Chapter 1- Whisked Away
The sky was blue. A beautiful, bright blue. Birds chirped in the trees, reveling in the late summer breeze. A lone boy, about 15 years old, with unruly dark hair and old round glasses, sat on a lone swing set in an empty park, watching the beautiful English weather.
It was mocking him.
No matter how pretty the weather was, it wasn't able to pierce his depressed mood. Only a month ago, he had been forced to watch a friend die, and an enemy to return from near death.
The boy cursed softly before standing up to walk home.
Not that the hell-hole he lived in now could ever be called home.
The sun was starting to set when he turned onto a side alley shortcut.
Suddenly, the air chilled. Screams started to play in his head like a record. Two dark shapes swooped down towards him.
The screaming increased, driving the boy to his knees. The figures moved closer.
He collapsed. Taking one last look up, he saw a silver shape, unidentifiable through the frost on the glasses and the tears in his eyes, before Harry Potter blacked out.
He came to in a dark room. There were no lights or windows, and the ground he lay on was cold. No sounds met his ears.
He called out several times, and was rewarded on the third try. A dim bulb snapped on, revealing a very drab room. The walls were covered in ugly drab wallpaper, and the wood floor was almost black. Several old wooden chairs sat next to a large, and frankly forbidding, bookshelf. The light bulb hung bare from the grey ceiling.
"Hello, Harry."
The boy spun around to the chairs he had previously overlooked. One was occupied by an old man, his grey beard and odd purple robes identifying him easily.
"Hello, professor." Harry greeted Professor Dumbledore with a relieved smile.
"I saw you were in trouble and stepped in. You should be more careful." The old man chastised gently.
"Who sent the dementors?" Harry asked, ignoring the reprimand.
"Who else?" Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his eyes with a wrinkled hand.
Harry nodded, and silence fell between the boy and his mentor.
"He's really back." Harry mumbled. Dumbledore looked sadly at the boy he saw as a grandson. "I had hoped it was a bad dream." The boy laughed, but the sound was hollow.
"Yes, well… We need to talk about a few things of importance." Dumbledore began. "This attack on you has revealed certain problems. The first is that our enemy is more cunning than we feared. He also has a quite a few allies, more than we do. You are more important than many people know." Here he trailed off into thought.
"What do you mean, sir?" Harry asked, getting anxious.
Dumbledore sighed. "There was a prophecy, given just before you were born. It described a boy who would be born, and who would be destined to either destroy or be destroyed by Voldemort. The child was you." He looked at Harry, who had fallen completely silent.
"I have searched for loopholes, other children, other possibilities, for sixteen long years, but to no avail. I'm sorry." He sounded like he was trying to explain to himself, as well as the teen in front of him.
"Why now?" Harry was confounded. "Why me? WHY ME?!" He screamed, throwing several books off the shelf at the wall.
Dumbledore laughed mirthlessly. "Can you imagine how you would have reacted before now? I deemed you mature enough. And as for why you? Well, I don't know. This prophecy is the reason Voldemort targeted your parents. It is why he will never stop hunting you. But it also means that you are their instrument of vengeance, and avenger for the fallen. You will defeat him. I have faith."
These words did more to calm Harry down than anything else.
"So what now?" Dumbledore could see the resolve in the boy's eyes.
"These attacks are a problem. You are in danger, yes, but the bigger threat is to your friends." Harry instantly thought to his constant companions. Ron, always eating. Hermione, always reading. And…
"You know they will be targeted." Dumbledore cut through his thoughts. "They could be hurt, or worse." He left the words unsaid. But the meaning carried across. Harry gulped twice before speaking. "How should I do it?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in question.
"They mean more to me than anything else. But how can I get rid of them, to make them safe?"
"Oh, no, my dear boy!" Dumbledore laughed loudly. "No, you won't abandon your precious friends. Or maybe you will, in a sense…" He walked over to his protégé, putting a hand on his shoulder, the boy's tension melted away. "No, I am sending you away. You will be under the care of an old friend of mine. She will keep you safe, for the year you'll be there, at least. I have a plan for afterwards, but let's leave that for later, shall we?"
"Where am I going? And where the hell are we now?" Harry's curiosity finally caught up to him.
"This is the headquarters of my own little resistance force, the Order of the Phoenix. 12 Grimmauld place. It actually belongs to your godfather. He's around here somewhere, as are your friends. We brought them here to be safe after your incident. You will have a chance to see them before you have to leave. In fact, you shall have two hours from now. Meet me in the entrance hall then, and we shall take you to your new h… ome…" The ancient wizard had turned around to find the room empty, the door ajar. He chuckled softly at the resilience and energy of youth.
Harry quickly found his true family in the subterranean kitchen/basement. He was quickly pulled into a hug by just about every person in the room. Ron and Hermione quickly greeted him before returning to a previous argument. Ginny, Ron's little sister, blushed brightly before hugging Harry and retreating to the stove. The boy received several bone-crushing hugs, courtesy of the other Weasleys, and his very own godfather/escaped convict, Sirius Black. He spent most of the time explaining the situation, and getting introduced to the new faces around the room. These were all Order members, including a tall, black version of Mr. Clean, and an odd transforming woman who seemed to have less maturity than he did. The two, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks, both seemed nice, but very strange. Then again, most wizards were, reasoned Harry.
Eventually, the hectic two hours of eating and talking ended, and Harry was soon standing in the entrance hall awaiting his teacher. A nondescript duffel bag sat next to him, holding necessary clothes. The rest of the people in the house were piled around, waiting to say good-bye. The gloom weighed heavily on all of them.
Dumbledore strode into the room, and quickly spoke to Harry.
"Your escort should be arriving soon. He works for the woman you will be staying with."
Harry nodded before turning to say his farewells. He stepped up to Ron first, looking up at his first friend.
"Take care Ron. Don't have too much fun without me." The two laughed before sharing a quick embrace.
"Keep an eye on the lug for me, okay?" He turned to Hermione. The girl just smiled sadly and hugged him tight.
"Be safe, Harry." She whispered before letting go.
He went down the line, saying goodbye to the Weasley's, Sirius, and the Order members he had met. Finally, he turned back to Ron.
"Where's Ginny?"
Ron just shrugged, while Hermione smiled secretively. Neither answered.
"Whatever. Tell her I said goodbye, okay?" Hermione just continued to smile.
Harry walked back to Dumbledore, carrying his bag. The two quickly left the building, not looking back at the sadness and pain left behind.
They stepped onto the sidewalk, and Harry took one last look back at the building they had left. He caught a glimpse of dark red reflected from an upper window just before the sun set and the house was lost in the darkness.
'I'm gonna miss that color.' He started at the thought. Where in the world did that come from?
He never saw the new man appear ahead of them.
"Yo." He raised two fingers in greeting.
Harry started and looked forward at the man, illuminated by a streetlamp.
He was tall. Grey hair, poof-ed out, like he had stuck a finger in an electrical socket. He had an odd green vest and a black mask over his mouth and nose. A headband with a metal plate attached covered his left eye.
"You're late, again." Dumbledore seemed to reprimand, but the smile indicated otherwise.
"My apologies. I got lost on the road of life." The man sounded lazy, and his lackadaisical posture seemed to confirm it.
"It's good to see you again, Kakashi." Dumbledore grasped the man's hand in a firm grip.
"You, too, Dumbledore-san. Is this the boy?"
"Indeed. Harry Potter, meet Kakashi Hatake."
"Well, we need to go, Potter-san." Kakashi pulled out a head band, similar to his own, and tossed it to Harry. The man made several hand signs in the instant the boy caught the object. Harry barely saw the symbol etched into the metal, a swirled leaf, before he felt the familiar tug of a portkey activating.