Harry states he will not return to Hogwarts in the Sixth Book. This fan fiction follows that vein of possibility; and asks the question; 'What if Harry Potter really is a Horcrux and Neville actually was the prophecy child instead of Harry?'

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par·a·digm par-uh-dahym,pār'ə-dīm', -dĭm'

-noun

1. Grammar.

a. a set of forms all of which contain a particular element, esp. the set of all inflected forms based on a single stem or theme.

b. a display in fixed arrangement of such a set, as boy, boy's, boys, boys'.

2. an example serving as a model; pattern.

3. A set or list of all the inflectional forms of a word or of one of its grammatical categories: the paradigm of an irregular verb.

4. A set of assumptions, concepts, values, and practices that constitutes a way of viewing reality for the community that shares them, especially in an intellectual discipline.

(Middle English, example, from Late Latin paradīgma, from Greek paradeigma, from paradeiknunai, to compare : para-, alongside; see para-1 + deiknunai, to show; see deik- in Indo-European roots. --Excerpted from American Heritage Dictionary)

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Eros is passionate love, with sensual desire and longing. The Modern Greek word "erotas" means "(romantic) love". However, Eros does not have to be sexual in nature. Eros can be interpreted as a love for someone who you love more than the philia love of friendship. It can also apply to dating relationships as well as marriage. Plato refined his own definition. Although eros is initially felt for a person, with contemplation it becomes an appreciation of the beauty within that person, or even becomes appreciation of beauty itself. It should be noted Plato does not talk of physical attraction as a necessary part of love, hence the use of the word platonic to mean, "without physical attraction". Plato also said Eros helps the soul recall knowledge of beauty, and contributes to an understanding of spiritual truth. Lovers and philosophers are all inspired to seek truth by eros. The most famous ancient work on the subject of eros is Plato's Symposium, which is a discussion among the students of Socrates on the nature of eros. --Excerpted from Wikipedia

Philia (phil'eda) means friendship in modern Greek, a dispassionate virtuous love, was a concept developed by Aristotle. It includes loyalty to friends, family, and community, and requires virtue, equality and familiarity. In ancient texts, philia denoted a general type of love, used for love between family, between friends, a desire or enjoyment of an activity, as well as between lovers. This is the only other word for "love" used in the ancient text of the New Testament besides agape, but even then it is used substantially less frequently --Excerpted from Wikipedia

Prologue

A light wind blew in through the open window. It scattered the papers that littered all the available surfaces of the room and sent them flying to the floor; most of the parchment sheets were only half-written; spouting guess work and notes in partially illegible writing that had been scratched out, written over, and scratched out again. An ongoing theme on each of them was that every once in a while the word cup would appear, along with differing location names.

A small bed lay situated in the corner of the modest room; on it lay a young redheaded boy who was sleeping and occasionally muttering words or phrases such as, "No, mum, don't make me eat the spiders when they're dipped in butter...". Every once in awhile, a frizzy-haired witch sitting at a small desk in the opposite corner threw a crumpled piece of parchment at his head when his muttered phrases grew too loud.

A clock laying on a small bedside table read '2:57 A.M.' and splayed over top of it, partially obscuring the last digit lay a discarded Chudley Cannons shirt; on top of which a wand was precariously placed. As the noisy boy tossed in his bed from time to time, a small crackle could be heard, presumably from one of the many chocolate frog wrappers littering the bed.

A soft sigh sounded from the area of the open window, where a petite boy with black hair and black-rimmed glasses sat perched with his head propped up on his hand. The moon shone brightly through the window and cast an eerie glow about the room which contrasted with the soft glow from a lumos spell that the girl had cast. The combined effect created shadows that slanted in two different directions.

The mournful sound of a cat mewling suddenly sounded from underneath the bed, although the noise was more reminiscent of a dying cow than a feline. The boy with the untidy hair glared at the figure within the shadowed depths underneath the bed, hissing softly in annoyance, to which the frizzy haired girl looked up and gave a disapproving look. His bright green eyes widened at having been caught and a sheepish look crossed his features. The girl just rolled her eyes and went back to her scribbling.

An owl hooted from somewhere outside in the distance and the sound of crickets floated in; their call permeated the room with a hushed, mesmerising melody. The boy on the bed snorted suddenly in his sleep and rolled over, kicking the covers off of himself in the process. It was a warm and sticky summer night where even the breeze was warm - albeit pleasantly so- and the freckled wizard obviously did not lament the loss of his coverings.

It was not long afterwards that a snowy white owl - presumably, the very same that had hooted earlier - flew in through the window. It flew at the girl with bushy hair and alighted onto the papers, where it smeared the freshly written ink and sent yet another batch flying along with the ink bottle. The witch shrieked and shooed the bird away with her hands; it hooted angrily and nipped her finger harshly before flying over to the green-eyed boy on whose shoulder it landed.

The girl spun in her seat and huffed. She glared at the owl and the black-haired boy did an imitation of the girls earlier look of disapproval, which made her hands up and mouth "Well!". She got up and turned towards the door of the room and made her way out of it.

The boy on the sill glanced at the still-sleeping redhead and shook his head. He petted the owl atop his shoulder and stuck a finger under her claws, stood up, and placed her owl on the windowsill where he had sat. He made his way to the door the young lady had exited; floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he left the room as well. He shut the door behind himself and turned left down the hallway, which branched in two directions.

The room he had left his friend in was only three paces from the stairs, which creaked even more under his weight than the floorboards had; out of mild curiosity he counted the steps and found that there were eleven. He glanced at the front door as a noise sounded near it, but concluded it was just another of those 'old house' noises, in which case he made a sharp left around the corner to where the kitchen was.

He walked inside and heard bottles clinking as well as an occasional swoosh; as he rounded yet another corner where the stove and sink he noticed that light from the open fridge door spilt onto floor. It cast a yellow glow over the floor tiles in the darkened room as a rubbish bin propped the door open. A girl was bent over inside and was rummaging through; occasionally she grabbed something and tossing them into the aforementioned bin.

She looked up as the bespectacled boy bumped into a chair in the dark and said, "Honestly, Harry! Can't you and Ron ever clean out the fridge or buy new food by yourselves once in awhile?"

He grinned and shot back, "Well, 'Mione, maybe if instead of studying for days on end you actually took time once in awhile to eat with us, we might feel more inclined to keep it tidier."

The witch in question huffed.

"That is just an excuse and you know it."

Harry smiled cheekily. He showed his teeth slightly-too-much and made no comment on her observation.

He moved forward and brushed up against her side and stared into the fridge as well; there was little in it. The most substantial quantity of food appeared to be a cereal box and doubtless Ron had put it in there by accident; Hermione reached in again to pluck out a half-eaten pot of jelly and two mostly gone bowls of chocolate pudding.

The black-haired youth, who was more of a young man than a boy, reached forward to grab the carton of milk in the fridge. He gave it an experimental shake and a sniff and found that it smelled alright. There was also about half left, although his friend glanced at him out of the corner of her eye to give the milk a dubious look that Harry failed to notice as he grabbed the cereal as well. He walked over to the cabinet to fetch a bowl and spoon before plonking himself down at the table.

"You're not going to eat that, are you?"

"Why not?" He replied, "It smells just fine."

"It's four days past date!" Hermione practically hissed, but the other teenager chose to ignore her in favour of making himself a late snack.

Her mouth thinned at his obvious brush off, but she ploughed on.

"And besides! It'll spoil your sleep. You do intend to sleep, don't you? You can't exactly hunt for Horcruxes if you're never getting any sleep!"

"For one thing, cereal is light on the stomach and milk aids in sleep; I would think you'd know that, and you don't sleep either, so you're one to talk!" He glowered. "And besides, we're not exactly getting anywhere with the Horcruxes. We've been looking for months, 'Mione, the moment Bill and Fleur's wedding was over you were looking into it. In fact, if I recall correctly, you seemed to have been glancing down from time to time throughout the entire ceremony and I'm fairly sure I saw two books stashed under your chair along with a self-inking quill and parchment."

His imperious tone made her bristle.

"Well, that's no reason to just give up! Aren't you the one who said, 'Oh Hermione, I'm going off to kill Voldemort and find the Horcruxes, please don't forget me!' all hero-like last year, and what now you just want to sit and watch muggle television and eat...eat... old cereal all day?!"

Her voice rose to a screech and Harry stared at her. His spoon hung from his open mouth before it fell out and clattered on the table to splatter the small amount of milk and cereal that had been on it.

"I didn't say I was giving up!" Was his fierce answer. "I just meant that it's not like we're getting anywhere. It's just…well, it is a bit disheartening that it's taking so long. There's no need to obsess over sleep like I'm facing him tomorrow! "

"You could very well be!" She shrieked without stop. "He is more active than ever and it's not like this is a very safe place to be staying at - honestly, Harry, I'm surprised he hasn't looked here sooner!"

The bespectacled wizard glared and spat back, "It's obviousness is the entire point, isn't that what you said? He wouldn't expect us to be hiding in plain sight and it was your idea that we stay here to begin with, I only wanted to visit my mum and dad's graves, excuse me if you that's not appropriate to you!"

He slammed his hands down on the table and stood up; turning around abruptly he started striding off. He was halfway to the door when Ron appeared at the base of the steps with bleary eyes and a great big yawn.

"Eh mate, what in the ruddy 'ell is going on in here?" he yawned out, rubbing his face.

"Nothing," Harry hissed. He sprinted up the stairs and ran into the second room from the landing where he slammed his door shut behind him.

The freckled boy stared after him with a bewildered look before glancing over at the fridge where Hermione stood bracing herself against the appliance; unshed tears glinted in her eyes on her crestfallen face.

"...Did I miss something?" He asked quietly.

The witch glowered at him and hissed acidly, "No Ron, you didn't miss anything more than you usually do!"

She too ran to the stairs and up the landing to slam the third door from the stairs; Ron stared after with wide eyes for a minute before he shrugged and headed over to the fridge. He pulled out a half eaten tin of smelly kippers that the girl had missed.

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Harry awoke the sound of screaming and a loud thud; the light shining in from the window was minimal and it appeared to be nearing nightfall already. He grabbed his wand from beneath his pillow and sprung to his feet. He opened his door carefully and peering around the corner with immense caution; his heart thudded in his chest.

Had Voldemort finally found them?

He padded silently down the hall, glancing left and right as he made his way; quietly creeping downstairs he checked the front door to see if anything was amiss. It was closed and locked but to him that meant little so he continued to sneak about; rounding the corner into the kitchen he was as silent as possible until he raised his eyebrows at the sight that greeted him.

Hermione stood over a prostrate Ron, who had what looked like eggs and flour spattered all over himself, and a mixing bowl lay on the floor next to his head. The girl was red in the face, and as she had been last night, screaming.

"WHY is there a note from Lavender on the table? We're not supposed to be getting any owls, you'll blow our cover!"

The redhead paled and replied hastily, "I haven't been talking with her, how should I know?"

The witch glowered and stomped off to the fridge to pull out what looked like new food that she had probably gone out and bought. She grabbed more eggs, vinegar, and some milk before slamming them down on the table; flour and other essentials were already out on it so she snatched them up as well as the fallen bowl. A quick Scourgify on it and Ron and she placed the bowl next to the eggs to resume making a batch of pancakes.

Harry walked up to where she was now stirring ingredients furiously. The mixture splashed up over the sides and onto the girl and the counter. He hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder, which tensed before she let out an angry breath. The bespectacled teenager decided, for once, to be the voice of reason; enough was enough.

"It seems like the stress of this is getting to all of us," he said, "But that's no reason to constantly be at each other's throats and push ourselves beyond our limits. 'Mione, maybe you should take a break from research for awhile--"

She gave him a horrified look.

"--I'm not saying not to! Just take it easier, go a little slower; let me and Ron help more. You've been shunting the books away in your room, and shutting us out. Being here together won't do us any good if we aren't even getting along, it'll just make it easier for Voldemort to get to us. If we can't stop arguing, then maybe it's time I go and do this on my own."

The witch dropped the mixing spoon into the bowl where it disappeared into the batter. She spun around, and hugged her friend, burying her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders as she sobbed.

"Oh, Harry; I'm sorry! I just... I need to figure this out... I don't want you to die! I don't want any of us to die, I just want this to be---"

"I know" he said, "So do I."

He felt Ron stand up, where he stood awkwardly behind them, shifting from foot to foot; and Harry could nearly feel the holes being glared into his back, so he pulled away from Hermione and gave the red-head a bemused look before he patted Hermione on the shoulder and smiled gently. He then walked over to the cupboard, pulling out a pack of muggle goldfish; Ron gave the packet's name a faintly frightened look as Harry walked by, leaving the two in the kitchen alone as he crossed into the adjacent living room and flicked on the television.

Ron glanced at Hermione unsurely, once again shifting feet before he said,

"Ah…yeah, what Harry said."

And Hermione just shook her head, a tired grin showing before she went back to mixing her pancakes. Ron smiled nervously and nodded to her stiffly, before he darted off to the living room; he sat down next to Harry and plucked the remote out of the raven-haired youth's hand. He began pressing the buttons randomly, and the sound went up high as the channels switched fast; the mute randomly flicking off and on.

Harry snatched the remote back as he said, "Ron! I've showed you this enough times by now to remember it," and gestured to the remote as he hit the proper buttons and flicked it to a channel, "this is how a remote works!"

Ron just gave him a confused look as he said, "But where's the fun in that?"

Harry gave him an exasperated look, and silence reigned between the boys for a few minutes as they watched the programme.

And then, "Oi, Harry, D'you think I could Wingardium Leviosa the milk from here?"

Harry glanced over at Ron.

"No."

TBC...

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After Notes -

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I make no money off this work of fan fiction.

Beta: MaddevilleChilde, DarkAngel35

This is a re-post, I deleted this in a fit of pique after an argument with a christian I know over how writing this sending me to hell, then realized I was only letting them win.

This a pet project of mine. I'm trying to create a situation based on plausibly possible alternate avenues in canon that would lead to an at least semi-believeable Harry/Voldemort pairing. Don't expect the slash for a really long time. First I need to get Harry to drift away from Ron and Hermione, as there is just no way they would support such a pairing and would inevitably keep him from going somewhat dark (Or so I personally believe).

For this chapter, I'm basing Hermione's moodiness on how she was in the Third book when she was using the Time-Turner. I think, in a situation where she is over-extended, she would be likely to respond in much the same manner.

Well, let me know what you think and feel free to poke at this - my goal is to make this as plausible is possible. Of course, obviously with the HPLV pairing it could never be fully plausible, but still.

And if you flame rather than constructively criticize depending on my mood I will either delete it, laugh hilariously at the fact that your mother dropped you on your head too much as a child and your daddy never loved you, or even - depending on how brainless you are- post your review up somewhere, rip it apart, and make fun of you, pointing out to anyone who comes across it what an idiot you are. I will assume the goal is not to help correct a problem, but simply to make yourself feel better about your own unhappy life. I will not stop writing just because you are a jerk.

Any other reviews will be greatly appreciated, and possibly glomped -- especially if you point out something I missed and help me improve my writing!