Author's Notes and Disclaimer next chapter.



It was a clear day, bright and sunny with nary a cloud in sight. It was not a day that one would suspect to be the death day of one of the greatest wizards to ever live. Great wizards were not supposed to die on days when the sky mimicked the blue of their eyes. Great wizards were suppose to live forever. Or at least until their world was saved and safe.

But someone had forgotten to tell reality that and now Albus Dumbledore was dead. His body was never recovered, but scraps of his white beard were found stained in his blood by a student in a deserted hallway of Hogwarts during the last year. A day later, "The Daily Prophet" reported receiving a letter from the once thought dead Lord Voldemort, claiming responsibility for the death of the great man.

And so began the darkest days of the Wizard World since the night the Potters had been killed, 14 years before.

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Harry Potter sat in the summer sunshine in the graveyard, silently contemplating the distant castle that was now his permanent home. Thanks to the efforts of Dumbledore and many others who knew them, Severus Snape had been granted full custody of him, but this had been less of a blessing than Harry had thought it would be.

Snape had been closer to Dumbledore than anyone had realized. He had locked himself in his dungeons for a week after the letter had been found and when he came out, he had declared that Dumbledore was not dead. Now he was on a one-man hunt for the body of Albus Dumbledore or at least proof that the man was still among the living.

Snape stayed up late into the night doing research and disappeared early in the morning. Harry was certain the man was only getting a total of four hours sleep per night. He wasn't sure how his adoptive father was doing it, but at least he now knew how Snape had survived last summer when Harry had been kidnapped. Snape had almost died rescuing Harry but had somehow survived, even when faced with Voldemort himself.

Harry sighed at the memory. Dumbledore had been there to save Snape. He had been there to bully the Dursley's into handing signing Harry over to Snape's custody. And he had been there to shelter the refugees from Hogsmeade when Voldemort had taken his anger of Harry being alive out on the little town. But he wasn't here to pick up the pieces of his death.

"Harry," called a deep, gravelly voice.

Harry turned quickly to see Lupin and Sirius walking quickly toward him, a worried look shining from their eyes. Sirius was still haggard, but his robes and were cleaner now. He was a free man now, after all. Lupin looked as he normally did, though there seemed to be a little more grey in his hair.

"What is that git thinking," Sirius raged, his dark eyes flashing in his yet hollow face. "Letting you wander so far from the castle."

"He didn't know," Harry answered softly. "I didn't tell anyone."

"That's even worse," Sirius roared. "Don't you realize the danger you're in? You-Know-Who has his Death Eaters out in force to kill you and you're sitting in a graveyard!"

"I just wanted to visit," Harry told them softly, gesturing at the headstone next to him.

Lupin and Sirius stared at the tombstone, finally realizing it to be Dumbledore's. Sirius seemed to lose some of the steam in his angry diatribe and the light dimmed from his eyes. Lupin's face softened, his soft brown eyes growing sad.

"He was a great man," Lupin said gently, "but he wouldn't want you putting yourself in danger just to visit him. You might have asked someone to bring you."

"Or at least told someone," Sirius gruffly added, though Harry knew he wouldn't have settled for just that.

Harry nodded before starting back down the path that lead out of the cemetery, "I guess we had better go back."

He could feel the two men's footfalls behind him, silently watching him as they followed. He detested that. What was he? Their own personal scapegoat? Without Dumbledore he was believed to be the Wizarding World's only hope, but Harry didn't feel like anyone's last hope. He felt like a fifteen, soon to be sixteen, year old boy. He didn't want the world's most evil Wizard since Grindelwald after him. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to be pitied or the center of everyone's attention and jealousy. He wanted to be the teenager he was. But so long as Voldemort remained, he couldn't be. And as long as there was no Dumbledore to stand between him and certain defeat, Harry was going to become a man before he was even 18.

With a soft sigh, Harry turned his head to glanced back at the gravesite. He stumbled to a stop, almost tripping over his own feet sideways as he saw a tall shine beside the headstone. The shine held the form of a woman, resplendent in old long white robes, her long red hair flowing in the breeze.

Except there was no breeze. And even in the Wizarding World, women weren't supposed to glow.

Lupin suddenly blocked Harry's view of her, "Harry, what's wrong? You're whiter than Sir Nick."

"Harry," Sirius echoed questioningly. He glanced over his shoulder to try and glimpse whatever Harry had seen.

Harry dodged Lupin and looked wildly at where he had last seen the woman, but she was gone. Nothing remained of her to be seen.

"Harry," Lupin asked again as Sirius frowned worriedly.

"I'm okay," Harry replied quickly. "I just forgot something. I'll be right back."

Sirius and Lupin stood watching as Harry ran back, his curiosity driving each step until all Harry could think of was who or what that woman might have been. Ghosts didn't glow like that and if she wasn't a ghost, she must have left behind some kind of clue. If he couldn't have a childhood, the least he could have was one last adventure before the war that had only just begun to make its presence known.

He skidded to a stop by the grave and looked slowly around. The ground seemed undisturbed, as did the tombstone, but there was one thing different from before. A book lay atop the headstone, its ancient leather cover slightly glowing in the warm summer sun. Ancient English was engraved in the cover, gold faintly shining from where it had once traced words.

Harry reached out to touch the book, but pulled his hand back, finally showing a sense of self-preservation. A breeze blew around him, ruffling his longish, unkempt black hair. The breeze was warm and soft, it whispered gentle words of encouragement to him. "Take the book. Take it. A gift," it whispered.

Harry took the book and, with a last glance back to make sure he hadn't missed anything, he ran to join his godfather and former professor.

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Draco Malfoy sat on his bed watching the sunset. A light breeze blew through the trees outside and set up a beautiful if lonely music for the sombre young man. He would be sixteen soon, but he already detested life. After all, he was alone. There was no one to save him now. Dumbledore was dead and he was the only man Draco had dared to believe capable of saving him.



The only person Draco felt could save him, he hated the thought of owing. The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, was the only left who could destroy You-Know-Who and free Draco from his imprisonment, but Draco knew that his classmate was not strong enough. No matter what the Wizarding World thought of him, no matter how often he got lucky and escaped alive, Potter was doomed. He was only a boy. How could a boy kill such a powerful wizard? Not even Dumbledore had been able to.

A creak sounded outside Draco's door and he tensed. Surely his parents couldn't be coming back? They'd already forced him to practice all the Unforgivables and a few ugly curses besides, how much more could they want?

But nothing happened after the creak and Draco slowly eased his tight muscles into relaxation. It must have been the house settling. He turned back to the sunset and idly wondered if the sun felt as trapped as he did. It had no place to run to either. It was surrounded by nothingness and he by enemies. Too bad they couldn't join forces. Draco would definitely be free if he had the sun on his side.

Sighing, Draco curled up into a ball on his soft, warm quilt and fell into a light sleep, his brain imagining all the conversations he could have with a star.

Next: The Book (?)