Fighting for the Beginning

"Mum! Dad!" Ronald Weasley woke, his face flushed. His cheeks were warm and fresh with dampening sweat. He took a look around his room at the Burrow to find nothing out of place. His Chudley Cannons poster displayed the Quidditch players resting comfortably on their brooms in a deep sleep. He could even hear his father's snoring below him. Ginny's music box in the room beside his was still playing softly; everything was as it should be. He sighed, relieved as he dropped his head back down on the soft pillow on his bed and began to roll over and resume sleeping.

'Creak'

Ron's eyes shot open again. This time they moved towards his door and then as the sounds continued through the kitchen they moved towards the floor. Fear bolted through him and he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and reached for his wand that was safely under his pillow. His wand shaking slightly in hand he crept to his bedroom door and cracked it open. He could hear footsteps on the stairs. Too heavy to be Ginny's, too soft to be his Father's, too slow to be his Mother's, he thought. His mind raced. The plan: he had to remember the escape plan.

Dropping to his knees he opened the door wider. The intruders were speaking amongst themselves. He crept quietly and slowly down the hall glad suddenly for the house being the way it was. He didn't have far to go and he knew how to find his way in complete darkness. Ginny's door was open as always and he easily stepped inside. Slinking towards her bed he covered her mouth and whispered quickly in her ear when her eyes went wide and her body forcefully tried to buck him off of her.

"Ginny!" he whispered urgently, "It's time, they've come."

"Ron," she mouthed fear laced in her eyes. He nodded and he pushed open the window. Once she'd pulled on a pair of his old pants and some socks he helped her hoist herself out of the window. Holding onto the ledge she began to climb down expertly. Her parents had been making them do drills ever since they'd come home. Always in the cloak of darkness in case anyone was watching. Ginny was careful to avoid a bunch of prickly bushes beneath her window.

When she felt the cool grass beneath her feet she sighed. Looking up she had expected to see Ron. Instead the sight of Ron dangling from the window his long arms reaching out and his hands barely scraping the windowsill greeted her grimly. Shaking in fright she pressed herself against the wall and saw with horror that a thick black gloved hand was clutching his neck. Ron scratched at it screaming out in whispers. Ginny took a deep breath and reached in her pocket and pulled out her own wand. She aimed carefully and shouted in a frantic voice.

"Imobulous!"

The hand's grip on Ron's neck had stopped applying pressure. Ron pried at the fingers until he dropped heavily to the ground landing in a pile of bushes just beneath the window, the exact same bushes that Ginny had avoided. Groaning in pain he stood quickly and tugged on Ginny's arm while Ginny stared at the hand that was now beginning to move. Nevertheless the whole pack would be down on them soon. The faster they got away the better. They reached an old shed and Ron whispered quickly at the lock.

"Alohomora!"

The lock immediately opened and Ron ripped the door open. He reached down and grabbed a pair of shoes and a cloak handing them to Ginny and pulled on his own. Grabbing her broom he handed it to her and then pulled out his own broom. He looked at the last two with longing. They belonged to his mum and dad.

"Ron!" Ginny looked up at him.

He gulped and handed over her broom. Mounting his own he watched her kick off from the ground, himself kicking off only a second later. Together they zoomed forward on their brooms aiming for the high clouds. Ron dared not to look back. It was the plan; he had to follow it. If all were well they would see each other again. Swallowing hard he moved his broom closer to Ginny; even with her cloak she was shivering. He wasn't able to tell if it was from fear, temperature or both.

"Don't worry, Ginny," he said more to calm his own nerves than hers, "We'll see them again."

Only when she relaxed slightly did he feel the need to suck up his ultimate fear. He had to see Harry. He couldn't help but think that Harry would need him the most. Harry didn't know what had been going on. He didn't know that the Death Eaters were moving on with their agenda. He didn't know that next on their agenda was the destruction of the Order. He didn't know.

Swallowing hard he nodded to himself before turning off to make his way towards Hermione's house. Her family didn't have the power to hold off what waited in the dark. Hermione alone couldn't stand against the minions of Voldemort; against the Death Eaters.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was the first day of summer. The clouds were barely lifting themselves in the early morning. Birds were chirping and the soft whisper of the wind rolled down through the trees. All was peaceful and serene as a thick layer of ice on a lake. The sun had just broken through and was casting its bright yellow glare down onto the streets, brightening the area.

The bright light hit a most particular street illuminating the street sign. The sign read in bold letters Privet Dr. Each house was struck by the warmth of the sunlight and within each house its inhabitants awoke to a brand new day. The golden brightness hit house four and the process began for the day. Inside house four was a boy; a boy of extraordinary power; a boy who could do the most wonderful things. Unlike the other days of summer when he woke up looking towards his window hoping for some hint, some sign of a message, he awoke with a fearful start.

"Ron!" Harry sat up and stared around his room.

Like any other room it didn't seem too unusual. On his desk he had stacks of books and parchments strewn out for holiday homework. Sitting in a neat corner was a broomstick complete with golden letters at the top reading Firebolt. Resting at the edge of his bed was a large trunk containing his school things and some spare clothes. And beside him was a cage with the door open.

Normally there would be a snowy white owl hooting anxiously to be let out. Harry looked at the cage slightly alarmed before calming himself remembering that he'd woken up in the middle of the night and let his bird fly free through the fog.

"Ah," Harry grimaced reaching towards his forehead feeling perhaps the most unusual thing about him, his lightning bolt scar.

It hurt him all the time now and he was used to by now. Shaking his head he felt his shaggy black hair swish in every other direction. When his scar ceased and desisted it's usual morning burning he rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses. He stood up feeling heavy. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. Something had happened and he wished he knew what it was.

A sharp rapping at his door broke through his thoughts. Harry knew it could only be one person: his Aunt Petunia. The knocking came again this time accompanied by a shrill voice. "Harry dearest!"

Harry inwardly groaned at the sarcastic sweetness wrapped delicately with false cheerfulness. "You're breakfast is ready! Come and get it!"

Harry revolted at the urge to throw up. Apparently the talking that the Order had given her and Uncle Vernon weeks before had had little effects. They treated him better alright, but didn't conceal the fact that if they could they would send him out on the streets to fend for himself. When and only when he heard the sound of her feet shuffling past the door and down the stairs did he gag and mutter under his breath.

"You'd think I was some dangerous animal that would attack at any moment."

"Harry!" Her voice floated up the stairs and he shook his head once more before padding his way to the door.

He stopped suddenly his instincts taking over. Walking quickly back to his bed he reached beneath his pillow and pulled out his wand tucking into his pants. Without another thought he swiftly turned and walked to the door opening it and stepping out into the hall. As his door closed his owl Hedwig, flew in. She dropped a letter onto his bed before tucking herself into her cage. With the window open the letter rattled restlessly on his bed until a full gust of wind pulled in and knocked the letter off of its perch sending it fluttering beneath his desk.