Sarra: Well, after a loooong time we're sitting down to write again.

Christin: It is truly a miracle.

Sarra: Haha. Quite right. But now we're going to skip ahead quite some years, Harry's an adult now... If you call almost 18 an adult...

Christin: Yeah, it's the end of 7th year, haha!

Sarra: Why'd you laugh?

Christin: Must I have a reason?

Sarra: *shrugs* I guess not. Ah well, can we begin now?

Christin: Right... Now our feature presentation!!!

-=-

*Chapter 2*

*Setting the Stage and the Losing of Sanity*

Day after day Harry was immensely happy about the uplifting talk Dumbledore had given him on that summer's evening. It had saved his life and helped him to preserve his hope through the losses with the attacks of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Of course, Dumbledore's words of wisdom were not his only consolation in the times of despair, he'd found solace in the heart of the youngest Weasley. Ginny and Harry had steadily grown closer through the retaliations on the Dark Lord with the D.A. Without even realizing it Harry had placed Ginny first on his priority list, most of what he did lately was to make her smile, since he loved to see her deep brown eyes light up with mirth. Ginny had quite grown out of her phase of "little girl crush". She no longer saw Harry as "The Boy Who Lived"... but as the man who made her happy. So, without knowing it Harry and Ginny fell in love. With the happiness in the tightly knit group of wizards opposed to Voldemort, they were nearly apathetic to the fact the war was still terrorizing the muggle and wizard worlds alike...

(Sarra: All you angst-lovers, hold on. It'll come... then never leave. So hang out a bit.)

--=-=--

The onyx sky shone dimly over the small death mound. Non-descript and not holding much attention for many men, it only held one man's hopes. The Scottish burial mound held the hope of the man who stood over it. His red eyes glinted with near hysteria as the wind blew his cloak about his ankles. The disgruntled barley for miles around the man sighed and moaned in the silky night wind. The pale corpse of a neighborhood child lay prostrate next to the man's feet. He reached out a skeletal hand and grabbed the slit neck of the infant, squeezing enough so the still fresh blood oozed over his white fingers. He brought the hand stained with the innocent's blood to his face, examining his work. A satisfied grin slid across his twisted face.

Lord Voldemort bent over the mound, splaying his bloodied hand there, letting the child's blood soak into the dry ground and golden wheat. There was a deep groan and to the left of his hand an entry melted open in the dead earth. Voldemort smiled again, everything was turning a new direction from now until the moment he would step from that yawning gap... new.... And immortal.

-=-=-

"NO!"

"Harry!?"

"No, stupid. It's me, Christin. You're too much into your writing Sarra."

"Oh," Sarra groaned, "Sorry. What now? I'm about to throw up after that segment..."

"Uhm... How's about we leave it there? To taunt them?" Christin smiled sardonically.

Sarra nodded and looked at the confused reader, "See you next time."

Christin fell out of her seat laughing, and Sarra nearly busted a gut.

Then both girls jumped up and yelled at the retreating reader, "WAIT!"

The reader turned back, afraid that they might bite them...

"Please review?" both girls said in unison, small golden halos appearing over their heads.

-=-=-