A fanfic by ArktheMushroom

A/N: I used to Role-play Harry Potter a lot. A character I came up with was Luna Lovegood's adopted brother. And a friend of mine used to play a character, I forgot her name, who was also an orphan, of sorts, even though both of their parents were still alive, they wanted nothing to do with them. I'll just give her character a different name and call it good. Yes. That is what I shall do.

This is a fanfic about the son of the Dark Lord and the daughter of the Half-Blood Prince.

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The Dark Lord had risen, just two years ago, but nobody had known it until just last year. An accident, of course, as he had hoped to remain hidden. Secrecy was his trademark, but the cat was out of the bag now. Oh, well. People were dying and the Wizarding World was in chaos. But at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, what did outside things matter, unless they affected a student or their family? Nothing ever affected Lucas' family, probably because his father didn't have anything or do anything the Death Eaters cared about. He never had a reason to worry.

A loner, he could be found this time of the day, right after classes, sitting outside on the grounds, near the lake, under a large tree. He had changed out of his school clothes, and now wore a tank top and plain black jeans under a set of plain, dark green robes with silver trim. His thick, shiny brown hair fell over the left half of his face, the right half visible, as he'd tucked a thick curtain of hair behind his right ear. He wore burgundy-framed half-glasses, shielding lightly lidded, hazel eyes. His eyebrow had been pierced, as well as his ear (several times), and a pair of golden "snake bite" piercings adorned his lower lip. He was thin, with slightly hollowed cheeks and lips the same color as his pale skin, and when he stood, he would be at or over six foot six, probably approaching seven feet.

He had a notebook in hand, and an inkwell on the ground next to him, his hand skating over the parchment. He was careful to use only a light amount of ink. He'd been working on it for over five minutes, but already his drawing was near completion. A picture of a hippogriff, savagely battling a griffin. He had paid a lot of attention to detail, including the eyes, the feathers of the hippogriff in mid-transformation to fur, the blood flying. He had finished shading, now there were only minor details to go.

"Hi, Lucas!"

He glanced up, and waved to a pair of female students he didn't really know. In the last few years, he was starting to become well-known. He was an excellent student, mostly due to his habit of hiding away to study. He was the top male student in the seventh year, next to a female student in a different House. He was known mostly for his looks, but he was becoming known for his accomplishments, as well.

In his fourth year, he received a Special Services Award to the School for helping Argus Filch repair the castle over the summers. Miscellaneous repairs and such, as well as helping Hagrid with the grounds during the holidays, for no pay. In the same year, an essay he wrote in potions got published in The Daily Prophet, and was seen by The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, and he was on speaking terms with its more prominent members. In his fifth year, he was named Prefect, but resigned the post at the end of the year, to free time for his sixth. This year, he had been named Head Boy, despite not completing his time as a Prefect, due to the excellent job he had done. In his sixth year, he had received the Barnabus Finkley Award for Exceptional Spellcasting, due to an intense, requested Defense Against the Dark Arts test against some of the more dangerous Dark creatures, and in Transfiguration, as he was probably the only wizard in history to somehow manage to turn an ordinary chicken into a cross between a black Labrador, a bald eagle, and a ring-tailed lemur. On purpose.

In fact, that bit of Transfiguration work had earned him a place in the Chocolate Frog Cards, and a spot in the book, The Unusual and Wonderful Works of Witches and Wizards. He was even set up for an apprenticeship in the Auror Office, having bested some truly powerful wizards in duels, and was even looking into the Department of Mystery, to explore one of the more unusual studies in said department, dealing with the afterlife.

The newest edition of the Prophet lay beside him. In it, he was being called a 'budding Dumbledore', and they were saying he was 'a young inspiration in magical study, possibly the greatest student mind since Dumbledore's school days'. Ha! Comparing him to Dumbledore! He was nowhere near Dumbledore's level. Well…perhaps Dumbledore's level at school, but certainly not know. He was an unusually gifted wizard, he knew that much. But there were things Dumbledore had done that he was sure he would never accomplish. Dumbledore was a true genius. Lucas was simply lucky. Still, he did enjoy the recognition, as long as he did not let it go to his head. But he still submitted his artwork to the Prophet, now and again. They were still printing the one he did last year, of a bard bravely battling a mountain troll, and bravely getting his head knocked into his body. A few magical artists had contacted him, even.

His father and sister were very proud of him. Not much had come from his family. Well, not much of worth, though it pained him to admit it, or to criticize his father. But they had even said he was a beacon in their family, who would rise to greatness and bring honor and pride to the Lovegood name. Well…maybe.

He smiled, as he applied the finishing touches to his artwork, then removed his wand from his pocket. A foot long, made of a very dark wood, with a unicorn tail hair core. He waited until the ink dried, and then separated the paper from the notebook, tapping it with his wand.

"Now, how does that spell go? Ah, yes. Geminio."

An exact duplicate fell away from the original, and he picked it up off the ground, rolling it up and sealing it. The copy, he would send to the Prophet this afternoon. It was about time he submitted something new. He even got fan letters from people who enjoyed seeing his artwork. He also, sparingly, sent in poetry and short stories, and got fan letters for this, too. Apparently, some people thought him quite the author. He thought his work was O.K., really, but nothing to freak out about. Apparently, he was wrong.

He tucked his wand behind his ear, something his sister picked up from him. He did it because it was quicker to pull it from behind his ear then to reach into a pocket or sleeve to withdraw it. His sister did it simply because he did it. People often thought them weird for it.

He gave a sharp, high whistle, and heard an answering screech. The flapping of wings were coming closer. He reached into his bag, taking out a heavily repaired, thick leather glove. He pulled it on and held his arm out, just in time to let a large, magnificent falcon perch on his arm, and stare at him expectantly.

"Hello, Alister. How are you today?" The falcon gave a screech, and accepted a small, dead mouse from Lucas, holding a leg out. He attached the drawing to his leg, and threw his arm up, the falcon taking wing, knowing exactly where to go. Lucas stripped the glove off and threw it in his bag, then cleaned his quill, closed his ink bottle, and put quill, ink, paper and notebook in his bag, closing it and standing. Tomorrow was a Hogsmeade day. He could hardly wait. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he headed for the Quidditch field. His team had practice today. Even though he was an extra, he still showed up to play, and they would usually switch out one player to let him try his hand.

Changing into his green and silver Quidditch robes, he stepped onto the pitch, the Slytherin team in discussion.

"Ah, there you are, Lovegood," said the team Captain, a guy he knew by sight, but not name. "Hope you're ready. What position are you trying this time?"

"It doesn't matter," drawled Malfoy. "Lovegood's so skilled, he makes us all look like beginners."

"I'll go for Chaser today," said Lucas, putting his hair back in a ponytail.

"Right then, half take one side of the pitch, half take the other. Lovegood, your with me and Urquhart. Markus, your Seeker this time." Lucas, Markus, the Captain and Urquhart removed their robes, as did their Keeper. Everyone got into formation.

"Releasing the Bludgers and the Snitch!" All three balls zoomed into the air. "And up with the Quaffle!" He made the giant red ball zoom into the air, and the practice began. Lucas rode with a Nimbus 2001, same as the rest of the team, but it was the flier, not the broom, that made a good player. He zoomed up and scooped the Quaffle under his arm, laying flat on his broom and zooming down the pitch. He ducked as one player came over him, veered to side as another passed him, and did a wide barrel roll, the surprised player going through the middle of his circle.

He heard a 'thunk!' and knew a Bludger had been hit. He looked back and saw it coming his way, and saw a Chaser coming opposite. So he pressed his broom into a vertical dive, laying flat backwards to look up and see the Bludger smash into the Chaser's face. Then he pulled out of his dive, and began to ascend, heading for the rings. The Keeper was waiting. He got within ten feet, and put the Quaffle up, punching it as hard as he could. It slammed into the Keeper's stomach, sending him and ball backwards through a ring, and down to the sand.

The others stared at him. "Point, skins?"

The game continued on for awhile, but Lucas was untouchable. He even managed to grab hold of the opposing Beater's bat, smack him in the head with it, slam a Bludger into another Chaser's stomach, speed down the pitch, and fake out the Keeper, putting it through the middle hoop. Then he stretched out, yawning, and felt his long, graceful fingers close over the Snitch. Malfoy was livid as they all came back down to the pitch.

"Lucas, you need to seriously consider playing first-string," the Captain was saying.

"Thought about it before, don't have the time, thanks for offering, though." With that, he headed into the locker rooms, taking a shower stall. He had washed his hair, and was in the process of washing his body, when he heard a small giggle.

"Hmm? Is someone there?"

Silence; he shrugged and continued. Then it happened again.

"Hello? Who is out there?" He peeked his head out, but again, nothing. He sighed, and turned, only to find soap and washcloth gone. "What the hell?"

He looked over the top of the stall, his head clearing it quite a bit. He saw the washcloth on a bench, the soap atop it. Ghosts? No…ghosts can't touch solid objects. Probably Peeves.

"Peeves, I swear I'll get the Baron if you keep messing with me."

"Peevsie knows better than to mess with you, half-giant."

"Gah!"

Startled, Lucas gave a jump, and turned towards Peeves, who was floating upside-down, next to him.

"I'm not a half-giant, Peeves. Just tall."

"'Twas not I that giggled, my poor, stretched-out friend."

"Then who?"

"You'll have to find out for yourself." And with that, Peeves was off through a wall.

Cautiously, Lucas got out of the shower, creeping down to the bench. Why didn't he have the foresight to bring a towel? And he was wandless.

"I would go back, if I were you."

"Gah!"

He turned, seeing the Gray Lady floating past.

"Yeah? Why?"

She raised a brow. "Trust me, O' Naked One."

Lucas looked down, turned red, then covered himself. "Oh, get out of here!"

"Certainly, if you wish it," she said, with a satisfied smirk.

With a small growl of annoyance, he continued down. Then he reached the bench, looking into the small aisle of lockers. Nobody there. He picked up the soap and washcloth.

"How very…odd."

"Hi there!"

"Gah!"

He turned, and found himself face-to-face with a third year Ravenclaw girl. He immediately covered himself with the washcloth…but not fully.

"What are you doing in here?!"

"I was told you were down here."

"Why are you here?"

"To give you this."

She was holding a rather large package, but didn't seem too bothered by the weight. She stared up at him, innocently.

'Little demoness,' he thought.

"Then…set it down."

"You have to take it," she told him.

"No…I'll go back to my shower now."

He turned, and jumped again.

"Gah!"

There was a twin! Wait…he recognized these two. They were fighting on the train, at the beginning of the year, and he was the one who got them to stop fighting.

"What's going on here?"

A third voice cut in. They all turned to the entrance; a lithe form in silhouette stood against the bright sunlight. The twin girls looked scared, now. Lukas' hair was plastered to his face; impatiently, he pushed it away from his eyes as the girl came closer.

She looked to be around his age; silky black hair hung over her face like curtains, behind which black eyes were narrowed dangerously. Her small nose seemed to have a slight hook, and her skin was pale, with full lips. She wore casual black robes, and she had on lightly applied, all-black make-up. She put her hands on her hips. He'd thought she was kind of cute, when he first saw her, in his fifth year, she in her third.

Lukas recognized her. Her name was Sara…something, a Prefect in his House.

"You two!" Her voice snapped like a whip. "Get out of the changing room, and leave him alone!"

The first dropped the package, which sounded empty when it hit the floor, and both turned and ran out of the changing room. Lukas crossed over to his locker and pulled it open, putting a towel around his waist.

"Thanks. It's Sara, right? I'm Lucas Lovegood."

"I know. I've seen you a few times. I saw those girls coming here, and figured they were up to something. Well, see you later, Lucas." And with that, she walked out.

Smiling slightly, Lucas went back to finish his shower.

Five minutes later, he walked out of the changing room, and found himself confronted by Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle.

'I must be popular today.'

"I'm sick of being shown up by you, Lovegood," said Malfoy, his face contorted with rage. He shoved his hand in his pocket, but Lucas reached his wand first.

"Rictumsempra!"

"Protego!"

Lucas' Shield Charm expanded and flashed as Malfoy's Tickling Hex hit it. He flicked his wand, and forced the spell to rebound and hit Goyle, who doubled over with uncontrollable laughing.

"Kiddie spells, Malfoy? What's wrong, too afraid to use a big-boy spell?" Lukas smirked, a taunting, mocking smile, and Malfoy's face flushed.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

The Body-Bind Curse hit his Shield, and with another flick, he sent it at Crabbe, whose limbs froze, and he toppled over, helpless. Malfoy was livid.

"All done, Malfoy? Because I really don't feel like playing with you, today."

Malfoy made a strange, slashing motion, a line of purple fire streaming from his wand, and Lucas directed his Shield at it. He blinked in astonishment a second later, as he was struck sideways with the feeling that somebody tried to slash his cheek open with a blunt knife.

'What? That was Dark magic. Who taught him that?'

Lucas was no longer playing. He flicked his wand again at Malfoy, thinking, 'Levicorpus!' Malfoy managed to dodge the curse, and aimed at Lucas. "Stupefy!"

The spell hit the tip of Lucas' wand, and he pointed his wand behind him, guiding the spell harmlessly over his shoulder. Angered beyond control, Malfoy pointed his wand again at Lucas.

"Cruc-"

Eyes wide, Lucas flicked his wand again, and this time, the force that erupted nearly threw him back. As it was, in the middle of his curse, Lucas' spell caught Malfoy in the stomach, driving the air from his lungs, and forcing him back ten feet as the air rippled around the point of impact.

Malfoy hit the ground hard, his eyes streaming, gasping for breath. Lucas strode over to him, and kicked his wand away. "Disgusting little tick." Lucas aimed his wand at Malfoy, silent, and all Malfoy saw was a red flash, and everything went dark.

After Stunning both Crabbe and Goyle, Lucas slid his wand back behind his ear, and headed back to the pitch, taking a small wireless from his pocket, and turning it on. He was surprised to meet Sara at the gate.

"Lucas! I saw Malfoy and his idiot friends coming, and I came to…to warn…oh," she finished, seeing the unconscious bodies. "What is that playing from your wireless?"

"American Muggle music," he said weakly, as 'Broken,' the Seether song featuring Amy Lee played quietly. He felt so strange...was it because of Malfoy? "I bewitched…the wireless…to pick it up."

"Lucas, are you ok?" Sara opened the gate, hurrying to him. "You look like hell."

"Malfoy," he said, before toppling to the ground, overcome by the aftereffects of Malfoy's Dark curse.

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A/N: I can't actually remember how our RP's went, so I'll take the story in the direction I want it to go. As it is, I think I'll end it here. I wanted to bring across the point that Lucas is an uncommonly skilled wizard, and can be ruthless, in his own way. Yet, he's also a really nice, kind guy, if he isn't being attacked, talented in other ways, not just at magic, and he's a little bit on the jumpy side. The next chapter won't end so randomly, I swear. I hope whoever reads this enjoys it! :) -ArktheMushroom