CHAPTER ONE

A thick coat of darkness was draped over Privet Drive, broken only by the flickers of light out of the end of the boy's wand. It didn't take a wizard to recognise the ferocity of the magic, it was as if it was just clawing to get out of him. As the boy stomped through the street heaving a leather case behind him, his grip on his wand grew tighter and tighter…

If there's something wrong with the bitch then there's something wrong with the pup!

Harry Potter's wand spewed out another jet of light. How dare his aunt say that? He could feel the anger shooting from his brain and becoming magic somewhere along the way. He knew he should have stopped it, but it just felt so good. And deep down, a part of him wanted a Muggle to see him. He dared a Muggle to come out and ask him what he was doing. Because at that moment in time his blood boiled, and it seemed rather silly deciding who it would be right to let it out on if a sacrifice appeared before him.

He hated Muggles. Every one he'd ever met — from Dudley's spineless slaves at school to the beasts he had for an aunt and uncle; and as for his dreadful Aunt Marge…

Harry's stern pace through the streets faltered as his feet shuffled beneath him. His lips twitched as the fiendish thought popped into his head… But still… the Dursleys would deserve it... of all people...

A part of Harry shrivelled in repulsion, the part he recognised as his inner Hermione.

Did you really just consider that? The part asked in quiet disgust, but Harry knew Hermione wouldn't get it. Every summer she returned to her two loving parents. Ron returned to his two loving parents. They didn't get it. They couldn't get it. They didn't get sick with nerves at the end of each year at the prospect of going home. Harry was very much alone in this predicament, and thus the only one whose judgement he could trust...

But what about your place at hogwarts? Don't you want to go back?

The image of Harry's aunt floating into the air took hold of his mind once more, and this time a full smile spread across his lips, quickly evolving into a maniacal giggle. Harry was so caught up in his thoughts that the rustling sound behind him went completely unnoticed.

"Since they're already going to snap my wand in half, I might as well have a little fun with it before they do," Harry said aloud, resolving himself once and for all.

He turned on his feet, then felt a jolt of terror as his eyes swept over the bushes across the road. Eyes. Two beady eyes. Harry looked back in an instant, but by now the bushes were empty, a lonely rustling being the only sign he hadn't imagined it.

Something was there.

Harry pulled out his wand. "Wingardium leviosa!" he whispered frantically at his case. It obediently rose off the ground and sped after Harry as his crashing heart took control of his legs, pelting back to Number 4, Privet Drive, the nearest refuge from the creature in the bush. He was grateful he'd sent Hedwig off flying, at least she was safe.

But it seemed the universe was conspiring against him; the moment he began to run, the floor began to shake — violently. It threw Harry off his feet, his case dropping with a thump as his focus on its magic shattered. The ministry! Could they know he had cast a spell THAT QUICKLY?

Harry grabbed his case and threw it, sending it crashing behind the nearest shrub. He then did the same to himself. He was hidden. The world continued to bounce, getting more violent with each passing second, until the most curious sensation spilled over Harry. The darkness of Privet Drive was broken by a speeding cornucopia of blue light, and Harry finally realised what the prickly sensation was. He was being tracked.

A humongous triple-decker bus sped into view, impossibly fitting onto the road.

"'Ello!" rang the voice of its conductor in Harry's direction.

Harry froze — all except for his hand, which rose to cover his mouth—

But another one got there first.

"Quietus!" whispered a rough voice behind him. Harry's eyes bulged as he realised he'd been trapped. His head pounded with terror to see which Auror had captured him, but the moment he began to turn the voice whispered, "Petrificus Totalus!", and Harry felt his muscles willingness to obey him sap from his body in an instant.

"Oi! Who's there!" rang the conductor's voice. So the conductor and the abductor weren't working together!? Then who was behind him?

Not two seconds after casting the spells, Harry heard his abductor grab his suitcase, then felt a strong arm wrap around his own.

"Don't let go," the abductor whispered, the only warning for the gut-wrenching experience which followed. The conductor's voice had been close — too close — when the brambles Harry had hid behind began to swirl out of shape. The ambient noises of the road became muffled, like his head had been dunked in water. He felt his insides swirl and he wanted more than anything to vomit but his body wouldn't obey him and—

It stopped. Harry's stiff feet found themselves plopping on concrete. Was that — was that Apparition? Harry desperately wanted to turn his head and get a look at his abductor but his eyes remained fixed on the two bland houses ahead of him, still the only part of him that was permitted movement being his frantically beating heart.

"Not long now..." the man said mostly to himself. Really, after two years in the wizarding world Harry should have been used to it, but he still mentally gawped as he watched the two massive houses inexplicabley part before him, revealing another dingy one squashed between them.

"Apologies," said the gruff voice of Harry's abductor behind him before saying, "Leviocorpus." Harry felt his feet rise off the ground and as he turned idly in the air he willed with all his might to get a look at his abductor's face, but the abductor tightened his control on the spell and pointed Harry's floating body towards the dingy mansion ahead.

Harry couldn't see a way out of the situation. Was this a Harry Potter fanatic? Was he about to be petrified and kept as a statue? Could he be a Death Eater?

As the door swung open, Harry's final theory seemed the most likely to be true. The house was draped in shadow after shadow. Muffled screams came from a covered portrait to the left of them. What sick person would do that to a portrait?

Harry was levitated into what looked like a dining room. Frankly, it was disgusting. And then Harry understood: this was an abandoned house. The abductor was about to trap Harry in here forever — or at least until Voldermort was back to finish him off. Would he be fed? Could Harry's magic keep him from starving if he wasn't?

On the table was a quill and two pieces of parchment, one of which was empty.

"Copy what you read onto the fresh piece," said the voice from behind him. Once Harry met the chair he felt the two spells that had been placed on him fade. He raised his hand and moved it towards the quill, swiping off its course at the last moment moving like a blur into Harry's robes and drawing his wand.

"Expelli—" Harry began, but he was outdone by the very same spell, only cast twice as fast. Harry strained his head to follow the path of his phoenix wand as it arced over his head, but felt magic take over once more as his neck was kept facing forward, the identity of his abductor remaining a mystery.

"Nice try," said the voice, and though Harry was sure he had to be wrong, he thought he detected a trace of pride in the statement. "Copy."

Harry saw no other option. He picked up the quill for real and began to copy what was written onto the empty parchment.

RON,

THE RAT MUST BE ENCAGED IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS LIFE OR DEATH. WILL EXPLAIN SHORTLY.

HARRY

What on earth? Was Harry even the goal of the abduction? Was — could he just be a way to get to Ron's rat?

"Good," said the voice. "Now give it to your owl. I know you have one. Give it no further instruction,"

"Hedwig!" Harry called obediently. A couple beats passed before a cattling rang many floors above, the snowy owl arriving a moment later. She held out her leg for the message to be attached. Harry gave her an extra stroke, just in case this was the last time he saw her. And then she was off, flying back through the house to the window she could sense.

"Thank you, Harry," said the abductor. "I have one other thing to show you."

A letter came fluttering down onto the table, though not completely intact. It read:

Dear Sirius,

Thank you, thank you, for Harry's birthday present! It was his favourite by far. One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself, You know it only rises about two feet off the ground, but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas (no complaints there). Of course, James thought it was funny, says he's going to be a great Quidditch player—

"You — you knew my parents..." Harry said incredulously. He turned to face the man, finally allowed, and all the displaced serenity he'd felt from the bizarreness of the situation evaporated in a moment. Standing there was a criminal he'd never expected to meet; a murderer who killed twelve innocent Muggles. Sirius Black.

"Harry!" the man said with a disarmingly familiar grin. "Oh Harry... It's so good to finally see you again..."