Disclaimer: Swimming in JKR's ocean, not mine. I just like looking at her pretty fishies.

1: PROLOGUE
A Horse and His Boy

The night's air was fierce and cold, and wrought with a heaviness that forced the Thestral to pump its dark wings with an extra ferocity. Its ebony coat was glazed in sweat, despite the frigidity of the weather. At first glance the creature gave off the impression of the victim of a horse-dragon breeding that had gone terribly wrong. For while its body was clearly that of a horse, its wings were huge and bat-like, not unlike those of a dragon. Its head too, was built along the same lines of a dragon, with pupiless eyes that stared blankly into the gloom ahead.

Upon the creature's back was a rider who was nearly as curious as the steed he so relentlessly drove onwards. He was a young man of seventeen, although from the looks of him, he could have easily been mistaken as much older. The boy's hair and robes were as dark as his Thestral's mane; his skin, so drained from lack of sleep and prolonged exposure to the cold, was as pale as death. The only spark of color between horse and rider at all was the pair of emerald eyes the boy hid behind round-rimmed glasses. They were so like his mother's, so many people had often told him. That was before. Now, if someone had happened to pass them on this brutal autumn evening and look into the boy's eyes, they would see only a defiant hardness. It wasn't a look that became a boy so young.

But this was not just any boy. He was quite famous among the witches and wizards of his time. This was the Boy-who-lived. This was the Chosen One – the one who was destined to either save the wizarding world from the wickedness that was Lord Voldemort, or die trying.

Lord Voldemort was precisely the reason he was flying so hard tonight. If he were to be caught out in the open by any of his enemy's followers, there was no sure way he could survive. His best chance was to fly the creature long and hard, without stopping for any reason but to water his steed and quickly stretch his stiffened legs. They had only stopped twice, and it had been a flight of two days. The dark-haired boy felt for his horse, which he had appropriately named Falcor, but he knew also that speed and secrecy were the differences between survival and death.

The boy – Harry Potter was his name - rubbed the sides of Falcor's neck in a silent thank you. The horse threw up its head slightly in response.

"You're making brilliant time, boy," he told the horse, though he wasn't entirely sure of its sex. The Thestral didn't complain, so Harry assumed that he was indeed a male. "Let me find out how close we are."

Making sure his thighs tightly gripped the sides of the Thestral, he released its neck and drew out his wand. Harry cast the four-point spell, which let him know of their direction, and another spell Hermione had taught him, that let him know of the distance still between him and his destination. The first semblance of a smile in days shone upon Harry's face.

"We're close, Falcor," Harry murmured. "It shouldn't be long now."

Just then, a flash of lightning lit up the night sky and the booming of thunder followed soon after. Harry swore. He was in no mood to get wet, but they would have to stay below the clouds in order to see where they were. Another flash of lightning split the heavens, much closer this time. Falcor reared in the midst of the sky, which was a slightly terrifying experience. Harry lent him all the soothing words he could, trying to block out his own fear. The Thestral would be able to tell if his rider was scared.

When the next lightning strike hit, it very nearly singed Falcor's tail, and Harry felt his already wild hair stand on end. He knew they were direct targets, up here in the storm. He didn't like descending so soon, but he knew there wasn't a choice. Where as there was some protection in the forested mountains of below, there was nothing up here in the air to keep them from being singed alive. Harry leaned forward and twined his stallion's mane around his fingers.

"OK boy," he yelled against a wave of rain, "land wherever you think is best. We'll go on foot from here."

The Thestral seemed very pleased by this and by the time the next bolt of lightning cracked the night, both Horse and his Boy were safe on the ground.

"Just keep going northeast from here."

Falcor made it clear he did not need Harry's instructions, as he had clearly caught the scent. He pranced ahead excitedly. If this weren't such a grave occasion, Harry might have thought the sight rather amusing.

On foot, they were a lot slower than the air, but Falcor was able to rest his great wings, and there was some protection from the downpour thanks to the many trees. For several miles they traveled, Harry constantly aware of the rain beating on his back. He longed to be warm, well fed, and clean shaved again.

Perhaps those luxuries would still not be available to me, he reminded himself. After all, I'm not exactly welcome where I'm going as it is.

Falcor and Harry topped a rise sometime later, and they were greeted by the sight of a foreboding looking fortress in the valley below them. Many sensations streamed through Harry as he gazed at what they had come so far to find. Finally, he set his mouth in a firm line and nudged his steed down into the valley. What would come would come.

A/N: Cookie for anyone who can tell me what "Falcor" is from :)