. Also, this fic will include a slash main paring, as in a male/male relationship at some point in the story so please turn back now if you are not interested in reading. I have yet to decide if the slash paring will be particularly 'amorous' enough to warrant a M-rating, time will tell, as they say. I also do not have a beta for this story, thus if you find spelling mistakes/grammatical errors that are killing you softly feel free to add them to a review, though I do ask you write a little more in that little box below, other than my spelling errors ;).

Last of all, as this will be a non-magic AU fanfic, there will be characters you would not expect to find in the same era/period of time. Though I have attempted to keep things a tiny bit canon, everything, including characters ages and relationships will be explained throughout the story, so no worries~