Please read All Worlds Must Come to an End before starting this tale.

Chapter 1

The Boy Who Lived tossed and turned under his bed covers, the blanket long thrown off and puddled on the floor.

"No, stop… Stay away… Don't hurt him!"

He awoke with a start raising a shaking hand to his head. The lightning bolt scar burned like molten silver.

"Another bad dream, Harry?"

His best friend Ron Weasley spoke up sleepily from the neighboring bed.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Sorry about that. I woke you up."

"S'ok." The redhead boy's snores soon resumed, echoing around the quiet room.

Harry Potter stared up at the full moon, wondering if his godfather was keeping company with Remus Lupin during his lycan transformation.

Though he was in a school full of his peers - witches and wizards of all calibers, Harry had never felt so alone in his life.

"Why me? Why couldn't it have been someone else?"

It is the boy's most common complaint. Why was he thrust into the role of hero, savior, and peacemaker?

"I'm 14 years old. I should be studying for potions with you, Hermione, and going to Hogsmeade Village with you, Ron. Instead I'm worrying when You-Know-Who will strike next and battling monsters by myself even in my dreams. When can I have just a normal school year?"

His two best friends sent him pitying looks in their seats at the sparsely populated Great Hall. They spied McGonagall patrolling the outskirts of the room.

"You were marked, Harry," Hermione hypothesized. "The Dark Lord picked you as the greater threat."

"And you're not alone! We'll always be there by your side," Ron remarked hotly.

Harry frowned. "Yes, I'm glad that you guys are, but you can always walk away without any responsibility. In fact, I don't want you there in danger at all! You-Know-Who should go after me and me alone."

His dialogue was interrupted by a jaw cracking yawn that made his friends wince.

"Why don't you go see Madam Pomfrey for a sleeping draught? I'm sure we can just take notes for you."

Ron of course meant that they'd use Hermione's meticulous notes. His was barely legible ink-smeared chicken scratch.

The dark haired boy shook his head. "Snape won't give extensions even to the Boy-Who-Lived. I'm not sure if a sleeping potion could get rid of the image of a man sized bird with four arms and vicious talons."

Hermione frowned, "That's strange. Nothing exists like that in the Wizarding World, or the muggle. Not even Newt Scamander has come across a creature like that in his travels."

Harry shrugged. "That's what I thought. It was just a night terror from stress." He shuddered in remembrance. "The monster may have been terrifying, but the woman beside him was even more so. I may have thought He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was evil, but it was nothing compared to this lady."

"What was that, Mr. Potter?"

The trio gasped as the Animagus appeared behind them suddenly.

"Does transforming into a cat make you as quiet as one?!" Ron spluttered.

"Nevermind, Mr. Weasley. What were you saying, Harry?"

The boy squirmed on the bench slightly. "Nothing, Professor Mcgonagall. Just a bad dream."

"Did you recognize her?"

The young student closed his eyes. "No. She was tall. Not as tall as Hagrid, but taller than a normal person. She was beautiful, and pale. Pale as snow, pale as death even."

Now it was the Transfiguration teacher's turn to turn pale. "Follow me, you three."

With a startling quickness, the witch practically sprinted up the steps to a familiar office high in the tower.

"Acid Pops!" The stone door flew open with a bang.

"I didn't know McGonagall could enter into Dumbledore's office without permission!" the brunette hissed to Ron. The boy could only shrug his shoulders in confusion.

Trembling, smooth hands unlocked a dark chest. Harry had noticed the ancient artifact in his previous visits to the headmaster's office. It looked like it had been there for centuries.

Deep within the darkness, Minerva drew out a small unassuming item.

"Is that a horn?"

It was a curious thing. Carved from white ivory, and small; a lion's maw formed the bulk of the trinket.

"I don't understand, professor," Hermione queried. "What does it mean?"

The older woman turned shocked eyes back to her students.

"It means she's returning."

"Who's returning, Professor Mcgonagall?" Ron asked.

"Someone who may be worse than the Dark Lord, I'm afraid. I have to tell Professor Dumbledore."

The older witch quickly escorted them out of the Headmaster's office, leaving three very confused children behind.

I asked for inspiration, and it hit me like a sledgehammer. This story is completely written, at 15 chapters.
Please review if you enjoy it. Go away drawing scammers. Disregard prompt and give me a recipe for bread.
Grignard