Sorry it's been a while!! I've been soooo busy!!! Spirit Week was last week at my school and I had to help out with a bunch of stuff. The Senoirs got disqualified cause they suck! And the Freshmen won!! It was sooo stupid! But it was hilarious that they won. And pathetic. Bleah...

Iiinnnyways, enough rambling. So far, this had been my favorite chapter to write! I've had this in my head for a while, so it was only a matter of time before it was actually written!

Disclaimer:If I owned Charmed or Harry Potter . . . let's just say I wouldn't be arguing with my dad that posting this chapter is more important than my math homework.

Chapter 6: Not So Different

Several hours later, Chris sat alone, contemplating the evening's previous events. The other Order members had left a while ago, leaving just Harry, Ron, Hermione, and himself at Grimmauld Place. By the time everyone had departed, it was around three in the morning. Harry had shown Chris to his room and Chris was left to do what he pleased for the next few hours. The Witchlighter had quickly discovered the small ledge, formed by the roof of a window that stuck out slightly from the wall, under his window. He decided that he would not be able to fall asleep and that the ledge would be the perfect place to think. He was able to sit comfortably on the ledge, his legs drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and his chin resting on his knees. The surface was still a bit damp from the rain, though it had slowed to a drizzle before eventually stopping while he had been talking with the Order.

It was getting lighter and lighter with each passing moment. He didn't know what time it was; he was far too comfortable to move his arm to check. He was also afraid that any sudden movement would set off the headache that truth potion had given him. It was taken a while to wear off completely and, once it did, there was still the lingering side effect of a terrible headache, mostly likely a result from drinking the whole bottle.

He heard the door open behind him and footsteps cross the room. He turned his head slightly to see Harry sticking his head out of the window, his hands resting on the windowsill. "Hi," he said, turning his head back to gaze over the tops of the houses and the trees.

"Hi," Harry returned. "Did you stay out here since you came up?"

"Pretty much."

"Oh." Harry was slightly disappointed by the lack of response from his companion. The two sat in silence for a few minuets before Harry broke the silence again. "What does your family think about you being here?"

"Considering most of them are dead, I don't think they mind much."

"Oh," Harry said stupidly. It wasn't so much the kid's response that threw him off guard; it was more the off-handed way he said it. "What happened?"

"I really don't want to talk about it."

"That's fine, but I just have one question. Is-is your mother still alive?"

Chris heaved a pain-filled sigh at the mention of his mother. "No, she was killed in a demon attack when I was fourteen," he answered, his words laced with pain.

"I'm so sorry. I met your mother once. It must have been ten years ago now. There was a sort of convention thing between the two magical worlds, to try to reconcile our differences and work one another in the future. It ended rather badly, to say the least, but I did talk with your mother. She was an extraordinary woman and a powerful witch."

Harry heard Chris sniff slightly as he nodded his head.

"What about your father?"

Chris snorted. "You could hardly call him a father. He was never around, never there for when I needed him, but always there for Wyatt."

"Was he the Elder you mentioned earlier; you know the one that you said didn't believe you."

"Yeah, that would be him. I can understand that it's a little hard for him to take in, but he could at least believe me. I'm his son, too."

Harry was now sure that his father was the man Chris had been arguing with in his memories. "What about any other family? Aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents?"

"Leo was a Whitelighter for several decade before he met my mom so his parents were long gone. My mom's mom died when she was still pretty young, but I see her occasionally when we summon her. The only grandparent that was still alive was my mom's dad. He was the greatest, though!"

"'Was the greatest'," Harry lamented sadly.

"Yeah, he died from lung cancer three years ago. Grandpa was the one who helped me through everything when my mom died. He was the closest thing I ever had to a father."

Harry couldn't help but be reminded of Sirius from the way Chris talked about his grandfather. "I know you had two aunts, the other two in the Power of Three. What about them?"

"After my mom died, the Power of Three was broken. Without it, Aunt Phoebe and Aunt Paige didn't last long. My cousins didn't last long either; without the Power of Three's protection, they were easy pickings for demons. They all were. Most of them were dead before I turned eighteen."

Harry could tell how hard it was to talk about his family, especially after keeping it to himself for so long. The wizard also knew that it helped to talk to someone. Better late then never. "You said most of them are dead; that means some are still alive, right?"

Chris was having trouble continuing his talk about his cousins. It pained him to talk about them in such a callous manner, but he had to try to distance himself from his pain. "Yeah, only two are alive. Paige's son, Henry Jr., and Phoebe's daughter, Peyton. They're with Phoebe's husband, Coop, who is a Cupid. They are constantly moving around, trying to stay away from Wyatt, so I hardly see them."

"What about Paige's husband?"

"He was killed in the same attack as my mom. He was mortal; he didn't stand a chance against the demons."

Harry could practically feel all the pent-up emotions inside of Chris. It was a wonder he didn't explode. "You know," he began, "we're not really that different. We may come from two completely different magical worlds, but we have a lot in common."

"Like what?"

The wizard expected Chris' tone to be sarcastic, but he sounded genuinely interested in what he had to say. "I lost my parents when I was very young."

"I remember reading a bit about that in History at Magic School. Voldemort killed your parents when you were one year old, trying to get to you. He tried to kill you, too, but all you got was that scar," Chris recalled, his eyes traveling to Harry's forehead.

"Yup, that pretty much sums it up. I was forced to go live with my aunt and uncle after their deaths. I'm sure you went to one of your aunts' houses after you mother died." Harry continued after seeing Chris nod his head, "I never met any other family other than my aunt, uncle, and cousin. I know you had a large family already, but never got to truly meet so many family members. You grandmother, for example. And your oldest aunt, Prue. Both cut down by your family's line of work, dead long before their time.

"By the sound of it, you attended Magic School, just like I attended Hogwarts. And most importantly, you have had a huge responsibility shoved onto your shoulders at an age that is much too young."

Chris just stared out at the colors of the sunrise that filtered through the trees and rooftops, burning away the lingering mist form the rainfall. He felt the headache from the truth potion increase as he thought about what Harry was saying. Harry was seventeen when he went on his quest to destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes and eventually Voldy himself, thus ridding his magical world of the threat of great evil. Chris did have a similar responsibility. "You had the responsibility of Voldemort and his Horcruxes. You needed – and wanted – to stop him; and the only way to do that would be to destroy him. He killed your parents. But Wyatt . . . he needs to be stopped. I want to stop him from doing whatever he is planning; it would only be right if it was me. But I don't want to kill him. He didn't kill my mom and it isn't his fault Leo likes him better. We are a lot alike, but the situation is completely different. My brother is the great evil in my story, not a man who murdered my parents along with countless other people. I couldn't kill him, even if that was my only option left."

Harry nodded in understanding. He was glad that Chris felt that way. It meant he would only try harder to stop Wyatt before he really got started in order to prevent the situation intensifying to that conclusion. "I'm sorry if I brought up painful memories."

"It's okay. I think I needed to talk to somebody. My grandpa was great to talk to, but a lot has happened in three years."

Harry nodded again and opened his mouth to say something else, but the sound of the doorbell cut him off. The doorbell was quickly followed by Mrs. Black's screeches. Harry pulled himself back inside the house and glanced at the clock: 6:34. "I'll go get that," he said before leaving the room.

Outside, on the ledge, a single tear fell from Chris' left eye and rolled down his cheek.

Sooo . . . I could have rambled on forever about how much I think Chris and Harry are alike. I think I listed the most obvious here, at least obvious to me. They also both have green eyes, but I think that would be kind peofileish if Harry said that. lol. Please, please, please review!!