Hi again! I got really bored, so I decided to post the entire "A boy named Andrew" series again, revised cuz what I wrote before was pretty much crap. lol. Anyways, I own some things in this story, but I don't wanna list them, so everything belongs to J. K. Rowling now.

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Part One

Somewhere in the depths of London, there was one particularly small apartment. It was the fifth from the right of a quaint apartment building, second floor. No lights were on in the compact living room, but the blinds on the windows were pulled up, and the various monotonous greys of a dreary, rainy day were the only things intruding upon total darkness. Inside the room, two young faces, not older than about 25 years old, wore expressions that matched the weather.


One face showed a dark brown-headed female with staggeringly white skin. Her complexion could not be completely attributed to genes or facial powder; almost everyone in her world was pale because of the terrible displays that had errupted recently. For she was a witch, and every witch or wizard there was was facing dark days. An unbridled, deadly wizard had steadily risen in power until he was more mighty than the Minister of Magic himself. His feared name was Lord Voldemort. And she was his daughter. Diane Riddle. The most hunted woman alive.


Not more than a few inches away from Diane, a second doleful face dampened the atmosphere. This was a pretty average face in comparison to hers. With brown hair and lightly tanned skin, Andrew was, in a word, plain. His eyes were a boring hazel, and all vitality seemed to be gone from him. There were dark circles underneath his eyes because he had always been an incorrigible worker, an unbridled achiever. He was Diane's boyfriend, but he couldn't stand it when people called him that. Boyfriend was such a loose term, more for frivolous 12-year-olds exploring puppy love than what he felt. Around her, his hazel eyes seemed to turn deep, dark brown, and his hair had a spark of blonde in it. She was everything to him. And because of her d--- father, she was forced into hiding.


Andrew turned glanced at Diane for the last time, even though he didn't know it. He drank her in, because every time he saw her might be the last time. "So, can I visit sometime tomorrow?" he half-asked, half-pleaded. Diane's sigh was titanic. "I don't know. I don't know who could follow you...don't know who to trust...anymore..." her voice trailed off. "I'll pick up some things and make you a fantastic brunch, 'kay?" "Sure, just...bye." Andrew got to his feet and walked out of the room. He inhaled deeply and began to apparate back to his grand mansion. A certain dark blue box jingled in his pocket, and the precious diamond within it instigated a wave of memories.


Both Diane and Andrew had been in the Ravenclaw house at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and they had been fast, eternal friends from the moment her blue, blue eyes connected with his hazel ones. Well, every year except for their seventh. That was when they had surpassed the boundaries of friendship; all of the intellectuals in their school had been well aware of their relationship. Both had earned the title of prefect, and both had been considered for Head Girl or Head Boy, whatever the case may be. However, Andrew had achieved Head Boyhood; a pretty and popular Gryffinor girl named Hannah had been chosen for Head Girl. Joy retreated from Diane and Andrew's relationship because the Head Boy and Head Girl did everything together. Some would later say that it was a motive.


Andrew's luxurious home was to be expected of a Ministry of Magic researcher like he was; it was out in the basically uninhabited country of Scotland near the Ministry itself. It was 2 stories high and was simply gigantic. It came equiped with a pool, tennis courts, soccer fields, and gardens. He wanted Diane there to share it with him. But first, he had to pop the question and actually remove the signifigant azure box in his pocket. He apparated up to his immense bedroom and climbed under his covers with his work clothes still on. Sadness always tired him out. Perhaps the sun would reign over the clouds tomorrow.

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