Hello again everyone! I want to start by saying thank you to everyone who favorited, alerted, or reviewed these first two chapters. You really don't know how amazing I feel when I check my inbox, and see that you guys actually want more, it's exhilarating! I also want to take this moment to thank my new BETA, LadyofLilacs, both for being a fan and offering advice when I need it. But, enough of this crap, you came here for an update, right? Ok!

Note: Really, I don't own this. Isn't that obvious?

Note #2 : Review fill my soul with happiness. My soul is so empty, wouldn't you like to fill it?

~X~

~~~~~~~~Pavement Diaries~~~~~~~~

~X~

There's someone inside me that softly kills everyone around
They don't know they're dead to me cause intent never makes a sound

~X~

The morning of July 31st came faster than Harry had expected. Usually, this week would drag along, like any other summer week, but perhaps since he was actually excited this time, time didn't feel like making him wait any longer than need be. Harry sat up in his bed and took a moment to embrace the situation: he was seventeen, and he was about to celebrate his birthday for the first time in memory. True, he hadn't bothered telling anyone else, but Harry knew what today was. That was all that mattered. He didn't want his roommates, and more importantly, his friends, to feel like they needed to make a fuss over him.

The boy looked up and ran his fingers through his unruly black curls, laughing a bit to himself. He had slept later than he planned to; the fourth-floor room was already bathed in sunlight. Despite being the smallest bedroom in the flat, it was ridiculously big. He thought keeping the furniture simple would diminish the size a bit, but somehow it only made the space look larger. Harry climbed out of bed, stretched for a moment, and began fumbling across the nightstand for his glasses. After a few moments of what would have been hilarious to any onlooker, he found them. Vision restored, the alarm clock by the bed was clear as day. It was 10:32, definitely later than he was planning on sleeping. Harry managed a grin that was somehow both cheeky and embarrassed before deciding to get dressed.

Yes, it was almost noon, but it was Saturday. Harry doubted anyone else would be up, especially not when he considered how late the trio had been up last night. Nikolai had been up late every night for the last two weeks, trying to finish a sculpture for school. From what Harry could tell, Nikolai hated art school. The Russian student was a brilliant artist, and had made some of the coolest abstract sculptures Harry had ever seen, but Nikolai was an artist because it was what he wanted. And he hated having to sculpt whatever the school told him too. So, instead of working on his abstract series inspired by the seven deadly sins, he was stuck doing a three-dimensional study on human anatomy. He had been up well past midnight every night now, and Harry suspected last night had been no different. As for Alex, he and Harry had stayed up playing Final Fantasy well past sunset. It was more Alex's hobby than Harry's, really, and Harry actually found the game to be pretty pointless and stupid, but after a few drinks, anything was funny.

Having finally fished out a clean pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt, Harry left his room and headed down the hallway to the kitchen. His scar stung a little, but instead of the usual pain or anger, it left him with a feeling of excitement and anticipation, a welcome change.

Something was off, Harry noticed; the hallway was unnaturally silent. If Alex were still asleep, like Harry suspected, then he should be snoring like a buzz-saw from behind the door to Harry's left. But the room was completely silent. This wouldn't have bothered Harry usually, except that the rest of the flat was silent as well. Nikolai was a pretty quiet guy, usually sculpting or reading a book, but he was almost always blasting techno music and Alex was always trying to crack a joke. If the two were up, everyone on the floor would know. Harry leaned forward to check the rest of the hall; it was eerily still. He slid a foot across the floor, and nudged the door to Alex's room open. The lights were off, but there was enough external light available to make it clear that the room was empty. At least the bed was a mess; that much was normal.

Harry's heart was pounding against his ribcage. Sure, Alex was a bit of a skirt chaser, and yes, Nikolai could be a bit arrogant at times, but neither of them, at least to Harry's knowledge, had ever done anything that would lead someone to break in and hurt them. Harry's mind wandered back to all the people he had stolen from or fought with over the last few years. If someone had broken in, it was his fault.

Alex and Nikolai are in trouble, he kept repeating over and over in his head. Harry used that mantra to clear any fear from his system, and went back to his original goal: to head to the kitchen. If he was going to find a weapon, it would be in there. As silently as possible, he placed one foot before the other, and again, and again. His heart was still pounding, dreading what he might find in there. Suddenly, Harry froze; there was sound coming from the oncoming room. First, a chair being pushed, and then footsteps. From what Harry could make out, there were two people. Green eyes wide with panic, he kept going, his back against the wall. Only a few more steps. His pulse was banging in his ears now. He needed a plan, a plan. Two steps left. Nothing had come to mind, so he decided to make this up as he went. Slowly, Harry turned towards the doorway, mentally preparing himself to enter the room. He took a deep breath, and the final step.

"Surprise!"

The boy was stopped in the doorway in shock. Instead of being greeted by a couple of thugs, or the corpses of his roommates, he was greeted with a neon-green party favor buzzing in his face and a handful of confetti. Alex and Nikolai were standing in front of him, waiting for a reaction. Harry blinked a few times, and then started laughing.

"Hah, you guys! God, you nearly gave me a heart attack there! Ha-wait, heh, how did you even know it was today?" Harry managed between breaths. Nikolai smirked and pushed his blonde shoulder length curls behind his ear.

"Vat do you zink? Your boss told Alex, and he of course told me. Really, ve've been waiting all veek for you to say somezing," he replied, slipping into his thick Russian accent. Harry was still confused.

"What? But, how did he know? I didn't tell him either..." Alex laughed

"You had to put your birthday on the job application, remember mate? Really, you can be thick sometimes, heh. But, moving past your thick-headedness, we have a big day planned!" He stalked over and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder, dragging him over to a memo board pinned to the refrigerator, reading 'Whoopdie-Friggin-Doo It's Your Birthday - Plans', followed by a numbered list if things to do that day. Harry chuckled. Alex began pointing at the list excitedly.

"Alright then! So, first is pig out on doughnuts. It's almost noon, but Nikolai and I already bought them, so we stick to the list! After that, we head on out of here, and-" Alex didn't notice as Harry stopped listening. He was grinning from ear to ear, looking back and forth between Alex and Nikolai. Just the thought that they would plan the whole day out was incredible to him. Whatever they had planned specifically, he didn't care. It was the fact that they were celebrating together that mattered.

All in all, Harry just knew today would be brilliant.

~X~

Somehow, the man just knew today would be hell.

Despite the advice given by his superiors, and his numerous attempts at "normalcy" (as if any of this could be considered normal), the aristocrat still stood out drastically from the filth that surrounded him. The crowd around the man was made up of tourists in obnoxious tee-shirts, slacker teenagers, clueless parents letting their children practically run in the street, and several couples who obviously had never heard of getting a room. He felt nauseous, though whether that was from his surroundings, or his nerves, he couldn't tell. The man turned up his nose and continued towards his destination, a certain red phone booth.

He was dressed in a three-piece suit, all black naturally, with a silver clip holding back his long, partly-silver partly-blond hair. What little wasn't pulled back framed his sharp, aristocratic features with perfection. He felt practically naked without a traveling cloak on, but, it was all for the sake of blending in with the muggles. It was disgusting, having to lower himself to their level. Why should he? He was part of the higher power, was he not? It was already insult enough that he had to use the visitor entrance to the Ministry today, but he also had to dress as a muggle? Not likely; this was as close as the man would ever go. He didn't understand why he needed to be at the ministry today, the situation clearly was under control. But no, his first day off in months, and he had to spend it in the Ministry of Magic, working on another mission.

The tall aristocrat reached the phone booth and sneered. It was thoroughly disgusting; the tile floor was filthy, the phone and glass were covered in fingerprints, and there was even gum stuck to the bottom of the dial box. Gum, really.

"Muggles, how utterly delightful," the man muttered under his breath, every word dripping with sarcasm. He dialed the slightly unfamiliar five-number code, trying not to think about the filth that had handled the phone before him. He couldn't even bring himself to place the device against his ear, lest it might infect him with whatever muggles were carrying these days, and chose to hold the phone a good three inches from his ear. Before he had time to shudder, or vomit, he wasn't sure which, a pleasant female voice came from the phone.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Lucius Malfoy, visitor, meeting a comrade at the Department of Mysteries." Comrade was the best word the Malfoy head could think of to describe his accomplice, since they only shared a mild tolerance for each other. There was a faint "chinking" sound in the booth, as a metal name badge was dispensed from the dial box. It read,

Lucius Malfoy, Visitor, D.o.M. Clearance

At least the machine could do its job; one thing had gone right that day. The red booth began shaking as the streets of London came to level with Lucius's eyes, before vanishing completely.

"Thank you, Visitor. Please place your name badge where it is clearly visible, and have a pleasant day."

The booth stopped, revealing a large, sky-lit atrium. The tile in the atrium was all black, reflecting the green flames that appeared every now and again from the line of Floo tunnels running long the walls. Paper planes flew of their own accord through the air, darting back and forth across the massive golden "M" in the center of the room and casting narrow shadows across the floor, and the atrium was filled with witches and wizards, running back and forth to deliver papers, check people in, and Merlin only knew what else. Lucius couldn't bring himself to care. The crowds around him may have been insects, or at least invisible; the only thing that mattered was getting to the Department of Mysteries. Of course he knew the way; he had spent months studying its layout a few years ago. But the mission he was on now couldn't be more different than two years ago, he hadn't even been sent then.

Lucius sneered again, this time to himself. That should have been a simple mission: break into the Department, find the prophecy room, get the prophecy on row 37, and leave. Lucius knew he could have done it without any problems, but no. His Lordship had chosen to send Lucius's sister-in-law, accompanied by that blasted snake. And what had happened? Yes, Bellatrix had obtained the prophecy, and even killed a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a Weasley, he had been delighted to learn. But then, she left with so little care that she ran face first into a group of Aurors! Yes, she got away, but she dropped her bag in the struggle, and when she returned to give their lord the orb, it was nothing more than dust. The only positive was that the Order believed them to be successful in their venture, believed that the Dark Lord knew the contents in full detail.

While distracted by his thoughts, Lucius had already reached the Department in question. He turned past the empty hallway that Arthur Weasley had died in, feeling probably more pleased than he should have, and approached the door to the Trace Office. This was where he would meet his accomplice of the day, Augustus Rookwood. How the man managed to be in the Dark Lord's inner circle and still maintain a position as a spy with the Unspeakables was beyond Lucius, but he supposed it was no different than being an inner circle Death Eater and also a business man, Wizengamot member, and chairman on the Hogwarts Board of Governers. Lucius cleared his mind, now was not the time to think about his own problems. He had a job to accomplish, or everyone he held dear would die.

The door to the Trace Office was probably the least conspicuous of the department. It was a simple, solid oak door with a brass handle and a matching brass plaque set at eye level that read "Office of Trace Monitoring." It was the most well-known development of the Department of Mysteries, so unlike the prophecy hall or the death chamber, there was no need to even try and conceal it. The Trace Office was where most Unspeakables began training, so Lucius was concerned when Rookwood, one of the most experienced here, asked to be transferred here, on their Lord's orders of course. Fortunately, the head of the department had let him move without so much as a second thought.

Lucius took a deep breath and a moment to check his composure before opening the door. As he expected Rookwood was already there, watching the map intently. He didn't look up or show any other signs of noticing the Malfoy's appearance. Lucius was startled when the fellow Death Eater cleared his throat.

"You're late. I expected you twenty minutes ago."

"Yes, well I'm not accustomed to taking the visitors entrance. I can assure you, I never plan on taking it again."

"Why not use the Floo Network?"

"It's easier to trace, and you heard the Dark Lord's orders. No one outside our circle can know about this."

Rookwood looked at him snidely.

"So you took a name badge?"

"You know as well as I do they never check the registry!"

Rookwood snorted, but accepted that it was the best answer he would get out of the aristocrat. Lucius walked around Augustus's seat and took his own. Before them on the wall was a map of Britain, spanning at least fifteen feet across. Most of the map was gray, but parts of it were glowing a soft blue, the blue representing magical communities across the country. The rest of the room was covered in more maps, each one showing a more detailed portion of Britain. Dancing across each map, light fireflies, were little white dots; on the large map, they were non-existent, but on the detailed ones, each dot represented an underage witch or wizard, wherever they may be. At least, it represented them so long as they had the Trace. Usually the office was used to monitor underage wizards; if one of them performed magic outside of Hogwarts, their dot would glow red, and an owl would be sent. On midnight the day they came of age, their dot would flare for a moment, before vanishing completely. No one had any idea if anything would appear in the absence of the trace. At least, they hadn't until almost two months ago.

"Have you spotted anything yet?" Lucius barely managed. Rookwood remained focused on the map in front of him.

"We shouldn't expect it to show up for about another hour. All I've done is eliminate a few maps."

The two fell back into silence. Not another word would be spoken until either of them saw something. There were still dozens of maps to watch, and Lucius couldn't afford to miss this. He was watching for the most insignificant of phenomena; a soft, almost invisible dot, somewhere in the country, that would tell them the exact location of one Harry James Potter. They expected it to appear at 1:47, assuming their copy of the birth certificate was accurate. But they still had no idea where it would appear, and it would only show up for a moment. Lucius shuddered as he remembered how they figured this out. Draco had been the Dark Lord's control set.

Perhaps Draco had been picked out of convenience, perhaps he was picked as a warning to Lucius, but most likely, Draco had probably been selected as a punishment for failing to kill Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Lucius never blamed Draco for running, he was only a child! He never wanted his only son to become a killer, much less a Death Eater! But nothing could be done about that now, and when their Lord was angry, someone always was punished.

Draco had run away from Hogwarts a month before he was due to finish his sixth year. Lucius was still haunted by the way his son's face had appeared, sleepless and terrified, still damp from crying. He had been hysterical; he knew he had failed, and didn't know why he returned. Lucius could only thank all his gods that Draco wasn't killed upon returning, but perhaps what faced him instead was worse.

When the Dark Lord had learned that Draco was back, and he had learned quickly, he decided that the best he could do was both destroy Draco and make use of him one last time. The Dark Lord had forcibly removed the Trace from Draco - how he did, Lucius didn't know. He hadn't been allowed in the room at the time, but that didn't stop him from hearing his son's screams from the other end of Malfoy Manor. He had no doubt that the Dark Lord could remove Traces with minimal effort and in a matter of seconds, but he seemed to revel in making the process hurt as much as possible. Lucius could only imagine what the boy went through; his son still wouldn't speak to anyone, and could only barely make eye contact with Lucius and Narcissa. He spent most of his time these days locked in his room, only visited by his parents and a few house elves, staring out the window.

About a month later, Draco's birthday had passed. He turned seventeen on June fifth, precisely at 3:14 in the afternoon. Rookwood had been previously informed to watch the maps in the Trace Office, and keep an eye on Malfoy Manor. Just as the Dark Lord had suspected, there was a ping on the map, showing Draco for barely a second before vanishing completely. The same surely would happen with Potter, and they would have his exact location. If not, they would always have the large map to get an approximation. If they didn't see it there, Rookwood and Lucius were as good as dead.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Rookwood would probably be subjected to the Cruciatus curse for some time, but he would ultimately live. Lucius knew he had all but almost completely spent his usefulness. He only remained in the Dark Lord's inner circle because he knew too much, and he was only still alive because of his political position. Rookwood could easily handle this mission on his own. Lucius was only here to be supervised.

The hour ticked by, each second seeming slower than the last. Lucius didn't know how much time had passed and didn't dare look at his pocket watch for fear that he would miss it. Instinct told him that it was almost 1:16, the exact time Potter had been born, seventeen years ago. That was good enough for the Malfoy.

The air grew thick with anticipation. Rookwood watched the large map in anticipation, ready to shout whatever section of Britain he would appear in, so Lucius could find the detailed section, and in turn, Potter. The Malfoy's heart was racing, he would literally have less than a second to pinpoint the boy. He took a deep breath. The world seemed to still, everything became deathly silent. Everything but the ticking in his mind.

"Southeast Britain, London!" Rookwood cried suddenly. Lucius bolted up, the map of London a few feet to his left. He only saw it for a split second, he wasn't even sure he had seen it. But, if there was a time to risk it, it was now or never. Still, the Malfoy head couldn't help but hesitate. He pointed where he believed to have seen the dot on the map.

"Right... right here."

~X~

The adrenaline was coursing through his system. All of his senses seemed to be heightened at that moment, for he noticed everything; the sun beating down from above, the sweat, dripping from his brow and running down the side of his glasses, the eerie silence, and how it was disrupted as a bee sipped by, but most importantly, the sound of footsteps against the grass. One step, two, then a kick. The black and white ball was sent hurling through the air by Nikolai's left foot, and Harry was off. Before Alex could react, Harry had control of the ball. He darted right, then left, then right again, keeping the ball between his legs, and moved past Alex. The next obstacle was Nikolai, who tried to kick the ball towards the other end of the field. He almost succeeded in knocking Harry over, but Harry was faster. That had always been his advantage in this game; Alex was the most tenacious, Nikolai was the most focused, but Harry always had speed on his side. He has passed Nikolai, and was about to score, his foot coming closer to the ball by the millisecond.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Alex ran up behind Harry, and just before Harry could make contact with the ball, Alex took possession. Harry could only watch as he fell to the ground, and Alex scored, again.

"Whoo! Yeah mates, that makes seven goals for me, I win!" Alex cheered, somewhat breathlessly as he went into what could only be described as an end-zone dance. Harry laughed, and got back to his feet. Nikolai had just jogged over, laughing breathlessly as well.

"Yes yes, you von, again. Now do you have to do zat? Really, zere are children around." There actually wasn't anyone around, save for themselves. Both the field and the adjacent streets were uncharacteristically empty, but none of them paid it any heed.

Soccer was an interesting game to play with three players, but they found a way to make it work. Instead of playing as two teams, they played as three individuals, with one goal. There were no goalies, no set positions, just three guys running around kicking a ball, and trying to stop each other from scoring. Usually, they would play to ten goals, but they decided to change the game parameters today, since it was Harry's seventeenth birthday.

Harry looked at his watch; it was two-twenty six. The trio had only been out for a few hours, but today had already been one of the best days of Harry's life. So far, they had wandered around downtown London, visited about a half dozen tourist sites, from Big Ben to the London Eye, stopped at a nearby pub to listen to some local bands, and played a wicked game of soccer. He wasn't sure today could get any better, and perhaps that bothered a part of him. If today couldn't get any better, then it could only get worse. But, before the thought could take root, Harry crushed it with a memory of the look on Nikolai's face from the top of the London Eye. It was hilarious, but really, how were they supposed to know he was terrified of heights?

Alex and Nikolai were bickering, trying to decide what to do next. Harry wasn't paying that much attention, but it sounded like a battle between going back to the pub to pick up girls, or heading back to the flat for a shower. Really, Nikolai worried too much about his hair; how he managed to get a girlfriend, Harry would never understand. But the argument between Alex and Nikolai didn't seem important anymore. Harry's attention was drawn towards the figure across the street, the one sitting outside the bookstore.

Harry knew the street had been completely empty just moments ago. The shop in question was lined perfectly between his roommates, and Harry's gaze hadn't changed directions once. He would have noticed someone walk up, take a seat, and open a newspaper. Everything felt very unnatural about his presence, from his sudden appearance to the eerie sense of still he brought to the street. The sudden urge overcame Harry to see who the stranger was, and perhaps gain some insight to the strangeness of the situation. It was a horrible idea, every nerve in Harry's body was telling him not to, but that was the problem with being Harry; once an idea had latched down in his mind, it wouldn't let up until it was satisfied.

"Hey, why don't you guys just head back to the flat? We can figure it out from there, I'll catch up with you in a jiff," Harry said, interrupting their argument. The two snapped out of their little world and looked at him.

"Are you sure about that mate? If you need to take care of something, we can help." Alex suggested. Harry shook his head.

"It's nothing, I just...I have to do this on my own, sorry." He tilted his head a bit to the side, trying to convince them that leaving him along was no big deal. Nikolai spoke first.

"Alright, ve'll meet you back at ze flat. Promise to tell us vat you vere doing later, 'kay?" Harry nodded.

"I'll be fine guys, nothing to worry about."

Alex didn't look convinced, but he went along with it. He and Nikolai began their walk back to the bus stop.

Harry waited until they were out of sight before approaching the stranger. His anxiety didn't make sense, nor did the rapidity of his breathing. But something just felt wrong, like this man wasn't supposed to be there. If only he would lower his newspaper, maybe Harry could catch a glimpse of his face.

He took another step closer, now crossing the threshold into the street. His heart beat faster, another step. The scenario reminded him remarkably of his panic that morning, but this time, Harry thought it felt more real. The man cleared his throat and Harry stopped. The newspaper before the strangers face was folded in half, then halved again, and set in his lap.

Harry stared frozen at the man in a blend of shock and fear, eyes wide with panic. He knew exactly who this was, but, it didn't make any sense. He couldn't be dreaming now, could he? This felt too real to be a dream, but then again, they always did. Harry's green eyes were locked on the steel gray of the man on the bench, watching him with an unreadable expression. His heart beat faster and faster, Harry tried to calm his breathing, and prepared to run. None of this made any sense.

Malfoy was supposed to be a figment of his imagination.

~X~

Lucius knew that today, he was incredible lucky. The spot on the map he'd pointed to, he suspected, had been right. But the street they'd Apparated to was so crowded, there was no way of distinguishing anyone from anyone. So he and Rookwood split up to search this street and those surrounding it. Lucius knew it was incredible luck that he had found the boy, and had done so in little over an hour. He had found Potter playing that idiotic muggle sport with the black and white ball.

Potter was, to say the least, not what he had expected. When people talked about the Boy Who Lived, there was a certain appearance they had in mind: he was supposed to be tall and muscular, with sharp, powerful features and a scar that only added to his intimidation. Instead, he was thin and wiry framed, standing at maybe five-foot-four, and his scar, though apparent from even here, seemed awkwardly out of place on his delicate features. He seemed so fragile; Lucius wanted nothing more than to strike out and attack the boy now. But he couldn't risk alerting the Ministry there was anyone here be doing magic in front of muggles. There wasn't much he could do but wait for an opening.

Then the boy had practically done the job for him, and sent the muggles away. He should have known this was too easy, that something would go wrong, but the anticipation was too great. Lucius slid his wand from its holster on his forearm as discreetly as possible and folded the paper in quarters. The boy should have been at the field still, but he was standing maybe ten feet away from him. Lucius hadn't even heard him move, much less come that close! Were he not a dignified aristocrat, his face may have revealed how startled he was. His eyes locked with the green ones of his prey, when the most startling thought of all hit him. Had Potter gone to Hogwarts, he clearly would have been a Gryffindor, for he was completely incapable of hiding his thoughts; the reason for his fear was all to evident from the look on his face.

The boy knew who Lucius was.

Lucius kept his eyes locked on the boy, who was beginning to shake slightly. He pulled his arm back, preparing to stun Potter before he could do anything.

Then the boy had the nerve to run.

~X~

Even though the air was silent, Harry ran as if a shotgun had just gone off. The shoppes, trees, and street signs all blurred together in his vision. All he was focused on was putting one foot before the other, and not running out of pavement. The pounding in his chest had yet to subside, and he very much doubted it would. Harry risked a glance back, only to find what he feared. Malfoy was running after him, and though he was lagging behind, the blond was keeping good time. The last thing Harry saw before looking forward was Malfoy raising his arm, his weaponized stick in hand.

I'm going to die, was the only thought racing through his head. He had seen too many people fall at the ends of those in his dreams, and if there was even the slightest chance they were real, he wanted to be as far away from them as possible. Harry couldn't remember running this fast since he had first ran away. But it wasn't fast enough; he picked up the pace, just in time for a red stream of light to whizz past his head. Harry didn't have time to feel fortunate that it had missed; he needed to prepare to dodge the next one.

~X~

Lucius silently cursed himself for missing. Usually he had no difficulty hitting moving targets, especially not when he was trying to stun them. But usually his targets weren't moving this fast! It's no wonder the boy was never found, Lucius couldn't help but think. He could have kept this chase up on his own, but Lucius was a politician, not an athlete. He was running out of breath, and he knew it. The aristocrat couldn't afford to stop, but he needed to call for backup. In mid-run, he clenched his wand in his teeth, thinking for a moment how his mother would have scolded him for the action, and pulled the left sleeve of his robe up, exposing the snake-entwined skull on his forearm to the sun.

Before calling, he looked up to see if Potter was showing any signs of giving up. Such was not the case; if anything, he seemed to be running faster, and was turning a corner as Lucius was looking.

"Gheh, Merlin be damned." he swore under his breath. As Lucius rounded the same corner, he placed the tip of his wand against the Dark Mark. Almost immediately, it began to burn, excruciatingly so, but he couldn't stop for anything. The Malfoy focused on the connection between his mark and the others, his wand never moving from his forearm, and sought out the connection to Augustus Rookwood. It took a moment, but he was the closest Death Eater in the physical area, so it wasn't terribly difficult. Lucius knew at this moment, Rookwood would be experiencing the same mind-numbing burning in his left arm that Lucius was, and he would know what to do. The aristocrat broke the connection, removing his wand and preparing to cast another stunner. He knew Rookwood would know what to do.

~X~

If Harry were particularly spiritual, he would have prayed at that moment that none of these alleys ended in dead ends. Why he chose to duck into an alley, he didn't know. Wait, scratch that, he did know; he didn't think, the alley was simply the first place he saw to hide. Harry could still hear Malfoy tailing him, but he was further behind now. Maybe he would get away, and then he could pretend none of this had happened, and Malfoy could go back to being imaginary.

It was only now that Harry let himself wonder what he was doing here. From what he has witnessed, Malfoy was a skilled "dueler," a general of sorts, and a political force to be reckoned with. If he were real, which he was, what would he want with an awkward seventeen year old with a bad habit of lighting things on fire when scared?

"Stupefy!" He heard the man shout behind him. Harry leapt to the side, putting a few feet and a couple cardboard boxes between himself and the spell. He managed to get back on his feet in good time, but Malfoy had made a significant dent in the gap between them. He rounded another corner, preparing to run like all hell, but froze instead -

There was another at the end of this alley, and his weapon was pointed right at Harry.

Harry couldn't remember this one's name, but he had seen his face plenty of times. From what he could recall, the man was a sort of spy. Harry took a few steps back, and turned to run the other way, but then Malfoy arrived blocking the other end of the alley. Harry looked back and forth between the two men; he was cornered, trapped, there was no way around it.

His heart had been pounding throughout the entire chase, but now, it was beating so hard it hurt. Harry felt as if his heart knew it could stop at any second, and it wanted to make every last pump of blood count. The world seemed to move in slow motion; everything became silent in his mind. Before Harry recognized what was happening, an overwhelming heat seemed to overtake him from the inside out. It took every bit of willpower he had not to cry out, though he felt as though his insides were on fire. The sides of the alley began to smoke, beginning as just a faint mist, but growing to a dark vapor.

Then a red beam of light entered his field of vision, hitting him from the left, and Harry fell.

~X~

Lucius watched the scene before him unfold in bewilderment. The sides of the alley had almost seemed to be smoking, but as soon as Rookwood hit Potter with the stunner, the smoke had stopped. The boy must have been the source, he concluded, but how had he done it? Wandless and instinctual magic were fairly unusual to cast after age thirteen or so.

Lucius would have thought more on this, but he and Rookwood had to act. The boy was stunned, and as such wouldn't be trying that again, but he was still conscious and aware of everything going on. The spell would only last for a few minutes; they needed to leave now. Lucius rushed forward to grab the boy before Rookwood could. He sneered at the fellow Death Eater.

"You may have stunned him, but I found him. I will be delivering him to the Dark Lord." Before Rookwood could protest, Lucius Apparated, taking extra precaution not to Splinch their prey. This was, in all honesty, Lucius's last ditch effort to regain some favor in the Dark Lord's eyes. For him, for his family. Perhaps, he rationalized, if he brought Potter to the man, Draco's failure might be forgiven. But Lucius was not a delusional man. He knew this to be a highly irrational thought.

Apparation was a sensation Lucius had never gotten used to. The feeling of being pushed through a tube, suffocating, only to pop out in a manner that made it near impossible to maintain composure - it made him feel powerless. A small part of him hoped the boy with him was coping alright.

He also hoped his Lord was merciful enough to give the boy a quick death.

~X~

Harry's head was spinning at a million miles an hour. He wasn't dead - yet, he told himself - but he couldn't move. Was he paralyzed? If he was, shouldn't he at least be able to move his neck? The blond assailant stalked over and said something to the other. Harry couldn't make it out, his ears were ringing. The next thing he was really aware of was a horrid sort of pressure, the best way he could think of to describe it was like being constricted by a massive python. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he felt like he couldn't breathe.

Harry wasn't afraid of dying. He'd thought about it enough times over the years that it didn't bother him anymore. Everyone died, and nobody really knew what happened next; it was a simple fact. Harry liked to believe that dying would somehow bring his family back together. So even though he was terrified, this somehow wasn't so bad.

As soon as the thought passed his mind, the sensation ended. There was a loud crack, and he fell to the ground, head throbbing. Harry winced, and raised an arm to his forehead. It took him a moment to realize he could move again. Malfoy was pacing back and forth across the room, but that was all Harry could make out. The rest of his surroundings were too dark, and his eyes were still adjusting.

The boy blinked a few times. Suddenly he realized that they weren't in an alley in London anymore. Harry looked back and forth, and concluded that he had no idea where they were. His scar was burning a bit, but Harry assumed that was from the fall. Before panic could set in, he started taking deep breaths. Hyperventilating in a dark mysterious room and passing out did not seem like the best of plans. Harry considered asking where they were; it couldn't hurt, right? But before the words could form themselves, he cried out in pain and doubled over.

His scar felt like it was tearing him in half.

~X~

Lucius Malfoy was pacing the room nervously. He had only apparated here a few times before; no one was permitted to enter unless their business was urgent. Usually, Malfoy Manor was used as a stronghold for Death Eater activities, but when secrecy was needed more so than usual, they would use the Dark Lord's personal fortress, the ancestral home of Salzaar Slytherin.

Lucius had gone directly to the dungeons. He knew the wards would inform the Dark Lord that he was here, so all he could do was wait. He was confident that all had gone well, but Lucius feared for what would happen to him if anything was out of place. The boy was moving a bit now; he clearly wasn't injured. Lucius went back to pacing, knowing his Lord would be here quite literally at any moment now.

Behind him he heard an intake of breath, and a short cry of pain. Lucius spun on his heel to face the source: the Potter boy was curled on the floor, clenching in apparent pain and crying out again every few seconds. Lucius rushed over; if anything had gone wrong, if the boy was injured, if the boy died before the Dark Lord could get his hands on him, Lucius knew he would be blamed. His hands began shaking in panic, but before he could check anything, the gate to the dungeons opened.

Lord Voldmort had arrived.

~X~

Harry couldn't remember his scar ever hurting this bad before. It felt like someone had taken a scalpel to his forehead, cut along the lightning bolt shape, and was digging their hands into his flesh, tearing the skin and tissue apart. He was trying not to scream, but, damn, it hurt! His eyes fluttered open for a moment as the flaring burned hotter. His heart just about stopped.

That opening in the wall hadn't been there a moment ago, and neither had the figure in the doorway. The man was terrifying and imposing, standing over six feet tall, clad in black robes that billowed out behind him, even as he was still. His skin was bone white, with shadows of milky jade along the edges. His complexion, paired with his bare scalp, only served to accentuate the deep crimson of his eyes. Even the flat expanse of face where a nose should have been seemed to direct attention to the red slits. Harry should have thought of this sooner. If Malfoy were real, it only made sense that everyone else was too, right?

The pain in Harry's forehead continued to increase as he walked into the room. Harry's vision was blurring, the edges fading into darkness. The next thing he knew, the ground was rushing towards him.

Then, everything was black.

~X~

Sorry this update took so long, I've been at work a lot lately. The next chapter will probably also be about two weeks, but I promise, it'll be worth waiting for!

Note: YES, there was a Final Fantasy game out in 1997, FFVI. Just saying, I did my research. Also, the legal drinking age in Britain is 18, so yes, Harry's underage, but whatever. At least, it is today, I don't know about '97.

hehe, at the beginning, Harry has a bit of a problem with jumping to conclusions. I sort of love that aspect about him, even if it killed Sirius...

And I apologize for the fail on typing the Russian accent. I know what it's supposed to sound like, but not how to write it.

Reviews are Love!

I'm creating a playlist for this story. Every chapter, I add a new song. Hopefully, in the end it will be something of a soundtrack for this story. Please feel free to check it out.

/playlist?list=PL9Zpu4O0bQ5apn6R6vZgIl8Wzl9KQxnED