In his short life Remy Lebeau had come to understand three vital points. First; Henri was crazy about Mercy, second; Belladonna was just plain crazy, and third; hospitals, even private ones, were the most horrible places on earth. Now it wasn't just the tests and the poking and prodding, it was everything. He hated the smell the vibe and even the way that the air tasted. Everything was blindingly white, to the point where he was now unsure if there was such a thing as colour, and the air reeked of disinfectant, to the point of burning his nose and throat with every breath he took.

The air felt heavy and hot, pressure ringing in his ears as if he had been engulfed by a wave, and was sinking into deep water. There weren't any windows so the only light was blinding and artificial. He hated it. Whenever the professor wanted to do another scan, he would have to wait around wearing the thin patient's scrubs, his bare feet padding upon the cool floor. Apprehension swirled in his stomach like a hurricane before and after each test, his arms were so riddled with holes he was surprised he had any blood left in his body.

Sighing, Remy shuffled his feet, curling his toes and staring at the floor from his uncomfortable position upon a plastic chair. His father and the professor were talking, he didn't know about what but he knew it was important. He hated being left out of the loop. A devilish smile sprung across his face, he surveyed the corridors of the underground medical facility and grinned. There was no one around! Running at a speed that was much faster than a normal boy his age should be able to run at, Remy bounded up the stairs, finding himself in the main mansion. He scratched the back of his head in a half hazard manner, trying to remember his way to wherever the professor's office was, when he heard a young girl's voice.

He spun around and noticed a pretty girl with bright red hair and dark green eyes, she seemed to be a year older than him (but Remy had always looked older than he was); she stared at him for a while before repeating her question. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Bonjour, Chere." He smiled winningly, desperately hoping not to get caught "I was just lookin' for de professor's office, don't suppose ya know de way?"

She blushed a furious red, for some reason, unbeknown to Remy, whenever he complimented girls or smiled at them just right they seemed to blush and be nice to him, he guessed it must just be some girl thing, they were weird like that.

"Um...yeah, just...just follow me!" her voice squeaked a little at the end, and she was still blushing the same colour as her bright hair. He followed her at a leisurely pace keeping a charming smile on his face but inside he was terrified. He wanted to know what was going on but his father had told him to wait in the medical bay, he hoped that the girl would hurry up, and that he wouldn't get caught by anyone.

"Red?" a gruff voice called "what are you doing up here?"

"Damn." He cursed under his breath.

"And who are you, punk?" the man growled, his hair was dishevelled and black, and his face was covered in stubble. He narrowed his dark eyes at the boy and surprisingly...sniffed him.

"Hey!" Remy complained "What de hell're ya doin!"

"You're that swamp boy the professor's taken in." He stated narrowing his eyes further. "What are you doing up here with Jean?"

"I was just lookin, dat's all. No harm in lookin'." He said his expression completely innocent.

"You're lyin' punk, what you doin here?" the man raised his fist threateningly, actually making Remy jump when three metal claws pushed their way out of the skin of his knuckles. "Red, you get goin', go get the professor." The small girl looked like she wanted to protest but did as she was told. "Jean's a good kid, punk, she don't need you messin' with her." Identical claws shot out of his other fist, he glared at Remy. "You just gonna stand there? Got nothin' ta say for yourself?"

Remy flipped backwards in an impressive display of gymnastics, kicking the man twice under his jaw as he did so. He turned his body in mid air and landed on his feet upon the banister of the stair case, perfectly balanced, his fists at the ready. "I say; shut de hell up!" his red eyes burning with fury, this stupid guy just pops out of nowhere and stops him finding out what his father and the professor are talking about. Just as Remy's anger began to increase, a loud cough broke the glaring match between him and the man. Remy quickly jumped down from the banister as he saw his father and the professor staring at him and the man disapprovingly.

"Remy, what de hell're ya doin? Jumpin' around in someone else's house!" his father scolded.

"He started it!" Remy protested, pouting and pointing his finger at the gruff looking man.

"Logan, may I ask why you deemed it necessary to attack a child, not to mention a child who is our guest here?"

"The Cajun was sneakin' around, and using Jean as a guide." He mumbled, not quite meeting the bald man's eyes.

"Nevertheless that is no reason to attack Remy."

Logan sighed "I gotcha, Charles." He walked away shaking his head.

"Remy, didn't I tell ya ta wait down stairs." Jean Luc scolded

Remy shuffled his bare feet. "I just wanted ta know what's goin on, dats all. Je suis désolé, Père, I didn't mean ta cause trouble, I never do! Trouble jus' seems to follow me! "

Jean-Luc laughed slightly, but his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil, how could he tell his son?
For the better part of an hour, the professor explained what Remy's 'gift' was and how it worked, or at least, how he believed that it worked. He showed Jean-Luc Remy's brain scan, and how Remy had more lobes on his brain that normal, one of these lobes was working too much, producing much more energy than normal, more than Remy could handle, resulting in the excess of energy that Remy had. The professor had told him that one way to stop it would be to remove part of the lobe, but and would require major surgery. The other way was for the professor to place a psychic block around the lobe, restricting the amount of energy that it let out, so that instead of all of it exploding out all of the time, this block would act as a tap, one that Remy could open and close by will. He sighed, and sat down beside his son, explaining everything. There were tears and frustration, but in the end Remy looked up at the man with a shinning and hopeful expression and gave his consent for the professor to enter his mind.

Remy laid back on the table in the medical bay, the professor's hands on his head, it was a terribly uncomfortable experience, and in a few placed he winced in pain, but by the end he could feel the difference. The power danced over his fingertips begging to be used, rather than flowing out of his body uncontrollably. He somehow knew how to 'charge' things as he began to mentally refer to it, by instinct alone. He practiced with a few pieces of paper, grinning happily as he could control it.

"This isn't some quick fix Remy." The professor warned "you'll need to train every day, practice all of your powers not just the 'charging' as you call it. I will visit you every month, to see how you have progressed and to help you use your powers, in the mean time, I want you to practice as often as you can, know the limits of your abilities and strive to improve your control." He stared into the boy's eyes "Can you promise me this?"

Remy smiled widely "I promise professor. Thank you!"

The professor smiled "You are very welcome."

The flight back to New Orleans was delayed by several hours. Once finally on the plane and high in the sky, Remy was sound asleep, pressed against his father's shoulders, his face so young in sleep. His reddish hair hung over his closed eyes, and his knee's cuddled to his chest. Jean Luc sighed. He can remember the ties when Remy would beg for a bedtime story, and know his boy was growing up, mixed up in magic and mutants; he couldn't help but feel guilty that he couldn't protect his youngest son. Remy slept the entire flight, and when they landed Jean-Luc simply lifted the boy into his arms and carried him to the car that was waiting for them.

The rumble of an engine and the patter of rain against glass woke Remy up; he rubbed the sleep from the red orbs, and looked around curiously. "Where's da plane?"

Jean-Luc chuckled "Ya slept the whole way, we're back home."

Remy smiled, and closed his eyes again. He did love New Orleans, it was his home. Everything about the city was like heaven to him, even its dirtiest street. He could still vaguely remember a brick house in a neighbourhood of mirror image houses, he could remember that horse-faced woman and her pigs, but those memories were like a strange dream where animals could talk and wear clothes, for surely they were more animal than man. But the city, its sights and sounds soothed his soul, in a way that he could only describe as a sense of belonging, the Cajun twang in people's accents, and the slang that seemed so odd to others, even in a different part of New Orleans. The mansion was filled with other thieves, but one part of it was reserved for the patriarch and his family only, it was like a house within a mansion. Home to him was the city of New Orleans, with its jazz clubs and restaurants, home was the smell of Cajun cooking and black coffee. His home was the thieves' guild, and nothing would change that.

As he drifted into sleep, Remy couldn't help but wonder what it would be like in France if he went to Beauxbatons. Would he still have that sense of belonging? He wondered what magic would be like to learn, and how he was going to keep normal school studies along with the magic ones. He wondered how his Tilling would go and weather he would pass and become a full thief. His mind clouded and he began to fall asleep, dreaming of magic.

The torchlight from within the headmaster's office of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry flickered a gentle orange, casting large shadows upon everything. Seated in a large throne like chair, with one hand supporting his chin, was one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, a man who appeared to be well over a hundred years old, with very long white hair, and a long white beard that was quite scraggly and could be tucked into a belt (if one were so inclined to do so). The ancient figure sat so still, that if it weren't for the fact that his eyes were flitting back and forth across a page, it would be within reason to believe him a colourfully painted statue. Amongst the mass of bric-a-brac that covered his desk sat a list of upcoming students for the new school term. There were names he recognised and new names that were obviously muggleborns, but nowhere on the list was there a Harry Potter.

It had been a gambit, he had to admit. Leaving the young boy on the doorstep of his muggle family, but he had no choice. The prophecy had clearly stated that only the equal of the dark lord could defeat him. And the only way he could ensure that the young Potter would stay that equal, and not be tainted by arrogance and his own legend, would be to have the child grow up in much the same way as Tom Riddle. Both were half bloods after all, both had dark hair and light skin, their appearances surprisingly similar, if Harry grew up similarly to tom, then he would surely understand him better, and by default, he would be able to defeat him 'as an equal'. Of course, he knew that to manipulate the child's life was something dreadful but it had to be done, he could not sacrifice the happiness of one boy over an entire nation, it was for the greater good after all. He inwardly winced, mentally slapping himself for slipping into the temptation of the old ways. The similar days with his friend-and sometimes lover- Gellert Grindelwald- when the both of them had been simple dreamers, imagining a world where everything was, by their own judgement, so much better. The two of them believed themselves gods, the power that they wielded was so intoxicating and above that of a mere average wizard that it was impossible for them to be anything other than superior! All those delusions had soon faded with the death of his sister. He realised that in his pursuit of superiority, he had forgotten that it didn't matter whether he was more powerful or not, the pursuit of power for powers sake was worthless without the need to protect something. He had begun his pursuit in hopes of being able to defend his family, but he had gotten so caught up in the rush that it gave him, and his love for his friend that he hadn't realised just how blind the power had made him. It was then that he swore to protect everyone he could from having to suffer because of his mistakes. Despite his love, he had defeated his best friend, who was imprisoned for the rest of his days; his magic suppressed, and without chance of ever being released. When tom riddle began his own pursuit of power Albus Dumbledore realised just how foolish he had been, he couldn't expect the ideals that he had Gellert had created just to disappear, and now it was thanks to him that this boy had become so immersed in the addiction to his own power and the perverse forms of dark magic, that he had lost what little grasp of sanity that he had clutched to in that orphanage. People were dying because of his childhood stupidity. He had to stop it, any way he could.

Upon hearing that one of two baby boys would be the only ones able to defeat tom, Dumbledore despaired, how would he redeem himself if these boy were the only one able to defeat the monster he had become?

Albus sighed, rubbing his eyes under his half moon spectacles "I've done it again, haven't i? My short sightedness has resulted in our doom." He could only hope that Harry Potter would be found, the boy was the only one able to stop Tom, and he would have to, even if that meant that Dumbledore would have to struggle and connive, the lives of the entire wizarding world were more important than that of one boy. He felt remorse, and guilt but overall he was determined that his own crimes would finally be accounted for, if Harry managed to defeat Voldemort, then everything would finally be over.

AN- This chapter was particularly difficult to write, I tried to come up with a logical cause for Dumbledore manipulating Harry, rather than him just being inherently evil and out to get Harry. I'm unsure about going into complete detail about every year at Beauxbatons, what do you think? Should I do each year? I know for certain that Remy will be a part of the Beauxbatons delegation when they go to Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament. Please review and let me know.

Bonjour, Chere- hello dear

Je suis désolé, Père- I'm sorry dad