Disclaimer: Everything is owned by J.K. Rowling.

This is the first fiction I've written in years. I'm certain that chapters will gradually improve as I write more. If, at some stage, you think I should come back and edit the earlier chapters again, please do let me know. I have already gone back twice and combed through the first few.

Otherwise, please enjoy.

Chapter 1 - Catalyst

A light, steady rain against the window drummed Harry back to the present moment as he tugged the thin sheets up to his chin in an attempt to escape the frigid temperature of his room. He was forced from the small comfort his bed offered him as a shout rang out from downstairs, jolting upright and hurriedly stuffing the book he had been studying inside his pillowcase.

Harry heard the stairs creak as they became burdened with great weight, the sound of flexing wood following. With any luck, maybe the stairs will finally give out this time. He gave a snort at the thought. A scraping of metal on wood from outside proved him wrong.

The door crashed open with a resounding bang, immediately followed by the great form of his uncle and a shout.

"Boy!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

"Those f-freaks of yours" he started, stumbling over the 'f' in his suppressed rage, "have arrived to cart you off. I'd best not see you again soon if you know what's good for you."

"Yes Sir" Harry replied as he scrambled towards his trunk, hurriedly stuffing a nearby pile of clothes in. One day I won't have to pack these filthy cast-offs anymore he thought, gritting his teeth.

He was met with silence as he heard a few heavy, purposeful thuds behind him and then a smack across the back of his head that left his ears ringing.

"You will face me when you reply to me, boy."

"Yes Sir."

His uncle scrutinised him closely with beady eyes, less than an arm's length away, then turned and lumbered out the door and down the stairs. Harry let out a breath, collapsing back onto the bed and closing his eyes in an attempt to dispel the familiar stinging sensation near the crown of his head.

He cursed himself for his lack of care. In his sudden realisation that he truly would be free early, he'd completely let down his guard. At the time he simply hadn't believed it.

His summer had been unusual, with his relatives harshly reminding him of his place in their house upon his arrival. He knew he'd be in for it after how he'd left them last summer. They however seemed to forget about him after a few weeks, opting instead to leave him confined to his room. Aunt Petunia certainly got her money's worth out of the cat flap again this summer he thought darkly. His stomach gave another rumble at the thought.

Harry sprung back to action as he remembered who was downstairs and hurriedly packed his remaining items, including whatever contraband he'd hidden to avoid more trouble. Surprisingly, his trunk and broom hadn't been locked away upon his arrival, and he'd managed to get them upstairs and under his bed before his uncle could say anything.

Whatever Arthur said to him was lost as he stumbled down the final few steps and rushed towards the ruined fireplace, taking care to not trip over the many wood fragments that now adorned the Dursley living room and not sparing a glance for his aunt, whom he knew would be looking at him as if she'd swallowed a lemon whole.

Harry lurched out of the fireplace, his trunk in one hand nearly being his undoing. He was steadied by a strong pair of hands that gripped his shoulders and was forced to stifle a flinch as he remembered where he was. Hope he didn't notice that…

An exclamation of "Harry, dear!" greeted him as Mrs. Weasley rounded the kitchen bench and wrapped him in her usual strong hug. He allowed himself to be led upstairs to Ron's room but not before noticing the curious gaze Arthur sent him on his way up.


Thoughts of the Quidditch World Cup swirled through his mind with fading clarity. The distant crackle of the radio within the Weasley's tent soothed him gradually deeper into unconsciousness, merging with the light patter of rain. It felt as if it wasn't a moment later that he was shaken awake. Arthur's words drifted into his sleep-addled mind.

"Quick Harry, we've got to leave, get some clothes on and come with Ron to the front of the tent."

Harry jumped up and changed out of his pyjamas as quickly as he could, remembering at the last moment to throw on a jacket to insulate himself from the frigid temperatures that were sure to greet him outside.

"Bloody hell, what's going on out there," Ron wondered out loud from beside him as the shouts and commotion began to drift closer.

"No clue mate, ask your dad."

They approached the rest of the Weasleys who were waiting beside the tent flap, Mrs. Weasley adjusting a flustered Ginny's dressing gown she must've thrown on.

"Good, there you are boys. We'd best be quick." Arthur led the group out of the tent, the noise immediately becoming close to deafening as Harry struggled to peer through the thick, orange haze that hung low to the ground between the tents.

They were immediately jostled as others began to rush past, away from the flashes of light a few rows down. Whatever was said next was lost to the cacophony of shouts and screams that seemed to envelop them. Harry opted to keep his head down, following behind the rest of the Weasleys.

He was suddenly shoved roughly aside as a panicked mother scrabbled past, shouting for her daughter as her husband attempted to keep up. Harry craned his neck in an attempt to see over the crowd, searching for wherever the Weasleys had gone in the chaos before being knocked down by a muted explosion from within a tent a few metres away.

Harry sat up in a daze, spitting out a mouthful of cool, earthy soil in an attempt to regain his focus. He grimaced as his back protested the movement, grabbing around for his glasses. His hands finally closed around the frame, and he managed to slide them back onto his face but not before noting the fissure that now decorated the right lens. Great, I couldn't hear before and now I can't see either.

He eyed a gap between the tents to his left and darted through the wreckage and frantic flow of Quidditch fans towards the tree line of the forest, the cacophonous noise fading as he reached it. Harry turned and started as he saw a bright green skull with a snake writhing through the mouth, its thin, ghostly tongue flickering as it appeared to stare right at him. Harry shivered and retreated further through the forest, nimbly stepping through the network of tree roots that crisscrossed the ground in front of him. I wonder where the Weasleys are, and if they know that I've lost them.

A flash of light erupted ahead of him, and Harry slowed, creeping towards the clearing from which it came whilst fingering his wand in his jacket pocket. A scream and secondary flash of light made his heart leap into action, thudding against his ribcage like a bass drum.

The rough bark of the tree he leaned around dug into his skin as he made out a figure slumped at the base of a tree opposite him, a low murmur of voices from within the darkness instantly setting him further on edge. His pulse throbbed in his temple.

Creeping through the darkness, he made out a head of silver hair at the base of the tree squirming against thick ropes that restrained them. He cracked a dry twig under his shoes and their head snapped up. Cursing his carelessness for the second time that week, he kept his eyes glued to the ground, keeping his ears peeled for any indication that the source of the voices had returned.

Once he'd come within a few metres he left the safety of the dark canopy and moved towards the figure. It was only when he'd stopped scanning the tree line and turned his head towards them did he notice the wide, fearful eyes that stared back, standing out starkly against her pale face in the moonlight. They were such a deep, reflective blue that he might've got lost in them had he not nearly stumbled over his own feet. This isn't helping me at all right now. He noticed her eyes dart up to his scar briefly.

He regained his composure and slowly put his finger to his lips, moving forward cautiously both for his and their benefit. You'd better not shout, otherwise I'd wager we'll both be done for. She gave a slow nod.

He cast a glance around once more, before moving to untie the sloppy knot on the other side of the tree. Best not use my wand, I've no idea if that cutting curse I read about over summer will be visible in the dark. To avoid any unpleasant letter-shaped surprises, he'd only traced the wand movements out with a quill.

As the rope slackened, the air seemed to grow heavy, and chills ran down Harry's spine. He stood and slowly leaned around the front of the tree, a sweet, rosy scent filling his nostrils as he scanned the darkness opposite him.

A rustle behind him caused him to jump, a flash of light passing just to the left of him so close it rustled his clothing in its wake. He spun around, wand in hand.

"Who's there?"

Harry squinted at the long shadows cast by the moon's unnaturally bright glow, tinged with the eldritch green of the skull that remained high in the night sky. In hindsight, that probably wasn't the greatest idea.

A movement near his feet nearly caused him to jump again, but he recognised it as the girl he'd freed scrabbling around in search of something, most likely her wand. The lapse in his concentration must've been apparent, however, as another spell sent him diving to the ground. He retaliated in the direction it had come from with everything he'd learnt since he'd arrived at his relatives those few long weeks ago yet didn't appear to hit anything.

Rising from his crouch slowly, he found the arm of the girl as he grabbed around blindly behind him and tugged at it, willing her to come with him.

As soon as she'd risen he darted off into the darkness with her in tow, hearing a multitude of swears and rustling fabric from where they'd been. Harry made it to the edge of the tree line with her, and tugged her down behind a bush, peering through the now-familiar orange haze at a largely deserted campground. Most people seemed to have left, yet a few remained sifting through the chaos. Are they the ones that caused this?

He turned to look at the girl again, staring straight into her unnervingly blue eyes as he tried his best to communicate with his hands for her to stay. She doesn't have a wand anyway, I'm not sure she'll be any help if they find us. She gave a fast shake of her head, eyes widening once more. He was about to respond when a spell whizzed straight past his ear.

Harry turned to face their follower, steeling himself. Just as he made out an indistinct shape in the gloom, he saw a jagged green light lance towards him out of the corner of his eye. Time seemed to slow as he realised how close it was to him, and that he wouldn't be able to move out of the way in time. Looks like all that practice with Dudley was for nothing he thought grimly, making a feeble attempt to retaliate but failing to raise his wand before it was upon him.

A terrible agony ripped through him as he felt himself enveloped in the green light, a strange weightlessness accompanying it. Right before the light seemed to dim underneath his eyelids, he thought he heard a shrill scream, and that same sweet, rosy scent overwhelmed his senses once again with a slightly acrid undertone.