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A/N:
Ok, I'm writing this after I've finished the story.
I know I'm no JK Rowling, but I still did my best to follow the spirit of the books down to the tiniest pesky detail. I'm sorry if this is offensive to anyone. I just wanted to warn you not to expect Harry to suddenly grow unbelievable magical powers that no one else has or Draco Malfoy suddenly turning good and falling in love with Hermione. That's what my other series (Krum Do I Love?) is for.
Don't wait for the beautiful American exchange student either. She's not here, and she won't be.
Not that I don't like Americans. I do. But that's just not going to happen.
Harry Potter and The Unforgivable Curses
Chapter 1: A dream, a scar, and a muggle
Harry was ecstatic about being allowed once again to spend the last fortnight of the summer vacation at The Burrow. He had spent the most wonderful two weeks with his best friend Ron and his family, despite the many tricks Fred and George, Ron's older twin brothers, tried on him. Harry was now used to letting the twins taste any food before he touched it, walking around with discretion, and never, ever picking up anything he hadn't seen before, especially new magic wands.
The beginning of the new school year held mixed feelings for Harry. He didn't know if he should be sorry for leaving The Burrow, or glad for starting a new year at Hogwarts.
Harry was too anxious to sleep, though nobody else seemed to be as excited as he was. The twins, about to start their last year at Hogwarts, were in their room, probably scheming up something spectacular to start the year with. Soft explosions sounded behind their closed door. Ron was long lost in his private dream world. Even Ginny, who was a year younger than he, had already gone to bed. She was tired after spending almost the entire evening catching up with Hermione, who showed up to make the trip to King's Cross with them.
The darkness of the night was beginning to dissolve. Dim pinkish light decorated the treetops of the nearby forest. Without knowing that he had fallen asleep, Harry began to dream.
Mad-eye Moody edged along a tall black wall. It seemed that the wall was made of something beyond mere black stone. It was built with pure shadow. Moody continued to stalk between the shadows, every ounce of his consciousness concentrated on one particular point far off ahead.
Suddenly, something moved at exactly the location Moody was staring at. A glitter, very much resembling a shape of a hand, a small pop, and then the shine was gone.
Moody ignored the disappearing glint, and continued his steady, quiet progress. Then, he saw something else move, so black that it could be seen as a dark figure against the background of the shadowy wall. Moody forgot about his stealth, and began to run as fast as his wooden leg would allow.
The clicks of the wood against the flagstones made the dark figure raise its dreadful head and stare at Moody. Moody closed his fist tighter on the wand that was ready in his hand, continued trotting. The dark figure decided to ignore him, and disapparated just as Moody was in spell range.
The spell was already rising from Moody's wand. This was the moment he was waiting for. He was prepared for the option that The Dark Lord would disapparate. He expected they would duel first, but this was just as well.
The pursue spell was beginning to work its magic, swirling around Moody as he stood at exactly where Voldemort had been. The street around him began to liquefy into a black and grey swirl. Moody wondered where the spell would take him. Anywhere would be better than this creepy place, he thought. He wasn't scared of eerie shadows, but that didn't mean he liked them.
Another street was taking shape around him. A narrow grit road and low brick houses filled his vision. Moody didn't recognise where he was, but he knew that it must be an alley somewhere in Muggle London. The image became clearer, and Moody felt the blood run out of his face.
In the mouth of the alley was an unsuspecting muggle. He gawked at The Dark Lord, who had appeared before him out of the thin air. Voldemort looked down at the unfortunate muggle without a shred of interest. He pointed his wand at him, and with a voice as casual as that of a weather reporter said "Avada Kedavra".
A green bolt came firing out of the tip of Voldemort's wand. It swirled around the muggle, engulfing him in a thick chartreuse cloud, and then exploded like a black firework. The muggle was very confused, amazed, shocked. He was absolutely overwhelmed. More important was what he wasn't. He wasn't dead.
If Voldemort was surprised, he didn't show it. He made another go at the death curse, this time shouting out the words. The effect was the same. Moody was so astonished by the muggle's escape, that he didn't respond to Voldemort's second curse, although his apparation was done. However, he quickly regained his wits, and when Voldemort raised his wand for the third time, he was ready. As The Dark Lord started voicing the words of the spell, Moody raised his own wand, and bellowed, "Expelliarmus!"
The disarming spell didn't so much as leave a notch on Voldemort. Voldemort, who just wheeled slickly, and completed the spell, lashing it at Moody.
Moody jumped for cover with speed unhindered by his wooden leg. He embraced himself in the stone entrance of one of the little houses. The wall beside him exploded, taking much of the threshold with it. Large blocks of stone caved in on him. Through foggy eyes, Moody watched Voldemort disapparate, this time without a pursue spell hanging over his head.
Moody stood up, and brushed the dust off his robes. He came out of this encounter with a mild concussion and a dislocated shoulder. It could have been worse. Still, Moody was deeply disappointed. He really though he had Voldemort this time. He should have had him. He would have, if it hadn't for that muggle.
The muggle.
Moody peered around hastily, afraid that the muggle might have escaped in the tumult. His concern was baseless. The muggle still stood where Voldemort had hit him, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide and unblinking. Moody was afraid that the muggle was, in fact, dead, and had just neglected to fall over, but a closer look revealed that the muggle's eyes were watering. As he approached the muggle, Moody saw that this was a young man in his late twenties, tall, with dark blond curls and livid eyes, which not having blinked for several minutes, were watering profusely.
"Hello." Moody said.
The pain was so sharp that Harry thought his head was about to split in two. He raised a hand to his head, but refrained from touching it, fearing that the burning lightning-shaped scar on his forehead would sear a lightning-shaped hole in his palm.
"What happened?" came Ron's voice from right beside his ear.
Harry opened his eyes slightly. The faint light coming through the window was enough to hurt his eyes.
"Luminus!" said Mr. Weasley's voice.
The pain was even worse. Harry was unable to speak. He just let out a little yelp.
"Sorry," Mr. Weasley apologised softly as he turned the light back off.
Slowly, Harry was able to open his eyes a crack. He saw eight pairs of eyes peering at him with great worry. Observing how tall they all appeared, Harry realised that he was lying on the floor.
"What happened?" said Ron, repeating his question.
"Did your scar hurt you?" asked Mr. Weasley with a severe tone.
Harry thought that 'hurt' was a grave understatement, but he still nodded his head, which was not the smart thing to do, as the movement unleashed what felt like molten lava inside his scull.
Mr. Weasley helped Harry up and back into his bed. "Everybody out of the room," he said after Harry was safely tucked in between his linens.
Percy and Mrs. Weasley went out of the room, followed closely behind by the twins, who uncharacteristically obeyed immediately. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stayed behind with Mr. Weasley.
"I said out," Mr. Weasley insisted.
"But dad -" Ron tried to argue, and then met his father's piercing stare. Mr. Weasley's frown was so grim and sombre, that Ron hardly recognised his father. He took Ginny and Hermione each by a hand, and marched them out of the room.