Winning Ways

Winning Ways

Chapter 1- Sleepy Thoughts

Harry Potter lay in his bed in the smallest bedroom of number four Privit Drive, and thought. He thought about his finished potions homework. He thought about what his friends were doing right now (most likely sleeping). He thought about Quidditch (the best sport ever in Harry's opinion), and he thought about his fifteenth birthday three weeks before, and all of the presents he had gotten from his friends. Hermione had given him a book of spells she'd collected to help him with his everyday complaints, like how to fix broken glasses, how to turn his arch enemy Draco Malfoy's hair bright pink etc. His best friend Ron had gotten him a joke quill that commented on whatever you wrote with it ("Good god that's dull" or "You're not going to write that are you?" or "Nice essay, but could do with improving the grammar a bit!") No doubt it was one of Fred and George's inventions. Hagrid gave him a book of his own recipes, which Harry quite intelligently decided to put away and never ever use (Hagrid was a notoriously bad cook). He had had quite a good birthday actually, despite the usual bad treatment he received from the Dursleys- aunt Petunia, uncle Vernon and cousin Dudley.

The Dursleys were the family he had been brought up by following the death of his parents when he was only a year old. The Dursleys hated anything out of the ordinary, especially Harry, as he was as un-ordinary as it is possible to be. He was extraordinary in fact. This was because he, like his father, was a wizard, and his mother had been a witch.

Harry's parents had been murdered by an evil wizard named Lord Voldemort, who had also tried to kill Harry. But the curse he used backfired and Voldemort had been left as near death as he could become, while Harry had been left with only a scar. The scar, which was on his forehead and was shaped like a bolt of lightening, was a lasting reminder of what had happened, and marked him out as famous in the wizarding world. Voldemort had tried to kill him several times over the past few years as well, and was each time unsuccessful. Just a few months before, Voldemort had been returned to full strength, and now was a bigger threat to everyone, especially Harry, than ever before. Harry was often left wondering why everything had to happen to him.

But things weren't all that bad, Harry reminded himself, at least he would be going back to Hogwarts tomorrow morning. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was the best school ever. No, it was the best place ever. Despite all of the pain and trouble he had suffered over the years, at least at Hogwarts he was (mostly) safe and (usually) happy. Only one more night until Hogwarts, one more night and then everything will be alright...He smiled at the thought of it, and the smile remained on his face as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 2- Breaking Boundaries

A few streets away from Privet Drive, where Harry and the Durlseys lay sleeping, a dark figure stood at the edge of a boundary, unable to pass across it. This boundary, for all those within it, marked the difference between danger and safety. To the figure, it marked the difference between failure and success.

Everything within this boundary was perfectly safe, for the dangers beyond could not pass across it. This figure, whatever it had planned, may as well just turn back right now, because it was Not Getting In.

The figure, however, did not turn back . Instead it muttered a few words in an unintelligible language, and walked through the invisible barrier as though there was nothing there. It walked through row after row of identical houses until it reached number four Privet Drive, and without breaking pace, turned and entered through the door that swung magically open before it. The figure walked slowly and silently up the stairs, and down the corridor to the smallest bedroom, where Harry was sleeping peacefully. It entered his room, and crossed the floor to sit beside him on the bed. As the figure passed a mirror on the table, the image it revealed was that of a young girl, only a year or two older than Harry himself, with short dark hair and an unreadable expression. She sat down beside him and softly brushed the hair from his forehead, tracing his infamous lightening shaped scar with her finger. Something like sorrow passed over her face, and in a soft sad voice she whispered "Poor Harry...".

She sat looking at him for longer than she could tell.

"I know how hard it's been," she continued quietly "You've been through so much, more than you should have been. Life's been very hard on you, and for all the good that you do, and you do do a lot of good, you get only pain in return. You are living proof that life isn't fair, and I wish dearly that I could help you. In fact, I could even see us becoming good friends, but...things just couldn't work out that way. I know you Harry. You don't know me, but I know you, and I know that you wouldn't just stand by if things were to get...out of hand. You would step in and do what you had to do. So now I have to do what I have to do." She stood to leave,

"I'm so sorry Harry, more than you could ever know. Life hasn't been fair to you...maybe death will be." She faltered, and then said finally, the last part of the sentence an almost inaudible whisper, "This won't hurt, I promise".

She poured a few drops of a dark liquid into his slightly open mouth, and taking one last sorrowful look at the sleeping boy, left the room.

With that, she swept silently and speedily down the stairs, out the front door that closed magically behind her, and got as far and as fast as she could away from Privet Drive, leaving no signs that she was ever actually there. Except for one of course...

Back at number four the potion had taken its effect. Without any pain or discomfort or even any acknowledgement, Harry Potter's short and troubled life drew to a close.

At this same moment, several streets away, a dark figure passed over the boundary that had failed to save poor Harry's life, and disappeared into the night.