A/N: Not really sure what to say this chapter, I've had a failure in the hopefully witty A/N's lately, so insert funny comment of choice here. If you recognise it, it isn't mine, and please review!


Compartment C had been magically expanded to such ridiculous luxurious standards, that Chris was seriously considering just torching the place, as it would be a kindness to the compartment. "Chris, m'boy!" The man Chris assumed with Professor H.E.H Slughorn jumped from his seat on seeing him, his large velvet-covered stomach seemingly filling the rest of the free space in the compartment. "Such an honour, m'boy, to meet you. Such an honour," he said, grabbing Chris' hand and shaking it thoroughly. "Now, do you know everyone?" he asked, waving a hand round at the fellow guests.

"I'll work it out," Chris interjected quickly. "I'm a quick study," he smirked, taking the empty seat beside Harry. Slughorn looked flustered for only a moment before returning to his previous beaming expression, retaking his seat quickly and looking out at them all in a way that was reminiscent of an indulgent uncle. Chris fought back the small shudder he wanted to let out; he had the oddest feeling this was going to be an afternoon of being kissed up too. He hated that.

"Well now, this is most pleasant," he said. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin, I've packed my own lunch ..." Chris began muting out the conversation, glad that he had had the patience to learn that particular little whitelighter trick when he was younger. It wasn't a case of not finding what these people were saying as interesting it was ... well actually it was. He found them all to be completely boring, and he wasn't quite sure why he tried to pretend otherwise. He knew his whole life was one big pretence, but maybe, he felt, he should try for a little more honesty in there as well. It would be a turn up for the books, at the very least.

"Now, Christopher, or is it Chris?" Slughorn's voice broke through the muting – it was usual when his name was mentioned. Chris looked up, and adopted a deep scowl.

"It's Chris," he said through gritted teeth. Slughorn beamed at him, ignoring the edge in his tone.

"Now Chris, you are another little celebrity, aren't you?" he said jovially, proving that he was deliberately ignoring the annoyance and slight hatred that was clear on Chris' face. "Almost equal to our own Harry here. But, of course," he said, pausing deliberately, "you're the second child aren't you? It would be your elder brother who has the lion's share of power within your family, am I correct?" he asked. Chris didn't respond, staring deliberately at the table, forcing himself to remain calm, reminding himself that burning a Professor was a bad thing that would get him kicked out of schoo... Hang on, since when did he actually carte about getting kicked out of Hogwarts? He hated the place, so why the hell was he trying to calm himself so he could remain there? "If the reports are true, you yourself are quite limited in your power," Slughorn gave a small laugh, "but talented enough with potions and thinking on your feet."

"... It might be the case." There was an odd shade to Chris' face, as though he were physically in pain with what Slughorn was saying. Harry, when thinking on it, would have considered it to be entirely possible.

"Oho," Slughorn said with a small tone of joy. "So that's how you play it is it? I've heard a lot about you dear boy," he informed him. Chris was suddenly very aware of just how quiet the rest of the guests were being. He was also aware that Slughorn knew a little more than Chris liked people knowing, and began wondering where the hell it was that he had gotten hold of his information. Chris wouldn't put it past this guy to have connections in the Underworld. "And about your family. Rumours suggest you know exactly how Piper Halliwell fell." There was a sudden intake of air from the three Gryffindors in the room, as they carefully shifted their chairs out from under the table, the best to make a quick escape with. This was not going to end well. "Now, despite how horrible it may be, my dear boy, it is something that needs to be shared with the larger magical community. To ease your pain," he added quickly. "A memoir of sorts, from the view of the only remaining Halliwell. I know someone in the publishing bus..."

"Shut. Up."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Shut up now and you'll make it to the feast tonight without a single mark on you," Chris said, looking with Slughorn with unbridled hatred in his eyes. "My mother's death is not something for you to use to gain another famous 'friend' you stupid overgrown walrus," he hissed. The rest of the table, following Harry, Neville, and Ginny's leads, began shifting away slowly. "Neither is the passing of the rest of my family. In fact, you wanna keep living your pathetic little waste of a life Sluggy?" he said. "You keep your mouth closed, and never dare to mention any of my family again." An unspoken threat hung in the air. Chris stood from the table, and orbed out.

Slughorn looked round. "... Oh dear." He said quietly. He hadn't meant to hurt the boy; that was the furthest thing from his intentions. Dumbledore had mentioned how much difficulties the boy was having with expressing his grief, and he had only thought that perhaps writing something in tribute would help him. He looked down at the table, as the rest of the guests departed, not quite sure what to say to him. He would need to find a way of apologising to Chris. But how? It was ... a perplexing situation. He only hoped he would be able to come up with a suitable solution sooner rather than later.

xXx

When Chris reappeared he set straight off into a walk, banging doors as loudly as he could manage, and generally throwing a typical teenage stroppy fit. He eventually came to the room he was looking for and threw himself into the chair in front of the desk, leaning forward to bury his head in his arms, leaning on to the desk, hiding his face deliberately, and muffling any sounds that happened to come from him. "I take it there is a reason for this temper tantrum?"

"Fuckin' new teacher," Chris said, though his voice was deeply muffled. "Kept going on ... trying to get me to ..." his voice trailed off. "Wanted to know about Mom's death." Wyatt sat back in his chair, before getting up, and moving over to kneel in front of his little brother. "Stupid fuckin' ... write a book on it, a memoir he called it."

"Chris, Chris its okay," Wyatt said soothingly, for once sounding like a brother instead of the head of an evil empire. He attempted to remove his brother's head from under his arms with no success. "Chris, its fine. You don't have to if you don't want to. This teacher can't make you do anything relating to your personal life that you're uncomfortable with." Wyatt was at this point seriously thinking over a suggestion Sid had made to him, out of concern for Chris. It would work in his favour, and allow him a small rest bite from Thomas' constant 'concerns.' It would also allow him, most importantly, to keep an eye on his little brother. Whatever had happened the day that their mother had been killed, it had deeply affected Chris to the point of it being able to stop him dead. Wyatt himself had no idea what had happened, he had actually been at detention while it happened. He had come home to the sight of his brother covered in their mother's blood, sobbing brokenly over her. Leo hadn't come when Chris called. Wyatt had almost killed their father for what he did. As a consequence of whatever happened, being forcibly reminded of it turned Chris into the young child Wyatt could remember crying when hearing Leo was too busy to come to the ballgame he had promised that they would all go to.

Wyatt wondered if the fact that he hated his father because of the way he treated his brother was a sign of some kind of lingering 'goodness' in him, as Chris would put it.

"Wyatt, I don't wanna be there anymore," Chris said quietly. "He's a fame leech, he won't stop..."

"You're not going to be there alone," Wyatt insisted. "Not anymore." He stood, and moved over to his intercom. It was a new toy of his, and he was quite proud of it. It was definitely easier on his throat. "Viktor?" he called into it, getting a crackling noise in return, letting him now that Viktor could hear him. "Tell Thomas I want him in my office now will you?" He sat down in his seat and waited, knowing it would only be a few moments until Thomas arrived. He kept an eye on Chris, who still hadn't moved.

"You called on me, my Lord?" Voldemort arrived, bowing slightly to Wyatt, hiding his surprise at seeing Chris there. Although it was no secret that the two didn't get on, they attempted to remain civil in front of Wyatt, and judging by the expression on the elder Halliwell's face, this would be one of those times where insulting the child would not work in his favour. "Is ... there a problem?"

"I'm going to be a taking a period of leave," Wyatt replied briskly. "Lord Christopher has informed me of an interesting situation taking place at Hogwarts that warrants a closer observation on my part." He spoke briskly, moving around his office bedroom with ease, packing what he felt he would need to appear to the staff of the school to be a model pupil. "I am leaving you in a state of command, I expect you to use it wisely and to not run my followers into the ground," he added sternly, knowing how Voldemort viewed some of those who agreed with Wyatt's way of thinking.

"My Lord, is this at all wise?" Voldemort said, attempting to hide the look of pure glee on his face. Wyatt rolled his eyes in response. How often it was that Thomas 'forgot' that he was speaking to the most powerful magical being in the world. "But of course," he added hastily, "far be it from me to question your wise judgement."

"Indeed," Wyatt replied dryly. There was a pause, as his hands lingered over the case he was packing. "Tell Sid I took her advice, won't you?" he said, moving quickly to close the case. Voldemort stared at his back, taking it as the unspoken order to leave the room. When Voldemort had left, Wyatt turned back to Chris. "Chris?" he called softly. "Can we orb into this school?"

Chris slowly pushed his head up, eyes red rimmed, a clear sign that he might have been doing the one thing he claimed never to do; cry. "You'll need to manipulate your orbing into appearing like whitelighter orbs," he let out a small bitter laugh, "it fuckin' hurts, but it works."

"You've done it before?" Wyatt couldn't help but sound suspicious; it just came out with his words. Chris wiped his eyes on his sleeve before throwing Wyatt a scathing look.

"If I didn't they would have worked me out the minute I appeared to them Wy," he said slowly, leaning back in his hair. "The pain isn't something you'll get used to either. You're completely forcing change in every molecule, and Wy, this plan is completely idiotic. They think you're dead!" he said, suddenly realising what it was his brother had planned and snapping quickly back to his usual self. Wyatt hid his smirk. "Not to mention, you're risking losing everything to Snake Boy! Have you completely lost your mind?!"

"Chris, I have not lost my mind, my place will work, and we can it explain it all by saying I cast a spell on you to make you believe I was dead," Wyatt said calmly. "I have been considering this for a while, and it's simple enough. It's well known that I am powerful. Surely it can be assumed that out of concern for my brother's safety I made him unaware of my being alive." There were a few moments of silence, as Wyatt allowed Chris time to consider every avenue of this plan. Evidentially Chris was too tired to fully consider it, because he simply slumped forward in his chair, and sighed.

"Follow me."

xXx

"Professor Snape, meanwhile, will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore said, raising his voice so it carried over all the muttering from the students. Chris and Wyatt stood, leaning against the doors into the Great Hall, listening to the announcements carefully. At the announcement, Chris turned to face Wyatt, an eyebrow raised in questioning. Wyatt shook his head, slightly surprised. They turned again, listening as the room fell silent. "Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength." There was a pause, as Dumbledore allowed the full meaning of these words to sink into his students. "I cannot emphasise strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways," here Wyatt couldn't help but slip into a rather sinister looking smirk. They would have increased the protection on the exterior of the castle, but not the interior.

"But we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them – in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately."

Chris let out a small snort. "Not likely Gandalf."

"I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and each other's safety." There was another brief pause. "But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say goodnight. Pip, pip!" There was a deafening scraping noise, and Chris nodded his head for Wyatt to follow him. Slowly, and deliberately, the pair made their way into the Great Hall, well aware that every set of eyes were on them. Dumbledore stood from his seat, looking directly at Chris and Wyatt, his blue eyes devoid of their usual twinkle, so much so that Chris couldn't help but smirk. The man thought he always knew what was going on; it was fun to confuse him on occasion. "Chris..." he began, looking at Wyatt with a questioning glance. Chris checked the table to make sure Cole wasn't there before providing his explanation.

"He wasn't dead."

"So it would appear."

"I should explain," Wyatt said, with a good natured smile to the Professors. "It's been nearly three years since Chris has seen me. After our mother ... well, I opted to go after the demons on my own," he said, bowing his head as though this were incredibly painful for him to talk about. It was possible that thinking on his mother's death did hurt, but who knew really? "But there was always the worry that they would go after my brother, thinking he would know where I was. I couldn't let that happen to Chris. So... I made him believe me dead." The Professors stared, obviously not sure whether to believe him or not. On the one hand, surely Chris of all people would be able to tell if someone had modified his memory, yet on the other it was well known – well rumoured – of just how powerful Wyatt Halliwell was meant to be. "And now, well, the demons are dealt with, and I felt like I should attempt to finish my education in some way. Especially if the rumours of the Source being back are true."

"And where do you intend to continue this education?" McGonagall, looking at Wyatt carefully down her nose. She noticed how quiet Chris was being, but wondered if she was just imagining it.

"Here, if you would allow me," he asked Dumbledore, putting on his most earnest smile. "Of course, I would understand if it was a problem..." he trailed off, shooting a quick, unnoticeable glare at Snape.

"Headmaster," Snape said, in his usual disinterested tones, "it would work in our favour to have both Halliwell boys here," his voice dropped slightly, "if the elder has even a fraction of the power he is rumoured to have..." he let his voice trail off deliberately as Dumbledore nodded, understanding Severus' meaning.

"We'll need to have you Sorted," Dumbledore said, looking directly at Wyatt. "As for what year, I think it would be wise to place you in the same year as your brother. Perhaps," he said, looking between the two, "you will be the good influence he needs to actually sit and complete his work." Wyatt smiled.

"Of course ... sir."

xXx

The music blared in the Gryffindor common room, as Chris reclined on one of the more comfortable armchairs in the room. The ones in the upper two years had opted to hang around for the impromptu party, shooing the younger students away to their beds, saying that they were too young and not quite used to the early rises yet. Wyatt sat in amongst a large group of females, all of whom appeared to be hanging on his every syllable. Chris laughed slightly at the sight, watching as Hermione split from the group, coming over to sit with him. "Not interested in my brother's heroic tales of daring do then Beautiful?"

"Oh no, they're very interesting," she said with a wide smile. "I was just wondering how you were. After all, finding out your brother put a spell on you to make you believe he was dead? I can't even imagine how awful it must have felt to find out it was all a lie."

"Beautiful," Chris began, "it was a relief. Knowing that I wasn't alone? That Wy was alive? I'm awesome, he's awesome, and together we are the brothers of awesomeness."

"Are you quite sure Chris?" Hermione asked a look of concern on her face. Chris gave her a small smile, nodding. "If you're sure then..." she trailed off, not really sounding convinced, but not wanting to insult Chris or offend either of the brothers. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go to my bed."

"That an invitation?"

"I'm choosing not to answer that," she replied, smirking at him just slightly through her blush, as she quickly made her way up the stairs to the sixth year girl dorm. Dog padded over, rubbing his head against Chris' hand, determined to get a small portion of the attention he was used to getting in the school, and since the girls who usually fussed him were currently occupied by his Master's brother, his Master would need to go. Dog didn't like his Master's brother; he always made him do things that ended up with his Master being hurt in some way. Even though it was usual for hellhounds to actually form attachments to people, Dog was fond of his Master, and would protect him till the end. As long as he gave him the right amount of attention, that is.

"Hey boy," Chris smiled, scratching Dog behind his ear. "You're not liking having Wy monopolise all the attention, huh?" Dog didn't answer him, but Chris knew he was working along the right lines. "Don't worry 'bout it boy. He's just the new toy for them, they'll return to lavishing you with attention soon enough," he assured the hellhound, who looked up at him amused, before lying down in front of the fire. It always had been his favourite place to sleep. "That actually seems like a good idea boy," he said softly, looking over at Wyatt who was still entertaining the masses. "Sleep, 'cause I'm sure I'm gonna need all the energy I can get."