Disclaimer: As much as I want to… I don't own harry potter or any other characters that J.K. Rowling has created

A feather floated down in front of him, and another one, and another. He made a grab for one, missed.

.Flash.

A warm breeze started to swirl around him, bringing with it dry leaves, dirt and twigs.

.Flash.

He walked down a dry dessert road, there was no sound save for the winds distant moaning.

.Flash.

He was standing on a canyon edge. If he had looked down, he would have seen a tiny river twining it's way through a vast canyon.

.Flash.

A warm breeze started to swirl around him, bringing with it dry leaves, dirt and twigs.

.Flash.

He heard a sound on the wind…a call; it was too far away to make out what it said.

.Flash.

A shadow passed overhead slowing his descent.

.Flash.

He was looking into a mirror and what looking back was not his reflection…yet, it was.

.Flash.

A feather floated down in front of him, and another one, and another. He made a grab for one, he caught it!

.Flash.

Darkness…

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Harry sat up instantly, breathing heavily. It had been the same, ever since he had returned the Dursley's. It was the summer before 6th year started and for once he was not looking forward to returning to the place he called home.

Harry carefully got out of his bed and slowly padded over to his desk. He had been wondering whether or not he should write to Dumbledore concerning his dream. It had started the first night upon returning for the summer, and that was a week ago. He took out some parchment and his writing gear; he placed the quill into the ink and hesitated. It wasn't as if the dream was doing him any harm, it was nothing but flashes of vague images, where as Voldemorts dreams were always distinct and agonizing. He sighed and place the quill down, no, he wasn't going to write to Dumbledore, he had lost his trust in the man at the end of last year with loss of his godfather and the reviling of the prophecy.

Harry stood up and walked down the stairs. It was quiet and still, something that was strange in itself as normally at this point of the day dudders would be sitting at the kitchen bench screaming at his mother to make him breakfast, which would then lead to his Aunt yelling at himself to make breakfast. He entered the kitchen and noticed a note lying on the bench. Harry picked it up and read it; it read:

Boy, your aunt, Dudley and I have gone away for the weekend. Make sure you complete the chores listed below. And DON'T DO ANYTHING FREAKISH!!!!!!!!

Your Uncle,

The note continued, to the floor, with a list of chores.

He sighed and walked to the fridge. Taking out a bagel (Dudley was obsessed with them), he looked at the first couple of chores on the list:

Weed the garden

Prune the hedges

Mow the lawn

Considering that this was only the first couple of chores, and knowing that it would take a day to even these ones, Harry know that this was going to be a long weekend

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Harry winced as he straightened his back, wincing again when he heard the cracks his spine made in protest. The sun was setting. He had miscalculate the time it would take to even to do the first chore, this was because the Dursley's had decided to forgo the need of a gardener and had waited till he got home, ergo, the garden was a mess. He was too tired to even get himself dinner and decided to crash on the couch.

As Harry was to concerned on drifting off to the world of sleep, he never noticed a dark fog slowly creeping down Privet Drive. This fog was thick and a cold as death, and made even the bravest of men hide in there homes. Therefore no one noticed as the fog slowly seeped under the door of number four Privet Drive, and no one noticed as it slowly settled over the sleeping Harry.

A.N. well… What do you think?

All you have to do is press that nice little review button and I'll continue the story