Chapter 1: A Storm Approaches

September the first came slipping in like a shadow through a graveyard, and once more, Harry Potter found himself at King's Cross Station.

He stood at the barrier between platforms nine and ten, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his long dark coat, untidy jet-black hair snapping in a wind which was the death-throes of summer. His mouth was a line, having nearly forgotten how to smile. His eyes, however—inherited by his mother, Lily Potter—hadn't yet lost the knack.

Nymphadora Tonks, known to most by her surname only, let her eyes drift over the sixteen year-old wizard. She saw in him now both boundless strength and terrible vulnerability, and the two forces were clashing like dragons in a fight to the death. This young man was hero to millions, enemy to just as many.

He was the one she loved.

"I'll write to you," Tonks said earnestly. "Every chance I get, I promise."

Harry nodded. "Same here. I… don't expect much else in the mail. Y'know."

She heard the heartbreak in his voice, and swept him into a fierce hug. Harry could feel her body pressed to his, and it was like blissful agony. So close to her, yet not close enough… for either of them.

"God, I'm going to miss you so damn much," he murmured into her hair, now shoulder-length, and fire-engine red.

"I know, sweetie. I'll miss you, too. But who knows? Maybe our paths will cross before the year is out."

"Is that all they'll do?" Harry asked as they broke apart, and there was a certain measure of desperation in his voice.

Their eyes locked, and Tonks whispered, "I hope not."

She kissed him with a glance, and said, "Go. Before the train leaves, love."

Harry nodded. Swallowed hard. Then, he backed slowly away, through the magical barrier between the muggle world and Platform 9 and ¾.

He never took his eyes off her.

Waiting for Harry on the other side were his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. As expected, they both looked caught between shock and relief. Relieved, because Harry had almost missed the train. Shocked… because this was not the Harry they knew.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said. "Um… nice coat."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry replied, and tried hard to look cheerful. It felt like chewing on broken glass, and so he wasn't sure if he was too successful. "Hi, Hermione."

Hermione hugged him. "We were worried," she said. "You hadn't sent anything for the past three weeks! But Dumbledore said his tracking devices told him nothing was amiss, so we thought you might be angry at us… or… I don't know—"

"Shh," interrupted Harry. "I'm not angry. I just needed some time to think, that's all. I… I've been… busy."

"How'd you get here?" Ron asked.

"Tonks drove me," Harry said automatically, then kicked himself for being so stupid. People were not supposed to know about their budding relationship… but wasn't there a part of him that burned to tell the world? Wasn't there something that yearned to share the wonderful fact that he had finally found love, a love that went far beyond that idiotic Cho Chang episode? Was that why he'd let it slip?

Regardless, he was thinking of an excuse even as Hermione said, "Tonks? Why did she--?"

"Orders from Dumbledore," Harry lied quickly. "Y'know… guard duty and all that. I am the prime target of Dark forces everywhere, after all."

He chuckled sardonically.

"Come one, you two. Let's get a compartment."

Once they were settled on the train, Harry felt a little better. People on the platform had been staring at him, eyes filled with sickening reverence. Several of them had taken a few tentative steps towards him, only to falter… like he was some idol they felt unworthy to approach.

Except for the Slytherins, of course. They looked just as venomous as always, if not more so. Getting away from all that was definitely a relief.

"Harry?" Hermione said, as if reading his thoughts. "How are you feeling?"

"Er… fine. Well… better, anyway," he corrected. "You all keep telling me Sirius… that Sirius's death wasn't my fault. Maybe it's not. But I swear to you now…"

His eyes flashed.

"…I'm taking that bastard down. I'll do anything and everything I have to do… to see the Dark Lord fall."

Hermione's eyes were as round as an autumn moon, and Ron had a grin plastered across his face.

"All right, mate!" he said appreciatively. "That's more like it! What brought you 'round, anyway?"

"Can't you read between the lines, Weasely?" a familiar, drawling voice spoke up.

The trio looked to see none other than Draco Malfoy, leaning against the compartment door with his arms drawn across his chest.

"Our little boy Potter's had a fun few weeks."

Harry didn't hesitate. He drew his wand from the inside of his coat, and had it leveled at Malfoy's heart in the blink of an eye.

"And you have a death-wish." He grinned. "Come on, draw, you Slytherin fuck."

"Well," Malfoy chuckled. "It seems someone's developed a backbone. Lost your innocence in more ways than one, eh, Potter?"

"Malfoy," Harry said tersely. "You made a mistake to come here without Crabbe and Goyle. Now. I'm giving you to the count of three to clear the fuck out or, or so help me God I'm sending you to straight to Hell."

"Harry, NO!" Hermione cried, jumping up.

"Shut up, Mudblood," Draco said, and his eyes were dancing with delight. "You want to duel, Potter? Well, all right. But not here. Not now."

"Scared?"

"Hardly. See, I do want you dead… but first, I'm going to take away everything you care about. I going to tear your world down around you… just like you did to me."

A murderous rage coursed through Harry's veins, all but boiling him from inside out.

"One," he said quietly.

"Remember, Potter. Your suffering starts the minute you cross the threshold of Hogwarts."

"Hey, guess what? I'm fucking terrified. By the way: two."

"Catch you later, Potty… Weasel… Mudblood."

And Malfoy left the compartment.

He was laughing as the door clacked shut behind him.