Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 2: Elements and Ghosts

By: The Dark Aeon

Author's Note: Thank you again for reading my story. It helps to get feed back and to know what doesn't make sense and such. Again, I would like to thank Audrey and Twisted Angel for beta-ing my story, it has been a big help.

KypDurron- With this Hermione/Ron dating thing, it is suppose to add drama to the story. Part of it is Hermione, no one had really said she was bueatiufly before, so her pride was being played upon. Besides you can see some outside influence in some later chapters.

Izzieq- Hermione's pride is speaking when she says things like that. She is only thinking about herself at those moments, this is sutle foreshadowing for something bigger that I intend to do.

Harry Potter isn't mine, Marvel comics owns the X-men and Doctor Strange. But Roland and the plot are mine.

* * * * * *

Hermione stretched when sleep had finally ended. The sun was pouring in her room despite the shades being down. It never allowed her to sleep in late. She leaned over and looked at the clock on her bed stand. It read nine o'clock. She moaned. It was too early. As much as Hermione enjoyed getting up for school, during the summer, she liked to sleep as late as possible. She only prayed that Harry or Ron never found out about that, they would never let her live it down.

She stood up slowly, and was a bit dazed, she always was from sleeping. Hermione grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her. When she walked out of her room, she heard the shower going. Her parents were already off to work, each at separate offices. So Roland must be using it now. Deciding to get breakfast, Hermione casually walked down stairs and into the kitchen. On the table was a note from her parents. It was their standard and she swore that they had multiple copies somewhere. The note told her to behave, take care of the house, and stay in the house. But this time there were two new lines. Don't allow Ron into this house today, and try to talk to Roland.

Hermione understood the first one; it was just an extra precaution to make sure she didn't do something stupid. She didn't intend to have Ron over, unless he really begged, but even then, she didn't know. But with Roland going out, she was going to be alone, and that only caused her to worry even more. Hermione knew from his late night conversation that he was going to see a man named Bruce, then Harry. She just hoped that Harry was going to be alright. Roland seemed almost sure that he was doing better after being set straight. But that's my job, she thought. After all she was the one who helped Harry kept his head on during tight situations. And now someone else had taken that away from her.

Hermione sat down with a pout look on her face. She was the one who helped Harry, not her cousin. But as much as she wanted it, she knew that their relationship was going to be different. Harry was now a third wheel, and Hermione hated herself for that. But she wanted to be with Ron. "I see we have a struggling heart," Roland said, coming down the stairs. Hermione turned her head and saw her cousin. He was in a suit, actually full-blown suit. It was black with a shirt; white one at that, and a blood red tie. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses, and was rubbing some cream on his face. His hair was pulled back into a slick pony tail. He looked so different, less scary almost; Handsome even.

"What are you doing?" she asked as she turned around in the seat and looked at him.

"I'm going out to a business meeting, then the closest mall, and then to Harry's," he replied.

"I didn't ask `where are you going?'." She stared at her cousin.

"Oh, this," Roland said, pulling his hands away and showing them to Hermione, "it's a cream to hide scars." He finished rubbing it on his cheek and then went into the kitchen. Hermione got up and followed him. "I got into a fight a while back and got a few scars on my cheek. Not really the greatest of things, but not something I want to show off." He opened the oven and looked at something cooking inside.

"Can I get some for Harry?" Hermione asked. He might finally be able to hide that accursed scar of his. Roland smirked at her, and she realized she was blushing. That was happening a lot whenever she talked about him.

"Probably, but won't do him any good," Roland replied. Hermione was about to ask why, but Roland continued. "His scar is famous, everyone knows that he is The-Boy-who-Lived, and that scar proves it. Without, people would be constantly asking him, `Are you Harry Potter?' `Why don't you have your scar?' Or rather challenge him, to prove who he is. No, Harry is best off with his scar, as horrible as it." He stood and closed the oven. "Lunch is in the oven, just cook it at four hundred degrees for a good two hours and you'll be set." He fixed his tie a final time, and walked toward the front door.

"Wait," Hermione said, stopping Roland, "call me when you're over at Harry's. I want to talk to him." she stared at the floor and was fighting off a blush. Hermione stood there, waiting for something from Roland's mouth, about how she loved him. But nothing came; he remained silent. When she looked up her cousin was smiling at her, and nodded. "Thanks." She rushed over and hugged him hard.

He sighed. "Just listen to me the next time I tell you something," Roland replied, his voice sounding almost tired and weak. It was so different then his other voice and Hermione looked up at the sound of it. Roland had changed in that short time. He was almost older for some odd reason. "You can look at the books that are on my bed." He released her. His voice had changed back to its melodic sound. "And only those." Hermione nodded, and Roland was out the door. Before the door closed, she watched as he pulled a pair of sunglasses out from his pocket and placed them on.

Hermione sighed as her cousin left. She walked back over to the couch and slumped down into the chair. Roland kept pushing at the fact that she loved Harry, which just wasn't true. She loved Ron, that's why they were going out, wasn't it? I mean, Ron makes me happy, he says nice things about me, she thought, I make him happy, I know that much. There was just so much going on that Hermione had a hard time with: Ron asking her out, she saying yes, Harry becoming depressed, her cousin arriving and his secrets. God, why do you have to make it so difficult?

"Because there is so much," a man appeared and Hermione nearly fainted. It was the same man who was talking to Roland last night. "It's a lot to deal with. And love is no laughing matter." he looked so different then most ghosts that Hermione met. That didn't mean she wasn't afraid of it/him/her. She couldn't tell by the ghost's appearance whether or not it was male, female or anything.

"Who are you?" Hermione nearly jumped over her chair, away from the ghost. She instinctively reached for her wand, only to remember that it wasn't there.

"Consider me a guardian angel for now," the ghost replied. "I will talk and you will listen." He/she/it walked over to another chair and sat down in it. The ghost's voice was so melodic, but different than Roland's. His was almost a baritone sound, while this ghost's was more of an alto or soprano. And the way he talked had an eerie sense to it. Hermione decided that the ghost was male because of his voice.

"How do I know I could trust you?"

"Do you want the truth?" he smirked back at her

"What do you want?"

"What do you want?" he replied back. Hermione scowled. This ghost is playing with me, she thought.

"Listen, I want a straight answer now, or so help me God…" her voice echoed through the house and a wind appeared out of nowhere accompanying it. The ghost started to laugh.

"I see why there is a certain interest in you, my dear," the ghost replied. "All that I am going to tell you is that you are something special." He gave her a look and Hermione quickly pulled her robe tight, a scowl on her face. The ghost laughed. "Special indeed."

"Special? Special how?" she asked. Then last night returned to her. "Like Roland?"

"No, my dear," the ghost replied. "There is no one quite like your dear cousin. He, in fact, is a one of a kind, never to be repeated in history again." He stood up and walked toward the door. "Pity though, history sure does need him," he said as he was leaving.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked, "What do you mean?" she stood up and stared at the leaving ghost.

"Goodbye, my dear," the ghost replied, "I truly hope that we do not meet again." He stopped and looked toward her. "This was only a chance meeting and if I see you again, I will kill you. Not without having my fun first of course. " The ghost gave Hermione a final look; she gasped and took a step back. "Sweet dreams, my dear, sweet Hermione." The man smiled and his smile was otherworldly. Sharp pointy teeth were sparkling at her. Hermione collapsed down to her knees, and just stared at the ghost. She was so terrified that she couldn't move. "My dear, there are things that even your nightmares are afraid of. And I would be the least of your worries." The ghost walked through the door without another look at Hermione.

For a moment, she just sat there staring forward. That conversation only brought more questions to her. And there was someone thing about that ghost that she couldn't place, something dark about him despite all the white-whether it was the ghost's voice, or his manner, there was just something about it. It scared her and at the moment Hermione just wanted to be held by some one she trusted with all her life. She wanted Harry there, to comfort her, to hold her, to make her feel better, and Ron, too. But most of all, she didn't want to be alone. Tears poured down her cheeks, and Hermione exhaled deeply. She missed her best friend; she missed hearing his voice, seeing the way his eyes sparkled when she talked. In truth, she missed Harry. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, and prayed that Harry would be all right. Despite what Roland thought, there were times when God was needed and now was one of them.

* * * * * *

Harry was staring forward. He was beginning to think like he was yesterday, still upset about all that had happened, but not thinking about suicide. His mind was elsewhere, and he had more important things to think about. No matter how many times he thought about it, it still didn't seem right. Ron and Hermione going out; Harry would have never thought it in a million years. They were too different, they argued too much, and rarely agreed on anything. She was smart, witty, beautiful; a being of perfection in Harry's mind. While Ron was…Ron. There wasn't anything else to that. He didn't match her at all, not even partially. They just…

"Agh," Harry said, and slammed his fists onto his bed. He was just going to get himself even more frustrated. The best thing that he could do was allow it, and allow them to see their mistake. The only thing that matter was their happiness, and Harry just wanted them to be happy. Even if it meant self sacrifice.

He sighed again. It was going to be a difficult year. Without Sirius for him to vent through, Harry didn't have anyone he could really talk to, not with Hermione and Ron going out. As much as he knew that Hermione didn't want their relationship to change, it had, and now he was just a third wheel. All that meant was for him to focus on something else, schoolwork or maybe Quidditch. Harry moaned. He forgot; Umbridge had banned him from Quidditch for life. So school work it was.

Harry sighed one finally time and got up. Aunt Petunia said that he could even work on his homework if he wished, just so she could get a few words out of him. It didn't work as well as she wanted, but it did allow Harry to work on his written work. Some of the spells he wanted to work on from the year before he couldn't because of the Use of Underage Magic law. So instead, Harry just wanted to work on his Charms paper. Flitwick wanted a foot on the use of the terra charm, or earth moving. Harry didn't see it as too hard, since it was one of the few charms that he mastered on his first try. Even Hermione had to try the spell for a while. Harry thought back to that day.

"Now class," Professor Flitwick said, "make sure that you remember the firm grip. When using this charm, the wand has a tendency to go flying out of your hand."

"Yes professor," the class replied, and set to work. Professor Sprout had allowed them to use some pots in order to practice. The class was comprised of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, so the professor knew that they should be able to get the charm pretty quickly.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. The majority of the class was having a hard time with the pronunciation of the spell, while some continued to hold their wand too loosely and they would go flying. Ron had tried for the past five minutes and he couldn't get it. He stopped and allowed Hermione to give it a try. Professor Flitwick was walking around, helping some students with the pronunciation. Finally Hermione gave up. "Harry," she said, frustrated, "why don't you try?"

"C'mon, Herms," Ron said, "do you seriously think that…" he trailed off with Hermione glaring at him. Harry sighed, it's my turn then. He stepped up to the pot and focused. He pointed his wand at the pot and said softly. "Terian Losia Leviosa." Immediately, the pot's soil came up into the air and quickly back down in the pot. There was dead silence in the room Harry reached down and touched the soil. It was firm and compacted, which probably meant that Harry did the spell right.

Professor Flitwick came over and looked at his pot. When he looked back up, he had a smile on his face. "Well done, Mr. Potter," he said. "It seems that some people have been paying attention." As much as he hated it, Harry was at the center of attention. But the oddest thing was, for the first time that Harry had known Hermione, she was staring at him with awe. Even on the train when they had first met, it was more curiosity than awe. But now there was a sense of wonder and admiration. Harry looked over at Ron and saw a hint a jealousy there, as if he was upset that he didn't get it before Harry.

When Flitwick walked away, it was Hermione who spoke up first. "Harry, that was amazing," she said," how did you do that on your first try?" Harry just shrugged his shoulders. He thought that it was nothing special, the spell wasn't that hard. Was it?

Harry walked over to his desk and picked up his Charms book. He had some notes in the margin, but probably nothing like Hermione's. That's it then, I'll do better than Hermione. He set it back down and went over to his trunk and pulled out his parchment. Best get to work if I'm going to beat Hermione.

* * * * * *

Hermione sat on Roland's bed, reading one of the books he had left out for her. It was fascinating, talking about the mythology of the Christian, Jewish and Muslim religions. It was mostly about demons and angels. Hermione found that a common theme was that angels or demons could mate with humans and produce viable offspring. She thought the whole idea was absurd and the fact that these books even gave the notion that these creatures were real was ridiculous. Angels and Demons didn't exist.

Hermione placed that one down, and picked up another. Elemental Theories and Uses it read. Odd, she thought, why would he want me to read this? Hermione began to thumb through it, looking at what little pictures it had. In the back there was an elaborate copy of a painting showing the five elements: Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Light. But when she got to the back, a bunch of folded papers were sitting there. Hermione picked then out and opened them. Shadow Elemental: the Most Powerful Beings in the World, read the title of the passage. It seemed that these pages were turn out of another book. She flipped through them and found a note at the back of the pile. It was written quickly, and obviously a man's handwriting.

Hermione,

I sort of hoped that you would read through this book first, and find my note. It doesn't really matter in the end, but this book contains information that you would find interesting though it is lacking in a certain area, hence the reason for the torn pages. Don't worry, the library I took it from doesn't know.

Anyways, read this book closely. Though you will find pure unadulterated propaganda, the data that is in this book is useful to know. I just hope you can tell the difference between the propaganda and real information.

Just be careful and don't try any of the spells. (Spells? there are spells in here? She thought) the ministry picks them up in case you're wondering.

With love,

Roland Demoas.

Hermione put the note back down, and returned her eyes to the book. There was something special about that, and it brought back her horrible memory about the morning. For the most part she blocked that memory, but it came back to her. Her arms wrapped around her, holding the book. She missed Harry, and wanted to hear him speak. All that she could hope for was that his call would come soon. As good of a boyfriend that Ron was, even he couldn't help her.

She sniffled and realized that she had started to cry. Hermione wiped a tear away and thought back to all the good times in her life. And almost every memory, save her recent ones with just her and Ron, had Harry in them. Sure she had happy memories before Hogwarts and at home between the years, but nothing really compared to her memories of Harry. And Ron, she quickly added. But that didn't stop the tears; it just made them come faster. "Don't cry, dear," a soft sweet voice said. Hermione jumped and nearly fell off the bed. "Oh, dear did I scare you?"

She looked at this woman, or, what appeared to be a woman. Her pale white skin was offset by the red dress that she wore; it reached the floor. It seemed that her hair was on fire, dancing behind her. But the strangest thing were the woman's eyes. They were the greenest eyes that Hermione had ever seen, next to Harry's. In all aspects she was beautiful; perfect in a word. But that didn't mean Hermione trusted this woman. "Who are you?" she dropped down to the floor and stared over the bed at the woman.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman replied. She was so polite and looked so timid. "I didn't mean to scare you." The woman smiled at Hermione, her teeth were perfect. "You just looked up upset and I-I-" the woman began to stutter, and a frown. "I'm truly am sorry."

"You didn't answer my question," she replied, but not as harshly. "I want an answer this time."

"This time? Oh dear," she said. The woman had a worry painted on her face, and turned away from Hermione, biting a fingernail. "It appears that my brother has already been here." She turned back to Hermione. "I truly hope he wasn't too dreadful. That man has been more trouble then he's worth. But we need him none the less." The woman sighed and then remembered what Hermione asked. "Oh, you wanted my name didn't you?" she took a seat on the bed. "You can call me the Phoenix or Lillian. I personally like Lillian better, a bit less formal." She smiled and Hermione was relaxed. She wanted to trust this woman, she really did. But with what happened this morning, and the way that `ghost' treated her, Hermione didn't know. "I know this will sound corny, but you can trust me. My brother is a true arse, down to the core. Most of the time he just does what he wants, and I have no idea why he came here."

Hermione stood up and sat down on the other side of the bed. "He probably wanted to talk to my cousin," she said, "your brother was here last night, too."

"Oh, so this is the Hunter that we've been hearing about," Lillian said. "He seems so sweet, despite what has happened." She shook her head.

"What do you know about my cousin?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, no dear," Lillian smiled, "you're not getting that out of me. His story is that, his, my dear. He will tell you when he is good and ready." Her eyes pleaded with Hermione, "please don't go looking for it." Hermione, as much as she wanted to know, broke down and agreed with this woman. There was just something about her that seemed so nice. "Good, enough with that, now I guess that you were crying because of my brother?" Hermione nodded. This woman seemed so much like her cousin.

"Yeah," Hermione said, moving some of her hair out of her eyes. "He was just so rude and mean and …" she didn't know how explain it. There was this whole aura about him that terrified Hermione. She shuddered. A tear fell down her cheek, and Hermione sniffled.

"There, there, Hermione," Lillian replied. "Just be thankful that he isn't related to you. I had to live with the man for so long." She took Hermione in her arms and hugged the young girl. "Just remember, that man is a mean little bastard and nothing is going to change that." Hermione laughed, and tried to hold that smile. "You are a smart girl, Hermione," Lillian continued, "There is a certain someone in your life that will make you extremely happy. You just have to look for it. It's right in front of you." Hermione nodded, and continued to smile. "I just wish that you could see it," Lillian said it softly. It was so soft that Hermione barely heard it.

"Now," Lillian said, with her own sniffle, "you take care and listen to your cousin. He is, in a sense, the reason why a lot of people continue to live. He seems so strong and tough. But, and remember this, this is important, Hermione, there will be times when he needs people and he will push them away. Don't let him. His mind is fragile as it is, and with some new predicaments coming up, he will need all the friends he can get. Just keep your mind and heart open, and you will see the truth." Lillian stood up and smiled at Hermione. "You are a beautiful girl, Hermione, never forget that." Lillian smiled one finally time before walking toward the window. Hermione inhaled deeply as she watched this woman transform into a phoenix. She looked so much like Fawkes.

Hermione looked back at the book that she had been reading before, the one about the religions. It mentioned something about phoenixes being the bringers of joy and pleasure. Often they were symbols of hope and life; for they were suppose to rise from the ashes of their death. She said that her name was the Phoenix, Hermione remembered. That could be like some code name or something. But she didn't really believe that, not after what the woman's Animagus form was a phoenix. Magical animal Animagus forms were said to be the hardest to obtain, and the phoenix was one of the rarest, rarer then a dragon.

Hermione picked the book up again, and flipped through it, looking for the section on the phoenix. There, she thought. It was a rather long passage on the use of the phoenix in the different religions of the world. People viewed it as a symbol of hope and wrote it in with along with the rest of their beliefs. It was a very powerful symbol. That could be why Dumbledore has on in his office, they were said to make people feel better just by their presence. But there was something else about them. Some myths talked about people becoming a phoenix in great times of need. Is that possible? A person with great magic becoming a phoenix?

The image of the woman came back to her. There was only one person that had eyes like that, and that was Harry. And it was his mother who he received those eyes from. Lillian Potter… Hermione thought. Lillian was the name of the Phoenix. It couldn't be. Lily Potter had been died for over fifteen years. It wasn't possible. No one could return from the dead. By all laws of magic, it wasn't possible. But that woman looked so much like… well, Hermione didn't know what Lily Potter looked like, but if anything, she was sure that that woman was Harry's mother. But, there was no real proof about it, only her word and Hermione doubted that she would see the Phoenix again. She didn't want to bring false hope to Harry, especially on matters such as that. No, better wait and try to figure out more on the Phoenix. Maybe there's something else in Roland's books. She picked up the Elemental Theories and Uses and began reading it, hoping to find some information.

* * * * * *

Roland was pacing in an alley. A friend was supposed to meet him here and he was late. The sun hung in the middle of the sky, which meant that Roland was done with all of his meetings with his boss. Apparently there had been some problems in the London Branch of Wayne Enterprises, and Roland was needed to help clarify a few details on the plans for their new energy source. So Roland had to listen to a few bureaucratic scientists complain that his plans didn't work. Of course they worked, he had made them himself. If the damned scientists couldn't understand the concept of fourth dimensional essence, that wasn't his problem. If they couldn't open their god-forsaken minds, that wasn't his god-damned problem.

Roland took a large left hook into the wall and building shook violently. His anger was evident. Beneath his sunglasses, he felt that fire burn in his eyes. Roland looked at the wall, and saw the large hole that he had made, then down to his fist. His fist wasn't even hurt by the wall; some skin was torn off, but there was no blood. A silver piece of something was beneath the skin and reflected the light. Roland growled and quickly tried to cover up his wound. He had made a mistake, again. If he had used his right hand, then he could just heal the wound. Now, he would have to re-grow the skin. In his blind anger, Roland threw his right fist against the wall, this time taking out a huge chuck as he swung through.

"Temper," a man said, "temper, Al'Takas." Roland looked up at the source. A ghost white man was standing in front of him; he wore a pure white suit with his long white hair flowing down onto his shoulders. If someone walked by, they could almost swear that Roland and this man were doppelgangers. They almost looked alike save the hair and their clothes. Their faces were almost exactly alike.

Roland didn't have his tie on anymore and he looked almost like a drunk. He had circles under his eyes and was standing with his feet spread out. He was ready for a fight. "You lied to me," Roland replied simply, his anger focusing on the man. He hated that man for all he was worth. There was nothing else too it. He could have cost them everything.

"What, in the Gods' name, do you mean?" the ghost replied.

"You certainly know what I mean, Eonos," Roland snapped. His eyes glared at the ghostlike man. "You said that you would never meet them. Either of them."

Eonos shrugged his shoulders. "I came to see you, not her." he paused and walked closer to Roland; clearly thinking that it was safe. "She seemed so distraught and I thought that--" Eonos didn't get another word out. Roland had picked the man up and threw him against the wall. Eonos tried to get up, but Roland picked up Eonos by his neck and held the man against the wall. Eonos smiled and said through a strained voice, "A bad choice I see."

"They are under my protection, even if that means from you." Roland glared at Eonos. "May I remind you of that the rest of you are not supposed to be even allowed on this plane?" Eonos frowned at Roland, realizing that he had hit a sore spot. "You have been allowed to stay simply because I have asked you to. So if you can't remember anything else remember this: they are the only thing that truly matters according to the Tapestry. Not you, not me, not even them. Their fate is set in the Tapestry, and must not be changed. And I will make sure that it doesn't." Roland growled at Eonos, his true side showing. But he didn't care. Everyone could have been lost if this idiot truly messed up. "In simpler words, Eonos, stay away from them, or I will kill again."

Roland threw down Eonos, and stormed off. He left behind the man in white, not caring about his fate. The only fate that mattered was theirs. It was the reason why he existed in the first place, at least that was what Roland thought. Little did he know that Eonos was smiling at the little display that had just occurred in the alley. "Tell me again, sis," Eonos said standing up, "why do I have to be the bad guy?" he brushed off the dirt and grim of his suit and turned around. There stood a beautiful woman wearing the reddest dress ever seen. The woman bore the reddest hair ever seen, as if it was one fire, and had emeralds for eyes. "Really, how did you talk me into it?"

The woman giggled and walked over to her brother. "It was quite simple, brother," She replied, her voice like a nightingale in the morning, "I'm cuter than you are and there for an automatic good." She giggled again and ran over to her brother, hugging him tightly around the neck and smiling. The woman gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he returned the hug but stared back out toward where Roland left.

"You are such a little girl," Eonos replied, "I can't even believe they are allowing you to come back." She released her brother and looked at where he was looking at.

The woman shrugged her shoulders. "Well, partially come back," she said, "I can't go back in my body yet, at least not until the Fallen Angel is found." She held her crossed her arms across her chest and shifted back and forth on her feet

"And you act like one too," Eonos said, but smiled at his sister, "I feel terrible at doing that to him."

"Why, he's just another human?" the woman said. She looked off where he was staring. "What does it matter?"

"It matters," Eonos said, "because I believe he was meant to be one of us, the elementals I mean."

"What do you mean?" she raised an eyebrow at her cousin. "How can he be one of us? He isn't special." Eonos remained silent. "He is. How?"

"That information would jeopardize his life." Eonos looked back at his sister.

"You actually care about that human." Eonos snorted. "He's not human?!"

"Not your definition, at least," Eonos smiled. "No, he would be a true guardian angel, Phoenix, if he was one of us."

"I don't like that name, Eonos," the woman replied, "I prefer Lillian or Lily, thank you very much" She gave Eonos a pouting face, and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Yes, sis," Eonos said, "As I was saying, I believe that he is the one of the Shadow elements."

"How can you tell?" Lily asked.

"The way he walks, how he acts, even by his voice," Eonos said, "anyone who has ever seen a Shadow Element knows what to look for. It's that obvious."

"But there's something else, isn't there?" Lily replied. She clapped her hands and jumped up and down. "Tell me, tell me, and tell me."

"Relax, Lily," he said sternly and firmly. Lily relaxed a bit. "It doesn't matter, but he could be one of those we are searching for."

"That would mean we have the Light element, Fire, and Shadow. That would leave the Air Element, Earth and Water."

"Water will be the hardest of them to find," Eonos said. "Earth and Air, they will be together, that's for sure."

"Why"

"You haven't been dead long enough to remember," Eonos replied, "but those two are soul mates, always. And in every generation, they always seek each other out." Eonos shrugged his shoulders. "That's just they way things are." He turned walked down the alley. "Come, we have to leave these people for the moment. There is work that needs to be done. He needs to be found, and hopefully, Roland will get us there." He slowly dissolved into the air, leaving the Phoenix standing there alone. "I just hope that we find you soon, Fallen Angel." She spoke softly and ran where Eonos was headed, disappearing into the air.

* * * * * *

Harry was sitting on his bed, reading through his potions book. A piece of parchment paper was next to him, as was his quill. The paper had notes scribbled on it regarding the potions essays he was reading. For an hour, Harry had sat there, reading and taking notes. It was an interesting segment on the creation of the wolfsbane potion. Apparently, some of the ingredients were hard to find, but invaluable in the creation of the potion. I wonder where Remus gets all of those ingredients then.

The doorbell rang down stairs, and a few moments later, Uncle Vernon called down for Harry. He sighed and shifted his books off his lap. Despite the fact that his mood was somewhat better, he didn't feel up to doing a lot of things, which included worked for the Dursleys. He was still upset about Sirius' death and Ron and Hermione, along with a few other things. But the major one was concerning his friends; Harry didn't really know how to handle it. He didn't know if he could handle it.

Walking down the stairs, Harry saw Roland smiling. He was leaning against the doorframe, wearing his dark sunglasses, and looked like hell. His suit was dirty, the tie was missing and the first couple buttons were missing. But he was smiling nonetheless. "Harry," he said walking up toward the stairs. "It's good to see you out of your room and up and about. That's certainly a sign of improvement." He stopped just in front of Harry. "It took me two whole weeks to get out of my room." Roland shrugged his shoulders. "Come; let's go talk in your room." He wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and led him back up to his room.

"Sure," Harry replied, and allowed himself to be led back upstairs. He didn't know what his reason for being in such a good mood was. As soon as they reached his room, Roland waited until they got inside and locked the door. "I wanted to ask you a question before you ask me anything."

"Okay," Roland replied, took a seat on his desk. "Shoot." Harry sat down on his bed.

"Are you a mutant?" Roland's jaw dropped and he stared at Harry for a moment, not talking. Slowly, he removed his sunglasses, and looked at the ground. "Well are you?" Harry repeated. Roland looked at Harry, and he saw what was hidden behind his sunglasses, nothing. An empty hollowness hung where his eyes were meant to be.

"Yes," Roland replied, "yes, I am and I have no idea as to why I am telling you this." He shook his head back and forth, and then looked back at the ground. "How did you find out?"

"I saw you disappear yesterday," Harry said, and Roland just nodded again. "You were there on moment, turned all black then disappear."

"And that's all, right?" Roland asked. Harry nodded. "Good, I thought it was something else." It was obvious that Roland was more relaxed; his breaths became further apart and his shoulders were almost slouched. "I must say, Harry, you are something special, though." Harry rolled his eyes at Roland. "No, seriously, you have an open mind about mutants. You don't let the sheer idea that a mutant is different disrupt you from the chance of making a friend." Roland sighed. "I just wish that was more common." He shrugged his shoulders and looked back up. "Now, how are you feeling?"

Harry knew that this was coming. In fact that was part of the reason why Roland was over there in the first place. Harry sighed. "I don't know, to tell you the truth." Roland raised an eyebrow. Harry looked at the man and found it hard to concentrate with the hollow eyes staring at him. "Could you…um…?"

"Oh," Roland felt his face, and realized that he didn't have his sunglasses back on. He quickly placed his sunglasses back on. "Much better."

"Anyways," Harry continued. "I just don't know; there are a lot of things that I still am having trouble with…"

"That's why I'm here, Harry," Roland said, "To listen. You can talk about anything you want, and I'll listen and help you deal with your problems."

And talk they did, for what seemed liked hours. Harry talked about his school and about his friends and their new relationship. Roland helped Harry understand everything: why his friends were going out, that he wasn't always going to be a third wheel, and why Dumbledore did what he did. Roland seemed to understand just about everything that Harry was going through. But finally, they got off the topic of Harry, and onto Roland and his powers.

"So what school did you go to?" Harry asked.

"Huh?" Roland replied.

"You're a wizard, right?" Roland nodded. "What school did you go to?"

"The Washington Academy for Wizards," Roland smiled and leaned back against the wall. "A pretty big school, not as big as Hogwarts, at least as population wise, but the building itself is pretty big. I believe that we sort of have the same kind of schedule where the students stay all year, save the summer. We play Quidditch and compete in the Eastern Tournaments at the end of the year, and the winner plays against the winners of the Western Tournaments."

"How many wizarding schools are there in America?"

"About ten or so," Roland chuckled. "They keep on changing some the names of the schools, so it kind of hard to know if it's a new school or just a new name." He shrugged his shoulders. Finally Harry asked the question that he really wanted to know.

"What are your powers?" Harry asked. Roland sighed. "Come, if I can talk to you, then you can certainly talk to me."

"Just my mutant powers, nothing else, okay?" Harry nodded, but didn't know why Roland was asking that. "Okay, I have slight shadow manipulation." Roland shrugged his shoulders. "In other words…" he trailed off and looked past Harry. Slowly, he raised a hand and Harry's shadow followed it, rising into a large lump next to him. It seemed to gain a corporeal state, and Harry reached out to touch it. It moved back a bit, and when Harry touched it, it felt cold and almost empty. "I can do that, amongst other things." Roland shrugged his shoulders again. "I can also transport myself through the shadows, and fly a tad bit. It's not much, but…" he trailed off again and looked down at the ground.

"Does that explain your eyes?" Roland shrugged.

"Sort of," he replied, "it's hard to explain." He stopped there, clearing not wanting to continue.

"So you aren't blind?" Roland shook his head no. They sat in silence for a while, Harry wanting to leave Roland in his thoughts. There wasn't much else to talk about at that moment, either.

A look of surprise crossed Roland's face suddenly. "It's that time already?" he said, but was clearly not talking to Harry. Roland sat up and looked forward. "Damn it, Hermione is going to-" he paused and reached into his coat. "Which reminds me. Here, Harry." Roland threw Harry a small black cell phone. "Hermione wanted you to call her today and talk. Her number is already programmed into it. Don't worry about how long or when, I'm paying for it." Roland turned to leave, his back facing Harry, but stopped. "One more thing," he paused again, "two actually. Tomorrow, be dressed to go out. I'll be here around the same time, okay?" Harry nodded. "And don't tell Hermione about my special abilities, if she has to ask." Harry nodded again, but was confused. Why did Roland want that? Harry didn't get a chance to ask, as Roland was out the door quickly and silently, moving as a shadow.

I wonder what he meant by that? Harry picked up the phone in his lap and looked at it carefully. The body was black and the keys were white, the screen was extremely detailed, almost like a mini-computer screen. There was a silver inscription on the front, Motorola. Holding it in his hand, it felt light, almost weightless. For a few minutes, Harry tried to figure out how to turn it on, and found the button on the top that turned it on. The screen flashed, and a little egg appeared on it. It bore both a black-feathered wing and a white bat-like wing. The wings were wrapped around the egg, which seemed to shift in colors, mainly black and white. The background was gray, with black clouds and red lightning split the screen ever few moments. Odd, why would Roland program a phone like this.

"Welcome," the phone said, "please state person you wish to call." Harry was taken back. The phone actually talked, he had never heard of something like this before.

"Um, Hermione," Harry answered the phone, feeling a bit odd.

"Full name please." The voice sounded annoyed, almost.

"Hermione Granger," Harry repeated. The screen flashed and turned white, the words Dialing could be read on it. Harry put it up to ear and listen to the phone ring. Someone picked up on the other end and said, "Hello?"

"Hermione," Harry said, hoping that it was her.

"Harry?!" her voice was shocked almost. "I didn't expect your call so soon." Harry smiled; apparently, Roland told her that he was calling. "Are you okay, feeling better?" he smiled, it seemed like she was always thinking of him.

"A bit," he replied, and leaned back against the wall. "I've been talking with Roland."

"Did you know he was my cousin?" Hermione asked with enthusiasm. Harry could just see that smile on her pretty face.

"Yeah, he told me," Harry smiled. "So what's he like around you?"

"I don't know, you've probably seen him more then I have in the past few days."

"How ever true that may be, Hermione," Harry said with a laugh, "he's still your cousin."

"He was only here a few days before he went to see you Harry." There was a long pause. "Harry?" Her voice had lost its enthusiasm and seemed serious and down.

"Yeah?"

"How are you with me and Ron? Do you think that we would make a good couple?" There was a long pause from Harry. In truth, he didn't like it. He didn't believe that they were going to me a good couple. But there was no way he was going to tell her that.

"As long as you're happy," Harry sighed, "I'm happy." That was the truth. If he could just see her smile, it would make his day. That was his final wish, before he died; Harry wanted to see Hermione smile one final time.

"Thanks," Hermione replied. Harry could almost see Hermione push her hair behind her ear. "That means a lot to me, Harry."

"Like I said, Hermione," Harry repeated, "anything that would make you happy.' He smiled again, just thinking of her smiling. "That's all that I really care about."

"Thanks, again, Harry. So how was my cousin?"

For what seemed like hours, they talked, at times almost about nothing. And Harry enjoyed every minute of it. He loved to hear that soft laugh from his friend, and could picture her smile perfectly, her blush at some of things he said. Harry seemed to know how Hermione always looked, and could picture her exactly as if she was in front of him. He wished that they could talk forever. But he knew that it would end soon. And soon it did. "Harry, listen, my parents just came home…" Hermione trailed off, and Harry sighed. He knew what they meant.

"Take care Hermione," Harry said, and she said her good bye to him. Harry waited until she hung up her phone before he ended his call.

Talking to Hermione had made his day, his week, and his month probably. It had livened up his thoughts and Harry couldn't remember a time when he was happier. Maybe when Sirius was around, but Harry didn't want to think about the fact now that his godfather wasn't there anymore. Now was a time for remembrance and grief, but Harry couldn't, wouldn't think about Sirius being gone. No, he would rather just hold it back in, and put on the front of being a strong person. He was, after all, the hero, the Boy-Who-Lived. And no one would ever love the Boy-Who-Lived. It was something that Harry had to accept and live with.

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