Read A/N at the end. Long, but its fun! And because it is what all the cool kids are doing. And you and I both know you are susceptible to peer pressure. So give in. Do it. You know you want to...

-----

"Harry, Harry, its me!"

Harry looked down at her and smiled. "I know." And with that he kissed her before standing and lifting her up effortlessly and carrying her up the stairs. Harry ignored the catcalls as he lifted her and carried her "just-married" style up the stairs and into their room.

"And keep it down you two!"

-----

Chapter 14: How Quickly Things Fall Apart

-----

Under-aged Wizarding Laws are, flimsy at best. And the monitoring system is little better. In fact, they were horrid. There was one assigned to each wizard or witch that was under 17. These monitors had to work double, sometime triple duty, and therefore, worked on a 2 warning system. First time, a light lit and the person was sent an automated notice, a stamp copy of a warning, with their name printed on it.

The second, their expulsion notice.

And one that was done, the monitor was taken off of their magical signature, figuring it errant and non-existent any longer.

And having been through 2 warnings and still having his wand and his magical signature firmly under his control,

This was a factoid that Harry knew not of, but was thankful for nonetheless. All he needed was a Ministry Owl coming toward him at the time. He had his hands full.

Half cart-wheeling from another Cruciatus Curse, he slipped behind a table as cover. And as he did, he sighed loudly, tugging and eventually ripping the tie from his neck and popping the top few buttons on the shirt he wore as well.

Formal attire wasn't the best thing in the world to duel Death Eaters in.

And as he turned to his side, Tonks squatted next to him, having just set down an unconscious Zoe softly to the ground. And as they looked at each other, the Death Eaters finally pooling together the brain power needed for one of them to cast a levitation charm on the table.

Harry rolled to the side and fired a Stunner at one, and kept his roll, slipping behind a wall of an archway for cover as chunks were taken off by spells. "Damn it Heather. Damn it to hell. What have you been keeping from me. And where they hell are you."

It was a weird way to spend the starting moments of the Summer Social.

-----

It had begun the day after his birthday. At precisely midnight. The 12 strikes of the clocks signified 12 deaths. They weren't people remarkable, but that was not the point. No, the point was that they had started there, and snowballed to greater numbers.

Harry was only made aware of that a week after it had begun. He had been sitting on the couch in Zoe's house, flipping through some notebooks, making notes of musical notes, something that had come easily to him, and that J-Roc was explaining to him in detail as time went.

But the notes were mentally charged. Impulse. His mind was focused on Heather. He smirked to think of it, but she was slipping.

She had been mysterious.

She was losing her edge. She was slipping up, revealing knowledge about Harry that she shouldn't have had based on the information he had provided about himself. And all too many times he would wake to her tracing the two scars on his face, and something about it confused him.

He would look at her and catch last remnants of some kind of sadness before she kissed him on the forehead in a good-morning ritual. He smiled, but something was off.

And then slowly pieces of the puzzle began to be revealed.

It all, ironically, started where it all began.

On Privet Drive.

Heather had gone back home to get more clothes, since Harry was staying there, she wanted to as well. She also needed to tell her mom a few things, as they had only spoken over the phone as of recent times. Harry had taken a stroll an hour or so after she left, awakened by the lack of her warmth by him. And he had found himself outside of the remains of Number 4.

He sighed heavily and slowly to himself before he sank to the ground in front of the house, the weight of his whole world crashing back on him. He had pushed it away from him, becoming someone else. But he was back. And everything about him was weighing down on his shoulders.

"Hard, ain't it." Harry turned and looked to find Bobby, or Robby as his mother had called him, standing there. He had yet to talk to Heather's brother at the time, but he knew he would have to. Outside of his old childhood hell, was not his idea of timing however. But he hadn't the energy to divert the imminent talk.

Harry nodded finally, and Bobby continued. "Look Potter. A lot happened here, I know it did. And I know it is hard for you. But you have to get past that. For sake of future problems." He let this statement hang, as Harry took hold of it and allowed his mind to wrap around it. But before he could comprehend, a new speech sent him reeling. "I won't give you the 'stay away from my sister' routine, seeing as she feels safer around you than she has around me for a long time, and seeing that I have seen you mad, I doubt I could stop you. But heed this.

"Don't hurt her Potter. And don't get her hurt. Don't you dare endanger my sister with your crappy, half-ass attempts at heroics. If you are going to play fucking Mighty Mouse and save the day, do it correctly. Save everyone at all costs. Don't sit there feeling glad you scraped out with the lives of 6 people with minimal incident. Do fucking better. And if you don't, and my sister dies, I swear to you, there will be hell to pay."

Harry's mind took all of this information. But in some weird twist, one question slipped his mouth as the older boy turned to leave his companion with the last bit of information he had lectured.

"My eyes...why? How..."

Bobby scoffed at this. "That, you can thank someone you know quiet well for. Call it a gift...a gift from a man seeking to right his past mistakes. A man seeking forgiveness for carrying over a hatred from father to son. And seeking to return to the light. Freely. Openly."

And with these words, Bobby walked off, hitting a corner to turn away from Harry.

Harry sat, for the most part, completely confused. But he refused to look a gift horse in the mouth as he stood, milling the cryptic words Bobby had delivered over in his mind as he headed down the street.

And had he looked the gift horse in said mouth, he would have realized something.

One should never except a gift from Severus Snape.

Especially one that Voldemort himself had ordered done. You see, Harry might have been able to see clearly. But through his eyes,

So could Voldemort.

Or at least...that was the plan.

-----

Things fell apart around Harry. Time had passed fine, but it had come to him the week before the Social that life was turning for the worst. He and Heather's relationship was progressing at a fair speed, and had he any random urges for female attention when she was not present, it had been made clear by 3 females in the house that he was free to look up Zoe and Kirstin.

It was an odd relationship, but Harry loved it. And the name of the little group had stuck, and soon he was being teased for his Harem, as, at one random burst of hyperactivity, Zoe had laid him down and proceeded to feed him grapes. Harry smiled at his fortune, not realized the calm before the storm.

That had all begun where it would all end.

In the front room of Zoe's house.

Heather had come in after Harry, carrying an armload of her things. Harry had dissected what Bobby had said, and, thus, concluded something.

Bobby was no muggle.

And that meant...

"Harry, what's wrong?" She asked as she came in.

"Nothing" he dismissed.

"Don't lie to me."

"Heather. You have lied to me for this long. I think I deserve one little reserved feeling."

The girl looked taken aback by this, before she spoke. "Wha..."

"You have kept all of this from me Heather...all of this. You have kept so much from me when I was so trusting to you. You led me to believe that you were completely normal, completely...different from everyone I knew. And I grew to like that so much about you."

And then she grabbed him and dragged him upstairs, her clothing and his notebook left on the ground where they had been.

It was the beginning of the end. The end of perfection.

It was time for reality. Time to face the music.

-----

"What are you talking about" Heather shouted at him as she slammed the door of their room.

"You are a witch...a bloody freaking witch, and you kept it from me!" He shouted, his eyes begging her to disagree with him. And thankfully, he got just that.

"No, I am not." He let out a sigh of relief. "Not a witch. I am something else..."

Harry looked at her, anger, confusion, and sadness fighting for control. "What the hell are you talking about. Tell me. Now."

His demand fell on deaf ears. "Harry, Harry you have to trust me on this. You have to let time run its course. I beg of you, that you must trust me. I am not a witch, and I did not lie to you. I just...omitted some of the details."

The conversation was bringing back far too many memories of the past school year, and he had an urge to dismember the room, and every piece of furniture, with his bare hands. And as his eyes fell on her, narrowed as they were, he was watching her. He was begging her to move. Longing for a move that would warrant some type of blow-up from his already steaming and shaking, unstable, emotions.

And she didn't disappoint.

She moved to hug him. And that was all he needed to react. The exact way he had promised not to. He broke down. His legs collapsed under the weight of the world, and tears, angry, burning tears leaked from his eyes as he fell into a fetal position, the beautiful house of cards that was built around him had imploded upon him, and he hadn't the strength to rise from the ashes.

Heather moved to drop next to him, but his body was projecting something that told her not to come near her. His tears may have been falling, but his anger was just as prevalent, and there was some kind of scary anti-light coming from his eyes. Like, they were so dark and empty...like his soul was so dark and empty it was sucking all of the light and the life out of the room.

He was broken.

And she had dropped him.

"What have I done..."

-----

He didn't speak to her for the next week. He was silent every time she was in the room, and cold to her when they slept. He made to sleep on the floor in the room, or even on one of the couches, but at one point Heather locked the door out of the room, blocked it, and eventually forced him into the room.

She tried to talk to him, but his ears would find a way to become occupied, be it with him placing headphones on his head, him singing to himself while she spoke, or, at the worst, childish covering of the ears.

Heather was tired, ashamed, and the looks Zoe gave her every time they were around Harry didn't help. But on the Saturday after Harry had stopped talking to her, the girl had other things on her mind. She was arranging her hair on top of her head, trying to find a style she liked. And as she looked into the mirror, she was suddenly aware of another form in the room. She turned and there he was. He was standing there, fiddling with the tie he was trying to put on. His hands were shaking for some reason, and he was muttering something to himself.

That anti-light had yet to recede completely back inside of him it seemed, and Heather got very cold the closer she got to him. His eyes were dead to her. But she walked over to help him with the tie. Her hands were just nearing him, to grab his attention when he whirled around. He looked dead in her eyes and she felt a cold gust of air that froze her in place.

He shouted out, looking directly at her as her hands were out to tie the tie, "Kirstin, could you come in here and help me with this!" Heather flinched back as he did this, and Kirstin turned into the room from down the hall. She looked to the scene and headed over to Harry, tying the tie before looking at Heather with a "we need to talk" gaze before clicking from the room, the tight-fitting sapphire dress she wore sparkling as she rounded the corner.

Harry sank down to the side of the bed, his head in his hands as his legs moved to prop up against his trunk. His body shut down for some time, breathing the only sound coming from him. Heather noted that it slowed a great deal, and the cold was steadily going away. It was less prevalent and more recessive, a slight breeze in the back, far off, and no longer a cold hurricane. A hurricane of pain.

Pain she caused.

"Jimmy, get down here!" J-Roc shouted, the nickname he had given Harry the day before while the boy was drunk out of his mind seeming to not have detached so soon. Harry had told him his full name, and the drunk boy had deemed it necessary to call Harry by his middle name, as he did with several girls and guys he knew, and that was all fine and good in his mind. However, it bothered Harry.

He was not his father.

And it reminded him of something Sirius would have done with his father.

Standing, pushing his hair back away from his face, Harry seemed to give himself a shake. And with a plastered-on smile on his face, he grabbed the leather jacket he had on the bed and headed out of the door, slipping it on as he turned the corner.

Heather sighed loudly. She was tired of what was happening. She regretted it, but it had to be done. So, putting past problems aside, she applied the last of her eye-liner and then grabbed the sheer emerald shawl she had set out and wrapped it over her shoulders before heading out of the room and down the stairs.

-----

Planning things ahead is a horrible human practice. One assumes automatically that things will be exactly as they believe they will as time passes. But that is rarely the case. Which it why it was very odd that the dance planning had been made so that, Harry was to escort Heather.

And Harry wasn't one to break promises. Not one to, god forbid, lie. So, as they got to the dance hall for the Social, he held out his arm toward her. She slipped her arm through his, ignoring the slight cold as she entered.

And as they took their seats, they were preparing themselves for a fairly normal, fairly boring evening, outside of the flask J-Roc carried full of his "soda".

-----

That had been half an hour and a Death Eater raid ago.

Harry was hiding behind another table, his wand held in his hand as he thought of something to do. But as he did, he heard a scream. One he recognized.

Heather.

He had sent her outside with all of the other people, feeling that if she had some kind of magic like she apparently did, she could protect those people. And did the girl listen...no.

Turning to look, he watched as one of the Death Eaters stalked toward her, full garb and mask. After the initial scream, the girl had stopped talking and was looking at the figure silently. The Death Eater's back was to Harry, but he got up and ran, dive-tackling the Death Eater. He landed on the figure and pulled back, about to slam a hard right hand into the figure's face. But as he was about to slam his fist into the face, he looked at it.

Bobby...?

And as he hesitated, he was hit with a hard, powerful blast.

Cruciatus.

He fell on the ground, feeling the pain rack his body. And he began to see the world through a haze. A haze of pain. And what he saw awakened something it had taken him 5 minutes of deep concentration to repress. Heather was standing, kneeling by him before a similar red light hit her, the same curse that was effecting him.

And as she fell to the ground and screamed, something snapped in Harry. And even through the intense pain, another feeling hit Heather. Cold. Intense, deep, powerfully disgusting, all-consuming cold.

And Harry stood. The pain was still there. But it was fueling him. Pulling him to his feet. And he found the Death Eater who had cursed Heather. Who was holding it on her. And he ran for him, intent to stop the pain she was feeling.

Bobby would later describe what he saw as a blur of black pain running around the room. It was a moving shadow that seemed to put everyone it touched in a coma.

But soon Bobby jumped up, and Harry was back, checking on Heather. And as more Death Eaters kicked in the doors and rushed into the room, they leapt up. Tonks was across the room firing spells, and Harry and Bobby were left. Bobby was mad. Very mad. He had told them, specifically, that they could not kill anyone, and could not harm Heather.

They had.

And standing side by side, a Death Eater and the most wanted teenager in the wizarding world went through, spells firings and picking through the Death Eaters. Soon they found themselves on the stage, faced with only a few left.

And suddenly Harry was aware of a dark form near Heather. He knew the body shape, and he knew what was happening. He knew who it was. Through the haze of anti-lighting and the darkness he was in, he could see almost through the person to their soul. And he knew who it was.

He jumped from the stage and over the last 3 Death Eaters and slid across the floor. He ran and grabbed the Death Eater by the shoulder and through him back. The Death Eater flew to the side and hit his back on the wall a good 3 feet up, and slid down. And Harry's eyes fell on him.

Tim.

Harry started kicking the boy in the head and the body again and again and again. He just kept stomping on him until he was dragged off by Bobby. And Bobby was soon dispatched by a shrug and Harry was back to stomping. However, he missed the wand, as Tim cast a banishing charm. Harry flew back and hit his head with a thump, and a thick strip of blood was made on the wall leading from it to his head.

And the last thoughts going through his head were, I am going to kick his sorry, punk a...

-----

Harry awoke in the front entryway of Zoe's house, to find Tonks sitting next to him. She was looking at a letter in her hands, reading it over. She looked to Harry, smiling softly at him. And then she spoke. "Harry, I hate to do this. And I know you do not want to hear it or do it. But after this, you have to."

Harry looked to her.

"You are going to the Burrow."

-----

Harry was soon at the Burrow, standing before it with his trunk and Hedwig perched on his shoulder. He hadn't even been given a moment to say good-bye to Heather. And he didn't know if he would have even it he had the chance. Instead, he walked forward, the trunk hefted up with both hands as he headed to the door. Knocking on it, the door was flung open and Molly Weasley stood there. She reached up to hug him.

And as she did, her hand came back with his blood on it. Tonks apparently hadn't healed him, something that wasn't bothering him as much as one would think. She sighed and told him to sit on one of the couches. He entered and sat down on the couch, and as soon as he did, laying his head back gently and closing his eyes, he heard a mass number of feet slamming into the steps as a number of people ran down the stairs.

Harry looked up to see Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Molly all eying him. He looked to them all before closing his eyes again, fighting back a groan and a sigh, contenting himself on trying to sleep.

But thus, it was not to be so. His drifting thoughts were of the world all around him, and as that world drifted, a new one came.

-----

Anti-Light. Not darkness, but as opposing to both forces as possible. Darkness if the lack of light. This...this was as far from light as possible.

It was an empty black-hole.

And it was sucking at Harry's soul. It was pulling it from him as much as possible. It was yanking, clawing, itching for his soul. And as Harry opened his eyes from the screaming of his inner dream, expecting to find Dementors, he found something different altogether.

He stood there. He was a tall, muscular figure with very long, sweeping black hair. He had many scars on his upper body, which was exposed. There was one that went across his jawbone, and another that slashed across his eye. He had his back to Harry, his head turned just slightly, and as his hair swished and swayed in an untouchably non-existent wind, his back showed more scars, and there was one that went all the way up his spinal column.

As Harry marveled at this, the figure looked directly into Harry's eyes. His eyes were almost a deep black, but were in fact, a hunter green coloring. And as he looked to Harry, Harry felt something very odd. Something unnerving. The feeling one gets when looking into a mirror.

"Hello Harry." Harry looked at the figure, wondering who it was and why they were in his dreams. As if understanding this, he spoke. "I...You know who I am. I am Necros Slytherin. But you may know me more as something else."

"And that is?" Harry asked, growing impatient of the game when the man was quiet for a good time.

He smirked at Harry's impatience. "I am part of you. More, I am part of your soul. You may know me from that legend your professor spoke of. I usually went by...Nox Eternal." Harry looked at the man like he had just told the boy he was the soul of a sword...

Oh, he had.

"And...why are you here?"

"I am here, young one, to assure both our survivals. I am here to make sure that, should the shit truly "hits the fan" as I have heard said, you will be ready. And able to harness all of the power I am giving you by being attached to you. And for you to learn the inner-workings of your own personal skills. I am here to ensure that we work together, the best way possible."

Harry was silent. "So what, are you going to train me? Train me in my dreams somehow? Because that seems so...lame." The man smiled at this, showing shining white teeth and a set of canines that looked odd. And though not abnormal in size or shape, they were oddly...scary-looking.

"Of course not." And with those words the man walked toward Harry. "But you are going to have to trust me." Harry nodded in understanding, and the man seemed to ghost away, becoming less solid-looking, and more transparent as he neared Harry. And He seemed to slip into Harry, which is where the boy assumed he was anyways, before Harry felt a jolt, and the dream world rounded the drain before slipping in, leaving Harry in the foyer of the Burrow, laying on the ground next to the couch he had been asleep on. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, and he sighed, standing and kicking the couch once before making to head upstairs.

And it would have been easy to do and not wake Ginny, who was sleeping on the couch across from him, had he not ended up doing something that shouldn't have been possible at the time.

He kicked a whole into the couch. He stood there, staring at the large hole in the wooden frame of the couch. He soon heard groaning as Ginny awakened, and he turned and ran up the stairs, finding Ron's room and slipping in.

-----

Harry found Ron sitting up reading a magazine. He looked to his friend, who tried to hide it. Harry shook his head and asked. "What are you doing Ron?"

The boy blushed before pulling out the issue of Wizard's Weekly he had been reading through. Harry raised an eyebrow before the boy clarified. "An article in here. It tells how to, non-magically, get the girl you like to like you back." Once more Harry raised his eyebrow.

"And who is the girl, Ron?" Harry asked.

Ron swallowed audibly before sighing. "Hermione."

Harry's mind kicked in. Now that was completely unexpected. I mean, I could see how and why, but I can also see that...Damn, I almost feel bad for him. Hermione doesn't like him like that, and it is seriously going to be hard when she has to tell him...

Harry's thoughts trailed off as he sighed and headed over to the lights. "Let's head to sleep. We can figure that out in the morning." The redhead nodded and headed to the bed, Harry taking the one he usually took. However, soon Ron asked to switch beds. The redhead had been sleeping in the other one secretly, wanting to be away from the door, as the air coming in from other was cold and bothered his slight allergies. Harry nodded, switching beds with him and then settling in to go to sleep.

He had no idea how this switch would effect the group of teenagers at the Burrow for all the rest of the summer.

For, sometime after both boys were deep asleep, the door slipped open. A small, lithe redheaded girl crept. She looked and saw the bed she figured Harry was in.

"Look at his short, messy hair. I always loved it like that." She thought to herself. And then she looked to where her brother was supposedly sleeping. "I didn't know his hair was getting that long. Going to have to sneak up on him with some scissors before Mum does. Don't want it all gone, just...presentable." And with these thoughts Ginny headed over to the bed she assumed Harry was in. She pulled back the covers, wondering why Ron would let Harry borrow his favorite pajamas, before slipping in and pulling the covers up again. She sighed, having wanted to feel warmth of another body against her.

-----

The next morning Harry awoke to the sun just peaking up over the horizon. He stood from his bed and headed to get his things together to run, slipping on some sweats, his pullover and some trainers. However, before he left he went over to check on Ron and make sure the boy was not awakened when Harry bumped into his own trunk on accident.

And what he saw scared him, confused him, worried him and made him want to burst out laughing then and there. As he watched the spectacle, Hermione slipped in through the door, heading to do something or another it the room it seemed. She came up next to him and gasped at the sight.

Ron and Ginny Weasley were in bed together...

Spooning.

Ron stirred at the girl's gasp, and as he sighed and scooted closer to the warm, female body against him, he opened his eyes slightly. And when his eyes did not come into contact with a hint of mahogany hair, they flew wide open. And his vision was assaulted with a mass of red hair in front of him that was not his own.

And he looked up to see Harry and Hermione looking, Harry looking confused, and Hermione between disgusted and hurt. Ron jumped up, which succeeded in waking up Ginny. "What Harry...its too early." She moaned in her sleep, something that, should someone have been watching, brought a flash of indignation to Hermione's face.

And Ron was watching.

And as Ginny got up and saw her brother, and then the two spectators, she jumped and then scrambled from the room, blushing furiously. And after a few seconds of quiet, Harry spoke. "Uh...what just happened there? Am I dreaming? Because if I am, this is not a pleasant dream."

"Yes. Much more like a nightmare." Hermione continued.

"A hilarious nightmare, of course. I am probably laughing my bloody head off in my sleep..."

"Shut it Harry. Shut it now!" Ron shouted. Harry looked taken aback. Ron clarified. "Didn't you see Harry. All of these girls love you. Those girls back at Privet, the muggles, they love you. My sister wants you. And now you have Hermione under your wing too! You have Hermione pining for you too. Am I left with nothing?"

Harry held up his hands defensively. "Whoa there. Slow down and put it into reverse. What are you talking about?" Harry looked to Hermione. "And she doesn't like me like that. Trust me. I know."

"Yeah. Harry is nothing more than a brother to me." Hermione verified.

Ron's eyes brightened at this. And he immediately made his move. "So Hermione, if that is the case, how about you and I do something..." He didn't even get to finish.

"I can't Ron. I am...sort of...seeing someone right now." Ron's face fell.

"Is it Krum?" Hermione shook her head. The boy made a few more random guesses, centering around Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff house. And then he made one more inquiry on the identity. "Is it Malfoy?"

Harry and Hermione made faces at this. Ron looked apologetic for his lack of tact. And then made another attempt. "Is it someone I know." Hermione nodded, worriedly. "Damn it. I am tired of guessing. Who is it Hermione?" Ron more demanded that asked.

Hermione looked very wary. Harry patted her on the back, and Hermione finally explained. "Ron, if I tell you this, you can not get mad." Ron nodded. "Promise Me."

Ron looked like he was edgy about that, but nodded. "I am sure as long as it isn't a Slytherin, or Krum, I will be fine."

"I doubt it." Hermione said. And she took a deep breath before saying it finally. "Ron, since May, I have been...seeing..."

And here she muttered. Ron growled. "Come on, who is it then."

"I have been seeing...Ginny."

-----

A/N: And I hate you all, so I shall end it there. insert evil laugh. No, but I love you all, but these cliffies make me want to write more faster so I can know what is going to happen too. So there. There is a reason.

I almost had some people fooled, thinking there was clear shot for Hr/R in this fic with Harry caught up with Heather. People almost thought they had the ships figured out. Never assume you know what I am doing. If I don't, how can you!?!

--RANT AHEAD! Important, so read anyways, k? ok, good--

But here you go, good luck, and if you wanna review, feel free. Oh, and something to remind people. READ! Don't put certain stories on alert and then go off, not reading anything but those. It kills the number of reviews new stories get, and makes people miss great stories. I love to read when I can, and it is a great service top read someone's work and an even better one, to review. That is great, but flaming...that must end. Don't like, don't talk. I found a message board calling Heather a Sue. Think so now? But thank you whoever started it, I think your name was Kristin. I mean, the analysis you put into putting me down made me happy. You had to have paid attention and spent a great deal of time doing that, more time that most people spend leaving a regular review, so, thanks. Now you made me want to add a few more words to that "69,000 words of nonsense."

Going for an ever 300,000, maybe more. Wish me luck baby! Hope you like the nonsense. And I hope how you liked how my one comment shut down your whole board. STILL THINK HEATHER'S A SUE? If you do, you need a psyche analysis. There is no such think as a Sue in an HP fic when HARRY CAN KICK PEOPLE'S ASSES LIKE HE DOES. And besides, having a Sue or Stu is very difficult. Difficult in, if Harry seems all powerful and people call him a Stu, and then you have someone kick his ass, then they are a Stu and Harry is being pushed back and made to be less powerful and not the main character. It's a vicious cycle, with no clear balance of power...

There are so many people in HP more powerful than Harry. Come on now people, think for a moment! Is Dumbledore a Stu? Because with the things I am hearing about my characters, everyone in HP stronger than Harry himself therefore classifies as either a Sue/Stu, and thereby making half the series "unbelievable" and "crappy". But its not!

Bottom line: Don't flame. Flamers are uncreative people who get their jollies from bringing other people down. You don't need talent as a writer or mental capacity at all to do a shitty flame like: "Dis sux!" as I have seen. It takes a smart, Language-Literate person to be able to write a constructive critique, and if you can't do that and you know it, just sit in a corner with a dunce hat on and suck your thumb. And when you are done, sit on it you sorry, sorry bastards.

From here on, Flames will be donated to the Help TK Get His Fire Back Foundation.

Thank you, and that is all.

Puts back on Happy TK Lee face again

To those great reviewers who I love so much and have gotten me this far, I love you all. These next few chapters are the start of the hardcore storyline, and lemme know how you feel about storyline changes and such. Feel free to contact me at any time to discuss if you like, as you come first before anything else. The readers come before even myself right now, only second to the writing. So, wish me luck as a dodge summer school and slip time to write between supposed "make-up assignments", something I should be doing now.

I got a 2 day break from hell, before I was right back in there. I got 2 days of summer break, then they tried to send me to summer school.

Nope. I ain't goin'!

Peacers, TK

...no more sugar at 3 am...

And everyone! Go Buy the new Beastie Boys' Album "To the 5 Boroughs". I shall buy it today (6/22) and I want them going Platinum so they can get all that Bling Bling shiza and so on and so forth. :-D, but I love the songs, its great anger, writing music for me. Them, Linkin Park, D12...maybe I will do TK's Writing Soundtrack. Lemm know.

As 'Tae says, Peace, Love and Hairgrease

And I'm outtie 5000

(6/23) I got the CD, and I have been listening to it. I love it, it is funny as hell, and Its cool. All 3 of them are sick as hell, and I think that the whole CD is great. I love track 5: Rhyme the Rhyme Well, track 6: Triple Trouble and, as always, track 1: Ch-Check It Out, which you all should!

Soon!

Like...Now!