A/N: You know what? I only own the laptop on which this was written and some of what is written below. Seriously, if you recognise it, it probably isn't mine. Just letting you all know. Oh yeah, big love to all my brilliant reviews. You guys really know how to cheer a kid up out of the studying funk. Exams in a few weeks you know. So any and all reviews gratefully recieved. And on with the show!

"Oh, I believe she said her name was Piper. Piper Halliwell."

It was funny how two words could have such an effect on him. Nearly an hour later the words slightly floated around his mind, confusing him as much as they did when they were first spoken. Chris sat on a windowsill in a deserted corridor of the school, staring out of the window, trying to regain some sense. He had skipped out of his first lesson, History of Magic according to his newly acquired timetable, to come and allow himself some time to think rationally. Or at least, that had been the original plan, unfortunately his mind continued to focus on what Luna had told him.

If there was one person in the world he felt would never have become a whitelighter, his mother was it. She hated whitelighters and the Elders, a feeling which he wholeheartedly shared, and would have never joined them. Not unless they had offered her something important to her. Chris wondered if the Elders had double-cross her, telling her that if she became a whitelighter she would be allowed to see her children, while at the same time making sure that he would never get to see her until he died. Chris often wondered why it was that the greatest force of good could sometimes be downright evil. They really had made sure he would never see her, he remembered looking down at his fist and a scar running across it. It was thinner than some of the scars that he had, but this one was the mark of a deal which he had been forced to make. He fingered the scar lightly, lost in his memories for a moment. If he cared to remember correctly, it was that scar that had set him on the path that he was on. But of course, he didn't care to remember correctly.

Except that he couldn't help but remember that meeting, and the anger that he had felt. When he was a child he had thought the Elders to be great forces of good, if perhaps with the tendency to do the most annoying things at times. But things had started to go wrong round about the time that Mel had died. 'Memento mori Melinda,' Chris thought, a small smile appearing on his face. 'I made it sis, got into the House you loved as well, just a pity it wasn't you.' Melinda Halliwell, his baby sister, forever his baby sister. It was round about the time she died that things had started to go wrong with the Elders. His mother was furious and heartbroken, her youngest child, her only girl, killed. Not even by a demon, but by a stupid drunk teenager who had just gotten his driving licence. She was only 7, she had been the centre of his and his family's world. Their little Princess. When he thought on it, Chris could see a lot of Melinda in Luna. They both believed utterly and completely in things that most people dismissed as fairy tales. Chris knew that Melinda wouldn't have become a whitelighter, she was too young when she had passed for the Elders to have let her. He never knew if his mother was pleased or saddened by that information.

But still…for his mother to become a whitelighter. He let out a humourless chuckle. "Great to see you sticking to your convictions mom," he muttered softly, still staring out of the window. "I know you're probably listening to me right now, and you're not happy at me from what Lunar said, but…" Chris paused, licking his dry lips. "But…" another humourless chuckle escaped him. "God, I can't even say it. How pathetic am I? I just…I miss you mom," he finished, leaning his forehead against the glass window. "And I'm trying, really I am, but this…my mission, it's hard." Whether or not Piper knew what he was on about, and Chris suspected that Cole might have been speaking to her so she might know, was not important. He didn't even know what was important. Funny how two words could have such an effect on him.

Chris looked up from the window when a bell sounded throughout the school. He frowned, and checked his watch. Apparently it was time for the next lesson. Chris dug in his pocket, pulling out the parchment which contained his timetable. "Okay so Monday, second…Double Potions," he muttered, a small smirk appearing. He liked Potions, he was good at Potions. "I think…that just maybe, it's time that I grace the boring masses with my presence," he grinned, turning in the direction of the Potions class.

XXX

"And what time would you call this?" Snape questioned Chris when he stepped into the classroom (dungeon room surely?). Chris looked around, apparently he was late for class. He checked his watch again, according to it class had started ten minutes ago. "Well?" Snape asked again, obviously showing him what counted as politeness since he was a new student. Or because technically Chris was his boss in the other side.

"Well I know you can't really tell down here, 'cause it's all dark and dingy, but this is what people like to call morning," Chris smirked, suddenly loving the position he was in. "Now this is Potions right? Or have I accidentally wandered into the land of the S&M lovin'?" He asked, a look of innocent on his face, though his eye held a wicked look. A chuckle went the room, and Chris could have sworn he had heard a snort of laughter. Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, and take your seat or it shall be 100," Snape threatened Chris, who shrugged lightly. He didn't want to be in school so why should he care if his House lost points. He stalked towards the back of the classroom, taking the empty seat opposite Hermione Granger. Chris smirked slightly, and leaned towards her.

"Hey Beautiful, how about after this me and you run away, just the two of us, and elope?" Chris grinned at her, causing her to blush furiously and stare at the table. He looked again at her, then looked up at her tablemates. "Second thoughts Beautiful, we'd better not. Weasel and Wonder Boy wouldn't be happy." Chris made a move of mock heartbreak. "I guess…it just wasn't meant to be."

"Will you just shut up!" Ron hissed at him, his face flushed angrily. Chris smirked, miming zipping his lips shut. He turned slightly in his seat, to listen to Snape having managed to annoy at least one person in under a minute, and embarrass another. All in all, a pretty good minute's work for him.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation," Snape was saying. Chris' smirk grew with confidence. He had made this potion too many times before, and could make it without looking at any instructions or directions. "Be warned," Snape continued, "if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." Chris didn't need to look at Hermione to know that she had sat up straighter, paying extremely close attention. "The ingredients and method are on the blackboard, you will find everything you need in the store cupboard." Snape flicked his wand as he spoke, setting things up for the class. "You have an hour and a half…start."

"An hour and a half? For a simple Draught of Peace?" Chris shook his head as he muttered, not understand the way this school worked. He had been made to make this potion in a lesson back at Magic School once before, in Advanced Potions, and that class had given them only forty-five minutes. Chris quickly picked up the first lot of ingredients and started to his, his movements quick and expert. Potion making, he mused, was a lot like cooking at times. The more you did, the better your technique got, and - hopefully - the more skilled you became. He paused momentarily, stirring the potion, and looked up. From what he could tell, he was the only one getting through the potion with ease.

And it was true, he was the only one easily brewing this potion. To the rest of the class, who had not had Chris' experience in having to make potions under unusual circumstances, the Draught of Peace was a difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added. Which is what Chris was doing, with a sense of self satisfaction that always came to him when he knew he had finished a potion correctly. A light silver vapour began to rise from his potion.

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," Snape called five minutes later, with only ten minutes left of their designated time limit. Chris looked up, lazily making sure his flames were at a consistent temperature. Harry's cauldron was issuing dark grey steam, Ron's was spitting green sparks. Hermione's however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapour, much like his own. As Snape by he looked down at both potions over his hooked nose with a single comment, obviously finding nothing to criticise. He stopped at Harry's potion with a smirk of his own on his face. "Potter, what is this supposed to be?"

Harry looked up, obviously keeping in anger. "The Draught of Peace," he answered tensely. Chris looked over at the potion. From what he could guess, it seemed as though Harry had missed an ingredient, Chris guessed syrup hellebore, which had resulted in the dark grey steam. Of course, that mistake could be fixed by adding four drops of hellebore and a sprig of mint to eliminate any after effects. Whether or not Harry would be told this was a matter of debate, as Chris wasn't going to tell him, and he doubted Hermione if knew. He knew that Snape wouldn't tell even if it meant a large cash bonus.

"Tell me Potter, can you read?" Snape asked Harry softly, Chris watched with little interest, wondering how they would get to his assumed outcome - Harry's potion going bye bye in Chris' own words. Harry's fingers clenched tightly around his wand.

"Yes I can," he answered Snape, somehow keeping a reign on his temper.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

"Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore," Harry read, frowning more as he went on. His gaze dropped to his cauldron, realising his mistake.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?" Snape questioned, knowing fine well the mistake which Harry had made. Harry's answer was soft, almost reluctant to be heard.

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," Harry spoke louder this time, "I forgot the hellebore." Chris looked over at the boy, wondering if just maybe it was worth telling him the way to fix his mistake. He watched carefully, deciding quickly that although telling him would help him in the future, it would give out the impression that he actually cared what happened to these people and to be completely truthful, he didn't.

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco." The contents of Harry's cauldron vanished, leaving him standing beside an empty cauldron, looking like a fool. Chris was quite impressed by the spell, which he took to be some sort of a vanishing charm. He still considered his own orbing to be slightly more effective, as he had managed to get to the level where he didn't need to speak to orb an object - though he did speak when he wanted to seem more impressive - but the spell was interesting. 'And vanished objects go into non-being ,' Chris remembered vaguely from an old Magic School lesson, 'which is, really, everything.'

"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing. Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday," Snape ordered the class who began to fill their flagons. Chris watched as Harry cleared away his things in anger, noting that the Wonder Boy's potion had been no worse than the Weasel's which smelt of bad eggs. He watched as everyone filed out of the classroom, taking his time in cleaning out his cauldron and packing away his things. He felt Snape's gaze on him as he cleaned. He sighed, having finished cleaning out the cauldron, and spoke without turning round.

"My, my, Severus, to think that a great member of our society like you is left to teach obnoxious brats like Wonder Boy. My the mighty do fall don't they," Chris turned to look at Snape, an eyebrow raised. Snape looked down at his desk.

"Forgive me for asking, my Lord, but why was I not informed of your coming to the school?" He asked, avoiding Chris' eyes. The perfect servant bowing to his master. Chris smirked.

"Oh come on Sev, I don't need to tell you a damn thing," Chris answered, sitting himself on one of the benches. He looked around the classroom. "Nice little set up you got here, bit dank but it'll do I suppose," he continued. Snape looked confused.

"'Do', my Lord?" Snape questioned, looking up at the teenager to whom he had to answer to. Chris looked over at him, that smirk still on his face.

"Now that's my little secret Sev, and enough with the 'my Lord', I'm not Tommy," he added, feeling quite put out at being referred to by a title which he hated. He looked around the classroom again. "Why didn't you tell Wonder Boy how to fix his mistake? I mean, I don't like the brat but it's gotta be easier than having him repeat the class right?"

"It is not my place to coddle the students," Snape answered. "Potter is already Dumbledore's favourite and it has given him a sense of invulnerability in this school. He has to be shown that he cannot expect the same treatment with all the teachers." Snape spoke with a hint of a sneer in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Chris drawled. "Face it Sev, you just don't like Wonder Boy," Chris paused in thought. "Can't really say I blame you, the kid is too damn…good," he added, scowling briefly. "It's nauseating."

"My Lord… Chris," Snape added hastily, remembering what he was told. "I beg pardon for asking this, but just what do you hope to achieve here?" Snape spoke as evenly as he could, but there was a hint of curiosity that did not fit the servant-master speech he had been affecting. Chris watched the hooked nose man for a moment, wondering if what he believed about him was true. He slid off the desk and walked towards the door. Snape stopped him. "I think I have a right to know what has been planned," he insisted. Chris looked at him.

"No, you really don't," he informed Snape, walking out of the dungeon classroom.

XXX

Chris found his path to the Great Hall unexpectedly blocked by some invisible force field, causing him to frown in concentration. Who would try to stop him from having his lunch? It wasn't as if he was particularly hungry, but it was the principle of the thing. He shrugged, deciding that he would just eat more at dinner that night. Not that he thought much of the food here anyway. He turned away from the Great Hall, and made his way towards the North Tower, where his next class, Divination, was meant to be taking place. He wasn't in a hurry to get to class, but he had to admit a slight interesting in the subject. He supposed it was due to his Aunt's power of premonition. He doubted the teacher here would have the same power, but it was worth a look to see.

He came up into the corridor below the North Tower, and found the Wonder Boy himself sitting alone underneath the trap door with lead to the class. "Well, if it isn't the king of the Gryffindorks himself. what's up Wonder Boy, your sidekicks too busy screwing to talk to you?" He called over, smirking slightly. Harry didn't respond. "Oh an icy demeanour. That'll really shut me up," Chris laughed. "Nah, I could talk for America if I wanted to," he continued, walking over and sitting down beside Harry. "Now, come on you can tell me, is it that your jealous of Hermione 'cause you wanted Ron for yourself?"

"Will you just shut the hell up Chris?" Harry snapped. Chris turned and looked, somewhat surprised.

"Was that a tone I heard from you Wonder Boy, oh dear, what will people think of you now?" Chris smirked, feeling amused at the situation. Harry glared.

"They'll thank me for telling you to shut up," he snapped once more at Chris, whose smirk grew. "And wipe that bloody smirk of your face, is that all you know? Cutting remarks and stupid smirks?" Harry scowled. Chris shrugged.

"Well I do have a good scowl, and I'm often quite witty," he spoke, as if he had taken serious consideration with Harry's remark. "Chill Wonder Boy, stress any more and it'll be The Boy Who Lived To Die Of A Premature Heart Attack, and then were would your poor little wizarding world be?" Harry opened his mouth to answer Chris when the bell rang loudly. He snapped his mouth shut and climbed up the silver ladder that lead to the Divination classroom, Chris following behind him.

After taking the seat closest to the ladder, Chris took the time to look around the overheated classroom, and to study the Divination teacher herself. Sybil Trelawney, the great-great-granddaughter of the famous wizarding world Seer Cassandra Trelawney, reminded Chris of some sort of insect. She was a thin woman, draped in shawls and glittered with strings of beads, her glasses hugely magnifying her eyes. She wandered around the room, placing battered leather-bound books on each of the tables. Chris had heard something of Cassandra Trelawney, and if the teacher here had a fraction of her talent, then he assumed it would be an interesting lesson. However, he doubted that she would know how to truly control her gift - hadn't Cassandra herself turned mad with the power? The rest of the class arrived over the next five minutes, taking their seats.

"Good day, and welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely - as of course I knew you would," Trelawney spoke in a misty, dreamy tone. Chris snorted. This woman was playing at being a Seer, whether she had the power of premonition or not. She coughed lightly, an airy cough though necessary, Chris thought, even if just to rid her throat of the noxious fumes in the room. Scented candles to set the mood never set the mood, they just made people cough.

"You will find on the tables before you…" Trelawney continued, Chris tuning out each word she spoke as she spoke it. He looked over the book idly, wondering what his Aunt Phoebe would have made of this class. He doubted she would have liked it, and would have probably started an argument with Trelawney on the 'true' way to see things. And he would have placed all the money he had on his Aunt winning, she was downright vicious when she had wanted to be. Chris turned another page in the book, his eyes growing heavy. The heat of the room mixed with the overpowering scent was uncomfortable, and made him feel tired. His lids dropped and his head sank nearer the table, resting in the crook of propped up arm. His lids dropped once…twice…

"You there! Boy!" A loud voice caused Chris' head to shoot straight up. He blinked at the onset of sudden light and noticed that the class was staring at him. He must have fallen asleep. He looked around. "What were you doing sleeping?" Trelawney demanded of him. Chris paused for a moment, he could either answer her question sarcastically, a method he favoured, or he could screw with their minds. He smirked.

Chris gasped loudly, mimicking the facial expression his Aunt always had when she had a premonition. Trelawney eyes widened. "What is it? What do you see?" She asked, leaning nearer Chris, who leant back slightly. He opened his eyes, faking a look of confusion.

"I…I saw people. Lots of people, all in black robes, walking around...and there was this strange ringing noise…almost like a bell," as Chris spoke the bell rang loudly, signalling the end of the lesson. He fixed on a look of shock. "Just like that one in fact," he informed Trelawney, before moving to climb down the ladder quickly. That was incredibly lucky, the bell going right after he had mentioned one. Of course, he had been asleep for the whole lesson so it was due to go anyway. He paused in the middle of the corridor, wondering if his quick thinking and then the bell ringing had just been a little too lucky. He shook his head, dismissing the thought, his problem was he was too suspicious at times. He walked towards his last class, Defence Against the Dark Arts, the one class on his timetable he had decided that he would attend every single lesson of. He had a slight score to settle with the toad after all.

He took a seat at the very back of the classroom, which meant he was sitting behind Craig and Luperca, both of whom were talking quietly, with Craig looking angry for the first time in Chris' short time of knowing him. "Hey, what's the deal Wereboy?" Chris asked, frowning slightly. Craig turned in his seat. "Well?" Chris asked again.

"Umbridge is a known and public hater of all 'half-breeds', and top of her list are werewolves," Craig answered, looking angry and doing his best to keep his voice level. Chris looked up at the toad, who was sitting smiling in a sickly manner.

"So basically, Craig has no chance because the cow won't let stereotypes be," Luperca added in a hiss, turning round in her chair to face Chris as well. She paused momentarily, staring at him. Chris' eyebrow rose, silently asking her what she was looking at. She shook her head, clearing whatever thought it was she had, before turning back around to face the front. Chris and Craig both stared at her, confused. Craig shrugged at Chris, not understanding his friend's actions either. Chris watched as Craig turned back to face the front of the class, and then looked back up at the front himself.

"Well good afternoon!" Umbridge said, only getting a few mumbled 'good afternoons' in reply. "Tut, tut. That won't do, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge'. One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!" The class chanted their good afternoons at her, Chris remaining determinedly silent, watching at the class was told to put their wands away and bring their quills out. Umbridge then pulled out her own unusually short wand, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it, words appearing instantly

Defence Against the Dark Arts
A Return to Basic Principles.

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? " Umbridge stated to the class, turning to face them. She continued on in her steam, mentioning that the previous teachers of this class never taught them what the Ministry approved of them learning. She rapped the blackboard again, the first message disappearing and being replaced with the 'Course Aims'

1.Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic

2.Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can be legally used

3.Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

For the next few minutes, the room was filled with the sound of scratching quills on parchment. Chris looked at the board, reading through each aim carefully and thoroughly. There was no mention of actually getting to use any of the defensive spells they were to be learning about. It didn't really bother him, but he couldn't help but wonder if the Ministry really was that paranoid that they would limit the teaching of students just to protect themselves. Thankfully he didn't seem to be the only one in the class to notice the lack of practical lessons in the course aims. Despite having been told to sit and read quietly, Hermione Granger was sitting actually complaining to Umbridge.

"There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells," she stated bluntly, which lead to a short silence in which many class members turned their heads to frown at the course aims, which were still being displayed on the board. Of course, Hermione's very blunt statement lead the class to an uproar - apparently they didn't like not being able to actually practice the spells. Umbridge didn't seem to liked being questioned about her course aims, either, turning away from the person she was speaking to all the time

Finally, in a horribly honeyed voice, she asked the question that Chris had been waiting for, "Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" Harry glared up at her, anger flashing dangerously in his eyes.

"Hmm, let's think…" he said in a mock thoughtful voice. "Maybe … Lord Voldemort?" There were numerous reactions to this. Weasley gasped, one of the Gryffindor girls uttered a little scream, and Longbottom slipped off his stool. For her credit, however, Umbridge didn't even flinch. She stared at Harry.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter," she said calmly. By now the whole class were staring at the two, deadly silent. "Now let me make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead - "

Here Harry cut in loudly. "He wasn't dead, but yeah, he's returned!" He commented angrily, still glaring over at Umbridge. Chris watched carefully, waiting, wondering exactly how deep in denial the Ministry were. It wasn't as if Tommy hadn't been all that careful the past few months or so. Well, okay so he hadn't, but that was only after the Source had threatened him a few times. Which Chris had found immensely fun to watch.

"Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," Umbridge breathed without looking at Harry. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie." Chris bristled. If Voldemort returning was simply a lie, then that lie could be really sadistic.

"It is NOT a lie! I saw him, I fought him!" Harry insisted, yelling at Umbridge. Chris smirked, remembering the fun he had annoying Tommy with the knowledge that a child had fought him and got away…again. And he was meant to be the fully trained Dark wizard.

"Detention, Mr Potter! Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office," Umbridge snapped at Harry triumphantly. "I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard." Again Chris smirked. He was a danger and look, he was sitting right under the Ministry's nose. Blind bats. "If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend," Chris immediately decided that if she was meant to be his friend, he was better off not having any at all. "And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners'." Just like a teacher, to get back to their lesson plan at all costs.

As Umbridge sat down, Harry stood up, drawing everyone's attention. Chris closed his mouth, deciding that he could wait to say what he wanted to say. This was getting interesting. "So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord did he?" Harry asked, his voice shaking with restrain and righteous anger. God, Chris hated do-gooders.

Umbridge looked up at Harry, staring at him with not even a fake smile. "Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," she told Harry coldly. Harry glared back.

"It was murder. Voldemort killed him and you know it," he said, shaking with anger. Chris found himself mentally applauding him, for at least having the guts to stand up and yell the truth…seems like something he would do himself. Umbridge continued to stare at Harry.

"Come here, Mr Potter dear," she called in her most girlish voice, something that made Chris feel sick in his stomach on hearing. He watched as Harry stomped up to the desk, and as Umbridge scribbled a note out on the most disgusting shade of pink parchment that he had ever seen. "Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," she said, handing the rolled up parchment over to Harry, who then turned on his heel and left the room.

"Oh fantastic!" Chris yelled, clapping his hands in a slow, sarcastic manner. "Just fantastic, the Ministry once again fuck things up, well done to you," he called out, lazing back in his chair. Umbridge turned to face the back of the classroom, surprised by the remark.

"What was that, Mr…?" she asked, leaving a pause for Chris to fill in his name.

"Chris," he called back. "And I said that the Ministry fucked things up again, though I suppose you already know that and just get paid to hide any mistakes," he said casually. Umbridge's eyes narrowed.

"Chris what?" She asked, tactfully ignoring his comments. Name first, punishment second. That was her own method when it came to dealing with badly behaved students. There was a long pause as Chris just stared at her, saying nothing. "I shall not ask again, what is your surname?" Another pause. Chris titled his head to the side, an amused look in his eyes.

"Halliwell. Chris Halliwell," he finally answered. A gasp went around the class, accompanied by the mutters of the students brought up in wizarding families. A Halliwell, at Hogwarts. Even Umbridge seemed momentarily shocked.

"Hal…" Umbridge coughed. "Halliwell you say? Be that as it may that type of language is not necessary…"

"Oh I say it is," Chris interrupted. Umbridge blinked, shocked at being interrupted and not entirely knowing what to say. "Let's take a minute here to look at the facts shall we Toady? Now, Wonder Boy, Harry is his name, Wonder Boy tells you the truth and you give him detention. Then, on behalf of the Ministry, you lie about Tommy being back. To me, that's pretty fucked up."

"Mr Halliwell ten points from Gryffindor!" Umbridge called, seemingly have got back to her 'in charge' thinking. Chris shrugged.

"Ooh, scary, taking points off the House I don't even wanna be in. Yeah that's gonna stop me," Chris drawled, rolling his eyes. "Seriously Delores, you really paint the wizarding world in a negative light you know that?" He called over.

"Detention!" Umbridge snapped. Chris gave a dry chuckle.

"Oh joy, I get to spend time with the human toad!" He smirked. "Give me all the damn detentions you wanna, I ain't gonna show up at any of them, it just isn't my style," he informed Umbridge, looking up at the ceiling of the classroom. Umbridge bristled with fury. Never before had a child been so openly rude to her.

"Come here, Mr Halliwell," she commanded, watching as Chris sighed and slowly made his way to the front of the classroom, a knowing smirk on his face. He leant forward on to her desk. She wrote out a similar parchment to Harry's. "Take this to…"

"Professor McGonagall, yeah, heard it, memorised it, bored with it," Chris called over his shoulder, after plucking the parchment out of her hand. He turned and walked out of the classroom, pausing only to give a grand bow to his class mates when he reached the door. The door slammed shut behind him. Chris sighed. "Fina-fucking-ly. How long does it take to be kicked out of a class in this school," he mused out loud, before orbing away.

XXX

Harry was walking out of the office by the time Chris showed up (Chris having decided to first randomly orb around the school, instead of directly to McGonagall's office). Of course, Chris wasn't actually going to go in and speak to his Head of House, so instead he fell into step beside Harry. "Gotta tell ya Wonder Boy, you lack any sort of tact," he said conversationally.

"Leave it Chris, I'm really not in the mood to hear any of this," Harry said, glaring at the ground. Chris shrugged.

"Really don't care if you want to hear it or not, I'm gonna say it," Chris told him, looking around at the many portraits adoring the walls of Hogwarts. "But seriously, lack of tact," he looked Harry up and down, "lack of style. It's like you're the Boy Who Lived To Have No Sort Of Life Whatsoever," Chris finished. Harry gave an annoyed grunt, clearly still angry from his confrontation with Umbridge. "Or maybe, just maybe, it should be the Boy Who Won't Fucking Kick the Bucket," he mused, watching Harry's knuckles turn slightly white with anger. "I mean, all the death attempts. Anyone would think that you like the attention. Either that or you really are mental."

A fist was swung at Chris, colliding with his mouth. He swore loudly, and lashed out with his own fist, with Harry managing to dodge., leading Chris to aim with his other fist, this time making contact with Harry's cheek, knocking off his glasses. The fight between the two was evenly matched, neither having had great experience at fighting. Well Chris had, but that was more fighting for his life, than a simple school fight. The fists flew, the legs kicked, and Chris was thankful he had chosen not to wear the school robes as his jeans had much more movement in them. He kicked out, getting Harry on the knee which Harry returned by punching him in the stomach. So involved were both in the fight that neither noticed the angry looking flames appear beside them.

"Enough," a male voice said, causing Harry to look up. The man - Harry didn't know who he was, but noted that he was wearing a muggle style, yet expensive looking, suit so he may not have been a wizard - grabbed Chris' arm, pulling him up and out of the fight. "Chris stop it," the man commanded, holding back a Chris who was trying to get back into the fight. "You are insufferable," he said, before the flames covered both of them, and then they were gone.

Harry blinked.

XXX

Cole threw Chris into the nearest seat when they entered the Gryffindor common room. Thankfully no one was there, the entire House was down at dinner. "What the hell did you think you were doing?!" Cole snapped at Chris, glaring angrily at the boy, who glared back.

"Well I did think I was fighting but who knows? It could have been some complicated demonic mating ritual for all I know," Chris snapped back. He raised his hand to touch his lip, which had been split open in the fight and was now tender and stained with blood. "Why the hell did you stop me, I was winning."

"I was watching, no one was winning," Cole informed Chris who frowned at him. "All either of you were doing was acting like complete idiots," he continued, looking down at Chris with disappointment etched on his face. "I really expected better of you Chris."

"Cole, you may be forced to watch over me, but in no way does that give you permission to act like a father to me," Chris shot at the demon darkly. "I already have one," he reminded Cole, hatred crossing over his features with the thought of his father. Cole stopped, blinking slightly.

"Chris, I…" he started, but trailed off. He had been acting like a father, even if he hadn't really noticed at the time. It came slightly easily, which did seem to be odd as Cole had never been a father, and had never thought of Chris as anything more than an annoyance who he had promised to look after… at least he thought that most of the time. There was the odd occasion where he quite liked the annoying teenager. "I didn't mean to," he finished his sentence rather lamely. Chris turned away from him, standing up and moving over to the staircase leading up to the dorms.

"Get out of my sight Cole, I really don't want to see you right now," Chris said, walking up the stairs. Cole waited, sighing slightly, before turning and disappearing in the flames, annoyed at the set back when he was finally getting Chris to trust him, even if it was just the smallest bit.

XXX

At least an hour later Chris lay on his stomach on his bed, staring at the letter in his hand, checking it over for spelling mistakes and seeing if there was anything else he needed to add. The letter read:

'Hey Wy,

So, like I said in the last letter I sent you, I'm being forced back into school. It's called Hogwarts and it's meant to be the foremost school for magical education in Europe. Personally I think it's sorta shitty but hey what do I know? After all, I'm a deeply troubled youth….yeah I couldn't keep a straight face while writing that. But yeah, I got sorted in the goody goody House. See me jump in unrestrained joy. I wanted to be in Slytherin, but the mouldy old hat they used for sorting refused to listen to me. Damn thing. So I got stuck in Gryffindor. Ah well, they're so good in here, I'm gonna have fun annoying them

Oh yeah - you asked me to check on major threats in the school. Seriously Wy, I'm the biggest threat here. Yeah, Gandalf (Albus Dumbledore , Headmaster, crazy old bat if ever I saw one) reeks of unused power but the man is too busy believing the best in people . Obvious proof of that is his willingness to let me in. I think that it could be his downfall, though I bet he's the sort whose planned out his death, he seems it. The students could be powerful, if they were smart enough to set aside their petty differences and work together but believe me when I say that it'll never happen. So, in my humble opinion as the biggest threat this school has to offer, I say leave it. It's not worth the energy to attack it.'

It was here that Chris paused. Did he mention what he knew about their mother? His pen hovered over the letter, unsure of what to do. He sighed slightly, deciding against mentioning their mother. He could keep it a secret for now, after all he had managed to keep his demonic protector a secret for the past year. He put his pen down on the letter again

'All in all I'm bored out of my mind. Please send some entertainment. Even though Sev is here - yeah did you know he was a teacher? I didn't, why does no one tell me these things? A guy could get a complex here - he's too much of a stick in the mud to have any fun. And he can't exactly start bowing down to me in the middle of the Great Hall…though I could probably jinx him to. Nah, wouldn't be worth the time and/or effort. I might even break a sweat, which is not a great desire of mine.

Sorta miss you bro', we need to meet up soon. Though preferably not in the middle of some great fight again. As fun as it was we couldn't really catch up could we?

Oh yeah - Ministry Toad is teaching here. You know? The one who almost killed me? I'm planning on getting revenge…you in?

Miss ya,

Talk to ya soon

Chris'

Putting his pen down, Chris sighed and muttered a few choice words. The letter disappeared instantly, and Chris rolled over on his side and closed his eyes, feeling unexpectedly tired.

Well, it wasn't as though he enjoyed having to lie to his brother - even if the lies were necessary.