Harry blinked and removed his glasses, cleaning them fervently, then placing them back. Again, he read:

"Headmaster…Harry Potter."

Dumbledore had announced his death, handed over a weapon, and placed he, Harry, as Headmaster of a non-existent school, all in the context of a small, innocent, letter.

A year ago, he might have cried. He might have raged at the unfairness of his life. After all, it was he who was supposed to defeat Voldemort, to save the world, to allow mothers to tuck their little ones in at night, knowing they would awake to find their children, all in one piece--no arms across the room, far from where they used to swing at the sides of their hosts. No one else knew, save Dumbledore, about the prophecy. Now he was alone, alone with his secret, and an entire school to manage. Again, a small strange feeling surged through him, as if the whisper of Dumbledore's name had brought with it his presence. Again, Harry felt hope, not for himself, but for his friends. By now they had received the same letters, and were waiting for him. At last, he knew with finality, what he had to do.

Grabbing a small piece of parchment, Harry scribbled a small note to Mrs. Figg, who had bravely watched over him, even when the Death Eaters had still been hot on his trail. Gingerly, he placed his explanation next to an empty cat food dish, hurrying back upstairs to gather his things. Carefully he packed his meager possessions--a few tattered robes, his mirror, given to him by Sirius, his snitch socks so carefully selected by Dobby, and a first edition version of Hogwarts: A History, given to him by Hermione just weeks ago. (He'd already eaten Ron's package of Weasley Wheezes Wunchies.) With one last glance around the dilapidated remains of the place he had called home for seventeen years, he took a deep breath, grasped his Firebolt, and apparated to King's Cross Station.

If only it had been that easy.

Harry had never enjoyed apparating, and in fact, in his sixth year, had been forbidden from doing so. He could still hear Snape's voice hissing in his ear,

"To apparate one must open his mind completely to his next location. You cannot afford that luxury, Potter! Just think, if you had a little more self control, perhaps Sirius could be teaching you now…"

He was doing it again, he was allowing himself to slip into his past! Even in the brief second he traveled from one plane to the next, Voldemort was sensing him, unlocking the prophecy, destroying all hope of a future.

"There you are Harry," whispered a voice Harry had come to confuse with his own.

"I've been looking for you. I just thought you might want to know, Dumbledore's death was perhaps the happiest moment of my life. In fact, I think perhaps you are the only one I might enjoy killing more."

"NOOOO!" Cried Harry, his scar surging with newfound pain. He had to fight, it couldn't end now, just when he had found his weapon…

Slowly, he began to close his mind, blocking out Voldemort's sneering remarks.

"Just a little further, what's this? A letter…what does it say, Harry? Read it to me…"

Harry tried harder, this time thinking of Fawkes; in fact, he could hear the Phoenix singing now.

"Who is that, Harry, is that a friend of yours? Who is she Harry…just a little further…"

"King's Cross, King's Cross," Harry thought, trying desperately to arrive. The song was getting louder…

"HARRY!"

"Stay away from me!" he screamed.

"Give him some space, Hermione!" yelled Ron.

"Wha-Voldemort! Hermione, sorry, song…"

"Here mate," said Ron, "Just sit still for a second. This'll help."

As Harry's vision returned, he saw the familiar surrounding of his childhood--The large brick pillars, the trolleys, the Hogwarts Express, steam billowing above. However, the atmosphere was ashen, the sounds of bustling students and anxious parents far away. In the distance he saw Hermione-- her figure gaunt her face pale--leaning over what appeared to be something small and silver. Ron was sitting nearby, looking much the same, and stroking a rather large, colorful bird. As the bird began to cry, he understood finally, the song…everything made sense… "Fawkes!"

"Yeah," grinned Ron. Dumbledore sent him… with my letter. He looked away, not wanting to reveal his bloodshot eyes.

Hermione walked over, hiding the necklace under her shirt. "It's a time turner, the one from our third year," she squeaked, her voice strained. I found it, in my…my…my letter," she finally finished, a tear sliding down her cheek.

Harry remembered a similar tear, belonging to Dumbledore.

"We can't stay here long," sighed Harry, stumbling to his feet. The Hogwarts Express gave a half-hearted call. "Voldemort saw me, when I apparated, I'm sure of it."

"He didn't see anything else, did he?" asked Hermione, looking apprehensive.

"No, thanks to Fawkes, anyway," he replied. Hey, what the--

Suddenly, a roaring sound filled his ears. He heard Hermione cry, "Disaparitio!" as she and Ron disappeared behind a pillar. He tried motioning for Ron and Hermione to run to the train, but he couldn't see them. In fact, the arm he was trying to motion with wasn't there at all.

"Don't panick, it's just a temporary invisibility charm, it just erases you for a few minutes," he heard Hermione scream. "Voldemort must have seen King's Cross and sent his Death Eaters. Ron's already on the train, you've got to try and run, but be careful, you won't be able to see your feet!"

Grabbing his things, which thankfully, were still visible, he ran clumsily toward the train. "Don't wait for me!" he yelled, not sure where anyone was. "ARG!" he cried, as he tripped over his own feet."

"Keep down!" he heard a voice yell, as a Death Eater whooshed over his head.

The next voice Harry recognized as that of Lucius Malfoy. "Board the train, you idiots! I want any passengers brought to me unharmed! If you see the Potter boy, ignore him!"

To his horror, Harry saw his feet begin to reappear, along with Hermione, who was one pillar over.

"Harry," she yelled, "I need you to trust me. Please, please, I promise, we'll all get out of here, but you've just got to listen! Don't ask questions!"

Harry didn't like the sound of her voice, but she had such a look of desperation. Reluctantly, he set aside his instincts and nodded his head in consent.

"RUN!" she shouted, pointing at the train.

For once, Harry was glad he had listened; this had been his plan as well. Yet, this seemed to easy, he was almost there, nothing had happened…

"Nice try, Potter," hissed Malfoy, as Harry fell to the ground, a full body bind clenching each of his bones. "Now, say goodbye t-"

"CRUCIO! Animorphus! Now, Harry, go!"

He felt Hermione's small hand clench his arm and pull him aboard the train.

"Look at that, 11:00 AM, on the dot," muttered Ron grimly, as they train began to move.