Thank you, everyone, for your reviews. Ohmigosh, I was so overwhelmed when I read them. It feels good to have people supporting you. A few comments I'd like to make:

Lilolu: I'm sorry I confused you!!! I didn't mean to! Thank you for the applause. bows I am honored. Glad you liked it and I hope that you will continue to enjoy it in the future. I'll try not to confuse you in the future!

Rainbow: I'm glad you thought it was good. I'll try to keep it going as long as I can, all right?

Apple Blossom: -tears- Thank you for that inspiring review! I felt a lot better after that. You're good at giving encouragment. I'll continue writing this as long as I can.

Some one Who Cares: Thank you, too. I'll try to continue. Love your penname, by the way!

Cathy: Aww, you think? That'd be cool if it was a fanfic to remember. Thanks.

Padfoot: Okay, I'll work on the emotions and elaborations. If you have any ideas or suggestions on that point, email me and let me know, please. Thanks.

Illusions2525: I didn't mean to go so fast. I'm sorry! I just sat down and started writing! So sorry!

Foxeh: Um, all right. I didn't mention Draco Malfoy in the first chapter. . . That was his father, Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy was the Death Eater that killed Dudley. Sorry if you thought it was a bit quick. And I have no hard feelings towards you in any way. Thank you for your suggestions.

Gkey: I'll try to update as fast as I can. Suspense? Wow, that's cool. Hope you like the future chapters!

Mercurialgreen: Wow, you are so cool. I loved your review. You're like the critic every writer wants! Thanks for the compliments to my writing. Yeah, teasers and cliff hangers are kind of my pathetic way to keep the reader coming back for more. I'm so lame. . .



frozenfemale: Thanks for being brutally honest. I appreciate that. The cloaked figure is . . . Well, you'll just have to keep reading. I'll never tell! MUHAHAHA! okay, anyway, sorry, got carried away. But yes, you will have to keep reading. I have the feeling everyone is going to be disappointed with me after you find out who the cloaked figure is. Look for them in following chapters!

Thank you, everyone, for you inspiring reviews. I'm so totally blushing. Well, anyway, I don't own anyone from the Harry Potter books. J.K. Rowling owns them (unfortanutely...). So, now, let's get on with it!
Teardrop Manor

They seemed to walk for hours. The figure ahead of Harry remained hidden in the many cloaks that they were wearing. Harry was no more aware of who--or what--this person was than he had been at first sight. The only thing he knew that their grip was biting into his upper arm as they practically dragged him along behind them.

"Can you let go of me," Harry asked breathlessly. He was tiring quickly.

"I could," the person said. "But I won't. I can't lose you."

"Then can you at least slow down?"

"No, the sun will be coming up soon and I need to get us to where we're going."

"Well, I'm about to faint or something," panted Harry, still trying to keep up. This person had a determined stride to their walk. He was just being pulled along for the ride.

"We're here."

Harry looked up and his mouth fell agape. Out of nowhere had appeared a decidedly old mansion. Most of the windows were boarded up and those that weren't had the glass busted out of them. Weeds had taken to growing up the sides and hide most of the brickwork from view. Harry got a foreboding feeling from looking up into the dark windows on the second story.

"Where in the world are we," Harry whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. He was growing colder and colder with each step. This house was giving off waves of darkness, or so it felt to Harry. A shiver ran up his spine as he thought of what might be waiting inside for him.

"My home." The person walked right up to the front door, which, like the windows, was boarded up to prevent entry.

Harry's arm wasn't released, even when the person drew their wand and pointed it at the door. He had lost all feeling in his hand. The figure flicked their wrist and all of the planks jumped aside. The wooden boards stood straight and tall like soldiers. The door swung open with an ominous creak and the figure pushed Harry inside. They followed him quickly as the door slammed closed. Harry jumped in surprise. There were several loud thumps which must have been the planks slamming back into place.

Pulling up the sleeve to his sweatshirt, Harry saw that the flesh of his upper arm had long since turned purple and was well on its way to being black. Whoever that was sure had a strong grip.

"Welcome to my home, Master Potter," the person said. Their voice echoed throughout the whole house. "What do you think of it?"

Harry chose his words carefully before answering. He didn't want to insult whoever this person was. What could he say about this dank house? He couldn't rightly tell this person that their home scared him, that it made him dread his every step. So instead, he said, "It's. . . nice."

A snort came from the person.

"If you ask me, it is a dump," they said. "Not even worthy enough for scum. Which is probably why I am it's single occupant. . ."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, curiousity plaguing him.

"Nothing, Master Potter. 'Twas nothing. Make yourself comfortable, dear boy. It will be quite awhile before the others arrive."

The room that they entered was huge. It was fashioned with many beautiful antiques. Everything was dusty from years of neglect. Where was he supposed to make himself comfortable? He half expected some giant dust bunnies to jump out of the nearest closet and attack him.

A door near him swung open, revealing a large bedroom.

"Go on in, Master Potter. Rest assured, there are no dust bunnies in there to attack you."

Harry turned to question the person as to how they had known about his thoughts of dust bunnies, but the mysterious person was nowhere in sight. Slightly spooked and wondering if he really was safe with this person, Harry wandered into the bed room.

It looked just like his dorm room at Hogwarts. The five four-poster beds were set right were they normally were. All of his belongings were sitting at the foot of his bed. Hedwig's cage was sitting right in the middle of his neatly-made bed, with Hedwig hooting angrily from behind it's bars. She still wasn't over her pervious mistreatment. He was glad there was at least someone he knew here.

When he ran to the window, Harry found himself looking out over the Hogwarts grounds as they appeared at night. He quickly forgot where he was and pried the window open. A horrible shrieking sound filled the room and the wind blew him down onto his backside. His hands flew up to his ears in an attempt to block out the sound. The window snapped shut and the sound stopped, leaving his ears ringing. The black-hooded figure stood in front of the window and although Harry couldn't see their face, he could feel them glaring at him hotly. His skin started feeling hot, as if thousands of tiny pinpricks of fire were errupting all over his body.

"Leave the windows closed," the person growled. "They are bewitched, like the rooms, to mirror the occupants deepest desires. Kindly leave them closed unless you want creatures crawling through them to bite your head off."

And as quickly as they had come, the person disappeared. For a moment, Harry wondered if he had imagined the whole thing. A hoot from Hedwig brought him back to reality quickly and Harry realized how tired he was. The day's events had caught up to him atlast.

His heart was heavy as he changed into his pajamas. He let Hedwig out of her cage and watched sluggishly as she flew around the room in angry. The bed was calling to him, begging him to lie down, telling him that he would feel so much better if he would just lie down. . .

He didn't even realize that he was curled up under the blankets until he looked down at them. He somehow managed to take off this glasses and set them down on the nightstand before his eyes closed of their own accord. Tears streaked down his face.

"Welcome to Teardrop Manor, Harry Potter," said a soothing, feminine voice in his ear. He fell asleep before he could give that voice a second thought.

That night, his dreams were clouded with the memories of his relatives dying. He tossed and turned, cried and whimpered, blaming himself for their deaths. If only he'd stayed downstairs. He could have warned them. If only he hadn't hid under that bed like a coward. He could have defended Dudley. If only. . .

To Be Continued...