Harry leaned against the wall of the cupboard, panting slightly. Using a piece of rag, he pressed it to his arm, trying to stop the dripping blood. This was the fifth time his uncle had beat him that week. He was now nusing a broken arm, leg, ankle, and more.

He sighed bitterly into the darkness. He didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered now that Sirius was gone. And without Sirius, his life was empty, meaningless. The fear had left him, and he had long given up. Given up hope. He felt the guilt eating away at him all the time. He loved Sirius more than he loved life itself. But now, his godfather was gone. Who cared? Everyone he knew would eventually draw away from him, leaving him alone.

Harry looked at the knife lying on the floor with a glint in his eyes. He flicked it, watching, as the blood rolled down his arm. He knew it was fatal if he lost too much blood, but what did it matter when everyone treated the precious liquid within him as if it was nothing more than water. He watched the thin trail of blood with satisfaction, almost as if he was watching someone else. He felt a stinging throb in his arm, but he welcomed and enjoyed the pain; it dulled the everlasting guilt and grief.

He was about to fall asleep when he suddenly heard someone scream, "FIRE!" Harry sat, dazed, as he heard the sounds of pounding feet around him.

He heard a crash and knew immediately that the rest of the house had come crashing down around him. Flames licked at the cupboard, the heat overwhelming, the smell of ash and smoke choking him, suffocating him...

Harry no longer cared. He was grateful, for he knew that he would die. Die, and all the pain and torture would be over. Emotions: hurt, anger, guilt, shame, love, sorrow; all that and more, swirling around inside him, threatening to spill over. He closed his eyes, waiting for the fire to slowly come and devour him.

It never came.

Snapping his eyes open, he found a blue light surrounding him. The light was spinning, fighting and lashing out at the fire. Slowly, ever so slowly, the flames died out, turning everything to a pile of grey, dreary ash.

'No,' Harry thought, his mind not registering what had happened. He had been so happy, so grateful that his miserable life would be over.... But now, all hopes were dashed, once again. Maybe Vernon had been right. He /was/ a freak. Couldn't even die properly.

Suddenly, there a swirling whirlwind appeared before him, spinning. The wind slowed and a women stepped out from amist the storm. She had rich, black hair and lavender eyes the colours of glowing amethysts.

"Harry," the women said. Her voice was soft, soothing, gentle.... for the first time since Sirius' death, Harry felt slightly comforted.

"I am Shiara," the women said. "Goddess of Love, Need, and Justice. You may call me Lady Shiara."

"Were you the one who stopped the fire?" Harry asked warily.

"Yes, it was I."

"Why?" His voice was soft and depressed. "Why did you have to do it? I wanted it to end."

"Look at me, child." Harry felt as if an invisible hand was lifting his chin. Raising his head, he forced himself to look into the goddess' eyes.

"Harry," the Lady looked straight at him, penetrating him with her gaze. "Child, remember, never lose hope. No matter what happen, you must NEVER lose hope."

"What am I to do now?"

"You are in danger. The fire today was set by Death Eaters. They have put strong Sealing Charms on the door and windows, preventing your relatives from escaping. I am sorry to day that Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley have perished in the fire." The Lady paused. "As for you, little one, you only have one chance. One chance and choice. In order to be safe, in order to survive, you must start over. Everyone will believe that you have died in the fire. I will send you to another guardian."

"But I don't want---" Harry began.

"Child," the Lady said firmly. "Do you think your godfather would have wanted you to be miserable? Do you think he would have wanted to feel like this? Harry, please, don't give up. For your godfather's sake."

"Where are you sending me?" Harry asked finally, giving in.

"I'm afraid that I can not tell you at the moment. You'll find out soon enough." Lady Shiara smiled. "This person, you dislike. Yet I trust that you will try your best to get along and tolerate each other. Remember, Harry, for Sirius' sake."

"What about my appearance?"

The Lady waved her hand in the air. Harry felt a windy breeze blow on his face. Slowly, he began to change. His hair grew longer and straighter while he grew about a few feet taller. His skin was as pale as ever from the lack of sunlight, but his eyes changed from emerald-green to a shade of cold, icy blue. He no longer needed his glasses and though his famous scar had completely disappeared, he could still feel it.

"This is spiritual magic," the goddess explained. "So no wizards will be able to detect any magic on you." She looked at the tall, determined boy in front of him.

Harry nodded, his eyes hardening with new resolve. "Will I ever see you again?"

"Yes, I will find a way to communicate with you." The Lady smiled. "Good luck."

Hary felt a gust of wind spinning around him, picking up speed. He squeezed his eyes shut as the world span around him. When the whirlwind stopped, he was gone.