Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

This is my first fan fiction, please read and review with that in mind.


Harry's emerald eyes snapped open, as he awoke with a start. His deft fingers brushed messy locks of hair out of his forehead. The lightning bolt scar burned as if it could sear a path into his mind.

"Shit," he thought. "This is never a good sign."


Albus Dumbledore sat in his office with a grave expression. Across his desk, he faced the grim visage of Severus Snape.

"It has finally happened, Headmaster. The Dark Lord has found it."

"Necropolis," whispered Dumbledore. "I must depart as soon as possible, but first I require a meeting with young Mr. Potter. Kindly alert the Order to bring him to me."

"As you wish." Snape swept away, cloak rippling in his wake.


Nymphadora Tonks and Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody Apparated with a soft pop into Privet Drive. Moody waved his wand and a silver wolverine appeared and floated into the abnormally tidy house in front of them. The luminescent creature approached the only non-obese male in the house.

"Potter, pack your stuff and meet us in the street. Dumbledore calls," said the Patronus. Harry blanched at the unexpected intrusion, until he recognized the voice.

"Moody?" he asked.

"No, it's Barty Crouch. Don't be daft, boy. You have two minutes." Harry plied the loose floorboard open and removed his trunk, broomstick, cauldron, and other magical paraphernalia. Hedwig hooted as Harry whisked her cage off his desk and sprinted out the door as fast as he could.

"One minute and thirty-six seconds. Not bad, Potter," growled Moody.

"Wotcher, Harry," winked Tonks. Moody gripped his arm before Harry could respond, and with a crack, the unusual trio disappeared.


Moody and Tonks bid Harry farewell at the Hogwarts Gates, where he was accosted by Professor McGonagall.

"Professor Dumbledore asks that you allow Dobby to take care of your possessions, and that you immediately report to his office," she greeted him. "The password is Sugar Quill." Harry summoned Dobby and did as she asked. Harry made his way past the gargoyle and into the Headmaster's office.

"Greetings, Harry. Would you care for a lemon drop?" inquired Dumbledore, as he examined the obviously groggy boy before him.

"Not particularly. Sir, am I here because my scar hurt tonight?" Harry replied.

"As perceptive as usual, I see. Tell me Harry, if you had to associate one emotion with your scar's pain this time, what would it be?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure how to describe it. I know that I felt joy, but it was more complex than that. I also felt…the opening, of possibilities unknown," said Harry, as he pondered. Dumbledore paled slightly, but showed no signs of surprise.

"It seems that my suspicions, as well as Severus's information, are correct. Soon, Voldemort will ascend to the position of Necromagus." Dumbledore held up a hand, cutting off Harry's obvious question. "Allow me to explain," he continued. "You are, of course, aware that Voldemort has filled his repertoire of spells with the darkest and most forbidden magicks. However, there are spells of a certain magnitude that no amount of research and altering of the soul can teach alone. The spells that I refer to are the Light Arts, the True Arts, and the Dark Arts. While many believe Voldemort and his followers practice the Dark Arts, in reality, they merely attempt to wield a shoddy and impotent replica of those arts. The Necromagi command legions of Inferi with the lift of a finger, Inferi with combat capabilities far above those normally encountered. Their unholy craft could amplify Voldemort's abilities and make his domination of Magical England all the easier."

"Professor, if these Necromagi are so almighty, then why have they not conquered the world yet?" asked Harry.

"Two facts prevent this occurrence. The first is that Necromagi, while unholy and arcane beyond the understanding of most, are not inherently evil. A select few of them choose to wield their abilities in favor of preserving this world's balance, which means that they restrain their brethren from unleashing too much havoc. The second factor is the presence of the Clerics, practitioners of the Light Arts. While the Clerics are, for the most part, content to allow the world to run its own affairs, they would have no choice but to intervene should the Necromagi run rampant. However, I have no doubts that once Voldemort has drained Necropolis of all its knowledge and resources, he will not hesitate to become the first rogue Necromagus in centuries," Dumbledore explained.

"That could backfire on him, then. What if the Clerics are more powerful than him?" mused Harry.

"Unfortunately, in the case of a single Necromagus, I believe that the Cleric Council will be more than happy to sit in their ivory towers and demand that the Necromagi Elders control their kin, rather than take action themselves," Dumbledore answered. "Which is why I called you here today. I wish to inform you that I will not be here during this year, as I will be traveling to the Lost Temple in pursuit of the Light Arts."

"Sir, may I join you in these studies?" asked Harry.

"I'm afraid not, Harry. Your soul, although pure in its own right, contains a portion of Voldemort's soul. No matter how persuasive you are in your explanations of said circumstance, the Clerics will almost definitely refuse to teach you their ways," replied Dumbledore. "I simply ask that you study diligently and prepare, for I estimate that within a year, Voldemort will emerge from Necropolis and unleash new and terrible horrors." With that, Dumbledore removed his wand from his robes and tapped a flamboyantly painted cow ornament on his desk. Understanding that a Portkey had been created and that he had been dismissed, Harry reached for the ornament.

"Good-bye, and good luck," said Dumbledore, as Harry was pulled away.


Author's Note: I intend to update frequently, but life may interfere. Wish me luck.

Edits: I added a transition between Privet Drive and Dumbledore's office. Thanks for the review, Flamel. Also replaced dashes with X's.