I do not claim to own Teen Titans or Harry Potter, but simply to love them.

A thousand thank yous to those who read and reviewed, I've decided to continue on. I must apologise for the speed of this chapter, but I wanted to get into the magical world as quickly as possible. I hope it all makes sense, I'm new to third person. For reference, the scene we open upon now is the eve of the return to Hogwarts (the night they have the small party for Ron and Hermione being made prefects in The Order of the Phoenix)

Grimmauld Place, Seven PM

Raven Roth appeared at the curb of a small London street with a shimmer of air and energy. She was partially obscured by the shadows of oaks growing tall in the park behind her, enough so that any humans close by would think her apparation was a trick of the mind and that she must have been there all along.

She stood quiet and motionless, observing the block of old-fashioned apartments set out in a row before her. A bag was slung over her shoulder and she wore a non-descript civilian outfit - dark Jeans, a blue shirt and a dark jumper with her standard hood. She'd managed to enchant her appearance, so that her hair was more black than violet and her skin a shade more cream than ashen, but it did little to distract from the blood-red ruby adorning her forehead. Somewhere, in the depths of her ruck-sack, her Titans communicator was nestled in a pair of navy socks.

She thought that the flats seemed glued together, hunched in a crowd like Emperer Penguins sheltering from the cold. Though there was the odd descrepancy of the house numbers skipping from number 11 straight to number 13, the area looked very similar to every other lower-middleclass neighbourhood in London. If not for the strong trace of magic Raven could feel emmulating from the gap between where number 12 Grimmauld place should have stood, she would have bypassed it compleatly. She could feel the repulsive force of the barriers surrounding it but not so much that she couldn't get in. The precautions whoever owned the house had taken to ensure they had no visitors were extensive and strong, yet it was not Raven's brand of magic. It didn't affect her the way it would a wizard and that was how she was able to feel her body slip away from the earth, and, as she concented on the spaces between particles, reappear in the darkest hallway she'd ever set foot in.

It had a dank, musty smell that evoked images of dungeons and delapadated buildings in her mind's eye. It was quiet, but for the muffled sound of laughter and chattering heard through the wall. Somewhere in this house, she knew at least two of her potential fathers were waiting. She just wished she knew their names. She advanced down the corridor, her heart feeling like the rotors of a helecopter, gathering more speed for take off the closer she came to the source of the noise.

In the weeks after she'd read that fateful chapter of Demon Lore, Raven's mind had been consumed. She had been trained specificly to empty it of thoughts and emotion, and in her life she had been sucessful - she had to be in order to survive -until now. The idea of another father had gripped her and refused to let go. It had made it impossible for her to focus on training, on fighting the monotonous succesion of criminals the Titan's faced everyday. It had all come to a head when Robin had demanded to know what was eating her up after a sloppy fight which had resulted in an escaped villian. He had said it had been her fault but that was an exaggeration - though only just. She'd refused to offer any information. Raven trusted Robin more than anyone else, but that was still not enough to tell him about this particular problem. He'd sighed. After all they had been through together, and after all he had experianced in his own life, he understood sometimes you had to fix your problems on your own, that sometimes they were too painful to speak of. Robin had shocked her by giving her a month off, and telling her to come back with her head in order. He'd wished her luck, and meant it.

Raven loved her friends. Right now she held them like a talismen to her chest, protecting her from disapointment. She held them in the spot a normal person might hold their family- directly over their heart. Her nerves were seeping out of her like blood, and the thought of their tight-knit group was like pressure to quell the flow. No matter what, she always had the Titan's to return to. Even if all three parents turned out to hate her, she would forever be their sister.

Raven was sure now. Sure that she had a real, human father.

After Robin had let her go, she had teleported directly to Azarath. She had run on anger and hope rather than logic, bursting directly into her mothers lodgings and demanding an answer to only one question. The older woman was bitter and confused. Arella's life since her arrival in Azarath had been spent anticipating an end that had never come, yet the sudden appearance of her daughter still managed to shock.

"Who did you sleep with just before Trigon?" Raven had asked her, the words spewing out like oil, staining a heavy silence between them. Remembering it now as she felt her way down the dank passage, Raven wondered how she had let her ethics slip so dramaticly. Unconsciously, she had done something she had previously, in calmer times, deemed moraly wrong. With finger-like demon energy, she had reached out with her senses and tasted the first thoughts that popped into her mothers head before she had been able to throw up the same mind barriers the monks had fostered in Raven from infancy. It was no use, what had been seen could not be unseen, and the image was still frozen in Ravens mind days later.

The scene her mother had pictured at the prompt of Raven's words had been of four men - the ones she'd stumbled across on a Londen street almost seventeen years ago. To Raven's surprise she had recognised one of them. Arella's face had been white-washed and easy to read. She'd slept with one. That was the only explanation of that particular image appearing, though it didn't explain why all four men were there. Perhaps she couldn't remember which one it had been, perhaps she'd even slept with them all. Arella had always had a reputation for a reason.

To the Raven of a few days ago, it was another piece of evidence that had mounted up in a pile threatening to overwhelm her with hapiness. Her ability to relate to humans, the wish to be one of them. The fact her mother had obviously slept around before Trigon had got to her, probably irresponsibly. The fact Raven never did feel truly demonic. Nothing would change the fact that Trigon was one of her fathers, but she had been and still was more than willing to accept he had not been the original, but a corrupting genetic force added after she had been created. She cherished the idea that she had once been a normal human, even in-vitro, before a certain demon with a plan inturrupted.

With all that fresh hope sewn into her skin, Raven had teleported back to earth's dimension, detirmined to find a book she had once read, titled 'A Modern Wizarding History'

Now Raven advanced further down the hall, thinking over how she had come to this point and nearly tripping over a large square table-shaped object. She felt as if she was on fire, but when one had brushed another it felt like stroking ice. The voices grew louder, fighting for dominance in a cheerful sort of way. Raven thought dryly that she'd stumbled across a party. How like me to ruin it.

Did the young demoness stop to think how it would affect the people she was looking for if she made contact, with ludacris claims of co-fathership? Of course she did. She had doubts about approaching the remaining three of them and causing them stress because she didn't know which man would be the one. She thought they might already have families that would be disturbed by her. She wondered briefly why a tenous connection made only of DNA even mattered to her, or if it would matter to them. Mostly she stewed over the terryfying idea she was unlikely to find them at all.

Two days ago she had finally found the book she'd been searchng for, and within it a photograph of a man with glasses, his red-headed wife and their infant son. Along with the picture from Arella's mind, she had also stolen a group of words, of names that belonged to each of the four men. Of snatches of drunken conversation, of one in which they announced themselves to be Marauders. Their names were obviously fake, but they were all she had to go on. Prongs. James Potter.

Raven didn't know which of the men were her father, but upon re-reading 'A Modern Wizarding History' she had known that one of the candidates was extremely famous among the wizarding world she had learned of in Azarath, but had never entered. Also, that the man was dead.

Death didn't mean James Potter wasn't her father. Just that she'd never meet him. Even now, there was a one in four chance that he was the dad. Raven even felt oddly closer to him, as he was the only "Marauder" with a real name. Raven carried on down the hall, moving perhaps more slowly than was neccesary. Several times she felt like she might stop, like she might simply fall down from exhaustion and nervous energy.

Today she had entered the world of Wizards and witches for the first time. She had heard all about it, but seeing was something different all together. She had never before experianced an atmosphere so full of magic, of people unafraid of being different from the average human. To track down Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail, she had no leads. Diagon alley was so famous, even she knew about it, so it was her first stop. A random choice, that ended in a lucky encounter.

Out of sheer dumb luck, as she was walking spell-bound through the Alley, she'd come across a man who had seemed so familiar she'd stopped walking. The street below her feet had seemed to pulse with magic, but the feeling when she realised where she knew him from was better than that. He was older, dressed in robes so tattered they were almost rags, with a few deep lines in his forehead, but it was him. Moony. He had the same face, the same unsure smile. In his hands he held a briefcase, silver lettering up the side spelling out R J Lupin.

She had felt as if she had been slapped through a layer of heavy cloth. Moony. She had placed her hood up - it did not seem odd in this colourful new world - and walked past him as slowly as she could, her ears straining. Fate must have been rooting for her, because he stopped and whispered to a red-headed woman, before carrying on as if they didn't know one another.

"Tell Padfoot I'll be round for dinner."

Prongs, Moony and Padfoot. They were still all connected. That had made things easier for her. She would find Wormtail later, but at that moment she knew if she followed R. J. Lupin, she would find Padfoot as well. And that was what she did, tailing him throughout the day, until, half an hour earlier, from her position far enough away so he wouldn't spot her, Moony had dissapeared into thin air in front of where number 12 Grimmauld place should have been. In that moment she had wanted to run home to Robin and pretend nothing was wrong, but then her mind went over all the reasons why she had no choice other than to jump in.

The nail in the coffin was the fact she had the ability to enter Diagon Alley at all. To be able to enter, you had to have magical blood. You had to be the tiniest part Wizard. Raven highly doubted Arella had latent magical abilities. The magical blood in her could only have come from one place, or rather, one of four places. To give up because she was scared was unthinkable.

Raven stopped in the dark as her hands hit the unweilding wood panels of a door. The voices reached her from the other side. With a deep breath, she gripped the handle, the events of the few days swimming inside her head. The door opened a crack.

Inside, the inhabitants of the kitchen were on the verge of an arguement. Banners had been strung up in anticipation of a party (Well done Hermione and Ron, Gryffindor prefects!) , but all festive mood was fast dissapearing. On one side of the table, the woman Moony had whispered to in Diagon Alley stood squat and stern, glaring across an eirily familiar-looking man with long and messy black hair. The atmosphere was so tense, no one noticed for a second that a young woman of extremely odd appearance had entered their supposedly inpenatrable safehouse.

"He's not Jam-" Molly shrieked, before she was cut off by her husband shoving a wand under her chin to point at the girl. In that second, every wand-carrying member had theirs pointing at Ravens heart, head or throat. She stood with her hands up and the blank expression she usually wore, wether she was fighting a criminal, making tea, or infiltrating the Order of the Phoenix (Though she currently knew it only as an old house containing information she desperatly wanted)

"Who are you?" The man she knew as R. J. Lupin asked seriously.

"Don't I look familiar?" She replied, her voice cracking slightly from disuse over the past week. The words lay between them like a bridge. There was no trace of recognition in the haggard-looking man's eyes, only steely determination to extract answers. He would not cross it.

"What do you want?" The man she now recognised as Padfoot asked. The years had clearly not been kind to him. All the joy had been leeched from his face, replaced by hard lines. Still, there were traces of the handsomeness that once was, and she had no doubts it were him. Raven's heart felt as if it were taking punches. Here they were, in the flesh. Two men whom she might belong to.

"The Marauders." She replied, swallowing back a lump forming in her throat. The reaction was instant and unexpected. An uproar spread across the kitchen, questions flung at her like curses. Instinct jumped around inside her, told her to cover herself. She felt vulnerable, both physically and emotionally. Ignoring logic as she often did in dire situations, she reached towards the metal strip behind her. Knives hung there, either magnitised or magically, and she had caught their glint with her eye as she'd crept in. She pulled at one of the handles, extracting a medium-sized knife so quick no one had time to fling a spell.

There was a red-headed girl sitting in front of her, who had swung her head around as soon as she'd entered. She had no wand on her, or at least, it was not pointing in Raven's direction. Raven did not panic, so instead it was the same determination that appeared in Moony that caused her to bring the knife to the girls neck. The entire room fell silent so compleatly it was as if noise itself had been murdered. To her credit, the red-headed girl did not move a muscle.

"Let her go!" The red-headed woman, the girl's mother, shrieked. Raven showed no outward sign of hearing her, but inside she flinched. This was not her way of doing things. If Robin saw me now, she thought with a no guilt. Her thoughts were like that of a stalked animal's - quick and simple. Only later would she feel ashamed of her actions. She looked only from Moony to Padfoot, trying to see some of herself reflected in them. Nothing. Suddenly a boy stood up - one she recognised. Harry Potter stared at her very deliberately.

"What do you know about Marauders?" He asked. He was trying to stay calm, but Raven could feel rage and confusion inside him like a hurricane. She glanced at the lightning bolt scar on his forehead and wondered if he was brave or simply stupid. If she had been going to cut this girls throat, now would have been the perfect time. Of course she'd never do it, but he didn't know that. The desision to stand up and adress her directly was more rash that her desicion to come here in the first place, she thought wryly.

Raven opened her mouth to speak, to give them some sarcastic answer or another, when a grizzled older man with a dizzying blue eye shot a jet of light at her wordlessly and lightning-fast. Raven fell to the ground with a muffled thump, her eyes sliding closed as the knife hit the ground with a clang. The Red-headed girl received a tiny cut across her shoulder as it grazed past, but was otherwise unharmed.

The group of witches and wizards turned to stare at Mad-Eye Moody, who kept his wand out in front of him.

"That was unexpected." Ron Weasly muttered. His mother shot him her famous glare at the same time Hermione Granger shot him her famous withering look.

"You okay Ginny?" Harry asked. Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Arthur Weasly advanced on the Raven's body.

"She's out to it alright, but how the hell did she get into here?" Sirius asked. He did not expect an answer.

"More importantly, how does she know about the Marauders?" Lupin said, his voice trailing off into silence.

"'haps she's one of Voldemorts." Mundungus Flectcher suggested, bleary eyed.

"Voldemort wouldn't send in a wandless teenager to capture these two." Mad-eye grunted, after checking her pockets and coming up with no weapons but the knife that had falled from the girl's limp hand.

"I'll call Dumbledore." Molly said, hurrying off.

"And Serverus!" Lupin called after her. At Harry's questioning look, he added "We'll need Veritiserum."

The collection of witches and wizards continued to stare at the unconscious girl until she returned.

"He'll be here any minute."

Well, hope you liked it and it wasn't too confusing. The next chapter will be far more ordered, with much less reminising, and more interigating! We are well and truly into the magical world now. Please review, I really appreciate it.