Unofficial Portkey Archive

Prologue:

Author's Note: I finally made it… this is so great. I would like to thank Audrey and Broken Angel who have betaed my story and edited for me. They have helped out as much as possible. Again thank you for all your help.

J.K. Rowlings owns Harry Potter and company, while I own the plot, Roland Demoas and some other OCs, including the Hunter Order. Marvel owns the X-men and Doctor Strange.

Despite the way that it looks, this story is Harry/Hermione. Life must begin from something, and that something is the end of Ron and Hermione's relation. There, Harry's life begins.

* * * * * *

It had been a week, no more, no less, and still there was no change. Harry sat and stared forward thinking of the past, thinking of the "could've's" and the "should've's." He hadn't moved more than a three-foot radius since he had got back at the Dursley's. His aunt placed his food in his room on his desk, daring to come in. She had sense this obvious change in her nephew, and was actually worried about him. Dumbledore had recently sent him a letter, but it was only returned with a bold No written on it. Harry was in no mood for his teacher; his only chance at freedom was gone. His godfather, his friend, was gone forever and Harry would never get to see him again, he didn't even get a chance to say good-bye.

No one had come to visit him, yet. But that was probably because they knew what had happen to him and how afraid the Dursleys were of him. Hell, why wouldn't his relatives be afraid of Harry; he was the cause of so many people's deaths. Harry had no intention of ever leaving the house again; there was nothing left to live for-especially without him.

He wiped a tear from his eyes. It was a week without him, no more letters, no longer hearing his godfather's voice. A sigh escaped Harry's throat. He missed him so much. There was so much that he wanted to talk about and now… a tear fell from Harry's eyes, what's the point? Everyone's going to die anyways. The lone knife that his godfather had given him was sitting on the desk across from his bed. Maybe it's better to end it now?

For hours, Harry sat there and stared at the knife thinking of everything. He never heard a single thing; all he did was stare foreword at the knife. And there was only one thing stopping him: Hermione and how disappointed she would be with him. But the pain's so much. Harry just wanted it to end. His parents were gone, his godfather was gone. Everyone he loved was gone. No, that's not true. No it wasn't, Hermione and Ron were still alive, along with the rest of the Weasleys. But how much longer til they're gone. Harry didn't know if he could handle that kind of loss again. It hurt too much the first time, but to lose them…no one would ever love him. And Harry knew it.

Even his friends proved that point. His best friends in the whole wide world recently got together as a couple. They hadn't even waited that long from Hogwarts. Hermione was the one who told him too, thinking that Ron also told him. But no, his best mate was too much off a chicken to tell him. In her letter, Hermione said that Ron was romantic about the whole thing, how he planned it by himself. But Harry knew better; Ginny helped him with it. There was no why Ron could ever be romantic, especially the Ron he knew. The Ron Harry knew was an immature boy who could focus if someone made fun of him. The Ron he knew was a shallow kid who believed that money was one of the most important things in the world. The Ron he knew could never think that way of another person. But then again what did Harry know?

But Hermione said that he was so sweet, and how he invited her over already. Her parents said no, of course, but that was probably because she told them about Ron asking her out and Hermione saying yes. Funny, Harry wasn't invited over. Hell, he didn't even receive a letter from Ron yet. Harry sighed. Now with them going out he was just going to be a third wheel. All that left Harry to do was to curl up and be alone-again. He hadn't been this miserable since before Hogwarts. And it was all because of Ron and him asking out Hermione.

Harry finally decided that she was too good for Ron, and knew the relationship wasn't going to last. But why should she listen, or even believe him. He's just Harry, of course, a boy who barely got his OWLS. A boy who almost got her killed. Maybe it was better for them to go out, that why they couldn't get hurt any more. But then again… What was the point? Harry finally decided. Even his friends didn't care about him. Maybe it was better to end it soon. Soon, Harry thought, that's a good word. Soon. All Harry wanted to do now was think things over. He was never going to rush things again, even if it meant killing himself.

* * * * * *

When Harry's reply came back, Albus Dumbledore wasn't expecting his letter, let alone a large "No" carved in the back of it. The paper was torn through, an obvious sign to Harry's torment. Albus knew Harry was upset, but he didn't think it went this far. Albus didn't have to guess; he knew that Harry was in a deep depression, one that stemmed from two places: the recent death of his godfather, and the news of his friends going out. Sirius Black was just another straw on the back of the camel that carried Harry Potter's problems. But it was the news of Hermione and Ron becoming a couple that broke the back of that camel. Harry had always had issues with love, and with this news, it could be thought as the fact that his friends didn't want him to be around. But there was more news then that.

Mutants have begun to spring up across the world, and the wizarding world was no exception. Albus was only lucky enough to know a certain person who could help if need be. Most of the mutations were immediately fixed through corrective magic that bound certain abilities. But some were able to escape this horrible fate and joined up with Voldemort, who promised them a free world where they wouldn't be persecuted. This worried Albus but with facts from that certain friend, it was clearly worse then it seemed. He didn't understand it all, but luckily his friend was arriving soon, and was bringing someone who could explain it.

"Professor Dumbledore," Dobby appeared in his office. "A man by the name of Scott Summers is here." The old professor raised an eyebrow over his crescent glasses. "He has a friend with him by the name of Professor Xavier." The bright blue eyes sparked up at the sound of Xavier's name. "They said that-"

"Excellent, Dobby," Albus stood up, "please, go and tell them that I will meet them in the Great Hall." Dobby turned to leave. "And oh, Dobby, please help Professor Xavier is he needs it." Dobby nodded but was confused. Albus understood at once, the house elf only saw this Logan, not his friend. "I will be down in a few moments." Dobby nodded again and disappeared with a pop. Albus smiled; he would finally get some information on this mutant issue, and maybe some help it with as well.

* * * * * *

Hermione Granger paced her room now still worried about the note she received from one of her best friends. Or rather the lack of note she received. When Hedwig came back with Harry's letter, there was a large "No" carved into the back of it, and this only added to her beliefs. Harry was going through depression-and severe one at that-from what she knew about her friend.

And it didn't help now that Ronald Weasley asked her out or that he didn't tell Harry. He had been her other best friend for five years and it finally happened. She knew that he was going to ask her and that it was going to be soon, but she hoped that it wasn't going to be this soon. Especially not the way that Ron asked. But she would give him an ear full about that later, first things first. Harry's mental and physical health mattered more than her relation with Ron at the moment.

"Mum!" she yelled down stairs. There was no reply in from downstairs. At first Hermione thought that her mom didn't hear her, so she screamed again. Again there was no reply. "Mum!" Hermione tried a finally time for breaking out of her room. Hermione tore down the stairs only to stop at the bottom of it.

Her mother and father were talking to a strange man. He wore sunglasses during cloudy day, and thick black ones at that. They seemed to curve around his face, preventing all light to enter his eyes. The man wore a long black coat, with belt straps over the chest of it, each locked in place. His hair flowed down onto his shoulders and down his back. In his hand seemed to be cane of some sort, it was odd, alternating in black and red colors. "Your daughter has decided to join us," he said looking up at Hermione. The man's was a deep masculine voice, but it was almost melodic and ethereal like. He also bore an accent, as if he was from America or something.

"Oh, Hermione," her dad said, turning around. "I told you this morning that we were expecting guest." Mr. Granger turned to the man. "I'm terribly sorry about that. She forgets easily." He turned back to his daughter, "Dear, this is your cousin from America, Roland um…"

Hermione hadn't recognized her cousin from America. He had gotten in touch with her parents about a month ago and he asked if he could visit. The last time that she saw him was over nine years, when Hermione was six, again, before the accident that cost Roland his parents. It was at a family reunion in Florida around Christmas, and some of her other cousins were picking on her. Roland was the one who stepped up and protected his little cousin. He was only twelve but enjoyed being with her. When they returned home for Christmas, Hermione found a pile of gifts just for her. They were from him. It was he who got her hooked on books. For about a month, he made calls to her and talked and listened to everything. But his parents died soon afterwards, and she never even heard from him again-until today.

"Demoas," he finished the sentence, "it's quite alright, girls as pretty as your daughter must have a lot on their minds, what with boys hounding after them." Hermione blushed slightly. She remembered now with her mother mentioning it. But Hermione was too worried about something. "But I take it that wasn't what you were thinking about." Roland raised an eyebrow over his sunglasses. "A friend maybe, one who is in serious trouble." She blushed madly this time. He had guessed right. But how did her cousin know. "We'll talk later about that later. For now, how about a hug?" he smiled.

Hermione jumped down the stairs and hugged her cousin. "I missed seeing you," she said, her head on his chest. She didn't release the effect that he had on her until this moment.

"And I you, my friend, and I you," he replied, soft and tender. "It would have helped to hear your voice, but what can you do?" Roland released Hermione and looked forward at her parents. "Come, there is much to talk about." He reached down, staring forward, and tried to find bags.

"Just leave them, dear," Mrs. Granger said, "We can take them up later." Roland nodded. "We can talk in the living room." Everyone moved save Roland. Hermione looked up at her cousin.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her troubles forgotten for the moment.

"Well, a blind man can't lead himself everywhere can he?" Roland chucked. Hermione caught the meaning behind his words. That was the meaning of the sunglasses. She immediately walked over helped him into the living room. But as much as she wanted to be with her cousin and listen to what has happened in his life, she wanted to help Harry. "Well, I guess that talk can't wait, huh Hermione?" She blushed again. How did he know what I was thinking about? "We can discuss it in the living room, if that isn't too much trouble?"

Mr. Granger nodded his head, but quickly added a no for Roland's sake. "That shouldn't be a problem." He and his wife took seats on the couch.

"Good then," Roland smiled. Hermione helped him find a seat in one of the empty lazy-boys and then took a seat in the other one. "First things first: what school do you go to?" Hermione looked shocked and was thankful that Roland was blind. What should she tell him? After all he was her cousin but… Hermione looked over to her parents for support. Her mom mouthed an `I don't know.' "I'm asking because if it is magically based I can probably help more." Her mouth dropped. "See, magically based problems emit a stasis field that I can detect so…" Roland shrugged. How does he know about magic? She thought.

"But from your _expression it isn't, is it?" Roland continued. "No it involves a friend, I can tell that much. You're pretty upset about it, so that must mean that he is too. Depressed maybe, suicidal thoughts are quite the possibility." He smirked. "Am I closer?" Hermione nodded, she couldn't say anything. Roland had nailed it on his first try. "My best guess is that this friend is your best friend, but not your boyfriend and yet you love him still." Hermione blushed even redder. "Good, I'm much closer now. Or have I hit it yet?" Hermione nodded. "Good then, come tell me, who is this boy that you care so much about."

"He's Harry Potter," Hermione spoke meekly. "And you're right about everything-except about the love part."

"Why, can you not love a friend as though he is a brother?" Roland replied quickly, but the concern was on his face. Hermione nodded a response. "Still, that's not…" he trailed off and stopped, sitting back in his chair thinking. "I've never been wrong before," Roland muttered, Hermione barely caught what he said.

"How did you know about magic," Mrs. Granger asked. "Are you a-"

"A wizard of course," Roland pulled out his wand from his coat. It was black metal, reflecting most light. "I'm in my sixth year now, transferred over to Hogwarts, so…" Roland trailed off again. He seemed to enjoy ending things without fully ending them. "How about a different topic?" Roland slid the wand back into his coat, and then rubbed the back of his neck. "There will probably be time for that later. For now, tell me of what has happened here in the past nine years. From your lack of shock and who her friend is, I take it Hermione is a wizard, correct?" Mr. Granger smiled. "Please, what was it like to get her letter?"

Roland listened carefully to Mr. Granger talk, and seemed really interested in it. For what seemed like hours, Roland said nothing unless to ask another question. It was always her mom, or her dad, or herself that talked. But Hermione was anxious, she was worried about Harry. The only time that Roland took his attention off of the Grangers was when he placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "He is fine, at least for now, Hermione." Roland was staring at her, as if he knew exactly what she felt. "But if it bothers you that much, I know someone who may be able to help." When Roland looked up a grave smile was on his face, but Hermione knew that everything would be all right, at least for the moment.

* * * * * *

Outside Number 4, Privet Drive, there stood a man in a brown trench coat. For weeks now he had been watching this house, learning the movements of the inhabitants. The boy who he was asked to watch rarely moved from his room, unless to go to the bathroom and his food was brought up to him. The boy was in a deep depression, which meant a perfect opportunity to attack, but his master said no and that they must wait until he shows up-then and only then. So the man did nothing. But that didn't stop him from smiling at the fact that this war would soon be over and both threats would be gone forever. The man's pointing teeth were obvious to all who passed by as he smiled

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