Warning:Mentions of Torture,Non-Graphic-Rape(Never Anything Graphic),Death,Abuse, Sex, Foul-Language, and Homosexual-Relations

Main Pairing- Voldemort/Harry

Second Warning: ManipulativeDumbledore! Psychopathic?/Sociopath?Harry! SlightlyApatheticHarry! SadisticHarry! SarcasticHarry! KindVoldemort! InsaneVoldemort! SadisticVoldemort!

AlternateReality/ReincarnationHarry! AssassinHarry!

Summery- Harry Potter wasn't always called Harry Potter. He also wasn't always male. In another life he/she was master assassin Agent. He/she was the stripper Fantasy. He/she was the med-student who hated his/her name. He/she was the mysterious killer in the paper who was never caught, paid or not for the killings. Reborn with memories intact. He will go on to seduce dark lords,overturn the wizarding world, and he will make Dumbledore look like the fool he is.

Arthur Note: A word for the wise and so I don't confuse you all later, I tend to switch types of perspectives. This chapter is written mostly in First Person Point of View but the next is mostly written from the different types of Third Person Point of View.

(Warning! May have spoilers after paragraph two)

To the Readers,

I'm new to writing fan-fiction. With a warning to the wise, my writing is often written in a erratic nature to later be edited. This editing will likely change the story-line. I thought that you the readers would like an explanation if you happen to re-read my story and become confused as to why it has been changed. So don't freak out in the reviews about how the story has suddenly changed. I'm not saying not to review about it. I do like a good review so I'm not saying not to. Complain all you want in the reviews if you want. I'm just explaining here and now that my story is likely to be written and rewritten often. Any questions about my story or sudden changes, leave a review.

I would also like to ask your opinions on future pairings. Who would you like of any of the 'Order of Phoenix' members to end up with? Who would you like of any of the 'Death Eaters' to end up with? Who should be paired from any of the staff and students of 'Hogwarts'? Leave a review with your ideas.

Any questions about the Alternate Universe Reincarnation Harry? Good because he/she is likely going to be the most confusing character you will ever read about. Any questions of why or how assassin Harry? Why? I felt that was one way to show Harry's sadistic murderous nature. How? Well...coincidences. Any questions on how Voldemort will be kind yet still be insane and sadistic? Have you ever heard of the phrase 'kind, but cruel'? Any more questions? Good. Love questions. Love answering questions. That didn't seem like sarcasm did it? It did didn't it? To clarify, that was not sarcasm. I do want questions. Leave a review with your questions and I'll gladly answer them.

From your all too frustratingly confusing author,

-Cyansan-

P.S-I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own the characters. If I did there would be more death, destruction and chaos if I had, not to mention Dumbledore would've chocked to death on a lemon drop, and Harry's 'vanquishing' of Voldemort would be by kisses instead. So no I do not claim to own Harry Potter.

~-XxX-~~-Chapter 1-~~-XxX-~

~-XxX-~~-Part 1-Death of the Past. Who I once was.-~~-XxX-~ ~-XxX-~First Person POV~-XxX-~

I watched my blood leave my body to pool onto the cracked windshield from my position upside down in my flipped over turned car that had crushed between two other so flipped vehicles. I took in two deep pain filled shuddering breaths as I knew in my mind that the ambulances wouldn't arrive on time to save me from my punctured lung, and cracked skull that I knew I had. I thought back on my brief twenty-three years of life as it flashed before my eyes.

I lived in an nun run orphanage for six years. It wasn't the worst six years of my so called childhood. I had a roof over my head and food in my belly. To me that was enough. The only problem with my time there was the annoying nuns who literally hit me over the head with a bible whenever I questioned them or their 'good' book.

The same nuns of whom I had later in my short life 'interrogated' to discern my parentage, though my parentage was only one amongst my many varies reasons why I had so 'interrogated' them. I had found from them that they had kept vital information from me. I had found that my birth mother was and I quote a 'no good whore who rightly died giving birth to a demon' and how said women had died right after naming me the damnable name of Clare Pandora Thomson. I had long since found that name to be as intolerable as it was boring.

I hated how weak she was to leave me in the damnable orphanage. I was also surprised to find out about how my father was a deranged serial killer who had been electrocuted in prison after he had stupidly got himself caught killing and torturing twenty-seven individuals. I hated how idiotic my mad father had been and how weak my mother was, but I loathed them more so that they had abandoned me for such inexcusable reasons.

It did, however, make some sort of sick sense about my coming and going sadistic thoughts that had more often than not tittered along the thin line of being homicidal. It had also made some sense of my actions so far in my first sixteen years of life before I had, to put it lightly, come about this information of my parentage. It made things so clear for me.

My parentage had brought upon me the explanation as to why and how I was like how I was. It made things ever so clear when those nuns had so 'kindly' told me. It made me at that time realize that it wasn't them that had made me this way. It made me so, so happy to know it wasn't just them that made me this way. It made me accept myself as who I truly was. That I was completely and utterly insane and that was just fine with me.

My insanity that had been brought upon me had probably started in my early childhood, and most likely had come from a mixture of nature and nurture. Nature, being from my genetics from both my parents probably less than okay mentality. Nurture, being from a few too many hits from the 'good' book and from that so called 'incident' with them the last year I was with them. The 'incident' which was when I was six that had involved an exorcism that had gone wrong very, very fast had probably been my breaking point.

I sometimes mused upon if that was what made my mind finally snap or if it was something else entirely. Was it possibly my newfound knowledge of my parents breaking the final shred of morality I had held onto? Was it when I finally knew of my genetics that it had broken the barrier of me actually caring about if I should or shouldn't act on my thoughts or was it just experiencing that torture that they had so 'kindly' given me that had given my first true homicidal thought, and action? (In my defense, my thoughts had been of causing people pain long before I had been tortured). Was it truly the torture that they had called an 'exorcism' that had broken my mind? It probably was. Nobody could withstand being subjected to a torture that was of both mental, and physical means, and still have their sanity intact. I do, however, blame the knowledge of my parentage somewhat for my instability that had caused all my thoughts of killing as something totally amoral to fly out the metaphorical window.

To me killing was as just natural as breathing. To put it simply, killing was just a rather enjoyable pastime to me. I don't care whether or not if it was a justifiable killing, a revenge killing, an 'accidental' killing, a joy filled killing, or a paid killing. Killing just brought me joy. So no matter the rhyme or the reason, to me killing was just that killing.

To me, killing was defined as a painful experience for the kill-e, but for the killer it was an enjoyable, natural, and beautiful experience that everybody should at least try once in a lifetime. (A/N: I don't condone murder. This is an entirely fictional statement from the deranged mind of a fictional sociopath or psychopath depending on your definition.)

I do remember how that farce of an 'exorcism' first began. I was so 'innocently' reading a book that I received from my school about the topic of creation vs. evolution, as I was a sort of unusual genius for being just six years old at the time. Though the word genius was putting it lightly for the level of my high intellect for being so young. If I was anything I was a genius among geniuses with my high IQ being the way it was. If I had to guess on any likely reason of the occurrence that stemmed from my actions it would be that the nuns sanity had run dry, and they all had finally snapped at the thought that there actually was an argument on the topic as well as me reading it meant that there was some kind of devil at work as the nuns had always disliked me for some strange 'unfathomable' reason.

The nuns having finally lost it, whatever it was, began screaming or rather ranting quite loudly on about something along the likes of me being a 'non-believer' and the so called 'possession' of 'demons'. They had gone right after their whole one-sided lecture in a storm of stomping, huffing, and with a bit of 'mildly' insane mutterings right after much like they usually did after speaking with the 'devil' child. I had shrugged it off. I had thought that the whole lecture was nothing out of the ordinary for them to say or do when confronted with my words or my actions as they were always on about something similar like their ranting about demons to me or about me when I did something that went against their book. As I had thought it was just their usual ranting and raving that they have usually given me on such occasions, I had ignored them and went straight back to my 'innocent' reading.

That was, to me anyway, the 'normal' usual routine of my six years of living at the orphanage. My logical mind always tended to zone out from their extremist raves and rants so to me it was natural to ignore them, and I believed my life would continue as normally as always. How wrong I was.

I had thought nothing of the confrontation, that is until they grabbed a priest, and began muttering about something along the likes of an 'exorcism'. I had never given a thought to a different change in variables in my living or taunting of the nuns so when something different so to say happened I was stunned in immobile silence for a few moments as I was working in my mind what this new different occurrence could mean for me. Those few immobile seconds were a big mistake as the nuns and priests took that few moments hesitation to run to their advantage. Before I could run screaming to the metaphorical hills they had grabbed me. They held me down as I thrashed, and fought there grasp. Their hands on my wrist were like claws as their nails dug into my skin holding me in place as they placed a chemical covered white scratchy cloth over my mouth, and nose. I mistakenly begun to panic which caused me to hyperventilate before I could cut off my breathing, so I was forced to breathe in the harsh smelling chemicals in my few moments of weakness. A few breathes was all it took before my vision had gone hazy, and I had blacked out.

I had wondered from time to time whether or not that they were the real crazy ones. That, however, was only before I really went round the twist with my murderous sadistic thoughts. That was before I delved more and more into them. It was before they had turned from more then just thoughts. Before they had become sadistic murderous actions. Before they were only thoughts. Only just thoughts.

I still had some of the fading pink scars from the symbols and passages that they had carved into my body in my childhood. The cross. That so called 'holy' symbol had been cut into my body. Littering my person from my arms, to my legs, my back, my chest, my face, but most specifically my forehead. They managed to fuck that one up, thank-fully. It turned out they didn't know how to draw the symbols evenly with the wavy ritual dagger as I was going to be their first, and their last victim. But fucking up that scar didn't deter them from practicing drawing the symbol with that same damnable dagger. Thank-goodness they started with my forehead messing up their branding in the process. It looked more like a lighting bolt instead of a cross. Later in my short life,almost all of my scars had faded. It was only that damned lightening bolt that stayed just as red, and vivid as ever.

I would doubt anybody would stay sane after ten hours a day of torture for months at six years old. Not that I was ever completely sane for a six year old. I was bound to a chair, and later strapped to a stone table. I was cut into with the mark of the cross over, and over again. They had literally rubbed salt into my wounds, agitating the cuts whist they chanted at me their 'Holy' passages of their bible, and forced subject to consume holy water to the verge of almost drowning. Nobody would stay sane after that, at least not an already unstable child.

After that 'incident', I was luckily removed from the tender 'care' of the nun run orphanage after I hadn't showed up to primary school for about two months with the nuns sorry excuse of me being just sick with no further details.

The school's personnel got suspicious when they had asked the other little orphans that I was housed with why, and where I was. The orphans had shrugged in response, and had said that they hadn't seen or heard from me or anybody else that I had been sick in the first place. This had made them worried, and strengthened their suspicion on the 'Holy' nuns claims. They had called the authorities to come investigate just where I could have had gone off to. After the police had been asked by the nuns to get a search warrant, it had made even the least inexperienced, and the more religious of them to become suspicious of the claims that the nuns had.

The police were now wanting to either confirm or deny these suspicion to leave in good conscious, or in other words they had wanted to be without guilt and get rid of the ill at ease feeling that they had gotten from this whole situations because if there was even a remote possibility that these suspicions turned to be more then just suspicions they didn't want to be held responsible. They had proceeded past the nuns saying that they had no need for a search warrant to pay a visit to a poor unfortunate orphan.

After searching all of the orphans rooms finding nothing, they had overheard a few different nuns who passed by them when they were about to leave one said orphans room. The police men were shocked as they overheard the nuns muttering about whether they should let the demon out of the basement or just kill the thing if it wasn't already dead, and dump its body. The police bounding past them with the sinking gut suspicion of just who the demon might be that the crazed nuns had been muttering about.

The officers had found me locked inside the churches basement in a room that looked a lot like a torture cell straight from the middle ages. I was bound to a cult-like stone table, and naked as the day I was born. I was as pale as a corpse, and breathing ruggedly. I looked to be as underfed as an emaciated mutt from one of those Peta commercials. You could see my bones through my pale paper thin skin. I was littered with infected cuts, old and new bruises, and whip-like lashes across my whole body. Some of the cuts looking to be in the shapes of crosses, and others in the form of passages from the bible. I was soaked in holy water, and covered in salt. The only space not in the least bit injured or scared was my face save a single cut. They also saw what looked to be a large cross being constructed behind the table. The police were shocked to say the least at my state of being.

The newspapers the following day were filled with the arrest, and condemning of the church and several officials of the church, and orphanage on the grounds of ritual torture, rape, molestation, and neglect of a child. I was taken to a mental ward for an observation on my psyche after a short stay at the more conventional hospital for my wounds. I was released under the diagnoses of PTSD by several, obviously, inept physicians, and taken into government custody. I stayed with a nice enough pick-it-fence kind of couple for a few years until I was shoved off to a government military boarding school at eleven. None of them even had any idea of just what kind of demon I truly was.

I from the very beginning, even before the 'incident', showed the signs of the development of borderline personality disorder. Now, though, I don't think that could describe my mental state in the same way. The words slightly apathetic, hidden madness, and homicidal psychopath or sociopath (depending on your definition) would come to mind if I were to describe my shattered state of mind.

I was a bit expressionless, and I had very little emotion. It wasn't that I didn't have emotion or was incapable of showing expression, my emotions where just more dulled than others with stronger emotions would be. I showed my emotions mildly when I had a reason to show them, but they were most of the the time dulled. That being said, I was most of the time emotionally numb without a reason to feel said emotions. When I did feel them or showed them they were almost always dulled. The emotions that was an exceptions to being dulled or numbed, and those that I had felt, and experienced the most with were joy, pride, irritation, anger, humor, frustration, confusion, obsession, and the emotion I love the most lust.

Me feeling very little emotions meant that I had no or little of many other weaker emotions. One being I had felt none to little disgust, empathy, and sympathy in my life. I having these very few emotions probably had something to do with my ability to murder without a conscious. Killing many hundreds without a conscious which I had finally done after I had snapped completely in my later teen years.

I was also very manipulative as I had to be. Manipulating my expression since I was young so people wouldn't get any ideas of putting me in a straight jacket or so they wouldn't just avoid me, send me suspicious glares or question my behavior or thoughts. Being a 'PTSD' victim I was watched very closely and couldn't act without care. I didn't want them to have a reason to trap me in another place I would rather choose not to be in. I choose to instead learn to manipulate my expressions to look as if I felt more than I could than to chance a straight jacket, and padded cell to match.

I also had to learn to manipulate people. Manipulate how they saw me. How they would act around me. How I would act around them. Manipulating these people into situations that would give me the most out of them. From this I learned how to read people with emotions. How to understand those people with emotions. How to use those emotions to my advantage. I was very conning in my actions. Very manipulative. I liked to believe I was very fucking good at doing it too. I could con you out of your wallet, your heart, and your life. You wouldn't even know it even happened either. Not even in death would you know.

They had thought I was just stunned after the whole church 'incident'. Stunned. Can you believe it? Me? Stunned? No. I was never just stunned. I always had the dulled emotions I do now when I thought about it. I had just broken completely after the incident. I wasn't truly homicidal until they had taken what innocence I had. I wasn't truly unconcerned about the life and death of other people until after what they had done to me. It was only after they showed me how much they had enjoyed torturing me. Only after they showed me just how much they enjoyed causing me pain. It was only after that 'incident' that I found, to my delight and their terror after their 'interrogation', I had loved causing other people pain just as much as they did to me. I enjoyed their pain just like they had enjoying doing what they had done to me . Only I had enjoyed it much, much, more than they did.

I loved causing people pain. I enjoyed watching their pained helpless expressions as I remove their less important organs one by one like one would watch a television program. I watched their blood drain from their body like one would enjoy relaxing at a riverside. I enjoyed watching their life leave their eyes like one would watch a summer sunset. Watching how the light within their eyes flicker and dim with each painful demonstration like one would watch the dying embers of a fire. I just wonder if I could've ever enjoyed this kind of entertainment if they hadn't themselves showed me the joys of torture by me being the victim subject to such things with the whole 'incident' as it was. I like to think I would, but I know deep down in my mind that they were the ones who had broken my last shred of concern. My last shred of being something a little more human. Killing what little I had of being human at the time. They were the ones who had made me a true demon. They were the ones who made me become what I am now. A mad psychopathic demon of a women.

I spent my teens thinking upon what I was to do about my future as I had gone to that horribly boring excuse for a school. I mused that I couldn't stay with that old couple for the rest of my life or with the government either. I had believed they would sooner or later, pick up on my lack of strong emotions, sadistic thoughts and tendencies, and often more occurring murderous thoughts, and more recently actions. I had entertained the thoughts of becoming a doctor. I had so loved to cause people pain. It was one of the few things I still felt any complete joy and fascination from doing. I could also use it to hide any unfortunate 'accidents' that come up much like those 'unfortunate' 'accidents' that occurred with those poor nuns at that orphanage, that of which I may or may not have been the cause for their oh so unfortunate state of being. The only problem with those thoughts is that I had no money to my name to make them more than just thoughts.

After graduating from the academy, I took up stripping to pay my way through college. Ironic? Yes? Maybe? But it was a good a way as any other to get what I want as well as allow me to freely practice new expressions, and gestures. It was amusing to say the least. Watching both men, and women fall prey to my practiced alluring gestures, and expressions. I had even made a game out of it. Finding just what made people fall to my seducing the fastest. Finding what they liked, and what they disliked just by judging by their reactions, and/or by their expressions, and changing accordingly to get the best reactions from them. I soon became the most popular girl at the establishment. It was entertaining at best, and it had payed well enough for a while anyway.

Soon I found I couldn't pay the bills as well as I used to with just the pay I was receiving from my hours at the club. The economy was going down the shoot with the middle-east trying to start another religious war on us. I, thankfully, had found a second job that payed a lot more than I could've ever hoped for what with the hard times that the world was currently facing at the moment.

Through coincidence I got this job through a very similar man to my own person. I had meet this man, who had similar thoughts and emotions to my own, when I had found him beating the living shit out of another man in an alleyway while I had been out shopping for some scalpels to test out. I had asked what he was doing. He answered me, surprisingly, that he was just beating him up for some information on a target. I asked if he wanted to borrow my new scalpels as they would work much better at getting said information. He said that would be kind of me to offer. We kind of just clicked after that when the beaten man had immediately talked after what I had offered, and to my surprise, and to our delight we still had used my new scalpels.

The man had introduced himself as Code-Name because he thought it was ironically funny when his victims would ask him 'code name what?'. I had to agree with him on that so I had introduced myself as Agent when he asked for my name. I had laughed and quirked a mischievous smirk when he had innocently asked me 'agent what?'. I had then told him 'exactly' before we both broke out in maniacal laughter. Just as easily as they came they left as both our sudden bouts of expressions were back to being in their original almost cold blank like state, but the presence of amusement still lingered in the air.

I curiously asked what he does for a living if he was killing men for information. He had assured me when I had asked him if he was part of the mafia that he wasn't a part of any gang or criminal syndicate. He told me he was an assassin. A contracted killer if you must. A man with deadly accuracy, and depending on how well you payed, no sense of morality. The higher the pay the more moral the killing. He could kill or tortured to death, men, women, children, priests, nuns, rapists, murders, the police or governors. They were all the same to him. Another face. Another hit. It didn't matter to him who they were or what they did, just as long as he was paid, and that they were dead. I asked him how well he was paid to be an assassin. He grinned a devious smirk, and told me that it paid quite a lot. I then dropped to his feet and proceeded to call him 'Master Code-Name', and beg saying 'please teach me your ways!.'

He did teach me, and he had taught me well. A silent approach, distant or not. Deadly precision, and accuracy with the utmost of grace. How to drag out torture the longest with or without the victim diving into insanity. How to shoot a gun, throw a knife, and break a bone cleanly or not. Where to cut, stab, and rip with the most efficiency, and where to cause the most or least amount of pain while doing so. Where to hit to knock someone out, kill, or to just cause the most or least amount of pain. Where, and how to disable a person. How to kill from afar or up close. How to hide in the shadows by day or by night. He was my teacher, and I was his apprentice. He was the one who taught me more of the joys of the art of killing, torturing, and stealth. I after, my training had finished, began to take some very tasty, and well paying jobs from him.

I remember I had asked him once why he didn't just kill me that day. He told me it was because I looked, and felt just like a fellow assassin so he was honestly surprised to say the least when I had asked him then to be my mentor. He had then figured if he had taught me I would be the best assassin there ever was or would be, and take all the credit for being the one to make it that way.

After doing my 'jobs', I went to medical school. I was perhaps the most studious student in attendance. Despite having two jobs, my hours at the club were at night, and my 'jobs' were very flexible. At night I worked the poll, or when I got a 'job' from my second job I had done someone in. During the day, however, I always had my nose in a book. I already had knowledge on how the body functioned, and how to break it, the only knowledge I didn't have on the subject was how to fix said body properly as well as to rid myself of the said body without a trace. So if you were looking to find me on school grounds during the day you could have found me at any time in the dorms or the library bent over, and reading from thick dusty medical books, or more recently you could find me bent over a fresh, and mysteriously 'donated' cadaver, poking, and prodding at it with a scalpel, and staring at the corpse in fascination.

Now I lay here dying. I knew by the state of my injuries I didn't have long to live. Seeing from my rugged breathing, and my intimate knowledge on the subject of dying in general, and just how many liters of blood a person can be without before they black out, and then altogether die. I frowned as I thought on how I didn't even get to finish medical school, and how all of my hard earned work was now very much wasted. Life so wasn't fair to me. I breathed a rugged sigh in disdain. My vision was starting to go blurry as my view of the bloodied windshield dimmed. My eyelids grew heavy, as I felt my body begin to become numb, and tingly with the loss of blood, and blood flow. A sudden tiredness overtaking me as my eyelids drifted shut for the last time. My mind shut down as it was claimed by the blackness that had at last consumed it.

~-XxX-~~-Part 2- Life after Death. Introductions.-~~-XxX-~ ~-XxX-~First Person POV~-XxX-~

My mind stirred awake as I felt a sharp pain overtake my body. I felt as if I was being squished out a curly straw. I felt my body being slowly pushed painfully from the slimy narrow cavern. The constriction around me lifted as I was finally out of, what I now dubbed, the tunnel of hell. My heavy eyelids fluttered open to a blindingly bright light. To my astonishment I was being held in the arms of a giant women. The giant of a women announcing my gender as being, to my surprise, male.

I tried to look down to confirm the women's claim of my gender but found my limbs were not responding to me in a way I would have liked. Instead I found myself squirming in her arms in response to my will when I had tried to move them. I hardened my resolve this time deciding to move one limb instead to make sure I wasn't paralyzed. Weakly lifting my arm, I found it much different then I had thought it had been or how I had remembered it to be. I stared at my new small limb. Blinking my eyes owlishly at the offending appendage.

Before I could react or even really think I was suddenly handed over to a pretty red haired giant or normal sized being as I had now realized with what was now, apparently, my small stature. She stared down at me from her tight hold of me with slightly dazed green eyes. She looked to be taking in my features. When my mind suddenly shot into overdrive. I suddenly remembered of the past events that had just taken place in my memory. I remembered dying, than blackness. But here I am alive,but smaller...or more probably younger. Most possibly I am younger, if it is what I am thinking rains true. As the only thing I can gather from this curious 'situation' is that I really had to have died and this 'situation' was possibly me having been just reborn. I shuddered for the first time in disgust at the thought of just what that slimy tunnel actually was. I cast the thought from my mind as it was too horrible to even think of at the moment.

My mind's musings were broken from their half thoughts when the hospital doors had suddenly swung open by a flood of three very oddly dressed people. Oddly dressed even for me. That is saying something when I was someone whom also was an equally strangely dressed individual most of the time as I was once upon a time graced with the title/nickname of being queen of clash. They were wearing what appeared to be robes from the middle ages. Before I could muse the implication of who or what these people where and are, I was thrust from the red haired women's arms to be handed over to a dark haired man, before I could even protest or even register their quick movements, as I was too dazed from my rebirth as well as the fact that if I was indeed reborn I must have a new pair of eyes to get used to, thus making me unable to really register movement as well as I should have been able to.

The dark haired handsome man lifted me gently. Cradling me against his chest. "Hello my son. Hmm what to name you now?," he mused looking at the red haired individual that laid across the hospital bed for the answer.

'So this gent is to be my new father, that is if I really had gone and died,' I mused to myself at his implication of fathering me by his say so of calling me his son.

"Hadrian Jamison Potter," the women announced, rolling her eyes. Putting her head in her hand at his tiring amusing antics, but still humoring him. She smiled slightly. She fanned a tired sigh and continued,"James, we had already gone over this and agreed on it together. Remember, hmm?"

"Yes. Yes. Lily dear, I remember. Little Harry, now I guess we should introduce ourselves as it would be rude to do otherwise," James mused acting in all seriousness as he thought with tightly clenched lips. He then suddenly smiled a large gleaming manic smile at me as he turned around swiftly to view the two others who had came into the room with him. He shifted me in his arms for me to better look at them and them to better look at me. Cradling me to him with only one arm as he motioned to the two men to come closer from the doorway.

I blinked up at the two men, clearing my vision as I did; getting a bit more used to the new sight that was provided by my new body. I took in both of their features one at a time. The first one I took in was in my opinion a handsome man. He was a bit more of a shaggy, but regal looking handsome than that of my father's more Hollywood angelic looking handsome. He also had longer straighter black hair, then my fathers crazy looking short locks that seemed to want to defy gravity. He had more chiseled features. A paler parlor to his skin. A straight nose, thin lips, and a round face with dark stubble dusting his sculpted jaw and on hallow cheeks with impossibly high cheek bones. He had round cloudy-grey eyes that held a certain madness in them that was almost hidden away from my eyes, but I saw it as I was all too familiar with that sort of madness that he had contained in them. A madness that was tightly chained, but let loose when on the occasion a situation arises that lets us loosen our hold on it.

The other was a more manly woodsman type. He was a more cute than handsome type of man. He had short caramel colored hair. Tanned skin. Dark brown eyes that glowed with a hidden feral amber that sparkled in the light. Full chapped lips. He had a square face with a strong jaw and full cheeks, sporting a nice light five o'clock shadow across them. He also had three long pink scars across his cute button nose, that went straight down his cheeks past his strong chin to his thick neckline that then disappeared from my sight beneath his odd looking robes.

My new father gestured to the dark haired man with the wonderful mad grey eyes. He spoke formally with a put upon higher than thy tone,"This here is your Godfather. Or if you like to call him, your Dogfather. Sirius Black. Lesser known as Padfoot."

The dark haired man bowed several times with a sort of overacted and outrageous dramatic flare during his introduction, much to my amusement."Yes, thank-you. I know I'm great. Thank-you," the dark haired man mocked in the same mimicked tone as James's before he straightened his back and smiling in an impossibly wide mad grin that showed way too many teeth then should be humanly possible,"It's a pleasure to meet you, mini prongs."

"And this," my father gestured to the feral brown eyed,caramel haired man,"Is Remus Lupin. Friend. Werewolf. Lesser known as Moony." The man shrugged as he rubbed his neck shyly in response as I looked upon him with hidden curiosity.

'Werewolf? Did I hear correctly? And is his name literally Wolf-Wolf? Or was it Moony? This is getting a little strange and more and more confusing,' I thought. I was beginning to now worry for my fathers sanity. I had then relaxed when I realized, and remembered my own sanity was less then ideal. I mused at the thought of if my apparent death had now put me way past going completely round the twist as I felt that I have now gone past it round the bend and came back again for another go around if I had heard correctly and that there really are werewolves where ever I find myself being now. I worry that I may never see the same bend again if that holds any truth or if I even want to.

My father turned me to face, my now more obvious to my waking mind, red haired mother. "This is your mother Lily Potter, my wife, and formally known as Lily Evans," he explained as he returned me back to my mothers thin pale arms. I looked at her more in thought. She was pretty. She had moss green eyes, a petite nose. Rose colored small lips. Freckles covering her pale heart shaped face across her smooth high boned cheeks. I noticed her long wavy blood red hair shine in the light, as her rounded eyes peaked through it. She reminded me slightly of the painting of La Naissance de Venus by Amaury Duval. Just more clothed than that painting had been.

I shuddered as I remembered what occurred just moments ago. I thought with a hidden grimace,'I have never once felt disgust in my life before...now..Now I'm officially put off with women, all because I had to experience...that.'

"And that is your annoying father, James Potter," Lily mocked before James could continue with his playful antics,"and my dear husband, leader of the messers also known as the marauders,but lesser known as Prongs". I looked onto him closer now studying his face more closely then I had before. He was handsome,that much was true, like a Hollywood star or like an angel fallen from grace. His hair had given him a crazed look as it seemed to want to defy all of the laws of physics. His hazel eyes were looking at my new mother in amusement with a slightly mad look about them, even more hidden then Sirius's was but it was there none the less. His features were more soft then what Sirius has. He had slightly hollow cheeks, but they had less depth then his had. His nose being a more softly curved, but still straight. Lips full with a permanent shade of red above his rounded chin and around his smoothly curved defined jaw. His oval face was cleanly shaven. I lastly regarded how curious his ears were. Looking to be rounded yet somehow still being a bit pointy at the ends, much like I thought an elf's might be like.

"Where's Peter? Sirius, you didn't tie him up again did you?," James asked in a tone one might use to address a dog as I watched my father pull a chair with one arm to sit on by Lily's bedside breaking me from my stares upon his person. Before Sirius could object to it, make an alibi or answer to Peters whereabouts, the door was once again opened with a loud screech from its hinges.

My mind was still trying to put all this new information together. Trying and failing to wrap my head around my new parents and their friends. But my thoughts were always it seemed to be fated to be rudely interrupted by everyone and everything. As I watched with growing fascination, an old man with a white beard that trailed to his toes dressed in robes that were an odd mix of orange and purple stripes with polka-dots on them that I thought seemed to work too well together, appeared in the hospital doorway. Said man then proceeded to walk in casually through the doors entrance uninvited as if he owned the place and had all the right to be here and that it was not at all odd.

After I had given the man I once over, I declared in my thoughts," Looks like somebody has usurped me and taken my throne place as Queen-I mean-King of clash. I hereby crown thee thy king of mismatch. You'll get your paper crown from me at Christmas."

"Dumbledore, glad you could make it," James fake cheered as he began to get up from his perch on the wooden chair to greet the odd looking old man.

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid this visit isn't just for the purpose of your heirs birth," Dumbledore began solemnly, "There has been a prophesy." James stalled in his movement to get up. He than plopped back into the wooden chair with a melodramatic sigh. Dejectedly crossing his arms at this begrudging announcement. He quirked an eyebrow at him, gesturing him in an impatient wave to urge the old man to continue.

"Just? What does that have to do with my sons birth?," Lily demanded cradling her son closer to her chest. I stilled as I was crushed into my mothers breast, smothering me in them. I began to think upon the implications of a so called prophesy and just how strange these people really are.

"Don't jump to conclusions yet my flower," James admonished as he placed his hand on her thigh to sooth her worrying outrage and to stop my mother from trying to smother me into re-death or rebirth by bosom snuffing.

"Fine! But does it have to do with Harry?," Lily sniped. Glaring at Dumbledore while she lessened her hold on me. Allowing me to breathe beautiful sweet oxygen ounce more.

Dumbledore walked closer to Lily's bedside sitting on one of the empty chairs that James had pulled over from somewhere when I hadn't been looking or when I had been, honestly, not been paying any lick or amount of attention to him at all as I was too consumed in my thoughts to do otherwise.

"It may or it may not be about Alice's son who was born hours before as well," Dumbledore explained as if this was all just a casual conversation discussing the weather instead of a life altering conversation. I regarded the old man in suspicion. Searching his eyes as I read them. What I saw I did not like. I had seen he was deliberately being vague. I also saw a tad bit of amusement at doing so. I narrowed my baby eyes at him in what could amount as a glare but in my baby form probably looked more like I was squinting at him.

"What do you mean?," questioned James with false innocent curiosity while Lily looked slightly angry at Dumbledore's deliberate act of mysteriousness.

"Yes, what exactly do you mean Dumbledore?," Lily added coldly barely restraining the venom of her words, glaring even harsher at the man. Taking a long look at my new mother as she was glaring in full unadulterated hatred at the man. I decided in my heart it best not to look at or associate with him in the future. 'If she-I mean-my mother doesn't trust him. I don't trust him,' I thought.

"A prophecy was made this evening involving a child born at the end of July," Dumbledore stated pausing for what seemed to be dramatic effect," Said child would be the vanquisher of Voldemort."

I mused at the implications of who this Voldemort was or how or what this prophecy actually was? 'Vanquish could mean a lot of things,' I thought upon curiously

"And our child?..," James questioned again before looking at the man in anger as he registered what Dumbledore was insinuating. Blocking Dumbledore from my view and his view of me in what looked to be a poorly constructed human-shield, as he stood again from the wooden chair. James spat at him, "He was born on the dot of midnight…so he wouldn't be this...this prophesied child!"

"Depends on what this prophecy said," Lily spat venomously openly glaring at Dumbledore.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not," Dumbledore answered sagely as if he was the one to state the prophecy himself.

I mused about the implications of this new information. 'A power he knows not? How interesting. And what of this equal nonsense? What would an equal be to a Dark Lord? What even is a Dark Lord? Does it mean a second Dark Lord? Or maybe a Light Lord? It's so positively vague. And this defying. Defying can be done in a way that isn't done deliberately so why assume I must be one of two born to 'vanquish' this Dark Lord when loads of children are born everyday whose parents could at the same time trice being deifying him?'

"So, it's possible that our little Harry could be the one in the prophecy?," James asked rhetorically plopping in the wooden chair. Slouching a bit and as he frowned in thought, but quickly straightened his posture with a put upon neutral expression, so fast that if I didn't see it then I probably wouldn't have seen the look upon his face of absolute resignation that was on it just a second ago.

"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore agreed mock solemnly nodding his head.

'He is so fake. I can smell his acting from here. I can also obnoxiously feel his pleasure from this obviously tense situation,' I seethed angrily in thought.

"What are we going to do then!?," Lily hollered slumping in the bed, looking as if she aged a few years in an instant."What if that insane megalomaniac finds out!?," Lily questioned holding me closer protectively, but not enough to smother me.

'Insane Megalomaniac? Is this prophesy gibberish that serious?,' I questioned in my mind.

"He'll kill both Alice's son and mine if he finds out there's a prophecy even if this prophecy is valid or not!," she raved taking a few shallow breaths before calming. I mused upon the implication about dying so early into my new life, then horrified at the thought of having to relive birth again if I did.

'I am so not re-dying yet!,' I thought totally not childish in any way with a barely contained shudder,'Rebirth is so terribly confusing, not to mention super painful and really very gross!'

"I bet he already knows it's not like there aren't any of his Death Eaters working at the Department of Mysteries!," Lily sarcastically yelled almost to the point of screaming it hysterically as she tried -and failed- to set Dumbledore a smolder with her almost deadly glare.

'Death eaters? Department of Mysteries?,' I thought as the wheels began to finally turn in my brain at as all the information came into place,'Toto, I believe we're not in Kansas anymore. In fact, I believe we're not anywhere near Kansas anymore -not that I ever lived or been there before or in America for that matter anyways.'

"I assure you, child, that the prophesy is valid," Dumbledore informed softly.

"Right," Lily drawled in disbelief and rolled her eyes in contempt.

James got up to pace about the room in thought as the room filled with tense silence as he got up from that poor abused wooden chair yet again. "I think we could cast the Fidelius Charm over the smaller more defensively house in Godric's Hollow and we'll be right as rain," James announced in a put upon cheery tone as he stopped in his pacing momentarily to announce to the room the idea that of which had seemed to lighten the atmosphere in the room a bit before he went back to his manic pacing.

'A what charm? Yep. Defiantly not in Kansas. Judging by the accent I'm still in Britain, but as I once had heard of that 'loads of places have a North', I can't be too sure on my whereabouts. I can't be where I used to be from with all this serious talk about werewolves, prophesy's and Dark Lords. I was too disorientated to notice it, or to think properly about it, but by just going with what everyone is dressed in, anybody can definitely see that this place is a bit too oddly strange to be back in my Britain. I could be anywhere from a different world, different time or a mental ward for all I know,' I thought feeling for the first time ever the full thrall of complete and utter confusion.

"Oh? I could help you there, my child," Dumbledore spoke in a faked soothing tone,"All you'll need is a secret keeper."

'A secret keeper? I shouldn't just question what's going on anymore should I? Maybe I should just go with the flow of things now. I'll find out what all of what they're saying about is eventually,' I thought in complete acceptance of the 'situation','Better to just live and let learn as they say. Better to live in acceptance then in denial or in complete and utter confusion.'

The one of the two audience members piped in."What about Peter? No one will even think that Peter Pettigrew would be the secret keeper," Sirius piped in, mock cheerily.

"Great idea Padfoot," James exclaimed as he paused from his pacing. Looking at the mad grey-eyed man. "When did you become a genius? Was it when I blinked? Must've been then because I could've sworn you were a moron before I had blinked," James smirked at him as he stood stopping his pacing all together.

"A Genius? Where? All I see is a room full of people with only slightly above average intelligence," Sirius interjected as he placed a hand on his brow and squinting to see just where this rare genius was. Stopping his line of sight on my mother. He answered his own question as he stated,"Oh I can see the genius it has red hair with a babe in her arms and it seems you're married to her. Oh wait, never mind. You must be confused. There's no genius here."

"Oh?," Lily cocked a questioning brow almost threateningly as she urged Sirius to explain that obvious insult.

"Lily," he tisked waving an insolent finger at her mockingly as he continued," You could've done so much better than this." Sirius finished as he motioned his hands at James absently as he looked James up and down.

"Could I now?," Lily questioned humoring him now as she saw where his antics were leading. The mood was lightening. The once tense atmosphere almost gone. Seemingly making everyone forget all about a life changing prophecy altogether.

"Yes, I admit I was lucky to catch such a dream," James sighed dramatically clutching a fist to his chest where his heart was while making Lily smile up lovingly at him, "The Potter luck is the only explanation as to why it could've been someone as lowly as I could ever get to 'have and to hold' as the muggle vow goes this vision of beauty"

"Yes. Now let us go to Godric's Hollow and fetch Peter," Dumbledore interrupted like a wet blanket. Dampening the mood, making the air hang again with that, same once again, tense atmosphere.

~-XxX-~~-Part 3- A Mothers Instincts. Viewpoint.-~~-XxX-~ ~-XxX-~Lily Potter POV~-XxX-~

There were times when Harry acted strange. Even his birth was strange. Lily Potter sat on the rocking chair staring silently at her son playing with his white toy snake with ruby red eyes. Sighing she took a sip of tea absentmindedly as she became lost in her memories of the past year in a half with her Harry. He was and still is too oddly quiet for his age. He didn't even cry when he was born. Didn't cry when he was hungry or needed changed. Didn't make any noise at all in fact and it scared her immensely. She would never admit it at loud, in her thoughts or even if anyone ever asked, but his eyes held too much intelligence for one so young.

She only ever heard her child laugh when James's friends came over to make trouble or when she or Severus made sarcastic comments about something or someone, though strangely enough her baby seemed to hate Peter with immense passion for whatever reason. He always glares at him, when he comes over. She knows her son doesn't have a reason to glare at the poor man, but she finds it oddly suspicious that he does, especially so now that she has begun to noticed that her baby wouldn't laugh at the marauders jokes when he was in the room with them.

'Just what is so wrong with poor Peter that my son resents him so?', Lily questioned in her mind as she sipped more of her tea.

Sighing. She does love her son, but she has felt him to be too scarily strange. She knew now that Dumbledore was right, Alice's son was not going to be declared the so called prophecy child anytime soon. Alice's son was far too normal to be it. Her son was not in any sense normal.

She remembers the day he was born. Asking if he was okay just after his birth as he wasn't crying like newborns were said to do. Being told by the nurse that he was fine healthy boy as she handed him to me in a stunned daze and a quick congratulations as she seemingly vanished altogether to go get James and company.

Her child was not as she expected him to be. He didn't look so much like James with her eyes as everyone had thought he would look like. He did have her almond shaped green eyes, but they were more intense, more vivid, and a more luminescent emerald green dulling her soft dull moss green eyes in comparison. His hair was black like his fathers, but was by far darker like raven feathers, more tousled than unruly (unlike his father's un-tamable mess), and soft like freshly woven silk. His face was heart shaped, ending with a softly curved, but pointed chin. He had a Grecian nose. High cheekbones concealed by chubby baby cheeks(No doubt he would loose when he grew older). Round ears almost pointed at the ends, and he had pale skin tinted a slight shade of pink in, but only in, his chubby baby cheeks. He looked more like a porcelain doll than her child as she glanced upon his face. Lips colored red and shaped in what looked to be a permanent pout-y face and his long black eye lashes blinking owlishly at her as she continued her survey of him.

She stared at him in a kind of dazed stare until James, Sirius, and Remus burst through the door drawing her attention away from her evaluation of her son's appearance. She remembers the blank expression her son gave her as she named him. Or the same unchanged look as I introduced James as his father and when I was introduced his mother as well as his blank stare at his godfather and Remus.

She remembers that a few hours after that when the old headmaster came over to warn us of that thrice damned prophecy as her son just stared at him looking like he had just seen a very rare creature. The first time she ever saw his expression change from the blank expressionless stare to a slightly amused one to an irritated one finally settling on a confused one before all expressions were washed once again. One thing she found even stranger is that her child never wanted to look at the old headmaster's whenever he came to visit sense. Ignoring him entirely. Even when the headmaster tried to get her son's attention he ignored him like he wasn't even there.

'Maybe my son doesn't trust the man just like how I don't trust him,' Lily mused in her thoughts.

She remembers that he learned to crawl earlier than any of the other children his age, and a few days after he learned to walk. He still doesn't talk, but one look in his unusual too intelligent eyes and she fears she knew why. She remembers the time she first did magic in front of her baby, the only time she felt he ever truly looked like a true child.

She was setting the table for dinner while he was in his high chair, when as she absentmindedly took a glass from the cupboard to set on the table, she had dropped it. Shattering it completely. Pulling out her wand with a quick Reparo, it had mended itself from its broken pieces. He looked at me with such child-like wonder like whatever I did was impossible, amazing, and all too wonderful than it was filled with curiosity and an expression of emotion that she couldn't read. She knew one thing however was that whatever she did she flipped a light-switch in her son's mind as she had watched her sons gaze flick to my wand, then to me,to the glass finally settling down to rest at his hands.

Then she remembers what happened a few maybe days or a few weeks after that. His first bout of 'accidental' magic. He somehow had made to appear out of thin air a toy white snake. The same toy white snake that he's now playing with. She didn't know if he had summoned it or if he had created it out of something, but it had just appeared. The white snake had also made Dumbledore nervous for some strange unfathomable reason when we had showed it to him after James boasted about his son having showed already the signs of magic at just six months old. She also remembers how her son was moving objects in his room when he couldn't reach them when he thought she wasn't looking. Or him generally and impossibly using magic deliberately when he thought she wasn't looking. Or on the rare occlusion she had caught him reading about magic from the family tomes, then impossibly proceeding to use said magic from said tomes, wandlessly and wordlessly when he again thought she wasn't there.

After being lost in her memories she hadn't noticed James walk in or place his hand on her shoulder until she flinched at hearing his voice breaking her from her memories."Lily dear," James began rubbing her shoulders,"It's almost eight 'o'clock"

"Yes, I suppose it is," Lily breathed out," I should get Harry to bed shouldn't I"

James stared at her oddly for a good few seconds before enveloping her in a warm gentle embrace when she stood."He's not going to came for Harry, Lily, He doesn't even know about the prophecy," James soothed.

"I know…it's just…just…never mind…You're right. I'm just being silly," Lily choked out. Looking not in the least bit reassured with his words for the reminder of the prophesy. She walked over to Harry and picked him up carefully not to show how indecisive she was about picking up her own child. She always felt like he could just go and do it himself and she felt like she should just let him go on and do it on his own. She quickly walked him to is room and into his crib.

'He is just fifteen months old. Why do I feel as if he is already old enough to make decisions for himself? It is all too strange. Weren't mothers all on about babying their children? Where were my mothering instincts or were my mothering instincts intact and telling me I'm just not needed? It's all too strange,' she sighed aloud at her thoughts.

"Goodnight and happy Halloween my son," she cooed aloud awkwardly,kissing him on the forehead. 'Strange or not he is still my son,' she thought finally as she left the room.

End Chapter 1/? Last Edit- 3/16/2016