Prologue

The autumn after Harry's 16th birthday saw him entering the sixth year of his magical education. As it had for the four years before it, the end of the summer meant a return to Hogwarts, a return to friends, enemies, and home. But this year felt different to Harry–it felt bigger, somehow, darker and heavier. But beneath that oppressive cloak Harry sensed a current of change, faster and wilder than ever before.

The journey to Hogwarts was itself tumultuous, especially for Harry's face. Harry wondered if he might end up with a nose like Dumbledore's, a crooked reminder of a past that would one day be far away. But for the time, it marked the beginning of Harry's nascent interest in one Draco Malfoy. Harry would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the look of shock on Malfoy's face when he walked into the Great Hall, nose unbroken. But there was something behind the surprise and anger, something that would one day prove itself even more dangerous.

Draco Malfoy was curious.

Harry was restless. His mind was wandering and his legs ached to follow. He knew he'd never get to sleep this way. There was one thing that always seemed to help him, though. Quietly, so as not to disturb his dorm mates, Harry got out of bed, slipped on a robe, and after pocketing the Invisibility Cloak and his wand, he headed for the door.

The Fat Lady quietly complained as Harry swung the portrait out but dozed off again immediately. Feeling bold, Harry left the Cloak in his pocket and struck out in a random direction. Even after all these years, there were still unexplored corners of the castle for Harry to see. Feeling the comfortably familiar passageways beneath his feet was soothing to him, but so was finding a new corridor or a previously ignored portrait on the wall.

Harry began to relax as his body fell into the rhythms of Hogwarts. Even though it had been his home from the moment he stepped foot onto castle grounds when he was 11, it still took a few days for him to get used to the place again. He thought about that day just over five years ago. He had met Draco Malfoy for the second time.

"Well, well." A familiar voice rang out from behind Harry, startling him out of his reverie.

"Think of the devil and he shall appear," Harry muttered without thinking, spinning to face Malfoy.

"What's that, Potter? You were just thinking about me? How sweet." Malfoy sneered into the last sentence, an expression of bitterness and superiority.

Harry said nothing.

"Well, Potter, it just so happens that curfew started about an hour ago. It also happens that you are out of your dormitory. And do you know what? It also happens that Dumbledore made me a Prefect."

"Yeah, and I suppose your parents love you now, just because of that."

Malfoy's face twisted into anger. He walked up to Harry and pointed a single finger in his face. "Shut up, Potter. You know nothing about my parents."

"Likewise, Malfoy. But that never stopped you talking about them, did it?"

Malfoy hesitated for a split second; something flickered in his gaze. "The difference is that I just enjoy seeing you in pain. You're far too noble for the reverse to be true."

"Maybe you're right," Harry whispered. In a single motion, he pulled out his wand, brought it up to Malfoy's face, clenched his own eyes shut and whispered, "Lumos maxima!"

"Agh!" Malfoy threw a hand over his eyes, temporarily blinded by the bright light. When he dropped the arm, Harry was gone.

Gone, but he had stayed long enough to see Malfoy's lingering gaze that seemed to be more than a search for revenge.