Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but the fan-fic below is mine.



Harry Potter and the Flight to the Emerald Tower: Prologue



It was another bleak and dreary day at Number 4 Privet Drive. Harry Potter, a tall, skinny, boy with stubbornly messy black hair and flashing green eyes, lay in his room staring absent mindedly at the ceiling. As tiny and cramped as his room was, Harry knew he'd rather spend his time there then downstairs with the Dursleys. No doubt at that moment Uncle Vernon was sitting on the couch, his fat fingers holding the paper up to his round face, while Dudley watched his favorite evening show and Aunt Petunia fidgeted about the kitchen. The Dursleys, despite their warnings from Mad-Eye and the rest, hadn't treated Harry any better or worse since last summer. In fact, they continued to act as though he wasn't even there.


Harry didn't mind their cold shoulders though. It was easier than having their angry eyes and cruel words aimed at him. He'd been in his room for days now, unwilling to come out except on occasion for food and bathroom. He couldn't help reliving Sirius's death each minute of the day. That terrible moment was still fresh in his mind. A memory clearer than the ceiling at which he stared. Everyone told him it would be ok. That it wasn't his fault and that Time would heal all things. But Harry couldn't help feeling that Time would heal nothing. And the guilt of that day was digging a deeper and deeper dent in his soul. Harry couldn't shake the feeling that it was his fault.


A sudden knock at the door brought him abruptly back to his little room. The door opened a crack and a head popped through. It was Uncle Vernon. His beady eyes glistening with the usual hatred as he glared at Harry.
"We're going out for the day. Stay in your room and don't try anything freaky. You hear me, boy?" he said after Harry didn't reply.


"Yeah." Harry mumbled. He didn't care enough anymore to give much of a reply. And with a slam of the door Uncle Vernon and his fat head were gone.


Harry sat up, grabbed his "History of Quidditch" book off his desk and tried to read. But he was too weary and tired from sorrow and fell back onto his bed with a plop. Within seconds he fell into a deep slumber.


He was running. Running from who or what, Harry didn't know. A door appeared ahead of him into view. Harry saw that it was old and black with paint chipping and it's handle, a golden spiral, was tarnished and brown. He sped to it feeling that if he could only reach it and get inside he would be safe. On and on he pressed. It seemed like he was running forever, too afraid to look back to see what was chasing him. Finally Harry reached the door. With a twist of the handle he burst through.


He was now in a dark hallway. The smell of decay and dust filled his nostrils. Harry sprinted even faster now as a loud bang echoed mere yards behind him. The creature had come through the door. As he sped down the hallway he looked frantically from side to side in the darkness for a place to hide. But nothing could be seen in or heard in the pitch blackness except for the sound of his feet hitting the floor as he ran giving off loud clapping. It seemed there was no where for him to escape as he ran down the dark hall. But something suddenly caught Harry's eye as he ran. A light had appeared in a room at the far end of the hall. Maybe I will be saved after all, he thought. With new hope Harry sprinted toward the light, pushing his long legs as fast as they would carry him. Harry was inches from the light when the creature caught up to him. It latched onto his ankle with a terrible grip and he fell to the floor with a thud, sending a blinding pain through his entire body.

"No!" he screamed. He couldn't stop now. He was only inches away. But the creature was dragging him. Pulling him back further and further into the darkness. The light was growing dim.


Harry Potter awoke with a jolt, scar searing, screams filling his room, only to find his best friend Ron Weasley standing above him with his arm on Harry's shoulder. His red hair matted to his worried face from sweat. His twin brothers Fred and George behind him staring at Harry with looks of mingled shock and worry.