A/N: I can't help but cringe at the thought of how long it's been since I've updated. After falling ill I took a break for a while and now I'm finally going back into the hang of things.

In other news, it's my birthday today, and to keep with hobbit tradition I'm giving a gift to my readers in a way by updating a few of my stories here and there.

I apologize for the long wait it's been and I dearly hope everyone enjoys the latest installment.

And now…

Onwards.


Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling


Harry sighed softly before slowly opening his eyes.

Once more he was in the hospital wing.

"Can't even go a day." He snorted in slight disbelief before shaking his head in exasperation. He had been so incredibly stupid to not include himself in the shield; it was such a rookie mistake! He grimaced at how weak he must have appeared to everyone as he lay there trapped in his pathetic memories. He hoped they would all just pretend it hadn't happened at all, he was in no mood to go about explaining why he'd reacted as he had. And in all honesty, there was no way he could explain to anyone why the potion had such a strong affect on him.

He sighed softly and sat up, twitching as phantom pains shot through his system. He knew it wasn't real, that it was only his brain remembering the pain he had once felt, yet this knowledge did nothing but make him feel worse. Right now Hermione would have berated him endlessly after making such a mistake, with Ron right beside-

'But they're gone now… aren't they?'

The thought made his heart feel hollow, and hurt worse then even the pain going through his body. It was surprisingly easy how quickly he could forget that he was all alone now. Shaking his head he decided to look around the wing. It was empty, but for once Madame Pomfrey had opened a few of the windows to let in a cool breeze, he stared blankly at the white curtains swaying lazily in the breeze as the late autumn wind moved through them, seeming to be playing a game with the white material. He had never had so much time to himself whenever he was stuck in the hospital wing, usually Hermione and Ron would always be beside him waiting for him to wake up, both ready to either yell at him for once again ending up in the infirmary or Ron to give him quick looks of pity whenever Hermione wasn't watching as she ordered him to start on the homework he had missed during his stay.

He missed them.

He missed having Hermione wake him and Ron up in the morning after they had stayed up all through the night playing games with the refugees, usually with an Aguamenti; though once in a fit of rage after they had put up shields over their beds to stop her spell she had sent a horde of birds after them instead.

They'd quickly learn to just take the blast of cold water like men. Anything was preferable to being pecked at repeatedly by a pack of small birds when only in your underwear.

He missed seeing how her eyes would light up whenever she found a new spell or potion for them to work on, or the looks Ron would give her whenever she wasn't looking.

He missed them both so much…

He curled up into a ball, the blanket hiding his small form. Why hadn't he joined them? Why was he still alive while they were gone? What reason could there possibly be for him to live while they died?

Gasping softly he looked at his hand in confusion before noticing he'd cut his palm with his nails while lost in thought. He stared at the crescent shaped pools of blood curiously. He was alive, he could still feel… still dream and eat and laugh… but Hermione and Ron… they would never again be able to do so. Never again would he be able to be Harry… just Harry with them…

"Harry…"

He turned his head to the side and returned to studying the curtain.

It was sunny again; he could almost hear the students playing outside as they tossed food at the giant squid or ran around, their laughter filling the air. He could almost see them by the lake… sitting there waiting for him…

The girl laughed brightly as she threw a piece of toast at him, narrowly missing his nose.

"Oy!" He yelled in exasperation.

The lake had always been their spot, and even when later they were joined by others, that fact had never changed.

Her brown eyes glittered in amusement. "That's what you get for going all serious on me again."

He stared at her blankly before a mischievous grin lit up his face. "I'm sorry 'mione, have you confused me with my godfather again?"

"Why you!" She growled before jumping onto her feet, wand in hand and ready to hex him.

Eyes wide in fear he quickly jumped up and tried to run away from the crazed girl.

A small smile flitted across his lips.

"Get back here Harry James! You know I hate that joke!"

He yelped as a hex came to close to hitting him, turning he looked at a laughing Ron with large puppy dog eyes.

"Don't just sit there! Handle your woman!"

"What did you call me Harry!?"

Even when all seemed lost during the war, they had always helped him, always stayed by him.

Ron laughed and shook his head as yet another hex came flying his way.

"Sorry mate, you're on your own." He didn't look all that apologetic as he sat by the tree with a smug expression. "You should know better then to get all mopey with 'mione around."

He caught a movement in the corner of his eye.

He gasped in exhaustion as he finally fell to the ground. "Ok I give, I give!" He groaned and narrowed his eyes at the smirking witch. "You… I swear you were born evil"

She snorted and rolled her eyes before smiling. "But I made you stop being sad didn't I?"

He blinked owlishly at her before a large smile spread across his lips. "Yeah… yeah you did."

A red head was standing just beyond his sight, along with a young woman with bushy brown hair.

They both chuckled before lying on the ground with him.

"You know mate." Ron looked at him with a serious expression. "We'll always be here to help you when you're down… so stop trying to handle everything by yourself alright? You got us you know?"

Hermione nodded in agreement as she smiled at him. "We're here for you Harry, no matter what."

Harry blinked back tears as he smiled at his friends and grabbed their hands. "Stay with me? Even if I drive you two mad with my moods?"

They laughed.

Hermione tightened her grip on his hand. "Always Harry. You don't even have to ask."

The two were gone from his sight now. He grabbed one of his pillows and wrapped his arms around it before curling up again. Looking at his pale hands he frowned. "Then why aren't you here?" He whispered softly to the empty room.

"Why did you leave me all alone?"

There was no answer.


The minister sneered in distaste at the reporters loitering around the ministry. Ever since the disappearance and then reappearance of the Potter boy they had all been clamoring about for his attention, each of them wanting to have the honor of publishing his opinion on the matter.

It had been a matter of national crisis. After the few reforms he had been able to successfully forced through the Wizengamot, Hogwarts had been announced truly one of the safest places in all of Britain. Yet to have a child be taken from a supposed safe area, and having that child be the nation's sweetheart.

Well… it had caused quite a few complications.

Letter had been flown in non-stop from worried mothers, all of them thinking their children would also be taken. And since he had to keep a calm and gentle façade when dealing with the bumbling masses, he sadly couldn't go about yelling at them for being such blithering idiots.

The boy had always been special when it came to the public, after supposedly 'vanquishing' the dark lord some odd years ago the nation had fallen in love with the child. And thanks to his parents, even if the brat was spoiled rotten, the news couldn't twist the public to think so.

It was so sweet it could almost be vomit inducing.

Obviously he also held a small fascination with the boy, but after looking through the tests run on the boy he had been disappointed to note that the child only possessed an average amount of magic, there was nothing truly special or remarkable about him besides surviving the killing curse. Later when even his followers had told him that the boy was nothing special, only a coddled innocent, his interest had all but disappeared, though he still kept tabs on the child just in case something changed. Instead he started to devote more of his time to fixing the mess that was their ministry. By the time that he had finally won the people over, the ministry had been so corrupt that it had seemed impossible to fix everything without starting another war. Yet he was bidding his time on that front, not yet sure that a war was what he should strive for to push forward his ideals. He wanted to make Britain no longer a laughing stock in the magical communities, he wanted others to marvel at the strength of their nation, and if he had to bring about change through a war then so be it. With the tournament underway he was even more focused on his goal to improve their country then before, and because of that he had spared little attention on the Potter boy.

Until the child's catastrophic disappearance that is.

To this end he had his best Aurors on the Potter case, he was angered that someone had dared touched the boy, and wanted to make sure they paid for it. Even if the child was nothing special he was still magical and just a boy, there was no reason he could think of for someone to have set their sights on him. If they had wanted publicity they would have gone public with the kidnapping. Instead it had been done discreetly, making sure that no one knew of the boy's disappearance until it was too late.

Something about it didn't sit right with him, and somehow he was sure that this wasn't the end of the matter.

Quickly he slipped into his private office and sighed in relief at the welcomed silence. The room was charmed soundproof in order for him not to be driven insane by the incessant buzz of thousands of ministry workers seeming to yell above each other in an effort to get things done.

It was sheer madness.

Shaking his head he stared curiously at the classified folder on his desk. It seems Lucius had done what he asked for after all.

Flipping through the information inside he couldn't help but grow intrigued.

The Potter boy had been an absolute mess when they had first found him. In fear of his frail condition some specialized medi wizards and nurses had been brought into the school to help heal him, his body had been too weak to handle a portkey or the floo. Honestly he was surprised the boy was even alive after all the abuse his body had been put through. His eyes narrowed in anger as he saw the damage done to the boy's small body with the use of the dark arts. Some of the spells had been outlawed and made illegal centuries ago, and some for them were so dark and twisted that even a master of the arts would think twice before using them. They were a darker part of the art, something he himself had only seen used once during his travels in his youth. It was very rare now to see someone with the knowledge of how to perform such spells, even rarer for the persons not to go insane after such exposure to the twisted magic. At that moment it clicked, and sent a cold chill down his spine. Whoever had kidnapped the boy, whoever had gone after him did so for a reason.

They were sending out a message.

They were calling for him; calling for blood.

He scowled angrily at the document. He answered to no one and the thought that someone believed themselves to be able to gather his attention in such a pathetic way both amused and angered him.

He paused in his dark musings as he finally stared at the pictures of the Potter boy.

The first had been taken a few months before his disappearance. He had always followed the family closely just in case the son had ever decided to show even a modicum of power, though as of yet that aspect of the boy had sadly left him wanting. The boy was of a pretty sort, and was sure to have quite a few admirers of both genders; but he was far too naïve and innocent for his taste. He had been a spoiled and much loved child, and there was no hiding that from his eyes.

Yet the later picture.

Those eyes told a different story…

There was no innocence, not really. Those eyes told a story; a story that he found himself surprisingly interested in learning. They were shattered and broken, but that wasn't what caught his attention.

Those hollow green eyes, so haunting and beautiful… they were the eyes of one who had seen death; yet…

They were also the eyes of a killer.

He flipped through the documents as his attention piqued before a dark smirk flitted across his handsome aristocratic features.

The boy had been entered in the tournament for reasons as of yet unknown.

As the minister he was expected to appear and watch the champions participate for the honor of their schools.

It would be easy; much too easy to arrange a meeting with the boy, to find out what other changes had taken place since he'd last seen the child.

Chuckling darkly he watched as the boy turned away in the enchanted picture. Running a finger over the boy's featured he smirked as his murky brown eyes glinted blood red for a moment.

"Well Mr. Potter…" He drawled as he stared at those enchanting avada green eyes. "It seems our meeting is long overdue…"


A/N: Just a little taste for everyone. One more chapter after this and finally Harry will be participating in the first task of the tournament.

Does anyone know who the minister is? Your guesses are quite welcomed.

I hope everyone enjoyed this latest installment and again I apologize for such a long wait.

If you enjoyed the chapter please do leave a review?

Thank you.

Till next time.