Don't own… All the story characters, for now, belong to either Rowling or James Axeler. A lot of the consept belonging to this story also belong to James Axeler.

Harry stood up from his bed in the Dersely's. He walked to the mirror, looking at his pale reflection. His dream was one of vividness. He couldn't forget the blood, and the murder.

Harry has had dreams of Lord Voldamort before, however, none like this. He still, 20 minutes after starting awake, could feel the kiss Ginny planted on his dying lips. He settled his breathing, and passed his small room.

Harry Potter was turning 17 today. It was shortly after midnight he had the dream. He was no longer under the magical ward that was surrounding him in the Dersley's house. He heard his uncle cough. He sat at his desk, and wrote the dream in a book. He closed it, and placed it under the loose floorboard again.

With a jolt, he remembered it was his own birthday. A serge of fear washed through him. He wondered what he'd do without the magic? He decided he'd have to leave the Dersley's to protect them. He set his alarm, and fell asleep

He awoke with a start at 5:30 A.M, like he was supposed to on a normal day. Going downstairs, his aunt regarded him with a look of loathing.

"You woke me boy," she spat at him. Flecks of spittle flying from her mouth like the spray of a wave against the wind.

"Sorry. How did I wake you?"

"Screaming about "Ginny, how could you!" quite comical if I did say so myself. You're never one to scream out during a dream. What was it? Someone shooting rabbets they got out of a hat at the end of their, wand?"

Petunia spoke the last word with hatred in her voice. At that time, Dudley walked downstairs and began ravaging the fridge.

"Not yet sweety. Breakfast will be cooked, now Harry."

Harry sighed and got the pans out He threw down some bacon, eggs, and paced around the kitchen. Vernon came next, paper in hand, sitting at the table. Vernon didn't even regard Harry.

"I'm not going to eat today," he said swiftly. "Harry's cooking. The last few times I've been sick."

Harry knew this wasn't true. He had seen his uncle gag himself after eating. In a talk alone, it was "to rid myself of your magical poison."

Harry didn't understand this. Uncle Voldamort, no wait, Vernon, wasn't usually this harassing first thing in the morning.

"Maybe I'm just overdoing it. Maybe I'm just worried something will happen in the coming months. Maybe I'll go see my true family and relax."

"True family?"

"Yeah. You, Dudley, aren't true to me. The weesely's are my family. They've done more for me then you'll ever do."

Harry took the food off, and dished it out. Dudley, with 3 Twinkies in hand, put them on his over-filled plate and sat down to eat.

Harry surveyed the kitchen quietly. Vernon drinking his tea, Petunia eating pickily, and Dudley shoving whatever he can find into his open fat mouth. Harry, deciding he wasn't hungry, left for his room. Without much thought, he grabbed a piece of paper and decided to send a letter to Ron.

Dear Ron,

How are you? I just had a wicked dream. It was scary as fuck, but at the same time it was awesome. Graphic violence, and your sister were in it too. In fact, she killed you. Anyways, it's probably nothing. I did, after all, for fun, take one of Fred and George's dream modifying pills. It was probably that.

Anyways, How's things at the burrow. I'm thinking of coming earlier if you don't mind. It might be nothing, but I'm afraid to be here due to the magical word and all. Anyways, write me back bro.

Harry

He sent the letter off to Hedwig, cursing himself at lying to his friend. He didn't take one of those pills, and he didn't want anyone to worry over a stupid dream. It didn't happen here anyways.

Being the powerful wizard in everyone's eyes anyway, he would know if "Simba's", whatever they were, existed here. It wasn't so. He sighed, and opened a book and sat to read.

Later on that day, when his relatives where watching the evening news, he gathered his trunk, sneaking out through his window. He allowed his trunk to fall with a thud. Next came Hedwig's cage, crashing to fragments on his trunk.

Harry surveyed the sight below. He was on the second story. He was in a predicament. Not thinking, he launched himself out of the window, and landed, rolling, in the safety of Petunia's flowers. Getting up, he repaired his trunk and shattered cage.

"I can do that now. Cool."

He levitated the trunk, and set off through the darkness. He made a final trip by the park and sat on the swings. His belongings leaning on the slide reminded him of Ginny.

They were together not long before, and now? Now nothing. Harry had ruined that for himself. It's his own fault.

Shrugging mentally to clear his mind, he swung quietly.

"I can't go there," he said allowed, allowing his thoughts to land on the burrow. "Not with the words, and Voldamort wanting my death."

He contemplated where else he could go. Grimmald place was an option, however, he didn't know if sense the secret keeper was dead if it would still be unseen. He couldn't go there anyways. Serious lived there.

Pulling his trunk towards him, he opened it. Pulling out Serious' mirror, he gazed into it. He saw nothing but a mist of black.

"Serious. Why did you die on me? I didn't even get to say goodbye. Well, tell dad hi for me. I want you to tell them all you know about my friends and me. I'm sure mom would be upset about the time I got myself into the tri-wizard tournament, and all the other pranks, mischief, and everything else I've caused if she doesn't know all ready."

The mirror's blackness shifted. Harry didn't notice. He was looking out at the sky.

"It's upsetting. All my family dies. Maybe that's why I won't be with Ginny. What would you do serious? I'm afraid to even go to Bill's wedding. I don't want that to get messed up either. I seem to love causing trouble. Maybe I got too much from dad. Please, Serious, if you can hear me, take care, and goodbye."

Harry had never officially said goodbye. He looked down at the mirror now. He saw blackness. Wait a minute, no he didn't.

Harry almost dropped the mirror with what he saw in it.

A figure, too lean to be normal, stood there pacing slightly. Its domed skull was hairless. Leading to its squat neck, on lean, yet somehow frail, shoulders.

The arms and legs were too big for the torso. He noted the hands held 6 fingers instead of 5.

Harry noticed the most captivating feature were the eyes. Large, dark, and seemingly endless. Those eyes boar into his own. Harry was unable to take his gaze away from them.

"Harry Potter," the voice said calmly, yet with a hint of arrogance. "I am Ballam."

I know the story started off with a weird twist. Also, due to the image verification and my being blind, I can't log onto the site yet. I should have more then this chapter up by then, but we'll see. I hope everyone takes an interest in the story.

Should Harry get back with Ginny? Or should he not. If so, please let me know before I write him going to the burro. The next chapter will be interesting, although maybe a bit boring. I'm sorry. It'll help fill in some of the missing plot, and set up the story. Please review. Flamers, I do say, will find themselves dying horribly and miserably in the chapters to come, I assure you. Just something that might return the favor of a "u suck ass." At least tell me why I suck ass. Have fun, kids!