Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from the HP series - not that clever - but I believe this plot is original

Prologue The Phone Call

Harry perched cautiously, like a bird ready for flight on one of Aunt Petunia's kitchen chairs. He shifted slightly and deliberately glanced up to gaze at the Dursleys as he picked up the phone receiver. With an internal smile of satisfaction he saw his Aunt and Uncle's exchange. Life at the Dursley's could not have been more pleasant, if that was possible, since Mad – Eye Moody's little 'chat' with his uncle at the train station.

With a smile of resignation, Harry remembered what he was supposed to be doing and slowly dialled a well rehearsed number. He waited while drumming his fingers on his lap, waiting for someone to answer on the other side. A few long drawn out seconds past and Harry was just about to hang up when he heard a muffled sound, a loud clunk and followed by a curse. Harry twiddled with the phone cord anticipating the inevitable voice.

"Arthur Weasley speaking, who's this?" At least that was what Harry thought he heard…
"It's Harry…"
Who else would be calling the Order?

"Mr. Weasley, you're talking through the wrong end…" Harry grinned during the pause despite himself as he heard Mr. Weasley fumble with the receiver.
"Harry," Mr. Weasley replied genially and Harry's grin grew wider at Mr. Weasley's valiant attempt to regain his composure and answer the phone without hurting himself. "Nice to here from you… how are you?"
Harry sighed he knew the list of questions by rote.

"How are the Dursley's treating you?" Harry glanced quickly to the Dursleys in particular Aunt Petunia who eyed him like a hawk ready to drive for its prey.
"Not too bored…?"
"Nah, I'm fine." Harry twiddled the phone chord impatiently; he couldn't have a private conversation with Mr. Weasley, not with the Dursley's watching.

"The Daily Prophet, is very entertaining…" Harry added grimly. "Nothing like waking up to a good dose of evil in the morning..."

The newspaper for the magical community had a new story every day of suspected Death Eaters and reports of plots and attacks from Lord Voldemort.

There was a sickening silence on the other side of the phone…

"Molly is worried about you, Harry."

"I know." Harry slumped in his chair at the mere thought of Mrs. Weasley. He had seen her worst fears the pervious year when she tried to evict a dementor out of the order's headquarters. It had been frightening…and Harry knew that he could be a distinct possibility that many could die in the up coming months. He knew of her suffocating fear and Sirius' death only a few weeks earlier, amplified it…


Harry gazed out of the kitchen window dreamily, thinking of the godfather he had not known long but loved deeply…

A small movement caught his eye…he lent forward and gazed at the window. Uncle Veron followed his glance and shrugged and made a movement to tell Harry to finish his phone call so he could continue with his chores, in particular weeding the garden.

"Harry…Harry…damn fellyfone…Harry you there?"
"Yeah, tell Mrs. Weasley I'm fine," Harry stole a look at Dudley who was cracking his fists threateningly, "and happy…very happy…"

Harry didn't hear Mr. Weasley's unbelieving sniff of disapproval…out in the garden he was sure he had seen something...


Harry didn't have time to hear the rest of the spell as he toppled from his chair and rolled to squat, gazing about the kitchen. The spell he feared above all others left the Dursley kitchen surprising quiet – but destroyed.

Uncle Veron was spreadeagled on the floor his eyes opened and glassy – but was unseeing… Aunt Petunia and Dudley had already escaped the kitchen…squealing in terror.

'God help me…I'm alone!' Harry got his feet despite the sick feeling in his stomach. The Death Eaters had finally attacked him in his own home. Without knowing he had made the decision Harry crawled to the phone receiver which swung lazily where he had dropped it on the table.

"Death Eaters…" Harry hissed as his eyes caught the sight of three black clad figures making their way to the glass sliding door. He abandoned the phone receiver and backed out of the kitchen, pulling out his wand…

In the next instant Harry bounded up the stairs…searching for a way out… His mind reeled and he found himself panting in terror…This was not how it was supposed to be! He was supposed to live and face Voldemort – and kill his nemesis…then he could truly live.

Realising that he had stupidly trapped himself in the house he had lived in for the last fifteen years, Harry raced down stairs only to come face to face with Voldemort's servants. He watched in a mix of trepidation and fascination as the first Death Eater approached the bottom of the stairs.

Harry whirled around and raced to the hallway only to stop by the hall cupboard. 'Oh God help me…someone help me…' A familiar fear knotted in his stomach – a fear he wished he could have combated but never seemed to conquer.

For some unknown reason he leaned against the cupboard and opened it slightly. A faint crack of light welcomed him…almost beckoning him…Without knowing why or how he jumped into the cupboard as a Death Eater grabbed his shoulder…

'It's not supposed to end like this…I'm a Gryffindor. And so I should die fighting…'

Harry entered the darkness, the Death Eater was still beside him and then they meet a blinding white light and flashes of green, red, yellow and blue…