Sry this one is going to be really short. The muse told me it was a good place to end the chapter and who's to deny the muse? I'll make it up with the next chapter. Please review!

It had barely been five minutes since the Weasly's had returned home before Ginny ran upstairs to her room with her luggage and the sound of the door shutting followed her. Ginny flopped boneless onto her bed and breathed deeply into her down black and pink snitch covered pillow. Turning over with a huge smile on her face, she began to giggle hysterically. What a year! Finally completely over brood boy, she had found a new world of boys perfectly capable of drooling over her ample body. They weren't much good for anything else though. Well, they were all great to babble on endlessly to and maybe to …wait no, no they weren't. She sighed, looking at her ceiling, eyes following the enchanted butterflies, which were painted there. Yes the year had been fun, BUT would it had been better if there were more people to have intelligent conversation with?

After Fred and George had left, Ginny felt undeniably lonesome. Ah well, what's a little loneliness to fighting deatheaters, hot guys who cherished her, the Quidditch cup and the look on Harry's face with her reminder that he was not the only one who had suffered. Another sigh.

"Damnit, I'm starting to brood," Ginny said quietly to herself. Sitting up on her bed, she rolled her shoulders before getting up and starting out her door. Running down the stairs by twos, she dodged her brothers, avoiding all questions and yelling behind her, "I'm out for a walk!"

The steamy summer air felt heavy with pending rain. The sun flashed through the clouds making obscure patterns upon the hill. Ginny looked toward the woods a few hundred feet away and sprinted toward them in hopes that she would be in the refuge of their shadows by the time her mother came out. By the time she reached the forest, the bellowing voice of her mother shuddered the trees.

"Virginia Weasly! Get back here now, there are chores to be done!"

Wincing, Ginny ran faster into the wood to find her usual spot. About a quarter of a mile in she stopped for breath and looked ahead of her trail. The sun was filtering more clearly through the less thickly packed trees a few yards ahead of her. She sighed and leisurely strolled the rest of her way through the brush. Her eyes watered, and she blinked many times before they got used to the sun. Even though the sky was turning a dull gray the water in the air made it seem bright. The enormous oak sat alone, its roots intertwining down the edge of the steep hill, bearing bronzed for the world to see. This tree had always fascinated Ginny, how after so many years it was still able to hold its precarious spot. Plopping down on her spot between two roots, she leaned back and gazed at the village in the distance.

In the reflection of the blood red eyes were the faces of horrified wizards defensively holding their shaking wands. The pupils of the eyes turned to slits. The view widened around Ginny, and she could see the front of horrific, winged, humanoid creatures and behind them a brigade of deatheaters. Terrified, she looked behind her to see the newly fixed fountain in the front of the doors to the ministry of magic, wizards standing shocked around it. It seemed everything was frozen before her, not unlike the calm before a storm.

"Ginny." Snapping around, she looked to where Voldemort was at the back of the army. In his place was a tall boy with meticulously perfected raven black hair and flashing derisive green eyes.

"Tom?" Ginny barely whispered. He smiled cynically. The air around him shimmered in the shape of one of the winged creatures. The creature opened his mouth and screamed.

Ginny took great gulps of air as if trying to fill her lungs with the reality around her. Frantically she looked up as if expecting to see the combatants around her. Instead she saw the heavy sheets of rain beating against the earth. She then realized that her cloths were soaked through. Shakily she stood and started her way back home on trembling legs.

"What the hell was that?"

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The Durslys hadn't talked to Harry since they left the station. They tried not to look him in the eye either. When he sneezed they jumped but still avoided looking at him. Harry couldn't deny that he appreciated the protectiveness of the Order, but it was kind of dull when he could even pick an argument. Well, not pick an argument, he meant it was dull when he didn't have to defend himself against them. Oh well, at least there wasn't any hassle when he made a beeline to his room. Once he was there any thought of the Durslys immediately left his brain.

He was alone. Completely. He had no parents, not even a godfather. Harry thought that there should be a sledgehammer pummeling his chest, but when he looked down there was nothing visible that could point to the source of his pain. Suddenly feeling very tired, he crawled into his bed and lay in a fetal position looking out his window. Harry was exhausted but restless, so he lay still trying to keep the tears from his eyes and watched the sun set. Blinking, unsettled by how sleep had crept up on him, Harry sat up from laying flat on his back. Looking down, he was momentarily surprised that he was still in all his clothes before he remembered how he had gone to sleep. The glow of moonbeams shone across his room making it so the outline of his belongings could be seen.

Harry noticed his stomach growling. He wouldn't be surprised if the Durslys hadn't even bothered to notify him of dinner. He got up and mechanically left his room towards the kitchen. While pouring himself a glass of milk, he felt an inexplicable sensation understanding. He felt the mundane need to scratch his head at this but caught himself before he did so. Shrugging it off, the depressed boy chugged the milk and went back up to his room. Unlike before as soon as Harry hit the pillow he was asleep.

The pages, musty with age, slid through his fingers within their leather binding. The letters were foreign, but to Harry's great surprise he could understand everything which was written. There was a certain page he was looking for, something that held great importance. A spell! He just saw the title of the page, Power Transfusion, before he skimmed the contents memorizing what he was seeing and closing the book. Looking up for the first time, Harry noticed that he was in an enormous library, but he could not make out exactly where, for only a single candle was lit. On the desk that was before him there was a cage holding what looked like a small, white dragon.

"Il sangue che tiene IL." The words vibrated in his mouth, spilled from his lips in a foreign tongue and voice. Looking intently on the dragon, he noticed the change immediately. The dragon, who's glittering, silver eyes had been watching with uncertainty and fear, now grew dim, and its tail, which had been whipping from side to side anxiously, was now limp.

"Potere antico che batte," A beautiful opalescent shadow of the dragon now lifted from his body as its initial body began to color gray.

"L'Ascensore forte al giusto," Now the shadow had levitated up to eye level and looked to be struggling against something that was pulling it. Harry felt the excitment rise up in him.

"E dota......

 in me!" The last words slipped out of his mouth and Harry woke with a start from the sound of his own voice. Pale and shaky with the searing pain of his scar, he tried to make sense of what he had just seen.