Harry Potter and Devil's Lessons

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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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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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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Chapter 3: Surprises in the Shadows

By: The Dark Aeon

Authors' Note: I would like to thank Audrey and Twisted Angel for reading my story. It's been a big help. I finally introduce the new villain in this story, and start to show the title's namesake.

JK Rowling own Harry Potter and company, and Marvel owns X-men and Doctor Strange. I won the demons, and other OC's, along with the plot.

davaca- the X-men will show up later along with Doctor Strange. Just have some patience.

KypDurron- Something like that.

Roland was due to arrive in a few minutes, and Harry wasn't sure about going out. After, all most of his clothes were old hand-me-downs from Dudley and his wizarding clothes. Harry doubted that they were going to the wizarding world. Roland may be a wizard, but his manner was so different then most wizards and witches he met. It was erratic and calm, kind and almost cruel. And there was something about him that made you want to trust him. Odd truly, Dumbledore didn't even have that quality. Harry picked up one of his robes, his Hogwarts one to be precise. If he took off the patch that said Hogwarts he might be able to use it as a coat.

But he threw it back onto his bed. No, it would be too long. And Harry didn't know the spells to transfigure cloths, or even if you could. Professor McGonagall hadn't taught them that. Harry took a look at the mess he made on his bed. Sighing, he picked up all the clothes and was putting them back into his trunk as the doorbell rang. That must be Roland. Harry looked at his clothes and sighed again; it was the best he could do. He walked toward the door and was about to open it, but it was thrown open from the other side. Uncle Vernon stood there, red as he had ever been. Harry was expecting a beating, but nothing came. “Your friend,” he said slowly, pronouncing each word. “Is here for you, Harry.” The word `Harry' was emphasized and Harry saw his uncle clench his teeth.

“Oh,” Harry said solemnly, just looking forward to getting out of the house, “okay.” With that he walked down the stairs, just staring ahead. He saw Dudley and his Aunt in the hallway, staring at the door, almost frightened of what they saw. Confused at the way his relatives were acting, Harry shrugged his shoulders and walked out the door. Out there was a long black limo waiting for him. A chauffer opened the door, and out stepped Roland, wearing his long black coat and a cowboy hat. He wore his sunglasses, but at least Harry had an idea about it. And there was a strained smile on his face, which surprised Harry. For the past two days, Roland was happy, and you could almost feel it. But here, the smile was almost forced. And Harry knew a thing or two about forced smiles.

But he just returned the smile as he entered the car. Roland took one final look at the house before snorting and entering the limo. Harry had taken a seat next to one of the windows so he could watch the scenery. He didn't even look back at the Dursleys. He didn't want to go back, but he knew that it would end eventually. At least he could get out of the house, and away from them. “But wait,” Harry called as Roland entered the car. “Don't I have to stay with them because of the spell?”

Roland chuckled and he had a genuine smile on his face. “No,” he replied, “not really. The spell is renewed everyday you spend there. As long as you are at that house, it is there, and protecting you, building as the day grows.” Roland shrugged his shoulders, “so the spell strengthens each day. By the end of the summer, if you were there every day for the entire day, you would have enough power stored in you for a year at Hogwarts. The spell would protect you.”

“So should I stay?” Harry asked.

“That's up to you Harry,” Roland said, and his smile disappeared. “You are a strong young man, whose powers can only grow. I believe that if you had proper training, you could take care of yourself.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But enough of that.” The limo stared at the end of the sentence, and sped off. “Let me fix those clothes for you.” Roland drew a metallic looking wand and pointed it at Harry. He muttered some intangible words and Harry cloths quickly transfigured themselves. Harry was now wearing a pair of loose fitting jeans and a white muggle golf shirt. His shoes were a pair of gray tennis shoes that actually fit him. “Much better.”

“I was going to ask you about that.” Harry looked down at his shirt. “I didn't think that I was just going to wear my hand-me-down cloths.”

“No, I planned this all out,” Roland said, and reached over to the little fridge in the limo and pulled out two Pepsis© for them. “Catch.” He tossed it over to Harry who caught it and stared at the can. “It's call pop, Harry.” The Boy-who-Lived looked up at Roland. “You drink it.” Again a blank stare. “There really did deprive you of the basic things in life.” Roland chuckled and Harry managed to smile about his life. Roland quickly showed Harry how to open it, and he found that it was almost as good as Butterbeer. Almost.

For what seemed like an hour or so, they talk. It was almost like talking to Ron or someone else from Hogwarts. When they finally talked about Quidditch, Roland showed Harry the newest edition of the Daily Prophet, which was advertising the latest broom on the market, the Dark Star. It handled better then the Firebolt. “But not even as fast as my Ragnorak.” Roland beamed with pride.

“I heard about that broom,” Harry replied, “said to reach speeds over 200 miles an hour. The handling isn't so great, kind of hard to turn it. But the balance is supposed to be so good that a person could stand up on it and fly as if he was holding it in his hands.” Roland smiled and leaned back.

“God, I miss that,” he said.

“Miss what?”

“Quidditch,” Roland replied, “I can't play anymore, at least at my old school.”

“Me too,” Harry looked down at he ground.

“Really, I find that surprising. From what Hermione has told me about you, you were supposed to be the youngest Seeker that your house has had in decades.”

“Our DADA teacher banned me from it,” Harry frowned. “That old bat was terrible. Because I didn't agree with what she said. I had to have detention with her for about a month.” Harry shrugged his shoulders. “So what about you, how come you can't play?”

“Speared a kid going for the Quaffle,” Roland smirked, “I will be remembered for that forever.”

“What happened?”

“Score was in our favor,” Roland told his story, “but their Seeker was better, at least for that match. Our top Seeker was out of the match because of an injury he got from the Chaser I slammed into. He took the Beater's bat and attacked him. So we brought in our second, and the game continued. Our Chasers, including me, were pounding the Hell out their Keeper. I was already pissed at said Chaser for taking out our Seeker, but when attacked he attacked one of my very good friends; I had no choice to retaliate. I rose high in the air and acted as if I was looking for the Snitch. When said Chaser finally got the Quaffle again, I dove at neck breaking speeds and slammed into him with all my weight. Nearly broke the kid's back. Ironically, I did find the snitch. We landed on the Quidditch Pitch pretty hard, and made a nice hole in it. Broke the kid's back in five different places, but I when I got up, I had the snitch in my hands. After that,” Roland shrugged his shoulders, “we won, but I was banned from the Quidditch Pitch.” He looked up at Harry. “How bout you, how did you get banned?”

“Well,” Harry said, “my story isn't as long as yours.”

“That's fine,” Roland replied. “Any Quidditch story is good.”

“Okay,” Harry started. “We won the game despite the poor showing of our Keeper. And there was this prat, Draco Malfoy, who continued to verbally harass our Keeper and me after the game. Our Keeper happens to be one of my best friends.”

“Ron?” Roland asked. Harry nodded his response. It was probably Hermione who told him, because Harry certainly didn't.

“Anyways, Malfoy finally insulted my parents, and I was having a rough year as it was, so I attacked him.” Roland sat in silence and Harry watched as a smile grew on his face.

“Wonderful showing then,” he said. “But I think that if you are going to fight, then you should learn how to use a weapon other then your hands or wand.” Roland shrugged his shoulders. “That would be another discussion for another time.”

“Why?”

“Because we are here, Harry,” Roland pointed to the window. And sure enough, they were at one of the largest places Harry had ever seen, even compared to Hogwarts. It was a giant mall. “I figured we'd pick you up some decent Muggle cloths. And anything else you want.” Harry turned from the window and stared at Roland. “What, can't I be nice?”

“I can't pay you back,” Harry said.

“Don't care,” Roland replied, “you are getting new clothes and what ever else you want, via order one Ms. Hermione Granger. And I quickly found out that when she speaks, you listen.”

“How true,” Harry smiled as the limo slowly stopped. He was still worried about the money and-

“Look Harry,” Roland said, “Don't be worried about the money. I'm pretty well off, what with my job and what not. Besides, don't tell me that you wouldn't like a decent pair of cloths besides your wizarding cloths.” He paused before adding. “And besides, Hermione would kill me if I didn't do this.”

“Why?”

“Found out that I was going shopping a few days ago and told,” Roland said, “Mind you, not asked, told me to buy you new clothes since I was spending so much time with you as it is. A bossy one she is.”

“Oh,” was all that Harry could say. It did seem like Hermione to be worrying about him like that. She always worried about him.

Roland opened the door and stepped out. “And she always will.” He stepped out and Harry quickly followed him, almost excited about the day—almost.

* * * * * *

Dumbledore was reading a note that had just come from Charles Xavier, and was worried. It appeared that one of Xavier's students was visiting a student of Dumbledore's, as well as helping another one. But that wasn't what worried him. It was the heritage that the boy owned. From what he learned of the recent Death Eater actives, it was a rather unique one at that. And from what he knew of Severus' reports, this could be bad. Luckily, none of the other order members, save Moody, Lupin, or Tonks, knew that information. That meant that he needed to find a way to help protect the rest. Knowledge is always the first part in protection, but that kind of knowledge could get someone killed.

“There is a way, though,” Dumbledore got up and looked at the many books he had in his office. There could be a way that this could be used to their advantage. He needed someone to help train the students if this problem turned into a crisis. But from what Charles had said in his note, the boy wasn't even finished with his schooling yet. He needed two more years before he was fully done. But that didn't mean he knew of certain magical skills. “It is a possibly.”

Dumbledore searched his bookshelf for a moment. A long time ago, he read a book about the elemental properties within the world. With this new development, it would probably be best to find someone who could teach those abilities. At least then his students wouldn't be left in the dark when the news of this new terror finally came into play.

He finally found the book that he wanted. The Elemental Properties of the World by Aeonos Al'Takos. Quite an odd name, but given the books old age, it seemed to fit. Dumbledore went back to his chair and began to read it. It had been so long since he had used his element, that he hoped that he was still proficient. Maybe it is like riding a bike.

“Certainly is, Professor,” a voice echoed the room. Dumbledore was immediately standing and had his wand drawn. He wasn't expecting anyone, and knew that it was impossible to apparate into Hogwarts. “It is, but who apparated?” Dumbledore looked around the room, trying to find his intruder.

“I demand that you show yourself.” His voice boomed through the room. A blue aura glowed around Dumbledore, showing his anger. No one had ever entered his room without his permission.

“I'd rather not, thank you.” The voice replied. Dumbledore's aura grew and stood out at least a foot away from him. A chuckle came from the darkness. “But if you insist.” A man stepped out of the shadows. His face was beast-like, and fangs showed in his mouth. Skin darker than sin itself covered the creature's face, which was probably why he blended in with the shadows. He had cloak on, which shifted with his surrounds, almost like an invisibility cloak. But the smile, the smile was the worst part of him. It seemed almost excited about something. And for the first time in Dumbledore's life, he didn't have any idea of what he was going to do or how he was going to deal with this creature.

* * * * * *

Harry and Roland were shopping through a Department Store when Harry noticed that Roland was no longer following him. Since they had entered the giant mall, Harry had lead the way, going where he wanted to, with Roland following. But now the man was standing still, almost looking around. “Damn it.” Harry heard him whisper. He turned around to face Roland, and who wasn't even staring forward any more. He was facing east, but for the life of Harry, he couldn't figure out why.

“What's wrong?” Harry asked, but apparently nothing, because a smile slipped onto Roland's face.

“Nothing,” he said. “Problem solved itself.” He quickly caught up to Harry. “Come, I know there has to be shops that you would like to see.” But Harry knew that there was something wrong, at least for a moment. But now wasn't the time to ask about. There were other things that had precedent.

* * * * * *

Dumbledore was amazed at the man in white standing in front of him. He had appeared right from the fire in a glorious light, but some odd reason, Dumbledore didn't trust this man anymore then the creature. It was like the aura of this man told the Headmaster this man's life and how horrible he had acted. Still, he couldn't leave this man without a thank you. “I really must thank you, sir,” Dumbledore said weary of this man. “It has been a long time since I have faced one of those creatures.”

“No thanks needed,” the man said. He turned around and faced the Headmaster, and Dumbledore was surprised to see the man bore white globes for eyes. He had white hair that was tied in a ponytail. He wore a long white sleeveless robe that covered most of his body. “I just came where I was told.”

“A Hunter sent you this way then,” Dumbledore said, his smile coming back. He was right then, in assuming this creature's origin.

“How did you…” the man started to ask, but a smile came to his face. “You're Albus Dumbledore aren't you?” The Headmaster nodded. “By the Gods, it is an honor to meet you, sir. I've heard many things about you upstairs.” The man held out his hand and Dumbledore shook it gently.

“And you are …” Dumbledore trailed off, hoping to get a name.

“Oh, yes, um…” The man trailed off, thinking for a moment. “Ah, yes, my name is Eonos, and I am a Peacemaker of the Choir of Angels.”

“A Choir of Angels,” Dumbledore smiled widely. “This is wonderful.” He walked over to his chair and picked up his book. “Then you can help me.”

“Wait, you don't want to know more about me or who sent me, or anything like that?” Dumbledore shook his head. “Why?”

“As much as your aura gives away, I've been able to theorize many things about you,” Dumbledore said. “Like for example, you are ethereal like most of the time until you are called upon by a Hunter, like now. Also, you aren't an ordinary Angel either. No, you're different. But I doubt, from your appearance, you are a fallen one.”

“Wow,” Eonos relaxed on one of the side table. “How much do you know?”

“Only what I remember from this book,” Dumbledore held up the book that was in his hand a few moments ago. “Quite a good amount of information on Angels and Demons and how they affect the Elements.”

“Oh,” was all Eonos said. He paused for a moment, trying to understand that a mortal knew of his world. The Angel changed the subject. “Earlier you said you wanted my help.”

“Yes, I was wondering if you could advise me on someone, preferably a Hunter, to take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore replied. Eonos didn't reply for a while, apparently thinking about something. Dumbledore opened up the book that he held and read it while waiting.

“No direct interference?” The Headmaster looked up at the Angel.

“Of course not,” Dumbledore replied, but didn't quite understand. It had to do with an Angel's Creed; he really did have to read that book again. “Just advice, not direct help.”

“Okay then,” Eonos replied, “I'll send the best man who for the job in a few days.” He held out his hand. “And it was an honor to meet you, Professor.” Dumbledore took and thanked the man for saving his life. “Well, I'd best get going.”

“Before you go,” Dumbledore said, “give the Hunter who sent you my thanks.”

“Anything for you, sir,” Eonos nodded. “Like I said, you are a hero upstairs. Good bye, sir.” He disappeared in a bright flash of white light, leaving a smiling Dumbledore. It was quite possible that this year would be all right. There were still a few things that needed to be worked out, but it was just possible. Dumbledore smiled as he sat back down, and began reading the book that he held. Everything may be all right.

* * * * * *

It was around five when Harry and Roland finally stopped shopping. Harry had at least three different bags he was carrying and five others back at the limo. He was surprised at how much he could find that he wanted. And all the time Roland didn't complain about how much he was spending. There had to six hundred pounds worth of clothes in the limo. Roland had bought some items too, but nothing in comparison to Harry. After their first store that they bought some clothes in, Harry immediately changed out of his clothes. He found out that they weren't transfigured only cloaked in an illusion, which turned to another thing that he had to ask Roland about.

They stopped at the food court, and ordered food from the various places. Harry was a bit thrown back by the amount of people and the variety of the food, but he quickly caught on, and just ordered something from a sub sandwich place. He found Roland already eating a rather large salad, with two cheeseburgers next to him and a large drink. “You are actually going to eat all that?” he asked.

“Probably more,” Roland replied. “I've been starving since twelve.”

“We could've stopped sooner,” Harry said. He began to think that it was fault they didn't stop sooner. Harry was perfectly fine and Roland wasn't complaining.

“Naw, you were having too much fun,” Roland smirked. “It wasn't like I was dying or something.” He added at the last moment. “yet.” Roland shrugged his shoulders and picked up the burger, eating it quickly.

“Bloody hell, you eat faster then Ron,” Harry said, and Roland just finished off the first burger. “How do you store all that food?”

“I don't,” Roland opened up the other burger, “I use the energy.” Harry was perplexed by Roland's answer and just watched his finish off the burger in a few bites.

“What do you mean?” Harry understood that magic had to come from somewhere, basic physics. He always thought that it was used when you used magic. But Roland wasn't using magic that Harry could see. “You're using magic now?” he said at a whisper.

“Something like that, Harry,” Roland smirked. “You learn things when you spend hours upon hours in the library.”

“Good, now you sound like Hermione,” Harry replied.

“Well, I have to,” Roland said, looking down the mess he had made. “I'm not a natural, like some people. No, it took me a long time to understand half of the things you learn in the first week.” Quickly, he shoveled the trash onto a tray and stood up. “Eat something for the Gods' sake; you're nothing but skin and bones.” Harry watched as he walked away throw out his garbage and to get more food.

This left Harry with his thoughts. He was still upset about Sirius, but his talks with Roland had been a distraction, as had his anticipation to today. It seemed that Roland was distracting him almost. Since the first day that he had met the man, Harry couldn't help but be happy. He didn't really get a chance to be upset. But now, he had a chance to think for the first time in a while. And think Harry did.

He thought about the short time that he spent with Sirius and how much joy it brought him. He thought of how the look on his godfather's face when Harry finally got to live with him, and how it greatly affected his life. He thought of the gifts that he had gotten from his Sirius for his birthdays each year that he had known him. His sadness and despair slowly came back to him. He felt the tears come to his eyes, but held them back. “Really, I thought that we had worked on this,” Roland said, sitting down. When Harry looked up, he noticed a tray filled with food, and Roland was already starting on the drink. “But then again, it could just be…” he trailed off as he ate, leaving Harry to it thoughts.

Harry tried to get happier thoughts, but for some odd reason, all his bad thoughts kept coming back. He thought of Sirius and the veil. He thought of how he didn't listen to Hermione. He thought of how Hermione got hurt because of him, and his bullheadedness. Damn, he was the fault of all the death around him. His parents were just the first, then Cedric and now Sirius. Everyone he loved or knew died because of him. His anger soared as he thought of how he would destroy that man for what he has done to his life and world and-

“Damn it, Harry,” Roland said, getting up quickly. Harry snapped out of his trance and noticed the shattered glass near them. His anger had caused his wandless magic to go haywire and destroy something. “Fuck, even my magic isn't the out of control.” There was no one around, luckily, but that wasn't what he was worried about.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Harry said. He knew he was in trouble this time. The ministry said that if he used magic one more time outside of school, he would get expulsed. That could be possibly the worst thing that could happen.

“What?” Roland asked. He took his seat and unwrapped a taco. “What happened now?” he didn't seem upset about the destroyed table, but the people around them were.

Harry held his head in his palms and shook it. “The ministry is going to expel me.” He just knew that was going to happen, but Roland laughed at the idea. “What's so funny?”

“Gods,” he said, “I would love to see them do that.” He had finished the small stack of tacos and was working on the sub sandwich he had gotten.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“If you get a letter tonight, read it, you'll find out.” Roland had quickly eaten the sandwich and was chugging his drink. “Trust me on this, it'll be a laugh.” He stood up and picked up his bags. “You can eat in the rest of your sandwich in the limo if you wish.”

“We're going?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, sorta promised the Order to have you back before nightfall,” Roland shrugged, “and Hermione as well. I don't fear them as I do her.” Harry laughed at the comment. Even he knew that Hermione was a force to be reckoned with. Seeing her at the Ministry proved that. Harry just hoped that one day he could be as good at magic as she was. “C'mon.” Roland grabbed Harry, and pulled him up. The Boy-Who-Lived quickly packed away his sandwich. Roland allowed him time to pick up the bags that he was carrying, but they just left as two security guards were coming.

Harry looked up as, Roland, who was supposed to be acting as a blind man was leading them around. In one hand were his bags, and the other was on Harry's shoulder. He held a walking cane in it as well, and his dark sunglasses were covering his eyes. It had to be pretty funny to watch, but it also had to attract attention. A smile formed on his face as he thought about the looks on people's faces.

“If you could lead us out, Harry,” Roland finally said, as they stopped out in front of JC Penny's. “My sight gets distorted in enclosed areas.” Harry was about to open his mouth, but Roland quickly, caught him. “Don't ask, I'll explain later.” So, Harry took the lead and with Roland's hand still on his shoulder, led the man of the mall.

“Where's the-” Harry was about to ask, but the black limo came screeching up. “Oh.” Was all that he could say. The door opened almost automatically, and Roland got in. Harry quickly followed, placing his bags near him. The limo sped off, and Roland relaxed in his seat. “What was that about?”

“Well, I figured that we needed to get out of there pretty fast.” He paused, taking deep breathes, “Don't like security guards too much. Cause too much trouble.”

“But what about the table and-” Roland waved a hand and Harry stopped.

“They'll take care of it.” The man in black shifted for a moment, and leaned his head back. “Nope, nothing we are going to do, except wait `til we get back and you can get your clothes and other stuff up to your room.” Harry thought that Roland was trying to get some sleep, so didn't want to bother him with questions yet.

Instead, he drew back into his thoughts. He wondered how Remus and Tonks and Moody were doing. One of them was supposed to check on him, but with Roland here, that took care of the Order. Hermione hadn't sent him a letter in a long time. And Ron, he thought, was not speaking to him, about something or another. Maybe he could talk to Remus about this. Roland was fine and all, and got Harry to admit the fact that he did have a problem. But he needed to talk to someone who knew him, at least a bit. In the end, Harry wished to find the peace that needed. Roland had helped cope with it for a while, but that sorrow and despair that he was feeling remained. It now seemed to crawl back to him, and Harry needed to get a few things off his chest. Hopefully, Remus would be available for him to talk to tomorrow. Harry slowly drifted off to sleep, too. He was exhausted from his shopping experience. He didn't even see the large black owl come with a letter from the Ministry.

* * * * * *

Night had already fallen when her cousin returned. Hermione was staying up late, hoping to at least get a few words in. She had gone to visit Ron that day, but he was off with the twins doing something. So instead, she worked with Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. Hermione was a bit upset because of that, but quickly got over it after spending a day baking. She never knew that cooking could be so much fun. It made her so relaxed and happy just doing something as simple as baking a cake. And when Ron finally returned (just before Hermione left too), he was so happy that she had made a cake. He thought it was for him, but it was a start. He smiled and told her how beautiful she was. They only had a few minutes together, but they made the best of them. Hermione blushed at that thought, and hope that her parents never found out.

“Hello there, Hermy,” Roland said in a sweet voice. Hermione jumped nearly out of her favorite chair. No sound had come from anywhere in the house, Hermione would have heard. And she was sitting in front of the door, watching it for her cousin. Then how did her cousin get in?

Hermione sighed, and held up a hand for Roland to help her up. “A bit late for such a fragile, young girl isn't it, cousin?” his tone was obnoxious and sarcastic, so obviously he must be a good mood.

“Very funny, Roland,” she replied, straitening her nightgown. It was silk white and she wore a t-shirt over. “And I told you before not to call me that.” Her anger echoed in the back of her throat.

“Right, it's only for your boyfriend to call you by nicknames.” Hermione tried to hit in the shoulder, by he moved out of the way.

“No,” she said, “I don't even allow him to shorten my name.” Hermione turned around and crossed her arms. “I like my name and am proud of it, thank you very much.”

“Okay,” Hermione heard Roland start walk away, but he stopped and added, “Oh, yeah, Harry says thank you for pushing me to take him shopping.” Excitement took over, and for few moments, Hermione forgot to be mad at her cousin.

“He did,” she asked, “you did?” A nod followed each question and Hermione wrapped her arms around Roland after the last one. “Thank you so much.” Roland smiled at Hermione. “How did he like it; did he enjoy shopping?” She released him, and looked up with expectations.

“Getting out of those dastardly clothes is enough for anyone to enjoy shopping, Hermione.” His smile remained on his dark face, but was the extent at which Hermione could see it. “It's bed time, so why don't we head up and get some sleep.”

“Are you going to leave as early?” A look of hope appeared on her face. Roland had left from the Granger's house at least by eight, and Hermione had barely anytime to see him anymore. She wanted to talk to him about the books he left. She also wanted to hear more about the American Wizarding schools. They seemed so much different then the ones in Europe. But most of all, she just wanted to spend time with her cousin. She missed him.

“No, I have a few days off,” Roland said. A smile came to her face at the idea of being with her cousin. “I plan on spending it. I just have a few things to do tomorrow-” Hermione's face dropped. “But none of it involves me leaving the house.” He shrugged his shoulders. “So, I'll be here to talk to you on just about anything you want to talk about.”

“Thanks,” she gave him another hug, and then hurried upstairs. There was so much that she wanted him to teach her. By even having the books that he did, Roland must at least know something. He might be even willing to tell her about that man and Phoenix person. Yes, he must know something about those people; after all, he talked to one of them. Maybe he was the person she could talk to about them.

* * * * * *

“Well, Thomas,” a young man's voice echoed the dark halls where Voldemort held his meetings. “It seems that my son has befriended both of them. Just as we predicted.” The man picked up another piece of what looked like raw meat on a thighbone of a large animal and ate it. “A delicious piece here, are you sure you don't want to try some, Thomas?”

“As I have told you before, Balefor,” Voldemort's voice was easily recognizable, though he was not seen. “I have asked you to call me by proper name, Lord Voldemort.”

“Yes,” Balefor replied, “well, you will have to get used to it, Thomas. He will use every thing in his power to stop you.”

“Of, course I know that,” Voldemort screamed. “I know what your son is capable of.”

“It seems that you haven't heard all of the prophecy, yet.” Balefor smiled and stood up. “As much as my son is capable of doing, it is the Potter boy you will wish to watch out for. His destiny is far greater then my son's. In the end, the fight will come down to you or him. And I will make sure of this.” His elongated fingers were tented in front of him as his feet glided across the floor to in front the Dark Lord. Long white hair was flowing down his back, but his eyes were remained hided by the shadows.

“What about Dumbledore and his precious Order?” Voldemort asked. “Can you be certain-” a hand was raised by Balefor, and Voldemort stopped.

“I know for a fact that my son will make sure that this prophecy will be fulfilled.” Balefor smiled. “He is quite a sucker for prophecies.”

Voldemort's mind was spinning at that thought, and thought of a plan quickly and smile came to his face. “You can leave if you wish or finish your dinner.”

“I must say,” Balefor turned back to the table he was just at. “That woman was rather declivous, are you sure there is none of her left?”

“You can check with the kitchens, but I ask that you do not eat anymore of my Death Eaters,” Voldemort waved a hand, dismissing the Demon. “I'm afraid that they would complain to me about it. And certainly do not wish to deal with it.” Voldemort sat back in his chair, and began to think about the little tidbit that Balefor had just given him. It could be severely useful in the up and coming weeks.

* * * * * *

The same figure who watched over Number Four, Privet Drive for the past two weeks was upset by this new revelation. What was the half-breed doing with the boy? There was no reason for that man to get involved with his master's plans. He was a simple waste of space, no matter how much his master did like the man. He isn't even proud of his heritage. The man had no sense of history.

The figure stared at the house for a moment. But it doesn't really matter. The boy will die in soon in a few days, even with that stupid charm of his. He turned around and walked away, smiling his fanged smile at the thought of eating that much power from the boy. Even a hand would give me more power.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.0.0

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Chapter 4: Headaches

Author's Note: Okay, just a few notes

Coolone007: that wasn't James…

Izzieq: Pride giveth and pride taketh away. You'll see a change in her later. Just give it time.

Again, thank you to Audrey and the Twisted Angel. JK Rowlings owns Harry Potter, Marvel Comics owns X-men and Doctor Strange. I happen to own Roland and the plot.

* * * * * *

Hermione woke up the next day with a dull headache. It was right about her right eye, and just ached. She got up and quickly placed her robe on, before heading to the bathroom. And as far as she could tell, there was nothing wrong about her, besides looking a bit disheveled from waking up. There were small circles under her eyes from all-nighters, studying for the O.W.L.S. or some other test, but they were barely noticeable. The cinnamon eyes stared at her. She wasn't beautiful, Hermione knew that, but when Ron said she was… oh, it brightened up her spirits. It had taken five years but he had finally noticed her as a girl. Hermione certainly smiled more often.

But there were times when he could have cared less about it, when they fell back into their old routine. Just before she left yesterday, they got into a big fight, over the fact that she had to go. It was ridiculous. Ron wasn't even around the entire day, and yelled at Hermione for leaving when she had to. God, that boy made her so mad sometimes. Now, Harry, on the other hand. Hermione doubted that there was a time when she was actually mad at him. True, they argued sometimes and stopped speaking for a while, but she was never truly mad at him. Upset and disappointed at times, but never mad.

Hermione finally decided that it was time for her to get ready for the day. Taking a quick look outside the bathroom, Hermione ran back to her room, grabbed some clothes to change into after her shower and ran back to the bathroom. Although she was wearing a robe, Hermione was never one for people seeing in her pajamas, even her parents. That one day when she knew that it was just her and Roland didn't seem to bother her too much though, for some reason. It was as if she was just more comfortable with him, not like she was with Harry. It was almost a safe feeling; that Roland wouldn't judge her.

The shower went quickly, and Hermione put on what little make-up she had and knew how to use. Her mother finally decided to buy her some and teach her how to use it. Hermione decided that it was certainly worth it as Ron complemented her on her new appearance. She blushed at that thought. I wonder what he would say about me. Hermione spun in front of the mirror. She wore a basic blouse, and blue jeans, nothing special. But she felt different. Again, she thought of Harry and his opinion. “I wonder what Harry would say about me?” she asked herself.

“He'd say you were a scarlet woman who took too long in the bathroom,” Roland's voice came through the door, and Hermione blushed even redder. “Now get out of there if you are done, so I can use it for the day.”

“Okay, just give me a few more minutes,” she replied, and heard Roland's breath of exasperation.

“Fine, just hurry up.” Roland's footsteps marked him walking away from the bathroom. “You have five minutes.” Hermione giggled before rushing to get her make-up put away under the counter. She quickly picked up her clothes, towel and robe when she heard Roland counting. “Five…Four…Three…Two…” Hermione opened the door and smiled at Roland.

“All yours,” Roland smirked and Hermione stuck out her tongue. He was wearing just a pair of black workout pants. As he entered, Roland messed up her bushy head of hair, and walked inside. Hermione scowled at him as he closed the door. “You're welcome.”

“And you're not,” Roland replied. Hermione laughed as she went to put her pajamas back in her room. Her cousin was so laid back, even more then Ron and Harry. He just flowed with the times, but there was so much that she wanted to know, like why was so he old and still learning to be wizard; what was his life like after the crash that killed his parents? Roland was an enigma to her, and that, Hermione didn't like. No, she didn't like that at all, and there was nothing that a book would tell her about it.

Hermione didn't even hear the shower turn on, but she did notice when it was shut off. She looked over at her clock, and noticed that Roland had been in the bathroom for twenty minutes. That meant that she was sitting there wasting the day. Quickly Hermione grabbed one of the books that Roland had allowed her read and rushed downstairs. As she ran, she heard Roland yell through the bathroom door, “don't eat anything, I'm making breakfast.” Hermione sighed; she was hungry, but decided to wait for whatever Roland was going to cook. From the lunches that he had made for her, Hermione knew that he was a halfway decent cook.

Sitting down on her favorite chair, Hermione opened up the book and began to read. It discussed the Elements and their obvious effects on life. Of the most common elements, Earth and Air have almost been known to wed and become one. Their chemistry together is often seen as soul mates. Though they can marry outside of this combination, it is rare for that to happen. Earth and Air find that having that distinction of their elements makes the worlds a difference. Pausing just for a moment, Hermione wondered what element she was. Yesterday, she briefly skimmed the book on Elements, but found this one to be more interesting. Now, she might actually have to fully read the other one. It was just that the text was so long and dull, and took forever to get to the point. Not knowing her element was beginning to annoy her, especially when there seemed to be a lot related to them.

Broken footsteps came down the stairs, and Hermione knew that Roland was having an off day with his knee. He was limping already and it wasn't even ten. “Bad day?” she asked without looking up from her book.

“All that walking took a lot out of me,” he said walking up behind Hermione. “Whatcha reading?”

“One of your stupid books,” she replied, and looked up at Roland glaring at her. Hermione returned the glare before smiling, and sticking out her tongue at him. Roland laughed and messed up her hair some more. “Don't do that, okay?” he was wearing his normal black outfit.

“You're never going to get it to do anything, you know that,” Roland walked into the kitchen. “You inherited the Granger's Curse.”

“And what is that?” Hermione twisted around to glare at her cousin

“All the Granger women have extremely wild hair, whether it is bushy, curly or just won't cooperate, it's just that way. My mom explained it too me,” Roland had disappeared into the kitchen. “I found it rather funny.”

“I remember my mum explaining something like that,” Hermione replied, “but she didn't' call it the Granger's Curse.” She looked back at the book.

“I'm making French toast for breakfast,” Roland yelled from the kitchen. “Along with bacon and some fruit.” Hermione ignored him for the moment and continued to read. This bond has enabled the Earth and Air elements to have extraordinary abilities comparable only to the Shadow element. Each can use the abilities of their mate as if they were their own. For example, an Earth element cannot fly, no matter how hard they try. But if they are in love with an Air element, consciously or sub-consciously, then they could fly as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Another example is that Air elements are often frightened easily and fall to others without a second thought. However, if they have found their mate, whether they know it or not, then they are the most stubborn person you would know. That was certainly odd. The way Hermione understood it; the Earth or Air elements didn't even have to know that they were in love in order for the abilities to take affect.

“Well, I really need to read that other book,” Hermione finally decided. Now she was really curious about what Element she was. A bell came from no where, and Hermione looked around. Where did that sound come from? She looked over at the kitchen table and saw that it was set. Roland had finished cooking and set an elegant breakfast table. Her jaw dropped at the sight of it. A beautiful flower arrangement was the center piece. There were two champagne glasses, filled with orange juice. And the smell, oh, Hermione nearly died when she caught the smell.

“Well, come in and eat,” Roland said. He was placing a final plate of something on the table and then sat down in one of the chairs. “The food isn't getting any better, Hermione.” She immediately got out of her chair and rushed over to the table, book in hand. Hermione paused at the slight of the food. Fresh fruit was cut and placed in little decorative bowls in front of the two plates that held little origami doves made out of their napkins. The French toast was stacked in alternating patterns on another plate, with a little gravy bowl for the maple syrup. The fact that he had accomplished the breakfast so quickly was amazing. She took her seat and grabbed a few of the French toast. “Hey, leave some for the rest of me.”

Hermione didn't even notice the fact that she took about five pieces of the toast. But when she looked over at Roland's plate, she noticed that it was already covered in syrup and he was shoving a final piece of what looked like three pieces into his mouth. “And I thought Ron was the human disposable.” Roland looked up with a confused look on his face and Hermione just laughed.

“I don't commit gluttony, Hermione,” Roland said, “I use the food.” He grabbed three more and began to skillfully cut them.

“Sure,” she replied, and got back to eating her own food. They ate in silence with Hermione reading her book and left Roland to his own thoughts. She got through almost half the book when it finally began to talk about the Light and Shadow elements. The two most opposing elements in the world, Light and Shadow, are often viewed as good and evil, right and wrong, order and chaos. But this has been proven wrong. Throughout history, there has never been a single Shadow element that was evil. An interesting theory that proves why almost all of the Shadow elements fought for the Lord came about during the Great War of 14790 A.C. This war brought about the most death amongst the wizarding world, and more so the muggle world. But it was a Shadow element that was born of the enemy that saved the lives of many, and ultimately ended the war with his own life. This brought forth the theory that all Shadow elements are ultimately good, for it is through their darkness that the light of hope can be shown.

I can't believe that, Hermione thought. How can someone get something so backwards? The shadow elements can't be good; it defies everything that we are ever taught. A being of darkness cannot be good. This was finally the topic that broke the silence. “Roland, this can't be right,” Hermione said, and looked up at her cousin.

“Really, how so?” he replied. Roland stood up and limped over to her.

“It says that a Shadow element is good,” Hermione looked up at Roland, “how can that be? Darkness is always told as evil, and-”

“Easy there, Hermione,” Roland replied, “Don't get confused. And you are right by the way,” Hermione beamed with pride. “About evil being darkness” she frowned. “But a shadow is something different. And science most recently has proven that.”

“Ooh, I remember an article on that.” Hermione sat back in her chair. “It talked about the scientific breakthrough on proving an opposite to the proton, and virtually proving antimatter's existence. They called the particle Aeonosium. If I remember correctly, it was found by a Doctor Dem…” Hermione trailed off and looked at Roland. “It was you, wasn't?” he smiled and looked away. “It was, oh, this is so exciting.” Hermione got in her information mode and looked like she wasn't going to stop. She began to ask questions about how he found, what tests he ran and only stopped because Roland put a hand up.

“Can we get back to the subject that you ask for by the way,” Roland asked, and Hermione nodded. Again, he didn't want to talk about it. But Hermione would get this information from him. She glared at him and hoped that he got her look. “Not now, at least.” Good, he did. “But you are right, that particle is the opposite of light, in every way imaginable. This particle makes up a shadow. We've yet to figure out what happens when light passes through an object to cause that to happen, but we do know that we get Aeonosium. Now we know that all of the elements, magical ones, are realistic concepts?” Hermione nodded. “Good that means we can manipulate them, right?” again a nod. “By now you're probably wondering what this has to do with Shadow elements being relatively good.” The truth was that Hermione wasn't, she was too caught up the fact that Roland had found something so amazing, but she wasn't going to admit that Roland.

“What is chaos?” Roland asked.

“Anarchy, pure civil disorder,” Hermione started.

“Disorder was the word that I was looking for. Now, what is light?”

“Light is the combination of different colors acting in a…” Hermione slow down, and a smile came to her face. She figured out why Shadow elements were most good and order like. If Aeonosium were the opposite of a proton, then it would act in an orderly way, unlike the proton. And if order was the representative of good then that would mean- “Roland, that's brilliant.” Hermione replied. Her smiled had disappeared as she thought. “Light is seen as chaotic and then Shadow, as it's opposite, is orderly, and through for good.” She smiled again. “And it makes perfect sense too. How did the people back then get so advanced?”

Roland gave Hermione a look like she was off on something, but didn't say anything. “Well, their ways weren't really proved by science, rather by faith. They believed that there were multiple gods who watched over them and protected them from the ultimate evil.” Roland shrugged. “They just happened to get it right.” He picked up her plate. “Now, you can help me with dishes then finish that book, there is a lot of useful information in it. After that, I should be done with what business I need to do and we can discuss it if you want.” Roland grabbed a few other things and balanced then on his arms with the grace of a waiter. Hermione was about to ask if she should just do it, but knew that Roland was more than capable to do it, even if he was blind. She had seen him walk around the house with ease the moment he arrived. Hermione was guessing that it had something to do with magic, but didn't really know what. That was just another question to add to her list.

* * * * * *

When Harry woke up in the morning, he felt immense headache throbbing around his scar. When he reached up and felt it, there was some sort of liquid covered his scar. Pulling his hand away, Harry found that it was blood. He looked around and found that his pillow was covered in it. He nearly screamed in terror but held back and took a few deep breathes. Harry went through a mental check list. He knew that he hadn't gone through his plan yet, and that he didn't feel any pain from Voldemort the night before, he would have woken up. No, something else had happened, he just wish he knew what did happen.

But Harry did know that Uncle Vernon was going to kill him for making this mess. It was bad enough that Harry wasn't doing work around the house, but now that blood had soaked the sheet, Harry just knew that his uncle was going to kill him. He really needed to talk to Remus. Hopefully Hedwig had gotten his letter to his old professor and was on her way back. And that Uncle Vernon remembered what Moody, Tonks, Remus and Kingdley had warned and would obey their command. Then Harry wouldn't have to be beaten anymore. He shook at that thought. When Uncle Vernon was on one of his sprees, it was the only time when Harry feared the man. Despite the fact that most of it looked like fat, Harry learned the hard way that it was more muscle then fat. He rubbed his left shoulder from where Uncle Vernon last hit him. The pain was still there.

Harry got up and looked over at his wand. With a simple swish and flick the mess would be gone, and there would be no trouble. But Harry had not wished to be expelled with only two years left in his schooling career. No, he would just have to bear the wrath of his uncle. That was another thing to add to list. Unbeknownst to Roland, or maybe known, Harry had been making a list of all the reason why or why not to follow through with his original plan. Despite Roland's short intervention, it hadn't helped much. At least Harry knew what was bothering, but he was in no mood to try to fix them. He knew that some problems would never be fixed. Like no one will love me.

Shaking himself out of his own thoughts, Harry looked down at the blood stained shirt he was now sporting. He sighed; it was one of his old shirts lucky, so that meant none of his new cloths were ruined. Harry felt that he wasn't even going to wear them until he got out of the house. The less that the Dursleys knew he had, the better. Hell, if they didn't even know that he was alive, that would have been the greatest thing in the world. But no. Dumbledore and his stupid protection spells forced him to stay at this damned house and be tortured by the inhabitants. There another thing to add to the ever growing list that he had created.

He sighed as he took off his shirt. There was so much to think about, like Hermione and Ron, Sirius, Voldemort, and mutants. His mind paused at that last part. The whole world knew about them, which meant the Dursleys knew, too. Bloody Hell. Harry sat down even more depressed on his bed. If they had even a sense of intelligence in their minds than they could pull of that scam. A wizard is no more than a mutant who has grown through a race. They had abnormal abilities, and the Dursleys certainly didn't like anything abnormal. They could use wizardry as an excuse to hurt him even more. The fear of his uncle returned, and Harry didn't even know if he should tell them. Bloody hell, he thought one final time. There was something else to add to the bloody list. That bloody thing was just getting longer and longer.

The side which told him not to go through with the plan was rather short, but had more realistic ideas on it. Like the fact that he needed to kill Voldemort, as he was the only one who had the power. It was rather ironic that the boy that Voldemort was so much like was the one who would destroy him. That bloody prophecy had foretold the destruction of either Voldemort or Harry. Oh, bloody hell, that was the only reason holding Harry back from the knife right now. He had duty to finish. His only hope was that it would end with Voldemort and Harry's death. If not, then it would end shortly after that day.

Another thing that was on that list, surprisingly enough, was Hermione and Ron. They were his best friends in the world, even if they were now a couple. Harry knew how disappointed they would be if he did follow through with it, especially Hermione. She was always so logical and Harry doubted she could even understand what was happening to him now; what he was feeling. But he wasn't even going to tell anyone, not even Roland. There was just something about that man. As much as he wanted to trust him, Harry couldn't. There was this aura about him almost like Dumbledore, but it seemed to mask this other one, one that reminded Harry of Voldemort. Harry couldn't explain it, but it was there, and that was what scared him. His eyes were what scared him, not the mutant powers, but the ability to mask what ever he was hiding. He created a simple illusion without a word. So what else was that man hiding?

Harry questioned many things in his life, but the main one was whether or not he was ever going to find love in the world. He was a constant target for Voldemort, and so would whomever he loved. Harry could not put someone through that. No, his best bet was to distant himself from all those he cared about, just so he could get this over with as soon as possible. That way no one would get hurt because of someone who was after him. He and he alone should suffer.

“Boy,” Uncle Vernon yelled from down stair. Harry sighed. What now? He just changed his shirt and pants and walked down stair to see what the problem was. “We're in the living room.” He sighed again, and walked solemnly to the living room.

In there was Professor Lupin and Tonks. They were talking rather animatedly with Aunt Petunia about something, and she was actually laughing. And it wasn't one of her forced laughs that his aunt used with Uncle Vernon's clients. But here it was, an actual laugh. That surprised Harry; he had never seen his aunt happy around wizards, let along laughing. Something was certainly not right.

“Ah,” Tonks said smiling, but that smile quickly disappeared when she looked at him. “What happened to you?” Bloody hell. Harry had forgotten about the dried blood on his forehead. He had to think of something quickly.

“Oh, nothing,” he replied, “just a small cut.”

“A small cut, huh?” Lupin got up and walked over to Harry. “It is around your entire scar Harry. Did something happen last night?”

“Not that I know of,” Harry said, but only got looks from both of them. “Honestly, I didn't feel a thing. It was just when I woke up this morning; my entire bed was covered in blood.”

“What?” Uncle Vernon bellowed. “How dare that-”

“Oh, relax dear,” Aunt Petunia said, “it's not a big deal, we can just clean it later.” She turned to her husband. “Why don't we get out shopping done for the day, okay sweetheart?” She wrapped an arm around Uncle Vernon's and walked out the room. “I have a few things that I want to get done.” Harry looked at then walking out, and then back at Tonks and Lupin. Both of them were smiling.

“What are you two smiling about?” he asked.

“It's a amazing what a simple calming charm can do,” Tonks said, she was smiling about the fact.

“I still can't believe that I agreed to that.” Lupin shook his head and took a seat. Harry raised an eyebrow at him. “Tonks here casted a calming spell on Aunt Petunia and she was nice to us ever since.” Harry couldn't help but smile. “Now, go get cleaned up you, and then Tonks here will take a look at that wound.”

Harry laughed as he washed. He liked Lupin and Tonks; they always tried to make him feel comfortable and safe. Harry would hate leaving them. He came back with a frown, but neither of them asked why. “Now, Harry,” Tonks said, “let me see your scar.” Harry sighed. “Don't you give me that tone, mister.” Her face quickly changed to one that looked like Aunt Petunia. Lupin held back a laugh and a smile crossed Harry's face. “Now come here.” Harry was hesitant, but walked over to Tonks. She and Lupin were sitting awfully close together on the couch, but Harry didn't mention it.

“You're not going to turn into Mrs. Weasley, are you?” Harry asked.

“What do you mean?” Tonks asked, her face changing into Mrs. Weasley's. This brought forth the laugh from Harry.

“I mean, all mother-like,” Harry replied. “I liked you when you just acted like I was one of the team, not some fragile child who needed to be pampered.”

Tonks laughed and her face changed back. “Okay,” she said, “just as long as you know that there are people who will care for you if you ask for it.” Harry nodded. “Now, how were your days with Roland?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. That was part of the reason why he had sent the letter. But now, Harry wasn't quite sure what he wanted to talk about. “I'm not sure,” Harry replied, “I mean I had a good time, but there were some things…” he took a seat in Uncle Vernon's favorite chair.

“You felt it too then, huh,” Lupin said.

“Remus said that as much as he trusts Roland, there is just something about him,” Tonks quickly said. She shrugged. “I don't feel a thing. He's a real nice guy. But-”

“Hah,” Harry smirked, “I knew there was a `but.'”

“But,” Tonks reiterated, “He's not my type. Too unstable.” Harry gave Tonks a weird look, as if asking `what do you mean?' “He was legally dead for ten minutes when he twelve, Harry.”

All Harry could say was, “Wow.” That could be the reason as to why Roland was a mutant. The news was saying that it usually took a traumatic incident for the mutant gene to arise. But what would the definition of traumatic experience be? Didn't what Harry go through with Sirius' death traumatic enough? Then shouldn't he be a mutant?

“What's wrong?” Lupin asked.

“If the mutant gene is triggered by a traumatic event,” Harry said, “Then shouldn't I be a mutant?” For a while there was silence, and that bothered Harry. So is that a yes, he wanted to ask, but didn't, rather he decided that they needed to think about their question.

“It is possible, Harry,” Tonks said, “Roland said-”

“Why does everything now have to concern him,” Harry shouted and stood up. He didn't even know why he did that, but his heart spoke true.

“Because he is the first open mutant we have in the Order, Harry,” Lupin finally replied. Harry turned to his friend, and pointed a finger. His old professor nodded. “Tonks, too.” Harry mouthed the word, oh and took a seat.

“Speaking for myself,” Tonks said, “I didn't even know I was a mutant.”

“How is that possible?”

“A Metamorphmagus ability,” Tonks looked down at the ground, “that's the reason why it is so rare for a person's genes to be right in order for such a useful ability. At least that is what Professor X said.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “He's the man who works with mutants in America. He is a belated wizard, almost a squib.” He nodded, but didn't quite understand.

“My ability has to do with the lycanthropy,” Lupin said. “If it weren't for that, I would have complete control over the werewolf form.” He shrugged.

Harry didn't want to push the matter any further but he had to know. “Were my parents mutants, Professor?”

Lupin laughed. “I'm not your professor right now,” Right now what did that mean? “Just call me Remus.”

“Okay,” Harry replied. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable with that but would try for the sake of his friend. “But you didn't answer my question?”

Remus sighed. “Yeah, at least your Mum was. A telekinetic. It was rather funny to see her pick on James with that ability, even before they started to going out.” The old tired man laughed and Harry couldn't help but smile at the thought of his parents. “That was when we all first met Professor Charles Xavier. He was the man who help Lily get her powers under control when she was younger and came to the school for Padfoot.”

“Sirius was a mutant?” Harry asked; he was amazed. Harry lived with the man for almost all of last summer and never even knew. “I can't believe that.”

“Well, it isn't hard,” Tonks replied, “it wasn't until recently that mutant abilities have become more obvious.”

“Right,” Remus added. “And with Sirius, his was just as hidden as Lily's. He was a telepath.” That caused Harry's jaw to drop. “Don't be so surprised. That's why he was always so empathic around you, and partially why he escaped from Azkaban so easily. From what Sirius explained to me, you have to have a lot of control over the telepathy to prevent yourself from going insane. You have to close your mind to the world.” Harry just nodded. He was taking in so much.

“Don't act so surprise,” Tonks said, “mutant abilities are common within the wizarding world. We just use magic to explain it instead of science.”

“So that's why a metamporhmagus is a mutant ability, right?” Harry asked. “So would that mean an Animagus is also a mutant ability?”

“Sort of,” Remus replied. “It's complicated.”

“Oh,” Harry sat back in Uncle Vernon's chair and thought about it. If it was as complicated as that, then this wasn't really the time to talk about that. He decided to think about it some more. But now was the time for questions. “What's going on with Voldemort?” Neither cringed, but that didn't really surprise Harry. Tonks was an Auror, and Remus was, well, Remus. It was probably due to being in the Order.

“Not much,” Tonks said, “There has been an increase in missing Muggles, but I doubt that is due to Voldemort. Mostly he has been quiet, which is bothering me.”

“And the Ministry?”

Remus took this question. “With the amount of owls and the incident at the Ministry, Fudge has finally agreed to the rebirth of Voldemort. Aurors now comb Diagon Alley as well as any other highly populated wizarding area, save the schools.”

“The Educational Decrees?” Harry asked with high hopes. With Voldemort back, that could possibly mean a competent DADA teacher. And that he could play Quidditch again.

“All been repealed.” This finally brought a smile to Harry's face. He could play Quidditch again. Now, all he wondered was- “you're Firebolt is safely in the hands of Professor McGonagall.” Good, it was one of the few things he had left from Sirius. “I doubted even she would destroy such a great broom.”

For the next hour, they talked about the news in the wizarding world and the Order. He had gotten them to agree to at least think about tutoring him in preparation for the final battle. Harry wanted to be ready for anything, and what a better place to start then from then from an Auror and, well, Remus. Harry had more faith in him then he did the rest of the Order. Remus was the last thing that was a part of Harry's old family, and the Boy-Who-lived treasured that. Add that to the list, Harry doubted that Remus could survive another loss like he did with Sirius. He was the last of the Marauders and that was saying something given his disease.

The clock bellowed three and Harry realized that they had talked away the afternoon. And his relatives weren't even back from wherever they went to. “Oh my gosh,” Tonks said. She looked over to the clock. Harry smirked at her words. “We better get going. It's getting late.” The Auror stood up quickly, and Remus followed. “You take care of yourself, Harry.” Harry nodded his response. “We'll check on you in a few days, alright.” They quickly apparated out of the house, probably back to the Order Headquarters. The day went by so quickly that Harry didn't even have to think about much of his plan. He was happy, right? But, he would probably never find love. His best friends have found it, but it would never find Harry. After his little incident with Cho, Harry doubted that he wanted to date anyone else. It was just too much stress to deal with besides the prophecy. Harry was already having a hard time dealing with it, and he didn't need anymore.

Sighing, Harry decided that his best bet was to get as much done as possible in the house, like food or something. He went up stairs and cleaned up the mess that had occurred some time during the night. While the sheets were in the washer, Harry made himself some lunch and probably dinner too. Uncle Vernon was going to be upset because Wizards were in his house. This gave Harry a lot of time to think about what Remus and Tonks. There was something different about them today, from the last time he had seen them, and there was this bounce in Tonks' step, different then her normal one. And Remus, he was different then the man that Harry had seen the last time. There was this twinkle in his eye that wasn't there before, and just something else. Could it be love? Harry noticed how they were sitting awfully close and shooting glances towards each other. They also began to finish each other's sentences. That must be it, then. They were in love. Harry wondered if they knew about that. Probably didn't, all they were really doing was being friends with one another.

After pulling out his sheets from the dryer, Harry replaced them on his bed. What is love? Harry asked himself. Is love the will to die for someone else? In three cases now, three people have given their lives in order for Harry to live. And as far as Harry knew was that these people loved him. But about real love? Soul mates and all that bloody junk? He didn't know. His parents were in love from everything that he knew. But what defined it? What Ron and Hermione have, is that love? Harry doubted that. Despite what everything he heard about opposites attracting, Ron and Hermione were too different for anything real to happen. At least Harry hoped.

But did they love him? That was what bothered Harry the most. This action that they both did was something that was going to take a long time to heal. It didn't matter that they were going out, Harry could have cared less. He felt a slight burn in his heart but tossed it up to heartburn, and thought nothing else of it. No, his mind went back, the fact that they didn't think that they could tell me about it was what hurt the most. Harry's anger grew and he felt that he had to lie down just to get it gone. Focusing in on a happy thought, the anger slowly subsided. But Harry didn't want to move, or even think about more. He just wanted it to be over. He just wanted to finally rest.

* * * * * *

“Alright Hermione,” Roland said, “If you are so interested in finding out what element you are, there are a few things I can do.” She nearly hopped out of her seat in excitement. They had spent the entire afternoon going over questions that Hermione had. It got the point that Roland was getting frustrated with her not knowing what element she was. He said that he would rather not explain it, just read the book. But Hermione wanted to know as soon as possible. “Can you get me a pen and a large pad of paper?” Hermione got up eagerly and rushed in the kitchen.

From what Roland had told her she had a vague idea of what elements she could possibly be. It was a toss up between Earth, Water, and Air. Each of those had intelligence as playing an important role in the element, no matter how small in Earth's case. And since Hermione was the smartest girl at Hogwarts, those were the only logical choices. Fire was too violent, Light was too calm, and Hermione was certainly neither. There was a slight possibly that she might have been a Shadow element, but Roland had told her that the chances of a Shadow element being born in even a thousand years was somewhere around the actual value of pi raised to the -100, so that quickly took the Shadow element out of the mix.

Hermione came running back in with what Roland had asked for. She took a seat next to him before handing him the paper. Roland stared at her for a moment before drawing something on the paper. “I doubt you would understand what I am going to do,” he said, making Hermione frown. Why would he think that she wouldn't even understand? She was smart, after all. There was a chance that she could get it pretty quickly. “But even if you don't I don't want you rigging this for a certain element.” Roland pointed across to the other chair. “Sit there and we can begin.” Hermione stared at Roland. How dare he, she thought as she got up, that I would even dream of cheating, even on something as trivial as this stupid test. She at least got a small look at the drawing Roland had made. It was a circle with symbol in the center. And on the outside of the circle were six smaller ones. Hermione took a seat across from Roland, and crossed her arms.

“Thank you,” he said, and looked up at Hermione. “Now I'm going to ask you twelve questions dealing with twelve different occasions, maybe more. I don't want you to analyze the questions or think too much.” He smiled at his cousin. “I'm not saying you can't think about it. Just answer what is the first thing that comes to your mind. You can't get it wrong or right. These are just a guideline that is used for finding out what element you are.”

“Fine,” Hermione said, her anger was gone, and now she was anxious to know what element she was. I hope that it's Water. From what Roland had told her, it sound as if it was the coolest element of them all.

“Are you ready?” Roland asked.

“Yes, yes,” Hermione replied, “can we begin?”

“Yes,” Roland said, “and here is your first question: a child is in the middle of the street, wearing dirty clothes and crying from hunger pains. You wish to help the child yet have no food or money on you. You do not know this child nor, does he know you, yet you have this feeling to help him. What do you do?”

“That's it?” Hermione asked. She was rather surprised at the simplicity of the question. Roland nodded. “I'd help him.”

“But how,” Roland replied, “and explain thoroughly.” Hermione sat there for a moment, thinking about it. She would help the child, but how. The first thing that she thought of was to go get him food.

“I would go get him food and bring it back for him.” Her words had a sense of finality to them, and a smile crossed her face.

“Okay,” Roland wrote something down, but Hermione didn't see what. “Next question-”

“Wait, you aren't even going to tell me that I was correct?” Hermione asked. Roland stared oddly at her, and it made her feel uncomfortable. “What?”

“I said that there is no right or wrong answer. What you do is your choice and you have to live with. It is right or wrong by your standards and no one else's.”

Hermione calmed down a bit and Roland's glare lessened. “And what would you do?”

“I would take the child home with me, wash him, clothe him and give him money and drive him to the nearest shelter.” Hermione looked like she was about to object, but Roland held up a hand and stopped her. “I said there was no right or wrong, just morals and what you believe in. Next Question: ever since you have moved into your new apartment…”

And so it went on like that. It seemed like hours that they sat at the table. But Hermione knew better. She had been watching the clock, waiting her best for the answer to her original question: which element she was. Most of what Roland had asked her was based off of either a moral or logical choice. Sometimes he gave her choices if it was a very difficult choice, from either side. Some of the other questions were about her habits, like studying and having fun. It didn't really get too personal, but just enough for her cousin to get a glimpse of her life. Often after the question, Hermione would ask why he chose what he did. It gave her some insight into her cousin's mind.

Finally they had at last come to the last question. Roland sighed, and muttered something. It sounded like he hated asking this question. “Final question, Hermione. This is your last one and I will not help you on this. And unlike the others, you would see the effects of this right away. And unlike the others, I will give you a reply to your answer, just to show how your actions would have affected the outcome.” Roland paused. “I just wished I didn't have to ask this question.”

“Continue,” Hermione said, but her voice was soft. She was touched by Roland's expressions; he was visibly worried about something and felt terrible about the next question.

“Okay,” Roland said stretching. When he finally stopped, he spoke in an ominous voice. “Final Question: you have been captured by an enemy along with your two best friends.” Hermione didn't like were this was going. “One of you has been sentenced to death. But with a sadistic twist.” No, Hermione certainly didn't like this question. It reminded Hermione too much of her friends. She could just see Harry and Ron standing next to her, waiting to die in front of Voldemort. “You have been told to choose, which one of your friend would die. The other and you would get to live.” Hermione gasped. No, it can't be, she thought, that was just what Voldemort would do. “I'm sorry Hermione, but I must ask this: Choose.”

“No,” She said, shaking her head, “I won't. You can't make me.” She wanted to back away, but was unable to move for some odd reason.

“Hermione,” Roland said with the utmost importance. “You must choose or all three of you will die in the slowest, most painful way imaginable. You must choose, for the sake of your friends.”

“No,” she whispered. Roland's words had opened a hole in Hermione's mind that she hoped would never be opened. The lives of her friends rested on her shoulders. “I can't.”

“Choose!” Roland yelled. Hermione nearly fell out of her chair. His voice was so different. It wasn't anything like she had heard before. It was dark and deep; even when Roland yelled at before, it wasn't like this. This was… crueler. “If you wish to finish this, then choose. If not, all three.” She was scared of her cousin; he had never acted like this before. “Choose!”

“Please,” Hermione was visible shaking from the question. Tears were pouring down her cheeks. “Please, don't-” but Roland didn't allow her to finish.

“Then all three are sentenced-”

“No,” Hermione said, her logic had finally kicked in. “it's…it's…”

“Who, Hermione?” Roland asked. “Who is it?” his voice echoed through the house and shook most of the china.

“It's Harry,” she finally said and broke out into large sobs. “It's Harry.” Roland quickly crossed the room before Hermione did fall out of her chair and on to the floor, catching his cousin. He held her close to his chest and rocked back and forth on the rock, soothing her. She had chosen Harry over her boyfriend. Did that mean that she didn't love Ron? The sobs continued and Roland stroked her hair softly, humming lightly. No, of course not, she loved Ron, didn't she? No, she had chosen Harry because...because… Hermione couldn't think straight; the question was just too much. She whimpered softly. For the longest time, Roland held his cousin, trying to calm her down. But she just wanted to be with…Harry. Hermione had no idea way, but she just wanted to in his arms and have him hold her tightly, telling her that she would be okay, that everything would be fine, that they would be safe.

Roland finally said. “Your mortal enemy murdered your other friend in front of your eyes, and banished you out right with chosen friend.” His voice was a whisper, almost nothing, and this brought even more sobs from Hermione. They sat there like that, Roland trying to calm her down.

After what seemed like forever, Roland finally spoke up again. “When I was first asked this question, I didn't handle it as well.” His voice was stranded and tired. “I think I destroyed a room. I was so upset at the mere thought.”

Hermione sniffled. “What-what did you choose?” she didn't know if she wanted to know the answer to this

There was a long silence. “Me.” Hermione pulled away and looked into her cousin's sunglasses. “I don't deserve a life, Hermione. Not after the things I have done.” Silence followed, and Hermione watched as a single tear rolled down his face. “I don't deserve to live,” he whispered so softly that Hermione wasn't even sure if he said anything if she didn't see his mouth move. She knew better then to ask why. It would only upset him further and probably her. Hermione could only think about was Harry, and all the hard choices that he had had to make during the time she had known him. So much depended on Harry, and she finally knew what it meant to make decision like that.

* * * * * *

When Hermione's parents came home they found Hermione on the couch, asleep from the crying and the sobbing. Roland was gone; no note other then what he had written down on his paper. “The Air” was the only legible word that the Grangers could read, for the rest was in a forgotten language unknown to almost all of the word. It was almost a dead language, thanks to the actions of the British and others who were ignorant.

Mrs. Granger walked over to her daughter only to see that she was holding onto a picture of her and her two best friends. She thought that Hermione missed her boyfriend and other friend, but a feeling told her otherwise. She whispered Harry's name, and how he was in danger. As her husband came into the living room, Mrs. Granger stroked her daughter's forehead softly. She just wished that she could help with what her daughter was going through. Over the past few years, Mrs. Granger had noticed a serious change in her daughter. She was constantly worried about one of her friends, Harry Potter. There were nights when Hermione wouldn't stop talking about him. Mrs. Granger really thought that Hermione would ask out that boy from the way she talked about him. But with this Ronald Weasley, all Mrs. Granger heard about was how he was an insufferable prat who didn't even listen to her daughter. That was what surprised her the most. She had heard how Hermione and Ron would get into awful fights and not speak for days, even weeks. Mrs. Granger just hoped that her daughter didn't get hurt with this relation.

Mr. Granger picked up his daughter, and took her upstairs, leaving his wife to her thought. She looked back at the table and the paper that was written in Roland's handwriting. There were a few books spread out on the floor in the living room. She picked them up and read the titles: Elemental Theories and Uses, The Elements Across the Ages, The Affects the Elements had on Life and Religion. The books just went on and on about that. She flipped through one and read on passage and was shocked at of the things in the books. It wasn't graphic or anything like that, but rather it discussed the entire world through these elements and how it was doomed to fall. Certainly odd, she thought. These books also talked about angels and demons.

What is Roland teaching Hermione? If it had anything to do with his job, then she would not allow it. Hermione had too much to deal with already. No, she would not be brought into that world which Roland hides so well. “She most certainly will not,” Mrs. Granger said.

“But what if she is already?” Roland had appeared in the corner, shocking his aunt. “You are as well, and I'm doing my best to keep you out of it. But one of these days you will get into it, and you will never be able to leave.”

“What do you mean?” She took a seat on one of the empty chairs.

“Well, Aunt Mary,” Roland didn't, rather he stayed in the shadows, “have you ever felt something, something that you know was going to happen. And that something come true?” She sat there for a moment, thinking about all the times that she felt horrible during the year, only to learn how Hermione was hurt somehow or something bad had happened. It was like when her sister died, Mrs. Granger just knew.

“Yes,” she replied, “a few times.” Roland moved away from the window, and over behind his aunt. The rustling of his cloak was heard just before he spoke. She turned to face her nephew.

“A belated Seer,” he said with a chuckle. “I'm not surprised. How long has these feelings occurred, say, since the death of my mother?” He's right; it was during that time that she would get these awful headaches, Mrs. Granger thought. But that was just due to stress.

“How, how did you know?” she asked.

Roland moved again, but she didn't know where. The same sound of a rustling cloth echoed in her ears. “Because there is celestial blood running through your veins, Aunt Mary. And as you are now an only child, that blood has been activated. The same blood that runs through Hermione's veins.” Mrs. Granger was shocked, how could this be? They were normal, with nothing wrong about them.

“What about you?” She quickly asked, trying to change the subject. “Aren't you an only child?”

“That blood was destroyed by my…my,” Roland tried to say it, but couldn't. “By him, so no I'm not.”

“Are you positive?” She asked.

“As much as I am about the other boy, yes,” Roland said, he moved again. His cloak or something moved slightly for she heard it again. “I doubt that it means something other then you just having to learn how to control what you have.”

“And what of Hermione?”

“Hogwarts,” Roland replied, “There Dumbledore can help her if she needs it, which I doubt.” Roland moved across the room. Mrs. Granger had given up trying to keep track of him. “But she, they, you will now be in danger. If this gets out then your lives could get lost. And I'm not sure if I can handle a full attack by myself.”

“What do I do?” She asked, but got no reply. Her nephew was gone. That left the choice up to Mrs. Granger. This was one choice that she would need to talk her husband about. “Joe,” she called out softly.

“I heard it all.” He came down the stairs and sat down next to his wife. “Did you even-”

“Know? No, I didn't,” Mrs. Granger said. “Roland just told me the first of it.” That would explain the headache had started was getting a few hours ago.

“So what about your headache?” he asked.

“I don't know.” But I don't want to take that chance. “Joe,” she said, “I think we need to change it.”

He sighed. “If you truly believe that it is for the best, then we will, tomorrow even.” He wrapped an arm about his wife.

“Thank you,” she replied, and relaxed. Both were silent, trying not to think of the worst, and only the best.

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.0.0

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Chapter 5: Ups and Downs:

By; the Dark Aeon

Author's Note: I must apologize for not up dating in so long. My computer crashed a lot and we just got the internet hooked back up. So here you go. Please Read and Review.

Hermione woke up late the next day, exhausted from the mental drilling that Roland did. Some bird was pecking at her window, and that was the only thing that woke her up. Hoping that it was Harry finally replying to her letters, Hermione was disappointed when she saw that it was Pig, Ron's owl. She quickly got out of her bed and opened the window, only to dodge the flying feather-ball that came into the room. Pig flew around the room for a few times, before she finally caught the small animal. She poured Pig some water before sitting down on her bed to read the letter.

Hermione,

I can't stop thinking about you. Your hair is so beautiful and your eyes… I could get lost in them. Your mere presence sends my heart into such a flutter that I can't move without a thought of you and your beauty. I see you and your smile and my minds crashes, and I can't think straight. Your sweet soft kisses simply drive me wild. There isn't a single thing that I don't love about you. Especially that thing you did… it just sends shivers down my spine thinking about it.

I am writing to invite you over to the Burrow until the end of the summer. I miss you so much. Please say yes.

Love with all my heart and soul,

Ron.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at Ron's sweet words. She had never heard anything from anyone before. The tears were just flowing down her face. Hermione really hoped to go, but that would probably mean she would miss Harry's birthday, and the rest of the time that her cousin was going to be here. She wiped the tears off her face, and grabbed her robe before running down the stairs with the letter. Hermione heard her parents talking with Roland about something.

“Look, I'll sign all right,” Roland said. Hermione paused at the bottom of the stairs, trying to catch their conversation. “But I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening, no matter what you may think.” She turned the corner and looked at her cousin leaning over signing the paper.

“That's all we can ask for,” her mom replied. “We just want to know that everything would be taken care of.”

“What's taken care of?” Hermione said, stepping into their business. Her curiosity got the better of her. Roland was dressed already, as were both of her parents. She was wondering what time it was, but didn't get a chance to ask.

Without missing a beat, Roland said, “Stock portfolio, Herms.” She placed her hips at his little nickname for her. “They just wanted to make sure that everything was in order. I was just signing some final paperwork for them, as I helped arrange them for your parents. That's all.” Roland was quick in picking up the documents before Hermione even got a chance to read them. “Here you go.” He handed them to her mother, who took it with care.

“Thank you, Roland,” her mom said, and sent him a sympathetic look.

“I will stop it alright,” he replied, before nearly jumping over to the stairs. Roland paused next to Hermione, as she quickly tried to hide the letter that Ron sent. “Oh, what is this?” he grabbed the letter and began to read it.

“Give it back Roland,” Hermione tried to grab it, but her cousin held it up in the air.

“A love letter, I see.” He held it up at the light. “`I can't stop thinking about you. Your hair is so beautiful and your eyes… I could get lost in them.” His voice was high and sing-song like. “Your mere presence sends my heart into such a flutter that I can't move without a thought of you and your beauty.'” Roland paused, and dropped his jaw. “`Especially that thing you did… it just sends shivers down my spine thinking about it.' And what is this thing that you did?” Hermione glared at her cousin, remembering why she hated him at times. He could be such a prat when he wanted. All the color went from her face when Roland said those words. Hermione knew that her parents would over react.

“Hermione Anne Granger,” her mom said. “We need to have a talk now.”

“It wasn't anything,” Hermione replied, her face turning bright red. “I just gave him a back rub.” Now her father was glaring at her, too. “Really, we didn't do anything more then kiss once or twice, and I gave him a back rub.” Her mom looked over at Roland who just nodded. Why weren't they trusting her? She was the top student at her school and had lived at a border school with boys for five years now. Hermione could handle things on her own.

“I would like to meet this boy,” her dad said.

”But why, I told you already, he's sweet, lovely, kindly-” Hermione started to say.

“And that's your word on it, Herms,” Roland said, and she glared at him. He stuck out his tongue at her. Roland can be such a prat at times, Hermione thought. He was already looking at the letter again. “Says here that he wants her to stay at the Burrow, whatever that is, for the rest of the summer.”

“I don't like the sound of that,” her mom said, “Besides your cousin is only staying here for another week or so.”

“But mum,” Hermione pleaded, “I really want to go. I'm sure Roland won't mind.” She glared at him, and he just shrugged. “He can find ways to keep himself occupied.”

“I would like to meet this Ron fellow,” Roland said, still looking at the letter. He rubbed his hand over the reading, but stopped when Hermione was staring him down.

“As would I,” her dad continued. He paused for a moment, thinking. “Since we have never actually met either of your friends, how about you invite them to stay for a week, both of them.” Hermione could have jumped with joy. Both her boyfriend and Harry could come to her house and actually spend a week with her family.

“Can we have Harry's birthday party here too?” Hermione really wanted to throw Harry a really nice party, one that he would never forget. “He's never had one before.”

Her father raised an eyebrow at that but nodded his head. “This is, of course, with Roland's permission.” Hermione looked with puppy-dog eyes at her cousin, nearly getting down on her knees.

“I have no problem with.” Roland handed the letter back to Hermione “They can have the guest in room. I'll be fine on the couch down here.”

“Thank you, Mum, Dad,” She gave them each big hugs. Hermione stared at Roland before sticking her tongue out at him and running up stairs to reply to Ron, then send a letter to Harry. She could hear her cousin laughing as she left.

“What's wrong?” Mary asked, looking at her nephew. Roland was leaning against the wall, puzzled by something. Her husband had left to get some groceries that they would need for the week.

“That letter wasn't written by whom she thinks,” he said, and waved a hand in front of him. A duplicate of the letter appeared in his other hand. “There was magic used on it, almost to hide who actually wrote it.”

“You don't trust her boyfriend,” she asked. He shook his head. “I thought it was just a mother's instinct.”

“For you it probably it,” Roland replied, “For me…” he shrugged. “I'm just paranoid. That's all.” He stood up straight. “It comes with the territory.” The letter disappeared as he released it. He paused again, and looked at his aunt. “Are you sure about your decision with me becoming Hermione's guardian if…” Roland trailed off, as if he didn't want to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Mary said, “you can protect and will, and you can teach her if need be. Besides you're family.” She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You are a good kid, a bit mixed up, but a good kid.”

“I'm twenty,” he said, “I doubt that I count as a kid.”

“Aw,” Mary said, squeezing his cheek, “isn't the kid cute?”

“Keep this up and I'll be gone for the day,” Roland threatened. He backed off. “And Hermione will probably want me to explain what her element is and why she was chosen that way.” He shrugged his shoulders and took off upstairs, taking them two at a time. Mary shook her head. She only hoped that she was making the right decision with her daughter.

* * * * * *

Hermione quickly wrote a short note to Ron, explaining to him that her parents were inviting him and Harry over for next week or so. Her letter to Harry was much longer, explaining to him that she was sorry that Ron didn't tell him about them going out, and she talked about her cousin and something of the things that had happened since he had arrived. Hermione left out the little part about the man who threatened her; knowing Harry as well as she did, he would only get upset. No, it was better for him not to know about her cousin. The radio was blaring as she wrote. “Another brutal attack by the Brotherhood of Mutants in America. Luckily no humans were hurt in his attack, but reports indicate that on of the mutants who were the cause of the attack was hurt, but no word whether or not it is dead.”

“It better be,” Hermione said as she searched her room for string to tie up the letters. The news continued.

“We are informed that the so called group of super heroes, the X-men, were also at this attack. Authorities are unsure whether or not these mutants were helping in the destruction or stopping it.” Hermione turned off the radio; she didn't want to hear anymore about the mutants. It was a depressing matter; the mutants attacking perfectly normal people who didn't do anything wrong. When she turned to get Pig on the perch that she had bought for both Harry's and Ron's owl, Hermione saw Roland shaking his head.

“I hope everyone is alright,” Roland said.

“Me too,” Hermione added, and walked over to Pig.

“I wonder how Logan handled the situation,” Roland said before turning around.

“Logan who?” she asked

“He's with the X-men,” Roland replied, “They've had trouble ever since they lost one of their members.”

“How do you know this?” She seemed shocked that Roland would associate with these freaks.

“It was on the news in America for a while.” Roland shrugged. “I would shoot pool with Logan during the summer. Why are you so curious? Why does it matter?”

Hermione's face turned red from anger. “I'm surprised that you would be friends with those… those…”

“I believe people is the word you are looking for,” Roland's anger was beginning to show, but Hermione doubted he had anything on her.

“The word I was looking for was monsters.” She was glaring at her cousin, appalled at his behavior. How could he do that? Those creatures deserved to be monitored and locked away fro the rest of their lives. “They don't deserve the lives that we give them.”

“The lives we give them?” Roland repeated in disgust. “Do you have how simple it is for you to be mistaken as a mutant?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, backing off.

“Why should I tell such a close minded person any thing?” Roland replied. “You should figure it out if you're so smart.” He stormed away. Just before he left, Hermione swore that she could have felt his anger and seen it. Roland almost glowed a blood red color, but she thought that she was mistaken. Yes, she was certainly was. It would take a huge amount of power for it to be visible like that and Roland wasn't that powerful. Dumbledore wasn't even that powerful.

Hermione shrugged, she didn't really care what Roland said. She would figure it out in time, but that wasn't important right now. Her cousin was just being stubborn and pig-headed; refusing to see that truth, that's all. No, now was the time to send off Harry and Ron's letters. She walked over to Pig, but the little owl flew up, ready to play a game. “Not now, Pig,” Hermione said, but the owl didn't listen. Instead it flew around the room, dodging Hermione's attempts to catch him. She heard the shower start and sighed. Hermione was hoping to get in before Roland, he took longer showers then she did. That would mean there would be no hot water for her. She almost growled in frustration. He was just doing that to get her angry. Well, he won't get the best of me. She was determined to be the bigger person and not let Roland's childish acts get to her.

Hermione finally caught Pig and tied the letters on to its legs. “Take this one to Harry first, all right.” Pig nodded yes and then flew out of the window. Hopefully that dumb bird will listen to me. Hermione looked over at her desk and saw the paper that Roland was writing on the day before. She didn't recognize any of the symbols, but saw, in plain English, the Air written in the center. Makes sense, she thought. She was after extremely smart and knew a lot—that alone gave her enough warrant to be an Air element. Then why did Roland need to go through the entire test, especially the last question?

She shivered at that thought. Hermione still had no idea as to why she chose Harry over Ron and she doubted she ever would. Harry was a strong wizard, but Ron could be, too. What made it so bad was the fact that she had to make the choice, where their lives were almost in the palm of her hands. Roland seemed pretty distraught by his answer, but his comment afterwards worried her. “I don't deserve to live.” That reminded her of Harry, almost, but with Roland it seemed that he truly thought that he was unworthy of life. Harry at least knew that he was needed, but Roland didn't even have a point to live anymore in his opinion. That is what depression is, Hermione thought, the total lack of self worth and the wanting to kill one's self. She knew that Harry was depressed to a degree, but from her cousin's manner, maybe he was, too. Maybe he was more forgone then Harry. At times, he was so down and disheartened that it affected her, but others, he was the happiest person in the world. I wonder if he is bipolar too.

Hermione decided that she needed to talk with her mother; she might be able to help. Mrs. Granger seemed to talk with him just about every day, so she had to know something. The shower was still going, so Hermione thought that it was best if she went down and talked to her then. She tightened her robe around her waist and walked out of her room and down the stairs. Her mother was sitting at the table, looking at their old photo albums. “Roland gave me all of her mother's old pictures, including the ones of the family reunion,” her mother said. Hermione watched as a tear rolled down she cheeks. “So much has happened.” She looked up at her daughter. “Come sit down, I want to tell you something.” Hermione went over to her mother.

“Remember nine years ago when we first got news of your aunt's death?” Hermione nodded and tried to hold back the tears. It was hard for her think about her. Aunt Jane was one of her favorites, even thought Hermione barely know her. She had treated her so nicely the few days that Hermione saw her. Aunt Jane reminded her of Roland at times. “Well, obviously, Roland survived, but not without some injuries.”

“Like what, Mum?” Hermione asked.

“He died at the hospital when they finished operating on him.” Her mother paused. Hermione was shocked; she never even heard this story before. She just waited for her mother to continue. “Roland laid on the table, legally dead for ten minutes before he came back.” Hermione gasped. “With that much time, the brain takes serious damage. He has a long list of mental problems, including bipolar and depression. But I think you figured this all out.” Hermione nodded yes again. She was shocked at that. It explained why at times he acted like a child. “There's more, but I'm not sure if I can talk about it.” The tears came back. “I just miss my sister so much.” Hermione sat there and watched as her mother cried, doubting that she could do anything to help. She wanted to, but had no idea of what to do.

Hermione didn't even hear Roland come downstairs. “And she misses you, too, Aunt Mary,” Roland said. Hermione jumped when he spoke. “But you must remember, that times moves on, people move on. You can't hid in the past or the future will fail miserable. Mom would want you to be happy like you were, not sad and down.” He paused and took a death. “You mustn't think of death as an end, but rather a beginning. Mom went to a better place, a place where she is with Dad and she is happy and loved.”

“Sounds cliché,” Hermione said sarcastically.

“So what if it is?” Roland replied. He was calm again. “Isn't that what you want when you die, to be happy? Heaven is comfort and helps you find peace before you move on.” Hermione was about to ask what he meant by that, but held back. It was probably in those books of his that he gave her. “Life is precious and so is death, Hermione. You can't view on being sad, for they are a beautiful thing. The manner which a person dies in can be sad, but the passing is wonderful. That is why most wizards and witches call a funeral a Celebration, for you are there to celebrate the life and happiness of their lives.”

“I never knew that,” Hermione said, disappointed that she didn't know something.

“When you deal with death often, Herms, you learn all that you can about the ceremonies.” He was back to his old self. “But on the other hand, you must also know of life.” He motioned for her to go upstairs. “Take your shower, Herms, so we can discuss your element and possibly training.” She jumped up from the table in excitement.

Before Hermione left, she gave her mother a hug, and whispered an “I love you.” She rushed up stairs to her room, grabbing her cloths and then to the bathroom. Hermione was really looking forward to this day. Things were finally looking up.

* * * * * *

Things couldn't be looking any worse for Harry. With the recent attack on humans by mutants, Uncle Vernon was on the war path. Harry made it a point to stay out of his way during the day and locked himself in his room. He had been working on the transfiguration essay for the past hours, just writing whatever he could think of before Pig came to his window. He hoped that it was a letter from Ron, finally asking him to come for the summer. It had become tradition, sort of, for Harry to live the burrow around his birthday to go to the Burrow. But this year, Ron wasn't talking with him despite the number of letters Harry had sent.

The letter had come from Hermione. Harry recognized the handwriting the moment he saw it, so elegant and pretty. He had missed her so much that he nearly tore apart the letter trying to open it.

Dear Harry,

I first off want to thank you for calling me that one day, and would like to let you know that you can call me whenever you want; whether about something important or nothing at all. I miss hearing your voice. You really kept me going last year, it was so hard but with your encouragement I know I did well.

Secondly, I want to tell you that I am fine and fully healed. So no more worrying about me, okay. You just take care of yourself. (Harry laughed, that was so like Hermione, always caring about him.) But your concern did touch me and thank you very much, Harry. It meant a lot to me just to know that you care. I don't how much I can thank you, but I do know that I will continue to. You've been so kind to me, and stayed my friend even when I was the one spoiling your fun. Well again, thank you Harry for being my friend. Thank you for being you.

Now for the real reason about me writing; I want to invite you over to my house for about a week. I know that it is close to your birthday, but that is something I want to do to, throw you a birthday party. It would only be you, me, Ron, Roland and my parents, but that is enough people. I think that it would be a wonderful experience for you, Harry. I know how horrible the Dursleys have and probably are treating you, and I really want this. Please say yes. I want to see you again. I miss you.

Love always,

Hermione Granger

The shock wore off Harry as he reread the letter. Hermione had missed him, actually missed him. He didn't think that she would care, what with her and Ron. They seemed so perfect for each other, Harry thought. Why would they want to spend time with a person like me? He wasn't much, just someone who was going to be used to destroy the dark lord, and then kicked aside like a mutt on the street. But Ron, Ron would have a life after Hogwarts, Hermione had future with him. Harry was just to die anyways while he killed Voldemort. That was what he decided, as not to be a burden to anyone after the final battle. It was just easier that way.

This was part of the reason why Harry planned to distance himself away from his friends this year and his last at Hogwarts. It would be easier to deal with loss when they weren't too close to him. Harry didn't want to see any of his friends hurt anymore, especially when it was his fault. Loss is always easier to handle without them being close. The closer a person was, the harder the loss. Sirius and Cedric were a prime example; Cedric was a friend but Harry didn't know him that well. Sirius was like the father that Harry never had, and he loved him. Sirius's death was hard for Harry and still was. It was something that would take time and he wasn't sure if he could handle it.

If Ron or Hermione, especially Hermione, were killed because of him, Harry wasn't sure of his actions. When he saw his friends fall that night at the Ministry, he anger soared as high as an eagle flies. If Hermione died… a tear fell down his cheek. He didn't want to think about that, it was too hard on him. That was the reason why he had to leave, to keep her safe. His friends would understand. Their safety takes precedent over his life. His life meant nothing to the world. All he was had done meant nothing to them. He was just a superstar who they could blame anything that went wrong on. The moment he was gone it will all be better.

That brought Harry back to the letter. As much as he didn't want to be around them anymore, he did. He wanted to see her smile, hear her laugh, and be just in her presence. Hermione did always lighten his heavy load with but a smile and she could clear his darkest day with but a word. She was a great friend. Harry sighed again. When would I ever find love? He doubted that he ever would, and he would have to live with that. But at least he could see her one last time before pushing himself away. Harry looked up to notice that Pig was already gone. He had seen another letter on him, and figured that it was for Ron. He sighed again. Well, I better send back a reply. Harry just wished he knew what he was going to say

“Just say yes,” a man's voice echoed the room. Immediately Harry had his wand up. “Oh, for the gods' sake, put that down, boy.” A bright flash of white light appeared. Harry was standing on his bed, wand pointed at the white light. “I have no reason to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” Harry asked, he didn't lower the wand. The man wore a long white robe, flowing onto the flow. Harry could have sworn the man was albino, for he had almost red eyes and pale white hair.

“You can call me Eonos,” the man said, “and I've been sent here by your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” He removed a bag from his book. “He wanted me to give you this.” Tossing it onto the bed didn't get Harry to move. He was too cautious for that. Instead he just stood there, watching the man. “Really, that won't have any affect on me, especially here.” He paused and smirked, showing his teeth. Harry backed up a bit the best he could. Eonos had sharpened teeth, almost like for tearing meat off of a bone. “Especially without her.”

“Who are you talking about?” Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He lowered his wand and stared at the man.

“Read the books in the bag,” Eonos said as he turned around. “You just might get a glance of what I mean.” In the same flash that he arrived in, Eonos was gone. Harry had no idea why he was here, or even how he found him, but he knew that there was something strange about this Eonos character. Harry just knew it. He felt it within his body. It was as if the man was pure evil or something. Harry shrugged and stepped down off his bed. There was nothing he could do, but he was careful as he walked over to the bag.

As much as his curiosity told him to open it, Harry refused. He had other business to do, which was to write a reply to Hermione's letter. He pulled out a sheet from his trunk and sat down at his desk, and quickly scribbled a reply; one without any thoughts on how he felt or any response to anything in her letter, but a reply nonetheless. Harry hoped that Hermione would accept his letter without any questions. He just knew that when he goes over, she would interrogate him. And that was the last thing that Harry wanted. But what else could he do, Hermione wanted him to come, other wise she won't have sent the letter.

Harry looked at the letter on finally time before signally for Hedwig to come over to him. He just wanted to be alone at the moment and try not to think about the word “love.” He sent his owl out to Hermione and sat down on his bed. A small tear rolled down his face as his owl flew out of the window. Will I ever find love?

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Chapter 6: Pause in thoughts

Author's Note: this chapter has taken a long time for me to write. I recently acquired some new source material and incorporating some new ideas.

Also this is not a story about Roland, but rather he is the guide for Harry and Hermione. Just wait and see. I would like to thank my betas. And please R and R.

Notes to Reviewers:

Izzieq: no she isn't meant to be that annoying, but still… Just wait.

Godsowndevil: only five, I have seven as of now, and at least now more to come. And believe every stinking detail about Harry that is come will show his true element.

Goldgrin: Something like that. But Roland doesn't know everything there is to about the elements.

Davaca: Pride above all else sometimes leads to the greatest falls.

And as a final thought, like Fitzgerald, all details do matter. Enjoy.

* * * * * *

Harry hadn't slept well that night after he got his letter from Hermione. Too much was on his mind and he couldn't focus that well. The dreams were horrible, but Harry couldn't remember exactly why. There was just something about them that haunted his mind. Sirius and Hermione were the only two things that he could remember. And fire; Harry remembered fire. That had the biggest impact on Harry besides Hermione, but she was in the fire.

The doorbell rang and Harry sat up. He wondered who was at the door that early in the morning. The sun hadn't even broken through the window and lit Harry's room yet. He rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses, only to hear his uncle scream, “What the bloody hell-” but that was it. His uncle didn't say another word.

Getting up quickly, Harry got dressed and opened his door to look down the hallway, hoping to see what was happening. He heard a sound that he thought was something struggling, but it quickly passed and was replaced by heavy breathing. Someone walked up the stairs and Harry saw that it was Roland, holding a duffel bag. “Ready to leave,” he was calm and collect. Whatever happened downstairs didn't affect him.

“No,” Harry replied, “I didn't think that I was leaving this soon.” He turned around and walked into his room, presuming that Roland was following. Without much thought, Harry pulled out what ever clothes he had gotten from Roland and turned back around to see that he was alone. Roland had disappeared. He looked back to his bed, only to see Roland, packing his things into the duffel bag. “You know, I could do that myself.”

“Not as quickly,” Roland said. He had finished packing and looked up at Harry. “Where's the rest of your stuff?” Harry pointed and the closet and Roland disappeared in a black shadow. He stood there shocked for a moment, before looking at his closet. The man had already pulled out Harry's trunk and was chaining it to his back. “Grab your bag and let's go.” Roland was walking toward the door with the trunk on his back. There seemed to be little change in his body movements, other then he was a little hunched over now. Roland was walking just as calmly as he was before. Harry hadn't moved. “Come on, Harry. We don't have much time.” Harry grabbed his bag and followed Roland out the door.

As they walked downstairs not a word was spoken by anyone. Harry was just surprised at how efficient Roland was. He came in the Dursleys' home with a plan and was finished quickly. He paused at the bottom of the stairs wondering where the rest of his family was. “Roland, where are-”

“Your family,” Roland's sarcasm was dripping from his words. “Around, I don't know really. I scared them pretty good.” He chuckled as he opened the door. “We don't have much time, Harry. The Portkey is waiting.” Portkey, Harry wondered. How did he get a Portkey? Roland was already out the door, before Harry had a chance to ask the question that he had left on the Boy-who-Lived's mind.

“Roland.” Harry ran after the man. “Roland, wait up.” Outside, Roland was standing straight up and looking at the sky. Clouds were forming over head; large gray ones. “A storm?” The sky had been clear a few minutes ago.

“More than that.” Roland turned around, facing Harry. He had removed his sunglasses, showing the hollowness that hung in his eyes. “A passageway.” He looked back up at the sky. “Come, Harry, there isn't much time.” He motioned for Harry to stand next to him. “The Portkey will take action soon.” Roland grabbed Harry's shoulder. “Ready?” Harry barely nodded before he felt like his stomach was pulled out from beneath him. When they finally landed, Harry fell to the ground. He groaned as he tried to move, his body was sore.

“What the bloody hell?” Harry said, try to get up. His body was shaking, but apparently, the fall didn't affect him as badly as Roland. He had yet to move. The trip's affects had finally finished and Harry felt normal. He looked around, trying to get a sense of where he was. There were houses down each side of the street, and some cars were parked outside of them. Apparently, no one was noticing the fact that two people had just arrived on the grass.

They had landed in a yard of probably the simplest house that Harry had seen. And that in itself was beautiful. Harry found it oddly welcoming and warm. It was almost like… a home to him. The front door was thrown open and in a moment, Harry found a bushy head of brown hair on his chest. Now he knew were he was. “Hi,” was all he could say and still keep back the tears. Hermione held onto him tightly, and was softly crying. Harry rested his head on the top of hers and just held her. “Its okay, I'm here now.” He had been so worried about her, and not hearing much from her… Wait, Harry did hear from Hermione, he just refused to read or reply to it. He had been an awful friend, only thinking of his grief and his pain. “I'm so sorry,” he said, with his words holding back his tears.

“Its okay, Harry,” she replied, but didn't stop sobbing. “You had your own problems to deal with. I'm just glad that Roland was able to get you.”

“Roland.” Harry released Hermione and smiled. She had stopped crying and was wiping her eyes. He turned to the trunk that was on the ground. But Roland was no longer beneath it.

“Oh,” Hermione said, “don't worry about him. He's been running about trying to get everything ready for this week.”

“Why?” Harry couldn't help but ask. “What's so special about?” he placed and arm on Hermione's shoulder, and she smiled. They started to walk towards the door almost immediately, as if it was an instinct.

“Well, you are,” Hermione wrapped an arm around his waist. Harry had a surprised look on his face. “For one, we don't have the charm that protects you anymore.” Harry stopped. He had forgotten about that charm. What was Roland going to do? Hermione moved away from Harry and held her arms close. She didn't look at Harry. “Oh, but don't worry, Roland has it covered.” Her voice held a bit of disappointment. Hermione was the one who usually had to do things for Harry, never someone else. “That's why you came the way you did. Roland said it was the only way for you to pass through the shields without going a roundabout way.” Hermione turned back to face Harry, a sad look was pasted on her face. “Harry?”

“Yeah?” Harry replied.

“How do you feel about me and Ron?” She was truly worried about his reaction. But the truth was Harry wasn't really sure. He knew he was suppose to be happy for them, but something inside of him told him that it would never work. They were just too different. Harry turned away, trying to think about it. He really felt uncomfortable at the moment, shifting in his shoes and refusing to make eye contact. “Harry?”

“I guess,” he finally said. “If you're happy, I'm happy.” He shrugged his shoulders, and was crushed by Hermione's arms. Why was she hugging him, he did nothing special? All he did was say what he thought. If she was happy, Harry would be alright. That was all that truly mattered.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Hermione's voice cracked and she sniffled. She was crying over this. What's with this girl? She's bloody mad. Harry finally decided, but didn't quite let go just yet.

“Listen you two,” a woman's voice yelled from inside the house. “If you're just going to stand there, at least bring in Ron's chest.” Neither of them pulled apart yet.

“Mum,” Hermione quickly replied. “This isn't Ron.”

“Well, the way you two are holding onto each other, I would have thought so.” Harry quickly released Hermione, and she pushed herself away from him. Both had bright red faces and they didn't think that it was funny. But apparently, Mrs. Granger did, because she was laughing as she came out. She was wiping her hands on her apron. “Then you must be Harry Potter, it's so nice to meet you finally. Little Hermione couldn't stop talking about you.”

“Actually,” Roland came back outside. He was walking over to Harry's chest. “Every tenth word was about Ron. So it was close.”

“Mum,” Hermione whined. “Make him stop.” But all that Mrs. Granger did was smile. She looked between Roland and her daughter.

Roland paused just next to the chest, and smiled. “Isn't she cute when she's angry?” Harry couldn't help but laugh, though he stopped the moment he saw Hermione's glare on him. Roland's smile disappeared as he looked down at the chest. “Hermione still thinks that she can take me in a wizards duel, though. One of these days I'll have to prove her wrong.” Hermione snorted at her cousin. “I've yet to decide if I was going to give her a hard time all week or not.” He looked over at Harry, and smiled again.

“You'd better not, Roland Demoas,” Hermione shouted at her cousin. “Or I'll-”

“Or you'll what, Herms?” Roland asked. Herms, Hermione hates her name being shorted. Harry stared at the cousins arguing. “I have your wand already and I've bonded you for wandless magic.” He looked up at Harry. “Which reminds me, Harry, I need your wand.”

That was unexpected, even hearing what Roland said to Hermione. “Wait, why?” Harry replied.

Hermione sighed. “It's the only way Dumbledore will allow you to come here. He and another sorcerer casted a spell on our house in order to continue to protect you.” Hermione glared at her cousin. “But it only works if no magic is used during the duration of the spell. That means-”

“No wands,” Harry finished. He didn't like the idea of that, but if it got him to stay with Hermione, then it would have to be done. “Fine, but I'm not happy about it.” Roland held a hand out for Harry. “What now?” The man nodded. “Fine then.” Harry dug into his pocket and pulled out his wand. He held it out for Roland to take it, refusing to move. But Roland didn't have to move either. The wand flew from Harry's hand to the man's. The Boy-Who-Lived stared at his hand for a moment before looking at Roland, who was already pocketing the wand and picking up the chest. No one spoke as Roland walked with the chest inside the house.

“Come,” Mrs. Granger said, “Hermione can explain it to you better inside.” She walked back inside, leaving the two teenagers alone. For a moment, neither of them talked. Finally Harry said something. “When's Ron coming?”

“Tomorrow,” Hermione replied. “Roland has to do some final adjustments before he comes. Didn't tell me why though. Never does.” Her voice trailed off at the end, but Harry caught it all. She looked back up at her mother. “I wonder why she thought you were Ron.” Her voice was low, and Harry barely heard her.

“You okay?” Harry asked. Hermione looked up at him, and smiled. That smile proved that everything was all right, and Harry knew it. Her eyes told him the whole story.

“Yeah, I am,” Hermione said, and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him inside with her. She immediately began to talk about the weeks that she hasn't seen Harry, telling him almost everything. And he smiled, knowing that everything would be all right.

* * * * * *

“Apparently the spell is working,” a man with graying hair said to Albus. He was staring at a glowing orb on Albus' desk. The man wore a blue cloak with a red and white shirt. He looked almost regal. His hands were inches from the orb and were moving around in odd motions as if they were searching for something. A picture shined within the glass ball.

“It should,” Albus replied. A smile was on his face as he looked up from his desk. “After all, Stephen, you are the creator of the spell.”

“I'm still worried about it,” Stephen looked up from his Orb of Seeing at the Headmaster. “Roland is too unpredictable.”

“Once again, Stephen-” Stephen had returned to looking at the outside world from his Orb. What was Roland doing? His chaotic nature made it hard for the Sorcerer or Headmaster to figure out what was going on in his mind.

“I know Albus, he's my protégée, but that doesn't make me any less worried.” Stephen looked up again. “His away from his Balance and Source, along with his Order, so that makes him even more chaotic.”

“I take it that they are one and the same?” Albus asked. Stephen nodded. “Then he should be fine once he sees him again.”

“It's a her, Albus,” Stephen said, “and she is the most important being in the boy's life. Even if he doesn't know it.” Albus nodded and thought some more about this Roland. He was a wild card, more so the Harry was.

Albus stood up and came from behind his desk to look at the Orb. “And the other two?”

“They shall fulfill the prophecy of the Elements.” Stephen shifted the picture to Harry. “But your prophecy is still confusing to me. I've yet to fully decipher it, and I doubt it can be.”

“It is as I thought,” Albus shrunk back and leaned against the wall, showing his old age.

“Did you really think that it would be that simple?” Stephen turned back from the Orb of Seeing and stared at his newfound friend. When he was summoned by Eonos to come and help at Hogwarts, Stephen Strange knew what he was getting into to, just not how deep. His training with Roland had taught him a thing or two about the Wizarding world, but Stephen didn't know of Voldemort. But the Immortal Sorcerer doubted that there was much he could do. From what Albus had filled Stephen in on, Voldemort was collecting more and more power by the moment. “Even Roland's power can't beat your Dark Lord.”

“I still can't believe that you won't accept the fact that Tom Riddle is a threat to us all. In sense, he's your dark lord.”

“I accept that he is a threat to all of us, but as a Patriarch of the Hunters, I have much more to worry about. Demons are becoming more and more troublesome since Roland became a Hunter, and I'm having trouble keeping up with them.” Stephen paused for a moment. “Pray that the Dark Lord who plagues the Hunters of this world never combines with your Dark Lord.” He went back to searching the world, trying to find the special few that would be needed in due time. They would be needed soon and that was the reason for Roland to be in the real world.

* * * * * *

After a lengthy lunch prepared by Mrs. Granger and Roland, Harry and Hermione watched movies in the living room. Hermione suggested it, seeing as Harry had never even seen one before today, but she really wasn't watching the television. He was sitting on the couch, staring so intently at the scene, fascinated by what was going on. Hermione sat on a chair next to him, reading one of the few books that Roland hadn't taken from her. Her legs were pulled close up her body, with just enough space for her book and room to turn the pages. Roland had taken both of their trunks and locked them away in the basement. And having their wands, they couldn't do much about it. At least Harry had his clothes that he had bought with Roland.

Hermione looked over the top of her book for the umpteenth time and sighed at the clueless look on Harry's face. Unlike Ron, Harry had at least an idea of the Muggle world, but some things were still a mystery to him. He didn't really understand the tellie or what was on it. Harry knew what it did, but nothing more then what he watched Dudley do with it. Another sigh escaped her lips as Harry changed the channel again, he can't focus could he? But that anxiety didn't stop the smile that formed on her face.

Roland had come back inside finally. Hermione looked up from her book and Harry from the tellie, to see that he was exhausted. “Well, I'm done for the day.” Roland limped over to the stairs and sat down heavily.

“So is there anything else you aren't telling us?” Hermione said, not moving from her chair.

“Probably,” Roland replied, “But there is no way in the Seven Hells that I'm telling you.” He smiled, as did Harry. But the Boy-Who-Lived stopped when Hermione glared at him. “See, if you can block it out, Harry, it has no effect on you.” Roland dodged the pillow that came flying at him from Hermione. “But then that what you have to worry about?” The man was gone as another pillow was thrown at him and Hermione grunted in frustration.

“He's almost as bad as Ron,” she said, and stretched out her legs. “I swear, sometimes…”

“Sometimes what, Hermione?” Harry asked.

“He's just a little child.” She finally finished, but she blushed a bright red by her comment. She had forgotten that in some sense, Roland was just a child. Her mum had explained a bit further while Roland was working on the house. The damage that was caused to his brain did leave some permanent effects, including the lack of shame and something else. He had forgotten a lot of things, including how to read, which really scared Hermione. The ability to read was a hard earned skill, one that didn't go away easily. If it could happen to Roland, then it could happen to her. That made her even more upset about what she said about Roland.

“And is that a bad thing?” Harry replied. “He's just having fun.” Harry seemed to understand it without knowing all the facts. Funny, how he could say the right thing to make her feel better. “Besides, you get really cute when you're angry.” Hermione's face turned bright red, whether from anger or embarrassment, but she didn't get a chance to say something to Harry for he was already gone. God, men made her so angry at times. But she doubted that she would want to live without them. Hermione didn't move from her chair when she heard the piano playing upstairs. Roland was upset about something, Hermione knew that much, but also knew better then to ask what it was.

* * * * * *

Harry found Roland in the guest room, only now there was a piano where the beds were. He had packed away all his clothes in the closet, leaving room for Ron. Roland had transfigured the queen size bed into two twin beds, giving one for Harry and Ron when he came. He had watched Roland play a bit, his hands gliding over the keys and creating a dark mystic melody. “You play?” Harry asked as he stood in the doorway. Roland had his back to Harry when he finally spoke.

The music didn't stop. “I had to learn how to work my fingers again after the crash. Griping a pen or pencil took a while, but this was almost second nature I found. The therapist thought that I just had natural talent, but I doubt that it was that. I had to practice a long time to be able to play like this.” There was a short pause before another unnamed piece echoed the room. “I've played for about eight years now, since their death.”

“Whose?” Harry asked.

“My parents were killed in the same crash that crippled me and left me brain-dead,” Roland spoke with no feeling, as if he didn't care about it.

“So sound as if you aren't upset about it?” Harry couldn't help but say.

“You can't change the past, Harry,” Roland said, “even when the events are horrible, they have happened for a reason.” He continued to play, and swayed with the music.

“So you're saying that the death of Sirius and my parents were planned?” Harry snapped without thinking.

“No,” the music paused, “I mean that they died because you needed to grow up fast, what better way then making a child an orphan. At ten, I had the mind of a thirty year old in responsibility, Harry. Hell, even if you didn't have much of a childhood, I can't even remember mine. So who's to say that I did?” The music started again, this time with anger. The pace was rapid and Roland's fingers were flying over the keys. “They say that it's better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all. But what's the point of loving if you can't remember it? If anything, it makes the hurt worse. Believe me Harry, you were one of the few lucky orphans.” Roland stormed out of the room, but the music didn't stop. Instead, it slowly died down into nothingness.

How dare he say I'm lucky? Harry thought. He was pissed off at the man for saying that his life was harder then living with the Dursley's. They put him through a living hell. Barely eating, working hard, with no love. Roland at least knew life. But what's the point of loving if you can't remember it? Roland's words echoed in Harry's mind. Harry knew that was true. At least Harry knew that his parents loved him, he felt it inside. Same with Sirius. But what Roland said also left a larger impression. He had no memory prior to his accident. How bad was that accident? Harry couldn't help but think. He turned and watched Roland go down the stairs and out the door.

Some more footsteps came up the stairs, and Harry saw that it was Hermione. “What was that about?” she asked.

“To tell you the truth,” Harry said, “I don't know.” He looked back down the stairs. “I was talking with him for a moment before he stormed off.”

“I take it was his past?” Hermione replied.

“Sort of. We were talking about his family.” Hermione looked shocked. “What?”

“You got him to talk about Aunt Kris and Uncle Rhys?” Harry nodded. “What did he say?”

“He was playing the piano when he started to talk about how he learned to play. He then continued to say that they died in the same crash that crippled him and left him brain-dead.” Hermione didn't seem worried about this. “Then he had to go and say that everything happens for a reason.” There was a long pause in the conversation.

“The reason isn't always there at the time of the event,” Hermione said meekly. She was staring at her feet, refusing to look at Harry. “But a reason is there, nonetheless.” Harry glared at Hermione, and when she finally looked up at him, she said, “It's something that Granger women drive into the heads of their children for whatever reason.” She smiled weakly. “For me, it was when I first saw Roland, about six months before the accident. He's the one who got me really into reading. Gave me about twenty books that Christmas.” She gave a short laugh.

“Before that Christmas, we went to a family reunion in Florida. My other cousins weren't very nice to me, making fun of me because of my teeth and my bushy hair.” Hermione wiped a tear from her eyes. Harry crossed the room, and locked his arms around her. “Roland was the only person besides the adults who was nice to me. He took me on walks down at the beach, gave me piggyback rides, and was the first real friend that I had. When we came back for Christmas, I was a bit upset that I couldn't see him again. But Christmas morning, I saw a huge stack of presents, all more me. My parents were shocked to see it.” She laughed, but that didn't stop the tears. “I was going to visit him during the summer, but the crash happened.” Hermione began to sob, but didn't stop her story. “When I heard what happen, I was so devastated. He was my best friend my only friend. I was so scared; from the news that we got, he was legally dead for over ten minutes.” The tears didn't stop, and Harry just rubbed her back. “It was that day that I hide myself in books; I refused to be allowed to be hurt like that again.” Hermione pulled away, and wiped some of her tears again. A smile crossed her face and a laugh came from her. “Funny, I never realized that it was my fault I didn't have many friends in the first place.”

“But back to the reason I was telling you this story,” Hermione said. “Roland is the reason that I'm so smart. In a way, he's the reason why I'm friends with you and Ron. So his accident did have a reason, Harry. And as much as I hate to say it…” she trailed off, but Harry knew what she was going to say. It had to due with Sirius and his parents' deaths. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, Hermione was right. Again. “As I said, it's a thing that Grangers push on their children. Dad did it with me, and Aunt Kris must have done it with Roland.” Harry noticed for the first time that Hermione had worn make up. Her tears had smeared the mascara that she was wearing. There was something different about her face today.

“When did you start wearing makeup?” Harry asked.

“Oh, this,” Hermione touched her face. He was right; she was wearing makeup. “How did you notice?”

“It's running,” Harry replied. She gasped as she touched her face and pulled her hand away to see the mascara on it. “And besides, there was something different about you today.” Hermione smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she paused for a moment, “Ron doesn't even notice.”

“He'll notice in time,” Harry said without thinking. “Just give it to him.” He placed a hand on her cheek and stroked it with his thumb. “You are very sweet and would make a perfect girlfriend.”

“Thanks.” Hermione seemed to lean into Harry's hand, but neither noticed. They just stared into each other's eyes.

“Hermione, your father's home,” Mrs. Granger shouted from downstairs. The two of them snapped out of their trance, and they blushed a bright red. They refused to look at each other.

“Give me a few minutes,” Hermione finally said, “I need to fix my makeup, and then I'll take you down to meet my dad.” She was out of the room in a blink of an eye, and Harry was left standing there, thinking about what just had happened. Hermione looked beautiful today and Harry had never seen her like that before. What was happening to him?

Hermione introduced Harry to her dad, and he thought that Harry was Ron. That happened and left two red, baffled teenagers in the living room as Mr. Granger left the room. Mrs. Granger cooked them dinner and for the first time since he had eaten with the Weasleys, Harry felt at home. The Grangers were kind, and with a few hints from Hermione, they stayed away from touchy subjects. And Harry answered with a smile as they talked about some milder adventures they had at Hogwarts. It was so long since he smiled with good friends.

After dinner, Hermione took Harry out back to see the moonrise and the stars appeared in the sky. It never occurred to her that he had never even seen a sunset before. The back of the house was facing a large open plain and the sun was setting just beyond the horizon. “Wow,” was all that Harry could say. Hermione leaned into him as they stared out. He wrapped an arm around her without thinking. The silence was all the words that they need to be happy, and it gave the most comfort. Harry felt a tear and wished, probably for the thousandth time, to have his parents back.

“So cute isn't it,” Her mum said standing in the doorway. She felt a quick breeze of cold air, and knew that her nephew was near.

“They have no idea,” he said, “but leave them in their false worlds.”

“Why?” She wanted to turn around, but felt that it was better not to do so. “They should-” Roland wouldn't be there anymore if she did move. His voice held some tension in it, as if he was upset about something.

“It's better to keep some in the dark and their happiness whole,” Roland replied, “instead of crushing it in a single moment.” He was talking of Ron. The boy would be crushed if he found out that Hermione loved her other best friend. “Besides, neither knows.” Mary gasped at his comment. “Love is blind, Aunt Mary. It's best-” Roland stopped talking for a moment and Mary could almost envision him turning his head towards something.

“I need to go; all is taken care of for Ronald when he comes. He should be arriving by a muggle bus with Dumbledore and an old friend of mine. If I'm not back by then, you should give my friend the note I left on the table. Don't read it, just give it too him. What's in it doesn't concern you or Ron.” Mary noticed how he left out Harry and Hermione's names. “Please just do this for me. And if a girl calls for me…” Roland trailed off for a moment. “Tell her that my heart and soul are hers to command, and I will never leave her.” The cold wind returned, this time from the back. Roland had gone off in that direction.

Mary learned a lot in the past few days, and one of them was that her intuition was often right. So she was right about her daughter and her friend. It seemed so obvious to her and her husband, but to them it was nothing new. She smiled at the couple as they came be in, and vowed not to tease them anymore about it. After all, Roland was right. She didn't want Ron to be hurt when he found out that his friends were in love.

“Coming in so soon?” she asked. “The sun hasn't full set yet.” Harry quickly released Hermione, and she moved a bit away from him.

“It got cold.” Hermione looked back at the sun set and sighed, upset by something, but her mother didn't press for information. Mary figured that her daughter just wanted to stand close with Harry some more or something like that.

“Yeah,” Harry quickly add, “plus it's been a long day.” He looked at Hermione, and smiled.

“I have to get some reading done,” Hermione said, “but you're right.” She returned the smile to Harry and they just stared at each other. Mary shook her head. How could they not notice it? Maybe it was because of the blood that ran through. Roland said there was something special about it and that was the only obvious explanation to it.

“You two go in and get to bed.” Mary said, “Ron's coming early tomorrow, around eight.” Hermione had an excited look on her face while Harry's looked down and upset. She knew that he was going to feel left out. Hopefully, Roland would get home that night so Mary could talk with him about Harry. She didn't want a child dying, especially one under her care.

As they walked inside, Mary thought about how Harry looked. He took it hard when she said that Ron was coming at eight. It looked like Harry was enjoying himself and it was quite possible that this dating between his two best friends hurt him deeper then he realized. How could Hermione be so blind about that hurt her friend so much? Mary decided that Hermione was mistaking what Harry was upset about for something else. It was the only reasonable explanation towards her daughter's actions. But there was nothing that she could do, as Roland asked that she stay out of it. But that didn't mean Marry would like it.

* * * * * *

A telephone rang downstairs and woke Harry. He was groggy and wiped his eyes. Reaching for his glasses in a daze, Harry placed them on and looked at the clock. It read a little past one in the morning. His room was pitch-black. It rang again. Harry grunted and got out of bed. Odd how the only phone that was ringing was the one downstairs.

He walked down stairs and saw a light coming from the kitchen. Harry turned the corner and saw a laptop on the kitchen counter, turning on and searching for something. Screens kept popping up on it, as if it was looking for something. The ringing had stopped, and Harry heard footsteps coming from the living room. He quickly went back to the stairs and hung against the wall. And there he waited

No one came. Odd, Harry thought. Someone should have at least come, and then what were the footsteps? It was impossible; someone had to be there. And Roland said it himself; no magic could be performed on these grounds. So that meant no apparating. But no one was here. All the possibilities ran through Harry's mind and none of them seemed logical. Other than walking through the wall. The front door opened and in walked a man whom Harry thought was Roland.

“Why does duty have to call at the worst time?” Roland said as he walked into the kitchen. Harry watched as Roland walked over the fridge and opened it up, adding even more light to the room. He pulled out some leftovers and took a seat at the laptop. He pressed a button and watched the computer scan something. “I suggest you stop standing in the door way if you want answers, Harry.” Stepping out from behind the wall, Harry was shocked. How did Roland know that Harry was there? It wasn't possible. “Oh, Harry, all things are possible. You just have to open your mind to them.” There was a long period of silence as Roland continued to eat and work on the laptop.

“Where were you?” Harry finally asked.

“Working,” Roland said; he didn't move from the table.

“Working?” Harry replied. His answer didn't really answer much about where he was

“Working.” Roland pulled out a flask from his pocket and took a big drink from it. “Are you going to ask your question?”

“I didn't know I had a question,” Harry replied.

“Well, you do, so ask it.”

“If you know that I have question, then you can answer it for me.” Truth was Harry had no idea what his question was.

“It's not like I can read minds, Harry.” Roland placed his flask down on the table, and began to type something.

“Then how did you-”

“Empathic abilities allow a person to feel what others are feeling,” Roland started, “So I didn't read your mind; I felt that you were confused about something. And confusion often leads to questions. So ask away.” The computer screen was changing rapidly.

“Fine,” Harry said, “what is your job?” It wasn't a good question, but at least it was a question.

“It's very complicated, Harry,” Roland sighed. “You're not ready for to know what I do yet. Just-” a beeper went off and Roland pulled it out of his pocket. “Damn. Harry, just know that there is a whole other world out there, one that makes Voldemort look like a mouse.” Harry watched as Roland stood up, and the computer disappeared, as did the container on the table. All that was left was a note. “Give this to Aunt Mary if I don't make it back by eight.” Roland was gone, as if he disapparated from the house, which couldn't happen because no magic.

This is just getting confusing, Harry thought, as he walked back upstairs to the guest room. What did Roland mean when he said that there is another world out there? Is that even possible? He fell asleep quickly as if it was casted upon him. His dreams were silent as the shadows and calm as the Pacific Ocean. Over all it was the best night's sleep that he had had in a long time.

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Chapter 7: Time has a way of fixing itself

By; The Dark Aeon, Chronos of Naldia

Author's Notes: this is the last completed chapted I have, so the next one could take a while, in a mean time enjoy and review.

Godsowndevil: yes I will. The next few in fact. Maybe even this one…

davaca: what are you confused about? Can you explain it to me so I can fix it?

This chapter can be confusing, that is part of it. Just understand the last line and you can get the idea of it.

* * * * * *

“Dear god,” Mrs. Granger voice echoed through the house. It was the first thing that Harry heard when he woke up. Hermione's scream came next, followed by the voices of people that he didn't quite recognize yet. But he did hear on that was familiar—Ron. Was it eight already? Harry must have sleep well, then. He didn't remember any of his dreams for the first time in months.

He grabbed his glasses and got up quickly. A man yelled from downstairs, “Just get him over to the kitchen, I don't want the blood ruining the nice carpet you've got.” Moving even quicker, Harry grabbed an old t-shirt from Dudley and placed it. He hurried out of the guest room and down the stairs. Everyone was crowded in the kitchen.

“What happened?” Harry asked. He looked over at Hermione standing in Ron's arms and felt as if the whole world was wrong.

Hermione looked up, and was about to answer, but she just started to sob again. It was Ron who started to talk. “He came in a few minutes after Professor Dumbledore and Doctor Strange arrived with me. God, Harry, I've never seen a man with so much blood on him.” Mr. Granger came running in with a large box. When he placed it down, he pulled out bandages and tape.

“Get off of me,” the man on the table yelled. The man whom Harry assumed was Doctor Strange was thrown away and crashed into the fridge, making a dent in it. The man wore a long red cape and blue and yellow outfit that was perfect only on Halloween. He had graying hair and an aged appearance, but like Dumbledore, had a twinkle in his blue eyes.

But what Harry saw would give him nightmares for the rest of his left. Two large crow wings where folded underneath the body, a body that was twitching, trying to get away. A large piece of metal was sticking out of its stomach, and blood was pouring out of the wound. The man screamed; his voice was as deep as hell and just as dark. His skin was almost pitch-black with red markings all over his body. Two ram horns came from the middle of his forehead. It was as if the Devil himself was on the table.

“Roland,” Professor Dumbledore said, “please relax.”

“How can I fucking relax with a blessed blade sticking out of my stomach,” he replied and screamed again. The scream was loud and Harry had to cover his ears. He looked over at Hermione, who was kneeling in front of Ron, covering her ears too. Ron was leaning against the wall. The screaming died down. “Doc, can't you pull it out?” Harry watched as Roland reached for it and quickly moved his hand away. Smoke was coming from it.

“Roland,” Doctor Strange stood up and walked back over, “You need to change out of that form. We can't-”

“I can't, all right!” Roland shouted. He groaned and made another grab for the piece of metal in his stomach. Holding on to it longer this time, he grunted as he pulled away. “That damn fu-”

“Roland Demoas!” Mrs. Granger yelled. “You may be injured but you will still keep a clean mouth.”

“Fine,” Roland said and grabbed the metal, pulling it out quickly. In a swift motion, he threw it out the window; the shattered glass came inward instead out to the grass. Harry watched as Roland's horns slowly dissolved back into his head, his wings shrink, and his skin lighten back to its normal tan. Without a word being spoken, Doctor Strange walked over and held his hands over Roland's stomach. They glowed a bright blue as the doctor spoke.

“By the Moons of the fifth planet, by the rays of the golden sun,” Doctor Strange said, “By the auras of the nine heavens, I call upon your powers to heal your worthy servant.” It was impossible, magic was being cast in a house where it was supposed to be impossible. But Harry watched as Roland's wound glowed a bright blue and slowly fixed itself. He was still covered in blood and was a bit pale, but he almost looked normal. His black eyes stared upward for a moment before blinking.

“But what do we do about them?” Roland asked, sitting up on the table. He held his stomach. “They are going to ask questions, and I-”

“All will be taken care of Roland,” Professor Dumbledore said.

“What are you going to do?” Ron asked. Hermione was still staring at her cousin.

“Nothing a little time won't fix,” the Headmaster said as he looked at Roland. He sighed.

“The spell is dangerous and I-” Roland started.

“Not that one,” Strange said. “A simple memory spell.”

“But an extended range?” Roland asked. He was confused about the simplicity of it. Doctor Strange nodded. It seemed the three men were talking amongst themselves then.

“Excuse me?” Hermione said, finally recovering from what she had just seen. She wanted to get involved. Harry leaned back against the wall, and watched in silence. He doubted that there was much that any of them could do against Professor Dumbledore, this Doctor Strange and Roland.

“Look, Roland, the incantation is simple,” Dumbledore was saying to him. Harry couldn't help but smile. The memory charm was a simple one, but Roland was having a hard time with it. And from what he had seen Roland do, it was odd for a powerful wizard to have a difficult time with an incantation. “All you need to do is-”

“Wait, go back,” Roland said, “What are the words again?” he had a confused look on his face as the two older men talked to him.

“Excuse me?” Hermione repeated. Again no one was paying attention to her. Mr. And Mrs. Granger had left, but Harry didn't really know why. “Excuse me!” Hermione practically yelled this time. “What the bloody hell you are three talking about? How dare you-” Doctor Strange waved a hand and Hermione's mouth closed rather quickly.

“Quiet,” Doctor Strange said in a calm tone, but his eyes showed anger. “You aren't ready for what you have seen today.” The man turned back to Roland. “Do you understand what you are going to do?”

“As long as you can create a cover story,” Roland said, “I can erase this moment from their minds.”

Now Harry was interested. “Wait,” he said, “why do you need to erase it?”

“Because they aren't ready for it,” Doctor Strange replied, shooting a glance at Hermione and Ron. “Especially her.” He paused. “There is much that you need to be told, now is not the time nor is that time approaching. But now, we must erase this moment from your mind.” Strange turned to Roland. “Ready?”

“As much as I'll ever be.” Roland stood up, still holding his stomach. He crouched down and closed his eyes.

“You can't do this,” Ron started to shout, “you have no right.”

“No, my child,” Dumbledore said. “This is perfectly within his rights as a Hunter.” Ron started to speak again, but Dumbledore raised a hand and a blue light slowly moved from it. When it hit Ron, he froze in place, his skin then a shade of blue.

Hermione tried to scream but with her mouth still closed tight, there wasn't much she could do. Instead, for the first time in his life, Harry watched Hermione do something irrational. She ran over to Dumbledore and started to hit him on the chest. No one really moved save Hermione who continued to hit Dumbledore.

Strange walked over to her and spoke softly. “By the Gems of the End, sleep child, and feel no more.” Waving a hand, Hermione eye's closed and she feel asleep, collapsing in Dumbledore's arm.

“Harry,” Dumbledore asked.

“Oh, right,” Harry replied and ran over to help Dumbledore with Hermione.

“Just place her against the wall, Harry,” Dumbledore said, pointing to the wall. “Then we can continue on with the ceremony.” Harry looked over at Roland who had shifted now. His weight was over on his right leg and he was closer to the ground.

Harry picked Hermione up and felt how light she was. He would have never guessed that she was this light. It was as if she weighed nothing. He smiled at the pretty girl in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer to him. Just as gently as he picked her up, Harry placed her against the wall, but she didn't want to let go. “Hermione,” Harry pleaded. “Let go.” But it was pointless to ask the sleeping girl to release her friend.

“Release the child, my dear,” Strange said, as he began to fix the window. A frown appeared on her face, but she did as she was told. Harry looked over at Roland, who had shifted again. This time his weight was on his other leg. “You should help your other friend sit down, too. That way…” Strange trailed off as he looked at Roland. This time, he was balanced evenly and pushed forward with his hands, exhaling the entire time. A wand appeared in Roland's hand and he said the incantation. Opening his hollow eyes slowly, Roland looked around.

“It didn't work,” he said in disappointment.

“Why wouldn't it?” Dumbledore asked. “I thought that this seal was tuned into your powers.”

“It is,” Strange replied, “I'll tell you later. Roland, I want you-” No other words were spoken for a bright light formed around Roland and practically threw everyone back. Strange was the first one up on his feet and tried to steady upright. “No you fool. You're not strong enough.”

“I don't care,” Roland said. Harry watched, as the light grew even brighter. Roland turned and faced them, and Harry noticed that his eyes were now white, as was his mouth. “This is the only way.”

“No!” Strange yelled. “You'll die!”

“Time has a way of fixing itself, Doc,” Roland said. And that was the last thing that Harry heard as the white light covered him and the entire room.

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Chapter 8: Peace for a moment…

By: The Dark Aeon, Chronos the Fallen

Author's Notes: Here it is another chapter. I didn't feel like waiting and where I was going to pause this chapter seemed wrong, so enjoy.

davaca: almost positive that they will be. For reference, Roland is a Hunter, and no, Harry and Hermione will not become them.

godsowndevil: no

Ryusuken: Just wait, it will get more confusing. The only two known elements that work almost harmoniously are Earth and Air.

So continue to ask questions, I will address them, and please R&R

* * * * * *

Ron was supposed to arrive pretty soon, right at eight o'clock sharp. Harry was eating at the time, while Hermione was still sleeping. She must have forgotten that Ron was coming at eight. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were sitting at the table, talking amongst themselves, and would occasional ask Harry something. After the third nod of his head, they stopped talking altogether.

There was too much on Harry's mind at the moment. He had an odd dream the night before. But it wasn't like his other dreams. This one had nothing to do with Voldemort or any true evil, as far as Harry understood. Rather, it was pain. A black man with wings was laying a table screaming in pain and had a sword through his stomach. But in truth, it wasn't the man's pain that disturbed him; it was the crying brunette in the back ground being held by a red-haired man. The pain in the girl's eye caused Harry's heart to ache tremendously. He didn't remember the rest of the dream, only those few points.

“Harry,” Mrs. Granger asked again. “Are you alright?” Harry just nodded and moved his oatmeal around on his plate. Truth be told, he wasn't. As much as Harry didn't want to care, he did. He cared that Ron and Hermione were going out. And he felt left out… Again. It was as if Fate just loved playing cruel tricks on him. But why was this one a trick? That was the single question that kept on echoing through Harry's mind. Why did he care so much that it made him even further depressed?

“Harry?” Mr. Granger asked. People just didn't want to leave him alone, did they? It was alright that every one was worried about Harry, but some times, just being lone was what a person truly needed. And neither of the Grangers could figure it out, Harry just wanted to be alone and think. Whatever they thought of it, that was their decision, but now, Harry just wanted to alone.

He stood up and walked away, without much a word to Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Most of the things that Harry wanted to do involve the wizarding world, and hence under the ban that Roland had placed on the household. But there were a few things that Harry could still do, and reading was one of them. For the past three weeks, Harry had buried himself into books, and as dull as they were, they kept him from thinking about Hermione… and Ron. Though Ron was always an after thought lately. And with the problems of the mutants, Harry's life just continued to spin. Roland seemed to help; at times he would just listen. Maybe that was the thing he needed to most someone to listen. But truth be told, Harry didn't know what he needed or even wanted, besides being alone.

But reading was his escape and he finally knew what Hermione loved it so much. The world stopped around him as he read his books. And thanks to Roland, Harry didn't have to read just non-fiction. They stopped off at a book store in the mall, and Harry ended up with two or three bags of books. Roland had allowed him to keep the books along with another thing else they bought that day. Muggle items had no affect on the protection spell, thank Merlin.

Stopping at his room, Harry sat down heavily on his bed and pulled out a book from one of his bags. It was a fantasy one, and something caught Harry's eye. As similar as the world was to his own, it was different and guaranteed a happy ending. He had finished two of the series and was bored by some of the descriptions, but the characters were interesting. And it was different, hell, even the romance novels were different then Harry's life. The books being different from his own life was the most important thing that Harry found when he read. Nothing else really seemed to matter unless that was fulfilled.

Leaning back against the wall, Harry opened up the book and read, getting lost in the characters it created and the place it had spun into existence. He didn't even notice the ringing of neither the clock downstairs nor the absence of Ron's arrival. But he did notice that Carolyn was having problems with her best friend, Joey, and that villain of the story was even more twisted then he knew before. The fiction seemed more real then life. And with his life as horrible as it was, Harry didn't want to live in his world. He wanted to live in one of the worlds that he read about, where there is no dark lord looming over him or his death just around the corner. And in these stories the love that the hero received was pure.

“Harry?” Hermione said. He looked from his book to see Hermione in her robe, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “You're reading?”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “So?”

“Nothing,” she replied, and returned the smile. “I just never would have thought that you would like to read, that's all.”

“I like to do things other then Quidditch, Ms. Granger.” Hermione smirked at him, entering the room. “I just never choose to show them before.” Neither one spoke for a while. Harry didn't even Hermione move closer to the bed.

“Wha'cha reading,” she asked. Harry turned the cover of the book up so Hermione could see it. “Oh.” She looked surprised when she saw what book it was. “I would have never thought you'd like those books.” Her sarcastic smile caused Harry to glare at her.

“And what's wrong with them?” Harry asked. It was a cheesy romance book, and despite the poor plot, Harry did like the characters. The heroine remembered him of Hermione. And truth be told, Harry sort of saw himself as the hero of the story.

“They're so trashy,” Hermione said, taking a seat on the bed. She carefully grabbed the book from Harry, not losing his place. “I just…”

“You just what, Hermione?” Harry smirked at her, and she blushed. Was it possible that Hermione liked them too? Logical Hermione? Harry didn't believe it. But from her reaction it seemed to be true, at least as far as Harry could tell.

“Nothing, Harry,” she quickly got up. “I'll talk to you later.”

“You can borrow any of my books,” Harry said just before Hermione left. She paused and looked at him. She seemed surprised to hear him say something like that. “Any of them. And any time you want to, as long I'm not reading it at the moment.” Harry preferred to finish a book first before starting a new one. That way he could get to know the characters better.

Hermione blushed slightly. So Harry was right, she did like to read the romance novels too. “Thanks,” was her soft reply before rushing out of his room. Harry shook his head; he would never understand girls, let along a woman like Hermione.

And that caused every single thought in his head to stop. When did Hermione become such a beautiful woman? Harry knew that she didn't look like that last year. So when did it happen? In his eyes, she was always Hermione was this carefree girl who followed him around every where, and now all of the sudden, Hermione's this beautiful woman who always followed him around. What in the bloody hells happened? Harry looked back down at his book. But she's off limits, after all. Ron is her boyfriend and I am her other best friend. I can't act like she's some slab of meat. No, Hermione's more then that. She's much more.

The door bell rang, and broke Harry out of his thoughts. That must be Ron. He got up and stretched, not realizing how sore his body was.. Reading was tiring, despite how relaxing it truly was. He placed his book and walked slowly, not really care about how fast the got to the door.

Mr. Granger had already gotten the door and was ushering in professor Dumbledore and another old man. Ron appeared right behind them, dragging his trunk with him. “Hello there, Mr. Granger, ” Dumbledore said.

“Why, Hello, Professor Dumbledore.” Mr. Granger replied. “It's been a while, not since Hermione's second year. How are you doing?”

“Fine, thank you,” Dumbledore smiled. “And how is Hermione, healing okay?” Harry paused. He didn't ask her about that. From what he had seen, she looked fine, but not all wounds were physical.

“Yes, her cousin gave her a once over when he came here,” Mrs. Granger said. She came in drying a dish and had a smile on her face. “He talked with her recently about the emotional scars, and most of them are gone.”

“Good, good,” Dumbledore replied, “I would like to meet this Roland.”

“Maybe later today, Albus,” the other old man said, He was wearing a brown trench coat and hat to cover the rest of his head. “But right now, I want to meet this Harry Potter.” When Harry heard his name, his eyes went up in surprise. From the way that the man said his name, it sounded as if he didn't know who Harry Potter is. And that was odd.

“I'm here,” Harry said, stepping down from the stairs.

“So this is the Boy-Who-Lived?” the man looked up from the ground. Harry had never seen ice-blue eyes before. Truth was, it was mesmerizing. The old man gave him a quick look before turning to Dumbledore. “I will want one of my Hunters to talk with him.”

“That's fine, Stephen,” Dumbledore said. “As long as it is just talking. I don't want him to get the notion to be a hero and try to help.”

“I can arrange that, one of my Hunters is already in town.” Stephen turned back to Harry. “My name is Doctor Stephen Strange. I am one of the people who will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers. A Mister Lupin and Miss Tonks will be working with me.” Harry smirked. Dumbledore finally did something smart. With Remus and Tonks working at the school, that would mean the Order would have a better chance of watching over him. Harry didn't want that, but with at least them, he could probably persuade them to leave him alone some of the time. And that would mean someone to talk to now that Hermione and Ron were dating. “I'm sure that my Hunter has made the appropriate modifications to the protections?”

“Oh, relax, Stephen,” Dumbledore said, turning to the man. “Everything had been taken care of. You said it yourself; he has done all that he could to protect this place.” Dumbledore looked around and smiled when his eyes met Harry's. “Enjoy you're week Harry. Don't worry about the Dark Lord, or anything else. Just enjoy yourself.” Dumbledore took one final look around before turning to the door; Ron was sitting on his trunk, staring at both of the old men. Both of them were talking about hunters and the danger of their prey. It was then that Harry remembered the note.

“Mrs. Granger?” Harry finally said, “Roland asked me to give this to you.” Harry removed the crumbled letter from his pocket. “Sorry.”

“It's alright, Harry dear,” she said, taking the note. After looking at it for a moment, she hastily placed it in one of her pockets. “Thank you.” She looked a bit upset, but Harry figured it was nothing.

“Well,” Mr. Granger said, “you must be Ron Weasley?” he held out a hand for Ron to take. “Hermione's boyfriend?” Harry didn't like the sound of Ron being called Hermione's boyfriend, despite it being the truth. It just didn't sound correct.

“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Granger replied. Ron shook Mr. Granger's hand with a smile. “Why else would he be here?” She smiled at Ron, and also shook his hand. “Harry will be staying with us for the week as well.” Ron's expression changed from happiness to confused. “Dumbledore thought it best if he got out of the Dursley's a bit. A bit lonely.” It was a bold face lie if Harry ever saw one, and Mrs. Granger told without even a hint of the truth. At least, Harry thought it was a lie.

“Oh, okay,” Ron said. He turned to Harry, “Can you help me with my trunk?” Harry just nodded.

“I'll show you to our room,” Harry replied, as he walked down the stairs to Ron's trunk. There was something different about Ron. Maybe it was just the way he stood and carried himself. But there was something odd about his friend and Harry didn't like. So many things have changed. Why did you have to leave Sirius? I could really use your help now.

They carried the trunk up in silence, neither one really wanting to speak. Harry felt awkward with Ron for some reason, yet couldn't place his finger on it. There was something different about him, something different about the way he carried himself. Or was it how he looked at Harry, with such violence and anger only to cover up again with false pretenses. This only got Harry to wonder what he did to upset Ron at the moment.

“So how's your summer been so far?” Harry asked once they got to the room.

“Wonderful mate, wonderful,” Ron said, dropping his end of the trunk. Harry carefully let his end down as Ron continued to talk. “Herms came over once or twice and we had a great time, if you know what I mean.”

“She really doesn't like it when people shorten her name,” Harry said, smirking.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Ron said, shaking his head with a smirk. “When are you going to realize that I'm not `some people.' I'm her boyfriend. That rules doesn't apply to me.” Ron laughed, walking over to Harry's bed. “What are these trashy novels doing here, Harry, I can't believe you are reading such filth.”

“What's matter to you?” Harry asked, grabbing the book from Ron's hands, making sure his place was still marked. “And is it filth because its romance, or because it's Muggle?” Harry asked accusingly of Ron. There was something wrong, definitely wrong with him. Yet he could not put his finger on it. Why the hell couldn't he put his finger on?

“Both actually,” Ron replied. “I mean, c'mon Harry. Why spend your time reading when you could go do something fun?”

“Reading is fun, Ronald,” Hermione said. By the tone of her voice, Harry could tell that she was upset at his last comment. “Some of us enjoy reading.”

“Reading is just a waste of time,” Ron replied, “especially when you have a boyfriend, right Harry?” Harry knew better then to get into the middle of a quarrel. Besides, he didn't want to side with Ron on this one anyways.

“No, reading is just as important, right Harry?” Both of them were looking at him, and now Harry was getting confused. Ron looked mad because Hermione asked him, and Harry thought…, no knew that Hermione was mad because Ron was trying to change who she is.

“I have to agree with Hermione,” Harry finally said, and Ron glared at him. “It is important to be as normal as possible in a relationship, despite whatever may change.”

“Right,” Hermione added, “friendship and acceptance must come first. If can't accept who I am Ron…” she trailed off, but everyone knew what came next.

Ron sighed. “Fine then, reading is alright.” His words were exaggerated and sarcastic. A smile came on his face. “Hermione, did I tell you today that you look pretty?” Harry looked at her and had to agree; she did look pretty, though he was thinking more along the lines of beautiful.

Hermione blushed brightly, and looked down at the ground. “Really,” she said when she looked up. Harry sighed; he knew what Ron was doing. He was being nice to her and flattering her just to get his way.

“Of course, Herms,” Ron replied. Harry waited for the explosion from Hermione, but it never came. Turning to Harry and smirking, Ron added. “Can we have some alone time?

Sighing, Harry relented. He quickly grabbed his book and walked out of the room. Ron gave Harry one final smirk before closing the door. Once down stairs, Harry sat down heavily on one of the chairs. He didn't know why he was so upset at their relationship, but he did know he was. And that was upsetting to Harry. He should be happy for his friends…despite the fact that their pairing is even more messed up then Harry and Cho. He should be glad that their happy… despite them fighting all the time.

As hard as he tried, Harry couldn't concentrate on his book. He was curious at what his friends were doing upstairs. But it was also that curiosity that held him back. He doubted it was something too heavy, but he didn't want to take a chance. So in his chair, he sat and tried to read. No noise was coming from up stairs, so that was a good thing. He was almost done with his book when Both Ron and Hermione came back down. Hermione's face was bright red, and Ron's held an arrogant smirk on it. His lips looked redder then usually. Hermione couldn't make eye contact with Harry.

“Everything alright?” Harry asked as they came down. Hermione looked at Ron, and then she just nodded. Ron hadn't removed his smirk yet. There was just this feeling of pseudo-normalcy from both his friends.

So much had changed in the few weeks that they had come back from Hogwarts. Ron seemed more confident, Hermione less, and Harry… well, he wasn't quite sure where he changed. But everything was changing, and this change didn't seem to be good.

“Yeah,” Ron replied, wrapping an arm around Hermione. “Everything's great.”

Pride giveth, Pride taketh away, echoed in Harry's mind. He looked around. It couldn't have been Voldemort, he didn't feel a thing. It was just there. Jealous destroys those it cares about the most. There it was again. Neither Ron nor Hermione noticed it, or they didn't care to respond. And Anger kills.

“Hermione?” Mrs. Granger's voice came from the kitchen, “You and your friends ready for breakfast?”

“Yes Mrs. Granger,” Ron said, quickly leaving Hermione for food. He left her holding her arms, looking defeated. Harry noticed it. He was finally beginning to notice the littlest of things. It was something big for him, since he never noticed anything before. And that warrant suspicion. It was probably something he needed to talk with Roland about.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked after a moment of silence.

“What?” Hermione looked up, “oh me, fine, just fine.” She was looking around the room, especially where the kitchen doorway was. Where Ron left through. Harry remembered that bit of information and stashed it away for a moment.

“Sure?” Harry repeated. Hermione nodded then gave the most timid smiles he had ever seen.

“Thank you Harry,” she said. For a moment, neither moved, but Hermione gasped one moment then quickly dashed to the kitchen. Harry sat in his chair, thinking of what just happened. They came down, Hermione looked upset and Ron pratish. Hermione seemed meek… wait, when do I use the word meek? Harry's whole thought process by that simple word. He had only heard Hermione say it probably once, and let alone actually use it himself. And what does it bloody mean?

Harry didn't get up for a while, thinking of what had just crossed his mind. So much has been changing; Hermione seems so different then last year. And Ron certainly is. Me…, I don't know how much I've changed, but… “Harry?” Mrs. Granger asked. “Are you coming to breakfast?” She stood in the door way. Harry didn't even realize that he was still sitting there.

“Yeah,” he yelled back. He placed his book down on the table and rushed over to the kitchen. Yes much had changed, but hopeful some things won't.

* * * * * *

Breakfast had past and with it all the air of oddness. Everything seemed normal. The Grangers had left for some shopping, leaving the kids alone in the house. Ron challenged Harry to a chess match, which turned hours of fun. After the first few matches, Ron was having harder and harder time winning. Harry finally saw the strategy within Ron's plays and soon began to counter them. After the first hour, Harry stalemated Ron, which stunned both of them. Neither had ever thought that it was possible. For the next hour, they played a single match, Ron taking his time with his moves.

“And checkmate,” Harry said, a smile growing on his face. For the last ten minutes, he had Ron on the run, moving him all over the board. And finally the end had come, and to Harry it was beautiful. To finally win against the Great Ronald Weasley in chess. Chess was one of the few things that Ron was better at then Harry, and it was nice to know that he was at least on equal footing.

But Ron's reaction was something new. He was mad that Harry won. And that just confused Harry even more. “You cheated,” were the first words out of his mouth.

“what?” Harry replied.

“That's the only way you could have won,” Ron said. “You can't have beaten me. That stalemate was a fluke.”

“If you think that this was a fluke, Ron,” Harry said, trying to keep his temper under control, “we'll play again.”

“Fine then.” Ron quickly set up the chess board. It took ten minutes, with Harry taking the longest, and he won again. Ron threw the board up in the air. “You cheated again.” Hermione looked up from her book to see the mess.

“Ron,” Harry laughed slightly, “how could I have cheated?”

“I don't know,” Ron stood up from the coffee table. He gave one final glare at Harry before turning away. Clearly, he was thinking. He paused once, and a smirk grew on his face. “You're a mutant.” Hermione gasped at the statement while Harry just glared. Why would Ron say something like that in such a horrible tone? His mother and Sirius were mutants and they were damn fine people.

“Proof,” was all Harry said.

“You read my mind.”

“Proof,” he repeated. In truth, Harry didn't really know what he did. He just saw and noticed and reacted. It was the little things again. Like how Ron always moved his pawns or rooks. Or how he always rubbed his chin when planning something. It was the little things that showed Harry how to win. And he never forgot. That happened to be the biggest change in him. He remembered what Ron's first move was down to the very last. It was the oddest feeling in the world. But that was certainly no proof for mutant powers, though it wasn't going to stop Harry from asking Roland.

“I felt something,” Ron stuttered.

“Harry is it true?” Hermione asked, a bit apprehensive. She looked so scared that he might actually be one that it almost worried him. He shook his head. Ron glared at the Boy-Who-Lived.

“Any changes that big I would tell you guys,” He replied and that was the truth. Harry had no trouble in accepting it now that he knew about wizards. “Besides, Remus said most wizards are mutants, they just don't realize it.” He shrugged and stood up. “Now if you excuse me, I'm going to go read one of my other books.” Harry walked up the stairs without a look back, but the face that Hermione made stuck with him. A look of concern and disappointment.

Harry stopped shortly at the guest room and grabbed one of his books. He didn't notice the title and didn't care. All he wanted was to get out of his world and into anything. So much for being normal. He sighed as he walked down the stairs and outside. He didn't even notice Ron and Hermione missing. Probably some where snogging. A small pang of sadness and loss hit him but he didn't know why. He continued outside and sat down on the edge of the deck.

For awhile, Harry read peacefully. Much of his time was spent like that, reading. For the next few hours, Harry didn't move much other then to turn the page. He was comfortable at least for the moment. And nothing could move him. Exact Hermione' face when she asked that question. In truth, it confused Harry for he didn't really know how one became a mutant.

“How do you become a mutant?” Harry asked no one in particular.

“Tragedy.” Roland walked out from the shadows that formed over on the fence. “It takes great tragedy for mutant powers to form.” He looked tired and was hold his stomach. “It could be something as little as a simple thing, but a crush to a sixteen year-old is a powerful thing. Or it could be stakes being driven through your hands and being given forty lashes.” Roland shrugged. “It really matters on the person. Only they will truly know why that time was chosen and why it happened to them.” He took a seat next to Harry, grunting as he moved.

“You okay?” Harry asked.

“No, but I will be.” Roland sighed when he was finally down. “I'm just tired, that's all.” Smiling, he looked forward. “For a while, I've always dreamed that my work would finally be over and I could rest. Just sleep for a while.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “I've seen so much death and little has brought comfort to this world, but I have made progress. Yes I have.” Looking down, he repeated. “Yes I have.”

Harry couldn't help look shocked at this man. Roland looked so strong and healthy and here he was, tired and weak. He seemed to lose so much of that strength. With the sun setting, the last rays seemed to fall upon him. The light seemed to take all the strength that he had. “Now, enough of my complaining. How was your day?” With that, Harry told Roland everything, including his questions. Roland just nodded at everything, taking it in. “I have a theory, but give me a few days to work it through.” Smiling and grunting, Roland got up slowly. “Come inside, I have some things we need to discuss.” Harry watched as the man limped into the house.

For a while, Harry sat outside. He stared at the setting sun. It was beautiful, as was the field across from the Granger's house. Yet something was missing, deep within his soul, he knew, something was missing. “Harry?” Mr. Granger asked. Harry heard his footsteps, but continued to think could it be Sirius? A tear came to his eye at the thought of his godfather. He never really grieved, but just accepted the fact that his godfather was gone. Now was not the time. Harry wiped away the tear, and continued to stare forward. “Harry?” Mr. Granger repeated. Maybe he was upset over all the changes that have been happening. Where did everything change?

The sun continued to set, casting one final ray on Harry and Mr. Granger. That night at the ministry, that was when all of it changed. Everything had changed. Hermione seemed less assertive, Ron more aggressive. And me? How did I change? Life was so different now; people were growing up and moving on, leaving Harry behind again to do their dirty work. With the prophecy, that seemed to be the meaning of his life. “Probably better just to end it for both of us,” Harry said softly.

“What was that Harry?” Mr. Granger asked.

“What?” Harry knew that he was there, but chose to ignore it in his thoughts. “Oh, nothing. You wanted to talk to me?” he asked standing up.

“Yeah,” Mr. Granger replied. “Roland wants to talk to you, Hermione and Ron.” He spoke Ron with some contempt in his voice. Harry was noticing things he never even thought he'd notice before. Everything seemed to be coming clearer and more obvious. He was finally seeing the little things and those seemed to speak the world.

“Sure, I'll be in there in a few minutes,” Harry said, turning back to the sun set and the glowing earth. It was perfect, and yet something was still missing. Sighing, Harry wished he could find that missing piece to solve the puzzle. He walked back inside, checking his place in his book. Harry paused when he reached the kitchen, and saw Hermione and Ron sitting at the table. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were standing on one side. Roland was pacing; he looked tired and sick and with his limp the pacing looked awkward.

Harry took a seat next Hermione, who smiled at him. Ron glared at both of them, and Hermione looked down at her lap. Harry just frown and turned his attention to Roland. “Alright, with the permission of Aunt Mary and Uncle Joe, I've been allowed to set down ground rules. These are rules which you are all to follow or else.” A knife appeared from nowhere and was being twirled in Roland's hand. “Number 1: You three will stay in on the grounds at all times. Aunt Mary and Uncle Joe have something that protects them as long as you three are safe with the protections on this house hold.” He glared at Ron, who just shrugged.

“Rule 2: no magic. Period.” Roland shot a glance at Ron. “Rule 3: no PDA's while I'm in the room. If my girlfriend isn't here, I don't want to see any of it. Rule Four-” But Ron had to get a comment in. the knife had disappeared

“You have a girlfriend?” Ron asked sarcastically.

“Is that really so hard to believe?” Roland replied.

“Yeah, considered you look like a total geek.” Only he laughed at his comment. Roland took off his sunglasses and cleaned them on his coat. “I mean, she must be a total-” Ron didn't finish his sentence. Roland had crossed the room and was holding him up by the neck. Ron's chair was thrown back and Roland was standing where Ron was sitting. Ron's feet were dangling in the air.

“Finish that sentence, I dare you,” he said, snarling and bearing his sharp teeth. “Finish it!” His voice resonated through the minds of everyone there. No one dared to move. Harry was the only one who probably noticed the small bumps on Roland's head, or his skin darkening. There was something odd about him. Very odd. A taint filled the room, but no one seemed to notice it. “My friends at school always told me that I wore many masks. Care to see what's under this one?” Roland chuckled as Ron's face turned white. With his free hand, Roland reached underneath his chin and began to pull something off. The tearing of skin echoed the quiet kitchen only to be broken by the phone ringing.

Roland turned to it, and quickly dropped Ron. Harry watched as Roland jumped over the table to the phone. “Hello, this is the Granger's residence. Roland Demoas speaking. How may I help you?” he said, with no care. “Heather?” Harry watched as a smile grew on his face. “It's been too long. I've…” Roland walked into the other room with the portable phone. No one moved, not even Ron. They just stared at where Roland left.

Mr. Granger cleared his thought. “Rule four: treat others the way you wish to be treated. I will have all of you acting like adults in this house, especially around Roland.”

“Rule Five: Try to enjoy yourselves and don't let Roland get to you. He just has his moments. That's all.” Mrs. Granger smiled. “Just be patient with him. He's been through some tough times and is still going through them.”

“How could you allow that psycho into this household,” Ron asked, struggling to get up.

“For your information,” Hermione quickly said, “Roland is my cousin, and I happen to be proud of the way he stood up for his girlfriend. How would you like it if someone made fun of me?” When Ron didn't say anything, Hermione stormed out of the room. Harry sat there, staring. He wasn't quite sure of what he was supposed to say. Ron was in the wrong, but so was Roland. Things just continued to get more and more confusing.

“Well,” Mrs. Granger said, “would you two boys like some dessert? I'm sure we have some ice cream in the freezer.” She left to down to the basement to get it. Ron quickly nodded and rushed to help. Food the ever most important thing in his life.

And that left Harry and Mr. Granger. Hermione's father sighed. “As much as Hermione likes him, I don't trust him,” he said. Harry didn't know who Mr. Granger was talking about. “I mean, he treats her so badly sometimes, telling her what to do and everything.” He sighed again, and Harry noticed how old Mr. Granger was. He didn't seem like an old man, but in this moment, in this light, the years came back and covered Mr. Granger like a blanket, giving him some shelter and security. Now Harry knew why there were no other Granger children.

“I-I” Harry wanted to say that he didn't know what Mr. Granger was talking about, but that wasn't the truth. He couldn't lie to the man who had offered to take him in. “I've seen it too. But, she says she's happy and I want do anything to stop that.”

Mr. Granger smiled at Harry. “You're a good friend, Harry,” he said, “and a good man, never let anyone tell you otherwise.” It was an old smile and the pale blue eyes seemed almost grey from age. Harry had seen that Mr. Granger had worn glasses when he was reading the papers, again little details. Hermione's father had yet to remove them since he came home.

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said.

“Call me Joe,” Mr. Granger replied, “and please feel free to talk to me, Mary or Roland about anything. Especially Roland. I believe that you two will find that you have a lot in common.” Mr. Granger stood up and the old age disappeared when the lights were turned on.

Harry sat in the kitchen for a while, thinking about nothing really. It wasn't really important, just random thoughts going through his head at the time. So much was happening that he couldn't get it all straight yet. He needed some time to think about all that had just happened and let his mind reorganize itself. Night had come, and the blue moon was rising. Mutant powers came in more than one way and were not always power precisely.

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Author's Note: I'm sorry for this but in my brother's infinite wisdom he reformatted the hard drive on our computer so the next chapter could take a while. So I'm going to leave you something that may or may not be in my story. The concept behind it probably will remain in it through:

“Demons arise from beneath the grave,” Roland stood up from debris, he was with his shirt now and two large crow wings were stretched out behind him. Harry watched as Roland's skin began to darken as it did before. But never had he heard such an sinister voice, even from Voldemort. “And angels fall from the skies.” Roland took a step forward to the Death Eater right in front of Harry and Hermione. Harry pulled her closer, hoping to prevent any harm from her. “And I am the in-between.”

There was a slight pause in the battle, no one moved and only the burning of the church around them could be heard. The empty wind danced through, and Harry felt more secure. Looking down, he saw Hermione's eyes were open and staring at his. “Hey beautiful,” he spoke softly and pet her long auburn hair. Ron's punch had cut her lip, but the rest of her injuries were from the attack. Her left eye was beginning to swell and there were some bruises on her neck. There were probably some more injuries, but Harry didn't want to dwell on that. She was alive and that was that was important.

But the pause was over and Harry looked up to see Roland, or what he thought was Roland standing there. Roland now looked so different; half of his hair was long and blond, with a radiant yellow left eye. While the other half was pure black, and a red eye staring that the death eater. There was this heavenly glow about half his body, while a demonic one took the other half. The sheer neutrality of it was beautiful. It was then Harry knew the horror of it.

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Chapter 9: Shattering Walls

Author's note:

I know, it's taken me a long time to get this chapter out. It's short for I felt that you need to see some things. Granted, I've probably created more questions, but I can guarantee that everything will be answered.

I'm sorry, I really am. I've just had so much with everything, and work has been brutal. But here it is. And I felt, a bit different then what I usually write, but Harry needed to get these problems out into the open.

I'm leaving the explanation as to why this took so long on the new author's before this. And even though my little section below this AN is the same, just think of the impact it would have on Harry.

Thank you all for reviewing.

Emma Granger: Sometimes the best things are left unwritten. What you don't read in a story is just as important as what you do read.

Keytobias5: why thank you, and everything ends where it starts. For Ron and Hermione, we'll just leave it as a common event that has taken place in all the books.

* * * * * *

“Demons arise from beneath the grave,” Roland stood up from debris, he was with his shirt now and two large crow wings were stretched out behind him. Harry watched as Roland's skin began to darken as it did before. But never had he heard such a sinister voice, even from Voldemort. “And angels fall from the skies.” Roland took a step forward to the Death Eater right in front of Harry and Hermione. Harry pulled her closer, hoping to prevent any harm from her. “And I am the in-between.”

There was a slight pause in the battle, no one moved and only the burning of the church around them could be heard. The empty wind danced through, and Harry felt more secure. Looking down, he saw Hermione's eyes were open and staring at his. “Hey beautiful,” he spoke softly and pet her long auburn hair. Ron's punch had cut her lip, but the rest of her injuries were from the attack. Her left eye was beginning to swell and there were some bruises on her neck. There were probably some more injuries, but Harry didn't want to dwell on that. She was alive and that was that was important.

But the pause was over and Harry looked up to see Roland, or what he thought was Roland standing there. Roland now looked so different; half of his hair was long and blond, with a radiant yellow left eye. While the other half was pure black, and a red eye staring that the death eater. There was this heavenly glow about half his body, while a demonic one took the other half. The sheer neutrality of it was beautiful. It was then Harry knew the horror of it…

* * * * * *

Harry's night was filled with many things, and restless sleep was one of them. He saw the dream of the strangest thing; a man with black and blond hair was standing over a grave, he wore a cloak over the rest of his body. Harry couldn't make out what it said on the grave, but the man was clearly upset at the death. It was the oddest thing he had ever seen. There was just something about the man that disturbed the entire being of him. He didn't want to sleep any more

Shaking his head, Harry sat up slowly. He was sore for some odd reason. The room was a bit blurry, a tab bit less than normal for some strange reason. Harry grabbed his glasses and put them on before sitting up fully on his bed. The room looked a bit clearer, but it was only by a little bit. It was rather odd.

Harry looked at the clock and made it out to be around seven. He looked over at the Ron and saw that his friend was sleeping as gracefully, with on feet off the bed, an arm over his head and drool dripping down his chin. He snored loudly and Harry moved as quietly as he could, trying to get out of the room. He wanted a shower with hot water, and knowing Ron's habits of taking long showers, he didn't want to wait any longer.

Grabbing a pair of black jeans and one of his t-shirts, Harry rushed to the bathroom. Thankfully, no one was in it. Harry took one look around outside the bathroom then got inside and closed the door. No one else was awake yet. Harry was hoping for some time to himself. He sat down on the floor and sighed. There was so much going on that he had a hard time dealing with it. He thought he could handle Ron and Hermione going out, but there was something so different about them and it just made it worse. There was this feeling n the bottom of his stomach that told him that the relationship was wrong. Every fiber in his being spoke of how erroneous their dating was. It was just… Harry couldn't place a word to it, but he knew that they didn't belong together. But Hermione seemed so happy…

Harry stood up slowly. It was time for him to move on, this year he was going to be ready for Voldemort. If that last couple years were any indications of what was to come, then he was going to be ready. It was time for him to start new, after all today was a new day.

Harry had a quick show; he wrapped his towel around him just to hear someone knocking on the door. “Just a minute,” Harry said, drying his hair. He opened the door wide, completely forgetting what he was wearing. A small ekk escaped from someone. Hermione was the first thought. “Sorry,” he said. He quickly closed the door so only a little bit was open. Hermione was wearing her bathrobe and her hair was all over the place. She looked beautiful. Harry couldn't believe it, his face flashed red at the thought.

“I-I,” Hermione began to stutter. Harry had never heard her stutter before. It was a rather odd experience.

“I'll be out in a few minutes,” He said, smiling. A blush came over her face. She nodded, and Harry closed the door. Sighing, he felt so tense and yet he couldn't place a finger on it. There was something odd about today.

Hurrying up, Harry got dressed and opened the door. Hermione smiled at him the only way she knew, her smile that focused just on him, and entered the bathroom, pushing Harry outside. She smirked at him one more time before closing the door. Harry just leaned against it and relaxed. Yep, he thought, something is definitely going on. He felt different some how, just like he did before Ron came here. It was a simple sense of happiness, and when Ron came, it seemed to disappear.

Harry looked into his room, and saw that Ron was still asleep. He grabbed one of his books from his bag and walked back down stairs. Roland was lying on the couch, almost as graciously as Ron. The sunlight covered him and the black blanket that was over Roland's body. But there was something childlike about the man that Harry thought was almost odd. When awake, Roland was strong adult, who looked like he capable of anything, but now, all that power is gone and he was a child again. “They say when we sleep, we are all venerable to the world,” It was Mrs. Granger. “I always thought that he was the exception.” Harry turned around. Mrs. Granger had curlers in her brown hair and a smile on her face. Her pale blue robe fell all the way to the floor, covering her entire body, even her slippers. “But I guess we all are wrong about something or another.” She smiled at Harry. “I'll begin breakfast.” Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, Mrs. Granger led him into the kitchen.

Harry wanted to help, but Mrs. Granger told him no and to sit down at the table. He watched as she gracefully made her way around the kitchen, but something blocked his eyes. Someone giggled behind him. Hermione didn't giggle, did she? “Hermione?” he asked, and the hands were removed.

“How'd you know it was me?” she asked, taking a seat next to him.

“You're the only other girl in the house.” He smiled at her, “and a very pretty one at that.” Hermione blushed. Now why did I say that?

“I happen to think I look better in a dress than she does,” the off-hand comment came from Roland. Harry couldn't help but laugh at it, whether or not it was true. Hermione covered her mouth to hold back her laugher, but Mrs. Granger didn't even bother to try. Roland was placing on a black t-shirt as he walked into the kitchen and over to the basement door. “I want the book she owes me.” He disappeared downstairs, closing the door behind him.

“What?” Harry asked, still laughing. His face was red, as was Hermione. She finally broke into laughter after Roland disappeared.

“It's nothing, Harry,” Mrs. Granger said, “Roland just likes to make people laugh. A few nights ago, we sat down for coffee. He has these mood swings that come and go. That night was a bad one.” She continued making breakfast, not stopping during the story. “The depression hit him hard.” Hermione gasped as her mother spoke, while Harry just looked down. “I had found him spinning a knife on his finger tips. He was talking as if I wasn't there, looking right past me.” Harry had gone through the same thing, but for some odd reason, he felt his depression was nothing compared to Roland's. “He said, `the thing that scares me the most is that my friends and family shall die, while I live to watch. I can never forgive myself for that.' Roland was a child again, lost in the woods.” Mrs. Granger finally paused. Harry looked up to see her wiping her face.

Everyone is venerable when they sleep, Harry thought, it must be hard for her to sit by and watch this happen to her family. The night before was hard. He had the strangest dreams, one of Sirius, but Harry blocked that out quickly, and a stranger one than that. The latter dream refused to come to him, and he didn't want to think of Sirius right now. Even through Harry had finally stopped thinking about it, that didn't mean it hurt less. Some days it hurt more not having him to talk to. Harry was really hoping that they would be able to spend some quality time to together. And now… “Now, what would you like to drink?”

“Hmm?” Harry asked; he was lost in his own thoughts. Hermione looking at him weirdly, she placed a hand on his forehead.

“You okay, Harry,” she asked. Harry smiled at her, and she blushed.

“Yeah,” he replied. All that pain, all that anger was gone when Hermione touched him. “I am now.” The blush grew, and both of them looked away. Mrs. Granger smiled at the two children. Neither saw, but the whole world stopped when moments like this occurred. It was then; she realized that in the end, everything would turn out alright.

Breakfast came quickly, and neither teenager spoke for the rest of it. Around nine, Ron came down and devoured the remaining food, including what was left on Hermione's plate. He didn't ask her, but just took. Neither Harry nor Hermione said anything, each looking down for their own reasons. Harry couldn't look at Hermione right now, his feelings conflicting within his mind. It was hard for him, trying to understand just what was happening to him while coping with the death of his godfather and his friends dating. Life was not the best for him, and Harry just wanted to go away, go away further than he has ever gone.

When it was noon, the trio was left to their own devices as Mr. and Mrs. Granger had gone to do some shopping. He was reading another book that he had gotten from the shopping trip, and Hermione was reading one of the books that Roland had given her. Each was lost in their own little worlds, but rather, little glances were thrown to each other at random times. Neither saw the other look at them, but each was embraced each time they looked at their friend. “Harry,” Roland appeared at the doorway to the basemen. Harry was lost looking at Hermione. “Finish doing what you are doing and come down to begin your training.” He looked over at Hermione. “After lunch I will start yours.” She nodded, before looking down at the table.

AS Roland closed the door, Harry returned his attention to her. “Everything okay?” he asked. Hermione nodded, but he knew that something was wrong. He also knew that it was better for his to stay out of it as she was able to get mad at him for helping. “You know you can talk to me?” She nodded again. “Okay, so if you ever and I mean ever-”

“You'll be the first person I talk to,” Hermione smiled at him. A faint blush covered her face, and she immediately looked back down.

“Herms,” Ron called from upstairs. “Can you come here?” She sighed at the nickname, but got up nonetheless. In a moment, she was gone. The clouds covered sun, darken the almost empty room. It was harder to read his book without the light gone. Sighing, Harry closed the cover and placed his novel on the table. He got up, only to stretch, realizing how sore he was. It felt like hours, sitting there reading the story of the maiden and the hero.

“Coming?” Roland's voice echoed through the hallway. Harry didn't reply, instead, he just walked toward the basement and down the stairs. It was dark, as the lights were turned off. Harry reached around on the walls, looking for the switch but couldn't find it. `Don't bother, all the electricity is out of this basement. I made sure of it.” Looking deeper into the darken room; he saw a flickering light that danced a ways down the stairs. With nothing but his fear holding him back, Harry took a step with his Gryffindor courage. His shoes echoed down the stairs; he held out a hand touching the wall. He felt cold stone. Harry could have sworn that entire stair case was stone, especially the way the sound bounced off the walls. He walked silently, just reaching out and feeling the place. The air was cooler than upstairs, but Harry took that as a given. Most basements were like that.

The stairs were spirally, which was odd considering Harry could see the light straight ahead. “If you would relax, the stairs will fix themselves.” Harry stopped walking. That was Roland's voice. But where was he? Harry couldn't see anything other than the stairs and the flickering light was no closer. Harry took a few more steps, but nothing changed. “Just relax, Harry.” How could he relax with out any idea of what was going on? And what the hell was Roland doing? Harry's anger grew, boiling each moment past.

“This is your first lesson, just relax,” Roland said from no where. “If you can relax and calm yourself, you will have control over yourself. And that is what you need the most.” Footsteps walked up the stone stairs. “Would it help if you were in an environment more comfortable? Maybe. Do I care?” Roland appeared from the darkness, only a few steps down. “no.” the smirk was darkened by the flickering candle light. With the dancing shadows, Roland's form was eerier and almost evil. “Mind you, this is for your benefit.” Roland walked back down the stairs only to disappear within the light. “Now walk down the stairs, ya mudblood loving fool of a boy.”

Harry growled at the man. He dove, only to land on something hard and even. Which was impossible as Harry knew he was on the stairs. “C'mon you raggedy momma boy, aren't you going to stand up for yourself?” Roland's laughed echoed through Harry's ears. He stood and looked around, turning with the laughter. It was all around him. “Some Gryffindor you are. Where's the courage? Where's the honor? Where's the bravery?” Roland paused. “Maybe you were meant to be a Slytherin?” the question was rhetorical. “After all, you are just as slimy as any other one, aren't you?” Roland paused, as Harry's anger grew. “You were the one who was willing to sacrifice your friends for your own personal gain.” Harry stopped at that thought. It wasn't true, was it?

“That's right Harry, all of your friends suffered because of your selfish act,” Roland continued. “You even lost your godfather because of your actions. Pitiful isn't how weak a single person can be.” Harry shook his head no. it was impossible, he thought, I am not the reason why Sirius was dead? “Of course, if you just listened to your friends. Then, maybe he would still be alive, with you right now.” Shut up, shut up. “Nope, thanks to you and your stupidity, he's gone.” Harry just glared forward, trying to control the anger boiling within him. Shut up, shut up, shut up. “now you will never know happiness. You kill everything that would have ever made you happy. Your parents, Sirius. What next: Hagrid? Maybe the Weasleys? Or more specifically Ron? What about Hermione?” Harry continued with is mantra, trying to block out what Roland was saying. Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. “No, that doesn't matter any more; she doesn't care about you at all. Why she is dating your other best friend after all. Where's the love in that?” Harry fell to his knees as he tried to ignore Roland.

“there's the soft spot,” Roland said, “Hermione. You care for her so much, and she for you, but what do your best friends do? They betray you and go out behind your back. They don't love you and they certainly don't care for you. In fact, they're using you. What better why for Ronald Bilius Weasley to get his name known. What better way for Hermione Anne Granger to become famous quickly? Through the Great-Boy-Who-Lived. After all, isn't that what friends are for.”

A bright light came from Harry's arms as threw them at Roland. “Shut up, you bloody bastard,” he couldn't take it any more. No more lies. No more lies.

“No more lies, Harry?” Roland asked. “Then why do you kid yourself. You aren't capable of love. You are going to end up alone and empty for the rest of your life. The Weasleys will leave you, Ron will leave, Hermione will leave. Just like your parents. There will be no one left the poor Harry Potter.” Harry shook his head, falling to knees. It was all lies, all of it. But as much as he wanted to believe that, tears were threatened to break through the dam.

“Oh, we going to cry now,” Roland said unrelenting his rage. “You useless son of a bitch. A bastard whose father left his mother for another woman. How's that feel? To be useless to the entire world. Before you came into the world, your parents were happy.” A figure appeared form the darkness, the candle light bouncing off his back. Harry couldn't look. He just shook his head, refusing to believe anything that was said. “They were happy, and because of you, they're gone. Forever lost to heaven, a place you will never find. They had happiness, something that you will never get. And they were in love, a state which will never find you. Face it, you're useless. Sometimes, it's better to shrivel up and…” Roland stopped. The light slowly returned to the basement, with Harry kneeing in the center of it. A single light swung over their heads, acting like a pendulum before slowly just over Roland's head. The illusion of the stairs was gone, and all that remind were years and years of walls shattered around the pair.

“Harry?” Roland asked. He didn't realize what was really happening to him. Sometimes the job takes over and everything else is forgotten. But he didn't know the mental wounds ran that deep. He didn't see the walls that Harry had built until Roland had destroyed them. Now, scattered around the crying lost boy was years of pain, years of suffer, years of loneliness. And roalnd did the only thing he could think of. “Hermione,” he yelled, so his voice shook the house, “I think I broke Harry.”

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Chapter 10: Telling of Tales of Days of Future Past

By: The Dark Aeon, Chronos the Fallen, Divine Entity of the Dark Pit of ever Despair

Auhtor's note: Few, winter break is almost here, and that means peace and quiet… hopefully. Anyway, I'm working on a few different things, my dnd, my other stories. So I'm sorry this dind't get out as quickly as I wanted. I happen to like the little exchange in this chapter so enjoy it. And again, R&R.

Crimson: Happy now, this is just the beginning.

So many people hate Ron… good, join the dark Side.

Enjoy, my friends.

* * * * * * *

It had been six hours, thirty-seven minutes, and sixteen seconds since the incident, and six hours, twenty-seven minutes, and sixteen seconds since Roland had been through out of the house. Hermione unceremoniously booted him out, leaving him no chance for explanation. With that, it had been six hours, fifteen minutes since he had been trying to get drunk. Clearly, it wasn't working as Roland could still see straight despite the fifth bottle of Fire Whiskey he had just finished.

Now, he was sitting with his half empty crate of liquor on the side walk of the Granger Residence, and looking up at the darkening sky. The sun was sitting behind him, and the street lights were coming on. Staring up at the heavens, a simple thought came to his head. “I wish it would snow,” he said out loud without really thinking. As much as he hated the color white, snow and the cold were a wonderful feeling. Roland hated being warm all the time.

“I happen to like the weather here.” Roland's face sunk as he knew who it was the moment they had opened the door and walked down the driveway.

“I would have apologized sooner, but Hermione threw me out too quickly,” Roland replied. He took another deep swig of the Fire Whiskey, wondering if it was possible to get it colder, maybe Ice Whiskey perhaps. “That wasn't supposed to happen. I should have-”

“You were fine,” Harry said, taking a seat next Roland. The man's eyes never moved from the sky. “I just have a lot of problems.”

“Problems that go back pretty far, say your childhood?” Roland asked, but he knew the answer. He had helped enough abused kids to know the answer. “Its problems that you need an anchor for and I can't provide that. Hermione…”

“Stop, okay,” Harry said. “How do you know so much? I've been here for only a few days, known you for a week or two, and yet you know everything about me. How?” Roland didn't reply. He isn't ready yet. “Roland, you need to tell me these things. You talked of things that no one and I mean no one, not even Hermione, knew about. How did you know?” the man sighed, and lowered his head. Maybe it was time.

“Every time I look up, I wonder whether or not He really exists. Funny, I know the Morning Star exists.” Roland touched his chest, and felt his double heart beating beneath his rib cage. It felt weird despite having lived with it for the past five years of his life.

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying that there is a battle being fought in our very world, under your noses,” Roland looked at Harry. “Angels do exist, Harry, as do their counter parts.” There was a flash of red lightning in the background, and the light flickered about them. Roland wondered if Harry saw the very quick change to his different form.

* * * * * *

The strangest thing occurred. Red lightning cracked somewhere in the distant, but when the street-light flickered over them, Harry could have sworn that Roland had ram horns coming out of his forehead. But that was impossible. No one could have changed that quickly. “Did you just drop or raise an illusion?” Harry asked.

“Didn't think you were ready,” Roland replied. “Doesn't worry about it, when the time comes you'll understand.” The streetlight flashed on more time, and Roland was back to normal. “There are some things in life that most people aren't ready for.” The man shrugged. “As for your question about my abilities, let's just say it's for my job more so than anything else.”

Harry wasn't convinced, but held his tongue. Something was differently off with Roland; he just needed to place his finger on it. He defiantly needed to talk to Hermione. “I don't like him.” Roland took another drink from the whiskey. It looked he had been drinking for awhile, there were bottles sitting around him.

“Who?” Harry asked.

“Pride runs deep within him,” Roland continued. “As if it was him.” He chugged the rest of the whiskey.

”who, Roland,” Harry asked more forcefully. He didn't like secrets being kept him, especially after what Dumbledore did. “And don't say it doesn't concern me.”

“Ronald Bilius Weasley,” Roland replied, “Born to Mr. Arthur Weasley and Mrs. Molly Weasley on April 12^th. Youngest male of seven, second youngest in family.” Harry stared at Roland, it was impossible that he knew all that. Harry doubted that Roland was in the Order, and even if he was, it was impossible to get that kind of information.

For amount, neither of them spoke. Roland just kept on drinking, intent on finishing his liquor. Harry could have sworn that Roland said something but took it as nothing. Instead, Harry was thinking about the man sitting next to him. Roland was enigma of a new kind, who only spoke with answers to your questions, but that only left more questions. Everything seemed to go towards a plan, but where that plan began or end no one knew. Harry had a hard time talking to him, knowing that it was going to be impossible to get the answers he wanted. But it never hurt to try.

“How do you know that?” Harry asked, but didn't expect a straight answer.

“The same way you do anything else, you watch.” Roland just stared forward. “I've met his parents and from the way both of them act toward everything, especially when your name is mentioned, she is an overly loving mother, i.e. many children to give that love to. And only a man that cruel to his girlfriend could be born in April.” Harry was still processing the first part when the words cruel and girlfriend hit his eyes.

“What?” he replied. His friend wasn't cruel to his best friend; that was unfeasible.

“Pride is something Ronald lacks, so he gets it from control, which is control over his girlfriend.” Roland looked at Harry and obviously saw the confusion in him. “Just watch them, really watch them and you'll see.” Roland stood up. “I'll be back tomorrow morning. Read the books that I gave Hermione to get information on your element, Earth by the way. Ron's is fire is he asks, which I doubt. Just be ready for a work out. I'm not going to ask anymore questions about your past, unless they are becoming a problem with your fighting.” Holding his hand up, all the empty bottles flew into the crate which was on the other side of Harry. Another quick motion and the crate was in Roland's hand. “Hermione's probably worried about you. Go inside and talk with her. It's what she really wants from you.”

The street light flickered above them before going out entirely. The light from the house showed that Roland was still there, but as he walked away, he literally disappeared into the darkness. Harry stared at where he could have sworn Roland just was. A crow cawed somewhere, and flew past Harry, and in the same direction as Roland. He just stared forward, wondering what Roland meant when he said just talk to her, and the remark about pride. There were just more questions to be asked, especially, what was an element.

For a while, he sat out there, thinking about what the conversation he had just had. The silence of the night was finally broken by a hand on his shoulder. “Harry?” the soft sweet, innocent voice was one he would recognize even if he was deaf. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied. It was a lie, as everything wasn't okay, but she didn't need to know that.

“You know you can talk to me,” she asked, and a smile came on his face. He nodded, but didn't look back at her. “Okay, so if you ever and I mean ever-”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry smiled and finally looked back at her. She seemed lost and alone, standing out in the silhouette of the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. The way she swayed and moved with the wind held his childish quality, but only when they are scared or alone. Harry patted the curb next to him. “I'll take you up on that offer.” It had taken a lot of courage to say that, but Harry needed to do it.

“I'm sorry about the way he acted toward you today.” Hermione had yet to say her cousin's name since the incident, still mad at him. “He had no right-”

“He was trying to help Hermione,” Harry interrupted. It was now or never.

“I knew they were bad to you, but-”

“My first real memory of my childhood was when I was seven and out playing in the park. I was playing in the sand, by myself. This wasn't something new as the Dursleys liked to keep me away from other children. I rarely got outside at all; in fact I think that was the first time saw a tree.” Hermione gasped, her hands going to her mouth. Harry looked at her and saw that she wanted to say something, but was grateful that she didn't. It was hard enough talking about his past, without the sympathy and pity. “Anyways, the Dursleys were out on a trip. I forget what it was for, probably for Dudders or something, but it doesn't matter. Mrs. Figg was babysitting me at the time, and decided that she wanted to take me on an outing. The cloths I wore were still too big, but neither of us seemed to care.

“We went to a park near by: she sat on a bench and read a book, while I played in the sand. I had never seen it before, and Mrs. Figg had to explain what it was to me before. But once I found out what it was, I just had to play in it. She said, `you can build your own worlds and take yourself away from this one.' I took that to heart, for even then, I knew that I hated the Dursleys. So I was playing in the sand, creating a world where I was taken away from the evil place I lived.” Harry wished he could stop as he felt tears forming at his eyes. But he couldn't, he had to finish his story. Hermione had to know.

“I was there for a while, but when I looked up I noticed that Mrs. Figg was talking to Uncle Vernon. He was pretty upset, yelling about how she dare take me outside. Then this fat shadow appeared behind me. I knew who it was without looking. It was Dudley. Before I knew it, my sand-world was destroyed by his large feet. When I got home…” Harry choked in a sob, holding back his tears. He quickly wiped them away before continuing. “When I got home, I got the worst beating of my life. I never knew why, but…” Harry couldn't continue. He didn't want to think about it any more.

Hermione quickly hugged him, knowing how much pain he was it. She held him tight, trying to hold back her own tears, but wasn't successfully. Harry didn't wrap his arms around, she noticed. In fact he wasn't making a sound. Hermione pulled away slightly, and looked at her broken friend. His face was contorted and closed, his eyes squeezed shut. His mouth was frowning and barely open, taking shallow breath. Every once in a while, he sniffed, trying to hold back his tears.

Dear god, echoed through her mind. Fate had to be so cruel, even keeping a child from crying when it hurts the most. She pulled him back into the hug, holding him even tighter. The motherly side of Hermione took over as she tried to sooth the lost little boy. No one, not even Ron, knew of this side. Hermione had her fears that this had happened to him, after seeing Harry even skinnier one year when he came back to Hogwarts, but didn't think it was this bad. Hermione rubbed his back softly, moving in circling motion with her hands. She cared for him so much and it hurt her to hear about it, but knew that it hurt Harry more to live it.

After a while, Harry stopped crying, but he didn't stop telling his story. Hermione didn't let go either; in fact, she was practically in his lap without knowing. There were times when she broke into tears, time for Harry that was horrible and cruel beyond a doubt. The past of her best friend broke her heart with every word he said. And as hard as she tried, she couldn't hold back the tears. Harry finished his story and they sat there under the street lamp. His past hurt her too, knowing how kind and sweet Harry was. The tears fell harder than they have before, and it was his turn to comfort her. Finally he said, “You wondered why I broke down to day, there it is.”

“Someone who cares as much as you do should never have to go through something that like that,” Hermione replied. Harry shrugged, wishing he knew what to say. He remained silent as Hermione held him tighter.

She buried her head on Harry's shoulder. He did his best to sooth her feelings, but they were too strong. “Hey,” Harry finally pulled away. “Tears should never run do such a beautiful face. Never.” In this single moment, he had forgotten about the prophecy. Hermione was all that mattered; nothing else broke through into their world and disturbed them. It was only tow children, comforting each other on the loss of one. For one's pain was the other's, and one's sorrow was felt by the second too. Had Roland been around, he would have seen a faint white glow around them, growing with each passing moment.

It was then that Harry realized what mattered the most to him; his best friend, Hermione. He could have never shared this with Ron, but here he was with Hermione (in his lap), talking about the pain he had go through in his childhood. She was his rock, anchoring him from the battering winds of life and sheltering him from the cruelness. And it was her who his love was for.

* * * * * *

Somewhere in England, where the school was built on the blood of angels, two old men stood around a orb watching the exchange to the children. The room was lit softly by candle light and a dying fire. Books were spread out from hours of research, and two cold plates sat on the desk of the headmaster. A perch was empty as the bird who resided there had gone off hunter. A crow flew through an open window just to land on the perch. Neither men noticed, but did as a voice spoke. “My equal wouldn't like it if he found out you were spying on them.”

Neither men jumped, but the older one did look up. “I believe the term he would use is `perverts'.”

“Relax Dumbledore,” the other man said, still watching the orb.

“A friend of Roland's I presume, Steven.” The blue in Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he watched the crow get comfortable upon the perch. He walked over and stroked the bird, but frowned as it moved away from his hand.

“Guide, actually,” Steven replied. “Roland's totem spirit. Amazing amount of magic went into the creation of it, and I've yet to learn the secret.”

“I'll have you know that I've been around since the beginning of my people.” The crow flew over to the orb, landing on it. “And I believe I said stop it.” It tapped it talon against the orb and the picture faded from within. “They have their right to privacy.”

Dumbledore smiled at the totem. Though its beak didn't move, it still spoke with elegance and honor. The voice echoed through the small room. He could have sworn a flute was playing as the bird spoke. “You of all people should know Roland's belief on privacy. After all, he's punished you a few times for spying on him.” Steven turned red, and if the bird could, Dumbledore would have sworn that it was smiling.

It flew over and landed on the headmaster's shoulder. “You I wouldn't expect it from.”

“I was looking on for them,” Dumbledore replied, without an ounce of guilt in him. “I see Harry-”

“As a grandchild,” the crow said, “and right now, he sees you as the snoopy old grandfather who won't leave him alone. Every bird must be let out of the nest sometime. And every warrior must be trusted with the ways of the forest.”

“A wise old bird,” Steven added, “isn't he?”

Dumbledore looked at the bird for a moment. The crow had this ancient aura that spoke thousand of years to the old man. There was something about it that calmed everything down. “Have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?”

“I have a friend whom once took the form of a phoenix as a guardian, but that is the closest to the phoenica that I have gotten to.”

“I can't believe your serious, Albus,” Steven replied. “You're asking a bird to join.”

“He would be of use to us.” The bird shook his head; already understand what was happening around him.

“Alas, I'm already over burden of equal, who's requested that I find the totems of the Chosen. Which brings to me the reason I am here.”

“Which is.” It was obvious that Steven was disturbed by the bird's presence. While he believed in magic, he believed in more a scientific way then a spiritual look such as Roland. The crow ignored the man.

“There is turmoil within the Ethereal Plane, and many of us totems are getting to get worried. Something is going to happen that is going to disrupt the existence of the world.”

“Do you have any idea?” Dumbledore asked. The Ethereal Plane had been acting up according to some of the ghosts within the castle, but none really knew what was happening.

“Sadly, no,” the totem replied. “But it will be big.” The crow stretched its wings before taking to the air. “Take care, my friends, and I bid you good luck, I must continue my geas.”

Dumbledore watched as the crow flew back out of the window, disappearing into the moonlit night. “Amazing,” he said, to see such magic in a perfect form, even he was impressed.

“It's a simple trick,” Steven said, going back to the orb. “Damn bird, he shorted out my Eye of Seeing.”

“Probably for the better,” Dumbledore looked back out the window, “It is their life after all.” He was finally beginning to see that he couldn't force Harry to live a life that he wanted to. HIS dearest sympathy went out the boy, after all they heard everything. and although Steven didn't shed a tear, Dumbledore was threaten to. His guilt of keeping Harry there for over sixteen years hurt him and would never go away. But sometimes, it was better to work towards the future then remember the past.

-->

Chapter 11: The Reason (Day 3)

By; The Dark Aeon, Chronos the Fallen.

Author's Note: As I was writing this last part of this chapter, I was listening to The Reason by Hoobastank. This happens to be one of my favorite songs. I even did a songfic for it, but that's not the point. The point is that when I listened to the lyrics, I saw something there and needed to be said by someone. This chapter has a lot of who I am in it, along with what is happening with my life. Tennessee Williams once said that a true writer could never fully remove themselves from their works. And I saw a lot of myself in this. So what I'm asking for is no criticism on how some of the structure of this chapter is. It's chaotic, and out there at times, but I felt that it needed to be said, even if I never say it directly to the girl who it is meant for.

Now onto other business, this is the third day of Harry's stay, so Wednesday I believe. I didn't count the first day he got to the Grangers. If that's not consistent, just roll with it. The day doesn't matter so much as what happens on certain day.

Crimson: there, you happy. I wasn't planning on this but I felt that you were right. They needed to get together. Now, how I did this will add some tension but… I think it'll work.

draregerreip: You asked for some information about this world. As much as I would love to help there, sadly, the story relies on too much of that and I can't give it away without ruining some part of the story. The way I write is that everything ends with a simple point where everything falls together. Sorta like Signs.

* * * * * *

Some time in the middle of the night, Harry was awake by someone talking. “Let's go Harry, your training awaits you.” Harry mumbled for a moment before trying to go back to sleep. “You have until the count of three Harry, and then you are going down stairs, head first if you get my meaning.” Harry groaned, but got up. “Good, now get dressed, we have work to do.” The voice walked away, and Harry got up slowly, he reached for his glasses. He got dressed in the dark, listen to Ron snoring loudly. Moving as quietly as possible, Harry walked out the door and closed it behind him. Standing in the moon light was Roland.

“Come,” he said, “there is much to do with little time.” There were no sounds from him; it was as if Roland didn't exist. Harry couldn't even hear the man breathe in the dead of the night. Harry tried to follow in suit, but the floor creaked and his breathing was as loud the Hogwarts Express. Roland said nothing through and that disturbed him. After a few moments, Harry was in the kitchen with Roland. He was standing against the basement door, smiling.

“No,” Harry quickly said. He didn't want to go into basement, where Roland was capable of anything. “No.” he repeated, just for Roland.

“You need a promise or something?” Roland asked. Harry stood his ground though. “There is a rule amongst my people, Harry. A law really. Your word, your bond.” The man took a step forward toward Harry. “Sorta like a Wizard's Oath.” He held out his hand. “I promise you, by the soul that I live by, that I will do nothing like the other day nor will I hurt you immensely.” The man smiled, as if he knew something.

Harry stared at the hand for a while, unsure of what to do. “What do you have to lose?” Roland asked.

“My life,” Harry replied. The man laughed at him.

“That would fall under the category of `hurting you immensely,' Harry.” Roland remained there, waiting for a response. “You won't die Harry, not for a long time.” The certainty of his words made Harry pause. Slowly, he moved his hand out and shook Roland's. The man's hand glowed purple if only for a brief second.

“Good,” Roland said, “Come on, then, much work needs to be done.” He walked towards the basement door, and didn't even bother opening. Instead, he walked straight through the shadowed door, and into the basement. Harry prayed as he followed, hoping nothing would happen.

Harry opened the door, and found that it looked like a basic basement stairway. There was nothing out of the ordinary, and Harry could sense that there was no magic being used. It was a simple basement, nothing more. The rocks told him that. The stones of the room spoke to him some how. He didn't quite understand how it was possible, but Harry could have sworn he heard the walls whispering in some old forgotten language. “Did you hear that?” he asked, taking the steps down into the basement.

“I heard the shadows, but that's it,” Roland said. He was clearing an area in the middle of the basement. “No, what you're hearing is the language of the Earth. It has to do with your element, but most earths can't hear it at all.” Two staffs were in his hands, and Roland was leaning on them for support. “Eventually, you'll tune them out. Its only when you need to listen will you hear them.” Harry nodded, placing a hand on the stonewall. The words were louder and were still gibberish. He focused and the world got quiet again. “You're good, Harry, a quick learner.”

“I listen and watch,” he said, still looking at the wall. Harry removed his hand. “Do mutant powers have to be physical? They could just be like increase perception, right?”

“Correct,” Roland replied. The man hadn't moved from his original position, staffs to his sides, holding him up. “I know a man whose instinctual senses are ten times that of a normal man.”

“Something like that,” Harry said, “I'm talking about seeing what other don't see. You told me that yesterday, and everything's been clicking since. For example, how Hermione seems to want to cry every time she's with Ron alone and their just talking.” Harry paused. “She sat in my lap yesterday while we were talking. Do you think-”

“I try not to,” Roland smirked, and Harry turned around to see that man. “Go on.”

“That she could ever like me?” Harry looked back at the wall, tracing something upon it. It was a rune of some type, imbedded in his mind. He had no idea, but knew that it would be important.

“Tell you the truth, I was surprised she went out with Ronald,” Roland replied. “And you're not the only one who sees it. The moment I met him, I didn't like him. There was too much pride, too much envy, too much…”

“Hate?” Harry asked, though he knew the answer. He had just begun to see it, and looking back the past few days, it was obvious to him too. The littlest of things told him so much. “I don't know what to do, she seems so happy sometimes, and others…”

“It breaks your heart.” Roland looked down at the ground. He had seen it all along, apparently. Both had seen the pain in the young woman and wished to help. “You could help, you know that?”

“How,” Harry replied.

“Just tell her how you feel,” Roland smiled. “Hermione a smart girl, not as wise as you can be, but smart nonetheless. I've seen the way she acts towards you. Just watch and you'll see it too.” He shrugged. Harry was unsure of the idea. Hermione won't return his feelings. She only saw him as a friend. “Enough of personal things; let's train.” Roland threw one of the staffs at Harry. “Step into this circle,” he made a motion, showing the boundaries that he had created. “And we can begin.”

Harry walked forward, ready for anything. After his first training secession with Roland, he knew better than to be hasty. The room flashed for a moment, as he passed into the circle. Outside the boundaries, everything was darker, duller. As if it wasn't real to them. “This is a Chronoshpere, Harry. A place where time is completely up to the caster. Right now, we've speed up to the point where time is almost not moving outside this realm. When it reaches six in the morning outside…” Roland shrugged. “Truth be told I don't know, I haven't experienced being outside one of these.”

Harry just stared at Roland. “So this is meant for me to get in as much training as possible, right,” Harry asked. The man nodded. “Okay, teach then.” He readied his staff, pointed the head of it at the ground.

“Oh, I don't teach Harry,” Roland swung his staff over his head, spinning with it. “You learn.” And so it began. For a while, all Harry was doing was being defensive, protecting himself from Roland's onslaught. His body burned, he could've sworn that he was using muscles that he didn't even know existed. But he did watch, and he did learn.

Harry learned the three different styles Roland favored. It wasn't constant, but most of the time, Roland fought in one of three ways. Harry wasn't surprised to see that each of them methods complimented each other, giving Roland the edge he needed in a fight. And Harry learned each weakness as he fought. He was a stone, never moving, and always there, defending the ground he stood. The Stone wouldn't move no matter how hard the enemy struck at him.

But finally the onslaught stopped. Roland was standing before Harry, breathing hard and sweat-soaked hair sat upon his shoulders. Harry too, was tired, feeling that his shirt was now soaked through. He could barely hold the staff within his own hands. “Did good, Harry,” Roland said, “You learn quick.”

“I try,” Harry took deep breathes. Not once though, did Roland's glasses fall down. “You're fast.” Harry had never seen a man move as quickly as Roland did. It was impossible; he was as fast as a Firebolt. Harry had more bruises than he every had in his life.

“Harry,” Roland smiled, “I was barely moving.”

* * * * * *

A few more hours passed, and when it seemed like Harry had a fighting chance, Roland took it up a notch. Harry stopped seeing the staff move anymore. His eyes were too slow to catch where the staff was, but each blow was almost earth shattering. Harry's arms were filled with pain, but finally, Roland's methods were failing. Harry watched and learned enough that there was a pattern to the chaos. In the end, it was a single blow that defeated the speeding goliath.

Harry ducked before driving his staff forward. All his weight and strength went into the blow, and even though Roland tried to move with it, a loud crack echoed through the sphere. Harry backed off a step, and saw his staff sticking out of Roland's chest. He could have sworn that it was at least two feet in. “I-I'm sorry,” he stuttered, trying to get words out. Roland coughed and wheezed. The staff must have pierced a lung.

The world shattered around him, the darkness that once hung outside the Chronosphere broke like glass, falling to the ground. Roland fell to his knees, just staring forward. His empty breathes echoed in the basement. For a while, they said nothing, just looking at each other. The silence was broken by Roland. “That fuckin' hurt,” he said as he pulled the staff out of his chest. Roland fell back, he looked haggard and tired. Harry's shirt was dripping form the sweat and he was leaning on the wall. “I'm so sorry,” he repeated. “I swear I didn't-”

“Just be quiet for a moment,” Roland replied. He didn't move; his chest didn't even rise up.

“Harry?” Hermione yelled from upstairs, breaking the silence. Neither man moved; Harry was too tired to respond and Roland looked like he was dead. Someone came running down the stairs. “Oh my god, what happened down here?”

“Harry learned to fight,” Roland said, sitting up. “I've yet to me a person who beaten me yet,” He smirked. “I wasn't even warmed up.” He stood up slowly, holding his ribs. “I'll teach you how to use swords later, and you won't get so lucky.” Harry watched as Roland limped up the stares. It was impossible; no one could have survived that. He looked over where Roland was laying and saw no blood on the ground.

“That's-that's,” He stuttered. It just wasn't possible. Harry drove that staff all the way through his body, and he was walking. He continued to stutter for a while before a giggling girl interrupted him. “huh?'

“You're very cute when you stutter,” Hermione said. Something happened last night that changed their relationship, for the better in Harry's eyes. They were closer, and deep down, Harry hoped she would return his feelings.

“Hermione?” Harry asked. He had to know. After his little talk with Roland prior to the training, Harry wanted to know, but he couldn't risk that friendship he come to love and cherish. Love of a friend is one thing, but love between a man and a woman is another. So again, his fear of `what could happen' held him back from his wishes. “Never mind,” he said instead. Bracing the wall for support, Harry tried to stand up, only to fall right back down. He was more tired than he thought.

“here, let me help you,” Hermione pulled on one of his arms, while Harry grabbed the wall with the other. Slowly, he got up. Hermione held his arm as he got his balance. “What was it you wanted to tell me?”

Harry shook his head. “Something I decided I needed to figure out for myself.” He smiled at her, but was downhearted when she wasn't looking at him. Usually when ever they talk, either she would be looking at him while he talk or vice versa. But she wasn't looking at him at all. Instead, there was this sad look in her eyes. “everything okay, Hermione?”

“I thinking about breaking it off with Ron.” As much joy as that brought Harry's heart, he kept quiet and didn't say anything. “All he does is yell anymore, he never says anything nice about me, and…” there was more, but Harry wasn't going to push for it. “I don't feel anything anymore. It was nice, you know, getting those comments on how I looked. Now I think they're all for show. At least when he does compliment me.” Harry watched as a tear fell from her face, and before it landed on the ground, he had her in his arms, holding her tightly. She sobbed softly on his shoulder, releasing all her confusion and her emptiness. Harry tried to comfort her, his hands making circles on her back.

“Never doubt that you aren't beautiful, Hermione,” Harry said softly, “and never doubt that you aren't perfect. Ron just can't see it.” Hermione pulled away slightly, staying his arms. Her sweet cinnamon eyes glistened with tears which had stopped falling. They were searching for something. “I've always seen it.” He added softly. Hermione blushed bright red, and looked down. She pulled him closer.

“There was another reason, Harry,” she continued.

“Hmm?” he replied. They just stood there, holding each other.

“Aren't you wondering what it is?” Harry smiled. The childish banter was always fun, especially with Hermione.

“Sure, why not?” Harry replied, earning a smile from her. She never looked more beautiful in his eyes. She was perfect.

Hermione leaned in close, standing on her toes to get her mouth right next to his ear. “It was you, Harry.” Pushing herself away from Harry, Hermione darted up the stairs and a few seconds later Harry heard a door slamming.

Harry didn't move. In fact, he thought that he had stopped breathing all together. Those simple words touched Harry's heart deeper than he could ever dream. It wasn't possible; Hermione could like him like that. That would mean Harry was capable of achieving happiness. Was it actually probable for him to even think such a thing could happen? In all of Harry's dreams, he never thought of it happening this way. He was a coward, unable to tell her how he felt. Some Gryffindor he was. But Hermione, he smiled, she held more courage than he would in a thousand lifetimes.

Now all that was left was for him to tell her that he returned her feelings. At least that was what Harry hoped she meant by her statement. Fear drove into his heart faster than the joy that came moments before. What if she didn't like him at all, only as a friend? He couldn't move at that thought, instead he prayed that she would at least like him as he like her. Harry was still uncomfortable at saying he was in love as he knew nothing of it. But he couldn't allow her to get hurt. No, the only thing he could think of was to push her away. It sent a pain to his heart, but Harry knew it was the right thing to do. Hermione would be better off with Ron.

“You know, breathing would be useful, Harry,” Roland said.

Harry released a breath. He took a few deep breathes before looking at the stair case. Roland was sitting on the bottom step, drinking from a paper bag. Harry could smile the fire whiskey from where he was standing. “Drinking again,” he asked.

“That hurts, Harry,” Roland said, “I'm always drinking.” He was probably smirking, but didn't look at Harry. He placed the bag within his coat, but kept his eyes forward.

“Most people would consider that a problem,” Harry continued. Roland turned around and looked at him. “But then again, you clearly aren't most people.”

“For the past three months, I've been trying to get as hammered as possible, Harry. My life was in shambles. She had a hard time sleeping and being with other people.” The room grew darker as he talked. Harry took a step toward Roland, toward the stairway. “It was then; I knew what I had to do. I haven't seen her in three months.” He shrugged and stood up. “Sometimes, we have to hurt ourselves to save the ones we love the most Harry. But never should we hurt the ones we love to save them. Never.” He glared at Harry with his hollow eyes.

He knew, was all Harry could think. Roland knew everything that Harry was thinking. He probably even knew the prophecy. “What are you talking about?”

“I said this to Ron, Harry, but I doubted I would ever have to say it to you. Guess I was wrong,” Roland held a vice grip on the railing. “Don't you ever, and I mean ever, hurt her, I will hunt you down and make you suffer. And that is a promise.” The railing broke under Roland's grip; splintering and falling to the ground. “It has taken much courage, Harry, to get this far. She can't do the rest by herself. A coward runs from his feelings. Don't ruin this for the both of you.” Both of them didn't move, staring at each other. Harry had no idea how he knew, but somehow Roland knew.

Finally, Harry broke the silence. His glare didn't lesson though. “How did you find out, Dumbledore told you?” he asked anger evident in his voice. He was hunched over a bit, and his fists were shaking.

“I'm sure Dumbledore knew, but he also knew better that to get involved,” Roland said. “Besides, why would he care about your love life?” Harry stood up straight.

“What are you talking about?” Harry replied. “I want to know how you know about the Prophecy?”

“Which one, Harry, and about who?” Roland stared at him. “You have to understand there are more people out there than you. The world doesn't revolve around The Boy-Who-Lived despite what ever may have been driven into your mind. No, it revolves around balance. And your Prophecy is simply a way to bring that balance back.” He walked away. “No, the world revolves around Love for that is the ultimate balance. Find it and cherish it. But never let go and never push it away.” His words echoed in the now empty basement. Harry couldn't, wouldn't put Hermione at risk for liking him. She would eventually understand; Harry knew she would. Even Roland's story made sense; after all, he hurt someone to help them. The man was being hypocritical.

Harry slumped down against the wall, thinking of what Roland had said. He talked of his girlfriend. There had to be something that had happened that caused him to leave and take up drinking. Harry figured it was a death or something. But his reference about his past hit closer to home than Harry would have thought. But never should we hurt the ones we love to save them. Roland went into some speech about how he should never hurt Hermione. Why would he do that? Harry cared for Hermione with all his soul and heart. Finally, Roland's words sunk in. She can't do the rest by herself... Don't ruin this for the both of you. Harry knew how much Hermione cared for him, but this was the first time he had ever heard that it was something more.

He decided that he needed to get moving for the day. Harry hoped that his thoughts of Hermione would go away after a while, or better yet, bring some clarity. Neither happened.

* * * * * *

The sun had set about three hours ago. And Harry was no closer to sleep than before. Some time during the day, when the Grangers and Roland were out, Ron brought out a book of his. As surprised as Harry was to see Ron reading, the topic wasn't. It was another book about Quidditch, something even Harry could understand was important. He didn't ask how or why Ron had the book, thinking that it was better to not know and potentially get his friend in trouble.

But Harry felt that something was wrong as Ron opened the book. A simple shift in something, but it was there nonetheless. The house seemed less safe some how, and even though Harry couldn't put his finger on it, he knew that something big was going to happen.

But now was not the time for that. No, Harry's mind was too preoccupied by thoughts of Hermione. Beautiful Hermione, Smart Hermione, Perfect Hermione. They had yet to talk to each other about what happened in the morning, and Harry had lost resolve to push Hermione away. He thought all day of what his life could have been if she wasn't' in it. Some of the past and futures were unpleasant to think about. She had been there all along, by his side through thick and thin. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her and she for him.

That night at the ministry was horrible for Harry for two reasons. He lost Sirius and nearly lost Hermione. His grief hadn't healed yet from Sirius' death, but Harry knew that in his heart of hearts that someday it would. If he lost Hermione, there was nothing worth living for. So there he sat, thinking of what path he was going take. His road had been rough and bumpy, with many losses and dreadful ends. But all along Hermione was there, and that was the reason Harry was still alive. He couldn't live with her, Voldemort would hurt her and he couldn't have that. But Harry couldn't like without her either. The world was darker, nothing tasted right, and smells were less vibrant, everything was duller without her.

A grandfather clock rang eleven, but Harry hadn't moved for over an hour. He had been lost in thought, his mind constantly on Hermione. He stared at the moon in the cloudy sky, and hoped to hear the sounds of the animals. They were beginning to comfort him. And it was then, he knew what he must do. But that didn't stop him from jumping when a soft hand touched his shoulder. Harry knew who it was right away. “hey,” he said, staring forward out into the field.

“Hey,” she replied. “Are you-” she wanted to say something but was clearly upset by the thought of it.

“No, I'm not,” Harry said. “You've done nothing wrong.” He patted the brick porch next to him. She sat down close to him, but didn't touch him. Harry finally pulled his eyes away from the field and looked at his best friend. Her feet were pulled up underneath her nightgown. She stared forward like he was, refusing to make eye contact.

“Have you thought about what I said?” she asked, so unsure of what could come. Her voice shook a bit, but courage was holding her body steady. “Cause if you don't-” Harry placed his hand over her mouth, and smiled at her.

“Hermione, I've been thinking lately,” Harry started. He hoped that she understood that he wanted to talk.

“I hope you didn't hurt yourself,” she quickly said with a smile. Harry laughed a bit, his smile growing bigger. An evening wind blew across the yard, and Hermione shivered.

“Thanks,” he scooted closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Hermione immediately rested her head upon his shoulder. “No, I didn't hurt myself. As I was saying, I've been thinking lately, about us and my life. When we went to the Ministry…” Thoughts of Sirius entered his head as he talked and how foolish he was when he didn't listen to her in the first place.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione quickly wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. Her head was buried in his chest. She clearly figured out what he was thinking of what happened. “It's not your fault.”

He couldn't help but to chuckle when she said that. But he made no move to remove himself from her arms. “Another talk another time. No, I thought of you.” She looked up at him. “I thought of how you got hit by that curse and I thought of how much it hurt me. And I thought of how you alone affected that fight. If Neville didn't tell me that you were alive…” he trailed off trying to find his words. “I doubt that there would have been much of a Ministry to rebuild. I know that I would have at least killed Voldemort for causing your death and then torture Dolohov for daring to do that to you. That is if I didn't die of grief.” Harry just stared forward, though he pulled Hermione closer, holding her tight. “You mean so much to me, Hermione and I just can't see my life without you.” He knew that sounded like a proposal, but hoped Hermione took it the right why.

“I've never been good with my feelings, what with living with the Dursleys. And I certainly can't say what love is. I never knew my parents, and my relationship with girls hasn't been the greatest, what with the Human water Fountain.” Hermione laughed at his small joke, she knew how hard his date with Cho was for him. “But I do know that seeing you happy makes me happy. And seeing you brighten my day. You mean so much to me, and I can't stand to lose you.”

“So, do you like me?” Hermione asked, meek and small. She looked up with lost eyes, searching for his answer. And the smile on his face told it all.

“I'm not a perfect person, Hermione,” Harry continued. “And I know I'll never be. I may have said or done some things that may have hurt you. But I continue learning,” Hermione wanted to speak, but held her tongue. She seemed to know that Harry needed to say what he was saying. And that she needed to hear it. Harry stared forward, looking at the rising moon, praying that he made the right choice. “And I'm sorry that I hurt you. It's something I must live with every day. And all the pain I put you through, I wish I could take it all away. And be the one who catches all your tears. That why I need to hear.” He began to cry at some point, but that didn't stop him from doing what his heart told him to do. “I love you, Hermione.” He reached down and gently touched her lips with his. They were as soft as he dreamed they were. He prayed that she wouldn't pull away, but in his heart of hearts, he knew, like her, that they were meant for each other. And whether or not they knew, it was deep within their souls, glowing around them with each word, each touch, each love.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, begging for more. Harry gave it to her readily. He loved her, and he knew that she loved him. She leaned into him, and Harry held her tighter, kissing her with every ounce of his being, showing her his love. It was a few minutes before they released each other, gasping for air. Harry smiled, and knew that everything, in the end, would be alright as long as his love was there for him.

-->

Chapter 12: The Tenth Hour

Author's Note: the title of this chapter bears into certain amount of metaphor, those being that numbers being important. The number thirteen is a number of rejuvenation, rebirth. Eleven is a number of judgment, twelve of destruction. Six of the devil. Most of these are archetypal and date back to the bible. Seven is a significant number as well. Just take that into mind. Besides, I like using time as a metaphor.

The section where Harry goes to the Blessed Fields is actually from The Book of Exalted Deeds by Wizards of the Coast.

hijlpotter: Roland's story is told behind Harry's for everything revolves around him. In his chapter we will see a small glimpse into the man we call Roland Demoas.

No88Zero: The next chapter it will fully be revealed, but I do have a hint, it is similar to his father's.

* * * * * *

They talked for about an hour before Hermione yawned. She had broken up with Ron earlier that day, which was part of the reason why she was avoiding Harry. But she seemed to want to keep their own relationship a secret until Ron could accept it with out getting too mad. She didn't want do it that way, but felt that Ron needed time to recover from their relationship. However, she also wanted to be with Harry as soon as possible.

He made her complete. With Ron, half the time was awkwardness, neither knowing what to do. With Harry, despite his own inexperience, he loved her. That was more than what could be said with Ron. At first, Hermione thought that it was just a phase that Ron was going through, bossing her around, and grabbing her arm so tightly. But after the third time it happened, she knew that their relationship wouldn't last. Something had made her give in, allowing him to order her. Her pride was gone, as was her own will. That was, until Harry began to talk to her.

The night before was something special for her. It was when Harry pulled her into his lap that she realized there was something different about their relationship. She began to see him in a whole new light. Even before then, she thought that there was something going on. But his confession made her want to make one of her own. Hermione had been seeing Harry no longer as the little lost boy she met on the train. Nor was he The Boy Who Lived, who Ron constantly felt that he had to live up to.

No, to her, Harry was `just Harry', a boy who had finally began to grow into his body. He was still skinny, but holding him like she did the night before showed him that he had many muscles. But his heart held so much more that she thought his body would contain. It was there that Hermione found strength, and there she found love. She held him close during that hour they talked, and listened to his heartbeat. He was strong and so was it, beating steadily for her. Harry was never the best at words, but his simple complements were what touched her the most.

She was now up in her room, sitting against the wall with her legs pulled close to her. Hermione didn't know how long, but she was writing in her journal. It had been so long since she had written in it. It was just after she had gotten out of the hospital actually. Her thoughts were too confused for her to write anything of importance and even though there was this small scrawl about her going out of Ron, it had been nothing like this. She had already filled two pages and was in the middle of her third. There was just so much that she wanted to talk about, wanted to let herself know. While there may have been doubts in her mind about their relationship later on in life, Harry had no doubts about it now, she thought. He's in love with me and that's all that matters.

A door was slammed shut down stairs, and Hermione looked up from her journal. She knew it was Roland, as a thief wouldn't be stupid enough to slam a door if he was coming into the house. No, she figured he had a bad day. Moving silently, she got out of her bed to go talk with him. Hermione wanted to ask him about something. He had always been there for her, and now, she thought he might need to be there for him.

She grabbed her robe before silently moving through the halls down the stairs. When she was younger, she used to sneak down to find her books that she would leave when she had to go to sleep. Hermione knew the hallways like the back of her hand. She heard a table wobble as her right knee hit it. “Ow,” almost escaped from her lips, but she kept them closed.

“Hermione?” a church whisper came from downstairs. It sounded like Roland's voice. Quickly, some one crossed the floor to the bottom of the stairs. “What you doing up?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” she said, coming down. “But I know you were working.” Hermione stopped a few steps up, so she could look into Roland's eyes. “Harry told me what you said.”

“At which point,” he asked, and turned away.

“About why you're here.” Crossing her arms, Hermione glared at him. To think that coming here was just an escape. He probably didn't even care about them, no; he just needed to get away. She wasn't surprised that he didn't answer. “Is it true you left just to find yourself?”

“No, I left so she could find herself,” Roland said, looking back at her. Even in the dim light, Hermione could see the pain on his face. “I left so she wouldn't depend on me so much. I left because she needed to take care of herself. I left…” he trailed off, but Hermione figured out the rest.

“What happened? Harry spoke of how you told him we sometimes have to hurt ourselves to help the ones we love-”

“And never hurt the ones we love in order to save them,” He added. “Something like that.” Roland turned away and walking into the kitchen.

“You should talk about it,” Hermione said.

“I don't want to,” Roland quickly replied. He was no longer taking effort to keep his voice down. “It's just something are better left silent.”

“You said it yourself,” Hermione followed him in, “that what hurts the heart the most should be discussed. Now talk.” She crossed her arms again, making a stand within the kitchen.

“With all the advances as a society, both Muggle and Wizard, you'd think we'd get past petty things like prejudice,” Roland took a seat at the table, then kicked a chair away slightly for Hermione. “Possibly a woman's greatest fear is getting rape.” Hermione gasped. “It is the worst crime known to man, as anyone can commit it, for it destroys the soul.”

“A woman can't commit rape,” Hermione quickly added, but looked down.

“Sadomy can be rape, Date Rape can be committed by a female,” Roland looked across the table. “Need I go on?” she shook her head. “Good.” He pulled a bag out from his coat, along with a small glass. Immediately he poured himself a drink and then downed it. Harry told her how Roland was drinking a lot, she almost told him that her parents didn't allow alcohol in the house, but stopped. He must be pretty upset about something to resort to drinking.

“Rape is rape, no matter what gender, age, whatever. That is what I support a clinic just for that. Where woman and men could go to talk to about it.”

“That's not what's bothering you,” Hermione replied.

“No, it's not.” Roland cousin pour himself another drink but didn't move it. Instead he just stared at it. “I take it you've never known someone whose been raped.” She gasped and shook her head. “She was raped for six months. And I was helpless to stop it, even with all my power.” Roland stared at the glass, spinning it within his hand. “There are Demons out there, Hermione, and I'm not talking about those who come from the Seven Hells. No, the Demons I'm talking about are willing to torture an eighteen-year-old girl's soul to near destruction, and well as her body. These Demons are willing to take little children and kill their future. These Demons are the worst I know, they're Humans.” The shot glass shattered as Roland squeezed it.

“These are the people I fight every night. My brethren may go against The Morning Star's spawn but I feel that this is the worst of the two. Those who willingly commit these acts against its own race. These creatures aren't worthy of their lives that The Great Spirit has blessed them with.” Roland shook his hand, trying to get the liquid off of it. He didn't say anything, instead just stared forward.

For a while, Hermione didn't say anything, in fear of what Roland would say back. Instead, she thought of what he said. He talked as if demons truly existed, and not just the ones hated the most. No, real live Spawn of Satan. That was impossible, demons were a myth, like their counterpart. But Hermione's thoughts were interrupted. “She had the most beautiful wings I've ever seen,” Roland said out of nowhere. He was staring at another shot glass, or his old one, just reformed. He seemed lost and vacant as he reminisced. There was this empty smile, just hanging there as he thought of this girl. “We'd used to joke about how much time she took to keep them so clean and perfect. About how much love went into them. And it seems in six months just destroy that perfect, that beauty.

“I found her, in the dark,” he sniffled, and wiped a tear from his eye. “And she was alone, huddled in the corner. Her entire being cried out `no' for the light meant the men had returned, but once I stepped into the darkness, she knew. And that's when I knew. I knew everything that those cursed beasts did to her.” he growled, and broke his glass again. “Her wings were gone, nothing but stubs left. They left them there, just to torture her some more.” Another glass broke somewhere, and Hermione jumped. There was something odd about her cousin, something that had changed in the past few minutes. His skin seemed to meld with the darkness, and it looked like there were two little horns growing on his forehead. Roland glasses had fallen off his face, and Hermione saw possible the scariest thing in the world: two glowing red orbs in pools of darkness. “I took pleasure in their screams, just to know that I could cause just as much pain as they did to her.”

“R-R-Roland,” she stammered, scared out of her mind, she'd never seen this side of her cousin. She felt this aura around him, something like when they'd face the Death Eaters. “D-did you rape…” Hermione trailed off, unable to continue. She couldn't think of the answer, didn't want to think that he was willing to stoop to something he considered so low.

“No, but they burned,” he grinned a toothy grin. A pointy, toothy grin. “They burned good.”

* * * * * *

Hermione woke with a start. She had the most horrible dream. This demon-like creature was sitting at a grill, burning two men alive. And of some girl, screaming as her wings were cut off from her with a dull blade. Hermione had no idea where that came from, especially after the wonderful night she had had with Harry. A smile crept upon her face as she thought of him. Being around Ron now that they broke it off was going to be tough, but to not be with Harry would be impossible.

Quickly getting out of her bed, Hermione stepped on her journal. Funny, she thought she forgot that she even touched it lately. It had been a while since she had written anything in it. Hermione opened it, and remembered that she did touch it, writing a lengthy entry on the night before. Her smile grew larger and she blushed as she remembered when he kissed her. An alarm went off, reminding her to get up. She hit the off button, but sat back down, holding the journal close. Hermione wanted that memory of her first good kiss to stay in her mind forever. She closed her eyes and remembered the night before. The memory just played over and over again in her mind, and she hated whoever knocked at her door, especially at this time. Roland would know better, and Ron wouldn't even be up yet.

Grabbing a robe, she quickly placed it before opening the door with a scowl. It quickly disappeared when she saw that it was Harry. Rather, a smile took its place. She immediately jumped into his arms, and hugged him. Hermione wanted to do more, but didn't want to rush Harry or this relationship. More importantly, thought, Hermione didn't want to rush herself. Harry and her relationship with him were too important to her. And as much as she wanted to be with him, she wanted to take it slow, so that Harry wouldn't think he was a rebound, which he wasn't.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said into her hair. Hermione pulled them into her room, and closed the door. Harry didn't move from his position at all, he just stood there, holding her and petting her hair. Hermione felt like she was going to melt from his touch. She had never felt this way before, unless she counted when her feelings for Harry developed in her fourth year.

It was after their adventure with Buckbeak that Hermione thought she might have felt something for Harry. She simple took it as a teenage crush, but somewhere along the year she felt it change into something more. Unable to place a name on it, Hermione just pushed it aside. But at the second challenge, she was hurt when she wasn't chosen for him and Ron was. It was then she realized that the feelings were something more. She immediately rushed to his side, forgetting about Ron. Her feelings for Harry were just developing.

When Hermione got her prefect badge, she was so excited. It only seemed right that Harry would become a prefect as well. But her heart sunk when she found out that Ron made it instead of Harry. She had figured he had had a crush on her for a long time. And although Hermione didn't see herself with Ron at that time, Harry seemed distracted at the time. This distraction only grew in the year, as he was often off with Snape working on Occulmency while she was with Ron doing prefect work. This distance only grew as Harry pushed them away. And as much as she wanted to be with him, from his actions, Hermione felt that he didn't want to be with her. So she turned to Ron.

Hermione knew that it was just a crush, but hoped that she would grow into being in love with Ron. Somehow that never happened. Even when he asked her out and they dated for basically a month, she never loved him. To her, Ron would always be her older brother. But those feelings for Harry never disappeared and when he returned them, her heart almost fluttered through her throat. Hermione pulled away from Harry and smiled, looking into his emerald eyes. “What you thinking about?” he asked, looking at her.

“Us,” she replied, and smiled, “and how we got here.” Harry reached down and kissed her softly on her lips. She nearly melted against him, and apparently Harry felt it. His hands held her waist closer to him, allowing her to rest against him.

“I was thinking about that too,” he returned the smile. “Do you think-”

Hermione placed a finger on his lips. “I know what you are going to say, and no, I've never doubt that I would be with you.” She cocked her head a bit and searched his eyes for answer. “How bout you?”

“Tell you the truth,” Harry replied, “I didn't see us together like this until this summer.” There was something about the way he worded it that made her feel sad and joyful at the same time. “But now, you take up most of my thoughts.” This brought a smile back to her face. He may have not thought about being with her before, but now he didn't want to part. She wanted to stay in his arms and just be with him forever.

Hermione was surprised to find herself losing all of her logic and intelligence when she was with Harry. She always prided herself on being smart and responsible. Now, her deprived little thoughts were going to drive her crazy. Hermione leaned on his chest, and smile at some little daydreams she had forgotten a long time ago. “Hermione?” he asked.

“Hmm?” she responded, but didn't move.

“We're going out, you need to get dressed.” She pulled away. They were going out.

“Harry, there's no store open at six,” she replied, looking at his eyes.

“You over slept,” he smiled at her, and was surprised to see her eyes widen. “It's nine, didn't you know?” Hermione rushed over to her clock. It read nine, but that was impossible, Hermione always had her clock set for six.

“That's odd,” she said, taking a seat on her bed. Her eyes didn't move from the alarm clock. “I didn't-”

“Everything okay?” Harry asked. He was about to crouch down, but stopped and stood straight up, blushing. Hermione was confused, but then realized that her robe had opened, showing a bit of herself. She quickly pulled her robe tightly around her body, her face reddening at the thought of Harry seeing her exposed.

“Sorry,” she looked away. Even as comfortable as she was with Harry, she just unable to give herself fully to any man yet. Someday, though, she knew she was going to be ready and hoped that it was with Harry. “And no, I'm fine,” She stood and gave Harry a quick chaste kiss, “now go so I can get showered and dressed.” Harry smirked at her, and hugged her one more time before leaving her. Like the gentleman he was, he closed the door behind him.

Hermione sighed, and walked over to her dresser and grabbed clothing for the day. She felt that she was on top of the world, and nothing could go wrong.

* * * * * *

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were taking Harry, Hermione and Ron out shopping. It was Hermione who suggested it, as they needed to pick up some things for Harry's Birthday. He had forgotten that it was coming up, too engross with what was going on in his life. Ron seemed too calm, especially after breaking up with Hermione. He had this smile upon his face that seemed fake to Harry. There was just something wrong about the way his friend was acting.

But Harry put that thought aside when they arrived at the mall. He had only seen a place like this when he went shopping with Roland, but this some how seemed better. Harry couldn't put his finger on it, but deep down, this was certainly better. A simple glance over at a smiling Hermione told him why. There was nothing that could go wrong.

* * * * * *

Everything was going wrong, Hermione thought. Her father offered to take Harry around, so that they could figure out what to get him. her mother decided to stay with Ron and Hermione, who thankfully helped with some of the awkward silence. Ron glared at her from time to time, but he held this smile upon his face that Hermione was sure was real. Clearly, God couldn't be nice to her for one day though.

Her mum had to go, saying that she needed to get the house ready for the party tomorrow. I hope you two can take care of yourselves? Her mother asked. And of course, Ron replied for them, saying everything was all right. They had paid for Harry's gifts, curtsy of Roland and his charge card. Her mother took them home with her, leaving Hermione and Ron alone. And apparently, Ron felt that gave him control over her life again. He pulled her every which way, directing where they were going. He even told her that she couldn't spend any of the money, despite him buying himself some new cloths. She almost told him off, but something held her back. There was this nagging presence that prevented her from doing anything she wanted to do in his presence. And the most she was there, the more Hermione felt that maybe she made the wrong choice.

No, you didn't, she constantly reminded herself. You and Harry will be perfect. Hermione told herself over and over again, trying to keep that in mind. She didn't look at Ron's eyes any more; trying to prevent whatever hold he had on her from taking over again. He made her feel like less of a person, as if she wasn't good enough for any body. It was the strangest feeling, and Hermione figured that she was just hearing things.

After an hour passed by, they ran into Roland and Harry. The two of them were talking about something serious, by the look on Roland's face. There was usually a smile on it, but today it held sadness. Hermione could have sworn that she had seen that look before. But those strange feelings she had when she was with Ron disappeared the moment she saw Harry's eyes. They looked at her and only her. And it made Hermione's heart flutter even more than just seeing him.

“Hey, Ron, Hermione,” Roland said, he was holding a few bags, and using a cane on the other. “Come on, Aunt Mary asked us to be back before ten.”

“What time is it?” Ron asked. He reached over for Hermione hand, but remembered that he wasn't dating her. He withdrew it slowly, as if he was mad at something. Hermione looked at him as he glared at Harry. Maybe he knows, she asked herself. How could that happen? She and Harry just got together the night before.

“Almost nine or so,” Harry replied. “Shouldn't take more than an hour, right?” he looked at Roland who nodded. He seemed concerned.

“I've parked this way,” Roland pointed behind them, “So come on.” Harry waited for Hermione. Ron pushed past him, practically shoving Harry's shoulder.

“What's that about?” Harry asked softly, as he watched Ron walk away.

Hermione shrugged. There was no way that he could have known. She wasn't even sure that she had a chance with Harry so how could Ron know. She started to walk forward, but paused. “Wait, isn't Roland blind?”

Harry chuckled and grabbed her hand, pulling her along. He didn't want to fall behind, but also wanted to be closer to her. “Hermione, all the time he's been at your house, have you ever seen him run into anything?” He asked. She shook her head. “He's a mutant, remember?”

That made her pause a gain. Her cousin was a mutant. Hermione never even thought of that possibility. It just didn't seem rational, but then, thinking back, Hermione saw little signs that made it obvious, the biggest being his association of the X-men. Her entire belief of mutants was destroyed. “You didn't know?” Harry asked. She shook her head. “I'm sorry, I didn't-”

“It's okay,” Hermione said; they started walking again. Roland and Ron seemed farther ahead then before. “It's not you are a mutant.” This time Harry stopped. “Harry, what's wrong?”

“I think I might be,” he said softly, not looking at her. This blew away all her preconceptions about mutants, now that she was in love with one. Looking back, she realized how she was being a bigot. And that brought tears to her eyes. She was acting just like Malfoy, making herself feel bigger than everyone else by insulting them. Hermione was no better than him. “Mione,” Harry said, wrapping her in his arms. Here she was, crying in the middle of the mall. She felt like such a child. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry,” she replied, wiping some of her tears. Her makeup was running a bit; no one could have told if they weren't close up those, save Harry, who noticed everything about her. “I was being stupid.”

“I doubt you could ever be stupid,” he said with a laugh. His complete and utter faith in her made her cry even more. How could even hate someone as great as Harry? “Hermione, please tell me what's wrong? Was it something I said?” She nodded, but held onto Harry tighter. He held her close, but didn't say anything for a while. “Are you upset because I might be a mutant?” she shook her head, but pulled away slightly.

“Hey, what's the hold up,” Ron yelled to them. They were only a few yards away, but the mall was loud and crowded, even at this hour. “ Turn off the water works and let's go.” Roland smacked him upside the head. But neither Harry, nor Hermione noticed.

“I was listening to the radio one day, and they had some thing about mutants. And I of course, open my big mouth and say something racist.” She sniffled at the thought, pulling away, just enough to wipe a tear away. “I feel so bad, looking back, I was acting like Malfoy, making myself bigger by putting someone down.” Harry looked into her eyes.

“Hermione,” he said softly, wiping some of her tears away. “You have the biggest heart I know, never think you are like Malfoy.” Hermione tried to say something, but Harry placed a finger over her lips. “Never.” She smiled shyly, and Harry gladly returned.

“Thanks,” Hermione said softly. She could've stayed there for the rest of her life. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Time for that later,” Roland, said. “We need to get going now.” He empathized `now,' giving Harry a look. Her best friend nodded, before pulled away from Hermione. Harry immediately picked up her hand as they walked toward Ron. He glared at them before turning around and walking away. “He just needs time.”

“He knows?” Harry asked.

“Of course he knows; he isn't blind. And I told him,” Roland said, they both made to stop. “You can talk and walk at the same time, can't you?” he pulled them along. “He has a right to know why Hermione broke up with him.”

“How do you know?” Hermione asked.

“Come on,” Roland said, “I've known since I first saw you two together that you were meant to be. And I talked with Harry about it.” Hermione glared at Harry, and again, Roland prevented them from stopping. “Didn't I say we have to go? Don't make me apparate all of us out of here.”

Until they left the mall, no one said anything. Roland was probably thinking about something. Ron glared at Harry and Hermione; probably mad at them wanting to go out. But the couple was lost in their comfortable silence, not needing to say anything to express their love for each other. They stood in peace, waiting for Roland to pull up. It was Ron who broke the silence. “When were you going to tell me?” He asked.

“When we felt you were ready?” Harry replied. He noticed the fire burning in his friend's eyes. Hermione took a step behind him.

“So you were just going to kept it from me?” Ron continued.

“We were afraid this was how you were going to act,” Harry said. “Something like this.” He held an arm out, symbolizing their actions now. “We also wanted you to be over Hermione.”

“So, you just had to steal her from me?” Ron asked. His brown eyes burned with hatred. Harry didn't answer the question as Roland pulled up. Ron got into the front seat; Hermione squeezed Harry's hand before climbing over in the back. He just knew it was going to be a long ride.

Time passed slowly as they rode back to the Grangers. Harry held Hermione's hand the entire time. At some point, though, she grew tired and moved over next to him. Her head was lying upon his shoulder, his arm around her, and neither with a care in the world. Harry knew that Ron was talking with Roland about something, they talked of an amulet that Ron had but he didn't catch the rest. Some relaxing Celtic music was playing in the background as Harry fell into a sleep.

* * * * * *

When Harry opened his eyes, he found himself in a luscious field that covered the land as far as the eye could see. The sun burned in the sky above them, and Harry could smell the plant life around him. The flowers were unearthly and heavenly, adding more to this picturesque scene. It was home. A bear-sized dog came running up to him, and tackled Harry. If it was black, Harry could've sworn that it was Sirius.

The dog ran off, leaving Harry alone in the field. The sky was clear, holding little clouds save wisps high up in the atmosphere. Nothing could touch him, Harry felt. It was perfect, the way he dreamed heaven… would be…

He didn't just die, did he? No, he couldn't have. Voldemort wasn't near by, and he could only die by the Dark Lord's hand. “So where am I,” he asked to no one.

“Oh,” a large voice said, “we have a new comer.” Harry turned around to see a large lion-like creature. It was walking up on two legs, and was wearing this regal looking robe. The beast was at least as tall as Hagrid, maybe taller. At the moment, it was crouching down, tending to some of the flowers. The voice held some masculine qualities, and Harry could only assume that the creature was male as well. His mane was pulled back in a ponytail. “And what is your name?”

“Harry,” he replied without hesitation. Harry felt that he had nothing to fear from this man. “Are you going to answer my question?”

The lion smile, if that was possible. He stood and walked over to Harry. “This place has held many names, but the most common being the Blessed Fields.” So Harry really did die. “And you no, you aren't dead. In fact, just look at yourself and you'll see.” Harry looked down, and it was obvious to him. He was transparent. The lion laughed at Harry as he jumped back at the sight of himself. “Come, there is much we must talk about.” The beast placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, guiding him along. “My name is Talisad, and I am the leader of the Companions. Upon this plane and four others, we guard it and its inhabitants against poachers, blighters of the lands, and the like. This is a haven for those who admire nature, those of pure of heart, those who carry love in it.”

“Roland mentioned this place once,” Harry remembered.

”One of our dearest pupils,” Talisad said. “Though I fear his methods will consume him.” The lion held a sad look upon its face, if that was possible. “his blood burns with his father's crimes, Harry. And for that, I fear he will suffer.”

“Is he important to the world,” Harry asked. It was interesting not to be the center point of everything for once.

“Not as important as you will be,” he replied, smiling at Harry. Of course, that happy moment had to end so soon. “no, his time will come, and yours shall begin.” Talisad paused and looked down. “And of course you'll have your beloved by your side.” His smile grew bigger.

”Hermione?” Harry asked, and a smile grew upon his own face as the lion nodded.

“The Heavens and the Court of Stars rarely agree on anything, but they do on that.” The beast continued walking, leading Harry to some other field. “But I did not bring you here so we can talk of your love life. No, there are other matters that must take precedence.”

“What's going on?” Harry asked.

“When your mother died, this is the place she chose to come,” Talisad began. “She enjoyed her garden as well as the air and we, along with the Heavens and the Court, felt that this is where she belonged.” Harry didn't know his mother could fly, but the fact that Talisad didn't speak of his father made him worry. James Potter may have done some bad things, but wasn't a bad person, so to speak.

“What of my father?” Harry asked. His voice shook a bit, the fear for his father evident.

“He's alive and well, Harry.” When Talisad said this, Harry stopped. His father was alive? But he was hit by the killing curse.

“Do you know where he is?” Harry asked.

”Sadly, we can not directly interfere with humans' lives,” Talisad replied. “This will all be a dream til the time is right.” There was such a regal air about him that prevented Harry from arguing. “Do you understand?” He nodded. “Shh, watch. This here is the beautiful of the Blessed Fields.”

They paused just a few meters from the field, giving them perfect sight of it. Harry watched as the flowers swayed with the wind. For a moment, they looked real as they moved. But a petal moved by itself, against the wind. Harry watched as it did it again, and suddenly the entire field was in the air. “Butterflies,” Harry said, smiling. He had never seen such a sight before. The beautiful insects flew toward Harry and Talisad, forming a circle around them. Just to see nature in such rawness made Harry's heart flew. The way the butterflies flew around him made Harry remember his first yes and the flying keys. Though an unpleasant memory, he was proud he was able to save his friend. Moments like these made Harry wish that he could flew with the insects,

Slowly, the butterflies flew away, leaving Harry and Talisad alone again. Harry felt comfortable with the beast. This was a form of heaven he gathered, and here he was safe, even for a moment. “It is moments like that that make the world worth it,” Talisad said, “Don't you agree, Harry?”

“When I was a school, I used to enjoy flying. I felt so free and away from the world.” The lion laughed from his stomach, it sounded like Hagrid's laugh. “I used to wish I could do it any time I wanted.”

“You sound like Saphia,” Talisaod replied. “She loves to fly too. I see where you get it from. Your mother enjoyed the skies as much as she enjoyed the gardens she planted. This was one of them in fact.” Harry looked down, and thought of his mother and father. He never knew his mother, but his father was still alive, meaning that he could get to know his father.

“Why did you bring me here,” Harry asked. As much as he enjoyed being with Talisad and in the Blessed Fields, he wanted to get back to Hermione and the real World.

“She asked that when it was time for her leave, you would receive a present from us Companions. We, of course, agreed without a second thought, for we had come to love her dear, and that brings us to today. You will receive a total of five gifts, one from each of us. Harry nodded, unsure of what to say. “You have already been given the four other gifts; mine was meant for last. Rhanok has give you a strong sense of pride and honor, something he has cherished the most. Kharash, my dearest friend, has given you a soul mate.” When the lion said this, Harry felt his heart fly and fall at the same time. He had a soul mate, but if it wasn't Hermione… “Bharrai has blessed your equal to be intelligent and wise. After all, power needs guidance, and she will guide you. Saphia has given you a strong sense of flight, like your mother and father's, despite your earth element.”

“I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but what of yours, Talisad?” Harry asked. “You said there were five.”

Talisad smiled. “Today, I give my gift to you.” He placed a paw over Harry's heart. “You are strong, my friend, but you need to be stronger to protect those around you. Let my strength give you courage to fight for them.” Harry gasped as he felt the power from Talisad go into his body. His eyes fluttered for a moment before he passed out.

* * * * * *

Harry awake with a gasp, grabbing his heart, just to hear Hermione scream. He looked around and saw Ron was trying to steer the car from the passenger's seat, while Hermione was trying to keep Roland from leaning forward. Ron pulled the steering wheel to the left, barely missing a car. “Bloody hell,” Ron said, climbing over Roland. Hermione was pulling him back into the back seat. “What's his problem?”

“I don't know,” Hermione said. “He just grabbed his head as if he was in pain or something.” She glared at Ron. “you saw it. Why you asking? And watch you language, Ron Weasley.”

“Yes, mum,” Ron smirked, but get in the drive's seat. Hermione was able to get Roland out of the front seat entirely. He was no laying on the floor, with his head in her lap.

“Wake up, Rollie,” she whispered. Harry reached out and touched her hand. Hermione looked up and smiled at her best friend.

“Everything will be alright, Mione,” he replied. Despite the tears in her eyes from seeing her cousin fall apart like that, they held hope and strength. “He's strong.”

“Damn straight I'm strong,” Roland coughed, a bit of blood pour from his month. His voice was hoarse and weak. “I wouldn't have lived this long if I wasn't.” He tried to sit up, but the position he was in made it difficult. “Ron, drive as fast as you can to the Grangers. Don't stop for nothing, got that. Nothing.” Despite being weak, there was strength within the last words.

“Roland is something wrong?” Hermione asked. “Roland? Roland, please tell me.” Tears began to form in her eyes, and Harry wished he knew that something was wrong. His body felt cold from something, as if a ghost walked over his grave.

“Ron,” who looked back, “Just drive, don't look back.” Roland crawled over the sits, getting in the passenger's. He was still coughing, and had to wipe blood from his mouth a few times. He wouldn't answer Hermione's questions, whose tears now flowed down her cheeks. Harry reached across and pulled her into his arms. He was trying to calm her, but alas; he was able to do nothing save hold her.

Ron slowed down as they reached the Granger's residence. Roland immediately got out the car only to fall a few from the curb. He was holding his sides, groaning in pain. Hermione opened the door, and followed, rushing to his side. Harry got out only to pause at the sidewalk. Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong. Every fiber in his being ached with this feeling, he felt like he was going explode from it. And when he saw Mrs. Granger come running out of the house, her dress torn and eyes filled with fear, the explosion came.

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Chapter 13: The End is Nigh, so let the Darkness Come

Author's Note: This chapter is R, at least in my mind.

To me, this is a powerful chapter, not because of the religion, but rather the spirituality of Roland and the world he has brought with him. There are some of my key philosophies within this chapter, so I hope you can understand my beliefs through them.

I've begun to place myself in the stories, not directly as a character, but as an author with his values and beliefs. This one just pushes it even further. A lot of what I said in the first couple chapters ends here, at least in my mind.

davaca: what questions do you have that you don't understand. Either IM me or email me with them so I can answer them. Majority of the answers are there, if you just look.

No88Zero I out did my self in this chapter…

* * * * * *

Harry couldn't move. The sheer fact that this was happening stopped him from doing anything. Mrs. Granger had tears on her eyes, whether from pain or from fear, Harry would never know. For a red light came from the doorway, hitting Hermione's mum. And what happened destroyed three innocents.

When the blood red light came into contact with Mrs. Granger, she flew forward, screaming as she traveled through the air. Her body exploded, sending pieces of it in all directions. Some hair landed right in front of Roland, and Hermione just fell to her knees, the tears were flowing; yet no sound had come from her. Some of the blood landed on Harry's face, clouding his vision and his reason. It was impossible. Mrs. Granger was just brutally murdered, in such a way that there was no chance of an open casket funeral, if there was enough for that.

It was strange; this entire time Harry heard nothing, not since Mrs. Granger came running out, screaming. Sound had stopped working. Time had slowed down as well, it wasn't until Harry felt the blood upon his face did time return to its normal speed.

“Harry,” Roland stood up. A large amount of the remains had landed upon him. His face was covered in blood, dripping down from his hair. “Get Hermione in the car, now.” This was no request; this was a command.

Moving over to Hermione, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. Harry had lost his voice for a moment. “Harry, just go. Ron, drive them away.” Ron started to speak, but Roland continued. “Any where, just get away from here.” Ron ran towards the car, fumbling with the keys. Harry didn't move. He just stared at Roland.

“Are you deaf boy?” Roland yelled. “Get the fucking away from here. Don't you see you're in danger?” He grabbed Harry, practically throwing him toward the car. “Go, flee, just get away from here.” Harry moved slowly, pulling Hermione with him. A demonic roar came from within the house, shaking the neighborhood. Harry felt like his heart was going to explode. Roland didn't even look at the house. His once covered eyes were pleading with Harry. The sunglasses had fallen off, and two red orbs now stared at the Boy-Who-Lived. His skin was darkening as he spoke. “I don't want to see die tonight, please just go.” Two horns were forming on Roland's head. “Harry I promise you on my very soul, you will know what is happening, but now. Just go, and I'll explain later.”

The car door opened up, and Harry looked at it. He wanted to know what was going on, but with the crying girl within his arms, his heart told him that the knowledge would come later; she was his concern now. Harry nodded, and got into the car. Ron had finally started it, and was waiting for Harry to get in. He took one more look at Roland, only to see two large crow wings growing out of his back. If someone so hideous hadn't just happened, then it would have been beautiful. For this bleak moment, there seemed to be a bit of sunlight, and it was then that Harry realized that everything was lost.

* * * * * *

Roland screamed in pain as his wings grew out of his back. It had always been painful, as had most of his transformation been. Now it was even worst. With the pain of Mrs. Granger echoing in his dark mind, and the pain of Mr. Granger inside, he knew that almost everything was lost. Almost.

As his talons formed from his hands, Roland glared forward. He listened to the car screech away, and he said a little prayer for the children in the car. No, he thought, they aren't children any more. Horrors were placed upon these men and woman; something that should have never happened. They were children; yet no older than he was when his tragedy happened. There was so much pain in the world. And now it came upon this small house.

Father Sky began to cry, knowing what its brother was going to do. Red lightning struck across the sky, and the thunder rolled. Roland opened his mind and his soul to the world around him, taking in the power from its source. Unlike most wizards' power, Roland was limited only to that of Mother Earth's will. She protected her children, and thus was the reason for his existence.

A bolt of lightning scorched the ground in front of him, and a black sword appeared when the dust settled, sheathed in the ground. Something growled within the house, something dark and evil. A beast bounding on four limbs came out the door, pausing just in front of Roland. It had seen its brother. It had seen its death.

Roland took a step forward, grabbing the sword and swinging it in a single motion. Nothing happened, save Roland appearing on the other side of the beast. At an angle, the creature's chest fell back, blood pouring from the body. It was a clean cut, no snags, no pauses. Just straight through the Damned's body. “Perfect,” Roland whispered. His transformation was just becoming complete. Two ram horns perturbed from his forehead, as his talons gripped the sword. The two crow wings flapped behind him, as the wind increased. Rain began to pour down, but all Roland could see was blood falling from the sky. An omen for the death that had come and was coming.

The lights inside the house were turned out; leaving whom ever was left in pitch darkness. Roland sniffed the air, taking in who was within the house: a human and three beasts of Damned. There was a pile of blood, along with… Roland's face fell… burnt skin. There were seven heartbeats, two for each beast, and a very faint human one, growing slower with each passing moment. There was no time for waiting. Reaching deep within his soul, Roland felt his power, his control, his balance. Even though she was far away, he knew that she was there. Deep within his very being, she was there, holding him together. And he knew that he would be all right in the end.

Roland gathered his power, summoning the skies to cry havoc upon the dogs of War. Red lightning pierced the forsaking clouds and struck the ground outside. It was his calling card, one that every demon knew and feared.

“Our Father, in heart and heaven, hollow be thy name…” Roland whispered, closing his eyes. It would be moments before others came, and he would need all the strength he could get. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as in heaven…” steps came closer, and Roland swung his sword, slashing through an arm. A beast cried out in pain, in words no human mind could understand. “Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive our trespasses…” He kept his eyes closed, praying that he would be forgiven. “And forgive those who trespass against us…” Roland's sword went through the stomach of a demon. And he kept his eyes closed as the demon tried back into the man it once was. “Lead us not into temptation…” And he kept his eyes closed as a tear feel down his blacken cheek. In a moment, the three demons were dead, leaving nothing but what was once human. “And deliver us from evil. Amen.” He dropped his sword and cried no more. The skies cried for him.

* * * * * *

As Ron drove, Harry tried to calm Hermione down. She hadn't said anything since they left her house. The tears cascaded upon her cheeks, and her grip on Harry was iron, but she said nothing. Harry knew that she needed to get all the pain, all the suffering out of her, however long it took. He held her close, pulling her into his lap, and rubbed her back. She needed him, and Harry needed to be strong for her. They all witnessed something traumatic.

No one talked. No one wanted to. They all just wished that it couldn't, but reality came as the rain did. Hermione stopped crying a while ago. At some point, Ron had reached a highway, and sped onto it. Harry figured that Ron just wanted to drive away from the world right now.

The storm stopped, as did Hermione's crying, but for the latter, Harry figured she just fell asleep in his arms. Ron looked back at them at one point, a face of disgust painted from his eyes. When his eyes returned to the road, the car screeched to a halt. In front of them was a man in a tattered coat; with two large wings sprouting from his back. He walked over to them, the wings dissolving into his back. When the man opened the door and spoke, Harry realized that it was Roland. “Move over, I'm driving now.”

His face was covered with caked-on blood, save a single path for a single tear. He glared at them with pain-filled blues eyes. At some point he transformed back into the person they knew. Harry never realized that Roland had blue eyes; they were always hidden by the darkness. But there was something odd about them as if they were fake or manufactured in some way.

Ron climbed over in the sit, allowing Roland to get in. As soon as he sat down, he gunned the car, speeding as fast as possible. He didn't even close the door until they were moving. “What's going on?” Ron asked.

“Before man was born, there were angels, or Celestials if you will. Beings of great power, and even greater knowledge. They were radiating lights, with barely a form. And each was unique, each special. They were the precursor to something else. In time, He created humans. And some of the Celestials were jealous of the humans, for though they were created first your kind was most revered.” Roland turned sharply, nearly spinning out. The car was completely turned around now, and he sped forward. “At some point, the laws and the rules of the controlling God were too much for these jealous Celestials, so they waged war.”

Roland turned sharply again, this down, heading down a side street. At some point, they arrived in London. “The jealous Celestials, or the Damned, lost the war, and were cast out of heaven for their disobedience. The Morning Star was thrown the farthest for he lead the war. In time, many of these Damned changed, finding ways to strike back at the God who forsaken them for Humans. The first act being in the Garden of Eden, paradise. That is where Man's history begins. There are two types of Demons in this world, those who choose and those who are born. Many humans choose, and many Damned are born. Few, if none, of the Damned escape their written lives. These creatures, both human and the Damned, become Demons, corrupting and torturing Humans for the sake of pleasure or revenge, often both.”

They continued along, speeding down side street. They were coming up to a stoplight and when it turned red, Roland didn't even slow down. He sped right through, and a car was coming from the left side, threaten to hit it. Ron screamed like a little girl, while Harry just closed his eyes, and pulled Hermione closer. After a few moments, he opened them again, and saw that nothing happened. Ron was still shaking, frozen with his eyes open, looking where the car had come from. “Demons gain their power though the evil actions of others. The Damned on the other hand, take their power from the Earth. The Celestials from the heavens.”

“Then what was back at the Grangers?” Harry asked, as Ron had yet to move.

“Demons, of course,” Roland said. “The Damned aren't cruel.” Harry noticed how he left out the Celestials.

“And what are you?” Harry replied. When Roland didn't answer, Harry took it as that he didn't want to talk about it.

“That is the million dollar question Harry,” Roland said, finally slowing the car down. Harry looked out the window and saw a church right out side. “Something I'm hoping that one day I will find out.” He opened the door, and got out the car, right in incoming traffic. But that didn't stop him or the cars. Instead, the one that came close to hitting him simply passed through Roland's body. “Come, take Hermione and get inside. The first words as you enter need to be Sanctuary.” Roland opened the door, pointing at the church doors.

Harry didn't know what to do, but after what he had seen, he figured that it was better to trust Roland than anything else. He picked up Hermione and got out of the car as carefully as he could, holding her close. Harry figured that she had woken up, as she arms tightened as his foot hit the pavement. Yet she didn't move, other than pulling herself closer to him. Walking slowly, and holding Hermione's head close to his heart, Harry made his way over to the church. When he reached the door, it opened under it own accord. Standing in front of Harry was an old man wearing what looked like a suit. “Hello can I help you?” he asked.

Harry didn't say anything; he just walked in before looking at the man, remembering Roland's words. “Sanctuary, I am seeking sanctuary.” There was this glow from within, and Harry felt it stronger than when he entered the church.

“Of course, my child,” The old man replied. “You both have and always will have God's Sanctuary. May the ground you walk on protect your souls.” Harry felt the glow grow, to the point when he actually saw it within himself and Hermione. There was this golden aura around them, lasting only for a few moments, before dying away. “Come; let's get you out of the cold air.” The priest started to close the door, but a hand shot out, stopping him.

“Sanctuary, I'm looking for sanctuary,” it was Ron. His voice was forceful as if he didn't want to ask for the help that the priest was giving.

The priest didn't reply as quickly as he did with Harry. Instead, he just stared at him, thinking upon the answer. “Come in, and respect the House of God. May the earth show the same kindness you've shown it.” He glared at Ron as he entered, who in turn glared at Harry for holding Hermione. It was as if his best friend was laying claim upon Hermione. Harry noticed that his friend didn't glow like they did.

“Where is…” the priest took a look out the door, and paused. “Oh.” Harry looked around the man to see Roland kneeling in front of the church, his weapon held out in service. He was mumbling in some ancient language forgotten even by the sands and the rivers. Hermione began to stir within his arms, but the moment she opened her eyes, a bolt of red lightning hit her cousin, burning him and the ground he stood on. “All is alright dear,” the priest said, “he has permission to enter.” He turned to Harry, “here, let me take her, go help him.” Harry just pulled Hermione closer.

“Its okay, Gabron,” Roland said, standing up in the smoke. “I'll be fine once I get indoors.” He limped slowly up the stairs, a cape now draped behind him. His long black hair was held in a braid the rested upon his shoulder. He was regal, and there was this aromatic essence that radiated love and hope, yet hate and death at the same moment. And for just a single second, Harry was terrified about who was standing in front of them.

“You must tell me about your adventures,” Gabron said, “have you found any new lore?” Roland shook his head as he walked it, his cape dancing behind him. He paused at Harry, and he could've sworn that the man was going to kneel before the Boy-Who-Lived, but at the last moment, Roland held back.

“I have a few things,” Roland replied, smiling. His face was tan, and offset the red orbs that floated with his head. “But first, let us warm by the fires.” He and Gabron walked deeper into the church. Harry now took in the old place of worship. The old pews were worn, and the lights that hung from the high ceiling shook as Gabron closed the door. The two older men walked along, discussing about Roland's journeys. Both of them seemed oblivious of them, Ron just glared at Harry and Hermione. Harry, on the other hand, seemed fascinated by the church. There was a sense of hearth and home here, something he hadn't felt in a long time. The first time was when he realized that he loved Hermione.

“Hey,” Ron shouted, “what about us?” Gaborn turned around and stared at Ron as if he had an extra head coming out of his neck.

“In the back, there some food, blankets, and a few beds. Why don't go get some rest while we wait?” Gaborn replied. Ron's face lit up at the sight of food. He raced toward the door that the priest had pointed too. But Harry remained.

“You want answers?” Roland asked. He continued walking toward the confessional. “Then give me a few moments.” The man entered the door; Gaborn entered another one, just adjacent to the first.

Harry took a seat in the first pew, waiting for the men to come out. Hermione smiled as she curled up in his lap. Harry kissed her forehead softly. “You can open your eyes now.” Hermione returned the smile, but only pulled herself closer. “It is safe now.” He began to pet her hair, and she let out a soft sigh of contentment.

“Just five more minutes, mum,” she replied, but a lone tear slide down her cheek. As much as Hermione wanted to live in that charade, she couldn't. She had always been one for the truth, and this truth was killing.

“I'm here,” Harry said softly. He wished he could close his eyes and fly away from the pain, but every time his eyes took the light away from the world, the scream of Mrs. Granger began to echo in his ears. It hut him just to here that amount of pain, that amount of suffer. But Harry knew more than Hermione possible did. She was too distraught to see that pain and fear in her eyes. Harry did, and Harry knew why. The way her dress was torn, the way she limped out of the house. He knew, and he wanted to know why.

“The Damned, the Demons, Celestials:

The first watch,

The third destroy,

And the second has all the fun.”

Harry looked up and saw ghost sitting upon the altar. He was white; everything he wore was white, his skin was deathly pale, his eyes held nothing, and his hair was snow. “Eonos,” Harry said, though he held anger in his voice for some reason. The ghost smirked. His legs were crossed in only a way a woman could.

“That's right,” the ghost's voice was high above the clouds. “I guess you're wondering why I'm here.”

“Actually I'm wondering how you made it past the wards, ya fucking eunuch,” Roland appeared from the confessional, smoking a cigar. “Nasty habit these are.” He took a long drag, before blowing out a smoke dragon.

“my friends,” Eonos replied, “this isn't how you treat a bearer of news.”

Roland walked over to him. He took his time, and made no sudden movements. “No, your right.” And grabbed his neck. “This is.” Roland threw Eonos backwards, causing the ghost to break some of the pots behind the altar. Harry watched as Gaborn was barely able to hold Roland back. “You fucking traitor, I'll kill you. You're the reason why they dead. You're the reason why I just killed three men.” Roland's voice shook the church, and dust fell down from the ceiling.

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing and didn't know what was worse: the fact that the ghost standing before him was the reason behind the Grangers deaths or that Roland had just killed three people. He could move; the anger just held him in place.

“what I was going to say, dear brother,” Eonos continued as he stood up, “was that the reason behind the attack was the shield was down. I didn't let them in.” The ghost laughed as Roland collapsed to the floor, clearly troubled by that thought. Turning around, the ghost faded away as he walking into the wall.

“Roland,” the priest asked, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. The man didn't move; he just stared with his blood eyes forward where Eonos once stood. He was mumbling something over and over again. “Roland, what did he mean by that: the shield was down?”

It was then, everything clicked. The book, the book that Ron had gotten and showed it to him. Harry didn't know at the time, but he did now. It was from his trunk. A trunk that was magically sealed. Roland had bound every person but Ron. He had taken his and Hermione's wand away but not Ron's. “It was Ron,” Harry said softly.

Roland twisted around and looked at the Boy-Who-Lived. “What are you talking about?”

“That shield, it was sensitive against magic wasn't it?” Harry asked. Roland just nodded. “It's safe to assume correctly that a single spell could have destroyed it. That's way you bound me and Hermione.” Again Roland nodded. “Forget someone.” Roland looked confused. “You didn't bind Ron.” The man's jar dropped at his mistake, his foolish mistake. Harry hated having to blame it upon Ron, but nothing else made sense. He had run through ever scenario through is mind and nothing else made sense.

Hermione sat up in his lap, alternating looks between her cousin and her boyfriend. The tears and the anger was destroying her on the inside, looking for a source. She nearly fell getting off of Harry's lap, and ran toward the door where Ron exited. Harry tried to stop her but it was too late. She was already through the door. harry moved, trying to go after her, but then the wall exploded, throwing him across the room.

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Chapter 14^th: Pause in a battle

Author's note: This chapter is very short. I thought I just needed a pause as I worked on some pother projects.

I must apologize that this has taken so long. Also, I'm changing the rating back to pg-13, I've read my story a few times, and have come to the conclusion that it really isn't R. the description is limited, meaning that it could be taken just about any way you needed it too.

davaca: actually, I don't take them as biblical interpretations. They are philosophical beliefs on which my ideals of God and such are founded upon. I am not a true Catholic, rather, I believe in the Earth and the power which she has. Its pagan, but isn't. Anyway the point is this, explains why things happens. Granted, it takes it from a biblical aspect, but the title sorta gives that already…. Besides, you have to take risks in writing.

* * * * * *

Harry awake to screams; screams of a young girl being beaten for refusing to fully give in. Crucitus could no produce such screams. They burned his eyes, and straight down to his souls. “I told you, he no longer matters” a fierce voice said, followed by a loud smack! The girl wept, but remained quiet. “Good girl.”

He opened eyes and saw the starlight sky. There was a fiery aura around him, glazing everything together. Harry felt the heat, but more so felt the pain of the girl.

He groaned and tried to sit up, but a forceful hand held him down. “Easy boy, take it easy, Roland's already working on it.” It was Gaborn, the priest who was there. So where was he? Harry could see to well, which meant his glasses were probably destroyed. But at the sound of the girl screaming, everything came into focus. He sat up quickly, and felt no more pain. He could see clearly for the first time, since when ever, without his glasses. No, it was the identity of the girl that was more concerned. It was Hermione. Harry knew from the bottom of his soul that it was Hermione being hurt, and his anger was unlimited.

“Chill, okay,” Roland said; he jumped over a wall or something. It was rubble from the once decorated church. Now either ashes or ruins lied around the place. “I've made a call, help is on it way.”

“I don't give a damn-” Roland hushed Harry, who got the point. They were quiet, so should he. Which meant that who ever was out there didn't know they were still there. A bit quieter, but no less intense, “I don't give a damn about help. We need to save Hermione now.” The urgency in his voice was compelling.

“Harry,” Gaborn started, “I don't think-” but a single pleading and forceful look from Harry shut up the priest quickly. “Fine then, if it can't wait.”

“He isn't hurting her much, Harry,” Roland said, he looked over a piece of rubble watching the scene. Harry didn't like the way the man said that. “He's just controlling her. Nothing a little magic can't fix.” He held out his arm, and in it was Harry's wand. “Take it, for the moment you touch it, your bindings are gone.” Harry stared at the wand for a moment before grabbing it greedily. “Time makes the heart grow fonder.” Roland turned back to his watch. He was on his haunches, shifting his weight back and forth impatiently.

“What are we waiting for?” Harry asked. He was already running through plans as to figure out how to get Hermione back. He felt the ground leading him, guiding him along his ideas and strategies. He looked over Roland's shoulder to see what was going on, just to plan better.

There he saw his best friend, his girlfriend, on her knees crying. The sight nearly broke his heart. As the fire burned around them and this Demon sat upon a throne, petting Hermione, all Harry could think about was how hurt she looked, how utterly destroyed she was. That sight alone tore Harry's heart to pieces. Not the church burning around, not the deaths of the Grangers, as much as that did hurt him. No, Hermione's pain was his. “I afraid we're going to have company soon, my pet,” the Demon said. Hermione didn't reply, she didn't even look up. A chain was fastened around her neck, hooked to a bracelet upon the Demon's neck.

“Now's better than never,” Roland popped over the wall, pulling two pistols from his jacket. His glowing red eyes glared at the Demon as he opened fire upon the Forsaken man. A horde of shadow creatures appeared from the ground, consuming the bullets in their fiery deaths.

“These mortals are such fools, aren't they dear?” the Demon asked smirking. Harry jumped over, firing a stunner at one of the creatures that was approaching them. The Demon looked oddly familiar, yet Harry couldn't put a name to the man. The fiery red hair that burned up top his head created a haze around his face. “To think that mere bullets can harm a Fire-weaver like me.”

Harry watched as a flame grew in the Demon's hand. The man-beast grinned at Harry before hurled it at the rubble. The heat from the flames melted the rock in an instant. They were gone in a moment, the heat was so intense, and all what was left was barely a wall. The wind that was created nearly blew back the priest. Harry held his ground, and watched Roland have a hard time remain where he was. “Gaborn, revoke it now,” Roland said, reloading his pistols.

“I can't just-”

“If you wish to live, then do so. If you wish to save lives, then do so. But don't let some silly notion as God and his piety pride ruin everything for you.” Roland stood up and pointed the guns at the Demon. “Now or never, my friend.” And opened fire at the creature. Harry turned and faced the priest, who was now mumbling under his breathe.

“My god forgive me,” Gaborn said, “This is no longer holy ground.” Almost all of the light disappeared from the church. Harry felt cold now that light was gone, despite the heat from the flames. There seemed no reason for anything anymore. Despair took over. It was then, the light returned.

“Hold her, Harry,” Roland said, handing Hermione down to the fallen boy. “Hold her tight and never let go.” A faint glow came from part of his face. Harry pulled Hermione close, holding her next to his chest. Tears of joy were flowing down her cheeks now that she was safe. Her hands grabbed his shirt, pulling him as close to her body as possible. The collar remained, but the chain was broken. Harry was just happy to have her back.

Someone grunted, and Harry turned away from them, fearing for himself and Hermione. But the gentle hand that was placed upon his shoulder told him that it was Gaborn. “Fear not, my child,” he whispered. “God is still with us.” The glow that once danced within the church returned, now coming from Gaborn. “Where I rest my feet, God's will is there.” Harry could make out the priest's face, but only just. Weariness and emptiness plagued him, yet a smile was still on his face. “But I fear that my friend will not be enough.”

“What do you mean,” Harry replied. He was rocking Hermione in his arms, soothing her demons and fears.

“You need to help Roland.” A primal scream came from the other side of the rubble. Harry looked up and saw that it was Roland, taking a sword in his back. Three fiery demons appeared, and Roland was doing his best to protect them. “As strong as the Shadow is, he is nothing with the remaining Elements.” The priest looked down at Harry's hand, and his eyes followed.

Where once was pale skin now laid a tan and rocky surface. Harry felt stronger than he had ever felt before. He felt this power that had grown in side of him, something different, something great, something… “Called Love?” Gaborn asked, smiling. “It is Love for her, that gives you this strength. And that shall never leave you. Now go, help your friend save another. Your Love is safe in my arms.” Gaborn pulled Harry up, who still held Hermione close. “Let her trust the Earth, let her true the Mother.”

Roland roared in pain, and Harry saw a sword pierce his stomach. He cringed, yet Hermione didn't move. She just squeezed him, trying to hide from the pain. “He's out their sacrificing himself Harry,” Gaborn continued. “He's lost so much, Harry. And he won't live, not even considering who he is. He need's help.” A head of one of the demons was removed, rolling towards them. “There comes a time Harry, when everyone must take charge of their life, and others when they can not.” The priest looked at Hermione, sadness crossing his face. “Roland can not protect her as you can. For he does not love her as you do. And Love is the strongest power we can ever have.” From behind his back, he gave Harry a sword. “Allow the Mother to protect you.”

Harry slowly released Hermione, though with much effort to remove her from his arms. She did whimper a bit, but when Harry' kissed her forehead, she relented, allowing herself to be moved. Hermione seemed so lost, and Harry couldn't only pray that he was doing the right thing. He took the sword, and smiled at how natural it felt in his hand. Now was the time he took his life in his own hands. And not just his life, but the lives of his friends. Despite what Ron may have become, he was still Harry's friend, nothing would change that. And Hermione, his dear sweet Hermione. He vowed on that very night, with the red lightning and dark skies, that no one will hurt her again. With the last word of his promise, the skies began to cry.

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Chapter 15: Awakening to the Truth

Author's note: I've created some spells here so here are the latin roots.

Aquaticus- living in water

Devoveo- to death; [to curse, execrate; to bewitch, enchant]

Immolo- to sacrifice; to devote to death , to slay

Umbra- shadow

Claviger- of Janus

I'm posting this chapter cause I need to think about what is going to happen next. So this may be the last post for a while.

I doubt that my decision to kill the Grangers was well received but I didn't kill them. Note my words.

Davaca: there is no religion in this story… none what so ever. Just philosophy that can be derived from religion at different points and come one, where does this look like a religion. Demons and Angels are not restricted the classic dogma.

Sirei: no they aren't visions… astral projection… maybe

Godsowndevil: everything will be answered soon. That's why I need a break, so I can find those answers.

Andy: I'm sorry………………

Enjoy everyone.

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Harry jumped over the rubble, holding the blade point towards the ground. A beast jumped in front of him, but with a single upward slice of his sword, the beast moved no more. Harry stared at it for a moment, before returning to his run. He watched as three more creatures rose from the fire and attacked the man. Even with the rain pouring down upon them, Roland wasn't wet at all. He was moving so fast that the rain drops missed him. Harry stood there, just watching and what remained of his tattered shirt was dripping from the rain. His hair fell in bunches on his face, threaten to cover his eyes.

The creatures were blocking his way to Roland, preventing him from helping the man. “Roland,” Harry's voice cast silence upon the battleground. All the creatures turned around and glared at Harry. Each bore horns of burning flames, and eyes that held more hatred than the Demon that hurt Hermione, which truly surprised Harry. But he knew that his friend wouldn't really want to hurt her like that. Right? Harry blinked and when his eyes opened again, half of the demons were running toward him, claws bared and raised.

Harry swung his sword like a baseball bat, taking a head of one of the beast off. It popped up into the air, and spin a bit, but Harry couldn't concentrate on that. He had bigger problems. A demon took a swing at him, slashing at his chest. Harry tried to move away, but the beast connected, or at least Harry thought it didn't. The claws broke beneath his stony skin. The creature roared in pain, holding its claw as if it wasn't there. The fingers were crooked and bent oddly. It was during that distracted that Harry took the opportunity to kindly relive the beast of its head.

Somehow, Roland had made his way over to Harry, for something cut through the air so cleanly that the three beasts who were hit didn't even move for a moment before their torsos fell to the ground. “Light doesn't move as fast I can, Harry.” For a moment, Roland flickered and three more beasts fell to the ground. But then he faltered. “I just can't do it so often.” Despite the horrors around him, despite the death, a smile crept upon Harry's face.

Harry thrust forward, piercing a demon that came behind Roland. There were too many of them, and the fiery beasts continued to come. “Roland?!” Harry yelled, trying to get his friend's attention which was now placed upon the sky.

`Just a few more minutes,” Roland replied. “When the moon is high so shall I be.” He didn't move, just stared up at the clouds and the rain. The rain finally began to hit him, but that didn't bother him. Nothing did. Harry had a hard time seeing what happened next. His attention needed to be on the ever increasing mob of demons they faced.

Harry turned around, slashing at what he could. No matter what they did, the beasts appeared. This hydra complex was annoying him and Harry wished that there was something he could do. Hermione would have known, she knows everything. She knew why the spells worked as they did, and how they worked. She knew what would happen if you mixed this root with that stem… his Hermione knew everything, a tear fell down his check and the world lit up from his love for her.

The beast reared back in pain, trying to cover their eyes, including Roland. “Damn it, Harry,” he yelled from somewhere, “Turn off the brights so I can fight too.” In a moment, the lights were gone, but not due to Harry. He ha no idea what just happened, or how the lights appeared. Darkness had taken over, and in a swift moment, dozens of the beasts cried in pain. And just as quickly as the darkness came it was gone. Harry opened his eyes and saw a light glow around him, the same as he entered the church.

Roland was barely standing, using his swords (swords, when he'd get two?) to hold himself up. He was breathing hard, and entire body was covered in blood. It dripped down his now human face. Harry turned around and saw the beasts on the ground, many missing limbs, head, or just slashed in half. But all were dead. “Forgive me, Mother for my actions.” He almost collapsed, but held himself up with his sword.

Someone was clapping; Harry turned around and saw the Demon. His face burned brightly, hiding the eyes, but Harry knew. “What have you done to Ron?” he yelled.

“Nothing, really,” The Demon smirked. “He simply has given me a body to inhabit. `Cause after all, this boys Sins are the greatest.”

“I doubt that,” Roland replied. He coughed, and blood spilled from his mouth. He was hurting, badly. The blood that covered him must have been some of his own.

“Yes, I have watched you,” the Demon walked past Harry. “Your Wrath is so great.” Harry was surprised to see such little care for him; after all, he was just as dangerous as Roland… wasn't he? “I was surprised to see it within a Demon.”

“That's up for debate,” Roland coughed again. He was kneeling now, not even staring forward. He had used so much energy.

“No, your right,” The Demon continued. “But this boy's has so much more Sin in him. After all, Wrath, Lust, Jealousy, Pride, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony. The boy has every Sin within him. You can't be that.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry yelled at the Demon.

“Why, this boy you call your friend,” the Demon turned and faced Harry. “He has been lusting after that girl for a year now. He's completely jealous of you, which steams from his hate and pride. He commits Sloth every day of his life. Greed controls him, as does his Gluttony. Don't tell me this boy isn't evil.”

“He isn't,” Harry whispered softly.

“How do you know?” The Demon asked. “It was his wish to hit the girl; it was his wish to control, to hurt her. I just gave him the power to do so.” The smirk grew wider, showing flaming teeth and pitch black. The Demon turned back to Roland. “I heard so much about you, Al'Takas.”

“Thanks,” Roland replied with a raspy voice. He was holding himself up on one sword and the other was on his stomach were the sword impaled him earlier.

“I'm surprised at how weak you are though,” the Demon said. “I mean, many shake at the sound of your name. How can such a mortal man be dangerous.” The Demon grabbed Roland by his throat “Your nothing like those I faced three hundred years ago. Now that was fun.” In his other hand, the Demon conjured a sword wider than Harry's shoulder. How he held it up, Harry didn't know, but he was surprised when the sword pierced Roland's stomach. The pain on his face screamed out the world, for nothing escaped Roland's lips. No cries of mercy, no threats. The Demon left it there, Roland's body leaning against it as it was the only thing that supported his weight. “Pitiful.”

“Dear God,” Harry gasped. Roland was dead, just like that. His chest didn't rise; his hand didn't move other than to release the sword he was holding. It all seemed surreal. Roland held so much power in his body than Harry could have ever imagine. It was impossible. How could he win? The sense of helplessness was beginning to take over. The Demon began to walk over to Harry, who just stared at Roland. He had dropped his sword from the shook.

“How terrifying it must be?” the Demon said. “After all, your friend is controlled by me, the other one is dead. And your girlfriend will suffer for hours before she dies. I will love to hear her scream. Especially when I enter her.” Harry's hopelessness disappeared as his anger took over. This primal rage of a lion come from deep within in him. He had never felt such anger before. The plains gave him power, the animals gave him strength. In his mind somewhere, a lion roared and gave him what he needed to continue. But a hand stopped him from moving. “My dear boy, do you think that I would allow you do something so stupid like that? I am not that big of a fool.” The hand moved to Harry's neck and began to choke him.

Harry pawed at the Demon's hand, but alas, had no effect upon it. Pawed? Harry's hand now had claws on it, as well as fur was growing upon his stony skin. “Come boy, stay in one form so I can kill you like the little afraid boy you are. Not some mangy cat.” The hand tightened and Harry felt darkness come closer as he found it harder and harder to breather. At one point, the Demon had to use two hands, and was finding it much harder to kill Harry. “Die, damn it, Die boy.” The Demon grunted in his effort and Harry felt his throat collapse a bit. But only a bit. “Fine then, I shall just cut you.”

The Demon released Harry, who fell to the ground in a pile. He took deep breathes, trying to regain some feeling in his toes and fingers. Lying on his side, Harry just held his stomach, and tried to relax a bit despite a manic over him, trying to kill him. Harry heard footsteps walk away and the sound of something being sliced through. “Nothing beats a good sword,” the Demons said. Harry turned his head a bit to see the same sword that had killed Roland. It couldn't end like this, he was meant to kill Voldemort, or die by his hand, not this Demon. It wasn't mean to be this way.

Harry watched as the sword fell down toward him, ready to remove his head. A lightning bolt came from the side and threw the Demon across the room. Harry got up slowly, holding his head. It was then when two loving arms crossed themselves over his chest. Hermione was awake and here now. She was here, and holding him. “I'm safe,” she whispered. “Don't worry; you won't be harmed as long as I can stand.”

Harry got up slowly, and turned around. But Hermione had more effort. He held back his comments, but not his smile. She was almost back to her normal self. There was this fear in her eyes, of the Demon that lied a few yards from them. In the back of her eyes, she head hate, anger and tears of how she felt, of how close she came to being violated. “Your back.” He hugged her tightly. It was then her tears came. “did he hurt you other than….”

“No, he didn't to me there, Harry,” Hermione placed her head in his chest. “I think he knew that you would've murdered him in the most horrible way if that happened.”

“True,” he chuckled, earning a smile from her girlfriend.

“How cheerful,” the Demon said. Both Harry and Hermione turned and looked at the Demon without releasing each other. His left arm was hanging loosely from his body and he was favoring his left leg. Some of his fire had died a bit, but was gaining control again. Beneath it Harry could almost see Ron, his friend of five years. It was a face of pain and sorrow, begging for forgiveness. And Harry was willing to give it to him once this was all over. “I think I'm going to throw up.”

“Ron, snap out of it!” Hermione shouted toward their friend. Ron's face disappeared back into the fire. Hermione knew? Of course she knew, she probably knew from the moment this all happened.

“Ronald can't hear you, princess.” The Demon held out its good arm and summoned it sword to him. “No, he's locked in his own fire, suffering for his crimes against humanity.” Hermione gasped at the sound of it, and Harry pulled her closer as she buried her head in his chest again. “Let's finish this so I can feast upon your flesh.” Harry's stony arms pull Hermione closer, trying to shield her from the dangers that would come. The fur on his body stood on end as the electricity of the air took over, trying to form a shield around them. “Air won't stop me. Earth won't stop.”

“how bout water.” With a quite swish of her wand, Hermione yelled. “AQUATICUS DEVOVEO.” A stream of water erupted from her wand long with the air around it. It was a small storm. Harry was surprised at the force it hit the Demon. He hadn't heard of that spell before.

“Foolish girl, do you really thing that something so simple as a water spell would harm me?” the Demon held out its arm, point the sword at them. “IMMOLO UMBRA CLAVIGER.” A scythe appeared from the fire and danced around the Demon. “Like my pet.” Harry took a closer look and saw a skeleton hand holding onto the scythe. There was this cloud of soot around the scythe, which had to be a cloak of darkness.

“the grim reaper,” Hermione whisper. She knew too.

“He's one of my best friends,” the Demon said. “But of course he needs to be fed. So enjoy.” The Demon waved his hand at Harry and Hermione, and the scythe with its soot cloud flew towards them. A few feet from them., Harry saw a skeleton face grinning, with fire burning in its eyes and death upon its breathe.

Harry awoke a feet away from Hermione. Somehow he was still alive. His body ached like there was no tomorrow, but he was alive. He tried to crawl towards Hermione, but the effort caused his body to burn. Everything hurt, including his teeth. Harry didn't want to think how Hermione felt.

Finally gaining the resolve to move, Harry pulled himself over Hermione. She looked limp and dead, but Harry knew that she wasn't. He just knew. “Hermione?” he asked, crawling right next to her. She was whimpering, softly, as tears fell from her face. “shh,” he said, pulling her into his arms. There was movement in front of him and Harry wanted to see what was happening.

“Demons arise from beneath the grave,” Roland stood up from debris, he was with his shirt now and two large crow wings were stretched out behind him. Harry watched as Roland's skin began to darken as it did before. But never had he heard such a sinister voice, even from Voldemort. “And angels fall from the skies.” Roland took a step forward to the Death Eater right in front of Harry and Hermione. Harry pulled her closer, hoping to prevent any harm from her. “And I am the in-between.”

There was a slight pause in the battle, no one moved and only the burning of the church around them could be heard. The empty wind danced through, and Harry felt more secure. Looking down, he saw Hermione's eyes were open and staring at his. “Hey beautiful,” he spoke softly and pet her long auburn hair. Ron's slap had cut her lip, but the rest of her injuries were from the attack. Her left eye was beginning to swell and there were some bruises on her neck. There were probably some more injuries, but Harry didn't want to dwell on that. She was alive and that was that was important.

But the pause was over and Harry looked up to see Roland, or what he thought was Roland standing there. Roland now looked so different; half of his hair was long and blond, with a radiant yellow left eye. While the other half was pure black, and a red eye staring that the death eater. There was this heavenly glow about half his body, while a demonic one took the other half. The sheer neutrality of it was beautiful. It was then Harry knew the horror of it…

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Chapter 16: Time is of the essence

Author's Note: this chapters done… I think… I like my foreshadowing. Take a guess at what it is.

I've enjoyed this chapter greatly, and found out more about myself. Good for me… Okay I'm done

Laen: possibly next chapter I'll explain.

Godsowndevil: no, I'll tell you later, later again,

No88Zero: thanks again, I hope you enjoy this chapter

* * * * * *

The rain fell outside of the Blackbird, the pitter-patter of it barely registering in anyone else's minds. Logan stared out the window, watching the world fly by. Despite the queasiness he'd get, there was nothing like flying. It was almost as if it was meant for him. As if it was a lost memory buried deep within his mind. As If something was pulling from the depths of spirit, begging to be released. His thoughts were disturbed by the argument in the cockpit. “I still don't see why you're upset,” a childish man said. Bobby will never understand, Logan thought as he lit a match on the seat in front of him for his cigar. His thoughts turned outward despite the inward conflict.

“She has a right to now, Robert,” Warren Worthington III said, a rich kid with a pure heart. Logan chuckled to hear Angel stand up for the one person who pissed him off just a little less than Bobby. And the man used the kid's middle name. “He needs her more than ever.” Warren smiled at his girlfriend of six months, Paige Gunthrie. A blush must have passed over her face as Bobby fake-gagged in his seat.

“He left her,” Bobby replied. “He gave up his right to be with her.”

“Bullshit, Bobby and you know it.” God bless Paige and her beautiful mouth. Logan took a long drag of his cigar, still thinking of the rain. Small thoughts of the past had come back to him, especially with Jean returning, but he promised himself he'd stay off that topic for a while. She needed her space before they could go back to their playful banter. She needed time to fix things with that boyfriend of her's, or ex in this case. Jeannie just needed time to herself now, and Logan was willing to give it to her. “She would want to be by his side no matter what.”

“It doesn't matter what she wants,” Bobby said. It was then Logan decided to enter the conversation.

“His life matters on what she wants,” Logan faced the much younger kid, who was just as petty and jealous as always. “For she wants him and will always want him.” Holding up his right hand, three metal claws came from his knuckles. Snikt. “And I will protect that.”

When Roland had come to the mansion eight years ago, he was broken, a former shell of himself. The loss of his family pushed him close to the edge and had it not been for Professor Xavier, the worst could have come. Ororo was asked to help him moving on, but clearly he lacked the will to do so. At least, until a Doctor Steven Strange showed up.

Two years traveling, learning the world through his eyes, but Roland always came back. Back to the mansion. Back to his friends. He treated Logan like a father, asking him to teach the boy how to fight and how to win. The first year Roland didn't stand a chance, but the second, Logan spent most of his days healing. There were still issues, but fighting was no longer a problem. Then for the next five years, Roland entered the real world, or something like it.

He went to a school, where his life began again. Roland found a few friends, but no one like the ones he had at the mansion, who were even fewer in numbers. He was a loner, more so than Kurt, more so than Ororo, more so than Logan. What he did with his time, Logan had no idea, and the boy couldn't read before he went to school. The crash too that gift away from him.

Something changed him that year, when he turned sixteen. If anything, the world was darker just around him, yet everything else was brighter than ever. It reminded Logan of someone, a child with green eyes and pitch black hair. A babe who was destined to be great and be loved, despite the pain and trials he must go through.

Logan shook his head. Trying to think too far into the past gave him head aches. His thoughts returned to more recent years. Four years ago, Roland brought back to the mansion a friend, a mutant like him. She was special, something that everyone in the Mansion knew. Her wings and soft brown hair made her look even more angelic than Warren, a feat not accomplished lightly. And to Roland, she finally brought happiness.

But that happiness was destroyed in less than six months. Less than a year ago, Roland and she disappeared. About seven months ago, Jean returned somehow. And of course, she found out about Scott and Emma, which broke her heart. Logan tried to comfort her the best he could, but it didn't help that two of his friends were missing. Yet somehow, him and Jean got through it, knowing that their relationship had changed. Jeannie had changed when she came back; somehow, she was more familiar. If possible, her eyes were greener. And Logan fell in love with her again.

The head ache returned, and Logan went back to watching the rain fall. Six months ago, they found them. In an old S.H.I.E.L.D. building in the middle of Chicago. Logan suspected that it ran for miles below it. While rescuing other mutants there, the power went out and the captive guards went crazy. The main reason for the building was to house two demons they found. In the end, they found Roland, and he found her. The guards didn't leave the building alive, or in piece.

The rest of the trip was silent. Kurt was praying the back, trying to ignore what was going to come. Warren was holding Paige, but remained silent, thinking about what was to come. Bobby was brooding about something; Logan figured that it was over the girl. He was trying to get her attention while Roland was gone, but held nothing over. He apparently believed that he had a chance with her. Now, he refused to follow an order off of that illusion. That would cause trouble for them, and Logan didn't need any more trouble with this mission.

“ETA is five minutes, X-men,” Warren said. He gave a meaningful glare to everyone on the blackbird, but Logan was the only one who didn't look his leader in the eye. Now was not the time for pity nor sorrow, something was going down that needed man to step aside and the animal to take over.

* * * * * *

Harry couldn't believe what was standing in front of him. Roland had died but a few minutes ago and now he was standing up, holding a sword none the less. Harry couldn't feel his left hand, and Hermione kept on saying that she couldn't feel her legs. Something was not right, and Harry knew it. His entire body ached with a feeling of dread and uncertainty. “You're too late.” The Demon shouted. “They're on their way here.” The Demon swaggered a bit, unsure of how to stand. It was tired and weak apparently, but its job was done.

“Roland!” Harry yelled over the rain. “We need to get Ron out of that thing.” Roland nodded, but didn't even look at Harry. He didn't speak and his red/yellow eyes just glared at the Demon.

“I , Roland De'Moas, Al'Takas of the MorningStar clan, hereby claim my right to face you in mortal battle.” Roland spoke with such conviction. “You have harmed my friend, but more importantly you have harmed Life. For that I challenge you.” Roland bowed to the Demon, and when he looked up, he smiled.

Before Harry had a chance to blink, Roland moved and was on top of the Demon, throwing punches. The beast screamed in pain, and it was then were the Death Eaters showed up. Harry heard someone scream the spell for the death mark and watched in horror as it appeared in the falling sky.

Hermione looked up and despite the frightened look upon her face, focused and tried to place a strong front on. Harry pulled her up in his lap, holding her close to protect her. He felt the power that was in him grew stronger, as his connection to the earth grew. He felt his power that was given to him increase, as his mind connected with his soul mate. As much as he was an Earth Elemental, Harry was a guardian before hand, a guardian to his love and the life that they would live. It was for that reason why Roland wasn't worried about them for a single moment.

Someone was walking up behind him, the footsteps echoing in Harry's mind. “What do we have here?” the Death Eater said. Harry knew that he was smirking, but didn't bother turning around. “The Potter boy and his little Mudslut.” He laughed, but Harry still didn't move. He just stared forward, waiting. Waiting for the beast with in him to come out and protect them. Waiting for the lion heart that burned deep within his soul to explode and protect them. “The master will be pleased to see you dead.” Harry heard the man's robbed arm raise and draw his weapon. It was then did he choose to strike.

A swift back hand and Harry tore through the man's stomach. His rock hard skin was gone, but the beast within him was released and Harry could do what he needed to do. The sound of shots being fired made him turn his attention to the fight that was being held. Roland was thrown backward about twenty meters, and landing hard against the ground. Three death eaters had chosen then to help the Demon. “Kill them!” the Demon shouted, the three looked at Harry before smiling and charging. Harry stood up the best he could, holding Hermione close, but this time, it was she who protected him

She pointed her hand at them, and as if she held a wand, three lightning bolts appeared, and striking directly upon their chests. The force threw the Death Eaters back to the Demon, smoking from the burnt skin and cloths. Hermione looked up at Harry and smiled. He was proud of her, always strong despite the horrors that plagued her. He returned the smile and kissed her on the top of her head. “How cute,” the Demon said again. “I'll kill you both for the trouble you're causing me.” Hermione raised her hand again, but nothing happened. Of course it wouldn't work twice; Fate just had to be that funny. `Good, this will be more fun.” He charged them, but Roland appeared from the rubble, tackling the Demon to the ground.

“Get cover and protect yourselves,” Roland said, before head butting the Demon. Its skull broke, the sound pronouncing itself over the burning wood around them. The Death Eaters must have begun to destroy the surround blocks, creating as much havoc as possible. Harry paused for a moment, standing there watching Roland fight the Demon. He took a punch in his jaw before toss the beast like a rag doll.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, and if out of instinct she pulled herself up, his hands immediately holding onto her back and her legs. Harry smiled at her, knowing that they were going to be able to make it through. If it weren't for the pain in his body, Harry would have thought that it was romantic. But now was not the time for that, they needed to get away from there as soon as possible. For a brief moment he wondered what happened to Gaborn, but Roland's scream for them to run took his mind away from that thought.

Something exploded and Harry took off. A smoldering body flew past them, its wings hanging behind its body. Roland got up and ran forward, charging the Demon he was fighting. The ash of his skin fell to the ground, but Roland didn't stop; he just continued to attack. This wasn't a place where Harry wanted to be right now, especially injured and trying to protect Hermione.

Stumbling down the stairs, Harry was able to maintain control and run down the street. He saw a battalion of Death Eaters headed toward them. Hermione gasped when she saw the amount; Harry ran toward an empty building. Despite the way it looked, he felt that it was safe for them. He kicked down the door, before running through the rooms, looking for a safe place. He finally fell down next to an old hearth, one that hadn't been used in years and dust had settled all over it. There, he sat down, with Hermione in his lap.

Despite the war going on outside, Harry took the time the take in the beauty that was Hermione. She was resting on his chest, taking in slow and deep breaths. Her soft cinnamon hair cascaded around her face, wet from her sweat, the rain and her tears. Her eyes were closed, but the way her eyebrow was creased, he knew she was thinking hard about something. In a moment or two… there it is, she stick out her tongue and bite it. “What's wrong?” Harry asked, softly. Hermione shivered and Harry pulled her closer. The night was cold, and despite the fires that burned outside, the winds ate at their skin.

“I'm scared,” she finally replied. Harry nodded. It was the unknown. Hermione rarely went anywhere not knowing everything about it. Now, their world was changing. To him, it was clear that they were each mutants, whose gifts were just manifesting. “We might have just lost our best friend. Regardless of what he has done, he is still our friend.” Harry didn't argue, he just leaned back, resting his head. He closed his eyes, thinking of what had just occurred. “Oh Harry.”

He felt a sharp sting as Hermione probably touched his forehead. “ow.” His eyes opened up to a smiling girlfriend she had found a rag from somewhere and was trying to clean the wound on his forward. “Why'd you do that?”

“You got hurt,” she replied. Again, she took the rag and placed it gently against his forehead. “Now don't move. I don't think you'll want another scar.” Harry sighed, giving in despite the pain that came when she touched his wound. “I wish I had my wand.” Hermione took his head in her hands and rested hers atop his. “I think you'll be alright, but…” Hermione kissed his forehead. “Get some sleep; you've had a long night.”

“So have you, Mione,” Harry whispered. He didn't want to sleep, but the world was darkening as the long night was finally taken its toll on him. Before he fell asleep his arms wrapped them around her, pulling her closer.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione spoke so softly, taken back by the sight of her boyfriend. Even now, dirty and bloody, he was adorable, especially when he slept. All the pain that had plagued him in the wakening hours, all the guilt and duty that hung on his shoulders was taken away. Nothing could hurt him, and Hermione would make sure of it.

When he confided with her after his interlude with Roland, Hermione was touched and hurt. Touched that he saw her worthy of taking some of his burden, and hurt that he had been holding it in for so long. Tears came to her eyes as she thought and imagined what the Dursleys did to him. She held her sobs in, but a lone tear escaped, falling upon the wound he had just taken. With her eyes closed Hermione could not see the cut glow white for single moment before healing completely. Had Roland been there, he could have explained what had occurred, how it was her awakening Harry's secondary mutation or her own for that matter, but neither teen cared at the moment. Each was too worried about the other, and the pain that their loved one had gone through.

* * * * * *

When they touched down, Logan was surprised to see the damage done. Nearly an entire block was in flames, burning for sins of man and the deaths that were calling for vengeance. Taking a deep sniff, Logan tried to locate his friend. The scent was a specific one, sulfur and brimstone, but also roses and lilac. The odd combination was enough to give him a headache, but Logan had learned to deal with it. At times, it was invigorating to smell it, especially when Roland was in a good mood, the roses and lilac took over. But right now, the sulfur and brimstone burned his nose, and he knew that something was wrong.

“Angel, I'm going to look for Fallen,” he said, and took off running down the street. It wasn't a request, but rather a statement. Despite being on the team, Logan was a loner. He had no one really. It wasn't until he met Jean did he believe to have found actual love. There weren't many people who he called friends. And so when they were hurt, Logan protected them.

He continued to sniff the air, trying to find Roland through that means, but it was then when something familiar entered his nose. A smell that he had not smelt in a long time, sixteen to fifteen years. It led him away from the path to Roland, but this smell was something more, something from his past. Green eyes flashed in his eyes when Logan first got a whiff of it. He took off, toward an old abandon building but stopped short. A small group of men in cloaks was heading toward him.

“Well, well, well,” one of them said, holding out a pointy stick. Logan recognized it, or he thought he did. A wand? The word had just entered in his mind; he had no idea where it had come from. But it did bring his most common action. Snikt. All his claws were extruding from his hands now, pointing down ward. Logan growled, showing no fear despite the lack of knowledge of the weapon he was facing. He dove at them, but a beam came from the stick and threw him back. “A dog really. One that should be killed.” The man stepped closer, until he was right over Logan.

He was dazed for only a moment and was able to catch the sight of the man raising his weapon at his body. As if out of reflex, Logan swung his hand, slicing the man's stick into little pieces, along with a few fingers. The man screamed in agony, holding his hand close to his chest. Logan didn't take the time to enjoy what he just did, nor could he. He had to move fast enough to avoid whatever else the remaining men were firing at him. Something hit his left shoulder, but wasn't able to pass through the bones that were grafted into his body less than sixteen years ago.

* * * * * *

When Harry heard the curses being fired, he awoke. A bestial cry came from outside, a cry of pain and agony. He tried to get up, but Hermione remained firmly locked onto him. “Hermione,” Harry spoke softly, right into her ear. “Please there is someone who needs my help.” The cry came again, one that was familiar as if from a dream of a long time ago. Sixteen years. Three men cried in pain before there was silence, and Harry heard the haggard breathing of something. Hermione did not move from his lap, nor did she truly want to. There she was safe, and at least under the illusion that was safe as well. But Harry knew better.

He focused as hard as he could, thinking of Hermione and his will to protect her. His skin hardened, turned black for a moment before his body turned translucent. The sound of stone upon stone, mineral upon mineral, woke Hermione up from her peaceful dream land, and when she looked at Harry she smiled. “Diamonds are forever,” resting her head upon his shoulder.

It was true, for Harry's skin was now diamond, reflecting the limited light as well as refracting it, bending it away from his body. Harry stood up slowly, trying to adjust to his new body. Hermione giggled, and Harry stopped. “What?”

“You're so adorable,” she finally said out loud. After thinking it for so long, she had to say it. His hair was longer now, thanks to the lion transformation before. It was still a bit messy, but hung back from the sweat, the tears, and blood. His eyes, now no longer hidden by the glasses, stood out strong and beautiful. But she missed his glasses, to her; they were what made Harry, well, Harry. It wasn't the scar, it wasn't the fame. It was his simple black thick glasses. Hermione touched his face gently. “I miss your glasses.” She gave him a forlorn smiled, thinking of him before all of this happened.

“I missed your smile.” Harry replied. He was lost in the moment, looking into her soft cinnamon eyes. “You okay?” she nodded. “Still can't feel your legs?” Hermione shook her head; Harry pulled her close, allowing her place all her weight on him. “I'll take care of you.” He began to walk, limping a bit with Hermione on one side, but continued on. He wished he had his wand, so that way he could have some illusion of being able to protect themselves from afar. Suddenly, a stick came flying through the air, landing in his hand. The touch of the wood was so familiar. “My wand?” the surprise in his voice was evident, as Hermione was staring at it as well.

“Hold it,” a man came running after it. Six claws had come out of his knuckles, three on each hand. “I don't want trouble, bub.” The man seemed so familiar to Harry. It was the blue eyes that stared at him that reminded Harry of someone, but he couldn't place a finger on it.

“Neither do we,” Harry replied, pointing his wand at the man. He was covered in blood, along with many burn marks and a long cut on his left shoulder, but it didn't seem to slow him down. “We just want to go somewhere safe.”

“Fine, follow me,” the man turned around and left the room. Harry gave Hermione a look. She shrugged and he picked her up, and ran after the man. “I can take you to the Blackbird, then to the X-Mansion. There is possible the safest place for a mutant.” Harry didn't pause this time when the man called them mutants. After today, he was happy that there was somewhere he could be safe, even if for a fleeting moment. From there, he could call Dumbledore to get them to a safehouse until they could return to Hogwarts.

“That's fine,” Hermione said for Harry. “Wait!” Harry paused and looked at the sweet girl in his arms. “What about Roland?” The man stopped and looked at them.

“You know, Roland?” Hermione nodded. “Where'd you last see him?” Hermione pointed at the burning church. “Of course he's in the middle of it all.” An explosion came from the remains, but no one moved. “Take yourselves to the jet.” The urgency in his voice made Harry's breathe hitch within his throat. The man pointed at a black mound about thirty meters away. “Don't follow me.” The man ran off, jumping over the rubble.

“Harry,” Hermione pulled Harry's face to look into his eyes. “For once do as an adult says.” He smirked at this, and blushed slightly. “You are in no condition to help.” Her voice was firm, but kind. Almost a classic McGonagall.

“Yes ma'am,” Harry kissed her lightly before walking toward the black mound.

“That's right,” Hermione replied, giggling after a few moments of her high and mighty act. Harry laughed along with her. “Now, lead me to safety my prince.”

“Yes, milady.” She rested her head on his shoulder. So much had happened. Hermione thought back to the man they had just met. He seemed so familiar. Not like a person she had met, but someone she had seen. Someone from a picture maybe or something. Hermione couldn't place her finger on it. The eyes held so much pain, as if he had lost something very near and dear to his heart. There was this emptiness that she saw when ever he looked at them.

Within a few minutes, they had made it to what the man had called a jet. The black hull seemed to meld with the night, hiding it from many prying eyes. “What do we do now?” Harry asked. Hermione smiled and pointed toward the haul, asking to move closer. Within arms reach, Harry stopped. Hermione simply knocked. Right next to them, a hatch opened up.

“Boys,” Hermione said, shaking her head. A translucent blue man stepped out, and the air grew colder.

“Well, what do we have here,” the teenaged man asked. He was immature and young, that much Harry picked up from his body language. He didn't trust the kid already.

“Iceman, knock it off,” a warmer voice from inside yelled. “Husk, can you help them in, I doubt Iceman is willing.” A few seconds passed before a woman walked down the ramp. Iceman had disappeared back into the jet.

“Hey,” she said, walking up them. “Name's Paige Gunthrie. But Warren insists on using codenames on missions, so Husk it is.” She looked oddly at Harry and Hermione, but was quickly distracted by the explosion from the church. “I think the rest of introductions can be done later. Right now, we need to get ready to leave.”

She ushered them inside, giving them seats in the cock pit. Harry helped Hermione in her seat, earning a small kiss on his cheek. He took his seat next to her, and then took her hand, holding it and giving her hope. His thumb lightly massaged the back of her hand, sending shivers down her spine. But Hermione didn't complain. His touch made her feel wanted and loved.

Harry took in his surrounds, studying the people and things around him. He already figured out the quickest route out of the jet, along with ways to remove the seat belts. He was also studying people. The man who yelled at Iceman had white wings on his back, and despite the bulk of them, he was the one who would be flying the jet. Iceman was seated as far as possible from the angel, sulking about something. Husk was with the angel, animatedly talking about something, though they were whispering. Finally there was some real noise. The man whom they had met before's voice came over the radio. “Get the damn bird ready to fly, I got him.”

The angel snapped to action, and began pressing buttons and pulling levels. Husk unfastened her seat belt, and walked down to the hatch only to be nearly run down by the man before. Harry turned to look and what he saw surprised him.

Collapsing to the ground, the man rolled over, lying on his stomach, reveling many cuts and wounds to his back, some burn marks, other cuts that had to be down to the bone. but the blood was limited. Husk didn't attend the man either, taking straight to Roland. “why?” Hermione asked, but Harry quickly quieted her. Right now was not the time to be seen nor heard.

“All explain later,” he replied, taking her in his arms. Harry looked away, knowing that their friend lied in worse condition, given the new pool of blood that had formed underneath him in such a short time. The other man had begun to heal his wounds; possible due to his mutation, but right now, it was Roland who needed help the most.

“Angel, we need to get him to her fast,” Husk yelled from the back. “I can't heal him with what he left us.” immediately the jet shook as it rose in the air. It was then Harry remembered something.

“Wait what of Ron?” he asked loudly, in a gravelly voice. He was tired, but he needed to know.

“Safe,” Roland's voice came from the back, weak and tired, but the air carried it nonetheless. “He's safe and will be released when we get back home.” Something thumped behind them, and Harry could only assume that Roland had just used whatever power he had left.

“Just go damn it,” the man had gotten up and taken a seat in the co-pilot seat. He pressed a button and closed the hatch. “We need to leave before those people continue to pop up.” His face was lready recognizable, despite a few of the deep gashes.

“What color robes were they wearing?” Hermione asked.

“Red, why?” the man replied, pulling out a cigar and lighting it.

Hermione didn't respond. “Aurors, he was attacking Aurors, Harry,” she whispered softly into her boyfriend's ear. He just nodded. “Harry, he killed-”

“Of course I killed them,” the man said, “they were attacking me with their sticks that fired this green light.” Hermione gasped and Harry stopped breathing. The Ministry was attacking a mutant with the Killing Curse. It was hard to think that their own government would sanction the killing of people. “But I think Roland took out more that I did.” the man was smirking as he took another puff of his cigar.

Husk walked past them, taking a seat behind the Angel. “Any way we can go faster?” she spoke softly, trying not to allow them to hear. But Harry caught ever word. His senses were over developed, something he figured came from his mutation. “Roland isn't going to make it if we don't hurry.” The angel nodded, but the other man didn't seem worried. He just stared forward.

“Give him a kick,” the man said, “that'll wake him up.” Husk gasped at his comment, but the angel didn't move.

“I'll speed up as much as this ship can handle, but…” the angel trailed off. Harry got the message. It seemed unlikely that Roland was going to survive.

“This would have never happened if she was told,” Husk said loudly, glaring at Iceman.

“It not my fault,” he said, placing his feet up on one of the seats. Husk immediately hit them down. “Hey?!”

“Yes it is,” she replied, willing to pick a fight with the teenager. “You were the one who decided that you wanted to tell her where we were going, which you failed to do. If she was here, she could heal him.” Paige's voice bounced along the walls of Harry's mind, reminding him of his own responsibilities. Hermione was curled up next to him, holding his arm as a child would hold a teddy bear, or a comfort blanket. With his other hand, he gently pet her forehead covered in her bands. She pulled him closer, yet held a smile on her face, knowing that he was there. She was his responsibility now, and Harry would take care of her; he would protect her through any means necessary. His life would end before a single hair was every harmed on her head,

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Chapter 17: Awakenings

Author's Note: I've had a lot of things going on in my life, so if you want to read, go here (http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=demonicwriter)

I'm sorry it's taken me a long time to even write this. I've had too much on my mind, especially considering what just happened recently.

Davaca: give me your screen name if you have one, I'll wanna talk to you about your opinion and try to find out why you think that way. Possibly I could change...

Laen: that is a massive foreshadowing to the finally

Baelin: waiting for mine to get back at me, but that's not stopping me from publishing this. I'll edit it then

This is a short chapter. But hopefully, there will be more to come.

The light from the sun had just entered the infirmary, casting a haze over the patients who were peacefully asleep. No dangers, no fears, no hate to curse them and their dream worlds. Nothing could touch them. Nothing except a scream.

As the woman screamed her frustration, Harry tried to sit up, blinking away the sleep that hung gracefully in his eyes. But there was a weight that hung to his chest. Looking down, he saw Hermione laying there, peacefully asleep and smiling. Her grip on Harry was firm, yet soft, like with a teddy bear. He felt tired, exhausted, much like he did after a Quidditch match, but nowhere near as sore. He looked down and saw that his left hand was bond tight; a white bandage held his fingers closed, though he had no idea why. The world was fuzzy again, meaning that his new eyesight was gone and that he would have to find his glasses.

With his free hand, Harry reached over to Hermione's hair and began to softly pet it. She cuddled closer to him, moving farther up his chest until she was almost right underneath his nose. She shifted around, practically placing herself in his arms, not that Harry minded. He could have stayed there the whole day, if not for the nurse who just happened to come by them. Harry's eyes must have been closed since she had to have figured he was still asleep the way she was talking to them. “I swear, every day Bobby becomes more and more unacceptable.” She fixed Harry's pillow and sighed right next to him. “You two really are adorable. I still can't believe that you refused to let go of each other.”

“Of course they wouldn't let go,” a man's voice rung in Harry's ears. “They are in love and in pain. What more to pull them to together when one is in need?” Some wheels scrapped against the floor as the man approached. A wheel chair? Harry thought. Where are we? He wanted to open his eyes, but Hermione snuggled closer, and Harry smiled. “Ah, I see one of them is awake.” His eyes popped open quickly, but he didn't try to sit up. “No, stay where you are, we'll come to you.” The wheels scrapped across the solid floor. Within a few moments, a woman was looking over him, holding her hand against his forehead.

“His fever is down.” The woman pulled back and Harry looked at her. She had long black hair, hiding some of her face. “He also looks better. I think the infection is going away.”

“Infection?” Harry asked, and again fought the urge to sit up.

“Yes, apparently you got a cut-”

“My forehead?” Harry asked trying got be helpful, but when he reached up and touched it, all he could feel was his old scar, nothing else.

“No, there was a cut along your arm.” the woman pointed at his bandaged hand. “We were worried that we were going to have to remove it, but I think that it has heal rather nicely, if not surprisingly quick.” she gave a look to the bald man in the wheelchair.

“I doubt she'll wake up if you move a bit so you are a bit more comfortable when you are talking to us.'” Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to move. He felt very comfortable with Hermione sleeping on his chest like that. But in truth, he wanted to see them better. So moving slowly, Harry was able to pull himself up, despite the sore muscles that ripped through him with pain. Hermione simply shifted down his chest until she was in his lap. Harry took a pillow and gave it to her to rest her head upon, sliding it carefully underneath her sleeping form.

“Sir, you don't happen to have-” Harry began to ask, but the man held out a pair of glasses.

“Roland left them for you, saying that you were probably broken last night.” Harry was unsure if the glasses would even work, but he was surprised at how clear he saw with them. Apparently the shock was evident upon his face for the man chuckled and added. “Yes Roland does have a way of knowing things that he shouldn't. We've just haven't figured out how he does it.” The man smiled. He was bald, not the normal balding man, but he had completely shaved off all his hair. He had his legs wrapped in a blanket, and was petting an orange cat.

”But please excuse my poor manners,” the man continued. “My name if Professor Charles Xavier. Right now you are in the hospital room of the Xavier School for the Gifted.”

“Gifted? As in mutants?” Harry asked. After seeing what occurred the night before, Harry figured that mutants had to be involved. Especially friends of Roland's. The bald man nodded and Harry replied with the first thing he thought of. “Cool.” Xavier chuckled.

“Well, that certainly wasn't the response I was expecting,” The man smiled, “but not unwelcome. I am glad to see you are so open to mutants, Harry, right?”

“That's cause I'm a mutant,” Harry replied, his eyes settling down on Hermione.

“Because Harry,” she said softly, her head reclaiming his lap. “Use correct grammar.” He petted her hair. “And we both are, I think, professor.”

“Ah, I see you are awake.” The old man smiled, though Harry missed it, his eyes remaining on the girl in his lap. “We'll leave you two alone now, so you can talk about last night.” He nodded, thanking Xavier for allowing them this time. The wheels disappeared followed by feet shuffling along quickly.

For a while, Harry didn't say anything, he just petted the soft locks of the girl smiling on his lap. But he had so much on his mind, mainly what happened to the Grangers. Harry didn't want Hermione to hold all that pain in; he wanted her to grieve. He wanted to be able to move on, not just hold that anger and hate. Now was better than ever. “Hermione we need to talk.” She sat up quickly, fear in her eyes. “No, not that, I'm happy with you.” She sighed and Harry pulled her into his lap. “No, I want to talk about what happen last night.” Her arms were held close to his chest, one grabbing his shirt. Harry's arms were holding her waist, his eyes trying to look into hers.

“I'm okay,” Hermione replied, refusing to look into his eyes. She began to play with some of the sheets that were wrapped around them.

“No, you aren't,” Harry lifted her chin so he could see her eyes filling with tears. “I know what you are going through-” She started to open her mouth but quickly shut it, along with her eyes, trying to hold back the waterfall that was threatening to tumble down her cheeks. “Please, talk with me. It's me, Harry, your best friend for six years and your boyfriend.” Hermione smiled at that last part, but didn't look at up him.

“It was you who told me about Fate, Mione. It was you who told me that things happen for a reason, even if we don't know what that reason is.” Harry pulled her close, trying to get her to grieve, but Hermione shook her head no, refusing to think about her parents, but the tears on her cheeks betrayed her will. “I am here for a reason, and that reason is you.” The walls broke down, and Hermione allowed herself to grieve, albeit silently. Harry remained her rock, holding her to the real world and his love. “Let it out, I'm here, Mione, I'm here.” She cried harder, knowing that Harry would protect her. She knew that in the end he would always be there, waiting for her, watching over her.

For a while, neither moved, even after Hermione stopped crying. She just stayed within Harry's arms, him playing with her hair. They didn't even talk, comfortable in each other's presence to where no more words needed to be said. Finally, when a bell rung in the distance, Hermione spoke up. “I can feel my legs again.” Harry smiled. She returned one with her perfect teeth, thanks to Madam Pomfrey. Hermione looked down again, rubbing her chest from where Dolohov's curse cut her. A pain echoed through is full heart knowing how much pain he caused.

“I figured that you could,” Harry replied. “But how are you other wise?”

“It still hurts,” Hermione looked down, playing with the sheets again. “Like an emptiness that I will never be able to fill. And I doubt that will ever go away.”

“No, it won't,” Harry kissed her the crown of her head. “But you can find something to help lesson the pain.” Hermione looked up with hope in her eyes.

“You'll be it then,” she leaned forward, and kissed him gently upon the lips before wrapping her arms around him. Harry's arms knew where they want to go, hooking themselves around her waist and pulling her closer. Even after spending all their time with each other, this relationship was only a few days old, new to them. He kissed her deeply, taking it slow. He didn't want to push her or himself; everything happens in it own time. But right now, they need this release. Harry held in his fears and worries the night before. And to know that she was safe lifted his heart high above the clouds.

Hermione pulled away slowly, looking into his eyes. “What's wrong?” for a moment, she didn't answer. Instead, she removed his glasses, searching his eyes. “Hermione?”

“You need to grieve too,” she spoke softly. And Harry looked down. He didn't want to grieve, nor did he think he was ready. “It wasn't your fault, honey.” She cupped his cheek, soothing him with her thumb. Harry knew where this would lead to, but he couldn't go there, not even now. She couldn't know, not now. It would break her heart. “Don't.”

“Huh?”

“Don't,” Hermione repeated. “Don't push me away. You wanted me, you got me.” The bossy side came back out and Harry almost feared the curly brown haired girl. Almost. “Now, you either need to talk about or….” Hermione poked Harry's side. “Or I can force the information out of you.” She poked him again, yet Harry didn't move.

“I'm not ticklish there,” He smiled. Harry was glad for the diversion. “But let's see if you are.”

“I'm not ticklish either.”

Harry tried to tickle her side, but Hermione squirmed. “Oh, so maybe Ms. Granger is ticklish.” He moved again, but she wiggled, forcing Harry to pause. Her ward dress she had on opened up a bit.

“Harry,” Hermione asked as her boyfriend sat straight up. “What's wrong?” she straddled his legs, and leaned forward, giving him a better look. “Harry ,talk to me.” He couldn't look down with out seeing- “oh, Merlin.” Hermione quickly sat back, her face burning bright red, practically matching Harry's. He quickly closed his eyes as the dress almost fell completely off.

“I'm sorry,” Harry said quickly, hoping to recover some of her dignity. Better him take the blame then her be completely embarrassed. But of cause Hermione would have none of that.

“Nonsense, Harry,” Hermione cupped his cheek again, smiling. Her other hand held her ward-dress closed. “It was an accident. But if you could do a favor.” Hermione turned around, the white straps that held the neck closed where hanging along her bare back. Luckily, the straps were still tied tightly around her waist. But it did leave little to the imagination. Harry looked up, gulping down the lump that now was firmly lodged in his throat. `Please Harry, I can't hold this closed and tie it at the same time.”

Harry didn't answer. “Consider it boyfriend privileges.” Harry watched her blush come sailing down her back. “Please.” Without seeing her eyes, he knew she was a making a puppy-dog face. Sighing, Harry knew he was defeated. He looked down and tried to focus, but with a beautiful bare back with he just wanted to run his hands up and down, it was hard. But slowly, he reached out and took one of the white straps in his hand. Hermione shivered under his cold hands. And moving with the grace he received from being a Seeker, Harry quickly tied her dress back up, but not before running his fingers down her back. Hermione's soft moan almost missed his ears, but he caught it nonetheless, and a smile came to his face.

“You okay?” he asked placing his hands on her shoulder and looking at the top of her head. Hermione nodded, but didn't turn around. She sniffled, and Harry watched a hand come to her face to wipe the tears away. “Mione, what's wrong?”

“My parents would have loved you,” she said, not looking at her boyfriend. “You are so loving and gentle.” She sighed, her shoulders dropping. Hermione was defeated. At the sight of her mother being brutally murdered cursed her with a plague that would never leave her alone. That is, until Harry helped. “I'm not even mad at you for shortening my name.” Hermione whimpered. Harry pulled her back into his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“I miss them so much,” Hermione's face contorted from the pain of loss, the tears ready to fall. “Why does it hurt so much?”

“It feels like a part of your heart is missing, doesn't it?” he whispered softly, placing his chin gently on her head. “Its like the world is colder without them?” Hermione nodded, and wiped away more tears. “It'll never go away, never heal, even though the pain will lessen. That hole will always be there, but the memories will be too. Cherish them, Hermione. For you know that your parents will always love you.” Tears were threatening to fall from Harry's eyes. He never knew his parents. In fact, he was jealous of Hermione and Ron, both having know their parents. He closed his eyes, trying to think of them. Bright green eyes and blazing hair were what he could remember the most, but somewhere he saw bits and pieces of his father. A man who hair was a black as Harry's, who wore glasses just like his son. It was the little things that haunted Harry.

Sleep came to both of them, Harry's arms never unwinding to allow Hermione out, she never leaving his side. Two souls had become one in some mystical way. It was as if everything in the world had turned out alright. And nothing could change the destiny that was brought toward them.

* * * * * *

Professor Charles Xavier smiled at the sight of the two newest additions to his school. They were comforting each other in their darkest hour and were going to survive. Yet, he had never seen two children so in love and devoted to each other. The only other two people who held that much love was Roland and Heather. A frown came to his face as the thought of one of his most troubled students arose.

“Come Annie,” Charles said, “we should check up on Mr. de'Moas.” He rolled down the hallway, making his way to the private wing of the mansion.

A few of his students swore that it was haunted; by the moans, the creeks, and the darkness that hung in the empty air. But he knew it was all a hoax, one created by the two students who lived there. Almost no one else could handle the emotion onslaught that came from the area. Annie was nervous as they approached the wing. Roland wasn't one of her favorite people right now. Her son had accidentally entered this wing and was in a coma for a few days. Charles was a mission in Washington at the time of the incident, and Emma had no experience with Roland's mind traps. But, Alex seemed to enjoy the experience, even matched wits with Roland. When he returned, Alex wanted to talk to the man, but his mother quickly forbid it. Mutants were one thing; demons were a completely different story.

“Relax, Annie,” Charles said, rolling down the hallway. The voices that normally haunted the area were gone. Instead, joy and happiness had taken its place. “odd.”

“I dobut you want to go down there right now, Chuck,” Logan was standing in the shadows. “AS soon as she was able to heal the worst of his wounds and jump start his ability, she jumped him. They've been at it for about an hour.” Annie blushed and looked away, but Charles just smiled.

“and why are you down here?” Logan smirked.

“I wanted to talk to him about something.” The only person other than his girlfriend that Roland trusted was Logan. Something had happened in the past couple years that caused the loner to find a friend within the demon. To Charles, it was a good thing. Logan turned to leave, a cigar in his hand.

“If you wish to know,” Charles said as he turned himself around, “The two children you brought back from England are awake and well.”

“They ain't children,” Logan replied. “They've seen more than enough to scare me shitless.” He walked away and didn't look back at the old man. A bird flew in from an open window and landed gracefully upon his shoulder. “why, hello there, darlin'.” He petted the owls soft feathers, earning a coo from it. “You must belong to harry.” The owl nodded. “Well, he's restin right now, with that girl of his.” The owl nodded. “you hunger, cuase I am. Why don't we go find us some food.” The owl cooed again, and Logan walked away, talking to it.

“Professor?” Annie asked.

Charles shook his head. Things were going to get very odd around the X-Mansion, more so than usual.

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Chapter 18: What is this thing you call `cold'

Author's Note; Despite what many of you think, this chapter needs to happen, maybe because I want it to or the story needs it, but either way here it is. Or there

Roland had already fogged up the bathroom the moment the freezing shower hit his skin. He ached dearly, but some of it was worth it. He was glad to be back in the arms of his girlfriend. He chuckled before correcting himself. “Fiancé,” his voice was hoarse and dead, his vocal cords needing to regrow.

“Roland?” she yelled through the closed door.

“What?” he stepped into the shower and every cut from the night before opened up, his blood spilling into the tub. He winced at the pain, but didn't' say anything else.

“I was going to warn you about taking that shower,” she stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

“And that would mean anything to me because?” Despite heating up the room, Roland enjoyed the cold water for once. He could have sworn that it would have frozen anyone else, but to him, it was a nice change instead of the heat that always was around him.

“I don't want you wounds to reopen.”

“Too late.” Roland took his time, cutting his hair as he washed off the grim and the death from his skin. A patch of skin burned his chest, and Roland slowly removed it, creating more blood. At least that massive wound from the Demon was healed up.

“Well, finish up so I can heal you.” He chuckled again, and felt her punch upon his arm despite the fact that he knew she didn't move.

“Thanks,” Roland replied, rubbing his arm. She had caught a rather sore spot. The pain echoed through is body, and he felt a few loose teeth. He sighed, and focused, drawing the power that was around him into his body. Everything was connected, and while he was infinitely small, the power he had access to was infinitely large. The room expanded, moaning against the stress, because shaking as it returned to its normal size. Almost all of the wounds were gone, though an old one within his side had opened up. He reached for a towel as the world remained still. He had a while if he remained at that speed before his girlfriend even touched the shower curtain. But as he wrapped it around him body, the world returned its normal speed.

“Roland de'Moas,” his girlfriend yelled at him, the shower curtain opening up. Roland tensed up, but nearly fell as the wound began to bleed again. “You should know better than that.”

“My cousin told me that many times,” Roland chuckled, pulling his hand away, looking at the red blood. He hadn't tasted it in over three years, but the craving was still there, like all of his brethren. Human blood was an addiction for some demons, and clearly his father was on of them and was kind enough to pass upon that disease. He shook his head, fighting off the last of his demon hood back into the depth of his soul.

“And yet you still do not listen.” The girl placed a hand upon his forehead and on the wound. She used his power, having lost almost all of hers. Slowly, they were coming back, but she still had to rely on Roland more than she cared for. They glowed bright white before the world came back in focus and Roland's wound was healed again, if only of a short time. “Now, please, try not to reopen this wound.” She petted his black hair, taking him into her arms.

In truth, he was all she had left. Her family was slaughtered by a pack of banthi demons, ones that he missed in his travels. The next three days were spent eliminating the world of them. There might be a few left, if only Roland released that his heart was misplaced, and he rushed home to take her in his arms and comfort her. After their little adventure from the previous year, it took all of Roland's power to hold onto her and protect her. “I should have been there,” she whispered as Roland slowly began to breathe again.

“nope, you needed this just as much as I did.” Roland said, reaching up to caress her face. Tears were rolling down. Their connect was stronger than ever, especially after last night. Even in his condition, he wanted to be complete. And now they were. “Besides, helping what Rolands do best.” She chuckled at his sweet antics. He adore the simple things in life, which was probably do to the horrors he had seen. Being to Hell thrice did wonders to a person, many having not survived it. But he went, twice to save her.

A hacking cough fit took over Roland, and his girlfriend held him still as he nearly coughed up a lung. “Lets get you off of this floor and dress. Then you will go back to bed to properly recovering.” There was no room for argument in her voice.

She stood up, pulling Roland to his feet before leading him to bedroom. The room held many shelves, a few filled with books, but most holding statues or relics Roland had collected through the short five years of his career. “You look pale,” she said, sitting him down on the bed, before heading into their closest and pulling out a shirt and a pair of pants for him. Black as that was the only color he wore. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Two three,” Roland paused, taking in a deep breathe. “weeks ago.” He didn't have to look up to know that his girlfriend was standing shocked, her mouth opened, and angry as Hell.

“Roland Clark de'Moas,” she said.

“Oh, middle named me, that isn't good.” Roland chuckled before trying to dodge a slap on his arm from her. He didn't have such luck,

“You should know better than that.” She was standing over him, fuming. Roland could feel her power pulsing through the room. “And why haven't you been eating?” For a moment, Roland didn't answer; the world went black, then cleared up again. “Roland?” she was shaking him. “Roland, what's wrong?”

“Fuck,” he whispered before closing his eyes again.

Roland suddenly jerked back, practically throwing himself onto the bed. His hand shot up to his head, trying to hold out the pain and the anguish. The visions were horrible sometimes. Like this one. It was from the Library, the future in one of many forms. The girl screamed and the demons ascended. The pain echoed through is body; causing every wound he ever received to open up again. It hurt. It hurt as Hell descend upon the girl and Roland felt it all. The screams etched into his brain a single word: Potter.

He passed out from the pain, but heard somewhere in the light his girlfriend yelling for help, and trying to hold his body together. Maybe it was finally over and the light was quickly replaced with darkness.

* * * * * *

Harry was sleeping when the infirmary's doors were thrown open by an unknown force. He was still sleeping when the girl was yelled at Annie to help the man in her arms bleeding to death from all the wounds he had. And he was still sleeping as Logan stormed into the room. No, it was the screams of Hermione that woke him. Sitting up he looked around, the world blurry. Hermione was holding him tightly, refusing to let go. He wrapped on arm around her, the other taking his glasses and Harry saw the horror before him.

The man whom Harry assumed was Roland was covered in boils and burn skin, some it fresh as the smoke was coming off of him. Blood was pouring out of nowhere, but it seemed that his entire body was bleeding.

Logan was standing next to Annie practically yelling at him to prep him for something. Another man with brown hair and a red visor ran in, followed closely by a woman with red hair. She was beautiful. Harry could have sworn that she was familiar, but never saw her before. “Why are we helping that demon?” the man asked.

“Because that `demon',” Logan shouted at the man, “has saved more lives and given more to this world in the past five years than we will in our entire lives.” His claws flashed out at the man. Logan turned back to Annie. “Hook me up now, or I'll cut open my wrist just so he can heal.”

“W-what's wrong with him?” Hermione finally got open.

“A vision,” the girl who brought Roland in said. Her hands were glowing, trying to heal his wounds, but it was a slow process. “He at least needs some blood. Even a pint will help.”

Annie turned to Logan. “Get in the bed next to him; we'll have to hope that your blood matches.”

Logan practically flew over to the other bed, he just so fast and far. “It will.” He was laying down, pulling his sleeves up, preparing for the transfusion.

A thought struck Harry as he watched all this. Ron. His best friend of five years was still missing. “Hermione, I'll be right back,” he got up and walked over to Roland. Grabbing him by the shoulders, Harry lifted up the man and glared at him. “Where is Ron?”

“Harry, put him down,” the girl said, trying to remain calm. Annie had just come back with the equipment she needed, which fell to the floor when she saw Harry out of bed.

He felt his skin harden and even now, could see it darkening. The earth was flowing through him, giving him power. “Harry for God's sake, just put him down; we'll talk about this later.” Logan seemed worried about this man, but this man had Ron and right now, Harry was betting that if Roland died, Ron would go free.

Roland didn't respond, he just held up a hand and a dark portal opened up. Open came tumbling Ron, bruised and in torn cloths, but alive. Harry dropped Roland with a loud thud onto the bed. He rushed over to Ron. Other than a few bruises, he was none worse for the wear. But he kept on muttering, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” Harry helped his friend over to a bed, where Ron lied down and just stared up.

“Don't worry,” Professor Xavier came rolling in, “we'll take care of them.” He looked up at the couple standing in the door way. The man was in shock, while the woman seemed quite amused. “Jean, can you help Ms. Granger find some cloths? Scott, same with Mr. Potter?” Logan glared at Scott with all the hatred in the world, but Harry couldn't figure out why. This had nothing to do with Roland.

Hermione had gotten up and was standing behind Harry now. She slowly slipped her hands around his waist and almost hid behind him. The fear was echoing off of her, it wasn't of the woman, it wasn't of Roland, it wasn't even of Ron. It was the man with the brown hair and the red visor. There was this darkness around him that Harry saw that he couldn't explain. A darkness that evoked the primal aspects of Harry's power.

You'll be safe, a calm voice echoed in Harry's mind. It seemed like so familiar, almost like that of a woman who he knew so long ago. No harm will come to you or your soulmate. Harry looked directly at the red-haired woman. She was smiling at them, hoping that they would come along.

“You will be safe,” Roland's voice echoed in the room. “I'll make sure of that.” No one else, save Hermione, the red haired woman and Logan heard the noise, as their eyes focused in on the bloody man. “Death won't be swift enough.” Whether Roland was talking about Harry or himself, the boy-who-lived didn't know. But the pain and agony that came with that statement told him much.

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Chapter 19: Wrong move….

By: the Dark Aeon, Chronos the Fallen

Author's Note: … … … yeah… same credit due to where it is needed.

Hermione sighed deeply, pulling herself closer to Harry if possibly. They were already wrapped together tightly, but she just couldn't get enough of him. She buried her face in his chest, smiling as she took a deep breathe of the smell that she knew was Harry. Harry stirred but didn't wake up.

They had a long day yesterday, but Hermione was glad they worked through it. She couldn't remember what they fought over, only that afterward, their relationship was stronger. She moved her trunk of cloths into his dorm room and refused to leave until he accepted that she was sharing a room, and now, a bed.

One of the best things besides just being with Harry was finding out that Roland had saved the majority items from her parent's house, which was destroyed. Photographs, books, china, almost everything. There were a few things, like the giant furniture, but he was able to carry a few of the chairs, especially the one from her room. The items that Hermione wasn't using were stored in a room down by Roland's dorm. He had taken over a wing, saying it was for important `Hunter business,' whatever that meant.

But right now, Hermione didn't care about anything, save her pillow was starting to move. “Harry James Potter,” she whispered, but her boyfriend froze. “Don't you move until I'm ready to get up.“ her eyes never opened, but she knew that Harry was smiling.

His hand came up and began to pet her hair. It was soft and curly, no longer this giant mess of brown, which Hermione was thankful. Harry brushed it out for her the night before. She decided that they were going to make it a ritual, even when they go back to school. Hermione was going to search for a way for her to stay with Harry at night. It wasn't like they were doing anything other than sleeping… yet.

“Hermione?” Harry asked softly.

“Hmm?”

“I need to use the rest room,” he replied. “I promise I'll be right back.”

“Oh, fine,” Hermione sat up, defeated. Now she was never going back to sleep.

“Besides,” Harry said as he entered the bathroom. “I have to hunting with Logan anyways. He said I have to be ready at eight.” Harry came out quickly, and smiled at the sight of Hermione wearing his pajama shirt.

“Fine, its six now, we're sleeping.” She opened her arms like a child, welcoming Harry back into them. He smiled and joined her gladly.

“Thank you,” he said softly as they got comfortable again, her head upon his chest, his arms around her.

“For what?”

“For being the best present a boy can get.” Hermione smiled. Despite all the evil that happened and all the pain they had, he found the best in everything. Maybe that was part of the reason why she loved him so much. Hermione rested her head back down on his chest and smiled. After all her pain, she had something good in her life, something worth dying for.

For a while, they lied there, finally going back to sleep before Logan burst into the room and woke both of them up. “What if I was undressed?” Hermione practically yelled while she pulled the blanket up despite wearing Harry's oversized shirt. Harry was trying his best not to smile.

“But you weren't,” Logan replied, a cigar hanging out of his mouth, “besides, it won't be nothing I haven't seen before.” He pointed at Harry. “Best get moving, it's an hour flight up to where we're hunting.”

“Kay,” Harry got up, but not before Hermione pulled him back down, and kissed him with all of her being. Harry almost stayed there just because of that kiss.

“Enough, he needs this, missy,” Logan said. “Ya got twenty minutes to get ready before we leave, wear something light enough to move around.” Harry nodded. Logan closed the door, and Harry gave Hermione one more earth-shattering kiss before grabbing a flannel shirt and a pair of blue jeans. And rushing into their private bathroom.

Hermione sighed and collapsed back unto their bed. It had been a long day, with her crying herself asleep around three o'clock then making up with Harry at seven. She still had no idea why she was mad at him. Still, spending the day with Jean and Heather was interesting, teaching her how to properly work her hair and everything. Not that she was ever into that kind of thing, but Hermione didn't want to be around her books and the women wouldn't take no for a minute. Roland was in his library, one that he wouldn't show her, and couldn't be disturbed.

Harry came out of the shower, his shaggy black hair hanging behind his head. The flannel shirt hung close to his body and was open, showing the hours of exercise and Quidditch was good for the body, and the jeans… Hermione shivered at her deprived little thoughts. “Something wrong?” Harry asked, still drying his hair. He hung up the towel and began to button his shirt.

Hermione smiled at Harry and stood up, Harry's shirt coming just above her knees. “Nothing,” she replied, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Everything is perfect.” Harry's arms curled around her shoulders, and he kissed the crown of her head.

“Good, cause I'd hate to have another fight like we did yesterday,” Harry said.

“We are going to fight, it's just a matter of being able to make up.”

“Do you even remember what the fight was about?”

“Of course I do,” Hermione looked down and blushed slightly. She was a terrible liar, but then again so was Harry.

“Okay, I believe you,” Harry smirked and pulled Hermione's head up for another kiss. His lips touched hers softly, their breath mingling, before he fully descended upon her. Hermione nearly melted in Harry's arms, and they were the only thing that was holding her up now, as her feet gave out on her. Harry chuckled as he pulled back. “I can't get enough of you.” He rubbed his cheek against her soft bushy hair. “You're like a drug for me. One that gives me life and joy.”

Hermione sighed. She loved being like this, just in Harry's arms and the world perfect. But sometimes it needs to end. “go before I forbid you to leave.” She knew Harry needed this exercise with Logan. It was intended to get his animalistic mutation under control and despite how much she loved it when Harry did transform into his lion-like form, he needed this.

“Since when can you boss me around?” Harry asked pulled away, with a playful smirk on his face.

“Since I did it before we are going out.” Hermione smiled and with a great weight on her heart, pushed Harry toward the door. “Now go so you can come back and have fun with me later.”

“What we doing later?” Harry turned his head to look at his girlfriend.

“Swimming. And I have the best bikini for the occasion too.” She closed the door leaving a bemused Harry standing there. She heard the airwaves shake as Logan came bounding up the stairs. Sighing, and already missing her boyfriend, Hermione lied back down on the bed. It was going to be a long day.

Around eight-thirty, Hermione got sick of being in their room alone and headed for the cafeteria. Usually she ate breakfast with Harry and they had it in their private quarters, but today with Harry gone, she had to eat in the cafeteria. Upon entering, her wrost fear came to life.

Standing before her was a tall Asian girl who sorely reminded Hermione of Cho. She had long black hair that was perfect. She had a slim perfect figure. Even the way she walked was perfect. And Merlin did Hermione hate her. She remembered why she got into a fight with Harry in the first place and it was all because of that girl.

Harry and Hermione were suppose to go out for a long nature walk after their training for the day. She ran back to her room to change out of her work out outfit, and when she came back to Harry's room, she saw that girl planted all over Harry. When the girl pulled away, she said some nasty things, but Hermione ran away before she heard the rest of them. She ended up crying herself asleep in her room, after casting a silencing charm and locking charm on it. Harry was too distressed to realize to use his wand, for after all, Hermione did run away in tears. Around six when Roland entered her room through the wall, he finally was able to talk to her and convince her to go to dinner. When she came down, she found Harry with a romantic dinner for her. He explained the whole thing and in the end, Hermione ended up in tears again, grateful to have Harry back. She over-reacted and assumed that he was going to leave her. She didn't know why she thought that way, she just did.

But know all that she could think was how angry she was at the girl for forcing herself upon Harry like that. The girl of course smiled gracious and walked up at Hermione when she saw the brown-haired girl. “Why hello dear,” she said. Somehow, this girl reminded Hermione of Umbrage when she spoke, and that was a scary thought. “I must say, I'm surprised to see such a handsome boy go out with a bookworm like you.” The girl entourage laughed at the crack, but Hermione stood strong. She started to say something about not being a book worm, when the girl pointed at book in Hermione's hand. She blushed at it, realizing how it did make her look like a bookworm.

“So what if I am,” Hermione said, pushing herself past the girl.

“Well, as I was telling Harold was it?”

“Harry,” Hermione corrected the girl, but she knew that the girl knew Harry's name.

“Harry, right, as I was telling Harry, I just can't see why he is going out with such a plain girl. Honestly, honey, you have almost no beauty.” Hermione tried to hold back the tears and was ready to reply when someone did for her.

“Pity, I could say the same for you, Candice,” Roland walked up and placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder. Hermione felt herself calm down and look at the hand. It was glowing purple. “Harry was a wonderful ability to see into people's souls. But I doubt he needed it to see Hermione's natural beauty.” She blushed at the comment, while Candice fumed. “Now, if you excuse us, I intend to enjoy breakfast with my cousin.”

“Yes, Professor,” Candice replied. She gave one final glare at Hermione before storming off.

“Professor?” Hermione repeated and looked up at her blind cousin.

Roland chuckled. “I give music lessons to a few of the students along with being a mentor to a few of more disturbed ones.” He shrugged. “C'mon, you can enjoy breakfast with me, Heather and Jean in the teacher's lounge.”

“But-”

“I won't take no for an answer.” Roland lead Hermione away from the cafeteria to the teacher's lounge a few doors down. She was grateful for him coming to her rescue. It was always like that, but she hadn't broken down like that ever. Hermione was strong, strong enough to over come some silly words spoken by a fool.

“What's-” Hermione couldn't bring herself to give that girl a name. “Her power?”

“Candice's power is that of empathic projection. Say she wishes to for you feel sad, she'll make you. Any feeling, even ones she's not feeling. Along with this secondary mutation, she can make herself appear as a perfect girl in people's eyes. I've had a few secessions with her, and seen her real form, as have you.”

“You mean, she really looks like that?” Hermione asked. Roland nodded.

“But of course, I've seen her soul, so it doesn't matter then, now does it.” He opened a door and led Hermione into the teacher's lounge, where Scott Summers and Emma Frost were talking about something. Scott was tall and well built, his brown hair hiding most of his ruby visor. Emma had short blond hair and was wearing an almost revealing white outfit.

“What's she doing here?” Emma immediately asked. She had just returned from Los Angles, bringing a few new students for the up and coming term. “And what was she doing that caused one of my students to get upset?”

“Relax, Emma,” Roland said, walking straight past the woman.

“You aren't a professor here, despite what Xavier may say,” Emma glared at Roland. “And I still don't know why he would want a demon like you here.” Roland paused. “You cause more problems than you help solve.” Roland shook his head and continued walking. “You are a waste of space, a piece of trash that shouldn't even be allowed to live. Everything you touch is destroyed by your corrupted soul. You are a god-forsaken piece of-”

“Emma enough,” Scott said, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder. “We need to exempt from these pointless shouting matches and set a example for the students. Not yelling each other.”

“It seems you have grown up a bit Scott.” Jean had just entered the room and quickly walked over to an empty table where Heather was sitting watching the whole thing. “Pity it happened so late in our relationship.” Hermione learned yesterday that before Jean's rebirth she was married to Scott, but their marriage was deteriorating. So Scott had moved on, to Emma precisely.

“We've discussed this, Jean,” Scott replied, but the red-haired woman made no attempt to listen.

“She shouldn't even be in here.”

“Guests of a teacher are allowed in the teacher's lounge,” Roland quoted. “You said that did you not, Emma, when you brought the news team in this school? Despite the many requests that no one of the outside should see what we do here.”

“See it's thinking like that that keeps you in the Stone Age.”

“And it's thinking like yours that kept African Americans in slavery.” Roland grabbed Emma's hand before she slapped him. All Hermione could do was watch. “And we've had this conversation before, don't hit me.”

“Hermione, why don't you come here and get some breakfast while Roland acts all big and tough.” Heather waved down her and she quickly came to the table. At it already were plates filled with pancakes and fruit. Some of the food looked exotic, while other pieces looked plain. It was the combination of all the smells that almost made Hermione faint. She had never smelt something that wonderful, next to Harry.

“Who cooked all of this?” Jean asked, as she sat down next to Heather.

“Roland likes to have fun in the kitchen, so he tends to just create whatever comes to mind.” Heather smiled as she took a piece of the cake in front of her. “Don't worry, its real good.”

Hermione grabbed a muffin and pulled her legs up onto the chair with her. She wasn't really hungry. Stealing a look of Roland and Emma still arguing about something was odd, she felt like he was looking in upon an intimate moment. “Land, turn it off.” Heather smiled as she shouted it.

“Huh?” Roland replied. “Oh, sorry. Just tends to go on when I get all worked over bigots.” He closed his eyes and focused and that feeling of intimately was gone. Giving an odd look at Heather, she smiled.

“Its part of his aura,” she said, “ Really interesting when you can ignore it and watch other people get affected by it.”

“How long are they going to argue?” Hermione asked.

“Well, since Logan isn't here,” Jean said. “Another hour or so. Logan tends to skip the words and start fighting right away sometimes. Looks like Roland is picking up the slack.”

“For you?” Hermione asked, and the old woman nodded with a hint of sadness in her eyes. Her break up with Scott had hurt her a great deal, and it looked like as long as Logan was there, she was doing better. Hermione nodded and went back to eating her muffin. She was lost in her own world and was quickly pulled out of it before Roland came flying through the air only to land hard on the table, shattering. He lied there a moment, rubbing his jaw. Hermione looked up to see Emma in this reflective diamond like suit. “Emma!” Jean stood up quickly; her drink had almost spilt upon her lap.

“That bastard-” she was ready for another attack, while Roland hadn't moved up from the ground.

“That bastard as you so kindly put it, can not speak anything but the truth,” Heather bent down and placed a hand on Roland's forehead. “And you can stop the psychic attack as well.” Emma smirked. “I figured you learn how to some day.” Roland stood up slowly, bracing Heather's shoulder for support.

“Jean, you ready for your trip?” Roland asked, not taking his eyes off of Emma. She nodded. “Kay, take the `Stang.” He tossed a pair of keys and Jean easily picked them up with her telekinesis. “Hermione, Heather, you go too, I'll be fine.” Heather gave Roland a glare before kissing his softly upon the lips. Hermione felt a bit upset about leaving her cousin like this, but she really didn't want to watch them fight.

She followed the two older women, still taking small pieces of her muffin and popping them into her mouth. She missed Harry and just wanted to be in his arms. There was no where safer for her, especially after what happened three days ago. “Hermione?” Heather asked; she had stoped walked and was looking at the girl.

“Hmm?”

“Do know the other reason besides for Harry that Roland recommended this?” Hermione shook her head. “Its because you can't depend on him for the rest of your life, you have to be independent.” Hermione started to speak up. “Believe when I say this, dear. As much as you love him, it would hurt him more to know that you cannot function without him. He would want you to be yourself before all this happened, not something that clings to him everywhere he goes.” Hermione closed her eyes and thought back. The speech was familiar, like someone had something along the same lines before.

“Roland.” Hermione's eyes opened up at the connection. “He said something about that…” she trailed off as the rest of the conversation came back. “Was it true what he said?” Heather nodded and was immediately hugged by her. “I'm sorry to hear that happened to such a wonderful person.” She was close to sobs and Hermione couldn't understand why it was that way.

“It appears someone has a bit of empathy.” Heather smiled as she looked up at Jean.

“Joy,” Jean replied with a smile. “It better be easier to control than Roland's. I heard it took like three weeks just for him to stop projecting.”

“That was when he got here,” Heather said. “Two years living with it was hard enough.” Hermione pulled away slightly and watched as the woman talked. “But then again, I hear that his anger is nothing compared to Logan's.”

“Well, yes, at least Roland can control his anger sometimes. Logan's an animal.” Heather raised an eyebrow at the woman, causing Jean to blush brightly. “You ready to go?” Jean asked Hermione, who was still attached to Heather. Nodding, the Perfect Prefect let go and they headed out for a long and wonderful day of nothingness.

Six hours later, and a car filled with bags, along with three very happy women returned to the house. Hermione couldn't' remember when she had that much fun with a group of females before. All the girls at Hogwarts were never like this. They weren't… cool for the lack of a better word. At school, all they did was talk about was makeup, boys, and other things. Here… well, they did the same thing, but it was different, Hermione knew that much. She couldn't explain it; she just knew that she would become better friends with these people.

When they pulled up, Hermione saw Roland talking to a rather tall red-haired boy. He was wearing a long coat that dragged against the ground. After a few minutes of watching the mannerisms of the boy, she realized that it was Ron. It had been three days since either Harry or her and seen him, and clearly something had changed. He had a few bruises on his face long with favoring one of his legs. One of his arms was held within the coat. As Hermione stepped out of the car, Jean placed a hand on the girl. “Talk to him, that's all he really wants.”

She looked up at her friend. “It's been hard for him the past few days, especially with what Roland has been asking of him.” Jean paused and sighed, realizing that Hermione was just going to ask more questions. “Its redemption Ronald seeks, you know that?” Hermione shook her head. “Well, he's Roland replacement when he dies.” Heather paused at that before just continuing over to Roland's arms.

Hermione nodded, and refused to allow those words to sink in. There would be time for that later, but now, she needed to worry about Ron. Slowly, her friend walked over to her, though he didn't have that usual smile on his face. He wasn't even looking up. And Hermione could tell that he was in pain, from the way he limped and from the grimace that was on his face. For some odd reason, Hermione didn't pity him. She wasn't mad at him, but she wasn't going to give him pity, not after what he did. “Hi,” he said, not looking up.

Ron had changed, his skin was pale, even paler considering his hair was a bright red now, instead of the normal dull red it usually was. There were little yellow tips to it, like flames. She figured it was a side effect from the fire. His face had a few cuts that were healing, along with a nice shiner on his left eye. Hermione didn't know what to say. “Its okay, I think its better if I just talk, and you listen.” Ron pointed toward the garden maze that was designed for training exercises. “C'mon, we can have some privacy in there.” He led the way, but the pain as he moved was deafening to Hermione.

“Ron, stop,” She said, stepping close to him. She pulled out her wand and whispered softly some healing spells. “It isn't the greatest, but it'll help.”

Ron chuckled, and for a moment, he almost looked like himself again. “Thanks, I didn't know any spells and Roland said he was terrible at them. Better at hurting people than healing them.” Ron chuckled again, and then coughed hard. “I'll be okay. I'm worried about you and what I did to you.” Leave it to Ron to be blunt.

“I'm getting better, Harry's helping me.” Ron smiled at her comment. “You're not mad at us?'

“When I first came out of the darkness, that anger was still there,” Ron said, walking in front of Hermione. “Roland put me back in the darkness, but this time it was different. The next time I was on a cobble stone path. He showed me the Library, Hermione.” It sounded familiar. “He showed me it, and showed me the future.” Ron took a seat on one of the benches, while Hermione hung back, her arms holding herself meekly. “Every possible out come. Something like that can really do a man in.”

“What happened?” Hermione asked. She didn't move any closer though, remaining a few feet away.

“I saw you die so many times, I saw Harry die. Hell, I saw my own death. An infinite amount of possibilities in less than a moment. The only way to make a Weasley understand.” Ron chuckled, but he was crying. “I never meant to hurt you.” Hermione moved slowly to her friend. “Seeing all that can really change a man, you know. To know that you are the reason for half of the problems.”

“Ron?”

“Not a single time were we happy in the end.” Ron continued, laughing. “That just takes the cake doesn't it? Not a single time. You'd think at least once we'd be happy, but no. Bloody hell, watching the new Dark Lord rise didn't even beat that.” Hermione figured that it was one of the possibilities, but right now, it wasn't a problem. “I'm over you Hermione, you're my sister, I know that much. You were never meant to be mine, and I'm sorry for even trying to think that way. I just wanted something that the Boy-Who-Lived didn't have.” Hermione knew that Ron had a problem with his insecurities, and this was the first time that they really hurt him. “But this is what happens when you worry about yourself over bigger things in life.”

She sat down, and placed an arm around her friend. Somewhere today, she had forgiven him, and she knew Harry already had. He knew more than anyone else when it came to people, seeing how they truly were. That was one of the things she loved about her boyfriend. Hermione was about to say something to her friend when someone shouted “Stupefy!” effectively throwing Ron across the field and into one of the sides of the hedges.

Hermione stood up quickly, her wand up and pointed at the direction of the spell. At least ten Aurors were standing around them, wands out and watching her. She didn't recognize any of them. They were talking quickly, and Hermione reached out with her new mutant powers. “Boss, why do we have to get both of them. The boy's the only danger.”

“Minister said he wanted to talk to the girl. I just pray that she isn't hurt too bad.” An old man shook his head. “We may not like it, but you saw what happen to Jones.”

“Fine, lets just them and get out of.” Hermione heard enough to be worried and immediately opened her mouth, but a stunner took her out of commission. Her last thoughts were to Harry and how she wished he was here.

The plane touched down around three o'clock. Harry sighed as he stepped out, holding a bag of deerskin. Logan had the meat salted and ready for cooking, despite what Hermione would say, he knew she would love a pair of slippers and a blanket. They had left the bones for a scavenger to pick off of, along with the entails of it. Logan said it was best to take what was needed, the skin and the majority of the meat, and leave the rest for nature to use. It was a pretty good idea, besides, he couldn't really think of a way for them to use the rest of the deer.

As soon as he stepped off of the plane, he felt it. Just a feeling that everything was wrong. It was in the distance, but he knew that is was there. This wasn't about Voldemort either; it was something else. Something, someone… close to him. “Hermione,” it was but a whisper, but Logan heard it loud and clear. He turned just to see Harry dropping the bag and running toward the hedge maze and the gardens.

Jean was sitting quietly, reading one of the books that she had just bought, when she heard the explosion and several popping noises. It seemed so familiar, but then of course the Phoenix took over. She rose quickly and ran a few feet before the Phoenix decided that flight would be better. Just as she took off, she saw Harry come running around the corner. He had felt the pain the moment she was hit. The Phoenix didn't think it was possible, to see a true pair of soul mates together. Even though “Jean” didn't know much about the afterlife, the Phoenix knew more than anyone having seen it many times. Soul mates were meant to be found in the afterlife, not on earth. Not here.

The Phoenix floated over to the hedge, just to watch the last man disappear with Hermione. Harry came running through. He collapsed at the sight of his girlfriend missing. He knew; no one had to tell him anything. She left almost immediately; unable to deal with the pain the boy was feeling. She left Jean to handle it. The Phoenix was too new to life again to be able to come to grip with what Harry was feeling.

“Jean,” Harry said as she approached the boy. “Go get Roland.” He was bossing her around, but someway he was right to do so.

“Why?”

“Because he is her legal guardian,” Harry stood up with his emerald eyes aflame. His power was fluctuating, growing around him rapid. Logan made it there a few seconds after this occurrence, and paused outside of the maze. “Please, go.” Jean nodded and fly off, going to find the nearly window to the mansion. “Logan get the jet ready while Jean gets Roland.” His friend nodded.

Roland appeared out of thin air. He was just wearing a pair of black pants. “You know, they've taken Ron too.” Harry nodded, but at the moment, Hermione mattered more to him. Ron was going to fight his way through it, Hermione… Harry wasn't' sure if she fully recovered yet. “I can't travel that fair by my powers, so we are going to have to wait a bit.” Harry nodded again. “I'm sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault.” Roland looked down, not bothering to argue.

“She is my responsibility though, so I must take care of her.” Harry wanted to argue that it was his duty, but felt guilty for asking Roland to do this in the first place. If Voldemort laid a hand on her… “This isn't the work of Voldemort, Harry.” Roland had crossed the yard. “Do you recognize that smell?” Harry took a deep breath. It was familiar; it reminded him of a place though, not a person. “Its too clean. Like from a governmental building or a hospital.” Standing up, Harry knew where Hermione was.

“Logan'll have the jet ready by now.” Harry walked toward the hanger, determination on his face. He was going to save his family, even if it cost the rest of the world their leader.

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Authors' Note:

1. I AM NOT GIVING UP ON MY OTHER STORIES SO RELAX MY LOYAL READER (how ever few there are).

2. okay with that out of the way, I am making a decision to write the seven year like I would. My x-men and FMA story will continue, but this is something that I think needs to be done. After all… I am still rushing some things within my stories. Like them getting together. As much I as I want them together it must be nature.

1. ever wonder how dark a person can be… just asking.

4. I should have the next chapters out for both stories soon, so enjoy.

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