Chapter One

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…'

Harry had subconsciously gone over the words of the lost prophecy many times since his visit in Dumbledore's office, where he had first heard them. He still hadn't informed Ron or Hermione of the prophecy or of the fact that his life would have to include or end in murder, but was glad that they had not mentioned anything about the Department of Mysteries in their letters. Privet Drive was duller than ever and he felt more than anything like being at the Burrow, but remembering the visit in Dumbledore's office, he knew that that was out of the question. Dumbledore had stated his reasons for landing him with the Dursleys over the summer (he thought Harry would be safer around someone who shared his mother's blood, and completed the old form of protection). Harry, however, much disagreed now that Voldemort had the same blood flowing through his veins, and doubted whether Aunt Petunia could do anything to stop Voldemort killing him anyway. In fact, he thought, Petunia and Vernon would probably egg Voldemort on as to be ridded of their outcast nephew forever. Now that Voldemort was back at full strength, had fully revealed himself in front of the Ministry of Magic, and was no longer forced to keep hidden and lying low, Dumbledore probably wouldn't let Harry anywhere else but where he thought Harry was safest, which definitely wasn't at the Burrow or anywhere he'd like to be. He knew that he was stuck here, and unlike last summer no guard would show up to take him to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

At this, he remembered his godfather, Sirius, and his brain went blank and numb. All his thoughts drifted away, and the only thing that remained was black. He didn't want to think about his godfather now that he had finally accepted his death. Since the end of his third year at Hogwarts Harry had confided in him for everything. He was the only thing that had ever felt close to having a parent—a father, and now that Sirius was gone he felt more alone than ever. He could of course confide in Ron and Hermione, but however much they could cheer him up, it just wasn't nearly the same. Hermione who could sum up, better than anyone, the feelings of any human being would probably want Harry to talk about it, which he definitely didn't want to do. Ron would be the exact opposite and try to avoid the subject altogether, which Harry much more appreciated, but that forced him to keep his feelings inside forever. He felt alone. The only time he could ever see his godfather again was to look at the picture of him in the Daily Prophet article. It had arrived about two days into the summer holidays. He reached under his pillow and pulled out a crumpled page of the newspaper. Sirius's face beamed out at Harry from the paper and his feelings overwhelmed him again. His long black hair had a soft glow and it was no longer tatty like it had been in the last Daily Prophet article with a clipping of him in prison. His face was less gaunt but still had the same thin shape. His smile warmed Harry's heart and he felt tingly inside. Below the picture was the heading BACK TO BLACK. Harry read through the article again.

Believed to be a mass murderer Sirius Black was murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange, Black's cousin, a supporter of the Dark Lord in the Department of Mysteries. Blakc was also said to be a supporter of the Dark Lord who killed thirteen people with one single curse, and lead to the Potters' death. Up until now the Ministry of Magic has thought this true, but was recently re-informed of what really happened. Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts, informed the Minister that they have been going after the wrong man for three years now, since Black's escape. The minister was also informed that Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew are all unregistered Animagi. James Potter transforms into a stag, Sirius Black transforms into a shaggy black dog, and Peter Pettigrew transforms into a rat.

What everyone thought:

Sirius Black and James Potter along with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew were best of friends during their school days, and when James and Lily Potter had Harry they named Sirius Black Harry's godfather. During the arise of the Dark Lord fifteen years ago the Potters were forced to go into hiding. They had used the Fidelius charm to hide their whereabouts and had made Black their Secret Keeper. The Fidelius charm permits information to be stored in a single living soul, the Secret-Keeper, and that information is impossible to retrieve unless the Secret- Keeper chooses to divulge it.

It was thought that Black divulged it to the Dark Lord, and Peter Pettigrew went looking for Black to kill him. When Pettigrew found Black, Black cornered him and blasted Pettigrew to shreds. He then turned around and murdered the thirteen muggles watching. When Ministry representatives investigated the scene all they found of Peter Pettigrew was his index finger. This information however was incorrect.

The truth:

Shortly after the Potters made Black their Secret-Keeper, they thought it too obvious who they would chose to be secret-Keeper and that the Dark Lord would surely go looking for Black. They changed their Secret-Keeper last minute. They chose instead a less suspected candidate, Peter Pettigrew. It was Peter Pettigrew who was spy for the Dark Lord and told him where the Potters were. After the Potters death Sirius Black knew what Peter had done and went searching for him. Black cornered Pettigrew, who tried to kill Black. He had his wand behind his back and he fired a curse. Black was too intelligent for Pettigrew so the curse didn't kill him, but the muggles standing by. Pettigrew knew that there was no escape so he cut off his finger and transformed into a rat. He ran and Black was the only suspect thought to have committed the crime.

After Peter Pettigrew's escape he was taken in by the Weasley family as the pet rat, Scabbers. The Weasley family knew about the rat's abnormally long life span, but thought nothing of it. Pettigrew had been going to Hogwarts as Percy Weasley's rat and then Ronald Weasley's. Black escaped Azkaban to commit the murder he was convicted of, not to come after Harry Potter as everyone thought. He wanted to get to Hogwarts to find and kill the rat.

Ronald Weasley along with his two best friends Harry Potter and Hermione Granger found out about Scabbers's true identity at the end of their third year at Hogwarts when Black escaped. Unfortunately Pettigrew escaped the night the trio found out, so there was no evidence Black was innocent except for the word of three thirteen year olds. Black also managed to escape the Dementors that night and he has been hiding ever since.

However he died going to the rescue of his godson Harry Potter, who was lured to the department of Mysteries by the Dark Lord (for full story see earlier prints of the Daily Prophet). It is right to believe that Peter Pettigrew is still alive and is at the hand of the Dark Lord again. Peter Pettigrew helped the Dark Lord rise for the second time two years ago, which is what Harry Potter proclaimed to be the truth. The Minister makes only one comment: "I am terribly sorry."

A sudden creaking of floor boards told Harry that his aunt, uncle, or cousin was awake, and his mind suddenly landed back in the real world. He was lying on his back staring at the ceiling, which he did often these days. The daily Prophet article lay loosely in his hand. He sat up and examined his room. Hedwig was gone and, looking out the window he saw a clear blue, sunny sky.

He stood up and mindlessly got dressed. He wondered what the day had planned for him, other than writing to the members of The Order of the Phoenix to assure them that he was not being mistreated. At the end of last year they had showed up to have a chat with the Dursleys about how Harry was to be treated, in which Dudley had left clutching his backside, Aunt Petunia looking positively offended, and Uncle Vernon intimidated, such as Mad-eye and the others had intended. Although instead of being better treated he was now completely non-existent. He wasn't sure whether that was due to infinite fear or loathing, but it suited him better than being scowled at.

As he walked across the room to the door, he felt something brush his ear and land on his shoulder. It was the arrival of his copy of the Daily Prophet, delivered by the owl that had taken on the job of delivering to him. He untied the newspaper and rummaged through his trunk to find money to pay the owl. He paused for a moment as he came across the broken shards of glass that had once been a two-way mirror from Sirius. Hearing a hoot of impatience from the owl he retrieved his money and dropped it into the little sack on the owl's leg. It immediately took off through the open window and he proceeded to the kitchen, scanning the paper for any news on Voldemort. He didn't have to search long, for he found what he was looking for within seconds. He stopped in mid-step and read:

AN ENCORE ESCAPE

Word came to the Ministry of Magic yesterday, July 13th, of the second escape of the captured supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, also known as, Death Eaters. Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, wearily states "We have been expecting this escape ever since the Dementors stopped taking orders from the Ministry,"

As the public knows they were replaced by Aurors, but they apparently were not sufficient. The Minister continues "Word has also come to our ears that not only did the Death Eaters leave, but Azkaban now only consists of four prisoners". The Minister said no more.

The escaped convicts of Azkaban include Lucius Malfoy; Bellatrix, Rabastan and, Rodolphus Lestrange; Walden Macnair; Mulciber; Nott; Crabbe; Goyle; Augustus

Rookwood; Jugson; Antonin Dolohov; Avery; Mark Riley; Gregson Parks; Gorbella Auldon; Stanley Hornback…

Harry hurriedly skipped through the rest of the names and read on.

…The Ministry is now sending out many representatives, including Aurors, to look for the prisoners. It is unknown where they have all gone or if the escape of the prisoners who weren't Death Eaters had anything to with the escape of the prisoners who were. They may have escaped under the influence of the Dark Lord, but he, also, has not been recently sighted.

The Ministry is giving a thousand galleon reward to the capture of any of those mentioned above, and highly urge everyone not to panic, but to be on guard for these people. Further information on the finding of the escapees will be printed in the following copies of the Daily Prophet.

Harry was not sure whether he should be shocked or not. Dumbledore had been forever predicting this so Harry had been well prepared for this news. The only thing that bothered him as he sat down in the kitchen was the escape of the non- Death Eaters. Was Voldemort gathering more followers that easily? Had the Death Eaters convinced them in the blink of an eye, or were they forced and under the Imperius Curse? He thought to himself for a moment and decided not to worry about it. He only hoped that the Order had gathered as many followers as Voldemort.

He put down the Daily Prophet after realizing that there was no other interesting news, and only then realized who it was that had made the floorboards creak. Aunt Petunia was making coffee and apparently hadn't noticed him either, unless she had and was refusing to show signs of it. Harry walked over to the couch and turned on the television. Unlike usual there was no objection. In fact, this was the first time that he had been in control of the TV converter. He flicked through the channels stopping here and there once in a while though he was paying absolutely no attention…

The sun was shining, the glare of the light beating down upon the ruthlessly evil companions of Lord Voldemort. A cold silence filled the air. There was no sign of humanity, as though people had never dared to live here. The air was damp and cold and it pressed down making the pressure unbearable. He walked nearer to the hill where there sat an old house, and turned opposite it, to face a vast field of graves. He rolled up the left sleeve of his tattered robes and pressed his fingers to his forearm. They were long and pale. Cracking noises filled the cold air surrounding him and near five dozen witches and wizards appeared at his side to form a circle much larger than it had been only a few days ago. He was pleased to see so many people gathered in his name. One by one they emerged and bent low to kiss the hem of his robes.-

"And now my friends, it is time to bring back those who died for our cause. It is time…"

He pulled out his wand, his pale, skeletally thin figers running over the smooth surface. He looked into the puddle at his feet to see his scarlet eyes staring back at him. He was breathing shallowly, as though he was afraid, but then he was afraid of nothing. Pointing at the pile of logs that the Death Eaters and Prisoners had piled at his feet, he whispered

"Inflamaré." Flames shot onto the wood, and it cracked and hissed as it began to burn. The Death Eaters backed away silently. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a packet of blue coloured herbs and dropped them over the fire. Instantly the fire blazed upward ten feet, and turned a dark, dazzling blue. Like Wormtail had done previously to his father's remains he pulled out his wand, pointed it at the ground.

"Flesh of our allies you shall be restored…" Dust rose from a crack in the ground and poured into the fire. Sparks flew into the air, and one by one the faces of his old supporters shot into the sky like fireworks. Evan Rosier was leering down upon them as though he was already alive. Travers looked still frozen in death, his eyes closed and his face rotting. Wilkes was pale but grinning, as though he knew what was about to happen. Mistral Cape, Tika Bothamely, Cristophe Ferutia were mere shadows as though their remains had been buried so long nothing was left.

He rolled back his sleeves.

"Give me the knife, and form a line, Death Eaters." Avery was the first in line. He pulled his arm out of his sleeve, and drew the knife horizontally across Avery's arm, cutting a deep gash that gushed blood, as he held it across the fire. It turned black suddenly and the faces disappeared. Avery cried out in pain, but remained standing.

"Next." His voice was amused, but deadly serious. Bellatrix walked forward unsteadily and held out her arm. He repeated the same process and dropped the blood into the fire. One by one every Death Eater shared their blood until the ground was shining in the dark. His terrible voice filled the air.

"You were united in life, now you shall be united in death," The Death Eaters dropped to the ground immediately, and lay deathly still. The prisoners cowered, fighting to get away from the terrible scene in front of them. "Blood of the master given in life to those in death, you shall unite your army. Return to your master."

He slit his own arm and held it over the flames.

"Resurrecto." A huge explosion rocked the earth. The ground crumbled and spewed in all directions. Blinding lights flashed unendingly in the night, and where there Death Eaters had fallen in death, they were now revived but now there were many more. The bodies of the dead were some how restored to their old appearances, and all of them were grinning madly, as their master had finally broken through the bonds of death. They dove to his feet, and kissed his robes.

"So, now you have seen true power, those that were dead are now alive, united. We will never be broken again." He whispered to the silent crowd. He raised his wand to the sky; his eyes still blinded by the explosion, and whispered one word.

"Morsmordre." The sky erupted in green light. A skull with a snake protruding hovered above them, and the faces of his followers were lit with green light.

At the same time green light flashed beneath his eyelids and his scar burned into his forehead, making him want to retch with pain. He realized he was on the ground and made himself take a few deep breaths. Miraculously he managed not to scream, although somewhere behind him someone let out a horrible screech. He rose from the floor, noticing that his shirt was sticking to him, and whipped around in time to see aunt Petunia bent low over the Daily Prophet article he had left on the table before she pulled her head away as to deny that she had taken any notice of him or his paper. Another hot-white feeling burst through his scar, but he ignored it as usual. He was shocked and panic-stricken, and could care less that Aunt Petunia had read the Daily Prophet, but the Dark Lord had conceived a plan that no one was aware of, but him. His dead followers were back. He now had an army even greater than anyone imagined. Harry's mind raced. Not only could Voldemort put a stopper in death, but change death to life. Rosier, Travers, Wilkes, Cape, Bothamley, and Ferutia had been the ones…dead…but now alive.

Would I have seen that if I had done occlumency? He wondered to himself. How could he trust that what he was seeing was true? His head spun with indecision, he had already made a fatal decision before that had stolen the life of his godfather. Harry was tired of making decisions. It seemed pointless, everything he did was wrong, but his dream was still nagging at him. What if what he had seen had been real? That meant he was the only one apart from Voldemort who knew what had just happened. He needed Hedwig desperately, but she was not here. Trembling, knowing that this could all be a trap he realized what he had to do. He had to alert the Order. Even if his dream was not real they should still know Voldemort was still connected to him. He walked briskly over to the door, heading for the street where he could catch the night bus to... to where? Realizing that he had no idea where to find the order he sat down hard and buried his face in his hands.

"What's wrong?" asked Aunt Petunia, quite suddenly, but still a little coldly. She had of course noticed his expression of panic. "Does it have anything to do with the escape of those people in prison?" she asked nervously.

"Well no, but I just-just realized that I have to go away." Harry didn't know why he wasn't telling her, but he wanted to get away as quickly as possible to tell someone who could actually help. He made to turn the doorknob, but Aunt Petunia squeezed his shoulder with her bony fingers as to stop him.

"NO, something's wrong. Tell me." She sounded desperate, and Harry was quite shocked. He turned to look at her.

Harry saw something funny behind those eyes that had once reflected such malicious emotions, and now looked worried, beyond any worry Aunt Petunia had ever shown.

"Voldemort just brought his dead followers, Rosier, Wilkes, Travers, and a few others back to life," said Harry quickly. He made for the door again, but Aunt Petunia screamed.

"What?" she spat with a look of mingled horror and disgust.

"Yeah, he's that powerful," said Harry informingly.

"How d'you know? Who told you?"

"I just saw it" This was the wrong thing to say, for Aunt Petunia would definitely think him delusional. He explained himself with difficulty, nearly jumping around with impatience. Voldemort was out there doing who knows what, while he was here explaining all this to Aunt Petunia while he should be talking to the Order of the Phoenix. He sighed, and tried to pull his arm free of Petunia's death grip, but couldn't succeed. He was impressed by how strong she was.

"Well... me and Voldemort are connected by my-my scar, so… I sometimes see what he's doing...or feel what he f-feels."

The end of his speech came with a high-pitched squeak. Aunt Petunia apparently hadn't taken that news any better than the first bit. She, horrified, uttered three words before hitting the floor. '…escaped…connected…alive.'

Loud thumping noises came down the stairs and Harry knew he was in for it. He jumped back from the door, just in time for Uncle Vernon to come pelting through it.

"What have you done to her, boy!" barked Uncle Vernon furiously.

"Nothing," replied Harry truthfully innocent.

Vernon knelt beside Petunia with a loud thud, and Harry felt a flash of vibration in his feet (the cause of Uncle Vernon's dramatic fall to the floor). He mumbled to Aunt Petunia in a low, whisper of a voice.

"Petunia, are you all right, dear? Tell me what he's done. I'll have him for it, sweetums." When she didn't reply he continued. "Did he use his…thing…?" Again she said nothing. She just lay frozen on the floor, her eyes wide in horror. Dudley, the new arrival observed the unnerving seen with his mouth hanging open. His many chins, however, did not permit that extent to be very wide, but his expression of fear was evident nonetheless.

"Mummy," he said desperately.

Dudley turned his head to Harry and stared at him anxiously for what felt like hours. He turned his head to look at his father still mumbling bent over his mother, then back at Harry. Before Harry had the sense to move Dudley charged, knocking Harry over, sending him over the back of the couch and onto the floor.

"Stop it! Dudley! GET OFF!" he yelled breathlessly.

He pulled out his wand as Dudley punched him hard in the face. At the sight of it Dudley froze, his fist inches from Harry's stomach. Harry blinked many times until his vision was completely back in focus. All the hate he had ever felt towards Dudley pulsed through him again. He sat up as much as Dudley permitted him and he realized that Uncle Vernon hadn't noticed a single thing. Harry now felt a throbbing pain growing in the side of his head, but worse was the weight of a young killer whale on top of him suffocating him.

"Move. Now!" Harry insisted. He couldn't breathe and the blood was rushing to his face as he gasped for breath. His cousin however was thoroughly enjoying this, knowing that Harry couldn't use his wand anyway. Harry's wand was now barely a threat to the Dursleys because they knew that he knew that they knew that he wouldn't use his wand again, having had too many occasions on which he could have been expelled from Hogwarts. It wasn't until Aunt Petunia's shaky voice drifted through the air that Dudley sprawled off the floor to his mother's side.

"That". She pointed to the article lying on the table.

"What is it, dear?" asked Uncle Vernon. He looked at it, squinting, with a deep look of disgust on his face. The answer, however, came from Harry.

"Voldemort's Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban prison, and he brought back his dead ones from the dead."

"And what in the bloody hell are Death Eaters?" he snapped back. But this time his answer came from Aunt Petunia.

"They're supporters of the one who killed his parents". She pointed to Harry, still staring into mid-air. "They all have a mark on their left arms that calls them to him when he wants them."

There was a pause in which Uncle Vernon looked completely puzzled, and Dudley frightened. Harry presumed he was trying to get over the fact that his mother had spent all the years of her life pretending that the wizarding world didn't exist, and now suddenly was uttering the words expressionlessly, without chewing her tongue and without a deep look of loathing. Then it struck Harry.

"Hang on a minute. You knew what Dementors were and what Azkaban was. How do you know what Death Eaters are, and how do you know about the Dark Mark?"

There was another pause before a scowl.

"My mother boasted all the time about how talented and perfect my sister was." Aunt Petunia was no longer on the floor, but scowling in Harry's direction. "I was never good enough! NEVER! It was always my dear sister who got all the recognition." Her eyes were now red and watery. She continued. "I COULD NEVER DO ANYTHING!" Aunt Petunia took a deep breath. "I failed in pleasing my wart of a mother, and I never got to go to any special school, which my mother never ceased to remind me! I– AM- A- SQUIB!" Aunt Petunia's face shone bright and wet as she uttered those words.

Harry now understood. "So that's why you're horrible to me…because you're jealous of my mother. You knew I would get the same opportunity that you were deprived of so you made my life hell. It all makes sense now!" Harry wasn't sure whether he was angry, or whether he pitied Aunt Petunia. "Well my mother's dead anyway, so you should be quite pleased," he uttered again. Surprisingly, he said this without a tear. He made for the door a third time, and stopped yet again.

"I killed her," spat Aunt Petunia.

"What?" said the three of them in unison.

Harry's brain was about to explode. It couldn't be.

"Voldemort killed my parents," said Harry, his voice rising slightly at the mention of Voldemort.

"His Death Eaters, Bella and someone else, came to my house to ask me where your mother was." She started to tremble. "They were going to kill her and her husband."

After a pause of anticipation, she continued.

"I told them that I didn't know…but they didn't believe me". Her eyes started bulging yet again, and she plainly continued to stare. "Then I felt pain beyond pain. They tortured me without touching me. They used—their wands." She gasped for breath, and held on to the table for support. It was like she was breaking down. "I couldn't resist, so I screamed…the Longbottoms. I knew that's who she was staying with, I just didn't know where. That was when they stopped, and lifted up their left sleeves, looking at something black. They said not a word, and left."

There was what felt like ten minutes before anyone spoke. That was Harry.

"You…" So far that was all he could manage. His head was reeling. Petunia had done nothing? "You… told about the Longbottoms. They wouldn't tell, so he tortured them too. He got the information from Wormtail in the end, and he murdered my parents, and diminished. The second time, Bella and someone else went for the Longbottoms again to force them to say where Voldemort was after he diminished." He didn't know who he was talking to, but continued anyways. "They were tortured into insanity…all thanks to…you!"

Harry kept quite calm considering the situation. Suddenly he was overcome with exhaustion. There were so many actions, so many consequences. Who was he to judge Aunt Petunia? Harry had had enough of death, he felt tears forming in his eyes, but he brushed them back impatiently. How could he be sure he would not have done the same thing? He was no longer angry at Petunia. Somehow since Sirius had died he felt detached, like he was watching everything happening to him from a distance. He had become calmer, more observant, and more thoughtful. Dumbledore would have called him wise, but that did not even cross Harry's mind. A few weeks ago he would have wanted to strangle Aunt Petunia, but now all he could muster was a sad sense of pity. All three Dursleys were staring at him. No one could find anything to say. Harry knew Uncle Vernon didn't want to believe what Aunt Petunia had just said, and Harry doubted whether Dudley had even understood a word of it. Harry's mind snapped back to his current problem. Hedwig was not back so he had no means of contacting the others to tell them what had happened. He would have to leave. Once again Harry broke the silence.

"Write to Dumbledore," said Harry, "and tell him that I'm taking the Knight Bus to…" He stopped. Where was he going to go? "Well, just tell him that I'm leaving…to give a warning," and with that Harry shot out of the kitchen and up to his bedroom.

Harry grabbed his trunk and threw everything inside it hurriedly. He shoved his wand back in his pocket, and rushed over to Hedwig's cage. He threw one last glance around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, and bolted out of the room using the locomotor charm to carry his trunk. He opened the door and burst through it, taking notice of nothing but two voices, one screaming for him not to leave and the other a fresh curse. He froze in mid-air and fell to the ground along with his trunk.