Chapter I
Summer Transition
The sky was darkening slowly as the last beads of tarnished orange light that represented the ending of a dry summer's day faded in time to a full moon's rise. In timing to this period of transition, the streetlamps of Surry slowly began to hue down on the passers-by of this village, hurriedly struggling to finish their late afternoon jogs before the sun finally set down.
Admist all the bustle that marked this time, Harry walked slowly through the long, leafy paths that adjoined the streets of Little Whinging. Harry had become accustomed to taking this path ever since he arrived back from Hogwarts, more then a shortcut from the local corner shop; it had become something of a memory lane. He had already passed through an ancient looking Church where he'd hide from Dudely when the occasion came, further along came the grey pavement mound that was Stonewall High – Harry's alternate secondary School, the gleaming Tower of Smeltings lurking in the distance, the junction on Magnolia Crescent where Harry had first met Sirius... Harry's wavering thoughts snapped immediately as he thought of him, like a knife slicing through his heart the guilt penetrated him. He still dwelled on the death of Sirius, and the pain that he felt made him feel weak and ashamed – 'The Boy Who lived?" Harry thought to himself, he was no hero – he...he was weak, vulnerable, and could hurt like any normal human, he was no chance against the likes of Voldermort.
Suddenly, as though triggered by the mere thought of a wizard as dark as that of Voldermort, a pair of silent footsteps crunched un-suspecting onto a fallen twig. Harry, who had been preparing for an attack wherever it may be, felt toward his wand, grasped onto it and spun around with the wand in hand. "Vicivicius!" he screamed into the dark night.
A jet of black light flew out of his wand and into the unfortunate body of a wispy looking white rat. Harry heaved a sigh of relief, yet equally felt a touch of ashamement in having used Dark Magic on a thing as harmless as a rat. He walked up to the rat, which was amazingly still alive, quivering on the pavement in what looked like shock.
With the cool breeze blowing past him, reminding Harry of the need to get inside before Vernon pronounces him dead to the community, Harry scooped up the tough little rat, cast one last furtive look around his surroundings, and ran to the house as the full moon set above him.
