Pre-chapter
Death is a mysterious thing. It seemed to linger around the world, now that Dumbledor had died. After his funeral the world quieted for moments of silence. On the Hogwarts express the reality of Dumbledors death hit Harry more than anything else ever had. It was true that he had lost Sirius, but Dumbledor. When Harry left the train he spoke to no one. He sent letters to no one, and he never received any.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't spoken to one another for two weeks. The time was not suited for happiness. He felt that by being with those whom he cared about wouldn't respect Dumbledor.
For a fortnight Harry hadn't left his room in the Dursleys house. He would only have to stay there another two weeks before he came of age. However, what he would do next, he didn't know. Maybe he would attend Bill and Fleurs' wedding. Harry didn't see how they could still be in love after all that had happened. He wished he could feel the same towards his friends, and the rest of the Weasleys. He felt cold, vulnerable to the world. He shook in his bed ruffling the sheets. He awoke in the middle of the night. He was the only one is his room, but he felt someone else, someone who he vaguely knew.
Harry got out of his bed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. His scar didn't hurt, but the rest of his body did. He got up and walked the length of his room to the window. The sky was streaked with clouds. There were no stars, and the moon seemed to have blown away. He raised his hand and touched the glass. It was cold; Harry quickly pulled his fingers away.
The wind howled, and Harry looked around the room not expecting to see anyone. However out of the corner of his eye he saw what looked like a shadow. 'How can there be a shadow? There isn't any light.' Harry thought. He walked tentatively over to the figure. He outstretched his hand as though to touch it, but the figure moved out of Harries reach, silently. Harry whirled about, turning the light on. He could see the figure now.
The figure moved in front of the window, looking out into the night. Silence crept over Privet Drive. Not a floorboard creaked. Harry stood watching the man, afraid to blink. He decided to speak. Though his voice was shaking his words were loud and clear, " Who are you?"
In a second the man had ran over to Harry and lifted him up by the collar of his shirt, " If you speak the freely to anyone you will find yourself upon your peril." The voice was cold and quiet. The man dropped Harry and walked to the window again. Harry pulled himself off the floor. "You must be careful Harry, there are many people lingering in the shadows that you should not trust."