Author's note: This is fanfic. Characters and settings and basic storyline all belong to JK Rowling, and I make no claims whatsoever on them. I'm just playing in Ms Rowling's playpen, moving her toys about a little. Don't take this too seriously.
However, if you take your time to read this, then please take the time to leave a little message saying whether you liked it or not.

A Dangerous Meeting
by Winter

Chapter 1:

A beautiful summer sun rose above the horizon, its rays just barely reaching the top floor windows on number four, Privet Drive. Birds raised their voices to greet the dawn, and slowly, ever so slowly, the neighbourhood started to come to life. Gone were the nightkin; the foxes, badgers and rats that scurried about, looking for something to eat. This was the time of men; newspaper boys rode their bikes up and down roads, garbage collectors emptied can after can; people, ordinary, normal people started to get up and go about their business. Even not so ordinary people were moving about. Harry Potter stirred in his sleep. there was something about early morning light that bothered him, stirred some memory of other lights. Memories from a lifetime away. There was a tap against the window as a tiny pebble hit it, but the noise wasn't enough to rouse the sleeping boy. Even when restless, Harry slept heavily these days. His last encounter with his arch-enemy, the now-resurrected Lord Voldemort, had left him drained, and not even two weeks of summer holiday had seen him recuperate fully. Another pebble hit the window, awakening Harry's snow owl, Hedwig, who chirped unhappily. Harry had begun to toss around in bed, lost in some nightmare, when the third stone hit the window, and he sat up, gasping. It took him a while to recover his wits, and realise that he was all safe in his own room. Well, as safe as this world ever got, these days, he thought as he fumbled for his glasses. When the fourth stone tapped against the window, Harry realised that he had indeed heard something upon awakening, and now he stepped out of bed, pausing only to slip out of his pyjamas and putting on a pair of briefs. Blinking against the sunlight, he opened the window, but couldn't spot whoever had been throwing the stones. Was his cousin Dudley acting up again? Scratching his head, Harry was just about to shut the window again, when another stone hit him on the cheek.

"Ouch!" he cried. "Who's there!?"

"A messenger." The voice which answered him was spookily dry, totally devoid of tone. Harry felt a shudder travel up his spine, making the hair in the back of his neck stand on edge. He knew what would come next. "A messenger from beyond the grave. Evil awaits you, Harry Potter. An evil doom."

Frustrated over his own reaction, Harry still couldn't help smiling. "Come out of those bushes, Ron. Nice voice effects."

"How did you know it was me?" A red-haired head appeared, its features split into a huge grin. His voice was still eerily dry. "Fred and George assured me this would fool anybody."

"'Evil awaits you, Harry Potter.'." Harry mocked. "'An evil doom.'. Nobody but you would think up such a corny line. What are you doing here, at this hour?"

"Trying to wake you up, sleepy-head! What does it look like. I succeeded, too!"

"Stop shouting, or you'll wake everybody up."

"They need the exercise. C'mon, Harry! Pack your bags!"

"We're going to the Burrow?" Harry raised his eyebrows. A visit with the Weasley family would surely put him back on track. "What do I bring!?"

"We're not going to the Burrow, Harry, we're going on a little vacation. Just you and me. Pack a week's worth of clothes, your wand and some sunblock. I've brought the rest."

"Where are we going?" Harry started to feel a bit jittery, knowing his friend's impulsiveness. "Are you sure this is all right?"

"It was mum's idea. I told her how poorly you sleep, and she thought..."

"Okay, I'll be right down. Just let me get dressed."

"Hurry up, we've got a ride to catch!"

Ten minutes later, Harry joined his friend in the Dursley's garden. He had packed a duffel bag with whatever he might need, and left his foster family a note. They wouldn't mind, he'd decided. They'd just be happy to have him out of their hair for a little while. He wouldn't mind, either; in fact, a holiday with Ron seemed like a terrific idea. The other boy was being secretive at the moment, however, merely grinning each time Harry asked where they were going. In the end, Harry gave up, and decided to tag along, hoping for if not the best, then at least some fun. But he began to worry when Ron dragged him through alleys and back streets he hadn't seen before. Did he really know his way? Hedwig flew above them in circles, seemingly happy to be out of her tiny cage, and Ron was clearly in a good mood, so Harry decided to put his fears behind him.

"Er, do you have a clock, Harry? You know, one of those that show you if it's day or night?"

"Of course. Why?"

"I don't know. I can't imagine anyone ever really needing one of those silly things. I mean, just look at the sun! Or the stars, if it's night. Why bother with a machine that tells the time for you? Dad loves 'em, though. He's got a dozen, at least, but he can't make them show the right time for his life."

"It's seven fifteen, Ron," Harry said, withholding a chuckle at the thought of Mr Weasley, his forearms loaded with watches. "Any minute now we should be hearing uncle Vernon's scream as he finds my empty bed. We can't be more than three or four miles from home."

"Good thing you sneak well, Harry." Ron sat down on a pile of discarded bricks, grinning widely. "We've got plenty of time. Our portkey isn't set until half eight. If we had any muggle money we could get a snack or something."

"Half eight is just a quarter of an hour away, Ron." Harry sat down, too. They were in a rather dirty-looking alleyway, between a couple of still-closed office buildings. "Can't you tell me where we're going?"

"All right," Ron said, observing his friend's nervous glances, "but only if you promise me you'll act surprised when we meet up with dad."

"I will, promise."

"All right. Have you ever heard of a place called San Fransisco? In a country called America?"

"Of course I have," Harry almost snapped. "Every kid has."

"Wow!" Ron nodded, clearly impressed. "Maybe muggle schools aren't so bad after all. Anyway, the ministry of magic in America is setting up a kind of wizard's resort there. A place to go for wizards and witches who have been working too hard and need to relax. It's not open yet, but dad's managed to make them let us stay in one of the finished buildings."

"How did he manage that?" Harry's eyes had gradually widened as Ron told him this. He couldn't believe he was actually going to California. "I mean, if it's not even opened yet..."

"Well, professor Dumbledore had a hand in that. Apparently, he's good friends with the headmaster of Firewand University of Magic."

"What's that?"

"Kind of like Hogwarts, only not as old and more muggle-like. I heard Dumbledore talk to dad about it, and he seemed to think it lacks Hogwarts's panache, whatever that means."

"I don't know."

"Me neither. What's the time?"

"Oh! Two minutes to go!" Harry leaped to his feet. "Hedwig!"

"Relax, Harry. The key will wait for us for at least ten minutes before it deactivates. No need to rush."

"Isn't Pig coming with you?"

"Are you kidding? I sent him with a letter to Hermione. Hopefully, he'll stay at the Burrow once he's delivered it. He's been so hyper since he left the owlery at Hogwarts, he's getting on my nerves."

As Hedwig swooped down to land gracefully on Harry's out-stretched arm, an empty Coca-Cola can lying next to one of the dull-looking brick walls began to glow slightly. To someone not knowing that there was something worth looking for in that alley, it might just as well have been a reflection of a sun-beam, but Harry and Ron nodded to each other, grinning. Motioning for Harry to grab his bag. They held each other's hands in a firm grip as Ron touched the portkey. At once, Harry's field of vision began to spin, and he just barely managed to keep on his feet as they landed in a total darkness. Images of the graveyard where he had met Lord Voldemort flooded Harry's mind, and he had to bite his lip in order to keep from screaming out loud. There was a trace of electricity in the chilly air, making it smell like... like blood... A hand landed on Harry's shoulder, and he spun around, his mind void with everything but the fear. Lashing out, he felt his fists make contact once, twice, then someone grabbed him from behind, holding him in a firm grip. This time he screamed, as his body gave in and he collapsed.

The evil, red eyes bore into his mind just like the high-pitched laughter cut its way to the very centre of his soul, tearing him to pieces. A green glow surrounded his body, emanating from the throbbing, lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Voldemort's claw-like fingers slowly, ever so slowly reached for his face, and he yelled out with fear and pain as sharp nails dug out his eyes, leaving him with only darkness and the memory-image of those horrible red eyes. The laughter ceased and the voice turned into a whisper.

"Avada Kedavra is too good for you, boy. Your death will become a legend."

Harry screamed again as waves of pain coursed through his body, so intense and ever-present he couldn't even work out what was happening to him. Then there was something new. A touch to his forehead that was both soothing and comforting, taking some of the pain away. Another voice made its presence known, a voice Harry knew but couldn't quite place at the moment.

"Harry!"

"Harry."

"Harry..."