I'm here again humbly asking for your mercy, I seem to be doing that a lot eh? Well, as it happens I'm asking your forgiveness once again for me not updating and I will be giving you a damn good excuse too. Yes I do have a computer now so that's not it. In January I was in a pretty bad accident nearly broke my ankle and suffered a concussion. Before that I was riddled with the stomach flu and two variations of other flu strains. And as of now I'm nursing a rather annoying stomach bug. My luck really seems to have run out. Well, at least I've had time to write chapters.

Disclaimer: I do not under any circumstance own Harry Potter if I did I wouldn't be publishing this as a FANfiction. All credit to backstory is graciously given to J. K. Rowling thank you so much for creating Harry Potter. Now on with the show...

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For most people luck comes in streaks usually short unless it is of the bad variety. Wizards, however, are not most people and the luck of wizards is life long be it good or bad. Take for example Neville Longbottom a soon-to-be fifth year student at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, he has been deemed to be the most unlucky wizard in a century which is quite a feat considering his age. Most wizards though have a mix of both good and bad luck. Such as Harry Potter but again as in most cases in his life he fits this rule but also is an anomaly of it, having both the worst and best luck. The boy just won't die no matter how many times the fates try to cut his lifeline. You see when life spins out some horrible disaster for him, being bitten by a basilisk for example, his insatiable good luck kicks in and saves him, the phoenix tears. So unbeknowst to him he has nothing to really worry about on a day to day basis except the mundane things. And this day he worries of his dreams, odd dreams they are, nightmares really, and reaccuring too. Poor Mr. Potter.

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London is a wonderful city really full of swell people always willing to help foreigners when they're lost. Oh who the hell am I kidding? they all walk around like they've got sticks shoved up their arses! Think of themselves as royalty really all of them better than everyone else in the world at least that's how you'd see it if you only knew certain people, most of them situated around privet drive. But we won't be speaking of people there. No we're in downtown London where all the hustle and bustle is. People there are hard working and timely, especially at this time of the morning. There are those few exceptions though, as there are in any city, and one of them has found his prey in the form of a young, beautiful woman.

"You got a 'efty sum of money 'bout you I 'ear." He spoke in a harsh accent there was a slight tinge of alcohol on his breath.

The young woman smirked. "A hefty sum of money?" she questioned as she slid around to face him, the slight smile still present upon her lips, her blue eyes dancing in the dim light, "I fear you have been sadly mislead sir, three euros 86 cents is all I can do for you, and that won't do you much good anyway."

The man blinked slowly, "No' righ'," he mumbled, "'Ow come you know tha' by 'art?"

She snorted in a delicate manner as only a woman can and pushed a wet locke of brown hair from her face, "when you are low on money you keep count," she said simply.

"Is tha' so?" he growled. "'And it over 'ere."

The woman shrugged her shoulders and dug into her pocket producing the small collection of coins for the man to examine. He grabbed them greedily from her.

His full attention was upon the coins in his hand as he flipped each one over in examination, finally glancing at her, he spoke again, "all these coins are from France," his blood-shot eyes narrowed slightly, "you would'na been out of the country lately now would you?"

She cocked her head to the side, "well, I haven't been in country lately, so, I couldn't really tell you for certain."

"Woman, don't play games with me, I am no' a child!"

She laughed softly, "might have fooled me there, love," she said with a wink.

"I am no' a good enemy to 'ave girl!" He all but shouted his eyes flashing angrily.

"Perhaps," she began thoughtfully, "you might suggest a better enemy then." She finished with an impish smile.

The man growled and drew a gun aiming at her head, "Woman don't make me-"

"Petrificus totalus," the man stiffened and fell to the ground with a muffled thump his eyes moving frantically, she sighed as she knelt by the man, "dumber by the day really...obliviate."

She stood up about to leave and as if an afterthought added, "Finite Incantatum."

She walked slowly away from the unconscious man and mused to herself, "I don't suppose 48 galleons would have done him much good," she exited the small alleyway into the streets of muggle London, another rainy Monday.

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Harry sat inside at the table. He sat watching the rain trickle slowly down the kitchen window. He listened to the annoying drip of water falling from the leaky roof unconsciously counting each one as it fell into the bucket. Harry, to say the least, was bored. It was Monday, a grey one, and a summer storm had brewed up over night. It had broke early that morning during an improptu quidditch match, leaving all the Weasley children and Harry soaked. So as it was too wet and muddy outside the children decided that a ruckus inside would be okay. that had lasted all of five minutes when a stray ball had knocked over a table lamp. Mrs. Weasley, of course, was furious but as the lamp was quickly fixed tempers died down and it was decided that they would spend the afternoon in London.

After much preparation they were ready and anxious to go. The excited children lined up to use the floo system but Harry hung back slightly. After all the others had gone through leaving Mrs. Weasley and Harry, Harry asked to stay behind to finish up his homework. Mrs. Weasley looked dubious at first but understood the boy's need to be alone though she mad him promise to meet them in the Leaky Cauldron for lunch at one. With Harry's accepting nod and a quick smile she was off to manage the mayham that was the Weasley family. All which leads to this point, Harry sitting in the kitchen staring out the window and counting the drips from the ceiling. Boredom can make the sanest of people do the least sane things. As for Harry he sighed and wished he had someone to talk to. Had Hedwig been there, no it's best not to mention such things even after two weeks. Standing from his chair Harry walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs that were adjacent to it. He climbed past Percy's room and Fred and George's, to the room he was currently sharing with Ron. The room, which was painted an obnoxious orange color, it was even bright at night, was cozy. It was not at all like any of the rooms at the house on Privet Drive.

"Damn muggles," he growled.

It is said that anger is a coping mechanism for dealing with death and if so Harry seemed to be coping quite well. A scraping sound of something heavy being moved across the room above him caught his attention. The Weasley's poltergeist he assumed. Harry had never been in the attic, he wondered, well they had never told him he couldn't go up there. The decision made, Harry left to alleviate his boredom by ecploring the uncharted areas of the Weasley home.

The stairs to the attic creaked with their unuse, and groaned at Harry's weight, there would have been no sneaking up here had anyone been home. Harry was sure that each sound that the steps made echoed through the entire house which perhaps was on purpose given that two of the occupants of the house had a very large penchant for mischief. Yes, Harry was sure the two would have investigated the poltergeist though not lately if the dust was any indication.

"I wonder if it'll be anything like Peeves." he spoke quietly as he slowly opened the trap door. He poked his head up into the attic for a quick look around. At first Harry saw nothing aside from the vague shapes of boxes and unused furniture. Then from the right side of the room something silvery-white peeked out from behind an old crib. Slowly it moved fully into view it glowed slightly, floating over the floor towards Harry it stopped half a meter aeay from him and studied him. Harry was fascinated by this silver-something it glowed ever so softly and he felt comforted by it. Harry took another step up so that his shoulders were also above the trap door, he sloly reached out towards the poltergeist but before his fingers touched it, it jumped away from Harry.

"No, no don't go." Harry said frantically, "I'm not going to hurt you, my name is Harry Potter," he spoke carefully introducing himself.

The poltergeist glowed brightly and disappeared. Harry let out a cry of disappointment and with down trodden eyes turned to go back downstairs.

"No, no don't go." A small voice said from behind him.

Harry turned around sharply and his world went white and silent.

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The sun blazed over head as Harry trudged down the empty street, it had not rained for two weeks, his sneakers kicked up puffs of dust at every step. Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead before it could run into his already sweat-stung eyes. He paused in his walking as a small breeze ruffled his hair and he sighed not even the wind was comforting, it was as if the wind brought more heat with it just to spite him. Harry continued his walk he had somewhere to be and it was important but what it was he couldn't remember just that he had to get there. Turning aside from the barren street he entered a well-tended graveyard the grass had just been clipped and the scent filled his nostrils, he smiled. He stopped in front of two burial plots side-by-side. He kneeled carefully between them and began pulling the few dying weeds that had begun to grow from the ground. He had to keep these clean he owed them that much. They had taken care of him since his parents' death and he had been a horrible brat to them. They had helped him so much, helped him to realize how terribly weak they were. Harry stood up slowly.

"Goodbye Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia I'll see you next week maybe I'll even bring flowers." he smiled slightly and turned away lovingly patting the snake and skull tatoo on his left arm.

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Harry woke up laying on his back below the stairs to the attic beside him lay a piece of brick. Harry sat up and hissed in pain. Gingerly he felt the top of his head, a large knot had formed and he winced as his fingers touched it. He looked up and saw that the attic door was closed.

"Stupid poltergeist, stupid dreams," he grumbled standing up, "just like Peeves only more violent," He was about to make his way downstairs when he stopped.

Someone had giggled near by. Harry turned and looked around, finding no one he continued down the stairs. He didn't make it far when he again stopped. This time when he looked behind him tiny footfalls running away accompanied the giggles. Harry began to breathe faster, to say he was scared was an understatement. Hearing things that no one else does, as Hermione had said, is not a good thing in even in the wizarding world. With everyone gone from the house until later that night of course he was afraid. Harry began going downstairs again at a quick pace, in short, he ran. Arriving in the living room a little short of breath and wide-eyed he checked his watch, it was only noon, noon? Hadn't he gone to the attic at ten?

"Oh jeez I was unconscious for two hours!" he exclaimed.

A soft giggle from behind him caused him to stiffen and he slowly turned around to find that the silvery form had followed him, only it wasn't formless anymore it was a child, a little girl in fact. Harry stood in shock the poltergeist had followed him downstairs, he'd let it out of the attic, the Weasleys' were going to be so mad.

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There you are chapter three finally, now you review and I'll be happy critisism is welcomed. I hope to be updating within the next two weeks, chapter four is half way done.