yeah, this is a different prologue, but the one i wrote before was missing a few things. i wrote it 2 years ago and i never re-read it so... i decided to redo the whole prologue. Dont worry though,it wont change the rest of the story. It's just that this prologue has a bit about the visions in it. OK so lets go:

"Close your eyes."

She did. At first, nothing happened; she just saw little pinpricks of red in the darkness.

Then came the light.

It was like an exploding rainbow of color. First a band of red that turned to orange and yellow, then it faded to a vibrant green which morphed to sky blue and a deep violet. The erupting bubble of color only lasted a second and then faded to a blinding whiteness that seemed to oppress her from all sides. She lost the air in her lungs and staggered a little but strong arms were holding her still.

She could hear a whispered spell like an echo from far away even though she knew that he was right behind her. But this was her vision, not his. She couldn't take others along for the ride. He may have been close by her but she was miles away.

Then the flood came.

First she saw a boy. She could not tell what he looked like because the vision was very blurry. She could see certain parts in perfect clarity however. The boy's hair, for example, was almost white. She could see every singe individual strand moving gently in the breeze. It smelled like autumn, the raw smell of rotting leaves as the last rays of sunlight left for the day. The boy's eyes were closed and he looked pensive, as if evaluating a decision he had just made. The rest was a hybrid of mixed colors, too distorted to see. Along with every flash or vision came unknown feelings. Here, she felt a mixture of happiness and completion, as if a great task had been finished. Did I make the right decision?

There was complete silence. A silence so loud she wanted to scream just to disturb it. Then came the rush of sound, like the crashing of water as it fell over rocks. It was a startling contrast to the silence and she gasped with the force of it.

The image faded and was replaced by another boy. No, not a boy, a man, she corrected herself. The look in his eyes was of wisdom and experience, and a great sadness. She was instantly intrigued and wanted to know why. Why does he cry? The focus was his eyes and mouth, which moved slowly to form incomprehensible words. But the feelings she got from seeing him were of pain and suffering. What can I do to make it stop? she asked herself. Nothing. The sound of crashing water ended and was yet again replaced with the screaming silence.

The next flash was clearer and more in focus, it was of a man in black. He walked past and it seemed like he left a bit of himself behind. It was the way his waist length hair was blowing in the wind and his long black cloak was trailing behind him like a slate-black cloud of doom. She heard the rustle of fabric as he walked past amplified by a hundred times, and she gasped again with the force of the sound and noted to herself to be prepared next time. The man was walking fast, as if in a hurry to get somewhere. With him came the feeling of excited tension, as if he brought news that was long awaited. What will he say?

The next vision was almost too blurry to see. She could hardly make out the different colors, but she could see red. Red was on the ground, seeping down like thick honey. Everything else was the perfect darkness; like a bottomless pit that holds unknown monsters. She could not see, but she could feel. She felt her hands plunge into the red and come out warm and sticky, she spread her fingers wide and felt the liquid stretch. All that was left was the screaming. It was in her head and it would not die. What have I done? A feeling of horror came over her and she felt like she would throw up. It was blood, she could tell.

The next vision was the opposite of the one that she just experienced. It was of serenity and solace. It was almost perfectly clear. She could see the falling sun setting over the reflecting water and speckling it with chippets of gold. The docks by the water held a small canoe and a boy sitting with his legs dangling over the side as he leaned back on his hands. His black hair had flecks of gold and yellow reflections of the sun. He was joined by a tall man with long black hair. He sat down beside the boy and they began to talk. What are we doing here? She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of birds in the trees.

She opened them and was greeted by a new vision, that of happiness and joy. It was a baby girl cuddled in the arms of her father. She was laughing at a story he had told and the look on his face was that of fascination. She is my hope. The sound of laughter still rung in her ears as she was hurled into a new vision.

This one was of the boy, the boy from the docks. She could tell by his hair. She looked into emerald green orbs and a small smile played on his lips. Catch me if you can. Wicked.

T.T.T

Harry Potter had finally finished the list of chores that Aunt Petunia had set him that afternoon. He was tired and sweaty from the manual labour and the heat, so he decided to cool himself off by sneaking ice cubes out of the freezer and making freezies outside on the lawn. He made sure that Aunt Petunia would not be able to find him if she tried to give him more chores so he went to his usual hiding spot by the fence. It was perfect because he could see everything that happened in the street and no one could see him because of the rose bush that hid him from view.

He took the fork that he had sneaked out of the kitchen and began to crush the ice with the pointed ends, taking out all of his frustration on the cubes. He was incredibly angry at Dumbledore for keeping secrets from him and at everyone else for not writing proper letters. He understood that they weren't allowed to write things in case they got intercepted but they could at least drop a few hints about how things were going at HQ.

So far all he got was 'It's all the same here. Hope to see you soon.' which he thought hardly qualified as a letter. Harry looked down at his cup of crushed ice and began to suck on a few of the bigger chunks. He leaned back against the fence and looked up at the sky.

It was an unusually hot summer. The residents of Privet Drive were all indoors for the lack of shade and the once green laws were nothing more than dried grass and moss. Harry grabbed a fistful of grass and pulled it out by the roots. He stared at the tiny little four-leaf clover that was clutched in his hand, and thought ironically of what he could wish for.

His first wish would be that Sirius would not be dead. He had gone over the tragic death of his godfather in his head a hundred times. He knew that it caused some kind of permanent psychological problems to do this but he couldn't help feeling that it was all his fault. Sirius would have wanted me to live on. Harry thought savagely. So he quickly diverted his attentions to other things.

It was this summer that they would be getting their OWL's and Harry for one, was very nervous. He knew that Hermione was probably freaking out at the prospect of getting her results back and the thought brought a smile to his lips. The summer was total crap and it was nice to have something happy to think about.

Harry lay down on the grass under the rose bush and watched the clouds go by. It wasn't everyday that he could just lie here and appreciate nature. The Dursley's didn't give him the chance. Petunia probably thought that if she gave him enough chores it would make him less magical. Well, sorry, Auntie, Harry thought sarcastically, no such luck.

Harry closed his eyes for a second and let them rest from the glare of the burning sun. He saw the imprint of the round blurry circle in the darkness behind his lids. He smiled and turned his head, only two more weeks until he got to go back to Hogwarts.

And with this thought he fell into a gentle slumber.

T.T.T

Charlie watched as the boy fell asleep under the rose bushes. She was perched in a tree, watching for any sign of her quarry. She had searched for the better part of the summer looking for the boy in her visions, and she had finally found him.

He looked a bit like a fallen savior. He had the grunge-misunderstood-sulky teenager look down pat. He wore ragged jeans and a white tank top accompanied by scuffed shoes and his hair had the I-just-got-out-of-bed-with-your-girlfriend look.

Charlie jumped out of the tree and landed on all fours on the pavement. She straightened up and scowled at the thought of Lucius seeing her now. How he would laugh! Hiding in trees now? What the bloody hell are you, a wood nymph? Charlotte Phoenix was not a wood nymph, thankyouverymuch. She just couldn't find any other way of keeping watch over the Raven boy without being seen.

She walked over to the rosebush with its occupant and stared down at the boy in the grass. She folded her knee length black and purple skirt under her and sat down like a princess in the grass beside the boy. She got out a clipboard from the messenger bag she carried everywhere and a piece of coal pencil.

She then proceeded to unzip her knee high black boots and placed them beside her on the grass. There was no use in wearing them in this heat. Her calves were already covered in a thin layer of sweat.

She watched the rise and fall of the Raven boy's chest and then began to draw…

TBC of course. tell me your thoughts.