Please read the prologue for summary and disclaimer.

--

Chapter 1

You're still here then? Good, good.

There couldn't be a better audience for this tale.

But that aside, I had better get on with it, don't you think? I'm sure you're dying from curiosity and I really wouldn't want that. Oh no, Poppy would have a fit if I sent her another person whom...well...well that's not important right now.

Ahem. On to Harry - where was I? Oh yes, now I remember. This tale is going to be told as if we were still there, in that time in which it happened. Actually...better yet, I think I should just show you. Yes, yes that's the ticket. I'll show you and pop in with narrative when necessary. What a splendid idea. I wonder why I never thought of this before...

But, before we start, would you care for a lemon drop? I do love them. They are my favorites, even after all this time.

No?

Well, I can't tempt everyone. But, on with the show...

--

Late Summer

Dursleys Smallest Bedroom

No. 4 Privet Drive

The sun was just cresting over the trees to touch the roof of number four Privet Drive when the first signs of something being very wrong began to show. It wasn't a one thing that would tip a passer-by off that something wasn't quite right. It was a collective number of things. But fortunately for Harry Potter, it was far to early for anyone, including his Aunt and Uncle, to be awake and to notice.

When Harry woke that morning he knew something was wrong. Not just because he had woken up before the sunrise, which really wasn't an odd occurrence, but because his scar was tingling. Not burning like it would when Voldemort was up to no good but a gentle tingle. Almost as if electricity was massaging it or someone was touching it feather-light. Which was an experience that this particular young man had never in all his years of life had felt so it was indeed enough to make him jerk awake and clamp a hand over his forehead.

Looking around wearily to make sure it wasn't his cousin playing a nasty joke, Harry slide his legs from beneath the horridly thin sheets then up and over the side of his bed to sit up. Pulling himself into a sitting position, Harry gasped as the movement caused a sudden increased jolt in 

the feeling that, for a moment, overwhelmed his sleep fogged mind before subsiding. Even with the icy cold floor touching his feet, he found he could concentrate on nothing else beyond that prickly feeling buzzing up and down the lightening bolt scar that adorned his forehead. But all to soon the feeling began to fade as he pressed hesitant fingers against his scar.

Beams of sunlight began to seep through the tattered remains of what used to be curtains as Harry traced the feeling away. He wasn't sure why but the feeling was disturbing in a way that he couldn't explain. It wasn't as if it were the first time his scar had given him a twinge; especially during this particular summer. Ever since Harry had come back to the Dursley's after his fifth year at Hogwarts, his scar had burned at least a hundred times. And with each burn, Harry had simply rolled over in bed, written a quick note to Professor Dumbledore then rolled back over and went to sleep. It was a common occurrence. It was normal. Every day.

But this tingling had never happened before. No sensation other than the familiar burn of pain could he associate with his scar. Perhaps that was why it was so disconcerting. But even so, he knew that it shouldn't bother him as much as it was now.

Letting his hand drop back down to his side, Harry reached out for his glasses, opting for these over the contact lenses he had gotten the summer before. Sliding the wire black frames onto his nose, Harry indulged in a fully body stretch to try to clear his muddled mind of the shivery sensation that was threatening. It would do him no good to try to catalog this feeling away when so much of his life was stored in the 'haven't yet figured out' section of his mind.

"Time to get up, Hedwig" Harry mumbled, noticing for the first time that his snowy white owl was looking at him worriedly. A soft hoot was his only answer.

For a split second, Harry entertained the thought of crawling back beneath his flimsy albeit warm sheets and going back to sleep. But the thought passed as quickly as it came. Sleep was out of the question now.

Propelling himself in to motion, the boy scuttled about the room pulling out all the necessary items to freshen up as well as a fresh set of clothes. Popping his toothbrush into his mouth for safe keeping (the Dursley's never allowed Harry to keep his personal affects anywhere other than his room) he made his way over to Hedwig's cage and flipped the door open. Ruffling her feathers a bit, he then moved to the window and slide it open so that she could fly outside at her leisure.

This was one of the small allowances that made getting up early a treat. Despite the ever hanging threat from his uncle, Harry didn't have the heart to not allow his owl some freedom. So, on days like these when he awoke much earlier than the rest of the household, he would let her out of her cage to go do what she pleased.

Sighing, he secured the latch on the window, pressing a short wooden stick he had collected into the frame so that the window wouldn't suddenly slam itself shut. Which it had started to do more frequently now and Harry knew there was no hope of his uncle fixing it. The thought was laughable.

"Bugger." Harry muttered as he pinched his finger between the glass and the frame. Shaking his hand, he began to turn but before he had taken a step, a sight greeted him that he would never soon forget...

"Malfoy?!" Harry hissed incredulously, his toothbrush clattering out of his mouth to land with a tap onto the floor. For an instant, he stood looking in disbelief at the huddled figure below before throwing his change of clothes onto his unmade bed and spinning on his heels.

The tingling of his scar was pushed to the back of his mind as Harry all but fly out the door of his room, uncaring if his uncle, aunt or cousin awoke because of it.