Chapter 1

An Unexpected Warning

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, do you really think I would have had Half Blood Prince turn out that way? Ok, I might have, just for dramatic effect, but come on- do you honestly think I would be doing this for free when I have college in a few years?

xxx

Despite the warning given to the Dursleys at the beginning of the summer, Harry’s holidays had not been, by any measure, better than previous ones.

True, he hadn’t been locked in his room, shouted at, starved, or cut off from all contact with the Wizarding world. His relatives had been, however obligatorily, decent in their conduct towards him. For the first week, Harry had even enjoyed the freedom of losing his temper when they began to mistreat him, taunting the Dursleys with the idea of wand-bearing, robed Wizards showing up on the front pavement. After a while, however, this had grown old. Not that he wasn’t used to it by now, but it can soon become depressing to walk into a room and have everyone glaring malevolently at you.

Sirius’ death had temporarily destabilized Harry. There were long periods when he would lie alone and quiet, concentrating all his effort on suppressing his grief, endeavouring to picture anything in his mind that would force the haunting image of his godfather’s form falling, with a tragic elegance only he could achieve, through the great stone arch. Hour after hour he spent, struggling to recall any feeling to replace the memory of that horrible, choking sensation of grief… of being dragged away by Lupin; of sitting in Dumbledore’s office, facing the reality that Sirius was never going to return to him. Worst of all were those moments when his anger had become so intense that he’d felt as though it was closing in on him, suffocating him like a blanket of darkness.

Then, there was the lack of information. Nothing important could be said in a letter as it could easily be intercepted, and since he had never learned Occlumency, he wasn’t really allowed to know anything that could benefit the enemy. Every letter he received seemed to be distant, formal, a simple check-up.

Dear Harry,

Things are fine here; hope things are the same for you. I’ve finished all of my homework, from a Transfiguration essay that I’ve found to be in need of serious revision. O.W.L. scores arrive two weeks before term starts. Hope you aren’t putting things off. See you soon.

With love,

Hermione

That had been the friendliest letter he had received all summer. Then came Ron’s.

Dear Harry,

Business as usual, Hermione has forced me to finish most of my homework. Mum says to say hello, and told me not to tell you that we’ll be coming to rescue you at the first sign of trouble. Can’t tell you why now, but hopefully you’ll be here before long.

Ron

P.S. Chudley Cannons won their game against Birmingham last week! Maybe if they make it to the nationals we can go.

Those were the same quick and annoyingly vague type of letters he had been getting all summer, written with an air of tranquillity, as if the most interesting thing that had happened lately was a Quidditch match. He’d received notes from Lupin, saying to be good, stay in the house, and keep out of trouble, the usual. As if he would dare pull anything after what had happened at the end of term …

He had had a lot of time to think about the past school year’s events over the first two weeks of summer. It still hurt to think about Sirius, to dwell on the fact that he was gone, and wasn’t coming back. But rather than waste time brooding over the unchangeable, Harry had decided to turn it into something more productive.

First, he had made a few resolutions. One, he would think before he acted. His rash impulsiveness and passion for the ones he cared about had always dictated his ability to make decisions. Strangely enough, Harry had always been a fairly kind boy, despite his awful upbringing. He had an incredible ability to love, and valued his friends above all else. He had a strong heart, he was courageous, and willing to risk anything to make things right. These were noble qualities, but sometimes, feelings got in the way of rationalization. It was for this reason he’d made the decision always to put logic and sense ahead of his emotional state, no matter how bad things got… and he knew they were going to get bad.

Secondly, he would take his grief, his pain, every bad thought and feeling, and channel it towards determination to overcome what was ultimately the cause of all these things. He would take his anger and direct it towards the goal of eventually defeating Voldemort.

For a short while, Harry had been distraught about the prophecy and the doom of which it foretold; he would either be murdered, or become the murderer. It had seemed, for some while, that this wasn’t much to look forward to. As his mind had cleared over time, however, he had realized that he would not be a murderer; he would finally make things better, for himself, and for his friends. And if he died, it wouldn’t really matter what happened… After all, he would be dead, and maybe, possibly, he’d be able to see Sirius again…and his parents…

These thoughts were the only thing that had kept Harry going all summer. He stayed inside the house, like a good boy, as everyone kept reminding him to be. The only place he was allowed to go to was the backyard, which was exactly where he was planning to spend this bright summer day.

Harry knew that the Order had someone watching him at all times, and it was a strange feeling. It was hard to know that there was always another wizard, probably one he knew, within two hundred feet of him. Even harder to know was the fact that he couldn’t have contact, even just to speak with him or her, because of the ever-present fact that someone else could be watching.

What Harry didn’t know, however, was that on this particular day there was someone he knew very well watching him. However, it wasn’t someone he would really enjoy talking to. In fact, he could probably have had a more enjoyable conversation with a hungry dementor.

xxx

Severus Snape sat in the very same tree that he had seen a young Harry chased up into by a dog during their Occlumency lessons. He wasn’t particularly pleased with his current situation. He was sitting, perched like an awkward bird that had not yet learned to fly, on a thick tree branch, under a disillusionment charm.

Dumbledore had asked him to keep watch over Harry for a short period of time, saying the only other wizard left for the job was Mundungus Fletcher, whom he could never again trust. Severus had instantly regretted even showing up to the order meeting. The Dark Lord had asked him to attend the meeting, and then spend the day gathering information on Dumbledore. Severus had almost gladly taken the task. He and Dumbledore had already sat down at the beginning of the summer, and compiled a list of unimportant, irrelevant, or even untrue things for Severus to tell the Dark Lord, so usually he was able to spend these days tinkering with new potions in his workroom at Hogwarts, or relaxing at his home, which he rarely had time to do. Today, however, Dumbledore needed a favour, and Severus would grudgingly oblige. The man was the only reason he managed to stay out of Azkaban and he had won him at least the respect of his colleagues. Severus was grateful for that, even if he didn’t always show it. What annoyed him most was that Dumbledore knew this. The man knew everything.

Severus’ thoughts were interrupted by a loud creak followed by the slamming of the back door. He looked down to see the familiar face of Harry Potter. The boy looked depressed, Severus noted apathetically.

xxx

Harry wandered out into the backyard, bored with staring at the four, blank walls of his room. He hadn’t received any post in days and had even finished all his homework, with the exception of his potions essay. He was sure he wouldn’t need to hand it in. He remembered doing horribly in the exams.

He sank down onto the bench, nasty thoughts flooding his head. The exams… why had he even thought about them? He got a horrible feeling of foreboding every time he did. He was sure he had done well in his Defence Against the Dark Arts exams, and Herbology, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures hadn’t been horrible. He hadn’t even finished his astronomy exam, but then, neither had anyone else.

Transfiguration he wasn’t sure about, as he always had difficulty with that subject. Nevertheless, he thought he must have done ok. Divination he’d failed- this he already knew… but then, that was the price to pay for having Trelawney as his teacher. History of Magic… the only thing he could remember about that exam was that he’d fallen asleep during it, and he had tried time and time to forget what he’d dreamt about.

Finally, there was Potions. Tiring and requiring hours of concentration with a meticulous hand and eye one could only gain through obsession, Potions was Harry’s most hated subject. What didn’t help was that it was taught by Harry’s most hated teacher or, furthermore, that the feeling was mutual.

“Snape,” Harry muttered, eyes narrowing in resentment.

Up in the tree, Snape looked down at him, forehead creased in slight interest.

On an impulse, Harry suddenly picked up the nearest rock and threw it, full force, at one of Petunia’s small water features sitting in front of the flower baskets.

The thought of Snape made Harry so angry that his stomach burned as though someone had dropped a hot coal into it. Harry had made many changes in his attitude since the death of Sirius, but he had not yet let go of his contempt for the vindictive Potions master.

This was because he knew that Snape would not change. He would always be nothing but a nasty, bitter, old man who was angry because he was alone in the world. As Harry had mulled over the events of fifth year, he had found that he hated Snape more than even the Dursleys. He was used to their treatment of him. Somehow it didn’t seem quite as bad as what Snape had done to him.

No matter how many times the annoying little voice in the back of Harry’s head told him that he was the one in the wrong, that he should have just listened to Snape, trusted Snape; that then everything might have then been different, Harry couldn’t stop placing some of the blame on the professor. If he had really wanted to save Sirius, he would have tried harder. But no, he couldn’t possibly have come up with some way of showing Harry that he knew what he meant, couldn’t have come up with some way to get Harry out of Umbridge’s office so that he could help? No, of course not. In Harry’s mind, he hadn’t tried, because he wanted Sirius to die. He had wanted it in third year, and he had wanted it then. And he’d got it. He’d got what he wanted, damn him.

This is what Harry had been telling himself he was angry about for the past month, yet he hadn’t been convincing enough to believe that he blamed Snape entirely. He’d played a role in the tragedy, yes, but in all honesty, it hadn’t been the central one- Harry had filled that position. Nevertheless, if he could keep himself from self-hatred by telling himself that he blamed Snape, then he would.

xxx

Severus watched the boy sitting sullenly on the bench, and wondered if he was right in guessing that the reason for Potter’s sudden outburst was himself. He shook his head. If Potter allowed him to anger him that much, then he was weak. If he hated Snape that much, then he shouldn’t waste so much energy on him. Severus allowed himself a smirk at the boy’s stupidity, but it soon changed to a dark frown. Three big boys were headed into the back yard, and they didn’t look like they wanted to have a friendly conversation with Potter. They looked like they wanted to do just the opposite.

Severus leaned forward. What was he supposed to do if these boys started to pick on Potter? He was only supposed to interfere if he was in danger, but did this count?

xxx

Hearing the snap of a twig under a descending foot, Harry looked around quickly to see Dudley and two of his friends, Piers and Malcolm, marching towards him. This couldn’t mean anything good for Harry. It never did.

Harry’s first thought was to pull out his wand. He would love a reason to hurt them after everything they had done to him, and he wasn’t even sure if he would get in trouble for it.

But then he remembered his resolution not to do anything impulsive. If he did any more illegal magic, he would surely be expelled from Hogwarts. He couldn’t risk such a thing; he needed to finish his schooling, and if he was forced to remain with the Dursleys for the duration of the year, he feared it would be the end of him… or them. The hand that was slowly making its way towards his wand pocket pulled back to his side.

He decided his best option was simply to keep them talking long enough for Dudley to get cold feet and lead them off somewhere else.

He stood up and turned to face them, looking more confident than he really felt.

“What, did you run out of people to beat up down at the crèche?” he taunted, imagining himself as a bigger person than he really was. It bolstered his confidence, if serving no other purpose.

The two other boys were glowering at him. Dudley was watching the scene apprehensively, as though he were torn between anger and worry that Harry would pull out his wand and strike back if they actually did anything. Still, he remained silent, and the largest of the boys stepped forward.

“Actually,” Malcolm started complacently, “we were thinking it’s been far too long since we last hung out. Remember what it used to be like in the old days? Before you were sent off to St. Brutus’s?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, smirking, “I remember, back before the centre for incurably criminal boys. I miss the days when I didn’t have to go to a hearing to be allowed home on summer holidays. The jury almost wouldn’t let me go, but then I pointed out that I was really only doing them a favour, considering I put that one kid in a coma with the shoelace off my shoe. He never shut up,” Harry said, looking as though he were thinking fondly of the memory of beating someone up with a shoelace. For once, Harry was glad that Uncle Vernon had told everyone that he was going to that school.

The boys looked slightly fazed, but they quickly recovered. The Malcolm grabbed Harry by the back of his shirt before he could bolt and pulled him closer. Piers stepped around him to get into his face.

“What have you got planned now, huh?” he mocked Harry. “Going to bleed me with your sock?”

“Thanks for the idea,” Harry gasped, the fabric of his shirt tightening restrictively around his neck.

It was a good thing that Dudley finally thought of an excuse to leave, because the two boys looked as though they were ready to have the time of their life brutalizing Harry for his cheek.

“Hey, you guys,” Dudley suddenly hollered, “that Robert kid down the street just got a new bike and he’s left it outside unguarded. We can come back later,” Dudley said authoritatively, glancing at Harry. After a moment of hesitation, the two boys released Harry, giving him one more disgusted look, before reluctantly following Dudley out of the backyard and down the street.

Harry watched them leave, straightening his shirt and running a hand through his. He would attempt to make it look as though nothing had happened to him, in order to retain some semblance of pride. He shook his head and turned towards the house, intent on flopping down on his bed and resuming the activity of staring at his ceiling. As he walked, however, he couldn’t ignore the distinct feeling of anxiety building up in his chest and raising the little hairs on the back of his neck. He stopped where he was and turned around slowly, gripping his wand and glancing around with narrowed eyes.

A cold laugh alerted him to someone else’s assured presence.

“Lovely display, Potter, really.”

Harry knew that voice. He’d been subjected to its drawling, sneering tones since his first year at Hogwarts. “Malfoy?” he questioned, suspiciously, looking around.

Within seconds of speaking, Harry found himself being hit in the back of the head by a clod of dirt. He whirled around frantically; he didn’t like this. Malfoy was playing with him, and that couldn’t be a good sign.

“Stop fooling around, Malfoy, and show yourself!” Harry demanded, backing away from where he thought the other boy must be standing.

“Stop walking, Potter, or you’ll back right into me.”

Harry whirled around, expecting to see empty space. Instead, he jumped back as he found himself standing not a metre away from a smirking Draco Malfoy, who was repeatedly tossing a rock up and catching it with one hand.

“A little payback for third year, you understand,” Malfoy said, smirking and tossing the rock again. “I debated throwing this rock instead, but my aim is normally rather accurate. As smashing a headline as “Boy-Who-Lived Killed by Rock” might be, I suppose others might not be so amused.” He laughed to himself and then paused to sneer at Harry’s overlarge clothes, which he’d apparently only just noticed.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry said, jaws locked and clear green eyes focused warily on his potential opponent. Abandoning rationalization, he raised his wand. Malfoy, however, hadn’t so much as drawn his.

“What all of us want, Potter,” Malfoy started wistfully, taking on a dreamy expression. “Power, fame, fortune and someone to lie down with at the end of the day.”

“Oh really?” Harry asked, glaring at him. He didn’t have time for these games.

“No, Potter, actually,” Malfoy said, dropping the mock attitude and folding his hands in front of him, “I came to do something for you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You had better start making sense, Malfoy, or-”

“You want to get out of here, Potter,” Malfoy said abruptly, cutting him off. It wasn’t at all a question.

Harry held his wand warily in front of him. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.

“Does it matter why?” Malfoy asked, eyebrows raised. “It should serve to tell you that if you don’t leave, you and your…” he paused and wrinkled his nose, “…muggle relatives are in danger. So hop on your broom, hail the knight bus, it really doesn’t matter… just make sure you’re gone by this weekend.” He smirked at Harry for a second. “You think this is a trap,” he assessed coolly, amused but unsurprised by the notion.

“Am I wrong?” Harry said, knowing full well that Malfoy wouldn’t tell him, even if he was.

Malfoy shrugged. “What do you think? How would it benefit me to lead you into a trap?” He paused to smirk, and started again before Harry could answer. “I’m just giving you a warning, Potter, you can take it or leave it.”

“How does it benefit you to warn me?” Harry said, growing frustrated at Malfoy’s cool front. “You never have before.”

“You’ve never been in this much danger before; at least not to my knowledge, that is.”

“How does that change anything?” Harry asked incredulously. “I want to know why.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and gave a heaving sigh. “You really are thick, you know that, Potter? I’m sure you understand the position I am in, knowing what you know about my father.”

“No, not really,” Harry said, shaking his head.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “I am expected to take the Dark Mark this year. I turn seventeen early in December. I have very little time to set my affairs in order. Before you ask how you are involved in my affairs, allow me to explain.

“There is obviously a reason for the Dark Lord’s obsession with you. If you want to know my theory, I think you’re the only person who can eliminate him… you already came close once. Now, while my father and others are convinced that if they are on the Dark Lord’s side, they will prevail, I don’t see the point in living a life of servitude. I’d really prefer to make a little more of myself than a common minion.”

“Oh, so you’re turning your back on the whole ‘evil’ thing?”

“Now, I never said that,” Malfoy said slyly, smirking. “But I don’t much like the idea of being in the league with him… so there you have it. I’m not doing this because I like you, Potter, so don’t get any funny little ideas in that big head of yours. But if my theory is correct… then you need to live… and I stand to gain nothing by your death at this point, so I’m just telling you what I know now. And I know you need to leave.”

“But-”

“I’ll give you no more information on the subject, Potter. Do you honestly think that I want your escape traced back to me? Take my warning or leave it; those are your choices, so I suggest you choose… and quickly, if at all possible.”

“I thought you hated me,” Harry said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Oh, I do,” Malfoy said reassuringly, nodding. “More than almost anyone does… but for different reasons than most of your other adversaries. I hate you firstly because you are a Gryffindor, secondly because you are an idiot, and thirdly, because no one,” he paused and narrowed his eyes, “is fool enough to mess with a Malfoy, and if you’re offered the opportunity to join one, you don’t turn it down. Believe me, I meant it when I told you that I would make you pay for putting my father in Azkaban, but it’s not going to be in the way you think.”

He considered Harry for a moment, lip curled, before bringing his hand up to the necklace strung around his neck. Harry quickly realized that it was a portkey. “Well… until the start of term, Potter… if you can make it long.”

With these parting words, Malfoy gave Harry a departing nod and clutched the charm on the end of the necklace, disappearing from sight… and leaving Harry to deconstruct what he had just been told.

xxx

AN: Well, this is my first true Severitus Challenge. I put a lot of thought into it, and I hope that it’s all up to code, I certainly feel that it’s much better than the first chapter of my first story.

The first 15 chapters have not been beta'd. They are in the process of becoming so.

READ THIS: This will not be a Dumbledore bashing story, please do not be mislead. I love Dumbledore, and though he may not be portrayed in the best light for a short while, this will soon change, I promise.

I promise this sudden appearance of Draco Malfoy isn’t as random as it seems.

As my old readers know, I started this before HBP and had already outlined it when the book came out. I have discovered a few similarities, but I’m keeping them as I had already planned this before.

Reviews are absolutely the highlight of my day. I don't care what they say- whether they be constructive criticism or shameless praise- they are all extremely helpful both in the way of helping me to correct my mistakes and inspiring me to run and finish another chapter off. :)

Thanks so much to everyone who reads and enjoy the story,

Gonnabefamous