Chapter Five: Dark and Sad Premonitions

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A large, purple sphere, with strange gold markings on it. It suddenly burst out huge green streaks of light, revealing lists of all the places Voldemort had been, the people he had killed, the people he had injured, and the people who had beaten him.

Right when they looked at it, another place appeared under the first list. "Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey"

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"This place has changed..." said Dumbledore, as he walked around the house Harry had spent so much time in as a child. Ever since Harry's uncle and cousin had been killed in a car accident, his Aunt Petunia had been in St. Mungo's because she had gone crazy with grief. Harry had visited her once, after she had been there a year. Her face was sunken in, her eyes hard,cold, and staring. He couldn't see the loathing for him in her eyes, even if he was right in front of her. Then Dumbledore remembered when he had arranged for Harry to live with the Weasleys. Harry had been living with the Weasley's for two years, but when Mr. Weasley, Percy, Bill, and Charlie had been killed and eaten by a Norwegian Ridgeback being controlled by Voldemort under the Imperious Curse, Mrs. Weasley, the twins, Ron, and Ginny moved to another house, in France, to get away from all the troubles. After that, Harry had gone to live with Lupin, who had moved to Sirius' old house. Then, Lupin was taken. Then Harry was taken.

Dumbledore saw a pattern. Wherever Harry went, Voldemort followed, leaving death, destruction, and grief. He knew what had to happen.

Harry would be killed, leaving his friends, adults, and family to fight the Final Battle alone, without the Boy Who Lived to guide their battles. They would stumble over the fields and houses, fighting for their innocent lives. They would bathe in crimson, their regrets for not realizing about the enemy cutting deep within their souls. The husbands, sons, wives, daughters, and family members dying, their friends weeping and weeping, staring through wet and red eyes at their lost comrade. They would pray for another leader to come, waiting for thier prayers to be answered, but they never were. Their thoughts would all be dark and cold. They would all wait for their time to come, hoping it would be near so they would not have to endure this injuring agony deepening in thier sad lives. They would scream, waiting for the sadness to be over...their time to be over...the crimson bloodshed to be over...they waited, and waited, but nothing ever came.