Chapter 3
Harry's scar burned.
Although, that really was not such a strange occurrence as of late. Ever since he had lost Sirius to that damned veil, his scar began to hurt more often, almost as if it wanted to remind him that he was linked to the Dark Lord and that said Dark Lord really was rising in power.
Harry began to grow accustomed to the dull throb during that particularly horrid summer and during 6th year until the burning became simply a distant throb in the back of his mind.
At least, it was until a few days ago.
The moon had been unusually bright that evening, and the sky seemed darker, the stars more distant. The phenomenon unnerved Harry, and he would find himself unconsciously rubbing his forehead, even though the pain there had neither diminished nor increased.
Since he was allowed to do magic out of school now, the Dursley's tended to leave him to his own devices which thoroughly relieved him. He enjoyed the forced solitude, and would often seek the comfort of the large trees in the Dursley's backyard.
That particular night, he was feeling rather restless, and ended up climbing higher than normal in one of the larger maple trees. Almost at the top of the leafy canopy, Harry had a stunning view of the cloudless expanse of dark night sky that stretched endlessly overhead.
Privet Drive was utterly silent; no crickets, or other night animals made any sound whatsoever, which further increased Harry's sense of restlessness. It felt like the world was waiting for something, almost as if everything, in their anticipation, forgot to function.
As early morning rolled around and the dew beginning to form, Harry began to shiver violently in the humid evening air.
Somewhat worried that he could not control his harsh jerking movements, he clung to the branch he was seated on, vainly trying to grasp some sort of control of his body. Slowly, his shuddering slowed until only slight twitching of random appendages was left.
Relieved that he was once again mostly under control, he took a calming breath, then looked at his watch realizing how late, or early depending on ones view, it was, he glanced back toward where he knew his bed awaited him.
Just as he was about to climb back down and head towards his long forgotten bed, it happened.
The previously inky expanse of sky lit up in a star burst of silver, then contracted in on itself until only the moon could be seen glowing with such a strong silver light he could not look directly toward it.
A single stream fell from the glowing orb reaching for the ground far away from where Harry sat, then cut off and fell until the entire silver stream vanished into the earth.
Silence reigned for a few moments, then the glowing silver calmed until only a faintly visible ring could be seen circling the moon. The stares appeared once more, twinkling brighter than ever before; the ebony of the night sky cleared to more of a normal deep bluish black, and all noise suddenly burst into life.
Harry sat stunned, all shivering-twitching stopped, clinging to his seat in the tree, mouth hanging wide open.
'What the hell was that…' was the only coherent thought that was able to circulate in his mind.
Then his scar burst into a frenzy of searing pain.
So startled he was by the sudden blast of agony, he toppled head first out of the tall maple, and bounced, boneless, off branches until landing with a harsh crunch on the moss covered ground.
All coherent thought vanished into the comforting arms of unconsciousness.
'That was almost a week ago tomorrow…' Harry thought to himself, glancing at the Chudley Cannons calendar that hung on his wall, after he ran through his memories of that strange night once more.
Rubbing at the cast on his arm, he limped slowly toward the tiny window of his bedroom and stared out into the afternoon sky.
He had been confined to his room since the Dursley's had woken that next morning to find Harry's unconscious body lying under the maple tree with broken bones and bloodied limbs, his glasses snapped in two a few feet from his limp form.
After a days stay in the hospital, he was released back into their care with a cast on his right arm, scratches covering his skin from head to toe, and a sprained ankle. The muggle doctors could do nothing about the throbbing redness that was his scar.
Faintly, he could still see the silhouette of the moon outside his window, with the slight ring of silver still surrounding it. Ever since that night, it had not disappeared, and no matter what time of day it was, if one looked close, the moon was constantly visible in the sky.
The weather reports stopped mentioning the strange phenomenon two days ago, finally accepting that it was not going to go away anytime soon.
With a sigh, Harry glared at his arm that was suspended by a sling. Then, hobbling painfully, he sat back down on his bed with another sigh.
'I wish Hermione were here. I'm sure she could do something with these stupid injuries.' Harry shook his head, his good hand coming up to gingerly touch the searing flesh that was his scar. Not only did the pain feel like it was constantly on fire, it was extremely hot to the touch.
Even though his scar had flared to life in such a way that had never happened before, Harry still did not have that feeling of foreboding in the pit of his stomach. Instead of the steady growing fear that normally accompanied his scar, he instead felt a growing anticipation, one he could not explain.
It was that feeling of anticipation that terrified him.
Just then the doorbell rang, the chiming echoing throughout the house, bringing Harry out of his introspective thoughts.
Soon, strange sounds began to float to him from the downstairs, his Uncle starting to bellow and his Aunt protesting something in her screeching voice.
Hobbling to his door, he unlocked it with his wand and peered around the door jam just in time to see Dudley run toward him white faced, howling in terror.
When he spotted Harry standing in the door way, Dudley paled even more if possible, stuttered something incoherent, although Harry thought he heard something about a 'terrifying face' and 'your kind' before he fainted dead away in the hallway.
Stunned for a moment, Harry simply stood there leaning against his door jam, staring at the lump of fat that was his cousin.
A particularly loud shriek from his Aunt brought him out of his stupor, and slightly apprehensive, Harry made his slow way toward the stairwell and started down.
Once half way down, he bent slightly to look farther down the stairs and glanced toward the front door.
Shock once more overcame his senses as he stared right into the livid face of his most hated professor.
'Bloody hell…' ran through his mind as he stared slack jawed into the black narrowed eyes of Professor Severus Snape.
AN: Another chapter, and the plot thickens somewhat. I am going to be re-writing the prologue this evening; it originally was not meant for this story, so the perspective and style is different from the rest. So I will be revising, then re-loading it. Don't forget to re-read it when it is!