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Prologue He was pacing his room, back and forth, in what seemed to be deep thought. In reality, he was trying not to think at all. Why would he want to? All he'd think about was what had happened, and all that he'd lost� All because he had done the right thing and saved both his and his cousin�s life. Bloody Ministry! Anything to make sure their perfectly delusional world isn't shattered. Less than a month ago, two weeks, 4 days, 17 hours, 34 minutes and 27 seconds ago, to be precise, he had lost his wand, and with it, his magic and his life. Or so he felt. How could he now survive in the muggle world now, after knowing the wonderfulness of being a wizard? He didn't know how he would manage. He shook his head almost violently, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. 'It's over, Potter! Stop thinking about or you'll only drive yourself crazy!' Try as he might though, he couldn't keep the thoughts from his head. He wouldn't be surprised if this was Fudge�s fault as well. The old bastard probably cast some spell on him to make him continuously think about it, to torture him some more. But he knew that wasn't true, because he had been able to think about other things, like those dreams� Voldemort was planning something� Harry remembered him saying something in the dreams about attacking Hogwarts soon� and finally getting rid of Harry. That was another issue that was weighing Harry�s head down. Voldemort. He knew that now that he was defenseless, Voldemort could attack, and Harry knew without a doubt that he would succeed. Harry would be dead, the world�s Golden Boy would be gone for good, Voldemort would take over the world, and Hermione and the rest of the muggle-borns and half bloods would be killed off. Harry grimaced. He would be severely shocked if he lived another fortnight or two; He had no doubt Voldemort would attack. Harry was prepared for it. Well, as prepared as he could be. He couldn't be magically equipped, of course, but he was prepared for his death and anything that might follow after, meaning he had written out all his good-bye letters, and had written his will. The ministry wasn't allowed to touch his money, and the most they could do was transfer it into muggle money and give it to him. They agreed to put it into a muggle bank account that only Harry would have access to. The Dursley�s knew nothing about it. No doubt the greedy bastards would try and take every cent of it away if they knew. No way would Harry see his parents� money blown away by those muggles. He decided he would split it evenly between Sirius, Remus Lupin, the Weasleys, and Hermione. Looking at his clock, he saw that it was 10:00 p.m. He lay down on his six-inch thick, lumpy mattress and closed his eyes, hands folded under his head. He opened his eyes back up and stared at the ceiling. 'I wonder what everyone is doing right now? I hope Sirius doesn't go off and do something reckless to get himself caught and basically executed.' Harry closed his eyes and fell asleep, fully aware of the fact that he may not live to see the morning. *~*~* Voldemort sat in his gold snake engraved 'throne', his red eyes glittering sinisterly, twirling his wand between his fingers, a small smirk making his already grotesque face even more so. A large crowd of Death Eaters formed a circle around him. "Tonight, I will finally get my revenge on Harry Potter. With the protection wards around his relatives� house gone, it will be no problem to get in and kill Potter, and those muggles he lives with. After that, we will strengthen our forces and take Hogwarts. Whosever name I call will be accompanying me to end his life. Malfoy, Nott, McNair, Alexander, Edmonton, and Liots. The rest of you leave, and be ready to return when I summon you. We apparate to Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whining, Surrey, at 11 O'clock, torture him for an hour, and then end his life at exactly Midnight. Do you understand this?" Voldemort�s chosen co-killers nodded in affirmation. "Good." *~*~* A woman sat in a large red chair, her green eyes staring unblinkingly at the clock on the small stand beside her. She drummed her fingers on the stand, watching and waiting. The clock turned from 10:59, to 11:00. Her eyes narrowed, and she sighed. "Just hold on until midnight, Harry. You can do it." She began tapping her fingers more rapidly. *~*~* The street was dark, as it should be at eleven o'clock at night, and no one was awake. If anyone had been, and had happened to glance out their windows at this moment, they would have been shocked and confused to see seven figures appear out of nowhere, in front Number Four Privet Drive. The seven stalked up the walk, and blasted the door open. A second later, the upstairs light came on and there was yelling as the Dursleys woke up. There were several shouts of Crucio and pain-filled screams as the Dursleys were tortured. Voldemort watched for a moment, then stalked down the hall to Harry�s room. Blasting the door open, he strode in. *~*~* Harry's emerald eyes snapped open as his door was blasted off its hinges. He remained unmoving as Voldemort strode in. "I was wondering how long it would take your pathetic self to come. Really, Tom, it's very sad that it's been fifteen years and you still have been unable to kill a kid. Really very sad, indeed." Voldemort smirked. "Nice try, Potter. Trying to make me angry enough for you to escape won�t work tonight. You are going to die. You've eluded my grasp one too many times. Tonight, luck is not your side." With that, he raised his wand and cast the Crucatious curse on Harry. Harry clamped his jaw shut, and held back the screams the pain caused him. Voldemort frowned, and cast the spell again, and Harry arched only slightly, still gritting his teeth. Incensed, Voldemort shot the curse at him again and again, but still Harry refused. Finally, Voldemort removed the curse, called several Death Eaters to him, and had them beat Harry non-stop for 25 minutes. Pulling a long dagger from his robes, Voldemort strode over to the struggling figure on the floor, grabbed Harry around the neck, and thrust the dagger into his stomach. Harry let out a surprised yell and fell limply from Voldemort�s hold. He lay panting on the floor, one arm wrapped tightly around his bleeding stomach, the other one holding him up off the ground. He glared at Voldemort defiantly, with pissed him off. "You may kill me tonight, Tom, but there are still people loyal to me," Harry spat, thinking of Ron and Hermione." And as long as they remain loyal, I'll never be gone. My memory will haunt you till your last days, Tommy boy, and the light side will win, with or without me. And you know it. You can't win forever, Tom. You'll come in last in this race." Voldemort shook angrily, but forced a small, cold smirk. "I suppose I really can't blame you for wanting to feel important during your last moments." Then he waved his wand and Harry was lifted into the air and thrown around for a few moments before he was flung roughly against the wall. Harry landed on the floor and Voldemort stabbed him with the dagger again. Then he threw Harry to center of the floor and strapped his arms and legs down, rendering him unable to move. Voldemort grinned evilly and began his work. *~*~* The woman looked at the clock. It flashed 11:59 in glaring red lights. She got up, picked up a long black leather jacket and pulled it on over her dark red halter-top, and leather pants. The she grabbed an extra leather jacket, shrunk it, stuffed it her pocket, and disapparated. *~*~* Harry watched Voldemort leave. Everything was getting blurry, and he knew he would be dead very shortly. A few minutes later, his room was engulfed in flames and he knew this was how he was supposed to leave this world; Betrayed by the ministry, banned from his only home, beaten, and defeated by his worst enemy. *~*~* Voldemort stood outside, the Death Eaters in a circle behind him, as he watched Number Four Privet Drive go up in flames. Then he turned away and apparated. *~*~* She stood in the middle of Harry's room and found him quickly, lying against the bed, eyes closed. She pulled the jacket from her pocket, returned it to original size, and slipped it on him. Then she lifted him in her arms, and disapparated with a pop. When she reappeared, three other people immediately surrounded her. A young woman with a green tank top embroidered with green glass beads, and black jeans led her over to a black leather couch and the woman in red laid the unconscious Harry down on it. " How bad, Tera?" the red woman asked green beads lady. Tera frowned and dragged a hand a few inches in the air over his body, assessing the damage. She frowned. "It's as bad as it looks, Cassandra," Tera said to Red. The group of people looked sympathetically at the boy, for he looked dreadful. There were numerous cuts and gashes on his body, the most visible of which were on his face. One long cut ran from his eyebrow all the way down his face in a sort of arc, ending at the corner of his lip. There was a large gash, still bleeding, on his left temple, and scratches on his left cheek, as if a cat had clawed him. His lip was bloody and his eye swollen. Another thin but bad cut ran from the inner corner of his eye to his collarbone. Tera sighed and rambled off a list of his injuries, using a bunch of fancy medical terms. The three women around him stared. "Huh?� they said in unison. Tera sighed. "Lets just say it's a bloody miracle he's alive. With some of the wounds he's sustained, he should be dead. I guess we know for sure he's Gryffindor and Slytherin�s Heir. I'm going to need you all to leave for awhile while I fix him up." Cassandra nodded and left Tera and Harry alone. Motioning to the other two females to sit down, she told them what had happened, though there wasn't much to say. "Voldemort hurt him pretty badly, obviously. We have to start his training immediately, before anyone has a chance to hurt him again. Right about now, Voldemort should be celebrating his 'victory' and the Order should be mourning their loss and sending Howlers to the Ministry.� She allowed herself a wry grin. �By tomorrow, the whole world will have heard about the attack and believe Harry to be dead. Now, Emerald, is Harry's room ready?" Cassandra asked, turning her gaze onto a girl of about fifteen, who was dressed in a plain water-blue, loose-fitting, long-sleeve t-shirt and black jeans. Emerald nodded. "Yeah, all that needs to be done is for him to make to add some personal items." Cassandra smiled. "Good, good. Allegra, what's the latest Intel report?" Allegra, a girl of seventeen was sitting on the arm of the couch, braiding her currently blonde hair. Her yellow eyes looked at Cassandra. "Voldemort is definitely planning an attack on Hogwarts. His plans are still a little shaky. All he himself really knows is that it's going to happen, and that it'll happen sometime in the next year or two. My guess is it'll be sometime during what would be Harry's seventh year. Which means, if I'm correct, and I'm sure I am, we have about two years to train Harry and get him ready for the final battle." Cassandra nodded. She walked back to the room in which Harry and Tera occupied. "Tera? How is he? How long before he wakes up and is able to begin lessons?" Tera opened a bottle of aspirin and popped two pills into her mouth. She looked exhausted. "He's in a healing coma right now. Voldemort hurt him pretty badly, but he should be recovered enough to wake up by next week, and he can start lessons a few days after that. He's going to have to take it easy for a while though." *~*~*~*Next Week*~*~*~* Harry's eyes fluttered open, and he blinked rapidly, his eyes trying to adjust to the bright light. �Where the hell am I?' he wondered, turning his head to look around. This action made him wince. There was a pain in his throat and on his face. He was lying on a queen bed in a room decorated in dark red, golden yellow, deep green, Atlantic ocean blue, and black. There was a largish table in the corner of the room, to the left of the door, which had vials and cloths stacked up on it. Next to him was a small nightstand with a glass of water, and his glasses sitting on them. His bed was covered in a black comforter with silver trimming and matching silver and black pillows and sheets. He was very confused, and was becoming increasingly nervous. It sure didn't seem like he was dead, but, Voldemort had made sure Harry was in no position to escape, and nobody could've gotten there in time� But then, where was he? Who had brought him here? Just then, the door opened and a girl dressed in a long black skirt and green tank top with a casual, black, open, long-sleeve shirt. She smiled brightly when she saw him awake. "Hello, Harry! I'm glad you're awake. How are you feeling? You've been in a coma since last week." She explained, waving her hand over his body again, like she had last week. Harry blinked. "Last week? How long have I been here? Who are you?" he asked quietly, his voice raspy from having been in disuse for so long. "I'm Tera Vale, and you've been here for a week. Cassandra got you from your relative�s house and brought you here. You were in pretty bad shape, but you seem healed now, except you�re a bit weak." Harry blinked at her. " But who ARE you?" "Oh, yes, sorry. Well, I think we should let Cassandra and everyone else help explain it to you. If you feel up to it, we can go out to the main room and you can have something to eat while everything is explained to you." She looked at him, waiting. Harry started at her for a few moments before nodding his head slowly. 'What is this? Is this a dream? Was he still in the Dursleys� burning house, dreaming of being rescued?' These were the thoughts running through his head as he slowly crawled out of the bed, throwing the covers off him. Tera handed him a soft black robe and he welcomed it, shivering now that he had lost the warmth of the blankets. He followed her out of the room and down a wide hallway with shiny oak floors and walls. There were several paintings on the wall, and a few black iron tables were scattered against the walls. They turned through a door on the left, and Harry found himself in a brightly colored room, decorated with two identical leather couches, three leather Lay-Z-Witch recliners, and a large circular cherry oak coffee table. Two women, Cassandra and Allegra, occupied two of the Lay-Z-Witches. At one end of a couch, Emerald sat, flipping through a muggle rock magazine. Tera went and took the last recliner, and motioned for Harry to sit, which he did, at the other end of the couch Emerald sat on. "Where am I?" Cassandra, dressed casually in black jeans and a white wife beater leaned forward in her chair and stared seriously at Harry. "You are at the Training House, designed and now vacated by Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, and their wives, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Ilena Ismayek*. We're currently in the country of Scotland. This place is yours by inheritance. You can live here as long as you like, you own it, but you must stay here, or at your other Gryffindor-Slytherin properties. These are the only places safe enough for you, until you turn seventeen." Harry stared at her in utter bafflement. "I own this place by inheritance? Why would I inherit something Gryffindor and Slytherin owned?" Allegra explained. "You are the heir to both Slytherin and Gryffindor. That is how. Voldemort may be a descendant a of Slytherin, but not of Salazar Slytherin. You are. See, Godric and Ilena had a daughter, who married the son of Slytherin and Ravenclaw." "I'm a Slytherin? Well, I guess the rumors in second year were partly true. But who are you? How'd you get me out of the house? Why are you here?" "We are sort of your� guardians, you could say. See, Salazar and Godric chose us to teach you, before any of us were even born, obviously, since we inherited the ability to control a fraction of a certain element. We are very powerful, but since you fully control each element, you are much more powerful than even Slytherin and Godric. You are, as I'm sure you know, destined to defeat Voldemort for good. But as has been implied to you since you started Hogwarts, you do not have to do it alone. We will train you, and help you."
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