Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


Prologue

August 1996, Diagon Alley

The pain growing inside his chest and spreading throughout his body was maddening. He felt completely blind and all he could do was curl up on his side in fetal position and groan. His chest burned.

"Harry!" someone cried out hysterically, then that person screamed. Panic took over, the pain suddenly forgotten. He tried to yell something but couldn't move an inch. He tried to look where they were but couldn't see a thing.

Oh please make this stop! I have to help them! I have to...

More screams and yelled incantations came from all around him. Chaos. Things crashing all over the place. The unmistakable sound of bodies falling on the ground and on the walls of the buildings. All this was making him more and more desperate.

"Take him! Take the boy now, you fool!" roared a harsh voice.

"You won't!" someone else yelled fiercely. The sound of curses crashing against the other ensued. The explosions from them were coming from all directions. The horrible burning reached his neck, face, and stomach. His head felt like it was submerged in a sea of fire and he couldn't hold it back any longer. From his scorching lungs came an ear splitting scream.

Ron Weasley yelled desperately. "Harry!"

"Go Ron, take Hermione!" someone else bellowed.

"I can't leave him!" cried Ron.

"Go, now!" commanded the other person, who Harry just realized was Arthur Weasley. It seemed they were all getting farther and farther away, or maybe he was. Time didn't seem to exist anymore. All he could do was repeat over and over in his mind.

I cannot die. Please don't let me die.

I have to help them. I have to live. Please!

Anything to let me live!

Then he felt it. Someone was holding him, taking him away from there with a powerful grasp. He was disoriented and blind. All he could feel was the pain and a strong wind against his body. Was this dying?

A hand stroked his hair. He heard a whisper close to his ear - the voice of an angel.

"All will be fine, child. No more pain."

Such a lovely voice. How divine it was to hear a voice like that say those things when all else around him was hell.

The gusts of wind suddenly stopped. He barely felt the ground underneath his body as it touched him. Where was he?

"Do you still wish to live, young one?" asked the angel's voice. The tone was highly sympathetic but also very sad. He couldn't understand what was going on but he didn't have time to understand. He felt like he was starting to fade away from this world, like he was leaving his body. He couldn't speak, although he kept thinking - yes, let me live.

Please let me live.

Before he knew it, his lips were wet.

"Drink this. It will give you life."

He opened his mouth and savored some warm liquid. He was in too much pain to think. He just drank and drank, suddenly realizing how divine it tasted. Then out of nowhere, a thought came to him.

Elixir of Life. I am drinking the Elixir of Life from this angel!

He couldn't stand it when it was taken away. He wanted more. He needed more. But the pain was already going away. Slowly, he could feel his body again.

"More..." he managed to whisper, barely audible. The torment was going away amazingly fast and his vision was finally returning.

"Not today," answered the angel. "For now, you will not remember."

Blackness took over immediately and Harry Potter fell into the deepest, most soothing sleep he's ever had.