Harry Potter and the Litany of Blood

By Phoenixgod2000

Ch 12—School Daze, part 2

Casting

Hermione Granger…Emma Watson Draco Malfoy…Tom Felton

Blaise Zabini…Kiera Knightly Psyche Malfoy…Dakota Fanning

Ginny Weasley…Lindsay Lohan

Second day of Class

The frozen early morning grass crunched beneath the feet of the trio as they made their way across the lawn to the edge of the Forbidden forest where Hagrid was holding his first Care of Magical Creatures class.

"There's a sign ups sheet for the dueling tournament in Great Hall." Ron said casually. "Reckon we should sign up at lunch?"

"I don't know." Hermione said ruefully. "After Defense class I don't know if I want to get hit with another stunner."

"It's not that bad. The referee puts a spell on your wand which weakens all of them and you also have on spelled pads which protect you even more." Harry grinned at Ron. "I'm signing up. There's no way I'm passing up the chance to hex Malfoy without Snape crawling down my throat."

Hermione eventually agreed to sign up after a little more persuasion from the boys. The three joined the rest of the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Hagrid hadn't shown up yet so they waited around. They didn't have to wait long.

"He didn't!" Ron gasped in sheer disbelief.

"He couldn't. The Governors would never let him. Right?" Hermione's voice was unsure of herself because the evidence was right in front of her even if she didn't want to believe it.

"He did." Harry's voice was resigned with the realization of yet another dangerous creature for class courtesy of Hagrid's skewed sense of interesting.

Hagrid was walking up the path with a thick steel chain entwined around both of his hands. The other end of the chain was a collar around the neck of a dog like creature with a mixture of coarse russet and black fir. Its body was squat and overly developed with docked ears that lay flat against its skull. Small tuffs of soot puffed with regularity from its nostrils and baleful red eyes gleamed hatefully out of deep set sockets.

Hagrid had brought a hellhound to class.

Her name was Daffodil.

Hagrid had brought a female hellhound to class and her name was Daffodil.

The class actually went by rather smoothly other than Daffodil lighting the bottom of Pansy Parkinson's robe when she got too close to it. Hagrid lectured the class on the various habits of the hellhound and they took notes. Harry was amused to notice that for once Ron was paying as much attention as Hermione in class. Apparently his summer with the dragons had given him some motivation to learn—in at least one class.

After the class Hagrid called the trio over.

"It's good to see ya." The half giant told them enthusiastically. "I 'eard ya got ta visit Charlie in Romania, Ron. 'elp out with the dragons an' all."

Ron nodded enthusiastically.

"I was wondern' if ya could talk with me first years." Hagrid said. "I never got any chance to work on a preserve and I think it could do the young 'uns good to hear about it. 'Specially from some'un their own age."

Ron was flabbergasted. "Really!"

Hermione was stunned. "Really?"

Hagrid beamed. "Really."

Ron was still beaming as the trio made their way to Charms, their second class of the day. They were nearing the classroom when they heard a massive explosion coming from Professor Flitwicks classroom. Harry glanced quickly at Ron and Hermione and as one the three raced towards the classroom with their wands drawn.

What they saw when they reached the classroom stopped them cold in their tracks. The damage done to the class was unlike anything they had ever seen—and they'd seen Neville in Potions. Every chair in the classroom was imbedded in the ceiling. They had flipped over, and their legs were stuck several inches in the stone. Desks had flown against the wall and several had cracked in half from the force of the push. Students were flung haphazardly around the room. The diminutive professor was buried beneath the stack of books he normally stood upon. Standing in the center of the room was Psyche Malfoy, looking for the entire world a student terrified of being expelled.

Her wand was held in a white knuckled death grip—and smoking.

Dumbledore soon showed up and put the class to back to rights with a fairly impressive display of cleaning charms. After sending a few students to the hospital wing the old headmaster whisked away Psyche and sent the remaining first year Ravenclaws onto their next class.

Professor Flitwick heroically tried to keep command over the class of fifth year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors but could not quiet the class long enough give anything other than the most cursory instructions. The remaining class time was chaotically spent going over the syllabus for the rest of the year and practicing previously learnt charms.

After the class was over the trio began the long trudge to the dungeons for the joys of Potions. While they walked the topic of discussion swiftly turned to the events just before their first charms class.

"I tell you she's a Malfoy. She knew exactly what she was doing!" Ron insisted.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed in exasperation. "Didn't you see the look on her face? The poor girl looked terrified. Probably thought she was going to be expelled. When Dumbledore walked in she turned pale as a ghost."

"'Mione, you met Malfoy as a little bugger. He was rotten through even as a first year. His sister's no better." Ron turned towards his other best friend. "Harry, you're with me, right?" he pleaded.

Harry looked straight ahead and didn't answer for a few seconds. Instead he began hopping from moving staircase to moving staircase making his way down the animated flights. "Did you see the look on her face, Ron?" He asked eventually in a quiet voice once the others had caught up.

"No."

"I did." Harry whispered. "I've seen that look before. I wore it my whole first year. Scared that I would never do anything right. Scared that people would suddenly see that I was a fraud, that I could never the great wizard that people expected me to be." Harry met Ron's gaze and the taller youth was frozen by the stare. "She's scared too," he continued, "Scared that everyone is going to see her the way you're seeing her. As nothing more than a Malfoy."

After that Ron had nothing to say.

The dungeon of Hogwarts filled the bill of scary underground prison perfectly. Dark, dingy, just a little bit wet. The tiniest drops of condensation could echo like thunder in those unhallowed halls. There were rooms and corridors that split from the main causeway like capillaries and none of the trio could fail to envision terrible fates for those who strayed off the main path way. Even the Slytherins had their tales of the foolish who strayed too far.

And the Potion Master of Hogwarts fit the look of head jailer perfectly. Tall and emaciated, Severus Snape had the pallor and yellow teeth of a life long dungeon dweller. His scowl could paralyze a first year at fifty paces and a seventh year at twenty.

He had preyed upon Harry Potter all of the youth's years as a student at Hogwarts. He had insulted and belittled the Boy Who-Lived openly and Harry had always accepted it. Part of it was due to his status as a teacher but more than a little was a result of Harry's fear of the embittered man.

But as Harry watched the wizard strut back and forth in front of the classroom he realized that he wasn't scared of the wizard any more. In fact he seemed more than a little pathetic to Harry as he realized for the first time how sad a figure Snape really was.

No more was he a wizard to be fearful of. He was a thing to be pitied. A creature that was truly contemptible in every way a man could be

"I've been thinking," Snape hissed. "About the poor potions marks over the past four years from the Gryffindors in this classroom. Something must be done"

He surveyed the class, straying slightly over Neville Longbottom. The young wizard shifted in his seat and Lavender patted his hand comfortingly. The teacher snorted and shook his head before resuming a frenetic pace, his midnight cloak billowing about his thin form.

"Maybe he ought to teach us properly." Ron muttered. "Instead of just picking on Neville and Harry."

Hermione hushed him and Snape gave Ron a quick glance but continued as if he weren't interrupted. "I've hit upon an idea to improve the sorry lot of your grades." He smiled sinisterly and Harry knew that whatever it was, he wouldn't like it. "I'm going to assign laboratory partners. And in the interest of interhouse cooperation I will use one person from each house." He glanced around the room daring a Gryffindor to speak against his policy. When none spoke up Snape began reading off names. He saved the trio for last.

"Hermione Granger. Gregory Goyle."

Hermione gave Goyle an appraising look. She quickly shot a despairing glance at Ron and Harry after glimpsing what passed for thought in the huge Slytherin.

"Ronald Weasley. Draco Malfoy."

Ron and Draco traded sneers.

"Harry Potter. Blaise Zabini."

Harry turned to look at the seductive Slytherin only to find her looking at him innocently. Far too innocently to be actually innocent. Harry hung his head. Couldn't he just have one normal year?

Snape smiled at the boy who lived and Harry could clearly see that the potion master knew exactly what he had done. The teacher surveyed the room and snapped, "What are you waiting for? Pair up!"

Blaise Zabini watched with a frown as Harry Potter packed up and left the dungeon classroom with speed he normally reserved for the pitch.

How was she supposed to seduce him if he wasn't going to stick around? She had traded several favors with her head of house to get him to agree to pair her up with her erstwhile intended fiancé.

It was actually quite amusing that the head of Slytherin was so amenable to bribery for all sorts of things one might need at Hogwarts. Professor Snape did a brisk business in unusual potions, contraceptives, and books of dubious repute with students of his own house and a few of the braver Ravenclaws. Ironically the only thing he refused to even consider tampering with was Potion grades. Whether it was professional pride or a streak of Gryffindorish honor, Severus Snape refused to give Slytherins any aid in his classroom that he would not give to a student of another House.

In Blaise's case, all she had to do was agree to break into her father's ingredient cabinet and give her Professor some rare elixirs of vampiric blood her father carried therein. In return she got to be Harry Potter's lab partner for the remainder of the year.

As big a risk as stealing from her father was, it was necessary for her plans to marry Harry Potter. The revelation that the competition for his affections was the part veela tri wizard champion from the previous year was surprising to say the least. She had feigned more confidence than she actually felt when she talked with Potter. Blaise was not a modest young woman and knew that she was sexy, beautiful, and talented. Not to mention half vampire, this came with its own set of benefits. She would put herself up against any normal student of Hogwarts and feel confident.

But a veela?

Why couldn't Potter have fallen for that fleshy little weaselette? But, No! He had to go and fall for a beautiful, older woman who was part supernaturally beautiful faerie. Veela didn't get fat; they didn't get pimples or blemishes. They didn't have bed hair and didn't need to put their face on in the morning. Veela were preternaturally attractive and no woman could compete against one who had their fey blood. The only thing Blaise could compete with her on was on longevity. Years were equally light on both women. The beauty of both the quarter veela and half vampire would last for centuries longer than other women could even hope to live. Despite that benefit, Blaise realized that she wouldn't have much of a chance against the platinum blond unless she stepped up her game.

Which just so happens to be what she was about to do.

"Potter!" Blaise called out. She followed the boy who lived out into the dungeon corridor.

He turned around and so did his two attached-at-the-hip-with-sticky-charms friends. Blaise grimaced inwardly. This would take some finesse.

"What Blaise?"

He sounded resigned. That wasn't good. It meant that she was starting to be seen as a nuisance. Blaise reached inward and felt for the vampire magic that flowed through her veins.

Bingo

"I just wanted to tell you that I like Potions class and I don't want my grade to suffer." Blaise said. Inwardly, once she reached the core of her magic she pushed it outward, reaching for the frozen blood Harry was wearing around his finger.

"I think your going to have a little problem with keeping up your grade with me as your partner."

Blaise pushed her magic, weaving a spell of attraction around her specifically designed for Harry. He was a necromancer; she had necromantic power roving through her veins. It was a powerful primal connection. It wasn't hard to feel his desires bubbling upwards.

Was that a blush? Hah Hah!

Blaise wove the gossamer strands of the spell, all the while trying to stay focused on the talk she was having with Harry. It wasn't a love spell. She couldn't compel his obedience or obeisance, and she didn't want it anyway.

That would make Harry boring.

All she wanted to do was feed the necromantic beast inside the boy wizard. Give herself the same edge that little veela nurse had. The spell she was weaving was going turn her into Harry's own personal vampy veela. It would be easy to make sure Harry alone noticed her increased attractiveness since he was wearing her ring within his aura. That meant she had a way to link up to him and only him, despite her lack of full strength vampire magic. Vampires possessed formidable powers of enchantment and although hers were lessened they could be brought to bear upon one person easily enough—and Harry easiest of all. Her father did this sort of thing all the time. It's what vampires did.

Sure it was cheating, but so was being a damn veela.

"Well Potter, I want an O on my OWLs this year so we're going to have to figure something out because I'm not going to sacrifice my grades for you."

Omygoddess

Something was wrong. Pleasure exploded beneath her skin so powerfully it caused pain in its wake. Energy flashed backwards along the connection through her own magical core creating a feedback loop torturous pleasure. Fire burned along her nerves. Her skin tingled from the energy she was drawing back from Harry. She felt her own desire rise up and through its haze she saw that Harry was similarly affected. Blaise fought the urge to fall to her knees in front of the boy who lived. A tiny voice inside her told her to submit, to bow to her lord…her god.

I bow to no one

"Harry? Harry, are you alright?" Granger's bushy head bobbed up and down as she surveyed her friend. She looked suspiciously at Blaise and started to lead him away.

Blaise placed a hand on the wall to steady herself. The compulsion began to dissipate with the distance between her and Harry Potter. Gathering her strength she broke the loop with Harry's magical core. Meanwhile Hermione and Ron were leading Harry away. He was stumbling like a drunk. His skin was flushed and his eyes were too bright. She could feel the heat of her own flesh radiating outward and could only assume she was similarly affected.

"Harry will talk to you later, Blaise." Hermione called back. "He's not well now. We're going to take him to the Hospital Wing."

Blaise nodded weakly. She had nearly lost herself inside his power. The necromancer within Harry was a tidal wave of power and control. It took everything she had to keep her head above its awesome commands. Still, when the trio was gone she let herself smile slightly. The plan worked—if less than perfectly.

Who needs stinking Veela charm

Not me

Harry had thought Severus Snape was the cruelest teacher at Hogwarts and the evidence of the last potions class paid truth to that belief. He was, but not the strictest.

That honor went to Professor Amanda Vector. With her prominently displayed Ravenclaw colors, large beak-like nose, and long neck, she resembled a blue pelican as she strutted back and forth through the class. Her severe features reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall without the Gryffindor teacher's underlying decency and kind heartedness.

Professor Vector had no underlying decency. It was rumored among the students who'd taken her class that she had wanted to go into private spell research but due to unnamed conflicts she had been unable to get the job she wanted. This left her teaching Arithmancy to students at Hogwarts. Hardly the life of pure research she had been envisioning for herself.

Harry was late to class because of his unscheduled trip to the hospital wing. He slid into his seat with a blush as professor Vector stopped her lecture to watch him.

"I'm sorry for being late." Harry apologized. "I was in the--."

"Mister Potter." Professor Vector interrupted. "I sincerely do not care were you were a few moments ago. What matters is you were not in my class which is where you should have been."

"I'm sorry but--"

Was this teacher another Snape? Was he ever going to catch any kind a break? Harry sank lower in his seat while the teacher spoke and every student in the class trained their gazes on him. Out of the corner of his eye saw Hermione looking at him sympathetically.

"But nothing Mister Potter. I took you into my classroom because the headmaster and your head of house assure me that you have a mind located somewhere in that head of yours. I've looked past your scores despite your less than impressive showing. Still, Professor Dumbledore tells me that you have been studying Airthmantic principles and will be able to keep up in class."

"I have been" Harry answered. Please don't ask me anything

"Then tell me Mister Potter, what are the three laws of Transfiguration?"

"Ummn…the first law is all things and qualities can be transfigured…if you know how." Harry answered slowly. Damn! He just read this recently. "The second is…is all things transfigured can be reversed. The third is…the third is…" Harry struggled to find the last one but he shook his head. "I don't remember the last one."

Professor Vector considered him with flat eyes. "The Third law is the Principle of Similarity. Like changed to like is easier than to change like to unlike." She gave him a thin lipped almost smile. "Not bad Mister Potter, not bad at all for a neophyte. I will expect better in the future, but not a bad start in the least." She glanced off to the side of Harry. "Miss Granger you will assist Harry and bring up to the level I expect of a fifth year in my class."

Hermione nodded and reached out to squeeze Harry's hand comfortingly.

Metamorphmagi are wizards with a unique ability. They possess the ability to channel their magical core through their body and transfigure it without the use of a wand. While major transformations such as switching gender or gross physical changes (adding tails, wings, gills, etc) are possible for Metamorphmagi, they do not last a long time and may not be functional if the metamorph is not exceptionally skilled and knowledgeable in the particulars of anatomy. Lesser physical changes can be held indefinitely and many Metamorphmagi turn themselves into paragons of physical strength and beauty.

There are as many internal benefits as external benefits to metamorphmagi. Their strength and stamina are frequently much greater than a wizard of similar size and shape because of the changes they can make to their musculature. Some skilled metamorphmagi can survive grievous physical injuries by shifting around their organs. They typically have perfect eyesight because they are able to fix any imperfections in their eyes with ease not possible to other wizards and Muggles. Similarly they have perfect teeth and rarely suffer from problems such as organ failure. A metamorph is capable of living three or four times longer than other wizards thanks to their increased ability to fix wear and tear on their bodies and remain youthful in appearance throughout their life.

The first known Metamorphmagus in Britain was Morganna Le Fay, a sorceress of incredible power and rumored to be an ancestor of Rowena Ravenclaw. The famed witch is believed to have used her gifts to appear as the wife of her half brother Arthur Pendragon in order to steal his seed and give herself a son of great magical and physical power.

But enough about boring history and magical biology! This is So You Might Be A Metamorphmagus! You don't want read about all the cool things that other metamorphs can do. You want to know if you are one so you can be the one to do cool things with your body. Well, the test to see if you're a metamorphmagus is an easy one. All you have to do is…

"Umm…Harry?"

Harry Potter snapped Tonk's gift shut with a suddenness that sent Neville Longbottom three feet into the air. For a moment he was filled with rage over his studies being disturbed by the chubby Gryffindor. Several spells he had never heard of drifted in front of his eyes and he knew the effects of any of them would insure that he would never be bothered again by the shy teen wizard. Forcing down the dark feelings and the insidious knowledge that it called up from the depths of the magic core he had taken from Voldemort, Harry smiled at his year mate.

"What's up, Neville?"

The chubby young man pushed a lock out of his muddy brown hair out of his eyes. He smiled weakly at Harry. "I was wondering if…uhh…"

Harry sighed. "Just say it Neville."

"You know that dueling tournament…I…umm…kinda signed up for it. And I heard that you had, you know, gotten some training over the summer with dueling and I was hoping that you...Ahh…wouldteachmeafewthings?"

Harry blinked. Then he blinked again. "You want be to teach you tournament dueling?"

Neville nodded. "Well, me and Lavender. She signed up too. Neither of us knows how to duel with rules and stuff."

"Why?"

Harry could not imagine Neville being even the slightest bit interested in dueling like that. He was too soft hearted. He should be spending his time in the greenhouse with Professor Sprout instead of dueling. Lavender was just as big a surprise. After all, if you duel there was always the chance of breaking a nail.

Neville blushed. "Lav. Malfoy made some comments to her that weren't…nice. I want the chance to beat him in the tournament and beat him bad."

Now that made sense. No way was Neville going to lie down and let Draco Malfoy badmouth his girlfriend. Even a timid Gryffindor would never do such a thing. Harry searched his face and saw resolve. The normally shy young wizard possessed steely determination—well, as steely as Neville got—and seemed resolved on learning how to duel properly.

"Alright, I'll show you what I know." Harry agreed. "Let me figure out some times we could meet once Quiddich gets started and I'll do it."

Neville smiled hugely. "You won't regret this, I swear Harry. If I get to Malfoy I'll knock him out proper."

Harry watched Neville run up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. Somehow he knew he would regret agreeing to that.

Blights of Darkness—A History of Necromancy

By Agatha Bones

Necromancers have a justifiably wicked reputation in the Wizarding World. From the times before recorded history down through the times of Babylon and Solomon, Necromancers are the holders of the force of death in the world. While any wizard can deal death through a variety of curses and spells and even Muggles can cause death with frightening ease through their weapons, no one has the intimacy with that most inescapable force that a necromancer possess dominion over. They can inflict it, heal it, and destroy it. They walk in a world of spirit and live in a world where the dead are near to the ones they love…and hate.

It is a power that no mortal man or woman can possess with impunity.

That is reflected in the inherent instability of necromancers. Their powers are dark and even the most kindly of wielders will succumb to the darkness within eventually. Some will last decades or even centuries but they all do in the end. Man was not meant to control death.

There have been efforts to stabilize the power of death lurking within necromancers for millennia. The races of Dementors and Vampires were born of failed attempts at this. To date no necromancer has ever been completely successful. And the ones that experienced partial success always paid a price for it. In the case of dementors, it was happiness and humanity. In the case of vampires, it was the loss of the flexibility of traditional wizardry and the hatred of the sun itself.

In my studies of the earliest necromancers of Egypt I came across fragments of papyrus which were the journal of a necromancer/seer named Anzac-Su-Ra. She laid down an ancient prophecy I believe speaks of a whole necromancer. By whole I mean one who possesses power over life as well as death. Such a being would be balanced and I believe not have the pressures a master of death alone would have. I was only able to translate the few words from the prophecy fragments which survived the more than three thousand years since it was made. The words were White, Veil, and Divinity.

Hermione Granger shut the book with finality that seemed to seal the fate of her best friend. The book from the restricted section was a collection of scrolls written on various obscure subjects. And it proved to be most useless. There was nothing in the tome about training or ways to stave off the corruption endemic to necromancers. There wasn't even any background information that led her to believe being trained by a vampire could even help Harry.

The whole thing just seemed so damn…random.

She tried to rub the strain out of her eyes. This didn't make any sense. Why would the headmaster even entertain the notion of marrying off Harry if the vampires couldn't train Harry? Save him? There had to be something she was missing. Dumbledore must have some plan, hadn't he? What was he playing at? More importantly what was she going to do? Could she really tell Harry that he was basically doomed unless he maybe managed to fulfill a prophecy that wasn't even complete and probably had nothing to do with him?

Hermione wanted to believe that the headmaster could save Harry. Protect him, maybe even take Voldemort's power out of him, but she didn't. Last year the triwizard tournament debacle had removed whatever beliefs she had in the headmaster's infallibility. Still, there had to be something. The headmaster would never abandon Harry. Maybe she could talk to him to see if he would tell her what he knew. She had to keep some faith in Dumbledore

Hermione sat in the silence of the library and thought. She was one of a handful of students that was allowed to stay in the library after general closing time. Most of the time she found the silence comforting, conducive to learning when the rowdiness of the Gryffindor common room got to be too much, but tonight she found the quiet to be oppressive. It mirrored the silence in her thoughts. Books had failed her. She simply didn't know what to do anymore. Harry's problems were outside her limited ability to help.

But there was still one thing she could do. She came to a decision and began to pack her bags. Harry must never know

He needed the hope that ignorance provided.

Draco Malfoy nibbled on the edge of his quill, a display of nervousness he never would have allowed himself had any been looking.

He was nervous because he was sitting at his desk about to compose a letter to his father. A letter he dreaded writing because it was about his sister. His beloved sister.

Beloved wasn't a word that Draco would have ever though he would use, even within the safe confines of his own mind. Love wasn't a Malfoy word; it was weakness that Malfoy's were to avoid at all costs. Something that should be excised whenever possible.

He didn't love his father. Respect him, yes. Admire him, yes. Love him, no. Nor did he love the woman who bore him. He had certain affection for his mother and respected her as well. He would even be willing to risk in small ways for her, but a large sacrifice, No. He had been too well bred for such cares. A Malfoy must only think of what was important for the greater glory of the bloodline, and the Wizarding world. In that order.

Which was why he was surprised that writing this letter about his youngest sister was so damn hard. As far he could remember Psyche had been the one spot of brightness in his otherwise status and Slytherin conscious existence. She had been a giggling, happy child that not even the gloomy Malfoy Manor could destroy. Draco could remember how surprised he was when his father did nothing to taper her more excitable events. His father explained to him once he got older that if he was too hard on Psyche it could affect the expression of her magic. So the youngest Malfoy was left to her own devices and experienced much less parental stifling than Draco did as a child.

Instead of creating animosity between the two of them, it actually brought them closer together. Psyche still learned the Malfoy mask, but instead of hiding her cunning, it hid her joy for life, her love of everything that her family found offensive. Draco was pleased to see his sister happy. It fanned sparks of emotion he thought were long since abandoned within his own heart.

If he wrote this letter that would all change. Their father would crush everything he loved in Psyche in order to make her more malleable. The young dragon wasn't stupid he knew that the wild magic of Psyche was a sign she would be a great wizard, perhaps even an archmage. His father would force Psyche into tortuous training designed to bring her to her full strength but destroy her soul.

Still, he was a Malfoy and his father was counting on him. Would it be better for Psyche to be in the hands of Dumbledore and his idiotic beliefs? The old man was going to destroy the Wizarding world through his coddling of mudbloods and half-bloods. With her beauty and strength, a mature Psyche could help to bring the world back on track.

The quill was a weight. A loadstone in his hand which weighed on his mind. He knew that if he did this his sister's life would never be the same. On the other hand there was the fact that she was in Ravenclaw and not Slytherin where he could keep an eye on her...

Slowly the quill began to scratch out words onto the page.

Dear Father…

Well, here it is. The latest chapter of my Opus. I hope it was worth the wait. I have two more chapters nearly finished. One will be posted tomarrow and the third will be up on thursday.

I want to thank Vekkel for his insights. He has really helped me to renew my focus on this story and he deserves a lot of credit.

So read, review, and tell what you think. I get inspired by your reviews so please help me out. You'll never know whatit means to me when I get postive feedback.

As an aside check out the following stories if you haven't already.

Black Kisses, Harry Potter and the Return to Youth,Harry Potter and the bonds of love, and Hollow. allof these on on If you like my story, check them out. and then leave a review for the author. they all deserve more than their getting. Plus if they're at all like me it helps them write faster