Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 1: Darkness Falls

By: Chronos the Fallen Angel

Author's Note: So what did you think? I would like some reviews for this story, some feed back. And yes this is being betaed, by Audrey and Twisted Angel. Thanks for the help.

* * * * * *

Hermione woke up late on Sunday. Her cousin had been in town only two days and yet life seemed calmer, almost. He had this aura about, something that made everything… well, nice. Stretching, she looked over at her desk. Her quill and parchment were out; yesterday she had written to Ron, who had already written her back. It seemed that he really wanted her to come over to the Burrow. As much as she wanted to, Hermione knew better than to trust Ron about something such as being alone in the house with him. As good of a friend as he was, he was now her boyfriend and things were different. Some of those things she wasn't ready for.

Sighing, Hermione decided to get out of her bed. As much as she didn't want to leave, she knew that she would need to get ready for the day. It was Sunday and they always went to Church. Slowly, Hermione got of her bed and stretched again. Her body was sore for some odd reason. I've must have slept funny, she decided. Hermione picked out her clothes for the morning, placed her robe on and walked out to the bathroom.

After a nice long shower, Hermione got dressed in a nice long skirt, and a white blouse. She sat in front of her vanity mirror for about five minutes trying to comb her hair. After drying, it simply refused to straighten out. Sighing in frustration, she gave up and walked downstairs. Hermione saw her father sitting at the table with her mother. "Where's Roland?" she asked. Taking a look at the clock, she knew that she had enough time for a quick breakfast.

"Outside, mediating," her father replied. "But you'd better get some breakfast before we go."

"Isn't Roland going?" she asked. Mr. Granger shook his head. "Why not?" He turned a page and continued reading.

"We discussed this last night, dear," Mrs. Granger said. "Weren't you listening?" In truth, Hermione wasn't; she was too worried about Harry to do much else, even with her cousin playing cards with her. Roland was talking about something, which was all she could remember. "If you're so curious go out and ask him then." Her mother smirked and turned back to the pancakes she was making.

Hermione scoffed. Why couldn't her parents tell her straight out. It would have made things easy. She kissed her father on the forehead before she went to the back, and saw an unusual sight. There stood Roland in only a pair of black pants. He was well built and each breathe he took flexed a set of muscles. He was in almost a crutch, but his legs were spread out apart. He was rocking very slowly back and forth on it, using all of his energy in the movement. "Tai Chi," Hermione said as she stepped outside.

Roland looked up at her and smiled, "Yeah, I learned it a long time ago. Happen to find it relaxing." He shrugged his shoulders, something that Hermione saw him doing often. But before she could get a word out, Roland `saw' the look on her face. "Why are you… upset?" He spoke slow, always thinking of his words.

"Why aren't you going to church?" Hermione snapped. If she had to go, so did Roland. It wasn't fair. But Roland didn't say anything, he just laughed. "What's so funny?"

"Hermione, do you really expect an atheist to go to church of a being he doesn't believe in?" Roland's question stunned Hermione. She didn't think that he was an atheist. "I've stopped going to church for religious reasons for the past seven years." He shrugged again. Hermione hated that, his shrug never gave a full answer. "And I have no intention of going back for those reasons." Roland limped past Hermione, and picked up a black towel. He wiped his face with it, and limped inside. Hermione wondered about that limp, he never gave a straight answer. It could have been from the car crash, but Hermione doubted that. No, it was something worse, and that was the reason as to the limp and Roland's new take on religion.

When she had first seen Roland, he was the most religious boy that she had ever met. He wore a necklace with a simple cross on it, and had the entire bible memorized. But now, he refused to even go to church. Something had clearly happened. And for the first time since she had a seen her cousin, she noticed it-or rather remembered it-there was a scar on the backs of both hands, circular in their forms, and she could have sworn that he had then on his palms, too. Odd, she thought. But she also knew that there was nothing that would change her cousin from his ways. Even that was obvious when she first met him.

"Hermione, come in for breakfast," her mother called, "you need to eat before we go to church." She sighed, well I better go in or else mum would kill me. Hermione scoffed in, hoping that she would be able to relax today, but her mind kept slipping back to Harry. She was worried about him. Hermione knew how he held things in and how horrible his life was. Oh Harry, I just wish that I could help you. She walked straight to the table, not even thinking about anything else. Even her boyfriend didn't matter, save the need to help her best friend.

Hermione didn't notice Roland standing the corners, watching her think about her friend. If only she knew what power lied in the body of her cousin, then she would ask for his help. If only he didn't have to hide his powers, then he would help without being asked. But that didn't mean he couldn't help. Roland walked backed up the stairs, and began to hatch a brilliant plan to help everyone find their paths.

* * * * * *

Harry was leaning against the back wall, just sitting and staring forward. He will come, he decided a long time ago. It was only a matter of time. He always knew when Harry needed help and He will come. It was only a matter of time. And Harry could wait; waiting was something that he was able to do very well. Soon, Harry thought, soon it will all be over. One way or another. His knife reflected the light as Harry spun it in his hand. Soon…

* * * * * *

It was around twelve when Hermione and her parents got back from church. Apparently, they decided to go out and do some shopping and wanted to bring Hermione along for the ride. Her parents agreed that she could go and visit Ron for today and today only. So that meant some shopping. Hermione was so excited, she almost forgot about Harry-almost. He was still there just in the back of her mind, just not up at the front. That nagging feeling was still there.

Hermione was nearly bouncing in her seat; she was going to see one of her best friends, now boyfriend. This day couldn't get any better. But it could, she could know that Harry was safe and that he wasn't going to hurt himself. Damn you Harry, Hermione thought, why do you always have to ruin my fun?

They got home rather quickly, and Hermione rushed up stairs with her bags. She wanted to get changed and ready for when she flooed over to Ron's. Her parents recently got hooked up the Floo network, and she couldn't wait to see Ron again. But something stopped Hermione. The house had no lights on, save one in the kitchen. She quickly walked over there to see what was going on. The light was coming from the stove, and Roland was there too.

She saw her cousin standing in the middle of the kitchen talking on a cell-phone. "Look, professor, I know," Roland sighed and took a seat on the counter. He was swinging his legs back and forth. "I've been monitoring all of them, and I feel that something needs to be done. One of them has had a traumatic life as it is and another is in denial completely and the third is…" Roland looked up at where Hermione was standing. "Look, I'll call you back." Roland pressed a button on the phone then stared directly at Hermione. Then she noticed it, he wasn't wearing his sunglasses. Her cousin didn't have eyes. The hollowness just stared back at her. Hermione was horror struck, but a calm voice seemed to tell her to go room and continue as if nothing happened. The voice seemed reasonable so Hermione listened. As she left through, she heard Roland say. "Bless you Professor. Always listening in…" his voice disappeared as he opened the door and went outside.

Hermione shook her head and rushed up to her room. Throwing the bags down onto her bed, she quickly got changed into her new outfit. Hermione spun in her mirror. She wore almost basic blue jeans but they were tighter then usually, showing off her curves. Her blouse was loose around the waist, but had a semi-low cut. She knew Ron would love it. Hermione ran down stairs, and Roland was just coming inside. "Aunt Mary, Uncle Joe, I'm going out now," was all he said as he walked toward the door. Her parents tried to get more, but Roland just kept on walking. The door was slammed shut, and the whole house shook.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked. She walked into the kitchen where her parents were.

"He said he was being picked up by a friend," her father said, reading the note, "`I've got some work that needs to be done. A friend is picking me up, so don't worry. Hopefully, I'll be back before dinner with some news. Love, Roland Demoas.' It's all there." He handed Hermione the note.

She read it once before looking up at her parents. "So can I go now?" Hermione asked with hope in her eyes. Her father looked at her mother. She just nodded, but there was a worried look on her face.

"You behave, and make sure you don't do something you're going to regret later," Mrs. Granger replied. Hermione squealed with delight and then blushed slightly. As much as she wanted to be with Ron, she didn't want to be with Ron-at least not yet. Ron was her friend and Hermione didn't want to ruin that friendship by doing something stupid. But that didn't mean she couldn't have fun. Hermione rushed over to the fireplace, and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. She stepped into the fireplace, and she threw down the Floo powder. Hermione said the Burrow loudly, and as she was disappearing, she thought, I hope Harry is all right.

* * * * * *

Harry stared forward, and had refused to move for the past two hours. He was waiting, just waiting for him to come. Soon, He thought. The door bell rang downstairs, and Harry eyes lit up. He's here, he finally back. He stood up quickly, and became dizzy. Sitting down for the past two hours and not moving would do that to a person. "Who the hell are you?" Uncle Vernon's voice rang down stairs. It was definitely him. "I'm talking to you. You come-" Uncle Vernon was silent. But why? Harry thought. He couldn't do that, could he?

Footsteps slowly walked up the stairs, but there was a slight pause in between each foot, almost a limp. Harry quickly opened his door, and smiled hoping to see him. But it wasn't his godfather, it was someone else. He was placing his sunglasses back on when Harry saw him. The man wore a long black coat, with what appeared to be belt straps on his chest. He wore black gloves and black sunglasses. This single color motif was only added by his pitch-black hair. Harry knew that his hair was black, but it at least reflected some light. This man's seemed to absorb all light. "You're not him," Harry said simply, and walked back into his room. He tried to close the door, but the man held out an arm and stopped it. "So leave me alone."

"I can't do that," the man spoke with a melodic and ethereal-like voice. It was deep, and held a calm and peaceful aura to it. "You're well-being means a lot to many people."

"And who are you to say that,? Harry asked. He took a seat on his bed and crossed his arms.

"Hermione's cousin, if you wish to know," Harry's eyes lit up when the man mentioned Hermione. "But I didn't come here to talk about me." He summoned a chair out of thin chair, a black one at that, and took a seat. "I've come to listen, and give advice, if needed."

"Who are you?" Harry asked. Why would any one care about him enough to send a stranger to help?

"Because they care, Harry, they all do," the man said, "especially Hermione." Harry's eyes lit up again. "As for whom I am, I am Roland Demoas." A smile was on his face.

"You probably know who I am, so we'll skip introductions on my behalf." He frowned and scooted to the back of his bed, and leaned against the wall.

"What's bothering you?" Roland asked, he leaned forward and stared at Harry.

"If you're so smart, why don't you tell me?" Harry snapped.

"Fine then," Roland replied without hesitation. "Your depression. As to why there are many reasons, but mainly two: the death of your godfather and the fact that your friends are going out." Harry was shocked, this man had just named two reason that had been bugging Harry, but he didn't think that he was depressed. Upset maybe, but not depressed. "Both sound reasons, too. You weren't expecting either, and one would have been manageable, but with both, depression has sunk in."

"You're wrong," Harry replied, refusing to accept the fact that he was depressed.

"Maybe, maybe not," Roland smirked, "only you can tell me otherwise." Now he clapped his hands. "How do you feel?" He was almost smiling, as if he was laughing at Harry's condition.

Harry sighed. This man wasn't going to give up. Why couldn't he just be left alone? Everyone who loved him always left him or died. Maybe he was useless. "See it's that kind of thinking that causes depression, Harry," Roland said. "You can tell me, I'm here for you, and I'm not leaving until I believe that we have some progress." Roland sat back in his chair.

This man wasn't going to leave him alone. Why could Roland see that Harry didn't want help, he just wanted to be alone. He wanted Sirius to come and save him. He wanted to be loved. "You seriously have some self-love problems, boy," Roland smirked.

"What are you talking about?" Harry wanted to turn away from this man and just ignore him until he went away. Apparently, it wasn't going to work. This man refused to leave Harry alone.

"I mean that you seriously think that no one loves you," Roland replied. "If no one loved you, then you wouldn't have made friends. If no one loved you then people wouldn't care to ask questions about your well-being. If no one loved you, then you wouldn't be asked to go over the Burrow." Harry was about to reply, but Roland continued. "Come on Harry, for once think about your life and take a good look at it. If Sirius didn't love you, he wouldn't have come after you in the Ministry. If your friends didn't love you, they wouldn't have followed you to the Ministry. Do you really believe those ideas, or rather lack of ideas, of self-worth and love? That's Voldemort, Harry; he's just making you weaker so when he comes, he can kill you."

"I-I," Harry couldn't speak. He didn't know what to say. But everything that Roland said made sense. But Harry didn't want to accept it. No, he couldn't accept. But what if Roland was right?

Roland stood up and smiled. "I think I've gotten the progress that I wanted. I will come back tomorrow, same time. And tomorrow, I will expect you to talk." He walked out without another.

Am I depressed? Harry asked himself. In all his life, he had never even thought that he would become depressed. It sort of snuck up on him, and Harry wasn't even thinking that he was. He looked over at his knife that he left on his bed-side table. For a while there he was willing himself to commit suicide. But now… I need time to think, he decided and closed his eyes, thinking of what Roland said and why he was depressed.

He sighed again. Maybe I can trust this man. After all, he seemed willing to help him. But Harry was still unsure. His best guess was to write to the Order, and see what they thought. Things were looking up since summer had started, and Harry knew things couldn't get much worse.

* * * * * *

Roland stood outside of Number 4, Privet Drive, and sighed. The boy was wound up tightly, his feelings held deep within his mind when they weren't on top ready to explode. This was going to be hard, but he knew that Harry needed help, and with some of the new information that Roland received just from his meeting, he knew that Harry was going to need all the help he could get with his feelings alone. It took a lot of self control not to mention that he loved Hermione or that she loved him. Both didn't even know about the feelings yet-they were deep, but strong feelings. It was only a matter of time. And Roland had all the time in the world, he hoped.

Night had begun to fall, and the street lights were turned on. None of the light reached Roland, but that didn't bother him. He limped down to the edge of the sidewalk and looked around. He reached out for but a moment, extending his reach as far as possible, trying to sense anything from anyone. He sighed again, sometimes, he wished that none of his life had ever happened, but knew that it was for the better in the end. Too many people depended on what Roland did and will do. He was too important, an old friend used to say, and it was true. His job was important; every action was weighted and carefully thought out. But then carefully thought out meant only a millisecond for his computer brain. Roland sighed again, it was just one of those days.

His search of the neighborhood turned up negative, meaning no one was watching him. He focused for but a moment, and dissolved into the shadows that he created. Little did he know that someone was watching him: Harry? He had taken a glance out of his window to watch this stranger disappear, and saw him do just that, literally. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he watched Roland dissolve into the ground. And the first word that came to mind was mutant. He associated with a mutant. After a few minutes of thought, Harry decided that it wasn't that bad. From all the noise that he heard from Uncle Vernon, Harry would have thought that it was a bad thing. But he learned that he couldn't trust people on first glance anymore. So he had to write that letter. Maybe tomorrow won't be that bad after all.

* * * * * *

When Hermione came home after visiting Ron, she was exhausted. Not that we did much, she thought, it was just a long day. She had Ron went out to dinner, and talked to whole night through. Hermione forget that she had to yell had him for not telling Harry. He smiled so sweetly, and said the nicest things. Hermione had never heard things like what he said about her before. She just melted in his arms. It was around ten o'clock when she got home, so Hermione was surprised to see that her parents were still up. And Roland had returned, too. "Look, just think about it," he was saying, "I don't need an answer yet, but soon." He stood up and walked out of the room and up the stairs without a hello to Hermione.

Odd, she thought. Roland was usually one of the most thoughtful guys. The past two days, even if he caught a glance of her, he would go out of his way to say hello. But something was wrong; it was as if he finally had his own problems to worry about. Good, he'll stop worry about my mine then. For some odd reason, Roland could always tell what she was feeling and he was blind so he couldn't see her expressions. And she didn't like that fact; it was as if he was reading her mind.

"Mum, Dad," she said, walking into the kitchen, "I'm home." Hermione was smiling when she walked into the kitchen. She had so much to talk about. And Harry wasn't even part of her conscious thoughts at the moment. Things couldn't have been… worse from the expressions on her parents face. "Mum, Dad, what's wrong?"

"Roland was had something he needed to get off of his chest," her mum wiped a tear rolling down. "You're father and I are all right with it, but it is a difficult burden to bear."

"What is it?" Hermione asked, she was now worried. What could Roland have said that could affect her parents this way?

"He'll tell you when's he ready, dear," her father said, "but just have an open mind about it, okay?" Hermione nodded. "Good, why don't you head up to bed, you can tell about your day tomorrow?" Hermione nodded again, and head toward the stairs.

It seemed that everything was alright now, but still something felt wrong, as if they weren't going to tell her. I guess I have to ask Roland. She wasn't going to look forward to that. If he didn't want to talk about something, Hermione learned quickly not to bother asking. And he had a worse temper then she did. It was early morning on Saturday and she was the recipient of it. Roland was mediating, and Hermione wanted to talk some more, learn about what happened. He told her no, and to leave him alone. But Hermione didn't take no for an answer. She continued to pester him until he snapped. It was as Roland was a completely different person. He scared her, he actually scared her. The only person who was worse then Roland at the moment was Voldemort, but it wasn't by much.

Roland came around later and apologized for actions, but it still hurt that he yelled at her. After a talk with her mother, Hermione realized what she did wrong. Roland was very protective of his past, and he didn't like to give it out so easily. And since he recently lost a dear friend, so her mother said, Roland was on edge. Hermione stopped in front of her door, and looked over at Roland's room.

The door was closed and soft music could be heard if a person strained to hear that it. It was Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. Hermione opened the door slightly, and looked in to see that there was a large grand piano where the bed once was. Roland was seated at the piano and rocking back and forth as he played. Hermione opened the door fully so she could listen better. She never even knew that he could play the piano so well. "You're here, so you might as well come in and listen," Roland said, surprising her.

"How did you-" Hermione started to ask, but stopped. Roland always seemed to know when people entered the room, or who. "I didn't know you could play, and so well at that."

He chuckled. "I had to learn, part of my physical therapy." Roland paused in the song and turned around. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses, but the room was dark enough that she couldn't see anything. "But you didn't come here to talk about my piano play skills. What's on your mind?"

I'm in Gryffindor; I'm supposed to be courageous. But Hermione couldn't muster the courage. "Where did you go?" she asked.

"I went to see Harry," he said simply as if it was no big deal. Hermione's eyes lit up. "You know, you have the exact same effect on him too." Roland chuckled again.

"How was he, is he okay? You talked to him, what did say?" Hermione was full of questions, she had been so worried about Harry and Roland went to go see him.

"Slow down," Roland spoke calmly. "He's all right. Was a bit depressed when I met him, but now…" he shrugged his shoulders. "Like I said, his eyes sparked up like yours did when I mentioned you were worried about him. Come sit down." He waved a hand in front of him and a black chair appeared in front of him. Hermione took a seat.

"Do you want me to turn on a light?" she asked. Roland shook his head. "So what do you think of him?"

"The truth is I'm worried about him. For the past fifteen years, no one has ever loved him." Roland sat up and leaned back against the piano.

"But what about the Weasleys? They love him." Hermione was shocked. "Ron loves Harry, I love Harry." Hermione blushed slightly and looked down. Roland smirked at her comment, and she quickly added. "Like a brother." That didn't help the blush that Hermione got.

"What ever you say Hermione," Roland replied. "Maybe the Weasleys do love him, but I'm talking about love in two specific ways: the love that a child can only receive from his parents, and the unconditional love from a true girlfriend. Now, granted someone else can love a child as if they are their own, but the love a parent, a true parent, is a wonderful thing. I can't image how Harry has felt the past fifteen years without his real parents. And from what I can guess, that he hasn't really found a girlfriend who loves him for him. I take it most people fall in love the Hero, the Boy-who-Lived, the Image of Harry, not him." Roland chuckled again. "But anyways, he has self-esteem issues along with love issues."

"Are you a psychiatrist?" Hermione asked with a smile.

"Almost, two weeks of my correspondence course and I'm done." He laughed. "The joke back at my old school was how they were handing a psych degree to a crazy man." Hermione laughed too, but she didn't understand why Roland was considered crazy. He sighed. "I needed to get away from there for a while, so that is why I'm here."

"Why?" What was her cousin talking about? Could this be what her parents were talking about?

"Two weeks ago," Roland sighed again, "I was visiting my girlfriend in Gotham City. Somehow, word got out that she was a mutant." Hermione was shocked, how could Roland be dating a mutant? He gave her a weird look, but continued anyway. "Anyways, a mob came to her home and demanded that she come out. I was exhausted," and Hermione was about to ask why, but Roland beat her to the punch, "don't ask why, all right. So there wasn't much we could do. In the end, she went out, sacrificing herself to make sure that I stayed alive." A lone tear slid down Roland's eyes. "She died so I could live." He closed his eyes and stopped talking. Hermione took that as a sign to leave, but it left so many questions. She sighed, knowing that Roland would only tell her when he was ready. Silently, she left for her room, still worried about Harry, but happy that someone is finally helping him.

* * * * * *

It was late when Hedwig finally came back with a letter, almost ten o'clock. Harry smiled. It was the first time in a week that he had actually written a letter to anyone. Maybe things will be better. Hedwig held out her leg for him to take the letter. Harry petted his owl absentmindedly as he read the letter.

Dear Harry,

I'm glad to hear from you. I knew that this must be tough for you. It is for me at least, and I knew him for the longest time.

It seems that you have finally Roland Demoas. He's the newest member of our program. From what Albus says, he rather smart and ingenious. I just hope that he'll be able to help whatever problems you have. Just remember Harry, you can talk to any of us if you want to.

Now to answer your question, you're probably right in assuming what he is. That is part of the reason why Albus wanted him in the group. Have an open mind about the situation. I know most people here didn't think that it was the greatest of ideas, but Moody and Tonks agreed with me and him joining. Just ask him about what he can do, not his past. That was the one thing that Albus warned us on. Roland is very protective of it for some odd reason, and won't give it out for anyone.

Take care Harry, and please for our sake, don't do anything stupid.

Your Friend,

Remus

Harry smiled. If Dumbledore trusted this man, and more importantly, Lupin trusted this man, Harry knew that he could trust Roland. The man had this aura around him, and it was as if Harry had known Roland all his life. From the brief time that he had spent with him, he knew that Roland could be a friend.

He took a seat on his bed, thinking of what Roland had said. He was right, Harry finally decided on. But that didn't mean he was happy. The fact that his best friends were going out still upset him, and it was even worse was the fact that they didn't tell him. What hurt him more than anything was that he was left out of the information. He was their friend, and they could tell him anything. But the fact that Ron didn't tell made him second-guess their friendship. Harry sighed; he didn't want to ruin his friendship over the fact that two of his friends were dating.

And he didn't want to be third wheel. Harry slammed his fists onto the bed. There were still some problems, but with what Roland said, he was able to get past the main one. And one day, he would be able to properly grieve for Sirius. Just not yet.

* * * * * *

Roland had changed his room back to what it was before, and was now laying on his bed. His body was exhausted beyond its usual amount. And it wasn't because he used more energy, but rather the fact that his mind was on overdrive. Too much was happening and too slowly. He needed for Harry's belated powers to arise, and then Hermione's and his could leave and get back to work. It wasn't that he enjoyed his job, far from it, but rather he was the best there was in his area and he didn't trust his replacement.

"Well, Al'Takas," a being of pure white walked through the wall and stood over Roland's bed. "I see that you're still working hard."

"Why did you have to give me that name, huh?" Roland asked. "I'm not one of them."

"No, but you are half of one, hence the name," the man replied. He was transparent, and a white mist floated around his feet. He wore a pure white suit with a white shirt and white tie. Even the man's hair was white. "I have news for you."

"Don't you always?" Roland said, sitting up. "What is it? I will need some sleep tonight. I have some work for Bruce to get done, then I'm seeing the boy again."

"Good, you've already met him," The man replied. "He bears a special lineage, much like she does. And as you know-"

"It is always half as long as there is one child," Roland interrupted. "How much is it like mine?

"Beyond that is special, nothing," the man continued. "Theirs have been in the family for generations, but since most had many children, the effects haven't happen. And unlike you, their angel hasn't fallen."

"Great," Roland lied back down. "Should I be worried?" the man shook his head. "Anything else, how about my father?"

"He has yet to make an open move, but…" the man trailed off, "I don't trust the silence amide the worlds. Something is going on. Keep an eye on both of them." He turned to leave, but stopped. "Have they admitted it yet?"

"No," Roland replied, "it's much worse then we'd thought. She is dating another person, and he was depressed."

"Was?"

"I hopefully got him past the hardest part. Once a person admits that they're depressed, the road can be easier." Roland shrugged his shoulders. "Hopefully I'll get him to grieve for his godfather."

"Grief is a good thing, my brother," the man left without another word. Roland knew what he meant; he just refused to accept it.

Roland sat up for a moment and rubbed his eyes. He hated his job because he had to work by himself. As terrible as his condition was, he hated when a person was hurt because of him. No one could be near him in fear of what he did would get back and hurt them. Even Hermione couldn't understand what he had been through, or is going through. "Some things are best left alone," he said out loud. He got lucky with his girlfriend and his best friend. But now one was over thousand miles away and the other was dead. "Some people are better off alone."

Hermione had gotten up during the middle of the night to use the bathroom and she had heard voices coming from Roland's room. Moving silently, she walked over to his room and opened the door. There, in Roland's room, was what she thought was a ghost. He had this mist around him, and looking at the bed. Roland was sitting up and talking to the man. She heard partial conversations, and didn't understand half of it. What did that ghost mean by Al'Takas and whom were they talking about? Her cousin seemed to have more mystery wrapped around him then Hogwarts and the rest of the wizarding world. Hermione sighed and went back to her bed, thinking about what she had just heard.

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