1. Prologue - Getting Away With Murder

Divinity Forensis

By: RogueBHS

Prologue - “Getting Away With Murder”

Author Notes: I’m not abandoning “Faith,” I promise, but this just jumped into my head, and I’ve been unable to shake it. So here it is. There will be some similarity between this and other fics, I’m sure. But oh well. The closest to this that I’ve read myself is “Moonlit Nights,” on Portkey. (Great fic, btw.)

This IS a vampyre/werewolf fic, based on the ideas used in the movie “Underworld.” There are other little pieces of ideas from other vampyre movies, even the classic “Dracula” and the newer “Van Helsing” movie. A few characters from the movie Underworld will make appearances here, so I guess that technically and all, this is a sort of crossover. But HP is the main verse being used here, so please, don’t run away screaming just because it’s a sort of crossover. Though its contents has little to do with this fiction, I’ve included Selene’s opening for the Underworld movie. *shrug* So…yeah.

Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own any of the ideas or characters from Harry Potter or Underworld. There are original characters involved, in minor rolls, which I do own, as they are my own RPG characters that I created. I’m also borrowing (with permission) a friend of mine’s male RPG characters, whom he owns.

Notice: Any songs or spells used in a chapter will be listed at the end of it, just as in “Faith.” Numbers in parenthesis indicates a song, letters in parenthesis indicates spells.

Full Summary: Harry’s summer at the Dursleys’ has never been worse; Vernon is drinking heavily, Dudley’s using him for a punching bag (again), and Petunia is acting like nothing is wrong. And the Order seems to have forgotten him completely, despite their claims at King‘s Cross Station. Can he survive the summer alone? Or will it take drastic measures to keep him alive?

Main characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin. From Underworld: Selene, Kraven, Viktor, Marcus, Amelia, Lucian, and Kahn.

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

“The war had all but ground to a halt in the blink of an eye. Lucian, the most feared and ruthless leader ever to rule the lycan clan, had finally been killed. The lycan hordes scattered to the winds in a single night of flame and retribution. Victory, it seemed, was in our grasp; the very birthright of the vampyres. Nearly six centuries have past since that night. Yet the ancient blood feud proved unwilling to follow Lucian to the grave. Though the lycans were fewer in number, the war itself had become more perilous, for the moon no longer held her sway. Older, more powerful lycans were now able to change at will. The weapons had evolved, but our orders remained the same; hunt them down and kill them off, one by one. A most successful campaign, perhaps too successful. For those like me, a death dealer, it signaled the end of an era. Like the weapons of the previous century, we too would become obsolete. Pity, because I lived for it.” - Selene’s opening thoughts - Underworld

__________________________________________________________________

“You’re sure its possible?”

“Yes. It’s simply a matter of finding the proper bloodline that now contains the virus, since the Corvinus families died out too long ago, with the exception of Marcus. And we’ve been through why he’s not a candidate.”

“I’m fully aware of that fact, thank you.”

Raising an eyebrow, the doctor looked askance at his old friend, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Indeed.”

__________________________________________________________________

Viktor’s Mansion, outside London-

Feeling the blood slide down her throat was like ambrosia, and Selene could sense her body energizing itself with every drop that passed her lips. The fact that she held the attention of Kraven and his circle of friends didn’t faze her in the least, despite the way he looked at her. For centuries ago, she had sworn she wouldn’t become one of Kraven’s women, and that was a vow she planned to keep. Though without her sire, Viktor, that was proving to be a more difficult task than it was in his presence. She would never understand Viktor’s choice to leave Kraven in charge of things, but until his awakening three days from now, there was really no way to ask him.

____________________________________________________________

Little Whinging-

“Somewhere beyond happiness and sadness
I need to calculate
What creates my own madness
And I'm addicted to your punishment
And you're the master
And I am waiting for disaster” (1)

The sound of shattering glass and cracking wood inside of Number four Privet Drive had the heads of neighbors turning to look at the house in surprise. Such sounds had become common since the return of the Dursleys’ charge, a freak boy who was rumored to attend Saint Brutus’ School. And while in the past, most had doubted that it was really the rail-thin black haired boy who was criminally inclined, the sounds coming from the house gave them pause. Mind you, it wouldn’t have surprised any of the neighbors if the sounds were really caused by that Dursley boy, Dudley, having a fit. It was a well-known fact that the boy was a brat, and absolutely despised not having his way. His gang of miscreants was known for going around beating up younger boys, and other despicable things. Yet the boy’s parents, Vernon and Petunia, didn’t seem to notice. Indeed, they turned their eyes to their nephew instead, and founds all of the faults that were actually their son’s, in the boy, Harry.

But the neighbors had no idea of what was really going on inside of Number four. If they had, more than one would have called the police. Or perhaps an ambulance as well. Granted the second the police or whomever knocked on the door, they’d have been told a well-practiced lie by Mrs. Dursley. But no lie, however well told, could have fooled someone who saw Harry as he was at that very moment.

“You worthless brat!” A swift kick was delivered to the backside of the boy as he knelt over a pile of broken glass, sending him flying into it, face first. Yet he let out no sound of pain, having learned just two days ago upon his return to Privet Drive that such things only fueled his uncle’s rage. Instead, he picked himself up off of the floor gingerly, half glad that his glasses were still up in his room on his desk. At least that meant he didn’t have to worry quite as much about eye damage. Though the fresh cuts on his face certainly felt bad enough as it was. Before he could get up and look in the mirror, however, Vernon’s fist caught him in the back of the head, effectively sending his already abused body into a wave of nausea at the loss of equilibrium.

The smell caught Vernon’s attention first, then the sight of his nephew vomiting all over the scattered pile of glass registered. And fueled his temper further. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing boy?!” His meaty fist reached out, and grabbed Harry by the back of the neck, pulling him roughly off of his knees.

It took everything Harry had to keep from retching again at the jolt of being pulled up in such a way. “Nothing, sir,” he managed to choke out. “I’ll clean it up.” He swallowed, ignoring the burning sensation in his stomach. “I’m sorry.”

“You bet you’ll clean it up. Your aunt has enough to do without cleaning up after your sorry ass.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry agreed, his tone more of a hoarse whisper than anything, due to the soreness in his throat.

The second his uncle’s hand released him, Harry was on his knees again, gasping in air. He heard the sound of his uncle stomping up the stairs, and then a door slammed. If he could, he would have sighed in relief, but he wasn’t sure his throat would take it. Leaning forward on his hands, he closed his eyes briefly, trying to compose himself before he attempted standing up. So it was a small surprise to open them, and find a glass of water setting on the floor in front of him. He looked up, squinting his eyes in the direction of the sink, only to see a pinkish blur that he assumed was his aunt. She must have come in as Vernon left, Harry thought. He certainly hadn’t heard her turn on the tap in the kitchen though.

Slowly, Harry picked himself up off of the floor, picking a piece of glass out of his left hand as he did so. He set the piece of glass on the counter, then turned, surprised to see his glasses sitting there when he knew he had left them up in his room. He slid the glasses on with only a small hiss as the metal slid over one of the cuts on his face. Turning, he saw his aunt clearly now as she busied herself with cleaning the kitchen counters. Her head was bent over her work, but a worried frown was evident, even from that angle. Though he half wished the worry was over his own condition, he was more than sure that her worry was for her husband and the way he was drinking so heavily Sighing, he moved towards the counter where the paper towels were, then looked up sharply when his aunt placed a hand on his arm.

“Just clean up the glass and mess, Harry.” She kept her voice near a whisper, obviously afraid of Vernon overhearing her taking away from the boy’s chores. “Then go water the lawn and flower beds.” Her eyes glanced towards the kitchen door before she added, “The fresh air should do you some good.”

Stunned, Harry only nodded, and proceeded to do as his aunt had told him. But all the while he was cleaning, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, his aunt didn’t have a part of her that wasn’t so bad after all.

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“[Chorus]
I feel irrational
So confrontational
To tell the truth I am
Getting away with murder
It isn't possible
To never tell the truth
But the reality is I'm getting away with murder
(Getting away, Getting away, Getting away)” (1)

“BOY! You get down here this instant!”

Oh great…Harry thought, what did I do now? Sliding gingerly from his bed, Harry put on his glasses as he called down the stairs. “Coming, Uncle Vernon.”

A pain in his legs as he stood had him sliding to the floor in a heap, and he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Obviously the use of a golf club to the back of his legs had done more damage then he’d thought yesterday. Mentally cursing the weakness of his limbs, though there wasn’t much he could do about it, he was starting to pull himself off of the floor when the bedroom door slammed open admitting Vernon. When his uncle spotted him on the floor, he let out a sound of anger from somewhere in his throat, drawing Harry’s attention to him. Another beating seemed eminent, and Harry tried to pull himself up faster, only to land in a heap again. His legs just wouldn’t hold up even his meager weight.

Enraged, Vernon stomped across the room, and hauled Harry up by the neck. “Stupid boy. Think you’re going to get out of chores do you? Well I’ve got news for you…”

Vernon continued to rant as he very nearly carried Harry out of the room by his neck, stopping at the top of the stairs. “Get down there and help your aunt!”

The second Vernon’s hand released his neck, Harry felt his knees buckling again, and grabbed futilely for the balustrade of the stairs, only to feel a meaty hand pushing on his back. His first yell had Petunia rushing from the kitchen, her eyes watching in fear as Harry tumbled down the stairs, hitting his head on nearly every other one. The second yell was softer, and followed shortly by a thud as Harry hit the wall on the first landing. A picture rattled on its nail, then came crashing down onto Harry’s head, the frame circling his neck a bit like a necklace. Petunia let out a muted scream, and then looked up at her husband who seemed shocked at the results of his pushing the boy.

“Vernon,” she pleaded, “what on earth have you done?” She glanced at Harry, and then back to her husband, who was now looking at her, clearly surprised to see her there. “If he’s…dead…” the word came out in a whisper, “those people…they’ll do the same or worse to us! You heard them at the train station. They’ll be expecting to hear from him!”

Cautiously, Vernon made his way down the stairs, then knelt down at the boys side, checking for signs of life. His eyes seemed sunken and worried when he looked up into the worried gaze of his wife. “I can’t find a pulse.”

Shock registered first, then fear, and the latter had Petunia backing into a wall and sinking to the floor. Shaking hands covered her mouth as she looked at the still form of her nephew, whom she had promised to care for 15 years ago. And for the first time in those fifteen years, she felt that she had failed in the task. In fact, she was quite certain she had failed miserably. “Vernon…” Her eyes raised to her husband, who was now standing up, his own back against the wall, eyes fixed on the lifeless form below him. “Vernon,” she repeated, finally drawing his gaze to her again. “We have to do something. I can write Dumbledore, tell him Harry is ill and told me to write the letter. Explain it’s a simple cold.”

Vernon nodded mutely, then bent, picking up Harry just as the front door opened, admitting Dudley into the hall. His son’s eyes fixed on Harry’s form, thrown like a rag doll over Vernon’s shoulder, then moved to his mother. “What happened?”

“Harry fell down the stairs, Dudley. Your father’s going to take care of it. Go to your room, and I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

Dudley seemed to accept this for now, and edged past his father on the stairs. Once his bedroom door was closed, Vernon went down the last four steps, then into the kitchen, Petunia hot on his heels. She grabbed a rag and dampened it in the sink, then hurried back into the hall to clean up the blood on the wall and to pick up the remnants of the fallen picture. With her gone, Vernon headed into the backyard, then dumped his burden under some hedgerows alone the fence. Once he was satisfied Harry was well hidden, he turned, feeling little remorse over the death of the young wizard. But the fact that without careful planning, he’d have a house full of fully grown wizards had him plotting an escape. He would not allow them to do wreck his well constructed life, thank you very much. And with that in mind, Vernon strode purposefully into the house, yelling for Petunia.

__________________________________________________________________

Four days after the accident -

“I drink my drink and I don't even want to
I think my thoughts when I don't even need to
I never look back cause I don't even want to
And I don't need to
Because I'm getting away with murder” (1)

Dumbledore,

I’m sorry for not writing to you sooner, but Vernon has been watching me like a hawk. Two days ago, Vernon pushed Harry down the stairs at our home, and I’m not quite sure of Harry’s condition. Vernon didn’t find a pulse, but he was drunk at the time, and I don’t know if he actually knew what he was doing. You must check on him. He should be in the back yard, near the fence. Tell him I’m sorry for not intervening. I have no excuse, other than sheer fear of what my husband might do. Please let me know if he’s alright when you can.

Petunia Dursley

Albus Dumbledore sat back in his chair, scanning the note in front of him. Hedwig had arrived with it barely five minutes ago, and was now resting next to Fawkes on the phoenix’s perch. Frowning deeply, he rose and walked around his massive desk, going to the fire. Taking a handful of powder from the pot next to the fireplace, he threw it in, speaking clearly as he stepped into the now green flames. “12 Grimmauld Place.”

The world around him seemed to revolve faster and faster, finally slowing down a few seconds later. He stepped out from the fireplace of 12 Grimmauld place gracefully, quickly taking stock of who was present.

As it was dinner time, Molly Weasley was busy at the stove, putting the finishing touches on what was to be not doubt, a superb dish. Her husband, Arthur, was carrying a dish of potatoes over to the table, carrying on a conversation with Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks. At the far end of the table, the Weasley twins, Fred and George were bent over a piece of parchment, no doubt thinking up a new invention for their joke shop. While next to them, Ron and Ginny were talking rather animatedly about Quidditch, and Hermione listened in, obviously bored with the topic. But the second the flames roared to life, admitting Dumbledore into the kitchen, all conversation stopped and all heads turned towards him. For the first week and a half of summer, his presence at the house had been rare, as he had his duties as Headmaster of Hogwarts to take care of. So this sudden appearance meant something big had happened.

“Remus, Alastor, I need to speak with you in the study. Now.”

With a flick of his robes, Albus lead the way up the stairs and into the first floor study, followed closely by the two he had named. The second both were in the room, he shut and locked the door with a flick of his wand, then added a silencing charm for good measure.

“I need you to go to Privet Drive immediately. Harry’s been injured, and needs to be brought back here, or depending on his exact condition, to St. Mungos. I’ll leave that decision up to you. He may be in the backyard, but search the entire area if need be. Now go.”

The two men in front of him nodded, and apparated almost immediately. With a sigh, Dumbledore headed back to the kitchen to wait for information. Hopefully all was well with Harry. But if it wasn’t…There was a brief flicker of anger in the normally twinkling blue eyes. Merlin help Vernon for laying a hand on the boy, for he had a host of protectors. And Dumbledore wasn’t known as the greatest wizard of the age for nothing.

__________________________________________________________________

Privet Drive, same day -

When Remus and Alastor arrived at Privet Drive, both hurried towards Number four. From the front, the house seemed abandoned, and when then entered the home, there was no difference. Furniture and personal effects were still laying around, but it was obvious from the state of the bedrooms that someone had packed in a rush. Harry’s Hogwarts trunk was still at the foot of his bed, and they didn’t bother searching through it other than to make sure he wasn’t in it. Outside in the backyard, their search again proved fruitless. But under the hedgerows near the fence, they found footprints that seemed somewhat recent.

“He’s been here…two days ago or so,” Remus said, sniffing the air. And not for the first time, the thanked Merlin that the enhanced senses of his werewolf form carried over into his human form.

Behind him, Moody nodded, looking around with his magical eye. “Not anywhere around here now, though.”

Sighing, Remus stood straight and glanced at Moody. “We need to inform Dumbledore, and get others to help us search the area.”

With another nod from Mad-Eye, the two apparated to the street outside the Headquarters for the Order, then hurried inside when they were sure the coast was clear. Dumbledore was seated at the kitchen table, simply enjoying a cup of tea when the two men burst into the room. His blue eyes looked up sharply, and when the door banged against the wall, all others in the room turned to see what was going on.

“He’s not there…”

“What?” Mrs. Weasley asked, looking curiously between Dumbledore and Remus.

Sighing, Dumbledore turned his eyes to those seated at the table. “It would seem that our young Mr. Potter has gone missing.”

And with those words, Hermione felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. If Harry was missing, and Dumbledore hadn’t realized it till today…Then Merlin only knew what had happened to him.

Oh god…let him be alright…

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A/N: Sorry for the shortness of this, but I can’t end it elsewhere and have it fit in with how I’ve got this planned. So…look for another chapter when I can get it in. I do need to finish Faith’s next chapter first though.

Oh…and for those who are wondering about the whole Hedwig taking a note from Petunia to Dumbledore thing, here’s my idea on that:

Vernon has taken his wife and son out of the country. Hedwig was unable to find Harry through some fluke when she returned from hunting one night, and as such, searched out the Dursleys. Petunia kept Hedwig hidden the first few hours, then while Vernon slept, she wrote the note to Dumbledore and sent it with Hedwig. I’d imagine it would take Hedwig around two days at least to fly from France or somewhere to Hogwarts, and that’s if she flew nearly all night too. There may be discrepancies in the timeline here, but I’ve got a lot to fit into his summer, so therefore part of the timeline would have been off anyway. Thanks for reading!

2. A Dying, Broken Man

Divinity Forensis

By: RogueBHS

Chapter 1 - “A Dying, Broken Man”

Author Notes: Well, Prologue got a decent response, so let’s get this chapter rolling shall we? Thanks to all my reviewers, and I’m glad you enjoyed it! Also, HUGE thanks to Caryn, a friend from FF.net. Without her help, the accuracy of the locations in this story would be WAY off, and the story would have had a much less interesting title. So thanks Caryn!

Oh…and to anyone who lives in the UK or whatever, sorry about the whole money thing. I’m so used to dollars and cents here in the States, and I swear…the internet search sites were no help at all in getting a good idea of taxi fares or any of that. *frowns*

All locations listed are based on the information at HP Lexicon.com. Just as a warning, I update around once a month. Between working on this and my other story Faith, as well as real life (which is busy for me this summer), it’s going to continue on that pattern I’m afraid. So please don’t review asking why I take so long. I’m 20 years old and basically running my parent’s house, as my mom is sick at this time and waiting on a liver transplant. I work on my two HP stories as much as possible, as I do have a lot of ideas for them. Not to mention some ideas for alternate versions of chapters or one-shots that I have been jotting down so they don’t just run rampant and make me loose track of where I’m trying to go with these. Trust me; I have two people that ask me constantly when I’m updating again, so I won’t be forgetting about these anytime soon!

Notice: Any songs or spells used in a chapter will be listed at the end of it, just as in “Faith.” Numbers in parenthesis indicates a song, letters in parenthesis indicates spells or excerpts from the books.

Full Summary: Harry’s summer at the Dursley's has never been worse; Vernon is drinking heavily, Dudley’s using him for a punching bag (again), and Petunia is acting like nothing is wrong. And the Order seems to have forgotten him completely, despite their claims at King‘s Cross Station. Can he survive the summer alone? Or will it take drastic measures to keep him alive?

Main characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin. From Underworld: Selene, Kraven, Viktor, Marcus, Amelia, Lucian, and Kahn.

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“Every night
You wrote another line
With a bloody, broken, bottle
And every day
You wish it away
Why don't you pull the pin
On that grenade
You cuddle

I wanted to believe
Bodies swinging from trees
Struggling to stand
With your head in your hands
A stoic last stand
Of a dying man” (1)

Privet Drive, two days after the Dursleys left -

Oww…what on earth? Harry sat up from under the hedgerows, feeling as if every inch of him had been beaten with a beater’s bat. Slowly, the memory of being pushed down the stairs and the splitting pain in the back of his skull returned, causing him to nearly cry out. Slowly, he reached back and touched the back of his head, and was glad to find that his skull seemed to be intact. Without his glasses, the world was blurry, and he felt around, finding them laying a few inches away. He slid them on, only to find the glass was broken. Reaching down, he slid his hand inside of his sock, relieved to find his wand still there and in one piece. Deciding that magic would be a bad idea, he sighed, and slid the wand back into his sock. He’d have to make due with them being the way they were. He looked towards the house, only to find that it was closed up tight. Frowning, he made himself stand, and walked to the house, trying the back door. Locked, naturally, Harry thought. Guess I’ll have to find another way in.

And with that in mind, he looked around, trying to find a possible point of entry. Naturally, the only possibility was his own bedroom window, which he kept unlocked so he could open it easily for Hedwig or other owls that came and went. So with a sigh, he hoisted a ladder from the shed, ignoring the way his muscles protested the action. Barely four minutes later, he was in his bedroom, looking around. Obviously the Dursleys were gone, but for how long? Well, he wasn’t going to stick around and find out. He’d been beaten enough this summer already, thank you. Picking up an old backpack, he stuffed his father’s invisibility cloak, the Marauder’s Map, some clothes, parchment and a pen into the bag. Digging deep into his trunk, he pulled out his bag of money, separating the Wizarding and Muggle forms as quickly as possible. After shoving the Muggle money into a battered wallet that had once been Dudley’s, he glanced at his bag of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. And deciding it was better safe than sorry, carefully wrapped a few of each coin into an extra sock, stowing it at the very bottom of the backpack. Setting that down, he glanced at his own clothes, which were covered in dust from lying outside so long. Well…he could at least take a shower before he left, right?

Half an hour later, scrubbed and dressed in clean clothes, he grabbed the backpack and headed down the stairs. The refrigerator caught his eye, and he realized how hungry he was. It was another half an hour before he finished the monstrous sandwich he’d made, and cleaned the plate he’d used. No need for the Dursleys to realize that he’d been inside when they returned, after all.

He was about to step out of the door when he stopped, realizing how reckless this was. Dumbledore would be furious if he left now. Well screw him! Harry thought I won’t take this any more. I’m not some dumb kid, after all. But then again…He glanced over his shoulder into the kitchen in indecision. Aww hell…they won’t miss it until it’s too late anyway, he decided, and headed back to the fridge, and added some fruit and bottled juice to his pack. A quick stop in the pantry added some crackers and a stop in Dudley’s room added candy bars. As he envisioned Dudley’s response to his candy being gone, Harry had to laugh. The pig is gonna hate me for this…more than he already does, that is.

And with his pack full, Harry snuck out of the back door, locking it back up behind him with the spare key from inside. He dropped the key into the postbox, and then headed off down the street, making sure to go the opposite direction of where Ms. Figg’s house was located. No need to get stopped before I even get out of the neighborhood, he reasoned. And despite the rest he’d had over the past few days, his legs were still sore from Vernon’s beating and his trip down the stairs, and seriously protested the walking. But there was no way he’d stop until he got far enough away from the house where he never felt safe. He was no stranger to pain, after all.

__________________________________________________________________

“Every night
The questions poured out
Of your wounded eyes
Damn dark things
Every day
You used to pray
Listen to the black raven sing
You wanted to believe
As you were falling to your knees
Struggling to stand
With your life in your hand
The sad last stand
Of a broken man

I wanted to believe
As I watched your world
Crumble in your hands
I wanted to believe
As you raised your glass
To your last stand
And I wanted to believe
You would win
The war in your head
That I did not understand
That I did not understand…” (1)

Two Days Later, around the time Dumbledore receives Petunia’s note -

Well…I guess that’s it for the juice…Harry thought, draining the last of a bottle of apple juice in one gulp. Sighing, he set the bottle back in his bag and let his eyes take in the park around him. Only a few feet away was a water fountain, which he’d later use to fill up the empty juice bottles. And behind him, he knew, was the kind family who’d shared a bit of their picnic lunch with him. They hadn’t asked any questions about why he was alone, much to his relief. But he was sure that they knew he was a runaway. Speaking of which… Dumbledore probably knows I’m gone too, Harry thought. Granted, the changes of Dumbledore finding him were fairly slim. Despite the weakness in his legs and body, he’d put a reasonable distance between him and Privet Drive.

Glancing at the street, Harry noticed a taxi pulling away from the curb, and frowned. He didn’t have a lot of money, but surely he could at least get a ride further away than he was. So after a few more minutes of rest, he pushed himself to his feet and shouldered his bag, then headed towards the road. And while it wasn’t the busiest road, he only had to wait ten minutes or so for another cab to pass by. Waving it down, Harry forced himself to jog to the car, and opened the back door, sliding in to the seat. Showing the driver one third of the Muggle money he had, he questioned, “Where can I get to for this?”

The driver took the money from his hand, and counted it twice before looking over his shoulder. “This should be enough to get you to Staines, or round about there. It is really dependin’ on the route an’ all.”

Leaning back in the seat, Harry nodded. “I’ve got a little extra if it goes over…so…Staines it is, I guess.”

“Alright. Be a little while, so hope you got somethin’ t’ keep yourself occupied.”

Sleep sounds like a winner, Harry thought, stretching out on the seat. Shoving his bag under his head for a pillow, he thought briefly of calling Hermione to let her know he was alright when he reached Staines, but barely a second later, his eyes were closed, and he knew no more as he slipped into sleep.

__________________________________________________________________

Hate t’ wake ‘em, but suppose there isn’t no way ‘round it, really, the cab driver thought as he put the car into park in front of a bus station. So he tapped the boy on the shoulder, and spoke to him. “C’mon, boy. Time t’ get out.”

Slowly, Harry roused, lifting his head from the makeshift pillow and looking around blearily. “We’re in Staines?”

“Yeah, that’s the bus station o’er there,” the man pointed out the passenger window. “Reckon they’ll be able t’ point ya where ever ya need to go.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, pulling a little extra money from his stash, and pushing it into the cab driver’s hands. “Call it a tip,” he insisted, when the man started to correct him on the fare, and only nodded when the man thanked him as well. Sliding out of the car, he hoisted the bag onto his shoulder and glanced around. There wasn’t a whole lot he was interested in, so he turned back to the bus station, and then headed inside, looking over the list of fares for travel. And while he could have easily just taken the Knight Bus, he didn’t trust Stan Shunpike, the conductor of the bus to keep his appearance a secret. In the Muggle world, however, he was just another face without a name and without importance. Stepping up to the window where the tickets were sold, he slid across the money for a trip to London, which nearly emptied his Muggle stash. But he wasn’t worried about that just now.

The next bus left in half an hour, so he headed towards where it was parked, currently being unloaded of previous passengers and their luggage. A soda machine sat back away from the main hustle and bustle of people, and the idea of something cool to drink was too tempting to resist. Around 20 minutes later, he boarded the bus, a bottle of grape soda tucked in his bag, and the second one in his hand, half gone already. Harry took a seat near the very back of the bus, tossing his pack into the seat beside him, ignoring the way a few people glanced at him. He was sure they realized he was a runaway, but the bruises on his arms were still not completely faded, and if anyone saw them, surely they wouldn’t try and make him go back.

Looking out of the window into the dying sunset, Harry sighed and shifted in the seat, bitterly wishing he’d had the strength to carry a book or something along with the absolutely necessities. I suppose this means I get another nap, he thought, then frowned at his reflection, realizing something he had forgotten. Or rather, someone; Hermione. She had sworn to get him out of the Dursleys’ presence soon, and what if she showed up at Privet Drive, only to find him gone? It’s too late now…I wouldn’t have the money to get back anyhow. I guess maybe I should call her when I get to London…if I had her phone number. Damn it all, this is stupid. She’d insist I write Dumbledore and go back, more than likely…unless I told her what that son of a bitch, Vernon, did. Sighing again, he leaned back into the seat, doing the best he could to stretch out his legs that ached something terrible from the walking the day before. Merlin what I wouldn’t give for a pain relieving potion right about now…

But his thoughts turned back to Hermione slowly, and he wondered if she’d look any different by the end of the summer, as she normally did. I wonder if she’ll have a slight tan again, he thought, she never did say what she’d be doing for her vacation. Yeah…and you never asked did you? Another voice jeered in his head. And it was true, too. Despite his friendship with her and Ron, he hadn’t bothered asking if they were doing anything interesting this summer. For that matter, he hadn’t sent Hedwig to them with a note to see how they were. Well, its not like they wrote me either, now is it? I mean, normally Hermione’s written me half a dozen letters by the time two weeks have past, or it seems like it anyway. As for Ron, well…surely he’d have some Quidditch stuff to talk about or something. Granted Ginny’s around the burrow still and she plays the sport too. Then a thought occurred to him. Perhaps they didn’t need him anymore. So long as Ron had someone to talk Quidditch with and play with occasionally, he’d be fine. And Hermione…well, she was ever the bookworm, right? So she’d find comfort in the pages of an old friend, while he was left alone again.

And it wasn’t as if he could blame either of them. He had put their lives in danger over nothing but a stupid dream he shouldn’t have had anyway. Hermione was right, he thought, I do have a saving people thing. Maybe…maybe its time I give it up. I mean, what’s the point? All along I’ve been saving others, but no one’s there to save me when I really need it, are they? Well, aside from my mum, but that shouldn’t count. I almost wish she hadn’t saved me. Not like I did anything to deserve being saved, is it? Besides…if not for me…she and dad and Sirius…they’d be alive…they’d be happy. Uncle Vernon was right, I am trash. I am worthless…

Despite the lighting on the bus, no one noticed the tears starting to fall down the teenage boy’s cheeks. They paid no heed to the bony shoulders shaking, or to the way he huddled into the seat. No one asked him if he was alright. No one cares…he thought. No one cares about the skinny little boy with a scar on his forehead.

‘No one but me…‘a soft voice answered, familiar and soothing.

But in his state of mind, Harry would later be quite sure he dreamed it. After all, Hermione was far enough away to be safe from whatever harm should befall him. So why couldn’t he shake the sound of her voice, so close as if she had whispered in his ear?

__________________________________________________________________

Once the bus arrived in London, Harry spent a few of his remaining pounds on a map of the downtown area, and set off for a marked youth hostel, praying that no one there would ask too many questions. His legs, though thankful for their break on the taxi and bus rides, made clear their disagreement with being worked so harshly again after their beating. It didn't matter, not one whit that it had been nearly three days since the beating occurred, as the pain still radiated through them, making Harry wonder if perhaps Vernon had done more damage than he had originally thought. The idea was enough to have him turning towards a Muggle hospital, and then he paused. Other than the truth, it would be hard to explain his injuries, and the fact that they had gone untreated for days now. And even in the Muggle world, Harry knew that there would be questions he was expected to answer…questions that would inevitably lead to his Uncle’s return, even if it was by force.

With that in mind, Harry turned back to the direction he needed to go in to reach the youth hostel, paying attention to the places and people around him. The few trips he had made into London always fascinated him, especially his first trip with Hagrid. But in the light of street lamps, Harry found the city looked very different. He thought that he might have passed the entrance to The Leaky Cauldron a few blocks back, but he wasn’t quite sure. Thankfully, if in fact it was the entrance for the Wizarding pub, no one had wandered out and found him there. That would have caused uproar to be sure.

After another mile of walking, Harry slid onto a bench outside of a boutique, giving his legs the rest they demanded. His eyes slid casually over those who passed, while he ignored the mildly surprised looks he received from adults. He was perfectly aware that they likely thought him a miscreant or properly pegged him as a runaway, but it didn’t matter. So long as they continued on their way, there was no reason to think hard on the matter. The sky around him grew darker, and high above, a clear, full moon shown down. He felt a brief pang as his thoughts fell to Remus Lupin, the last remaining tie he had to his father. With the moon so full, Remus undoubtedly was experiencing his transformation tonight, and Harry wondered if Snape had brewed a potion for him. He likely didn’t, unless Dumbledore asked, of course, Harry thought. Snape hates Remus as much as he did Sirius or my dad, despite the fact that Remus had nothing to do with the teasing as far as I know. Granted, it’s not like he did a whole lot to stop it either…

“Pale angel, go away
Come again some other day
The devil has my ear today
I'll never hear a word you say
Promised I would find a little solace
And some piece of mind…” (2)

The lyrics drifted from further down the street, coming from the dimly lit front of a local night club. Curious, Harry pushed to his feet again, heading in the direction of the music, entranced by the harsh music that accompanied the words. Something in the acidity of it touched the part of him that was angry and felt so alone. As he got closer, he spotted a couple not much older than he, walking in his direction, and the girl’s appearance caused him to do a double take. If not for the fact that he was quite sure that Hermione would have nothing to do with a club like this, he’d have sworn the girl was Hermione. Not to mention that Hermione wouldn’t wear clothes like that, he thought, taking notice of the extremely short black leather mini skirt and red satin halter the girl was wearing. Slowly, a grin fought its way onto his lips as he pictured Hermione in something like that. Granted, she would look damn good in it, I’d imagine…

Before his thoughts could continue down that path, a sharp pain had him gasping in shock, and the surprised shriek of a young woman registered in some part of his brain. Slowly, he realized that the guy whom had been walking with the Hermione look-alike had punched him hard in the face, sending him sprawling onto the pavement. Frowning, he looked up at the guy, fully intending to ask him what was going on, when a kick was delivered to his side, effectively knocking the breath out of him. His ribs were still a touch sore from his more recent experience as a punching bag, and this new injury had him wondering at his luck that his ribs hadn’t broken yet. He rolled away from the next kick as best as he could, causing the kick to connect with his tailbone rather than his ribs again. He let out a sound of pain, unable to fully summon up the anger that would cause an episode of wandless magic like he had performed many times in his childhood. This guy was simply defending his girlfriend, or so he thought anyway.

Harry tried to force his mouth to work, but the fresh injuries were making it hard to think about anything but the pain. Slowly, he realized the young man had left, and sighed as he struggled to pull himself into a sitting position. Blearily, he looked up, and was surprised to find a man standing over him, his hand extended. The man seemed odd and slightly out of place, with his long hair and scraggly clothing. But there was an odd resemblance to Remus that had Harry accepting the help up, praying that his knees wouldn’t buckle on him again. The man helped him over to the bench he had been sitting on, giving a weak smile; Harry motioned for the man to join him, but was surprised to find that he was alone. Odd…Harry thought, glancing around. I know he was real…so how in the hell did he go so fast?

Then another idea hit him…Was he a wizard? I mean, he disappeared so quickly, I suppose he could have disapparated or something. Oh Merlin…if he was…damn it all. I should have known something like this would happen. There’s plenty of squibs and muggleborns around who might be in London this time of night, after all.

But rather than stick around and have a mob of wizards after him, Harry ducked into an alley way, and hid behind a dumpster near the brick wall that forced the alley into a dead end. Leaning into the wall, Harry gingerly lifted up his shirt, wincing at the new bruises already starting to blossom over his side. He could still feel the pain in his face where the man had punched him, but thankfully, it was his cheek and jaw that were hit, not his nose. Merlin, that’d be just what I need on top of everything else…a bloody fucking broken nose. Sighing, he pulled at his bag, and dug deep, looking for the last apple he was sure was in here somewhere. Bloody hell, where is it? I know it was in here…Wait…what’s that noise?

Frowning, Harry looked around in the darkness, hearing a deep breathing, rather like that of a wild dog that didn’t seem too far away. Oh shit…if there’s a dog in here…

Before he could finish the thought, a loud footfall echoed down the alley, and Harry’s eyes swiveled around, looking frantically for the source. And once he found it, he wished to every god he could think of that he hadn’t. For there, not five feet away was a huge werewolf, its neon blue and pitch black eyes glinting as it sized him up, obviously finding him a decent meal. His previous experience with a werewolf had ended in an escape, but that was in the middle of nowhere, not a bustling city. And leaving the alley meant leading the werewolf into crowds of innocent people.

Bloody fucking hell…He reached for his wand, and then started when he realized it was missing from his sock. Shit…shit…double shit!

Slowly, a clawed hand wrapped around his neck, and Harry’s eyes darted up, and he immediately stopped scrambling to find his wand. Those eerie eyes were not a foot from his own, and he could smell the wretched breath of the creature.

__________________________________________________________________

The werewolf bent its head further over the boy, giving the closest thing to a smirk as was possible in this form as the smell of fear increased. He had been right when he sensed an easy kill, the boy barely put up a fight. And while normally he liked a little exercise with his meal, tonight he wouldn’t bother much with it. It was too long since his last kill, and unlike his vampire brethren he didn’t have the leisure of simply ordering up a glass of blood whenever he felt like it. Not to mention, that took the fun out of it.

Opening his jaws wide to fit around the neck and shoulder area of the boy, he pushed his head to the side, then sank his teeth in deep, enjoying the sudden rush of blood down his throat. He was about to close his eyes two minutes or so and a full two pints of blood later when the boy’s hair moved over his forehead, revealing a scar there. Frowning, he lifted his head, paying no heed to the fact that the boy was half dead beneath him, and now bleeding onto the alley floor. The scar was a lightning bolt. And as if dowsed with cold water, the werewolf pulled back, realizing what he’d done. Even in the realm of his kind, this boy was well known for his defeat of the same dark lord that was now asking for the aid of every Lycan den in England. Thankfully, the current wolfish form he was in was fixable, and with a thought, the wolf transformed back into the same man who had helped Harry off of the pavement after his fight. Frowning, Lucian wondered what on earth he was supposed to do with the boy.

I can’t leave him here, of course. Those damn mortals will find him if I do, and once it makes their news, the wizards will know their savior was killed by a lycan. Faced with a hard choice, Lucian eyed the boy again. It was obvious that without medical attention this Potter boy would have died anyway. But that would matter little to those in his kind’s Ministry of Magic, he knew. So, making a decision, he leaned down again and prepared to do the one thing that, unbeknownst to him, would change more than one life forever.

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((Ok, I totally thought of ending it there, but I’m in a good mood from finding a beta {POTTERGIRLAJG}, so here’s some more to this chapter!))

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Next afternoon, around 3 PM -

Harry awoke yet again in a place he wasn’t sure of. He expected to feel the aches and pains that come from lying on the ground all night to start to creep back into his body, but was astounded to realize that every ache he had been feeling before was gone. Frowning, he sat up and looked around at the area where he was, only to realize he wasn’t still in the alley. He wasn’t even sure if he was still in London, actually. The room was dark and cool, but as clean as one can get an old underground station. Slowly, he realized that he shouldn’t be able to see this well without his glasses, and reached around for them, only to come up empty handed. There was a movement nearby, and he turned towards the sound immediately, only to find the man from the night before walking in. Before he could stop himself, Harry questioned the man.

“Where am I? For that matter, who are you? And what happened to the werewolf?”

The second it was out of his mouth, he realized how stupid the last question sounded, but to his surprise, the man only smirked. “You’re in London still, Harry Potter, so don’t worry there. As to my identity and what happened to the werewolf, well…those can be answered in the same way. I am Lucian, and this is the home to me and a good many others like you and me.”

“What? Like you and me? How on earth am I…?” Harry trailed off as the man’s full sentences sunk in, and his eyes widened. “You’re…you’re the werewolf?”

“Indeed.” Lucian’s smirk widened as he took in the boy’s expression. “This old station is home to nearly a hundred of my kind, making us the largest den of Lycans in England. And as of last night, our number grew by one.”

“Last night?” Harry questioned, then slowly raised his hand to his shoulder where the werewolf he now knew as Lucian had sank his teeth in. “You turned me?”

Harry’s voice was soft, but he knew now it wouldn’t matter. He could smell his own fear at the mere idea, and it reeked horribly.

“Yes, I turned you. You were nearly dead anyhow, and lets just say you’re well known amongst my kind as well.” Lucian sank into a hard backed chair not too far away and let his brown eyes focus on the young man in front of him. “Your dark lord, Voldemort, has been after my kind for months, wanting us to pledge our allegiance to him in this war of his. And it doesn’t sit well with me. We Lycans have a war of our own to fight, and have no use for the spoils he says he’d give us.”

“You on the other hand, Mr. Potter, can offer us much more.” This last was said with a finality that surprised Harry, and he frowned.

“What on earth can I offer you?”

“Freedom.”

“Freedom?”

“Yes, Freedom.”

Lucian seemed bored with the whole thing, but there was a light to his eyes that was somewhat feral, exposing a hint of the wolf within. “We Lycans are hunted by wizard and vampire alike for being what we are. Because of it, we dare not walk the streets in daylight, despite the fact that unlike our Vampire cousins we have no aversion to it.” He leaned back into the chair, still staring down the boy on the cot. “We were slaves once…the daylight guardians of the vampires. Yet a good many of us bore them no ill will. I, myself, even took a vampire for my bride. And when I sired a child with her, her own father, a powerful vampire elder, had her burned alive by sunlight.”

Harry sat up, surprised at this news. “I’ve never heard anything about that in my History of Magic classes.”

“I’m not surprised. Wizards want little to do with Lycans. They feel we’re too violent…uncontrollable. And yet they have more trouble controlling each other than they do us.”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “That I know about.”

Frowning, Lucian raised an eyebrow. “And just how would a wizard like you, know of the troubles of a werewolf?”

“Remus Lupin…my former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He’s a werewolf. A lot of people wanted him fired from Hogwarts when they found out. But he’s a really good guy…an old friend of my dad’s.”

Harry couldn’t understand why he was sharing all of this information with the older man, but something about him still reminded him strongly of Remus. And that, perhaps, was a lot of the reason the two talked for nearly an hour more.

__________________________________________________________________

Harry frowned as he watched Lucian and Reyes transform into their lycan forms before his very eyes, despite the fact that a full week had passed since the full moon. Lucian was insisting on teaching Harry everything he knew, saying simply that if Harry was to use his lycan abilities to the fullest, he would be very strong indeed. So for the past week, he had been trained harder than ever in his life. The lack of need for a lot of rest, and his now more nocturnal body schedule was making things very odd indeed.

That, however, was the least of his changes. Since the night of his turning, Harry had grown to a rather massive six foot three, and gained what would have likely been an otherwise impossible amount of muscle on his frame. His hair was slowly lengthening, and was roughly to his chin all the way around. Though compared to the fact that a good many of the other Lycans had hair to their shoulders or a bit further, his wasn’t really that long. His new strength and agility still surprised him, and he amused a good many of the older Lycans with his acrobatics and other tests of his ability. As it turned out, he was the first lycan to be sired by Lucian in nearly a century, and the fact that Lucian’s power was greater than that of nearly any other werewolf made his changelings start out with more power as well. Of course, Harry found out as well that his being a wizard to begin with didn’t hurt.

Harry was very glad that it was another three weeks to full moon, as that meant more time for him to gain more control over his animalistic side. He already was craving a feeding, and Lucian assured him that if all went right, before the next full moon, he would be able to control the transformation as easily as the older werewolves. There was something about having fresh blood in their midst that was awakening the livelihood of these men, and it showed. Many were taking Harry under their wing already, and teaching him the ways to fight and survive as one of their own.

And perhaps it was this that had Harry slowly forgetting his former involvement in the Wizarding world. Day by day, his memories of that part of his life faded as his feeling of belonging strengthened. Within the den, Harry found a niche that felt comfortable, and with Lucian’s backing and protection, none would dare add to the emotional scars they all saw in the boy. But as the week lengthened into two and then a third, Harry’s body and mind changed even more. The way he carried himself was more straight backed and proud, and his mentality of being worthless changed into a feeling of power and belonging. Yet to the others he was still known as the pup because of his young age.

There was no denying, however, that Harry Potter was fast becoming a young man…and a serious force to be reckoned with.

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A/N: Ok, I’m ending this here. It’s after midnight, and my arms are killing me for being on the computer so much today. So look for a new chapter later. I’ll be out of town the weekend of June 9-12th. So it may be after that when I update. Sorry!

(1) - “Suicide Note” by Johnette Napplitano

4. Chapter 2 - When The Sun Goes Down

Divinity Forensis

By: RogueBHS

Chapter 2 - “When the Sun Goes Down”

Author Notes: The previous chapter didn’t do so well in the reviews department, but the few I got were encouraging. So here’s another. I do hope that it’s up to par, and with any luck, longer than the previous two. No promises however. Also, there is a good deal of OOC on the part of the Underworld characters, I know, but I'm mainly using them for my own ends, not to be exact replicas of their movie-counterparts. The main thing I wanted from Underworld was the idea of a true immortal, and the other characters simply give me a way to cut down the number of original characters I have to use. I know everyone hates Mary sues and the like. LOL.

Harry is going to be speaking a bit weird in this chapter, but that’s because if he talked normal, I really think people would pick up on who he is a lot sooner than they should. So please bear with me!

Full Summary: Harry’s summer at the Dursley's has never been worse; Vernon is drinking heavily and using him for a punching bag (again), and Petunia is acting like nothing is wrong. And the Order seems to have forgotten him completely, despite their claims at King‘s Cross Station. Can he survive the summer alone? Or will it take drastic measures to keep him alive?

Main characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin. From Underworld: Selene, Kraven, Viktor, Marcus, Amelia, Lucian, and Kahn.

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

As Harry’s third week in the lycan den drew to a close, Lucian felt that Harry’s overall control over his transformation was good enough to warrant a night out. It was only a few more nights till full moon, but the boy would need to know how to hunt eventually. And hunting as a human, Lucian informed Harry, drew far less attention than a huge wolf-man walking around and tearing into innocents. Most would lie the blame at the door of vampires, if they believed in such a thing, or would choose to ignore the bite altogether, and make up some cause for the death. Harry didn’t care for the idea of feasting on human blood, but in the middle of downtown London, finding livestock and such was not an easy feat. Rats might live there in abundance, but it would take over fifty of the rodents to quench a Lycan’s thirst, and to catch that many would take more energy than it was worth. But Lucian assured Harry that finding a human who was already near death was easy enough, and illness mattered nothing, as there were no diseases that would survive in a werewolf’s body. After all, it was a complex virus that sparked the entire change into a lycan or vampire, and those viruses killed any others that tried to enter the system.

So despite his own misgivings, Harry followed his sire through the town, entranced at the way he could sense the blood flowing in a mortal’s veins. Everything was sharper, more brilliant now, through his lycan eyes, and the smells nearly knocked him back when he first stepped from the old underground station. Sounds, however, were even clearer. And the high pitched whine of car brakes going bad had him falling to his knees in pain until the car was four long blocks away. Lucian, who wasn’t as particular about whom he killed, waved Harry into a muggle nightclub, telling him he’d join him shortly. Frowning, Harry walked to the door of the club, expecting to be denied entrance due to his age. Instead, the bouncer barely gave him a second look, and it took Harry a while to realize why. The bouncer was a lycan as well. Surprised, Harry turned back to the door, only to find that another bouncer had taken his place, this time a mortal. Sighing, he walked over to the bar, deciding to see exactly how much older he appeared to the rest of the world, and ordered a bottle of Bank’s beer. The tender didn’t question him, and instead, placed the bottle in front of him and turned to another customer. Smirking to himself, Harry looked at the bottle, remembering seeing his uncle drink a few of these. Well, guess its time to see what the fuss is about, eh Potter? He questioned himself, and then took a slow pull from the bottle. At first, the chilled ale tasted a bit like butterbeer, with its sweetly nutty flavor, but then he caught the slightest taste of the alcohol. Don’t know why people think it’s a big deal, he thought, Butterbeer probably has more alcohol than this stuff.

But despite that, he drank the beer slowly, eyeing the people in the room. Why Lucian would push him into a bar was beyond him, given the fact that he was on the lookout for people who would likely be dying anyway. Then, a metallic smell caught his notice. Copper. Blood. His green eyes focused on a dark corner of the room, and he found a woman nursing her date’s hand, shards of broken glass littering the table. No…that’s not it, he convinced himself, and the smell was far too strong…too close. So his eyes looked closer, and then he found the source of the smell. A male vampire was seated not too far away, his blonde hair gleaming in the lights of the club. In his lap, a young woman had her neck tilted to allow him access, and the vampire had his lips attached to her throat. The woman’s mouth fell open in surprise, as she must have felt the teeth sinking into her skin, and the man drinking on her blood. Her blue eyes were taking on a glazed look the longer the man fed, but in her mouth, Harry noticed a pair of decidedly fake fangs. A make-believe vampire, he realized. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into. Before he even thought to go to the girl, a hand slid up his thigh seductively, drawing his attention to a woman who had seated herself next to him.

Her hair was black as his own, and hung to her shoulders in a sleek mass that his fingers suddenly itched to touch, while a pair of deep brown eyes watched him with amusement. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” she said plainly, her hand still sliding itself along his leg. His eyes roved over her slowly, taking in the black silk tank top and black leather pants that hugged to a rather nice figure. She wasn’t the best looking woman he’d ever seen, he knew, but there was a type of allure to her that screamed for his attention. Giving her a smile that didn’t betray his race, he held out a hand to her, praying that the memories of Lucian dancing that he had wouldn’t allow him to embarrass himself while he led her to the dance floor.

“And I didn't think about

All the ways I hurt you and myself

And I wouldn't say a thing to you

I keep it to myself in

My mind

And I can't stand without you

And I won't find the answers

When you're gone

But it's over to you

I can't find the answer when you're gone

And it's over to you

But you can't find the answer where you are

And you know I need you now

And this ain't easy to admit

But no one needs to know

What goes on behind

The door in my room

I'm kicking through the

Walls in my mind

And I can't stand without you

And I won't find the answers

When you're gone

But it's over to you

I can't find the answer when you're gone

And it's over to you

You can't find the answer where you are” (1)

And as the lyrics played, Harry danced with the girl, letting the music wash through him. There was something in the lyrics that sparked one of his own memories of a girl with cinnamon eyes and bushy brown hair that he couldn’t think of the name of. A whisper of the name eluded him, and he frowned. Why was this girl haunting him? He’d thought of her more than once, but the more Lucian trained him, he less he remembered of his former life. So now whoever this girl was, whatever she had meant to him was little more than a flash of memory. His memories of before being turned were awash in those of Lucian’s long life, leaving only these flashes of a scene for him. Lucian assured him that the memories of his own life would return with time, but something told Harry he didn’t have nearly as much time as it might take.

Then, a scent washed over him, that of another vampire, and he realized this woman he was dancing with was the source of the scent. Hmm…that would be interesting, wouldn’t it? He thought, only marginally aware of the fact she was eyeing his neck hungrily. Lycans and vampires have been fighting for ages, and if she’s interested in me…Now there’s a laugh, actually. A woman like her interested in a kid like me? I mean, no matter how you slice it, I’m still sixteen…I think. Damn it all, I hate not being able to remember my own life!

A light tug on his arm drew his attention from his thoughts, and back to the woman. Her slender hands were tugging him gently, trying to get him to follow her into the back area of the club, and he followed willingly. Once back there, she pushed open a door, leading him into an alleyway that was deserted. He smiled at her when she draped her arm around his waist, sliding a hand into his back pocket. A flash of memory appeared again, this time of a raven haired girl his own age, her eyes sparkling with laughter as he talked to her of something. But naturally, he couldn’t figure out what. So rather than dwell on it again, he focused on the woman beside him, sliding his own arm around her, and letting his hand rest almost possessively on her hip. Something about this seemed off, he knew, namely the fact that she was getting so cozy with a werewolf like himself. But then again, perhaps she was one for breaking rules.

A slight tug from him had the girl’s other hip tight against his own, and he looked down at her. “So what’s your name, anyway?” he asked her, allowing a hint of a smile to show again.

“Selene,” she said simply, speaking for only the second time since she sat beside him inside. As expected, her voice was clear and precise, and her fangs showed every so slightly as she spoke. Her eyes, which had been brown before, were slowly changing to a silver-blue that should have seemed very unusual. But on her, it somehow fit. “And yours?” She asked, stopping as they entered a darker part of the alley.

“Don’t remember,” he fibbed, not sure if the vampyres were supporting Voldemort or not. And if they were, then to tell her his identity would be like giving the vampires an automatic “in” with Voldemort. For the second she bit him, he was quite sure he’d die. Wait a sec, who’s Voldemort? He asked himself, hating this whole memory loss thing.

Selene seemed to sense that he wasn’t telling her the truth, but she didn’t push matters. Instead, she shifted now and pressed her body to his as it had been while they danced. “Well, what do I call you then?”

He frowned, then remembered a nickname that seemed like it should mean a good deal to him. “Moony,” he said, praying she wouldn’t pick up on the werewolf reference.

“Moony?” she questioned, a slight frown marring her own expression. Slowly, she allowed the frown to dissipate, and a smile to cross her lips again. “Alright…Moony it is, then.” Her hands, which had been hanging at her sides for the past few second, moved up, encircling his neck as she pressed him into the brick wall behind him. A thought occurred to her, and she raised an eyebrow. “How old are you anyway?”

He gave a shrug. “Don’t remember that either.”

It was obvious she didn’t believe him. “Mm…Well, no matter I suppose. Not like you’ll go tattling on me right?”

“For what?” he teased, sliding his own arms around her, allowing his hands to rest just above her ass.

She let out a laugh that seemed forced, and in the now neon blue eyes, he saw disdain and a deep-seated pain that he doubted she’d tell anyone about. But instead of giving him time to think about it, Selene pressed her lips against his, and proceeded to kiss him quite passionately. And no matter how angry it might make Lucian with him later, Harry returned the kiss, and allowed it to turn into another and another. Because the part of him that was still a teenage boy still was fighting for a sense of dominance, Harry removed his lips from hers and pressed his lips to her neck, again going by memories of Lucian’s. Obviously he did something right though, as she returned the advance in things, pressing her own lips to his neck.

It was a good ten minutes later before Harry got a sensation those things were definitely off, but the sensation came far too late. Before he could warn her, Selene sunk her fangs deep into his jugular, only to pull back shortly after, the realization that he was a werewolf slamming into her at the taste of his blood. Her neon blue eyes were fearful of what she had done, and Harry knew why. For a werewolf to be bitten by a vampire meant death, and vise versa. And now, as his vision went black, the name of the brown eyed girl who had haunted him for days finally became clear…

…Hermione…

__________________________________________________________________

…Hermione…

Her own name came like a whisper through her mind, said by a voice so familiar, she’d know it anywhere. Startled, she sat up in bed, grabbing a dressing gown from the foot of her bed as she scrambled out from under the covers and towards her door. She had no idea how or why, but she was more than certain Harry had called to her, that he needed her. Perhaps now more than ever, she realized, with no idea where the thought came from. Praying that an adult would still be awake, she hurried out of her room and down the stairs towards the kitchen, her bare feet making nary a sound on the wood floors. After what felt like ages, she reached the door she sought, and pushed it open, more than relieved to see Professor Dumbledore seated at the table.

“Professor,” she said, moving forward and gaining the headmaster’s unwavering attention. “I think something’s wrong with Harry…”

Curious, Dumbledore held up a hand to keep Mrs. Weasley, who was also present, from speaking up. “And what makes you think that, if I might inquire?”

“I…” Hermione suddenly realized how silly what she had to say would sound, but fear of something happening to Harry kept her from saying it was nothing and returning to bed. But then the voice came again, Help me, Hermione… Then it faded, and for a moment, things went black. Driven by a new force, she met the aged wizard’s eyes directly; fear consuming her at the idea that something was happening to Harry. “I heard him…in my head. And I know it sounds crazy, but I did, I know it. He didn’t say anything but my name, but…I know something’s wrong.”

Dumbledore frowned lightly as he thought about what this could mean, and then nodded at Hermione. “I believe you, Miss Granger. Its simply a matter of how could he contact you in such a way…quite baffling given the fact that he’s never shown tendencies toward having telepathic powers.”

At Hermione’s surprised look, Dumbledore couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh no, telepathy isn’t just some ridiculous story, my dear. It is a very much uncommon power though, and more typical in races like vampires than those such as ourselves. But some wizards are blessed with the ability.”

Taking the information in, Hermione frowned. “So…Harry could be telepathic?”

“It’s an option to consider, if what you say about him contacting is true, which I have no doubt it is.” He peered at her over his glasses. “After all, you’re not known for lying about such serious matters.”

There was something about the way he looked at her that had her wondering if he knew about the fact she had lied to keep Harry and Ron out of trouble more than once, including the Troll incident in first year, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on such things. After all, Harry could be in trouble.

“Sir…Is there any way we can find him? I mean, it’s been a month almost since he disappeared and still nothing…And now he’s talking to me in my head? Its…its…odd.”

Dumbledore sighed as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the kitchen table just as Ron entered the room. The redhead looked at Hermione, then at the adults. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said simply, noticing the look his mother gave him for being out of bed at such an hour. “Haven’t slept much this month, actually,” he added, his blue eyes looking to Dumbledore. “Kind of hard to when my best mate’s missing and all.”

The room looked back to Dumbledore, fully expecting him to be able to tell them he’d find Harry soon, but such a thing didn’t happen. Instead, the old wizard put his head in his hands for a moment, looking every last one of his over 150 years of age. When he lifted his head finally, his normally twinkling blue eyes were dull, causing those present to remember how human this man in front of them was.

“I wish I could say that we had an idea of Harry’s location, Mr. Weasley,”

Dumbledore told Ron, his tone serious and tired. “But even with all of the tools at my disposal, and those the Ministry possesses there has been no sign of him.”

Before Dumbledore could continue, Kingsley’s head appeared in the fireplace of the kitchen. “Dumbledore, you need to get here right away,” he said in a rush, and the sound of commotion was heavy behind him. “Its got to do with Potter…”

No further words were needed, as the old wizard disappeared immediately, followed shortly by Tonks and Mr. Weasley as their Ministry badges alerted them they were needed at work. Thus left to their own devices, the rest took a seat at the table, all thoughts of sleep banished from their minds. Instead, they all thought on the same thing or rather, the same person…Harry Potter.

__________________________________________________________________

A sewer not far from the nightclub -

Drenched in stinking water, Harry doubled over as pain like nothing he could remember feeling shot through his body. This must be what dying is like, Harry thought grimly, and stumbled, falling face first into the water for what had to be the tenth time. The pain doubled, and Harry could hear the sound of his bones breaking and resetting themselves in a new position, very different from his werewolf form. But then the pain became too much, and he blacked out, again thinking the name of the brown-eyed girl. Help me, Hermione…he pleaded, and then faded into darkness.

__________________________________________________________________

At the Ministry of Magic -

When Dumbledore, Tonks, and Mr. Weasley appeared at the ministry, Shacklebolt let them into a normally closed area of the building where records of the life and death of each and every wizard was recorded. Quills scribbled away on new sheets of parchment as a witch or wizard was born, and as one or two died. They walked past the desks where these quills wrote away, and to a larger desk at the back where two witches sat, compiling the information into books for the evening’s data. When one of the witches saw the quartet heading their way, she pulled a sheet of parchment from the stack near her, and shoved it in their direction immediately, unsurprised when Shacklebolt snatched it up almost immediately.

“Here…” he said, handing the parchment to Dumbledore. The old wizard looked at the sheet in only mild interest at first, while Tonks and Arthur read over his shoulder. But when the three pairs of eyes reached the halfway mark, each had a very marked reaction to the news - Tonks, known for her clumsiness, stumbled back, hands clamped over her mouth in terror. Mr. Weasley was silent, his brown eyes wide as his hands started to shake noticeably, and his Ministry badge falling to the floor unnoticed. Dumbledore, however, simply closed his eyes, letting the parchment flutter out of his hands. When the normally twinkling blue eyes opened again, there was no real sign of life to them, aside from the tears that started to leak slowly from the corners. Even Shacklebolt, who had read the parchment only moments before flooing Dumbledore, finally allowed himself to grieve. The boy who lived had finally lost his luck…Harry Potter was dead.

Elsewhere in London, a brown-haired girl sat up in bed again, despite having just settled back down to sleep. And as a feeling washed over her, she let out an anguished cry.

“HARRY!”

__________________________________________________________________

When Harry came to, he was back in the lycan den, and once again, Lucian was seated not too far away. His body felt as if nothing had happened, but memories of the vampire woman came back to him full force. Why am I not dead, he thought, and sat up slowly, realizing that he felt even better than he had before. Very odd, he realized, and looked to Lucian.

“What on earth happened to me?”

Lucian gave him a grim smile, and shook his head. “I’m not the person to ask, Harry.” He glanced up, and the doctor came walking in, pulling off a pair of surgical gloves. “Instead, I’ll leave it to my old friend here.”

The doctor walked towards Harry, observing him closely, and then took Harry’s chin in his hand and gave him a thorough once-over, then backed off. “Yes, yes…” he murmured, and gave Lucian a smirk. “You were correct in your analysis, Lucian. He is indeed the one we’ve been looking for.”

“Pardon me,” Harry interrupted, frowning. “But would you like to clue me in?”

“You do remember, in our history lessons, how I mentioned the fact that vampires and Lycans share a common ancestor, correct?”

Harry nodded, frowning. “Of course. Alexander Corvinus…12^th century warlord. You said his descendants were all dead though.”

The doctor smiled eerily, and gave a shrug. “It would assume we were right in thinking that the disease was passed on, the one that allowed Corvinus to survive as both vampire and lycan.” He held up a vial that contained a blue/purple liquid that swirled without being stirred, and Harry stared at it.

“What is that?”

“Your blood,” Lucian explained. “I’m not sure how, but you contain the same trait as Corvinus himself. None of his other ancestors were found to contain it, yet you do.”

Harry frowned as a memory that he knew to be his own came forward. “A few years ago…four I guess…A basilisk managed to sink a fang into my arm,” and Harry rubbed unconsciously at the spot. “There was a phoenix there…he…his tears healed the wound. And a doctor said that the mixture of tears and venom would help me later in life, because the basilisk venom would cancel out a good many potions, just like the phoenix tears.”

Lucian and the doctor smiled broadly at this knowledge, and shared a look. “Well, then between that and your lycan and vampyre blood, there shall be no stopping you, I dare say.”

Harry’s eyes jerked up, meeting the doctor’s. “What? Lycan AND vampyre blood?”

“Indeed. As I implied, you, my boy, are now a true immortal.”

Harry was in awe of the idea, remembering what Lucian had told him about Corvinus’ abilities. “You mean…I…I can…”

“Yes,” Lucian said as he nodded. “Which is why I’ve contacted an eh…ally, that I have in the nearest vampyre coven. I’ve taught you all I can, and while you’re always welcome here, its time you learned the ways of our cousins.”

__________________________________________________________________

Viktor’s Mansion -

Harry’s eyes adjusted easily to the dim lighting of the main throne chamber in the mansion of the vampires, and the man seated on the throne, he realized, was the same blonde male he had seen in the nightclub. A man moved from behind him, and Harry caught a glimpse of dark eyes and hair as long and dark as his own. Kraven, Harry remembered the vampyre Lucian was in contact with. And the woman, Selene, now stood on his other side, obviously to await some sort of punishment, though her expression didn’t give anything away. It seemed that vampires were that way, he thought. They wanted those around them to think they were only capable of the darker emotion, and something like fear was to be as well hidden as possible. Granted, fear could be easily scented if one knew what it smelled like.

The blonde vampyre leaned his chin onto a hand as he studied Harry closely, and at a motion, Harry moved forward, bowing as Craven had instructed when he was in the center of the room. Another motion from the blonde had Harry rising from his bow, and moving to stand within feet of the throne, his head held high.

"Who are you?"

Harry's green eyes met the blue of this man directly. "Harry Potter, sir," he said, ignoring the gasp of Selene behind him.

"Harry Potter?" the vampyre questioned, the barest hint of surprise registering on his face before it could be subdued. "Then it is you that the Dark Lord wishes dead." A slow, rather evil smile worked its way onto his lips. "It would seem he got his wish, but not in the way he hoped."

"Indeed," Harry parried, unthinkingly quoting the Lycan doctor.

This lord of vampires rose, and Harry could sense Selene and Craven bow from behind him. "From what my senses tell me, you're a vampyre, but I smell a lycan in our midst as well. Can you explain that Mr. Potter?"

"Yes," Harry said, still meeting those unblinking blue eyes. "I am the source of the lycan scent and powers you feel and smell." The lord raised an eyebrow in silent question, and Harry continued. "I was originally bitten by the lycan, Lucian, nearly a month ago. He trained me himself in what he felt a lycan should know, and last night, he took me to a nightclub in search of a human meal. There, I met your eh...daughter? Selene. I'm certain she had no idea who I was, given the fact that my hair now covers my scar, and to tell the truth, my memories of my life before Lucian turning me were vague at best until last night. But regardless, we were interested in each other, and went for a walk outside of the club. You were there, I believe." He waited for the lord's nod, before picking up the conversation again.

"When we were far enough away from the club, we began kissing and necking. It wasn't until it was far too late than I realized she intended to bite me. And she did..." Harry pulled the collar of his shirt away to reveal the bite marks. "But instead of it killing me, I survived. Lucian believes me to be an indirect descendant of Alexander Corvinus...who I'm sure you know of, given that your fellow lord, Markus is his son." Smirking now, the blonde vampyre nodded again. "I'm not sure what happened, as I blacked out. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in the Lycan den, and Lucian is telling me that I am to come here to continue training."

"That is a very interesting story, but if you indeed are the descendant of Corvinus, then that would imply that you allow for a perfect union of Lycan and Vampyre blood."

"That's what the doctor...a lycan, told me."

While circling Harry, the man spoke. "I will train you, as a death dealer would be trained." At Harry's look, he elaborated. "A death dealer is a vampyre who kills werewolves for a living. Surely Lucian told you of our war. I'd be disappointed if he didn't."

"That's why he trained me to begin with. He wants nothing to do with Voldemort, and so he felt that by helping me kill Voldemort, he would be free to continue his war with your kind. And perhaps allow Lycans more freedom, so they have the same rights as wizards do."

"That would certainly change the current standing, with us being the more advanced of the two races."

"If you don't mind, sir, I've still yet to hear your name."

Surprised though he was to be interrupted, the man smiled. "I am Viktor. That is all you need ever call me. Most of my kind call me 'lord,' but you are not really of my kind."

Harry smirked as he looked at Viktor. "Its a good thing you don't expect me to call you 'lord,' I must admit. I've never been a big fan of that title being given to anyone."

"I do hope you change your mind, because if Lucian is correct, and you are in fact a perfect blending of our species, then you, in fact, are a more powerful than either race by itself. That would make you our mutual king or lord."

Harry pondered this for a moment, then looked at Viktor. "I'll think about it, but for now, I need training, because I plan on returning to Hogwarts on September first."

Viktor smiled at this young man's eagerness, and headed towards the doors leading from the throne room. "In that case, let’s begin."

__________________________________________________________________

Another two weeks passed, and Harry was fast learning his limits, as well as his new powers. The addition of vampyre blood to the lycan blood meant that he could survive contact with silver and sunlight, the only true allergies of either species. And as such, that meant that killing him would be no easy feat for Voldemort to accomplish. Especially given the fact that, in all reality, he was technically already dead. His new powers included a further enhancement to his agility and speed, allowing him to move too fast for the normal human eye to see, and to actually climb walls or hang to ceilings like a bat or spider would. His height, which as a lycan had been pushed to 6'3 in human-like form, was now finally 6'5, and as tall as he was to go apparently. In his lycan form, however, when standing on only the balls of his feet as werewolves tend to do, he was an even more imposing 7'8. Though already severely lacking in the fat department, every last superficial muscle was clearly defined and visible, even under some clothing. His formerly pale skin was now imbued with the look of fine porcelain, until he fulfilled his thirst, at which point it regained a healthy glow like normal humans contain. And it was this, perhaps, that kept him from going too long without feeding.

That too, was different now, for vampires tended to use blood banks to feed their thirst these days, or fed on cattle when out in the country. So Harry could drink as much as he wanted, when he wanted, allowing him to retain the human glow for a full 36 hours or more if he drank every hour or two. In Viktor's mansion, luxury was the game they all played, and they played it well. Clothing was velvets, silks, satins and the softest of leathers and bedding was much the same, though most did sleep in a coffin-like bed. Harry, however, was not restricted to such a thing, and after so many years in a cupboard, the vampires ordered him a king sized bed with down mattress that they outfitted in only the best. It seemed everyone in the house owned a cell phone and laptop, while the garage was full of the best cars mortals could make, both European and otherwise. Their weaponry was nearly space-age, as far as Harry knew, and put what the Lycans had to shame by far.

But it was his new form that had them all entranced in the mansion. The mix of lycan and vampyre blood had created a third, very unique form in his body, and while he could become a lycan or vampyre at will, this "immortal form" as they called it was amazing. As with his lycan form, however, it was highly advised that he remove his shirt, or it would simply be wasted anyway. Shoes and pants suffered only minor damage during a transformation to this form, thankfully allowing him some modesty. And it was this form that Viktor and Lucian were both looking at right now.

The blue skin tint that took over in this form was something they couldn't explain, but it definitely marked him as one of a kind. Claws took place of fingernails on his hands, and of his toenails, but to a lesser extent on the latter. While vampyre-like fangs protruded clearly, even with his mouth closed. Those changes, combined with his chin-length black hair and amazing frame made for quite the picture. Perhaps the thing that made him look demonic, however, was his eyes. In his normal form, they were the usual emerald green. For his lycan form they became a green and golden iris with black overtaking the whites of his eyes. His vampyre form sported ice green eyes when he was about to feed or was feeding,. But this immortal form sported eyes that were completely black, iris and all.

"I'd say that his training is complete, Lucian," Viktor said, still examining Harry's immortal form. He himself had trained Harry in swordplay, while Selene and Kahn trained him in the use and care of guns of almost any shape and size. Craven's only real involvement had been in teaching the young man some of the technology the mansion had to offer.

Lucian nodded almost absently, very much pleased with the way things had turned out. "Yes." His eyes met Harry's directly as he changed from immortal form into his human form. "I'd say its time we let Voldemort know that our allegiance has changed."

Harry looked up, a smirk crossing his lips in such a way that even Viktor was wary. "I'm coming with you when you do."

"I'm not sure that's wise, Harry."

"I don't care. I was trained to use the telepathic powers I possess. There's no way he can find out its me. Besides, if I'm your lord, then he'll want to speak with me, I'm sure."

"That is true," Viktor conceded, still not sure of the plan. "Your scar is a dead give away, however. And there is no magic that would hide it, you know this."

Harry nodded. "I know. That's why I'll be in a hooded cloak, with my face completely hidden from his view." He grinned. "Besides, since you guys got my school stuff a week ago, I've spent a good deal of time reading over my books. There's a spell that will keep him from being able to move the hood without my permission and what not."

Lucian couldn't help but give a slight chuckle. "It seems you're learning that in order to beat this evil, you'll have to do more than just let other's train you."

"Yeah, yeah. Also, I want to see my friends...in the same disguise, with you there."

"Why on earth would you do such a thing?"

"I want you to pledge your allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix. You've pledged it to me as Harry Potter, and as the Immortal. Now, its time to let the Order know who you're fighting for."

__________________________________________________________________

Voldemort's lair (What? Dark Lords always have a lair...) -

“My...my lord?” a squeaking voice enquired.

“What is it, Wormtail?” The responding voice was high-pitched, callous and cold.

The man who was called Wormtail faced his lord, watery eyes never meeting the face directly. It was more than obvious that this man was absolutely terrified of his lord. Peter Pettigrew wrung his hands anxiously, praying to whatever deity that might exist that his announcement wouldn’t end in pain. “The Lycans and vampires have requested audience with you, My Lord. They insist upon it.”

A positively evil smile flitted across the face of the Lord Voldemort. Oh yes, he had been expecting to hear from the two species. Thus far they had yet to have their services required and Voldemort was quite sure they wanted to complain on that fact. After all, Lycans and vampires were two races that wizards in general feared, and as such, did everything they could to deny rights to. And while he had no intention of following through with all of his promises, they would make excellent allies in this war against Dumbledore and his followers.

His burning red eyes looked at his servant for a moment, before he waved his hand in dismissal. “Send them in.”

Within moments, nine cloaked figures entered the room. Two had their hoods pushed back upon entering, and six others pushed theirs back once they stood in front of him. But one, one kept his hood up, completely obscuring Voldemort’s view of the figure’s face. The two who had entered with hoods lowered were Viktor and Lucian, the heads of their kinds. The other six were the most trusted confidants of their lords. Curious, Voldemort flicked his hand in the direction of the hooded figure, only to find his spell blocked.

“You,” he said, pointing at the figure. “Remove your hood in my presence.”

“I will not,” the man replied, his voice one Voldemort was quite sure he’d never heard before.

“Do you know to whom you speak, you insolent fool?”

Before Voldemort could make a move to do anything, Lucian and Viktor closed ranks in front of the cloaked man, despite the fact that the most trusted of Death Eaters were entering the room.

“It is you who does not know to whom they speak, Lord Voldemort,” Viktor informed him, his head held high, light blue eyes blazing as he bared his fangs.

“Enough,” the cloaked man said, and Viktor stepped aside, much to Voldemort’s surprise. A pair of black eyes looked out at him from under the hood, and Voldemort was quite sure he saw the glint of fangs as well, startling him. “You call yourself a Lord, Voldemort, but you have yet to earn the title. And your manners leave a good deal to be desired. But none the less, I do need to introduce myself.”

Thanks to a very powerful glamour charm, Harry had altered his appearance to keep from being recognizable, and so when the hood was lowered, all Voldemort saw was blue skin, black eyes and fangs with chin length black hair. The trademark scar was hidden behind the hair, and bone structure was cleverly changed as well. “I am the Immortal, Lord of both vampires and Lycans alike.”

At this, Voldemort sat back in his chair, surprised more than he’d show. “You dare insult me?” he asked, but made no move for his wand as he would have otherwise.

“Yes, I do dare. And I also dare this...as of this moment; you no longer have the support of the Lycans or vampires. You’ve proven in the past to be unable to keep the promises you make to those who aid you, and I will not allow them to be tricked. As we speak, Lycans and vampires alike are spreading the word of your deceit to other races.” Harry paused to smirk here. “I would suspect that by the end of tomorrow, you’ll no longer find allies so easy to come by.”

Voldemort was on his feet in an instant, wand out and pointed at this Immortal. “You FOOL!” he yelled, causing a few of the Death Eaters to cower. “You would dare cross me in such a way? I swear to you, you will die by my hand sooner or later.”

Harry grinned now, showing a full set of fangs to match the more prominent pair.

“There’s one problem there, Voldemort.”

“What?”

“I’m already dead...” he said, and with that, he and his company disappeared from the lair, leaving Voldemort to take out his frustration on his Death Eaters.

__________________________________________________________________

12 Grimmwauld Place -

A knock on the door had Molly Weasley nearly jumping out of her chair in the small study, and the second had her rushing for the door, wondering who on earth it could be. A quick peep through the peephole had her sending an alert to Dumbledore down in the kitchen, and soon, she was joined by her husband, Dumbledore, Moody and Remus, as well as Tonks. She stepped aside to allow Dumbledore to look through the peephole, and huddled against the wall when he opened the door.

“And just who are you?” Dumbledore questioned, his blue eyes trying to peer into the hoods of these people standing on the doorstep.

At his question, Lucian and Viktor pushed back their hoods to answer. “We’re here to speak to you, Dumbledore. Let us in, and we’ll explain further.”

There was the sound of scurrying on the stairs, and all turned in that direction just in time to see Ron, Hermione and Ginny stumble down in almost unison. The three teens looked at the door, obviously hoping it would be someone else, but at the sight of the hooded figures, their hands moved towards their wands.

“Who’re they?” Ron asked, moving protectively in front of the girls.

One of the hooded figures moved forward, black eyes shimmering under the hood. “We’re friends; now then...may we enter?”

“Let them in,” another voice said, this one coming from the stairs that led to the kitchen.

This time, the group look revealed Serverus Snape standing there. “They’re werewolves and vampires...and I unless I’m wrong, that man there is the Immortal.”

The hooded man smirked, this time showing a glimmer of fangs. “Correct, Mr. Snape,” he said, giving the slightest of bows in his direction, surprising the Potion Master. Then, the black eyes slid to Dumbledore, who was watching them intently. "If we may enter, Dumbledore?"

Shaken from his reverie, Dumbledore moved aside, and the crowd in the entry hall parted down the middle to allow their guests entry. As the nine passed, the Order members and teens fell in behind them while Snape showed the way down to the kitchen. Once in the room, the nine remained standing, allowing the Order to take the seats around the table. When everyone had finally turned their chairs in the direction of the guests, Viktor and Lucian pushed their hoods back, revealing their almost polar opposite appearances. Viktor being winter pale, with his blonde hair and blue eyes, and alabaster skin while Lucian was shaded in browns for hair and eyes, as well as lightly tanned skin. The members were surprised, given the fact that aside from Remus, none of them had seen another werewolf, much less a vampyre. The two lords shared a look, and then turned to Dumbledore.

"I'm quite sure that by now you've heard of our visit to Voldemort, declaring that we will no longer support him in this war of yours. In all honesty, neither species would bother with a mortal's war under normal circumstances. But these are anything but normal circumstances."

Dumbledore's blue eyes peered over the half-moon spectacles at Viktor as he spoke, then moved slowly past him to the other vampires and Lycans who had finally lowered their own hoods, leaving the Immortal as the only one with a hood still up. "They most certainly are not normal circumstances, I agree. I must, however, express my curiosity at your change of heart. Lord Voldemort has a great deal more to offer you in the way of blood, I admit, if only because our side refuses to resort to such measures."

"Do not refer to that creature as a Lord. He has not earned the title."

The sudden interruption from the Immortal had all in the room turning to look at him as he finally pushed the hood back, this time using a much more powerful charm that was specially designed to trick objects like Moody's magical eye, which could see through things like walls and invisibility cloaks. The smirk he gave was anything but pleasant, really, but showed his disdain of Voldemort’s unearned title clearly.

“Creature?” Hermione questioned from her spot at the table, drawing the Immortal’s attention to her. Something about him softened when he looked at her, but later, when they had all had time to think on it...they’d swear it was imagined.

“Yes, creature. He is neither living nor dead, human nor non-human. He’s simply a thing. Nothing more or less.”

“I must agree with the Immortal,” Dumbledore said from his spot, drawing attention back to him. “Voldemort is nothing more than spirit now, and that is what will make him difficult to kill. His physical form is merely a shell that is easily broken.”

“Indeed,” the lycan doctor said from his spot just behind Lucian. “I’ve studied this thing’s use of magic thoroughly, and there is nothing, short of the Philosopher’s Stone that would bring him back in a truly human form.” He smirked at Dumbledore. “And you had the sense to have that thing destroyed years ago, thankfully.”

“Wouldn’t have had the chance if not for Harry, though,” Ron said, unable to stop himself.

The immortal looked at him in amusement. “That is what the stories say isn’t it?”

“It’s not just a story,” Ron declared hotly as he stood up. “Hermione and I were there!” He gestured at his friend, glaring at the Immortal all the while. “So don’t talk about Harry as if he’s just a legend!”

Rather than punish Ron, the Immortal gave a hint of a smile. “I’m sure your friend would appreciate your loyalty to him. And I meant no offense. I was simply stating a fact that very few really know what happened in any of his adventures, except for you two of course,” he added with a respectful nod at Ron and Hermione.

Pacified for the moment, Ron sat back down, much to the relief of his mother. “Then you know he’s dead, right?”

The Immortal seemed surprised by this, but shook it off. “He’s not dead…”

At this, Dumbledore looked surprised. “You’ve seen him?”

“Yes…”

The answer might have been incomplete, but it was all that those in the room needed to hear.

“When did you see him? Where? How was he?”

These questions were fired in rapid succession by Molly Weasley as she regained her voice for the first time since seeing the cloaked figures outside the door. And yet the Immortal took his time in answering.

“I saw him recently, and will not say more, other than that he is fine. He spoke of returning to Hogwarts this fall, which, if I’m not mistaken, the new term starts in only a week. So you will see him then.” There was something in the tone that made it clear that he wished to say no more on the topic, and so, with a good deal of restraint, no one did.

The Immortal glanced at Viktor and Lucian when the room went quiet, and they nodded. Both stepped forward as the immortal stepped back, pulling his hood back up to cover his face while Lucian and Viktor bowed to Dumbledore.

“Now to the reason we have come to see you,” the Immortal said, his black eyes barely visible from behind the hood.

Dumbledore turned his attention to Viktor and Lucian, curious. “Yes?”

Lucian went first, his eyes meeting Dumbledore’s directly. “You have my word that every lycan shall be more than willing to aid you against Voldemort, by whatever means you deem proper. With the aid of the Immortal, we no longer have the need to feed upon humans for blood, and can instead get it elsewhere. So while the killing of mortals may still be what our wolfish forms want, a good many Lycans are now able to control the transformation and retain their more human personality." He paused; taking in the surprised look of Remus, then gave the hints of a smile before stepping back again.

Now, Viktor met the eyes of the wizened headmaster, his face serious. "My coven and our allies will also aid you and yours in this war."

His shortened speech had Lucian smirking, given the lack of proclamation that bloodshed was not a necessary requirement. But then the Immortal stepped forward again, leaving his hood up. He handed a pendant in the shape of a phoenix to Dumbledore and smirked, causing his fangs to glimmer in the light. "Use this whenever you need either of them. They will answer the call promptly."

And with that, the group disappeared, leaving the kitchen in a state of chaos as each tried to talk out the ramifications of the two races joining up with the order.

__________________________________________________________________

A/N: Ok, that seems like a good stopping place for now. And Sorry about the delay. If you read the Author notes I had up in place of this chapter then you know what was going on. I now have a new computer, and have spent the better part of the past two days getting it set up as I wanted it. But now that I've got all this set up, I will be working on Faith in every available moment. Thanks for your patience, and look for an update around two to four weeks from now. I won't make any more definite promise on updates than that, what with the release of HBP and all...which I am sure I'll wanna read twice right after I get it. LOL.

THANKS to my reviewers!

Songs:

(1) - "Its Over" - The Goo Goo Dolls

5. What You Deserve

Divinity Forensis

By: RogueBHS

Chapter 3 - “What You Deserve”

Author Notes: Another new chapter. Suddenly, this one is getting almost no reviews, but anyone who does asks for more chapters. And given that there is no way I'd get this idea out of my head, I'm more than happy to oblige. LOL. Hope everyone enjoys!

Just a note to those who are curious, the coven Viktor rules is a part of the Vampire Clan, Ventrue. Want more info? Go here: http://amaranth.wehostmuds.com/clans.html

And Lucian’s Werewolf den is of the Children of Gaia (or Spiral) tribe. Info here: http://amaranth.wehostmuds.com/tribes.html

The site that talks about the Vampire clans also goes into their Disciplines, or special powers they either inherit or can be taught. Those will be mentioned frequently, and upon their first mention, likely given an explanation of exactly what they do.

Main characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin. From Underworld: Selene, Kraven, Viktor, Marcus, Amelia, Lucian, and Kahn.

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

Viktor’s mansion -

During the next week before the train left for Hogwarts, Harry all but locked himself in the training room, going over the things he had been taught this summer. His trunk was almost packed and ready, aside from the few items he knew he’d need. Viktor and Selene had promised to get blood to him on a regular basis so he’d be able to retain his more human skin tone, and prevent feeding upon the students. The trunk, however, was a new one, made like that which the Imposter of Mad-Eye Moody had used in Harry’s forth year. The first compartment housed the many books he now owned, including his Hogwarts books for the past 5 years, and a few from the vampire’s library which Viktor was allowing him to keep. The second compartment housed his Hogwarts things...cauldron, marauder’s map, invisibility cloak, potion’s supplies and what not. The third was his new wardrobe, right down to his replica of a Death Dealer’s uniform, which never failed to turn heads. The forth was for his new weapons, gifts from the vampires and Lycans. Its contents were something he couldn’t reveal to just anyone, but they were made to function in both magic and Muggle environments. Guns ranging in size, swords of various metals, daggers, throwing knives and Merlin only knew what else the compartment had filled to capacity. The fifth compartment was smaller than the others, and housed his laptop, portable CD player, cell phone, and other small electronics.

Speaking of which, he realized, he still needed to find the charm to make those work at Hogwarts. As of yet, the sixth and seventh compartments were fairly empty, holding only the remnants of what he had been carrying the night Lucian turned him and a few things he had gone back to Privet Drive to get in the middle of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~***FLASHBACK***~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Viktor, I NEED those things! One of them is the only gift my godfather could ever get for me!”

One pale blonde eyebrow rose at this, remembering the stories Harry had been telling since he regained his memory fully. It was obvious, every time he spoke of those he had left behind, that of all of them, his Godfather had held a very special place in his heart, and not only because of the link to his father. Looking behind Harry to where Selene and Kahn stood, he sighed, and then nodded. “Take Selene and Kahn with you, and make sure to do this late. No need for you to be seen.”

Harry had smiled then, his green eyes blazing with life. “I doubt that will be a problem,” he said, and then disappeared into shadow. “Thanks, Viktor...” The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, and even though he couldn’t see the young man, Viktor knew Harry was planning something devious for his aunt and uncle.

Once the trio had finally made it to Privet Drive, via Harry’s powers, it took no time for Harry to get inside of the house and let in Selene and Kahn, who each carried a bottomless bag that Harry had bought days earlier in Diagon Alley, while under a glamour charm. The house was nearly silent, if not for the sound of Uncle Vernon and Dudley’s snores. But the two vampires and their companion were completely silent, their footsteps so light that even in the tiled hallway there was no sound. Upon reaching his own room, Harry pushed the door open, finding it exactly as he had left it. Obviously the Order hadn’t been by to pick up anything, which was a relief. Hedwig was still gone, presumably with the Order, or so he hoped anyway.

Pushing open the lid to his trunk, Harry pulled out his treasured Firebolt from its place in top, setting it aside to travel with him, then reached down, pulling out school books left and right, tossing them into Kahn's bag. Finally he reached his uniforms, and while he was certain they'd be too short, he could at least send them to Madam Malkin in Diagon Alley for reuse. Those too went into a bag, followed by his Broomstick Care kit, and anything else he felt he might need. Standing, he moved to his desk, and gently placed Hedwig's cage in the top of the bag, knowing he'd meet up with his owl at Hogwarts. Once the two bags were tied shut, Harry lifted his broomstick from his bed, and walked out of the bedroom for the final time.

Despite the temptation, Harry didn't do anything to his uncle in retribution. Instead, he pulled a piece of paper from by the kitchen phone, and wrote his aunt a brief note.

******

Dear Aunt Petunia,

Seems you're rid of me for good now. No matter what Dumbledore may say about it, I won't return to this house while Uncle Vernon still lives here. If you ever need me, I'm sure Hedwig will find you to bring me a note. Thanks for what you did this summer. I know you risked your own neck by doing so.

Harry

******

With the note finished and placed where only his aunt would find it (in the broom closet), Harry sighed deeply, taking one last look around the house. Finally, he looked to Selene and Kahn, and with a nod, all three disappeared out the front door and into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~***END FLASHBACK***~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Removing himself from the training room, Harry walked through the common area of the mansion, his form drawing the stares of many. His power of Presence was beyond heightened, and at times when he used it, even Viktor found himself hard-pressed to fight it. Being born from a coven of the Ventrue clan had its advantages, especially given that his sire was the childe of one of the most powerful Ventrue known. His history lessons on the vampires and their clans and sires had been more than enlightening, and had proved much easier to sit through than one of the history lessons at Hogwarts. Then again, the fact that it was taught by a living, breathing person who would answer questions and acknowledges you instead of a ghost who just rambled on did make a difference. Lucian’s history lessons of the Lycan/Werewolf tribes had been just as interesting, as Harry was certain that nothing of the sort would ever be taught at Hogwarts.

Taking the main staircase, Harry sighed as he thought of Hogwarts. In two days time, he’d be back within the school he’d called home for the past 5 years, and back amongst his friends. But how would they react to his new ways? Hermione, he was certain, would jump at the chance to learn all about him and the history of the vampires and werewolves, standing by him despite the new thirst for blood. Ron, however, was a different story. Due to the fact he had grown up in a Wizarding family and all, he held the same prejudices as most other wizards. Even upon first learning of Remus or Hagrid’s parentage, he had balked in fear, despite having known them first as kind-hearted people. Others who might find out, Harry wasn’t as worried about, but having had Hermione and Ron at his side for so long, it was hard to imagine them not being there.

I guess I’ll just have to break it to Ron as gently as possible, preferably with a teacher or two present...After all, McGonagall, Dumbledore and a few others will need to know about this, Harry thought. Hermione I’ll tell in private, he resolved. This way Ron can’t laugh at her for asking questions and everything...I know she hates it when he does that. Speaking of Dumbledore...Harry remembered Dumbledore’s face upon realizing that the Immortal was on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place. Man, I wish I’d had a camera or something. He’s going to have to be seated when I tell him what I am, without doubt. I mean, this boy he’s been telling has to defeat the dark lord or die is already dead because he was stupid and didn’t send anyone to check on me physically. That’s a hell of a thing to drop on a person after all. Even if it is his own fault.

Entering the suite that had been assigned to him, Harry walked to a corner of the living area, picking up an electric guitar. While checking the amp, Harry mused idly on the way vampires seemed to appreciate music more than anyone he’d known. But then again, they’d seen so many changes in the genres of music, and even inspired them in the case of the newer hard rock bands, that it made perfect sense that they’d enjoy it. Sliding the sling of the guitar over his head, Harry walked to the nearby keyboard and hit a series of buttons that had rock music coming from the speakers shortly after. Adjusting the volume to the level he wanted, Harry moved a few steps away, and at a cue in the other music, he started playing the guitar and singing.

“I can't seem to find out what I feel
Burned out dreams of others which I can steal
Take or leave this way I seem to you, it eats right through you
Ripped up parts of things I should do, I'll run around and tell you screaming

Oh I live a lie, oh I live a lie, oh why even try
I've been leaving thoughts below
Still I feel I should know

Still don't see much of me giving in
Much too strong to live outside of these sins
Feeling like I'm taken lightly, think you see right through me
Words of those who still despise me, think it's eating me you're dreaming

Oh I live a lie, oh I live a lie, oh why even try
I've been leaving thoughts below
Still I feel I should know

When I seem to believe all that I've done wrong
You can take all that's right I will still move on
Taken all I can give it seems that I don't belong
Push me further from this go on

Oh I live a lie, oh I live a lie, oh why even try
I've been leaving thoughts below
Still I feel I should know” (1)

Without pause, the keyboard went into another song, having been programmed to run through a certain number of songs.

“I don't wanna make this
Harder than I have to
This is how it has to be
There's so many things I want to say
But you just don't listen to me

I don't want to hurt you
You don't want to hurt me
I can't stand you
And you can't stand me
We can't rearrange
You can never change me
Say goodbye
Nothing I say could change your mind because

I can't stay
Tomorrow I'll be on my way
So don't expect to find me sleeping in my bed
'Cuz when you wake up
I won't be there
I won't be there

Everything I say
You find a way to make it
Sound like I was born just yesterday
Everything you taught me
Doesn't mean a thing
So I'm going my way

I don't want to hurt you
You don't want to hurt me
I can't stand you
And you can't stand me
We can't rearrange
You can never change me
Say goodbye
Nothing I say could change your mind because

I can't stay
Tomorrow I'll be on my way
So don't expect to find me sleeping in my bed
'Cuz when you wake up
I won't be there
I won't be there

This is the last night
That I spend at home
And it won't take too long
For you to notice
Won't take long for you to find out
That I'm gone

I can't stay
Tomorrow I'll be on my way
So don't expect to find me sleeping in my bed
'Cuz when you wake up
I won't be there
I won't be there

I can't stay
Tomorrow I'll be on my way
So don't expect to find me sleeping in my bed
'Cuz when you wake up
I won't be there
I won't be there” (2)

Sighing, Harry reached over to turn off the keyboard, and then bent down to turn off the amp as well. The two songs, written with Selene’s help had cleansed him a bit, and sorted out thoughts in his head. At Hogwarts, Harry wasn’t sure how he’d continue the music, but knew he’d have to. The combination of the prophecy and Sirius’ death still loomed over him, begging to be dealt with. And while he wasn’t sure how he could deal with either of them, the prophecy seemed the easiest to focus on. At least that had a straight-forward message. Kill or be killed. Mind you, thanks to the lycan doctor’s research and his new powers, dispensing of Voldemort would likely be easier than he had thought it would be before.

Yeah, right, Harry thought. Killing someone...even him...just isn’t my way. I cringe at the thought of feeding on humans or cattle and I’m a freakin’ vampyre/werewolf crossbreed! If I can’t kill someone to survive for food, how can I be expected to kill someone just because some stupid prophecy says so? Sighing, he put the guitar aside and stretched out on a special-order seven foot long leather couch, propping his head up on the armrest. I really hope I can see Dumbledore right after the feast or something. Much as I hate it, he’s the only one who can give me the answers I need now. Viktor and Lucian have taught me what they can. Smirking, he closed his eyes. Merlin help me the day Dumbledore runs out of answers. And drifted off into a sort of slumber that was unparalleled in the mortal realm.

__________________________________________________________________

King’s Cross Station, September 1st -

As the train’s main clock chimed away the fact that it was now 10:30, a red-headed family hurried through the station towards the platforms 9 and 10. Behind them, a man who looked as if he’d seen better days and a younger woman took their time, eyes watchful for who knows what. Then, without warning, as the clock ticked its way to 10:35, the family and two followers were gone. Reappearing on Platform 9 3/4, the Weasleys, Hermione, Remus and Tonks hurried towards the train, all of them looking for a familiar head of black hair to no avail. It seemed that despite what the Immortal had told them, Harry hadn’t made it to the train station yet. Hermione, Ron and Ginny claimed a compartment with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood near the back, and went back onto the platform to look around for Harry. When the clock showed 10:56, Mrs. Weasley herded the children onto the train, putting on a brave face and reassuring herself as much as them as she said that surely Harry would get to Hogwarts just fine.

But as the train pulled out of the station, Mrs. Weasley waited a until the compartment holding her children was out of sight before turning to her husband and crying into his shoulder. At that moment, knowing Harry never made it to the station, it was like going through the shock of finding that the Ministry had declared him dead all over again.

__________________________________________________________________

On the Train -

In the compartment, the mood was subdued and clouded with grief. Hermione leaned into Ron, seeking comfort from the brotherly embrace he offered. Earlier in the summer, the two had shared a single moment in which they acted upon the crush-like feelings they’d had for each other since third or forth year, only to find the feelings were gone. And now, with Harry presumed dead, each needed the emotional support of the other more than ever. Across from them, Ginny quietly looked out of the window, expression crest-fallen at the fact Harry hadn’t shown. She, like the others, was unwilling to accept the idea of Harry being dead. If he was, Voldemort would’ve known by now, and would have struck hard, Dumbledore or no. Neville, after confirming with Ron that the Daily Prophet’s news was correct, had sat down on the other side of Ginny, his expression blank. Even Luna, who was normally quite unmoved by events seemed down, her protuberant blue eyes not even moving to read the newest issue of the Quibbler in her hands.

During the course of the ride, various DA members dropped in, and all walked away disappointed to find the boy they'd hoped to see wasn't present. Some, like Cho, were worse than the others. Cho Chang, who had already lost one boyfriend to Voldemort, was reduced to tears at the idea of Harry really being gone. It had taken Ginny and Hermione both reassuring her and talking to her for a good half an hour before she calmed down enough too rejoin her friends. But near the end of the journey to Hogwarts, a highly unwelcome but nevertheless expected group forced themselves into the doorway of the compartment.

Sneering, Draco Malfoy looked over the five. "Guess Pot-head really did kick the bucket then," he said, ignoring the way Ron and Neville's hands moved to pull out their wands. "I mean, he'd never leave you lot unprotected otherwise, right?" Draco paused to laugh now, sending his cohorts, Crabbe and Goyle into a fit of laughter that sounded more like angry monkeys than anything. Looking down at Ron and Hermione, Draco leaned in, his grey eyes sparking with glee at the fact Harry was missing.

"Guess the little trio's down to two, isn't it?" Pulling back, he smirked. "And such an ugly couple you make, too...the mudblood and the blood traitor. You make me sick," he finished, and disappeared from the compartment before Ron could figure out a good hex to use.

Seeing Hermione’s distraught look, Ron pushed thoughts of how to kill or otherwise maim Draco to the back of his mind and pulled her back to his side where she cried softly. “S’ok, Hermione. Harry can’t be dead...he just can’t be...Draco was just tryin’ to get to us...”

“I know,” Hermione said, hiccupping in the process as she wiped at tears. “I just wish we knew where he is...”

Ron allowed a soft laugh to pass his lips. “That sounds like the Hermione I know...can’t stand not knowing everything about everything.”

Hermione lifted her head now, wiping away the last few stray tears. “Yeah...but this I can’t find in a book...”

__________________________________________________________________

As the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Hagrid gathered the first year students to him as he was to do, waving half-heartedly at Ron and Hermione as they stepped from the train. Herding the first years into boats, Hagrid searched for the head of black hair next to the red and brown, and upon not seeing it, pulled the pink umbrella from his huge coat, and pointed it at the castle. A blast of light came from the tip, surprising some of the students, namely those who knew Hagrid wasn’t to use magic, and then the umbrella was placed back into the coat as if nothing had happened. The blast of light continued on to Hogwarts though, as if it was a shooting star, finally fading as it passed through the castle walls. Slowly, the older students climbed into the thestral-drawn carriages, and when they were all filled, the ghostly horses made their way towards the castle.

Inside Hogwarts, the second through seventh year students passed Professor McGonagall on her way to collect the first years, and none missed the pitying look she shot at Ron and Hermione as they walked by. Entering the Great Hall, there wasn’t a single black banner in sight, as there normally was upon the death of a student or professor, surprising many. If it wasn’t obvious that Dumbledore refused to believe that Harry Potter was dead before, it certainly was now. And so with some confusion, the students took their seats at the house tables, all noticing the empty spot at the Gryffindor table normally reserved for the head of the Golden Trio. Once everyone was seated, McGonagall entered with the first years trailing behind her, whispering to each other and trying to ignore the stares of the older students and professors.

Upon reaching the raised platform where the teachers table was located, all in the hall turned their attention to the Sorting Hat, which was seated upon the usual three-legged stool. It went through its song for the year, which of course warned of the dangers of a divided Hogwarts, and ended with a proclamation that peace between houses was absolutely necessary. After the song, Professor McGonagall pulled a roll of parchment from her robes, and called off the names of the first years to be sorted. When finally, “Young, Brighton,” was seated at the Ravenclaw table, all turned their heads to Dumbledore, waiting now for his beginning of term announcements, only to have to turn back to the doors of the Great Hall as they swung open.

The ensuing silence was palpable. There, in the doorway stood the one young man all had wondered over for nearly the entirety of the summer. The multiple changes in him, from his startling new height and muscled frame, to the shaggy black hair that now covered his scar were taken in no small amount of shock. But the sparkling green eyes that shone clearly from under the black fringe were undoubtedly those of Harry Potter. No one was sure how he could suddenly be here, standing in the doorway dressed in his Hogwarts robes, but he was. After a long bit of silence in which everyone stared at him, Harry took a single step forward, allowing the doors to bang shut behind him. His eyes met the startled pale blue ones of the headmaster, and he gave a hint of a grin.

“Sorry I’m late...Missed the train again,” he said simply, his tone light as if he hadn’t been missing at all.

With his words, the hall buzzed into life again, but a squeal from the Gryffindor table drew attention. Then, Hermione was up out of her seat and running straight for Harry. The parallel between this and second year when Hermione had been petrified wasn’t missed by anyone. Upon reaching Harry, Hermione all but jumped into Harry’s now outstretched arms, only to find herself lifted from the floor and pulled into a tight hug. Frightened of falling, and not caring about the supposed indecency of it, her legs wrapped around his waist in a vice-like grip, her Hogwarts robes thankfully keeping things from truly looking indecent.

As the familiar scent of Hermione washed over him, intensified now with his senses as they were, Harry buried his face into the crook of her neck as he held her. He could feel those legs of hers wrapped around his waist, and moved his hands lower, keeping her better balanced. The sounds of the great hall washed over him, but then were drowned out as Hermione said something right next to his ear.

“Never, ever, ever do that again...” she whispered. “I can’t stand it.”

Pulling back now, Harry gave her a smile. “I promise...I didn’t really enjoy being away from you much either. But I had to do it, Mione...I’ll explain later, but just know I had to.”

Slowly, he set her back down, and the two made their way to the Gryffindor table. The two slid into their respective seats, Hermione now taking the place right next to Harry as if scared he’d suddenly disappear again otherwise. Finally, Dumbledore stood up from his seat, eyes still upon the black-haired Gryffindor boy for another moment before he finally swept his gaze over the room.

“In light of Mr. Potter’s return, the speech I had planned is no longer relevant,” Dumbledore began, noticing that he had Harry’s undivided attention. “But before I really get into things, let us welcome him back.” There was a sudden chorus of “Welcome backs” and clapping from professors and students alike, that at any other time would have likely sent the normally shy boy into hiding. Instead, Harry stayed put, his hand grabbing blindly for Hermione’s for support as he accepted the welcome. Perhaps being the “Lord” of werewolves and vampires has done me some good, Harry mused, a slight smirk curving his lips as everyone settled down. At least I can handle the attention now.

His eyes again met those of the headmaster, and he raised an eyebrow, waiting for the man to continue.

“In these dark times, I shouldn’t have to remind any of you to stay clear of the Forbidden forest. However,” he gave a wry glance in the Trio’s direction at this. “Some of you have a hard time remembering this fact. So I will say it again, as much for some of our older students as for our first years. Also, as many of you witnessed given what happened to Ms. Umbridge last year, the Centaurs are restless and will not stand for students entering their territory.” A few of the older students chucked at this, remembering clearly the state Umbridge had been in upon her return from the forest. His speech rambled on for a while, covering the full extent of what precautions should be taken with the return of Voldemort, and telling/reminding all that anything from Weasley Wizarding Wheezes was strictly forbidden to be used in the halls or risk the wrath of the caretaker, Filch.

When Dumbledore was seated and the feast really began, those closest to Harry pelted him with questions about his summer, wondering where he’d been, what he’d done and all that. He allowed them to blurt out their list of inquiries, smirking the entire time. And none of them noticed the way the food on his plate remained untouched, except for Hermione who grew more and more worried as he seemed to not even care it was sitting there. Finally, during a lull, she leaned towards him and whispered in his ear.

“You ok?”

Frowning, he tilted his head towards her. “What do you mean?” he whispered back, curious.

“You’re not eating...”

“Oh...” he seemed to realize this, and glanced at her. “Just not hungry I guess...”

Laying a hand on his shoulder, completely unaware of the watching and jealous eyes of their best friend, she gave Harry a concerned look. “You sure? I mean, if you’re not, you’re not, but...no offense of course, but you’re almost as bad as Ron at the feast.”

Catching her real concern in her tone, Harry turned his head to her now, giving a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, I swear. But...well...it has to do with what I’ve got to tell you later...I figure I’ll tell you when I do Dumbledore or something. He’s gonna wanna talk to me after that entrance of mine.”

Smiling, she nodded, allowing her tone to return to normal now. “I’m sure he will...”

“Who’s gonna what?” Ron asked, drawing Harry and Hermione’s attention back to him.

“Oh...” Harry seemed to pause a second longer than necessary, then glanced at his friend. “Dumbledore...I figure he’s gonna wanna talk to me about my entrance and summer and all...”

“So do us,” Ron said, gesturing between himself and Hermione. “I mean, you’re our best mate and all of a sudden you disappear on us? We thought you were dead.”

Harry hung his head, glancing at the two from under his bangs. “I heard as much...I just...I couldn’t...I didn’t...” He sighed, and then tried again. “Without Hedwig around I couldn’t very well send you a note really...I figured you’d be at his house,” Harry said, putting emphasis on the word ‘his,’ knowing Ron and Hermione would know who he was referring to.

"But still...nothing? At all? For what? 2-3 months?!" Ron seemed to be getting more upset as he went on, and so in order to prevent an explosion from happening in the middle of dinner at the table, Harry raised his hand to silence his friend.

"Look...I can't explain here ok? Wait till after dinner..."

Ron seemed about to fight it when Harry pinned him with a meaningful stare, and Ron sighed heavily. "Alright," he said, and then pointed his fork at Harry in a threatening manor. "But you better answer all our questions or I'm gonna hex you."

Smirking, Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're forgetting that I can take you in a duel easy...it'd be scarier to have Hermione or Ginny threatening me."

At this point, both girls leaned in, a glint in their eyes. "Oh we will," Ginny informed him. "I mean, with not even Dumbledore knowing where you are exactly? That's going to take a good bit of explanation."

"I know, Ginny."

The way he said that ended the conversation, and it seemed that Ron, Hermione and Ginny sped up their eating in hopes of being able to hear this story of his sooner. But rather than attempt to eat the food that before was so appetizing, Harry only pushed it around his plate. Then, the smell of a slightly undercooked steak caught his attention, and after sliding off a huge portion of mashed potatoes, Harry pulled the steak onto his plate, and tore into it, actually able to enjoy the flavor of this, with its undertones of lingering blood. Upon seeing his friend eating the still red/pink-tinged steak, Ron made a face.

"What on earth are you doing mate?" He pulled the platter of steak closer and was about to push one that was more well done onto Harry's plate when Harry looked up, and frowned.

"I'm eating...and this is all I want..." Harry used his fork to block the steak Ron was trying to push onto his plate. "But thanks."

"Since when do you eat your steaks medium-rare?" Hermione asked, curious.

"Umm...never really cared one way or the other actually," Harry fibbed.

Hermione was about to question this, having seen him toss meat cooked the same way back onto a platter before, but sighed in resignation when Harry pinned her with a mild glare. "Whatever you say, Harry."

Relieved that she wasn't going to push the matter, Harry finished off the steak with a flourish, and it took more than a small amount of self control to keep from licking up the remaining blood on his plate. But that small amount of blood was enough to sustain him for now, and allowed him to relax, knowing he didn't have to hurry back to Gryffindor tower to grab a bag of the blood Viktor had sent with him in a special ice chest full of bags of blood and dry ice. Sitting back now, Harry let his eyes gaze around the Great Hall, knowing that he was still holding a good deal of attention even as people worked their way through the feast.

When desert showed up, and Harry again took nothing, Hermione shot him another worried glance, but this time kept her mouth shut, realizing that to push him right now wasn't a smart thing to do. While the others enjoyed their desert, Harry glanced up to the Head table, and was unsurprised to find Dumbledore was constantly looking his way, despite carrying on a conversation with Professor McGonagall. Smirking, he glanced to Hagrid, and waved at the half-giant when he caught him looking. Making sure his power of presence was turned off, Harry sighed. Too bad I can’t just fade outta here, Harry thought. I mean, with everyone watching me, they’d know I was gone, and I don’t think anyone’s ever left in the middle of a feast before. Then his eyes glanced to Hermione and Ron, and he knew exactly how they’d react were he to use his power of Obfuscate to disappear from sight. And knowing, he couldn’t bring himself to do so, no matter how tempting it was.

It took a good half an hour, but finally the desert too disappeared, and standing, Professor Dumbledore excused all students to return to their dorms. Then, for the first time in anyone’s memory, he asked for four students to stay back. Having expected it, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all stayed where they were, waiting for the hall to empty. When finally the only remaining students were filing out of the door, Professor McGonagall came forward, collecting them.

“I should warn you, Mr. Potter, Professor Dumbledore was going to contact Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as well as Remus and have them join us,” McGonagall told him, her own more forest green eyes peering at him through her square-rimmed glasses.

After a moments pause, in which he bit back the urge to swear, Harry nodded grimly. “I figured he might.”

It didn’t take long before they were standing at the entrance to Dumbledore’s office, and Ron couldn’t help glancing at his friend. “Bet you were hoping to stay away from this place for a bit longer into the year, eh mate?”

Smiling a bit at Ron’s attempted humor, Harry shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me anymore...He wouldn’t have me come in here if there wasn’t a good reason, so...” He paused while McGonagall gave the password, and then continued talking to Ron. “And it’s not like I’ve been in huge trouble every time I’ve been in here.”

“True,” Ron conceded as they walked up the steps to the office. “But still, not many good memories of this place to me.”

At that, Harry’s entire posture changed, going from straight backed yet relaxed to a more tense form. Sirius. “I don’t need a reminder, Ron,” he retorted sharply, causing Ron to react as if slapped.

“Sorry mate...not thinking.”

“You rarely do,” Hermione cut in, moving to grab a hold of Harry’s arm and guide him into the office when Dumbledore called out for them to enter. “Ignore him,” Hermione whispered, giving Harry a hint of a smile. “Teaspoon, remember?”

The memory of Hermione telling Ron he had the emotional range of a teaspoon came back, and Harry smiled. “Yeah...right,” he whispered back, then stopped just short of Dumbledore’s desk, Hermione still at his side, her hand on his arm.

Dumbledore may have requested that just Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Remus come, but that wasn’t how things turned out. Instead, Snape stood a few feet away, obviously hoping to see Harry punished. To Remus’ right, Tonks was all but bouncing now, seeing Harry alive, and Harry had to bite back a laugh at her enthusiasm and energy that seemed boundless. Even Mad-Eye had joined the group, standing back from the crowd as Snape did.

“Good t’ see ya alive, Potter,” Mad-Eye said, his magical eye roving over Harry, likely checking for any signs of him being an imposter.

“Oh Harry dear,” Mrs. Weasley sobbed, and was about to move forward to Harry when Dumbledore held up his hand.

“While I know you want to make sure he’s alright, Molly,” Dumbledore began, “I feel we should get his story out of the way as soon as possible. Its already late, and they do have classes to attend tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Molly said, backing up to sit next to her husband in a chair conjured by Professor McGonagall, but it was obvious she still itched to smother Harry in a hug and reassure herself he was alright.

Finally, everyone took a seat, except for Harry. He glanced idly at the chair conjured, then looked to Dumbledore. “I’ll stand thanks.”

To his credit, Professor Dumbledore only raised an eyebrow, and then had the chair disappear with a wave of his wand. “I think you know I expect you to start at the beginning and tell me anything you can remember, am I correct?”

Harry nodded, and then began pacing the office as he started talking. “When I first got back to the Dursleys’ house, I wasn’t really expecting them to take things too easy on me, warning from the Order or no. It’s just not their way, after all.” Harry snorted, shaking his head. “And I was right. We hadn’t been in the house ten minutes when Uncle Vernon pulled me aside, informing me that no ‘dumb freaks’ were going to boss him around.” There was a mild growl from Remus’ direction, and Harry remembered the full moon was fast approaching...That explains it, he decided, and continued. “I was given a list of things he expected me to do every day...chores...and none of them particularly easy or fun. The list included things like keeping the front walk and the short brick wall out there scrubbed down...and he meant scrubbed...as in on my hands and knees with a toothbrush. He wanted me up at 6 every morning to cook their breakfast, which I was right in believing I’d get little if any of...Only whatever Dudley and Vernon didn’t eat...and those two can shame Ron in an eating contest.”

He heard Mrs. Weasley start to cry softly, and forced himself to block it out. “If not for my aunt, I probably would’ve gone without any food. But she snuck me things when Vernon and Dudley weren’t around. Never much at one time, but enough to keep me going. Well...until...” it was now he realized he couldn’t tell them everything...not all at once. Dumbledore prompted him to continue, but Harry frowned as he stood in one place now, trying to decide what to cut to tell at another time.

“Harry?”

Hermione’s soft tone broke into his thoughts, and he glanced at her. How was he to tell her of what his Uncle had done? The beatings? The drinking? Her heart, no matter how she tried to hide it, was still pure and full of innocence. How on earth could he show her...tell her, of how her own best friend had endured these things? But then he took one look at Dumbledore and realized the old wizard would know the second he wasn't telling him everything.

"Sir...do they have to hear all of this? You...well, I know I need to tell the full story to, but..."

"There are things you don't want them to know?"

"Exactly," Harry answered, nodding.

"Harry, you can tell us anything," Remus said from his spot near Dumbledore's desk. "You should know that."

Hanging his head, Harry sighed. "It’s not as simple as that Remus." Finally, he raised his head again to meet the werewolf's eyes. "Full moon is close, right?"

Remus seemed surprised that Harry knew this, but nodded anyway.

"If I was to tell you everything...and I mean everything...you'd likely be tempted to go and rip out Uncle Vernon's throat with your bare hands."

"Are you saying he..."

"Please...don't ask."

"Too late," Remus answered.

Harry looked to Mrs. Weasley for aid, but for once, she seemed to side with Remus. And her facial expression was slowly bordering on absolutely murderous, obviously over what she was assuming his relatives did to him. Then again, not much they didn't do, Harry realized.

"Alright...Alright," he conceded, lowering his head again. "As I was saying...Aunt Petunia kept me fed enough to do the chores Uncle Vernon asked...but well, doesn't do much good when he kept punishing me." A wry smile crossed his lips. "Took me only two days to realize why he was acting so...well...brutal, really." His eyes raised now. "Liquor...large quantities...daily...almost hourly. Kinda hard not to smell it on the guy's breathe when he's got his face barely six inches from mine and is spitting at me while he barks out his orders."

In the corner, Harry noticed Snape moving as if highly uncomfortable. He never knew, Harry decided. Snape really never had any idea what my summers were like...How stupid could he be? I mean, I come back skinny as a fucking rail every year, after all.

"Of course, the chores and starving were just the beginning. I was only at Privet Drive five days." He paused, looking at Dumbledore. "The final day I spent mostly unconscious."

"WHAT?!"

At the yelled word, Harry spun abruptly to face an angry Remus. "You heard me," he said calmly. "Days one and two Uncle Vernon used me as a human punching bag." Harry raised pulled his hair back from his face, and Remus nearly fell back in surprise. There, on the formerly unmarred face, were a few new scars, pale against his skin. "From day three of my stay, mind you, when Vernon pushed me face first into a pile of glass that was once one of Aunt Petunia's prized vases." The hair fell back into place as Harry moved his hand. "Same day, he took a Muggle golf club and used it to the back of my knees. Could barely stand." From her spot near Ron, he could hear Hermione starting to cry, and forced himself not to look at her. "Day four...I slept in...didn't mean to mind you, but Vernon had forced me out of bed at ten the night before to clean the kitchen again. Which meant I hadn't gotten to bed until midnight or so."

Sighing, Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Uncle Vernon got beyond angry at me for sleeping in...I kept falling to the floor every time I tried to get up...my legs just wouldn't hold me up. Well...he comes busting into my room, and when he sees me on the floor, he grabs me by the back of my neck and hauls me up, holding me a bit off the ground. Carried me to the top of the stairs, bellowed that I was to go help my aunt, and then gave me a little push, hoping to make me hurry up." He gave a dry, humorless laugh. "Hurried me up, alright. I fell down the stairs, hit my head at least once...then came to a crashing halt at the first landing, ramming into the wall. Last thing I remember that day is a picture falling off the wall and hitting me too. Next thing I know...I'm waking up in the back yard under some hedgerows."

As he got closer to the part of the story he was dreading having to tell them, he resumed his pacing of the office. “After that, when I did wake up, I snuck into the house and got some stuff...clothes, a little food...things I wasn’t about to leave in that house, given that I had no idea if and when my relatives would return. Made me mad that I couldn’t do magic though, as I hated the idea of leaving my Firebolt behind.” He gave a slight snort in amusement at his own thinking, and then continued his story. “I managed to get away from Privet Drive pretty easily...remembered to go the opposite direction of Ms. Figg so I wasn’t caught sooner than I wanted to be. I had some Muggle money left over from when I changed it in Gringotts, and used that to get to London...ended up there three days after I left Privet Drive. I was able to get a touristy map of the area and found a place where teens who visit Europe tend to sleep...free quarters pretty much and what not. But before I could get there I was passing a night club and saw a girl who looked a good bit like Hermione.”

He glanced in his friends’ direction for the first time during all of this, and saw her looking up at him, curious. “Granted I knew the girl couldn’t be Hermione and all, but I did a double take anyway. Guess the girl’s boyfriend didn’t like that, because next thing I knew he was punching me in the jaw. Given my other injuries I fell down pretty quick, and he gave me a kick in the ribs for good measure, then I guess he and his girl left, cause when I finally was able to get up again, they were no where in sight. But there was this guy...kinda reminded me of Remus, actually. Brown hair, kinda scruffy looking.” He gave the werewolf a grin at this, but it wasn’t returned. Instead, Harry could tell Remus was definitely fighting the urge to do just as Harry had predicted he might upon hearing of Vernon’s treatment.

Lowering his head again, Harry gave a slight yawn. “The guy helped me up, and then disappeared all of a sudden, before I could thank him. At first, I thought he was a wizard, and that was enough to have me hiding. I was pretty sure that the second any of you found me, I’d end up back at Privet Drive faster than I could blink almost. My hiding place, however, was anything but brilliantly chosen.” He snorted at the understatement. “It was an alley...and I was near the back, halfway hidden behind some trash bins. I was in the middle of looking for the last bit of food I had with me, when I heard a growling noise...sounded like a mad dog. So I reached for my wand, but it was gone. When I braved the chance to look, what I saw was not exactly a dog...”

He trailed off there, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes. “It was a werewolf...in search of a meal. And given my weakened state, I guess he figured I’d be an easy catch.” Here, all the women in the room gave a startled gasp as if on some unsaid cue. “Without my wand, wasn’t much I could do.” Here, Harry realized, he was speaking of the incident with a sort of detachment, as if it was nothing more than a story...make believe. But he didn’t think he’d get through it otherwise, and continued in the same fashion. “He bit into me...started to drain me. But...and I guess I’ll never full understand how this happened, because there was no breeze that night...but my hair moved, and he must’ve seen my scar. Granted, I passed out about that point...seemed to do that a lot this past summer actually.” Now I’m making light of it, Harry thought. Great...

Remus stared at him. “Are you saying that you...he...”

Sighing yet again, Harry nodded. “Yeah...I am.”

At those words, Remus sunk to the floor, eyes wide and staring at Harry still.

Sensing the thoughts that had to be running through Remus’ mind, Harry walked over, kneeling down. “Don’t even think it, Remus.”

Startled, the man blinked. “How...?”

“Been there, done that...” He frowned. “You’d have my arse if I blamed myself for Sirius dying...saying I let him down and what not. So you can’t do anything of the sort either.”

Before either could continue, a silky voice carried from the dark corner of the office.

“I do believe this poses a problem, headmaster.” Snape’s cold black eyes seemed to glitter at the idea that now, after all his failed attempts; he might be able to be rid of Harry. “A werewolf, especially one so recently sired can not be allowed to roam our halls.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” Harry said, standing back up now, enjoying how he now towered over the Potion’s master.

Curious, Dumbledore looked to Harry. “And why not?”

“Umm...you all need to move back,” Harry warned, stripping off his school robes and shirt, much to Mrs. Weasley’s dismay.

“Harry!” she admonished.

“Just trust me, ok?”

That seemed to be all Dumbledore needed to hear, and with a flick of his wand, the area of the room where Harry stood was cleared.

“Thanks,” Harry said, then glanced up at the ceiling, for once glad that the room was made as it was. Hate to hit my bloody head when I’m trying to show them this.

Then, he threw his head back, focusing on what he wanted to happen. The sound of cracking bones filled the room, sending many cowering as they watched his body reshape itself. Legs elongated, as did arms...chest became broader...a wolf-like snout formed itself from his face, and then hair sprouted suddenly, covering him entirely. The fact that he stood at 7’8 would’ve had him nearly hitting his head were this any other room in the castle, and made him tower even more over those in the room. His pants and shoes seemed to just disappear, rather than rip away, which was good, as a tail forced its way out as well. In his chair, Ron sneered in disgust at this, but something in him was awed as well, to see a person control the transformation so completely. When the eyes opened, they were nearly all black, with only the iris containing a real color. No longer were they green however; instead, a golden color was more prominent, with only a rim of the normal emerald at the edges. The werewolf lifted its clawed hands for a moment, sending Tonks scurrying further away, and then the golden eyes slowly raked over all in the room.

For once, even Snape had no retort, and the fear was about to overwhelm him.

Slowly, the eyes closed again, and with only slightly less fanfare than before, his body returning to its 6’5 human frame. The pants and shoes reappeared before needed, allowing him to keep his modesty, and once the transformation was complete, and Harry picked up his shirt and robes, and slipped them back on while the others recovered from sheer shock. Green eyes raked the room, much as the gold that had replaced them had, taking in those around him. While he looked at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, both of whom were obviously quite unsure what to make of this, a hand rested on his shoulder from behind.

Turning, he found himself looking down into the cinnamon eyes of his best friend, her hand still upon his shoulder. Then, with surprising force, she hugged him for the second time that night, with this time being her turn to bury her face into his neck. Grateful, Harry wrapped his arms around her, returning the hug, and yet again lifting her from the floor with ease. Another set of arms enveloped them both, surprising Harry to the point he looked up. There, a few inches away, was the ginger-haired head of his other best friend, surprising Harry to no end.

“You’re not evil,” Ron said simply, his voice carrying throughout the room in the quiet. “You’re my brother, werewolf or not.”

At this, Hermione pulled her face from Harry’s neck, nodding. “He’s right.” She gave him a watery smile. “You’re still our Harry.”

Slowly, the Trio broke from their hug, allowing the rest of the room to get close to Harry now. And per usual, Harry found himself engulfed in a hug from Mrs. Weasley that could crack ribs, which was actually rather funny, given the fact that she was so petite and he so tall. But when Remus finally got to him, his hug easily rivaled Mrs. Wesley’s.

Pulling back, the old werewolf looked at Harry. “One of these days you’re going to have to tell me how you do that,” he said, the barest hints of a smile on his lips.

“Deal,” Harry agreed.

It took nearly half an hour for Dumbledore’s office to clear out, and by the time it did, all three students were yawning loudly and wishing for their beds. Finally, Dumbledore shooed Ron and Hermione towards Gryffindor tower, promising Harry would be along shortly.

With his friends gone, Harry finally took a seat, facing the headmaster. “I figured you’d want to hear more,” he said simply, no longer faking tiredness for his friend’s sakes.

“Tell me everything, Harry. Starting from where you left off...”

Harry smirked. “Better have a house elf bring you some coffee, sir. We’ll be here a while.”

__________________________________________________________________

A/N: Well...that didn’t take long did it? LOL. I updated Faith less than a week ago and already I’m finishing up this chapter here. Too cool. Luckily, this one flowed well, so...hope Faith does too when I start to work on it. As always, REVIEW PLEASE! :)

Songs:

(1) - “Live A Lie” - Default

(2) - “I Won’t Be There” - Simple Plan

6. No Way Back

Divinity Forensis
By: RogueBHS
Chapter 4 - "No Way Back"

Author Notes: Well, previous chapter certainly got a LOT of reviews! LOL. I tried to respond to a good many of them, but if I missed yours, I'm sorry. I had quite a few people review asking if I was going to abandon this fic, and I'll say this again: I AM NOT ABANDONING FAITH OR DIVINITY FORENSIS. That make it clear enough?
LOL. I've said before that I sometimes take a month or more to update. I can not help it. Between writers block (yes, even I get it sometimes) and real life, I have no choice. But I will not just abandon this. I enjoy it too much. Hopefully that clears that matter up.

The note below will appear in all future chapters, and can be used as a reference at any time you want. :)

Just a note to those who are curious, the coven Viktor rules is a part of the Vampire Clan, Ventrue. Want more info? Go here: http://amaranth.wehostmuds.com/clans.html
And Lucian's Werewolf den is of the Children of Gaia (or Spiral) tribe. Info here: http://amaranth.wehostmuds.com/tribes.html
The site that talks about the Vampire clans also goes into their Disciplines, or special powers they either inherit or can be taught. Those will be mentioned frequently, and upon their first mention, likely given an explanation of exactly what they do.

SPOILER WARNING: Some things from Half-Blood Prince will be incorporated into this story! If you've not read it, I have tried to disquise the elements some, but either way, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. This is still a mostly Post Order of the Phoenix fiction, however. :)

Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own any of the ideas or characters from Harry Potter or Underworld. There are original characters involved, in minor rolls, which I do own, as they are my own RPG characters that I created. I'm also borrowing (with permission) a friend of mine's male RPG characters, whom he owns.

Notice: Any songs or spells used in a chapter will be listed at the end of it, just as in "Faith." Numbers in parenthesis indicates a song, letters in parenthesis indicates spells or excerpts from the books.

Full Summary: Harry's summer at the Dursley's has never been worse; Vernon is drinking heavily and using him for a punching bag (again), and Petunia is acting like nothing is wrong. And the Order seems to have forgotten him completely, despite their claims at King's Cross Station. Can he survive the summer alone? Or will it take drastic measures to keep him alive?

Main characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin. From
Underworld: Selene, Kraven, Viktor, Marcus, Amelia, Lucian, and Kahn.

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

Hogwarts - First Day of Classes -

The morning after Harry's long talk with Dumbledore dawned bright and cheerful, and it wasn't much after 7 when sounds of some getting up and about could be heard in the castle. Even Harry, who had been up until four that morning managed to be up before his beside clock read 7:30. By 8 he was cleaned and dressed for the day, and packing up his bag with the basics, knowing he could hurry back to the tower to grab whatever books he'd need after receiving his schedule. Tossing his bag over his shoulder, he walked over to Ron's bed, and instead of simply nudging his friend awake, he grinned and lifted the edge of the bed enough to send Ron rolling onto the
floor with a thud. Thankfully, Dean and Seamus were already gone, and Neville was in the washroom at the time.

"What the bloody hell?!" Ron exclaimed as he rose up, looking around to see what was going on. Upon spying Harry, he glared hard at his friend and pushed up off of the floor. "What the bloody hell was that for, mate? I was sleeping!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Its 8 in the morning Ron...you've got another hour before breakfast is over."

That seemed to wake Ron up even more, as he started grabbing his school clothes together. "Wait for me downstairs, eh?"

Harry smirked. "Alright."

While Ron rushed into the washroom to get ready, Harry headed down the stairs into the common room, looking around to see if Hermione had waited for them. His sense of smell kicked into overdrive, and within moments he caught the scent of parchment and books that was definitely Hermione, with an undertone of vanilla and brown sugar he'd never taken notice of before. Curious, he walked her way, noticing with a grin that her nose was already buried into a book. Typical Hermione, he thought, and plopped into a seat near her, drawing her attention immediately.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, surprised at seeing him. "I thought you'd just be getting up, same as Ron."

He shook his head. "Been up for a while, actually." He glanced around the room, glad to find it mostly empty before leaning towards her. "Side effect of being a lycan...I don't really sleep much."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Lycan? Since when do you use that term?"

"Most others who are of the Children of Gaia clan don't like the term werewolf...too harsh...a Wizarding term, they call it."

Surprised into silence for a moment, Hermione just stared at him. "Children of Gaia?" she repeated, obviously having heard of it. "Your sire was one of that clan?"

Nodding, Harry gave a bit of a smirk. "And yes, I know what they're known for. Rather fitting, actually, being as I normally have to play peacekeeper for you and Ron," he teased, getting his wanted result of a blush from Hermione.

"You two ready?" a voice asked from the stairs, and Harry's smirk turned into a grin.

"Watch this," he whispered to Hermione, and then suddenly disappeared from his chair. Both she and Ron looked frantically around the room, wondering where on earth he'd gone to. Without warning, a hand wrapped around the back of Ron's neck, its grip strong enough to keep him in place, even as Ron tried to crane his neck around to see his attacker. From her chair, Hermione spied a hint of Hogwarts robes, and realized what was going on.

"Something wrong, Ron?" she asked, closing up her book and sliding it into her book bag at her feet.

Ron didn't answer, obviously afraid to, when he was suddenly let go. He hurriedly jumped the last three steps, and then turned to face whoever had grabbed him, only to be surprised. "But how? What?..........................................Bloody Hell..." he muttered finally.

Harry laughed and walked down the last few stairs, smirking at Ron. "Sorry...couldn't resist."

"Don't ever do that again mate," Ron said as he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Whatever ya say," Harry answered with a grin, then glanced at Hermione. "Guess we should get downstairs then...now that I've had my fun for the morning..."

Hermione gave a soft laugh as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Yes...before poor Ron here withers away into nothing from not eating enough..."

Laughing, all three made their way out of the common room, heading down the stairs. The trip to the Great Hall was uneventful, and it wasn't long before the Trio had taken their seats, and began their usual breakfast ritual. It was one thing that the entire school saw as a sign of how "together" the trio was on any given day. If this ritual didn't occur, or simply occurred between two of them, as it had in forth year between Harry and Hermione while Ron was angry at Harry, then the school knew the Trio was having problems. Should the ritual actually take place, then the Trio was as much a unit as they were known to be.

This ritual was nothing overly intricate or noticeable if one was to ask the Trio, but to an outsider, it was almost baffling. It always started with Harry taking the plate of toast and buttering three slices, placing one on Ron's plate, Hermione's plate, and then his own. While Harry did this, Hermione served bacon and sausage to both boys, and then took only one of the two for her. Ron would pour the juice for all three, being as his arms had the best reach without having to move the cups around. Then, the trio would pick from the other available plates and serve themselves or their friends their favorites. For example, on the chance there was a plate of waffles, a stack of two was put on Ron's plate. Or if it was pancakes, both Harry and Ron found them with a hearty stack at least three pancakes deep. Since Hermione's parents were dentists and all, and she preferred her breakfast with less sugary substances, she would find herself treated with muffins or whatever fresh fruit was available.

This morning, Harry and Ron had also grabbed muffins at Hermione's insistence that they were particularly good. So, with plates piled high, the Trio conversed in their manor, which as years passed, had grown to include an increasing number of half-finished sentences and coded words. When Ginny plopped down nearby, she could've joined in the conversation fairly easily, though it was obvious that even she, who had spent a good deal of time with or watching the Trio still had trouble understanding some things that passed between them. To anyone but the trio, their conversation
this morning went something like this:

"So this summer, you were with..."

"Yeah...not that bad, actually...Learned loads..."

"Ohhh...really?" Hermione's excited voice interjected.

Ron laughed. "Now you've got her undivided attention..."

"So what about you two though?"

"Sat on our butts...worried..."

"Sorry 'bout that..."

"Well at least you've got a damn good excuse..."

"...Oh yes, absolutely perfect excuse..."

Harry gave a snort at Hermione's sarcastic tone. "Better than what it could've been..."

She gave him a serious look, and then nodded. "That's true."

"What's with the new stuff, by the way?" Ron asked suddenly.

"Gifts...and my old was rather eh...worthless given certain changes..."

"Oh...right..." Ron responded, his tone one of understanding.

"What all did you...?"

"Loads," came Harry's response before the question was even finished. "I'll tell you more later...trust me...you in particular are gonna love some of this stuff, Hermione."

Hermione gave a broad smile. "Well that doesn't take a genius to know..."

Ron looked highly confused when he asked, "But aren't you a genius?"

At this, Harry and Hermione both broke into laughter. "Aye, she is," Harry responded before Hermione could speak, causing the girl to blush and Ron to laugh.

"Harry," Hermione said after a minute, looking at him seriously again. "Is there anything else...?"

Harry ducked his head. "I can't..."

Without a word, Hermione reached out, giving his hand a quick squeeze, earning her a grateful look. But before any of the Trio could continue the conversation, Professor McGonagall interrupted, passing out their schedules. So after a short amount of banter over what classes they were all taking, and agreeing that whomever got to Transfiguration first later that day would save the others a seat, the Trio split up, with Hermione and Harry heading for NEWT Potions, while Ron made his way to the Herbology greenhouses.

But their entire conversation, as interpreted by the Trio themselves, occurred more like this:

"So this summer, you were with the werewolves?"

"Yeah. And it wasn't all that bad...I got to learn loads of cool stuff I can do."

"Ohhh...really?" Hermione's excited voice interjected.

Ron laughed. "Now you've got her undivided attention. You know she never passes up a chance to learn anything."

"So what did you two do this summer though?"

"Sat around on our butts, worrying about you."

"Really sorry 'bout that. I just didn't think."

"Well at least you've got a damn good excuse for not remembering."

"Oh yes, running away and getting into trouble is a wonderful excuse."

Harry gave a snort at Hermione's sarcastic tone. "Better than what it could've been. I could be dead for real."

She gave him a serious look that said all too clearly, 'Don't joke like that,' then nodded. "That's true."

"What's with the new clothes and hair by the way?" Ron asked suddenly.

"Gifts and what not. Anything I had from the Dursleys wouldn't fit anyway, not with the way I grew so suddenly."

"Oh. Right. Sorry I brought it up." Ron responded, his tone one of understanding.

"What all did you..." The 'get from them?' went unsaid, as they were nothing more than extra words.

"Loads," came Harry's response before the verbal question was even finished. "I'll tell you more later in private. Trust me; it'll be worth the wait. You're really gonna love some of this stuff, Hermione."

Hermione gave a broad smile. "Well that doesn't take a genius to know."

Ron looked highly confused when he asked, "But aren't you a genius?"

At this, Harry and Hermione both broke into laughter. "Aye, she is," Harry responded before Hermione could speak, causing the girl to blush and Ron to laugh.

"Harry," Hermione said after a minute, looking at him seriously again. "Is there anything else you haven't told us?"

Harry ducked his head. "I can't say. Not now."

Without a word, Hermione reached out, giving his hand a quick squeeze, earning her a grateful look. The squeeze was all he needed to know that they would give him the time he needed before coming clean about exactly what happened other than living with the Lycans for the summer. And that was a huge relief for him, of course. When McGonagall appeared, handing out the schedules, he managed a smile for the professor, then out of pure habit, groaned over having Potions first, thus beginning the banter over class scheduling.

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

Potions Class -

When Professor Snape came stalking into the room, black cloak billowing behind him, all conversation in the room stopped dead. His cold black eyes scanned the room, trademark sneer in place. If anyone noticed the way he looked slightly uneasy upon spying Harry seated in the middle of the room, Hermione at his side, no one so much as opened their mouth to comment on it. But then, Harry himself was likely the only one who caught it, with as fast as Snape pulled the sneer back into place. Moving to stand behind his desk, the Potions Master began his beginning of term speech for his NEWT classes.

"Many of you in this room are, at best, mediocre Potion makers. Yet somehow, you managed to get an "Outstanding" on your Potion's OWL." His black eyes looked directly to Harry. "In this class, I accept nothing but the best work you can perform. One melted cauldron, and you will find yourselves with an excess of free time, which I'm sure Mr. Filch will be happy to fill for you." A few students looked uneasy at this announcement, much to Snape's pleasure, and when he continued, his voice carried just a hint of triumph. "You shall be expected, before the end of the year, to be able to brew such complicated potions as Veritaserum or Polyjuice with a fair amount of ease." The look on his face was enough to convince them that he doubted anyone would manage that feat, but Harry grinned. Hermione had brewed the potion in second year. There was no doubt she could do it again.

The others in the classroom, however, looked highly doubtful of their own abilities, which were, no doubt, caused by years of diminutive teaching from the Potions Master. Snape took notice of the effect of his teaching style on these students, and felt the briefest flash of guilt for it. Yes, and being a softy would make my roll as a spy ever so much easier, now wouldn't it, he rationalized, unwilling to admit to any goodness within himself.

A pair of sharp emerald eyes watched the brief play of emotion over the professor's face with interest, tucking information away for later when Snape picked up his speech again.

"We will begin with a slightly less complicated potion today," he said, walking between the rows of tables. "A Blood Replenishing Potion, to be exact." Black eyes swept the classroom again, taking notice of how Hermione Granger was sitting taller in her seat now that she knew what potion would be made. Likely already has the process memorized, silly girl, Snape thought. She should realize that intelligence such as hers is highly prized by the Dark Lord. His eyes moved to Harry who was glancing at Hermione from the corner of his eye, highly amused by her reaction. Even if she doesn't realize it, Potter should. Especially now.

"The directions," he continued, "are on the board." And with a wave of his wand, they were. "It may also be found on page 392 of your books."

"Professor?"

Snape slowly turned to look in Harry's direction. "Yes, Potter?"

"I wasn't aware I'd be able to continue the class, and as such, I'm without a book."

Seeing opportunity to do as Dumbledore had asked, and help Harry along, he stalked to the back of the room, threw open a cupboard and pulled out an old book from the shelves. The cupboard closed behind him seemingly automatically, while Snape all but slammed the book down on Harry's station. "I'll be expecting this back, Potter. So do not loose it."

Harry put on his best 'Professor pleasing' expression and nodded. "Yes, sir."

Not impressed, Snape gave a smirk. "And don't bother trying to suck up to me, Potter. It won't work."

Biting back a grin, Harry only nodded again. "Whatever you say, Professor."

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

Lunch, Near the Lake -

"So Snape just up and gives you a used book that has all this stuff in it?" Ron asked, flipping through Harry's Potions book, taking in the scribbled notes all over the place.

"Yeah," came the lazy reply, as Harry stretched out, grabbing a sandwich from the basket Dobby had happily thrown together when the Trio explained their wishes to eat outside. After swallowing a bite, he continued. "Probably Dumbledore's doing as much as anything. Not like the git would help me otherwise."

Ron snorted in laughter, almost sending his drink of pumpkin juice down the wrong way. "Yeah...makes me glad I didn't get an Outstanding on my Potions OWL, it does," he said moments later, finally recovered from his little mishap.

"Not as if you ever actually applied yourself in that class, now is it?" Hermione asked, lifting her eyes from one of the books on Lycans that Harry had grabbed for her out of his trunk.

Ron shrugged lightly, and then lay down, squinting his blue eyes against the bright noon sunshine. "Ey, mate?"

"Hmm?" Harry asked from around another bite of sandwich.

"Don't suppose you met that dude...the Immortal...did you?"

Harry swallowed slowly, wondering on the best way to answer this. "Well...er...kinda had to," he said finally.

Ron pushed back up on one arm, looking at his friend. "Had to?"

"Well he's Lord of Lycans and vampires, isn't he?" Hermione answered for Harry as she marked her place in the book, setting it aside. "Which would mean that any lycan or vampyre in the area would meet him at some point or another."

"Oh," Ron said, looking sheepish over the question he realized was in fact quite silly. "Right...Forgot about that." After a second, he looked to Harry. "What's he treat you lot like anyway?"

"Seems alright t' me," Harry said evasively.

"Oh come on, Harry, surely you can say more than that," Hermione urged.

"I could..." he admitted, then sighed as he followed Ron's earlier movement, stretching out on the grass. "But not now."

"And why not?" she asked, obviously feeling put out over it.

"There goes the bell, that's why," Harry said, just as the bell signaling the return to classes went off.

"How on earth...?"

"The whole enhanced senses thing carries over into my human form," he answered as he sat up, helping Hermione gather things together to return to Dobby in the kitchen.

"All of them?"

"Mmhmm."

"That must make hearing the bell from inside the castle real fun," Ron said, wincing at what his imagination told him it might be like.

"Oh lemme tell ya," Harry said sarcastically as he offered Hermione a hand up. "And walking into the Great Hall at meal time is just a blast too," he admitted. "I mean, here I've got a wolf's instinct to go for meat and nothing but meat or blood, and I'm smelling all this green stuff. Talk about fun..."

"Certainly explains your reaction to that steak last night though," Hermione said simply as she took the offered hand and hoisted herself from the ground. "You smelled the blood in it didn't you?"

Harry nodded sheepishly. "One whiff of that and I was suddenly starving. Makes me glad no one had any bleeding cuts or something. Would've driven me crazy, since I didn't have anything for a good few hours before I showed up here."

Ron, to his credit, didn't even flinch at the idea of his best mate having to survive on blood now, and only gave him a sympathetic look. "That's gotta bloody well suck, mate."

Grateful for his friend's understanding, Harry wedge in between the two, putting an arm around each of them. "It does," he admitted. "But with you two around to keep me under control, I think I can survive."

Smiling, Ron and Hermione both put an arm around Harry as well, feeling no awkwardness in the action at all after 5+ years of friendship.

"That," Hermione said, sharing a glance with Ron, "is what we're here for, Harry."

Ron nodded. "Aye...Best friends to the end."

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

Care of Magical Creatures Class -

As the trio walked the path down towards Hagrid's hut, where he would again be teaching Care of Magical Creatures, Harry joked idly about what others would think if Hagrid did a class on Lycans, using him as the example. Hermione insisted that while Lycans were a form of magical creature, Defense Against the Dark Arts would be the only class to cover them, what with the way most people viewed them and all.

"True," Harry conceded, weaving his way around a few second years that had stopped to stare at him in awe. "Not many know the type of power a lycan can have."

"What all can you do?" Ron asked, shifting his book bag from one shoulder to the other. "I mean, you did say you'd tell us later."

"Professor Dumbledore wants a demonstration for him and Remus, since Remus actually never met his sire. That's why he didn't know how much control you can have over the transformation." Harry shook his head, thinking of what Lucian would do to any of his den who abandoned their childe. "I'll see if he'll let you two sit in on it...this way I'm not saying it over and over. I'm hoping Lucian can be here too."

"Lucian? The lycan lord?" Hermione seemed puzzled. "Why would you want him here?"

"He's my sire," Harry said simply, ignoring the stunned look Hermione gave him.

"He...oh my..."

Ron took one look at Hermione's expression and then looked at Harry. "Why on earth is she like that just from hearing your sire's name?"

"Ron, Lucian is the lycan LORD...he's the most powerful lycan in Great Britain, possibly the world!"

Ron's jaw dropped. "So that'd mean..."

"How else would I have learned to control the transformation so fast? Most Lycans take decades, if not centuries to learn that type of control. Lucian hasn't sired anyone in ages...I think he said two or three centuries. Most of them are pure borns, so to speak, now. Born of a lycan mother and father. I'm really considered a half-breed, like Remus is, given that I was bitten."

"Shh," Hermione warned as they neared the growing crowd of students around Hagrid's hut, and then waved back at the half-giant before he launched into a description of the NEWT version of this class.

"Now Care o' Magical Creatures don't really have much o' a difference t' it in NEWT levels an' all, oth'r th'n th' types you lot'll be studyin'. B'fore now, most o' what we been coverin' is basic creatures tha' don' have a lot o' power to 'em. This term, Professor Dumbledore 'imself got the lot we'll be studyin. I ain't gonna lie t' ye...some o' em ain't the most friendly o' beasts, but that's why I'm gonna be havin' a helper."

At this, the class broke into whispers, wondering what on earth type of creatures they might be shown that could be so dangerous that even Hagrid would not only admit they were not friendly, but would also need a helper to deal with them. But then, the door to Hagrid's hut opened, and out stepped a young man who a good many had at least heard of. With hair as blazing red as the rest of his family and a stocky build like the twins, Charlie Weasley was still a bit of a legend around Hogwarts due to his Quidditch skills, and his appearance was enough to have the girls who'd dared take the class into fits of giggles. Upon seeing him, Harry, Ron and Hermione pushed their way towards the front of the crowd, causing Charlie to smile and wave at them while Hagrid started talking again.

"Most o' you lot know this guy 'ere, but for those o' ya who don', he's is Charlie Weasley." He noticed one 6th year Hufflepuff girl looking in Ron's direction and snorted in amusement. "Yeah, he's kin t' Ron here an' th' twins, Fred an' George," he told her before looking to Charlie to see if he had anything to say. When the red-head didn't speak up, Hagrid only nodded. "Right then, 'spose we might as well get started, eh?"

"Sounds good to me, Hagrid," Charlie said, his smile wide.

Hagrid gave another brief nod of his head, and then motioned for the class to follow him. "Follow me then, you lot."

As Hagrid led the way around his hut and towards the lake, the Trio took a moment to talk to Charlie, who had hung back a bit on purpose.

"Glad to see you're alright there, Harry," Charlie said, grinning. "Mum was about to go spare this summer when you went missing. Made being around that place a right terror, it did."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, so I've heard."

Charlie glanced around, and then lowered his voice. "Hope you don't mind and all, but mum told me and Bill about what happened to you. I think she had to tell someone...ya know?"

Harry shrugged, glancing toward the class as they gathered around Hagrid again before speaking. "It's fine. I don't care who knows, really."

"Even You-Know-Who?" Charlie dared ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Even him," Harry confirmed, earning him three surprised looks. "No one knows the full extent of the power I've got now...not even Dumbledore," he clarified, lowering his voice even more as they got closer to the crowd. "I'm not worried."

Ron, Hermione and Charlie shared a look at this, and then shrugged almost as one.

"Whatever you say, Harry," Charlie told him softly, then moved forward to join Hagrid for the class.

"Harry, are you sure..."

"Yes," Harry said abruptly, cutting Hermione off. "Like I said, I'm not worried."

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

Room of Requirement, Three days later -

Had anyone asked to see the Headmaster or Deputy Headmistress a few days into term, they'd have found themselves directed instead to Professor Flitwick, who, for the day, was to deal with any problems that arose among the students. No reason had been given for Professors Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall suddenly disappearing after lunch, with any classes the later two taught being called off for the afternoon. Just as no reason was given for the Trio up and disappearing as well. Though anyone with a brain could assume this had something to do with Harry's still mysterious summer vacation. And anyone who assumed such a thing wouldn't be too far off either. Indeed, the three professors, three students plus Remus Lupin and a
stranger were locked up in the Room of Requirement within Hogwarts walls, with orders having been given to a certain house elf to ensure that no one came near the door to this room.

Once the door had been sealed behind them, the stranger lowered the hood of his coat, revealing the same dark-haired man who had appeared at Grimmauld place with the Immortal during the last bit of summer. His dark eyes took in the room in keen interest, and then slowly focused on those around him.

"A room that takes shape of whatever is needed, hmm?" Lucian asked, looking to Professor Dumbledore. "Quite amazing," he said, a smirk curving his lips.

"Yes, it is," Dumbledore answered, and then glanced between Harry and Lucian. "Since introductions aren't necessary, Harry, whenever you are ready to begin, I think."

"Yes sir," Harry answered, and then closed his eyes, focusing on the room.

Moments later, the formerly empty room changed. A row of 6 chairs appeared near the door, facing into the room, with piece of magical glass sat roughly three feet in front of the chairs, a single door carved into it. The rest of the room became something much like the 'training area' in the underground station the Lycans lived in. 'Concrete' pillars appeared approximately 10 feet (3.048 meters) from the walls to the left and right of whomever was in the chairs, spaced evenly, and running the full length of the room. Chains of various thickness hung in disarray; some of them were draped around the pillars, while others were merely dangling from the ceiling, which was a good 20 feet (6.096 meters) tall itself. A huge pit of water took of some of the area in between the pillars, while the rest remained concrete floor. With the room now changed, Harry's eyes opened, and he looked at the others expectantly.

"Ready?"

Startled from taking in the changes in the room, the three Professors, Ron, Hermione and Remus moved behind the glass into the seats, while Lucian simply stood near them in case they wanted an explanation. After everyone was ready, Harry looked at the others for a moment, and then tilted his head. "Just show my physical ability for now, right?"

"That seems like a good place to begin," Professor Dumbledore agreed, then motioned for Harry to get on with things.

Grinning, Harry tossed his shirt and school robes towards the door into the area where the others were, then threw back his head, letting out a howl. While the others watched Harry's transformation from human into lycan with interest, Lucian grabbed the shirt and robes and pulled them into the room. Once the transformation was complete, Harry let out a bit of a playful growl, gold and green eyes focused on those in the room. Then, without warning, he jumped upward, grabbing hold of a particularly thick chain and swinging on it, sending him flying towards a pillar. The sheer impact of it sent chunks of concrete falling to the floor, while Harry's clawed hands and feet took a good hold. Moments later, he was climbing down the pillar, going round it in circles, only to jump again, this time towards the wall.

He ran along the wall for a good few meters, his body parallel to the wall itself, before throwing himself from it, landing on all fours. A few good strides and he went hurtling through a pillar, sending it crashing, while he sustained a few scrapes that healed right before their eyes. Grinning again, he took off towards the other side of the room, taking a leap when he was closer to the wall, and scaling it effortlessly. Another leap had him on the ceiling, and he was still running as if he was on the floor. Harry let go suddenly, and went falling towards the floor, only to end up flipping and landing on all fours again. Slowly, he rose into a standing position,
letting himself transform back into his human form, green eyes looking in amusement at those behind the glass.

It wasn't every day that one saw Professor Dumbledore with his jaw nearly to the floor, after all.

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

A/N: Its been far too long since my last update, so this is where this chapter ends. I am ever so sorry about the wait, and will try my best to update this again ASAP. And THANK YOU! to all my reviewers!

7. Avoid The Light

Divinity Forensis
By: RogueBHS
Chapter 5 - "Avoid The Light"

Author Notes: Sorry about the wait on this, but I've been busy as hell lately and had the world's worst case of Writers Block. More than usual actually. Anyway, here it is...the next chapter of Divinity Forensis.

The note below will appear in all future chapters, and can be used as a reference at any time you want. :)

Just a note to those who are curious, the coven Viktor rules is a part of the Vampire Clan, Ventrue. Want more info? Go here: http://amaranth.wehostmuds.com/clans.html
And Lucian's Werewolf den is of the Children of Gaia (or Spiral) tribe. Info here: http://amaranth.wehostmuds.com/tribes.html
The site that talks about the Vampire clans also goes into their Disciplines, or special powers they either inherit or can be taught. Those will be mentioned frequently, and upon their first mention, likely given an explanation of exactly what they do.

SPOILER WARNING: Some things from Half-Blood Prince will be incorporated into this story! If you've not read it, I have tried to disguise the elements some, but either way, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. This is still a mostly Post Order of the Phoenix fiction, however. :)

Disclaimer: I do not in any way shape or form own any of the ideas or characters from Harry Potter or Underworld. There are original characters involved, in minor rolls, which I do own, as they are my own RPG characters that I created. I'm also borrowing (with permission) a friend of mine's male RPG characters, whom he owns.

Notice: Any songs or spells used in a chapter will be listed at the end of it, just as in "Faith." Numbers in parenthesis indicates a song, letters in parenthesis indicates spells or excerpts from the books.

Full Summary: Harry's summer at the Dursley's has never been worse; Vernon is drinking heavily and using him for a punching bag (again), and Petunia is acting like nothing is wrong. And the Order seems to have forgotten him completely, despite their claims at King's Cross Station. Can he survive the summer alone? Or will it take drastic measures to keep him alive?

Main characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, Snape, Lupin. From
Underworld: Selene, Kraven, Viktor, Marcus, Amelia, Lucian, and Kahn.

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

Dumbledore's Office, one month into term -

"You're sure about this, Harry?" Dumbledore questioned his young charge, quite surprised by what Harry was asking be done.

"Yes sir," Harry answered respectfully, and then glanced askance at Professors Snape and McGonagall. "He's got to know that there's some hidden reason behind my disappearance and the fact that the Lycans and Vampires turned against him. This gives him one, and keeps him from digging deeper. Not to mention what it can do to Professor Snape's standing with Voldemort." His green eyes sparked with humor. "Other than that, if he knows, why hide it? I'm actually pretty damn proud of what I am, you know."

At that comment, Severus Snape smirked dryly. "Leave it to a Potter to be proud of being one of the more feared creatures in the Wizarding world."

Harry glanced at his Potions professor with a grin. "You know, there are rumors you're a vampyre right?"

Dumbledore and McGonagall both hid grins while the Potions Master stared at Harry in surprise for a long moment. Then, slowly, the slightest of grins curved his lips. "That certainly explains a lot."

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked to the headmaster again. "I guess that's it then, right? And I want Skeeter for this. No one else. Make sure she knows that Hermione will be present, and that's not up for negotiation either."

“I’ll take care of it, Harry,” Dumbledore assured him. “But I suppose you should be heading to dinner now, should you not?”

“Yeah...Ron and Hermione are gonna be wondering what happened to me,” he answered, and then let his eyes slide to Snape one last time. “Oh, and make sure to tell Voldie I said hello, won’t you?” Harry asked with a smirk. “Professor Dumbledore may have been the only person he’s feared up to now...but before all is said and done, he’ll fear me too.”

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

Voldemort's lair -

"HE WHAT?!" the Dark Lord exploded, snake-like nostrils flaring in indignation.

Severus Snape kept his head bowed, the better to keep his Lord from seeing the slight smirk on his face. "He is now a lycan, my lord. He's revealed himself to Dumbledore, and the others he feels he can trust. It was at Dumbledore's request that I myself was present, however."

"That old fool," Voldemort mused, his anger cooling a touch as he considered what this meant. "Tell me, Severus, does Potter realize the extent of his powers now?"

"Some," Snape admitted, finally raising his head a little to look at Voldemort. "It would seem that after declaring their allegiance to the Order, Lucian and the Immortal began training Potter in the ways of a lycan."

"Either way, the transformation can not be controlled by such a young werewolf," Voldemort said, smiling a deadly smile.

"Actually, my Lord," Snape corrected, fighting back another smirk. "He can."

"That's impossible! Only the oldest and most powerful werewolves can do such a thing!" Bellatrix spoke up from her spot on Voldemort's right. "And Potter is a weakling."

"Not anymore," Snape assured her. "Lucian was his sire, as it turns out."

Taking this in, Voldemort realized the ramifications...the changes that had to be made to his plans at once. "Potter and that wolf," he sneered, giving the term a highly derogatory sound, "will regret the day they turned their backs on me. As will the rest of their kind."

For reasons he couldn't explain, Severus Snape sincerely doubted the Dark Lord's words. After all, Harry had pulled himself from numerous scrapes that even an older and more knowledgeable wizard would have had trouble with. And while saying so in present company would have gotten him killed without thought, for the first time in his life, Snape found himself actually wishing a Potter good luck. You're certainly going to need it...

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

Hogwarts, Great Hall, Breakfast two days later -

When Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Great hall two days after Snape had broken the news to Voldemort, it was abuzz with chatter...chatter that stopped abruptly the moment the Trio was in the doorway. Today was the day that Rita's newest article, the piece that told a bit of Harry's summer, and the reason behind his transformation appeared in every Wizarding paper she could contact in time. And it was obvious that the Trio was running late if mail had already been through with the papers. Rather than feel self-conscious about it, Harry held his head high, walking to an open seat at the Gryffindor table, only to be flanked with Hermione to his right and Ron to his left when he sat down. Slowly, the whispers began again, softer now that Harry was in the room. He had, after a good deal of prodding from Rita Skeeter, finally admitted that yes, his senses were permanently heightened, including his hearing, which was likely the reason for the softer tones.

Despite the other students' precaution, Harry overheard most of what was said anyway. They obviously didn't realize that he could hear a mouse squeak as many as three miles (4.83 km) away. He heard Cho's tone of disgust as she wondered what on earth she'd ever saw in him, but when a friend of hers pointed out the wonderful changes being a werewolf had brought to his physique, Cho sighed dreamily.

"Oh, he's definitely hotter, that's for sure," Cho concurred in a whisper to her friends. "Too bad he's a...you know..."

"I'll be right back," Harry muttered to Hermione, earning him a curious glance as he rose from his seat, walking to the Ravenclaw table, stopping right behind Cho. At his presence, all at the table went quiet, staring up at him with both fear and awe. A grin curved his lips, giving him a devilishly handsome look, with his hair falling over one eye. "You know," he began, leaning down over Cho's shoulder, even as she looked up at him. "Pity you are what you are too, Cho. But even if I wasn't a lycan I'd never date someone as close-minded as yourself."

Shock was written over her features. "You...you heard us?"

Harry rose back to his full height, green eyes glittering as he looked down at her, and his grin widened. "You think I couldn't?" he asked, his voice loud enough to be heard in the rest of the hall as it went silent as well. "Cho, I can hear a mouse that just crashed into one of the suits of armor up on the second floor. What the hell makes you think I can't hear you when you're no more than a few feet away?"

There was a brief pause, and then Harry cringed. "And there went Ms. Norris crashing into too...lovely..."

"You're kidding," Cho said, quite taken aback, blue eyes wide. "You can't hear that well..."

"Wanna bet?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. At that moment, Filch came in, carrying a very dazed Ms. Norris in his arms, much to everyone's disbelief.

"Er..." Cho began, hesitating as she eyed the cat. "I think not." She then leaned to one of her friends, wondering how on earth Filch had gotten to the cat so fast.

"Secret passages..." he answered for her, "and good choice," Harry said simply, then tipping an imaginary hat in her direction, walked back over to the Gryffindor table, sliding into his seat between Ron and Hermione, both who were having a laugh at Cho's expense. "Well, now that's taken care of..."

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

Late that night, near the Forbidden Forest -

"You're late."

Harry turned, facing Lucian with a grin. "Had to sneak out...took me a second longer than planned." Harry stretched out his muscles idly, and then yanked off his sweater. "Stupid Snape wouldn't move from the damn doors, and I wasn't in the mood for jumping out a window."

"You did anyway," Lucian said simply, having watched Harry's descent from the second floor window with a smirk only moments ago. "Shall we?" he asked, shedding his own coat and shirt.

Harry gave no answer, but instead, transformed at once into his lycan form. His gold and green eyes focused on Lucian as he transformed as well. The blue and black eyed lycan leader gave a wolfish grin, and then took off at a run, with Harry nearby. The two ran easily through the forest, dodging and clearing obstacles that would have stumped a lesser creature, including a stack of fallen trees, no doubt from Grawp's latest temper tantrum. Fifteen minutes later found them deep into the forest, near its center, where a small clearing had formed, completely devoid of tree, shrub or stone. The light of a quarter moon shone down on the barren patch of ground, spotlighting Harry and Lucian as they returned to human form. Harry yawned idly, looking around the area, though he'd seen it nearly every night since Hogwarts had started up again for this term.

"Where is Viktor?" he asked, green eyes staring into the darkness.

Lucian gave a shrug as he eyed a rat nearby. "We're not alone," he told Harry simply, causing the teen to turn abruptly.

Green eyes flared and Harry smirked. "Ahh...Wormtail," he said simply, and with a wave of his wand, the Animagus returned to its human form of Peter Pettigrew. The balding man stood there, quivering quite noticeably, watery blue eyes looking back and forth between the two Lycans.

“And just what is a rat like you doing here?” Lucian questioned, enjoying the look of fear on Pettigrew’s face. “I suppose your master heard of my new pupil, did he?”

“Y...yes,” Pettigrew choked out.

Harry walked forward, his green eyes slowly turning gold, much to Pettigrew’s horror. “You know, I do believe you haven’t been properly introduced to my other side, have you?” he questioned, a grin curving his lips, and showing his fangs as they became more and more prominent.

“You...you won’t kill me, will you?” Peter asked, taking a step back in caution. “I can...I can tell you things...” he bargained.

“If you did, Voldemort would kill you,” Harry reminded him, his voice distinctly different from normal now. “You’re between a rock and a hard place, as they say, Pettigrew. So the question is, which of us is the lesser of two evils?”

It was a long moment before Pettigrew spoke again; his mind running through everything he’d seen and done in his many years of service for the dark lord, and then the things he knew to be true of the Potter boy. Surely Harry couldn’t kill him, right? He was too much his father...too much his mother.

“I’ll tell you what Voldemort is planning next...”

~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*

A/N: I just can't write any more of this right now...so I'm sending it on to the beta for her check. Sorry its short, but my writer's block is still giving me hell. Faith will be worked on as I can...and then with luck, a much longer chapter of DF to make up for this one. Later!

Divinity Forensis

1. Prologue - Getting Away With Murder

2. A Dying, Broken Man

3. Important Author Note

4. Chapter 2 - When The Sun Goes Down

5. What You Deserve

6. No Way Back

7. Avoid The Light