01

A grand, vast sky, multitudes of stars winking in and out, blanketed over a resting world. The moon was full, momentarily blotted out by wisps of clouds, dappling Privet Drive in silver light. Calm and average Privet Drive, so unlike the cheery parties and elated folk strolling the streets that particular night. There were two worlds under the light of the moon, one in slumber while the other remained in secrecy.

Being the definition of normal, there were no late-night parties being held in Privet Drive. All the houses were cookie-cutter, the occupants sleeping the night away. In the morning, they would wake up, go to work or school, completely unaware that their peaceful, normal lives had been saved.

That night, Privet Drive had the honor of being a part of something quite unusual, as every single streetlamp had its light stolen. Systematically, globules of light drifted from the tops of tall metal beams, zooming through the air into a small hand-held devise. Within seconds, Privet Drive was immersed in darkness. If a sleepless man or woman was to peek out a window, they wouldn't see a single thing. It was for the best that no random insomniac could witness what was about to occur, because this night had already left the safe realm of normal.

An old man strode down the drive, slipping the hand-held devise housing the streetlamp's light into a pocket. Just by himself, the man was an oddity. From his periwinkle robes, stitched with silver moons and suns, to the half-moon glasses perched on his crooked nose, he was just the unusual sort of character that Privet Drive despised. Bright blue eyes twinkled behind the spectacles, his hair long and white under a pointed hat.

This was a man with a mission.

"What're they gonna do with him?" asked a male voice.

"Give him I good home, I hope," came a young woman's voice in reply.

"I dunno, Aerith," said the young man. "Those people in Number Four . . . they're kinda not the type to accept his kind. I don't think I'd want them raising him, even if they were accepting."

Aerith hummed in agreement.

"There's nothing we can do," she murmured regretfully. "There was no way of telling something like this would happen. We did our best . . . and he'll have a "big brother" of a sorts."

"I hope we did," said the young man in a grumble. "I don't wanna get skewered."

"What about the others?" asked Aerith. "I saw you gave him that book of his."

He made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat.

"Yeah, well - he wouldn't be him without that stupid poem. . . . I hope he can forgive the cliché."

Aerith's light giggle filled the air.

"Come on, Zack," she said. "We still have a lot to do and he's not even ready for this yet. We can discuss living conditions later."

"Gotcha!"

When Molly Weasley, mother of six and soon to be seven, opened the door that morning, the last thing she expected was to find two wrapped bundles at her feet.

It was early and quite cool, dew clinging to the grass outside. The chickens were clucking away in the hen house, making their presence known to the world in their attention-seeking ways. Even more insistent were the two bundles at her feet. In fact, at that moment, they were pretty much the center of the universe. Mostly because Molly Weasley couldn't tear her eyes away, locked in frozen and uncomprehending shock.

There were two infants laid at her doorstep.

One was dark-haired and watching her calmly, a small hand playing with the edge of a beige blanket. Big, crystalline blue eyes were fixed on her, although she was fairly sure they were too young to see that far. His single patch of black hair stuck up in the back, somewhat resembling a chicken's backside. It was bed head at its finest.

The other child was redheaded, equally blue eyes staring at her. Only, this baby wasn't quite so calm. In fact, the child was more or less thrashing around in a frenzy, wailing at the top of his lungs, kicking the blanket off.

Molly's heart instantly melted, before outrage settled in. She couldn't imagine what kind of horrible people would leave babies out in the cold. She reached down, awkward from the weight of her swollen stomach, and cradled the both of them in her arms. After having the twins, Fred and George, she had gotten very good at handling two children in her arms at the same time. These strange new infants were easier, because they weren't actively trying to escape her grasp.

"ARTHUR!" she yelled. "COME HERE!"

There was a thud and a slam, before Arthur Weasley came barreling down the stairs. His eyes were wide and he looked a little pale.

"Oh dear, what is it?" he asked frantically. "Are you feeling alright? Is it time? Already?"

"Look here," she said, proffering a child for him to hold. "They were – they were just left there!"

Her face morphed into pity, dismayed for the poor infants.

"What kind of monster would leave two babies out on a stranger's doorstep?" she asked mournfully. Tears prickled her eyes and she knew pregnancy hormones were kicking in. That didn't make it any less sad. "The poor dears."

"They're cute," said Charlie as he ambled over, a Short Tail of Dragons by Nashi Dragneel in one hand. He had been absorbed in that particular book for a while. "Where'd you find them?"

Mrs. Weasley ignored him for favor of kneeling on protesting knees and picked up the package that lay on the ground, fumbling with it for a second, due to having only a single hand free. A red hardback book fell out, hitting the ground with a dull thump and laid there innocently. She blinked at it, and then looked further into the package to ensure she didn't miss anything of importance.

There was a slip of paper. She scanned the page, her frown growing with every word before she huffed.

"I don't believe it! The nerve!" she cried out fiercely. "How could they leave their children – give them to strangers, no less?"

"What does it say?" Mr. Weasley asked, wrestling with the dark-haired boy, who seemed much stronger than an infant should be. The child was going to leave bruises on his arms. "OW! No biting, that's very bad!"

Too bad he couldn't do intimidating if his life depended on it.

"It says: 'The annoying' - oh, yes, and they're even rude to the poor things - 'redhead is named Genesis Rhapsodos. Give him the book – he can't seem to live without it. The dark-haired child is Angeal Hewley – take good care of him – then it crosses out him and says 'them, sorry'," Mrs. Weasley informed him, her scowl growing darker and darker. "'If Genesis shows the beginning signs of any kind of unusual illnesses (such as: heal spells and potions being ineffective, slow healing, scatter-mindedness and I pity you with trying to differentiate normal Genesis from –' and I won't repeat what it says here . . . anyway:

"You get the picture. IMMEDIATELY take him to St. Mungo's. Good luck. You're gonna need it.'"

Now Mr. Weasley looked worried.

"Why would they wish us good luck with mere children?"

"They can't possibly be any worse than Fred and George," Mrs. Weasley said with a scoff.

She really should have known better.

"GENESIS RHAPSODOS WEASLEY, YOU GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Mrs. Weasley stormed around the yard, searching for one infernal rust-haired boy.

"SO HELP ME, WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!"

"Whatever do you want with me, Mum?" said the boy in question, nose buried in his Loveless.

"That poem," she growled under her breath.

Sometimes she thought the person who wrote that note knew he was going to be such a handful. . . . Of course they did. They wouldn't have wished Mr. and Mrs. Weasley good luck if they didn't know Genesis would be the devil incarnate. Not only was he worse than the twins in some ways, but he had even more energy then them, as well. She couldn't believe, even after over a decade, how much stamina the boy held. There were times she was tempted to order him to run around the house until he dropped, just to see how long he could keep it up.

"Genesis Weasley, you get over here! I have a bone to pick with you!" she snapped angrily.

There was a thump and a small redheaded boy landed in front of her, having dropped from two stories up. She was fairly certain their bones were reinforced with titanium alloy, or something of the likes, to be able to take the abuse they put themselves through.

Honestly, she had gotten used to their odd little quirks. Angeal and Genesis had literally no fear of heights, unlike most normal children. They actually enjoyed being up in high places, risking life and limb. She had seen the boys on the roof of their house, standing on the edge, looking completely at bliss while their poor mother nearly had a heart attack and died. Genesis was inordinately good with fire (a natural-born pyromaniac) and magic in general. He had been using magic since he had his first accidental magic incident (blowing up the oven).

His blue eyes were wide and blameless, hair that was a shade of crimson even deeper than the Weasleys' sticking around his head wildly. It straggled to his shoulders, framing his face, and not for the first time she wished he'd let her cut it. The boy was downright stubborn about his hair, though, and refused to let her within a hundred meters of him with a pair of scissors.

"Yes, Mum?" asked Genesis angelically.

Mrs. Weasley wasn't fooled.

"Why are the socks I just finished knitting in ashes on the floor?"

Genesis, devilish as he could be, wasn't immune to Mrs. Weasley's evil eye. At least not yet, anyway. She tried to pretend that moment would never come. The day he stopped being terrified of her Evil Eye was the day she would lose all control of his fits of pyromania. It was a truly frightening thought.

"It was an accident, I swear!"

"Burning up the socks, three of our chairs, two portraits, and your alarm clock was a mistake?" she asked severely.

Genesis frowned, his eyes becoming slightly watery.

"I have a hard time controlling it!" he said plaintively. "The magic just come out of no where when I'm upset. . . . Like when the clock went off early."

Mrs. Weasley's face softened.

"Well, if that's the case. . ."

Then she spotted the poorly veiled triumphant look.

"GENESIS . . .!"

That day didn't turn out very productive for anyone.

Sometimes that book of his would drive her crazy as well. If she had known what would happen when he learned how to read and cracked open Loveless, she would have strove to make sure he never laid eyes on the book. From the moment he beheld the glory that was Loveless, it was all over.

It was a couple weeks after the socks incident that Mrs. Weasley finally had enough and turned to the only person, other than herself, who could reason with Genesis. She didn't like to have to drag Angeal into the mess, but the boy had a famously even temperament that made him perfect to talk Genesis down from his crazier stunts. Like trying to jump off the top of the roof with a sheet and hope to fly.

"Angeal, dear, could you go take that infernal book from your brother? If I have to hear him quote it one more time, I'll go mad." Mrs. Weasley looked up from her knitting with a slightly guilty smile. She knew Genesis loved Loveless (no pun intended) to death, but she really wished he wouldn't quote it all the time, as if it was gospel.

Forget that – even holy men didn't recite scripture as much as Genesis quoted Loveless. He was truly obsessed.

"Sure, Mum," said Angeal. He marched over the Genesis and snatched the book away. "Sorry, Mum's orders."

Genesis gave a loud shout of protest, throwing a mini temper tantrum before he stomped outside, throwing one last betrayed look at Mrs. Weasley (who tried not to feel horridly guilty) and slammed the door closed. He would probably go and blow a few things up, maybe start a couple forest fires. If there were any innocent houses lying around, well, Mrs. Weasley felt for them. She just hoped he wouldn't get into another fight, but honestly it was too much of a pain to try and stop him.

She looked down at the red hardback book in her hands and . . . realized it wasn't a red hardback book. She blinked at the dull gray paperback, which had the words: "You Just Got TROLLED!" written in bold back, with a picture of a strange face that had a crooked jaw under it. And just like that, she knew exactly what had happened.

She had to take a moment to appraise Genesis's acting skills before she went nuclear.

"GENESIS RHAPSODOS WEASLEY! GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!"

And then: "ANGEAL, YOU COME HERE TOO!"

It was dark, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were about to lose it out of worry. Their newly-turned eleven year old adopted sons had ran outside six hours before, and they hadn't returned. It was nearing midnight, and none of the Weasleys had seen hide or hair of the mischievous boys. The prank was quickly becoming over the top, even for their strong tastes. They had never disappeared for so long before, and Mrs. Weasley was out of her mind with worry over them.

Charlie and Bill were there, having visited for their birthday, and had joined the frantic search. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had their wands out and were using them for light to see in the darkness. So far, they had found nothing but fields and the occasional gnome (Charlie had let out several creative curses when one of them bit his foot rather hard). There wasn't a trace of Genesis's rust-colored hair, or Angeal's bright blue eyes.

"Mum!" Fred and George bounded over, holding up a lantern. They weren't old enough to use magic outside of school, so they were stuck with lanterns. "We looked all over the south side – we didn't find anything!"

Mrs. Weasley frowned worriedly. "Alright, Fred, George. Why don't you take Ron and Ginny back to the house?"

"What?"

"But, Mum!"

Four children wailed in protest at the same time. She gave them her best listen-now-or-pay-the-consequences look. Very reluctantly, the twins and Ron and Ginny returned to the house. They were just as worried their parents, she knew that, but she didn't want any more of her children wandering around after dark. She looked back out over the fields, wishing she could see a sign – any sign – of where her two adopted sons might be. They had gone missing before, but not for nearly so long. Usually, they would wander off exploring and forget the time. But this time she was really, truly afraid.

Mr. Weasley ran to Charlie, who was jogging up the them with his wand out.

"Have you seen them?"

Charlie shook his head.

"Percy thought he saw something and he ran off, and I tried to follow, but I've lost him," he said. "Hopefully he doesn't get stuck in a gopher hole."

"Where did he go?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a rush. Had Percy gone missing now, too? It was a mother's worst nightmare.

"Over there," Charlie pointed off to the east.

Mrs. Weasley took off at full-steam.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Angeal asked.

Genesis pushed through shoulder-length grasses, wincing as the sharp blades sliced into his uncovered skin. Water sloshed around his ankles from a recent downpour and he was glad to have thought to wear galoshes. Usually he would never subject himself to this kind of torture, but he had received an owl earlier that morning telling him to take Angeal and come out to about a half-mile away from the Burrow. It was probably a stupid thing to follow instructions from a letter written by a stranger, but Genesis was curious. Once Genesis got curious, there was no end to the stupid things he could do.

Besides, Angeal and Genesis together were more than a match to fight against any people who wished them ill-will. Genesis would torch the idiot who dared cross them, and then Angeal would knock them out of their misery. Afterwards, he would berate Genesis for setting them on fire, because that hurt people. As if Angeal's monster punches didn't hurt people either, Genesis thought sourly. From there, they would drag the stranger back to the Burrow, get lectured ruthlessly for answering such a shady letter, and the Idiot would have "justice" handed to him or her by the rest of the Weasley family.

All in all, it was a good plan. Sure, they would probably get grounded for ten years, but Genesis wasn't very afraid of breaking the rules. If he cared about rules and regulations, he wouldn't have gained the honorable title, troublemaker of the family (right next to the twins). Luckily, the Weasleys had Angeal to reign the rust-haired boy when he got into one of his prank moods. Or when he got in one of his simply destructive moods. Angeal could sort of keep Genesis from doing anything too explosive.

That wasn't even counting in the times when Angeal went along with his harebrained schemes willingly. He had a feeling the rest of the family would be shocked, or amused in the twins' case, to know how many stunts Angeal actually helped him out on. He wouldn't have gotten away with half the amount of stuff he did if it weren't for Angeal. As it were, he wouldn't have been able to sneak away from the Burrow without anyone noticing if he didn't have help. Fortunately for Genesis, this was one of those times when Angeal was cooperative. Sort of.

Genesis made a face as a tall strand of grass whipped into his face, his cheek stinging as the razor-sharp tip cut into his skin. He wiped away a line of blood, unconcerned for his health. He and Angeal had always healed incredibly fast.

"It'll be fine, Angeal."

Angeal stomped over a rotting log.

"It seems like common sense not to reply to mysterious letters."

"Your point?" asked Genesis. "You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"I'm just making sure you don't get into too much trouble," said Angeal with a sigh.

"I am perfectly capable of handling myself!" snapped Genesis, annoyed.

"Uh huh, sure you are," Angeal agreed readily.

"Shut up, Angeal."

"I didn't say anything."

Genesis stopped abruptly. He batted a few wispy grasses away from his face, only to nearly tear a chunk of hair out when his fingers got caught in his tangled bangs. Fighting down the urge to set something on fire (he really hated it when his hair gave him grief), he looked around cautiously. Before them was a seemingly deserted clearing, the water level dropping so that solid ground was visible. It was here the letter instructed them to come, but there wasn't anyone waiting for them. At least, there was no one he could see. It was cold and even though water subsided in the clearing, it had raised around his ankles so he was standing in an inch of mud. He could feel his body heat take vacation into the atmosphere.

He shivered, wishing suddenly that he had a wand. He knew plenty of spells (the older boys' really should have known better than to let their books lay around where he could get his hands on them) and his control was perfectly fine. He didn't know why Mrs. Weasley wouldn't just crack down and get him a wand. So yeah, maybe he was underage, but there had to be a way around that pesky little law.

And that was probably the reason she wouldn't get him a wand.

Angeal and Genesis exchanged a glance before moving out to skirt the clearing, paranoia keeping them cautious. Genesis held up his hand, a small ball of fire lighting up the darkening sky. If anyone was going to show up, they needed to do it soon. There was only so much sun left in the day, their parents were going to freak if they spent too much more time outside. Even worse, they were out of sight and hearing distance from Mrs. Weasley. The last thing Genesis wanted to deal with was an irate Mrs. Weasley. If she discovered how far out they had gone, she would probably lock them up for a year.

"You think anyone's going to show up?" Angeal whispered.

"Shut up!" Genesis hissed, holding his hand up. "Did you hear that?"

There were voices – two of them. One sounded male and the other female.

" . . . they here, Aerith?"

"Yes, they're hiding," replied the female voice. "Genesis, Angeal! You can come out now!"

Angeal and Genesis shared a nonplussed look. The strangers knew their names. As creepy as that should have felt, Genesis felt no dread or foreboding from the two strangers.

There was probably no point of staying in the grass now. Genesis stepped out slowly, fixing his eyes on the figures in front of him, watching for a single threatening move. Angeal was right behind him, visibly tense, and wondered if he looked as tense. He probably did. The taller silhouette was a kid a little younger than Genesis and Angeal, with spiky raven-black hair and tanned olive skin. There was a scar on his jaw, his eyes bright and luminous blue, just like their own. His face was open and friendly.

The shorter was a girl, long chestnut brown hair pulled back in a braid with a large pink bow and white glassy sphere. She had green eyes that glowed, but differently than the boy's and Angeal and Genesis's. It was otherworldly, but peaceful and calming at the same time. She didn't have any scars on her face, but she greeted them with a smile that was welcoming, as if they were family, or old friends finally reuniting.

"Who are you?" asked Genesis cautiously.

Were they relatives he had never heard from before? Did they know about his and Angeal's parents? If so, it was rich of them to show up now. After being raised by the Weasley family for over a decade, they were his family. For a while, Genesis had wanted to know who his biological parents were, why they had abandoned him and Angeal at the Weasley's front door. However, as the years passed by, he had found himself caring less and less about relatives he had never met. Even if he did meet them, he highly doubted it would be a cheerful reunion.

That was when another theory occurred to him: perhaps they were aliens from outer space, come to abduct them and dissect them. Or maybe it was a prank, and they were going to get them in trouble for nothing. . . . Or maybe his imagination was running away with him, totally out of control, and he couldn't comprehend what was happening.

The girl smiled, but instead of answering Genesis's question, she turned to her companion. The action served to miff Genesis to a small degree.

"Are you . . . ready?" she sounded reluctant. Her smile was flickering. "They're here now."

The boy stared at Angeal and Genesis, something uncomfortable stirring in his eyes.

"They're just kids. . . ."

"The goddess thinks they're ready," the girl replied.

Genesis scowled, though his eyes were starting to feel very heavy.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked waspishly. "Are you going to answer my question or not?"

To his right, Angeal swayed, blinking quickly.

" . . . Tired," he mumbled. He suddenly looked alarmed. "Why am I so tired?"

Just as Genesis was going to demand Angeal to explain in more detail, he swayed on his feet. His eyes blurred, the earth rushing around his head and the strangers' voices seem to distort, as if he was underwater. He collapsed within seconds, while Angeal managed to stay on his feet. Genesis was far too out of it to be properly annoyed at his own lack of endurance, focusing on the light throbbing in his head and the way the dusky sky was spinning around in circles. He remembered his mother saying something about Angeal's endurance as opposed to his stamina. Something about a thick skill – or a heightened immune system? . . . More hair?

There was a second thump as Angeal succumbed to his drowsiness as well. Genesis blinked slowly, struggling valiantly to keep his eyes open. The boy and girl were still speaking to each other, seeming to ignore their plight.

" . . . just kids."

" . . . you sure? This could . . . have childhood."

"Minvera thinks . . . Lifestream . . ."

"Screw that . . . so young."

"Okay, Zack. I agree. . . . They're so young," the girl was saying.

"After everything they went through, they deserve a normal childhood," the boy, Zack, replied.

Genesis faded into sleep, his eyes sliding closed. It was as if the world simply winked out for a second and when he opened his eyes, he was being pulled up into the arms of Mrs. Weasley. She was furious, sobbing, and relieved all at the same time, which was a feat. The entire family was there – Mr. Weasley, Percy, Charlie, Bill, Fred, George, Ron, and even Ginny. He let her squeeze him in a tight hug, wiping sleep from his eyes and looking through the grasses for the boy and the girl. They had disappeared and taken the answers to his questions with them.

"You are grounded for a month, young man!"

Great.

A/N: Heyo! This probably wasn't a very clear chapter... well it's more of a prologue. Probably should have labeled it 'prologue.'

This is my first time publishing any works like this... I've written a crap load of stuff, but I haven't ever gotten around to publishing them. I'm kind of scatterbrained with my stories, but I'll try not to publish a million things and never update. ... Hopefully. XD

Anyhow, there will be some out of character behavior, giving their varying environments and the way the characters were raised. I have a very hard time with characterization, mostly because I just kind of want the characters to do what I want them to do, but they don't always listen. (I'm looking at you, Genesis.)

I hope you enjoyed this! I love constructive criticism, so if there's any glaring errors, please point them out! I tried to proofread, but I probably missed things. I'll try to update somewhat frequently, but... ahaha *looks up at pen name*. Yeah. I'll at least up date every week or so. Hopefully.

Until next time!