Chapter 11:
The Forgotten Findings
By: Chronos the Fallen Angel
Author's Note: "Some things are meant to be forgotten, others should never be," Chronos the Fallen Angel
I have finished another chapter. God this is long, and it's going to take longer. Anyway, like I mentioned in the previous chapter, I will try to remain true to OoP but I will have a few things remain the same. Sirius did die as he did in OoP, but I will explain that, Hermione goes out with Ron then Steven in this AU. But everything else will remain the same, I think. I'm not making any promises.
One more thing, there is another story, written by alphabet-psycho, I can't remember what its name is but it's a great story. So please read and review it. Okay, I think that is enough, so on with this chapter.
Blue Phoenix: Fuck off, I happen to know that the first chapter sucks, so thanks for rubbing it in. and you can't judge the entire story on one chapter. There is more to the story then that. But granted you did have some good suggestions and I am trying to follow them. But you need to read more then the first chapter to understand the story. Read it all and review each chapter, that way you have more to rip about my story. Thank you.
Sorry, I would have this up sooner, but damn site wasn't working.
Again, anything created by J.K. Rowling is hers, DC theirs, and Marvel theirs.
* * * * * *
"I told you, Harry," Hermione said as she was packing, "we'll figure it out when we get there." Harry lifted his suitcase onto the bed and sighed. Two weeks had already pasted, Roland had recovered from his episode, and was nice again. Harry and Hermione were working on their new weapons whenever they could, Roland felt that it would be unfortunate if Hermione was caught in a hand-to-hand combat situation, but did nothing to fix the problem, leaving it on Harry's shoulders. So Harry gave her a simply dagger. She was so excited when she found out he had transfigured it from a rose. He was out in the garden with his wand. Hermione was on the other side of the school, swimming with Jean, Kitty and Heather and some other girls who had returned early from their summer break.
It was peaceful and quite, and Harry was just thinking. He had wanted to play basketball with Scott or Logan, or somebody, but everyone seemed busy. He had wanted to talk to Roland but he was off on some business trip as Hank had put it. So he found his way out into the greenhouse and gardens. It was one of his usually trips, one that he just thought about what was going to happen once they got back to Hogwarts. About Hermione and him. But Harry noticed something unique on this walk; a single white rose was growing along with all the red ones in the green house. He decided to pick it and give it to his girlfriend. But his thoughts somehow returned to protecting her and Roland's words: "she's good with that bow, but in hand- to-hand combat, you're a sitting duck. You need something to protect you."
Hermione refused anymore gifts, either because Roland had already given so much or that she was afraid of his gifts now. It didn't matter anyways; she just didn't take it and that worried Harry. He cared for Hermione more then the world itself, and to even think that she couldn't protect herself was hard on him. The rose glowed a bright white color and was suddenly a single dagger in his palm. Harry smiled, /wandless magic,/ he thought, /Hermione will be happy./ he kept his smile all as he walked all the way back to his room, and even after he gave Hermione the dagger.
He had another reason to be happy. Roland was right in saying that Harry would be able to play the guitar in two weeks. In fact it was less then that, after a week, Harry was playing the guitar. He sang to Hermione sometimes, often she would sit in hid lap, his arms wrapped around her and the guitar and he played. Harry played and sang soft lullabies to his girlfriend. Hermione always smiled and kissed Harry after the song was over; she refused to go to sleep unless he played a song for her. And for some odd reason, he never ran out of songs for her. Hermione was so soft and sweet, Harry loved everything about her, every detail, every flaw, (he never saw any flaw); he couldn't help himself but to make her happy. And he had many things to be happy with her about.
Hermione had finally gotten over what had happened to her; the professor made them go through a training simulation the in the end involved a man that looked just like Steven. And she had to defeat him all by her self. Harry could only stay on the side-line and help her if she really needed it. As much as he wanted to help, Harry didn't because he knew that it would help out Hermione. For a while, he was worried because Hermione was on the defense a lot, refusing to fight. He knew that she was terrified of the man. But in the end, Hermione defeated him, using her 'hard air' attack. For a while, the man didn't get up after the last attack Hermione made. She walked over to him just as the holographic images were dropped, revealing a room affectionately called the 'danger room' and the man who was portraying Steven. Harry quickly caught up to her, a smile on both their faces as she faces her fears and won.
Roland lay against the wall, where the image of Steven once was. Hermione gasped at the sight she saw, but he quickly told her to think nothing of it. He just wanted to help and that was his way of helping. She smiled again, and he returned the smile. Harry just stared at he cousins. Roland was often pushing his limits and that day was no different; he was off somewhere, 'working' as the professor called it, and when he came back, Roland could barely walk. But he still did that. And Hermione always reprimanded him for it. But Harry never said a thing, he knew that Roland could take care of himself, but he also knew that he was smart enough to ask for help when it was truly needed. Though he never did.
/But enough with the past,/ Harry thought, /we're heading back to London and the wizarding world./ a smile came on his face as he stood back to finish packing. "Harry, could you hand me our toothpaste and brushes?" Hermione asked, looking back at him.
"Sure thing," Harry walked into the bathroom to grab the bag that they had filled with all their bathroom items. It had more then toothpaste and brushes as his girlfriend had begun to use make-up; not much but enough to highlight the already beautiful face that Hermione had. She had changed so much since he had first meet her. Hermione had grown into a beautiful woman; her hair had straightened out, she had gain more curves (in the right spots, Harry laughed), and was a bit taller, not much though.
Harry had changed too, as he looked in the mirror. His shoulders had broadened, as had his chest. He had gained muscles, looking slightly bigger then last year. Harry was also taller, he hadn't grown much, but sufficient, leveling out at six even. But his hair refused to change, still as wild and curly as ever. "I wish I could change it," he said, trying to comb it as he looked into the mirror.
"Ahh, but I like it that way, Harry," Hermione had come up behind him and slipped under his arms, she that she was in front of him. A smile was on her face as she was looking up at Harry, not in the mirror.
"Okay, I won't change it," he replied. Harry put the comb down and wrapped his arms around Hermione. "I'd do anything to make you happy, 'Mione."
"And I'd do anything to make you happy," she said and stood on her toes to kiss him. "I just wish I was a bit taller."
"You know what I see when I look in that mirror," Harry asked.
"No, what?"
He pulled away, leaving Hermione in the center of the mirror. "The world's most beautiful, smartest, sexiest-"
"Harry!"
"Perfect girl, one that I wouldn't trade for anything."
"Anything?" Hermione turned and looked at Harry. A look of doubt and confusion was on her face.
"Anything, 'Mione, I love you," Harry said, and quickly hugged Hermione. He could hear her sobs, and wished that they'd stop, but knew better. She was happy with him. Despite all that he had done for her, Hermione cried sometimes. All that training and all the therapy as Roland called it; helped but didn't fix the problem. But he also learned that she wouldn't have gotten as far as she has without his help. "Don't let anyone tell you the difference." Harry didn't know way he said that, but felt that it would matter some time later.
"Thank you Harry," Hermione replied, she had buried her head in his chest, and Harry's arms were wrapped around her shoulders. "You always knew what to say."
"Nah," Harry smiled as she looked up, "I just know what is the truth." A lone tear slid down her face, and Harry wiped it off. What little make-up she had one was smearing from her other tears, so Harry just wiped it off. "You know you look beautiful without the make-up."
"I know," Hermione smiled as she released Harry and looked in the mirror. She pulled out a little thing of make-up and fixed her blush. "I think that I look better with it."
"Whatever, 'Mione," Harry said, "what makes you happy." He walked over to her and kissed her head. "c'mon, let's finish packing." Hermione walked past him and out the bathroom door and Harry followed, a smile still on their faces.
"Please do," Roland was seated on the bed, his cowboy hat hiding his hair, and his sunglasses, as always, hiding his eyes. He had his legs crossed and so were his arms. But a small smile was on his face. "I've got to cast a shrinking spell on them, our plane leaves in-" he pulled out a watch from his coat, "five hours; I want to be early so I can raid the stores."
"Explain to me again why can't Harry cast the spells, it would save us time," Hermione asked.
"I've wards placed all around the school and grounds, protecting it from magic users and the such. Most wizards can't use their magic the wards are so powerful. I found that I could, but I doubt that it is because I casted them. So, hurry up, our limo is waiting."
"We're taking a limo?" Harry replied. Harry pulled the rest of his cloths out of the closest.
"Yeah," Roland said, "my boss is paying for the tickets and the limo."
"Does he know about-" Hermione started, as she was finishing placing all her books in one the trunks Roland summoned.
"Magic, yeah," Harry and Hermione stopped what they were doing to stare at Roland. "Don't worry, he can be trusted."
"How do you know that?
"Because I asked him," Roland said, "my boss has ways of finding out, so if I didn't tell, he'd know anyways." The smile pasted from h is face. "He's helped me out more than you can imagine, I owed him so much for saving me, it was the least I could do."
"Is he the reason why you have that arm and eye?" Hermione closed the trunk and took a seat on it. Roland just nodded. "I see why he respect is important to you. You think you owe him a lot."
"More then you know," Roland muttered under his breathe, soft enough so Hermione didn't hear it but Harry caught it as he grabbed the last of his cloths from the closest.
"But telling that information isn't a way of gaining respect," Hermione said. "He could use that information against you."
"And what slander my name?" Roland replied. "Sorry to tell you, but the name 'Roland Childe' doesn't carry the weight it used to in the Muggle world. So it would be pointless to hurt your best inventor because of personal issues. Besides, Mr. Wayne isn't like that, he's my friend."
"Is his name Bruce?" Harry eyeballed her.
"Yeah, playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne. I told you, he saved my life. I would've died had he not paid for my operations. In return, I gave him the patent for my inventions and now I work for him, creating whatever I can, and gathering information on the magical." He smacked his forehead. "I shouldn't have said that."
"Sounds like something Hagrid would say," Harry remarked as he picked up the last of the trunks and carried it over to where Hermione was sitting.
"Forget about it, you won't find any more info on it." Roland stood up and walked over to the trunks. "Have you put aside the bags for your cloths and carry-ons?"
"Yeah," Harry replied, he pointed to four bags all the way in the corner. His guitar was right next to it along with a small trunk filled with things that Hermione and he would need until they returned to Hogwarts. "I've placed everything that we'd need for two weeks, like you said."
"And how bout Hedwig and Crookshanks?"
"They're set for the trip too. Hermione gave Crookshanks a pill that calmed him down, so he won't awake til we get to London."
"Good," Roland looked back at the bags, staring at them for a moment. When he turned back to the other trunks, a black wand appeared in his right hand. Without a single word, he waved the wand over the trunks and they quickly shrunk. "There you go, place them in a safe place; you don't want these trunks smashed." Roland picked them up and handed it to Hermione. "I'll be downstairs with Heather, loading our stuff, so come down when you're ready." He walked out, his coat dancing in the breeze made by his swift movements. All the was left was Crookshanks and Hedwig, both were peacefully sleeping in their cages.
"Ready?" Harry asked Hermione, taking her hands in his.
"Yeah, I'm ready," she replied. "As long as you don't leave me." Hermione moved closer to him and laid her head against his chest.
"As long as this heart beats, I won't. I will protect you, my love."
Hermione moved up to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Harry pulled Hermione closer, his arms around her waist. Son their lips were locked and both refused to let go of each other. When they released each- other, a large smile was shown and their faces.
* * * * * *
Roland sat on the bumper of the car, waiting for his friends to show up. Jean came walking down the stairs that lead up to the mansion. "Listen, Roland," she said, "I've a favor I need you to do."
"Really, what?" Roland was staring at the ground; he had been pushed to the point of exhaustion lately and was standing over the line of tired and dead. But he rarely refused a favor. It was how he got as far as he did.
"I want you to-" she started.
"Look after Harry and Hermione?" He interrupted. "You're the third person to ask me today." He stood up and walked over to the front of the car. "Don't worry about, I've it under control."
"No, it's not that," she said, "I'm worried about Logan, he's more distant then he was before. He's been hiding in his room, doing god knows what." Jean sighed. "I just want to know what's bothering him."
"Don't worry about him, Jean," Roland replied, "he's always like that this time of year." He placed an arm around her shoulders, a friendly gesture. "Don't ask me why, he just does." /that's a damn lie and you know it./
"I don't believe you." Jean said. "Tell me, Roland." she looked up at his with her emerald green eyes. Roland stared at her for a moment, and fixed his glasses with his other hand. All his thoughts raced. /those eyes are familiar, but from the picture I've seen before, they were never this bright. Much like./ he drifted off in thought.
He sighed and released his friend. Roland rubbed the back of his head thinking. "I wish I could, gods know, but I can't, Jean. I promised." She turned away, and he felt awful. "Jean, you have no idea what happened to him."
"And you do?" she snapped, upset for a strange reason. Roland felt that even she surprised at her statement.
"Yes, but I promise I made when I first got here prevents me from telling anyone. Including Logan." Roland turned away, upset at himself for saying that. /Stupid, now she'll figure it out./ a voice said in his mind.
/No, she won't,/ Roland thought back, /she doesn't know all of it./
"What do you mean?"
Roland sighed again and took a seat on the hood of the limo. "Like I said, I found out when I first got here. My mutant powers for straddling the line between controllable and uncontrollable. God, has it been that long."
{Author's note: I'm sorry but Logan's memories are important to the story believe me. As I said before this is not a fic about Roland centered in Harry's world, this is about Harry and Hermione. There is a lot of foreshadowing in the section, so read it carefully.}
~~Flashback~~
Roland entered the mansion, his mind racing. /why the hell am I here?/ he thought, /I should be doing my job./ His long black trench coat and hat hid his appearance, which was a horror for people to see. For the past year, he had learned so much about his world. About his history, about the horror of it. And in a single night, he promised to change it. But that hadn't stopped what happened to him.
Roland growled in anger and swung his metallic hand, smashing one of the vases next to the doorway. "Oh dear," an African-American woman said, her white hair bouncing behind as she came down the stairs. . He quickly scanned her, seeing if what he had learned to hate was in her too. But a sigh of relief came when it wasn't. Roland felt that this woman was trustworthy, despite his general distrust of the world. And he had the last year to thank for that. "That was one of my favorite."
"It was a fake," Roland replied, looking down at it, "one that was cleverly designed to look like the original. It had no value." His voice was mechanical, one that he had trained to show no emotion, a quality that helped in his job. A smile crossed his face.
"Are you happy that you did that?" the woman asked, clearly upset with Roland.
"No, just that no one was there," Roland said. /damned people,/ he thought, /they care so much about their manners./
"You're Roland Childe right," he nodded, "Please follow me. You can bring you trunk and bag if you wish." Roland picked up his trunk in his left hand, it felt like the circuits were going to be pulled out of it, but luckily the arm remained attached to him. He had drained most of his energy earlier that day, doing his job. /damned job, but no one else can do it./ he followed the woman down a long hallway, the walls had painting on the them and in his mind, Roland was checking off which ones were replicas and which ones were real. /this professor must be rich,/ Roland was thinking, /even though these are all originals, they're still good copies./
"You can remove your coat and hat with you want." The African-American woman looked back at him. "And your sunglasses."
Roland smiled; he'd worn them so often that he had forgotten that they were event there. "I'd prefer not to," he replied. Roland's eyes never got better, even when he transformed, he kept the sunglasses on. Being who he was, any kind of light bothered his eyes.
"I'm sorry that we didn't meet you," the woman continued, "I'm afraid that we didn't know when you were coming. Mr. Wayne called and said that you would be here around four and when you didn't show up, we'd thought-"
"I got caught in traffic," he said.
"For two hours." Roland didn't say a word, they had reached the end of the hallway and the woman opened the doors. Roland stopped just short of the door way, he was able to see the entire room from there. He had wanted to be carefully, in his line of business, he couldn't be careless. With his mechanical eye, Roland scanned the room, searching for the single energy presence that was the only reason he ever feared. But with a sigh of relief, he didn't find it. And so Roland walked in to the dinning room.
Eyeballing everyone in the room, his hollow eyes rested on a single man, everyone was as he expected from the data files he hacked into. Professor Xavier was the crippled man who gave off a wise presence. Scott Summers was the leader of the group, as he could tell that others looked up to him. Kurt Wagner was the religious man, Roland smiled. /I'll have some interesting conversations with that man./
The woman that he had met in the main hall was Ororo Munroe. She was calm and collected, from what he read in the data files, this woman could control the weather. /I have a few things to teach her then./
Roland's eyes fell on the man sitting at the end of the table. He had a hard time figuring out that man. The man had black hair and was staring down at his food; Roland felt a dark presence in the man, one that was meant to be hidden.
"Ah, hello Dr. Childe," Xavier said, he turned his chair around so he could see the man in black. Roland just smiled down at the bald man.
"I prefer Roland, Professor," Roland said, "my doctorate isn't worth mentioning." /always cool and collect,/ he thought, /that'll save your life one day./ "it's honorary."
"But you earned it anyways, Roland," Xavier replied. "Please have a seat."
"Thank you. Still, I prefer my first name." Roland walked over to the table; Ororo had taken a seat next to Scott and gave him a caring look. /not one of love, though. Something happen./ "Professor, may I ask why the somber mood; did someone die?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so," The professor said. "One of our dear friends died a year ago today."
"I'm sorry that such an even happened," Roland replied, he took the only open seat, in between Kurt and the unknown man. /had I known, I'd have someone help./
"Mr. Wayne informed me that you are a mutant," Xavier changed the subject; Roland felt that it was a hard topic for the people in the room. "Do you know what your powers are?"
"Yes, but I prefer not to speak of them," Roland tented his hands over the plate in front of him. "Those matters are a bit too personal."
"You can speak freely here, Roland," Ororo said, "We're all-"
"Mutants, I know," Roland replied, "I hacked into your data banks and researched this place before I came. It's rather interesting what you keep in there. The protections you installed won't work against any experienced hacker, but prevents amateurs, not by much though." A smile was on his face as all eyes were on him.
"What else do you know?" Storm asked.
"Enough," Roland said, "I know your names, your powers, and whatever else you stored on the computers. At least, the ones in this place that are connected to the internet." He watched as Scott blushed, but no one else changed their expressions. The man at the end stared angrily at him. "But I don't know about you."
"Name's Logan, bub," he said, and looked Roland start in the eyes. The sight of Logan's face shocked him, but he didn't show it. /he's alive? How?/ so many thought raced through Roland's mind. /but he is that man, I recognize him from the pictures in the American Magic (A/N: This is the American version of the Daily Prophet.) "Ya got a problem with me?"
"Not yet," Roland's pride took over, "but I think I can find one." A threat was still a threat, whether from a dead man or from one of his mortal enemies.
"Ya ain't nothing but a damn drifter," Logan retorted, standing up.
"But a damn powerful one at that," Roland followed the feral mutant's suit. /I don't want anyone interfering with this,/ he thought. Roland concentrated and tried to extend his aura, one that prevented the use of telepathic commands or projection. /thank god, it worked./ "I've never been beaten in a fight."
"There's a first time for anything," Logan replied, the sound of his metal claws popping out of his knuckles echoed the otherwise silent mansion. An animalistic roar came from him as he dove over the table's edge at Roland. But in a swift motion, Logan was on his back and a black katana was pointed at the man's throat.
"I've never been beaten for I am that damn good," Roland said, staring down at the mutant, his sunglasses had fallen off, as had his hat. His long black hair was dancing over his head and his hollow eyes were staring at Logan. "And I will always be." Roland moved the sword closer to Logan's neck, his left hand twitching as he was making his decision. His voice had changed as his anger took over, his demonic, evil voice.
"Roland," a girl appeared, "let him up." He turned his head to see his girlfriend standing in the door way. Roland looked back down then back at Trish. The black katana disappeared from Roland's hand. With the hand that held the sword, he offered it to Logan.
"You'd be a good fighter," Roland said, "if you didn't let your anger take over." Logan looked like he was going to refuse the hand, but when a glare came from Professor X, he took. And a rush of memories hit Roland. None of his own, but from Logan. /the man doesn't know about his past./ he thought as he watched the memories. He saw everything, not only what Logan remembers, but what he forgot as well. He saw the site of him dying to protect his family, and how he looked over the body of his wife.
"Ya can release me hand now," Logan said, snapping Roland out of his trance.
Roland quickly released his hand and walked past him over to Trish. just before he reached her though, he stopped next to the professor. "We need to talk," he said.
"Indeed we do," Xavier replied, and Roland walked over to his girl friend, embracing her in a hug.
~~End Flashback~~
Roland sighed. "You now know why it is hard for him. His past usually haunts him this time of year. But it's worst time is the last week of October. He just senses that something happened then and becomes all moody. Don't' ask why, I won't tell you." He didn't tell her about what the memories were, just that he got them.
"Thank you," She replied, "it just makes me feel better knowing why."
"You can't tell him that I told you about that," Roland added, "alright?"
"Fine."
"Promise?" Roland was being very persistent about and he had reason to be. He figured that Logan would see it as breaking the promise.
"I promise," Jean replied, though Roland could tell that she didn't like it.
"Good and you know how I feel about promises." Roland jumped off the hood of the car. "Listen, take care and tell Scott to try not to be such an asshole all the time."
Jean laughed. "Okay," she turned to leave and looked back at him. "Take care, Roland."
"Bye, Lily," Roland said softly, but had no idea where it came from. He rubbed the back of his head and followed her. But the resemblance had caught his eye.
"Hey, Mack," the driver of the car yelled.
"Just wait for me," Roland yelled back as he walked up the stairs. He had to get Harry and Hermione down to the limo, and find Heather. /so much work, so little time./
* * * * * *
Deep within in the corridors of Roland's mind, Eonos waited and watched. "He's getting weaker," he said, talking to himself, "but no weak enough." He floated over to the many portals within his mind and began to view its contents. "It's a shame that Roland remembers everything. He allows me to see everything that he did and with that power of his; poor Hermione, pity, she could've been useful if that incompetent bloke didn't do that."
"But that's not your weakness, Roland," he said, and moved on to another portal. "No, your pride is. To proud to ask for help or except it. You should thank me for that. All those seeds I've planted have finally begun to sprout." He raised his arms and looked up. "You hear that, I'm the reason why you're going to die."
Eonos' attention turned to the events that had just occurred. "Oh, so our little Miss Phoenix has just learned of her dear friend's problem. My dear; that is just the beginning. But you can't help your late husband. Though," he turned around, in deep thought, "he isn't really a late husband now since he is alive." He spun back around, his white robe dancing in the air. "Doesn't matter really, she never find out the truth about that."
Certain memories kept popping up, and they were beginning to annoy Eonos. "Can't he forget her already?" he yelled to no one in particular. "She's dead, move one man. there's some nice girls out there for you. Like Heather." Being alone for the past eight year causes a man to lose his mind and Eonos was no different, talking to himself was a way of passing the time. "She's good looking, friendly, and probably very easy. You could score quickly with her."
He turned around sharply, "but no you and that damn promise to yourself. I can't believe that there is still chivalry, and in you none the less." Eonos looked at a memory of Eric. It was a memory of the Holocaust, the dreaded death camps. "Yes, that is the way I'll make the world once Roland breaks down. With him out of the way, the power of the Fallen Angel is mine and so I will rule."
The Forgotten Findings
By: Chronos the Fallen Angel
Author's Note: "Some things are meant to be forgotten, others should never be," Chronos the Fallen Angel
I have finished another chapter. God this is long, and it's going to take longer. Anyway, like I mentioned in the previous chapter, I will try to remain true to OoP but I will have a few things remain the same. Sirius did die as he did in OoP, but I will explain that, Hermione goes out with Ron then Steven in this AU. But everything else will remain the same, I think. I'm not making any promises.
One more thing, there is another story, written by alphabet-psycho, I can't remember what its name is but it's a great story. So please read and review it. Okay, I think that is enough, so on with this chapter.
Blue Phoenix: Fuck off, I happen to know that the first chapter sucks, so thanks for rubbing it in. and you can't judge the entire story on one chapter. There is more to the story then that. But granted you did have some good suggestions and I am trying to follow them. But you need to read more then the first chapter to understand the story. Read it all and review each chapter, that way you have more to rip about my story. Thank you.
Sorry, I would have this up sooner, but damn site wasn't working.
Again, anything created by J.K. Rowling is hers, DC theirs, and Marvel theirs.
* * * * * *
"I told you, Harry," Hermione said as she was packing, "we'll figure it out when we get there." Harry lifted his suitcase onto the bed and sighed. Two weeks had already pasted, Roland had recovered from his episode, and was nice again. Harry and Hermione were working on their new weapons whenever they could, Roland felt that it would be unfortunate if Hermione was caught in a hand-to-hand combat situation, but did nothing to fix the problem, leaving it on Harry's shoulders. So Harry gave her a simply dagger. She was so excited when she found out he had transfigured it from a rose. He was out in the garden with his wand. Hermione was on the other side of the school, swimming with Jean, Kitty and Heather and some other girls who had returned early from their summer break.
It was peaceful and quite, and Harry was just thinking. He had wanted to play basketball with Scott or Logan, or somebody, but everyone seemed busy. He had wanted to talk to Roland but he was off on some business trip as Hank had put it. So he found his way out into the greenhouse and gardens. It was one of his usually trips, one that he just thought about what was going to happen once they got back to Hogwarts. About Hermione and him. But Harry noticed something unique on this walk; a single white rose was growing along with all the red ones in the green house. He decided to pick it and give it to his girlfriend. But his thoughts somehow returned to protecting her and Roland's words: "she's good with that bow, but in hand- to-hand combat, you're a sitting duck. You need something to protect you."
Hermione refused anymore gifts, either because Roland had already given so much or that she was afraid of his gifts now. It didn't matter anyways; she just didn't take it and that worried Harry. He cared for Hermione more then the world itself, and to even think that she couldn't protect herself was hard on him. The rose glowed a bright white color and was suddenly a single dagger in his palm. Harry smiled, /wandless magic,/ he thought, /Hermione will be happy./ he kept his smile all as he walked all the way back to his room, and even after he gave Hermione the dagger.
He had another reason to be happy. Roland was right in saying that Harry would be able to play the guitar in two weeks. In fact it was less then that, after a week, Harry was playing the guitar. He sang to Hermione sometimes, often she would sit in hid lap, his arms wrapped around her and the guitar and he played. Harry played and sang soft lullabies to his girlfriend. Hermione always smiled and kissed Harry after the song was over; she refused to go to sleep unless he played a song for her. And for some odd reason, he never ran out of songs for her. Hermione was so soft and sweet, Harry loved everything about her, every detail, every flaw, (he never saw any flaw); he couldn't help himself but to make her happy. And he had many things to be happy with her about.
Hermione had finally gotten over what had happened to her; the professor made them go through a training simulation the in the end involved a man that looked just like Steven. And she had to defeat him all by her self. Harry could only stay on the side-line and help her if she really needed it. As much as he wanted to help, Harry didn't because he knew that it would help out Hermione. For a while, he was worried because Hermione was on the defense a lot, refusing to fight. He knew that she was terrified of the man. But in the end, Hermione defeated him, using her 'hard air' attack. For a while, the man didn't get up after the last attack Hermione made. She walked over to him just as the holographic images were dropped, revealing a room affectionately called the 'danger room' and the man who was portraying Steven. Harry quickly caught up to her, a smile on both their faces as she faces her fears and won.
Roland lay against the wall, where the image of Steven once was. Hermione gasped at the sight she saw, but he quickly told her to think nothing of it. He just wanted to help and that was his way of helping. She smiled again, and he returned the smile. Harry just stared at he cousins. Roland was often pushing his limits and that day was no different; he was off somewhere, 'working' as the professor called it, and when he came back, Roland could barely walk. But he still did that. And Hermione always reprimanded him for it. But Harry never said a thing, he knew that Roland could take care of himself, but he also knew that he was smart enough to ask for help when it was truly needed. Though he never did.
/But enough with the past,/ Harry thought, /we're heading back to London and the wizarding world./ a smile came on his face as he stood back to finish packing. "Harry, could you hand me our toothpaste and brushes?" Hermione asked, looking back at him.
"Sure thing," Harry walked into the bathroom to grab the bag that they had filled with all their bathroom items. It had more then toothpaste and brushes as his girlfriend had begun to use make-up; not much but enough to highlight the already beautiful face that Hermione had. She had changed so much since he had first meet her. Hermione had grown into a beautiful woman; her hair had straightened out, she had gain more curves (in the right spots, Harry laughed), and was a bit taller, not much though.
Harry had changed too, as he looked in the mirror. His shoulders had broadened, as had his chest. He had gained muscles, looking slightly bigger then last year. Harry was also taller, he hadn't grown much, but sufficient, leveling out at six even. But his hair refused to change, still as wild and curly as ever. "I wish I could change it," he said, trying to comb it as he looked into the mirror.
"Ahh, but I like it that way, Harry," Hermione had come up behind him and slipped under his arms, she that she was in front of him. A smile was on her face as she was looking up at Harry, not in the mirror.
"Okay, I won't change it," he replied. Harry put the comb down and wrapped his arms around Hermione. "I'd do anything to make you happy, 'Mione."
"And I'd do anything to make you happy," she said and stood on her toes to kiss him. "I just wish I was a bit taller."
"You know what I see when I look in that mirror," Harry asked.
"No, what?"
He pulled away, leaving Hermione in the center of the mirror. "The world's most beautiful, smartest, sexiest-"
"Harry!"
"Perfect girl, one that I wouldn't trade for anything."
"Anything?" Hermione turned and looked at Harry. A look of doubt and confusion was on her face.
"Anything, 'Mione, I love you," Harry said, and quickly hugged Hermione. He could hear her sobs, and wished that they'd stop, but knew better. She was happy with him. Despite all that he had done for her, Hermione cried sometimes. All that training and all the therapy as Roland called it; helped but didn't fix the problem. But he also learned that she wouldn't have gotten as far as she has without his help. "Don't let anyone tell you the difference." Harry didn't know way he said that, but felt that it would matter some time later.
"Thank you Harry," Hermione replied, she had buried her head in his chest, and Harry's arms were wrapped around her shoulders. "You always knew what to say."
"Nah," Harry smiled as she looked up, "I just know what is the truth." A lone tear slid down her face, and Harry wiped it off. What little make-up she had one was smearing from her other tears, so Harry just wiped it off. "You know you look beautiful without the make-up."
"I know," Hermione smiled as she released Harry and looked in the mirror. She pulled out a little thing of make-up and fixed her blush. "I think that I look better with it."
"Whatever, 'Mione," Harry said, "what makes you happy." He walked over to her and kissed her head. "c'mon, let's finish packing." Hermione walked past him and out the bathroom door and Harry followed, a smile still on their faces.
"Please do," Roland was seated on the bed, his cowboy hat hiding his hair, and his sunglasses, as always, hiding his eyes. He had his legs crossed and so were his arms. But a small smile was on his face. "I've got to cast a shrinking spell on them, our plane leaves in-" he pulled out a watch from his coat, "five hours; I want to be early so I can raid the stores."
"Explain to me again why can't Harry cast the spells, it would save us time," Hermione asked.
"I've wards placed all around the school and grounds, protecting it from magic users and the such. Most wizards can't use their magic the wards are so powerful. I found that I could, but I doubt that it is because I casted them. So, hurry up, our limo is waiting."
"We're taking a limo?" Harry replied. Harry pulled the rest of his cloths out of the closest.
"Yeah," Roland said, "my boss is paying for the tickets and the limo."
"Does he know about-" Hermione started, as she was finishing placing all her books in one the trunks Roland summoned.
"Magic, yeah," Harry and Hermione stopped what they were doing to stare at Roland. "Don't worry, he can be trusted."
"How do you know that?
"Because I asked him," Roland said, "my boss has ways of finding out, so if I didn't tell, he'd know anyways." The smile pasted from h is face. "He's helped me out more than you can imagine, I owed him so much for saving me, it was the least I could do."
"Is he the reason why you have that arm and eye?" Hermione closed the trunk and took a seat on it. Roland just nodded. "I see why he respect is important to you. You think you owe him a lot."
"More then you know," Roland muttered under his breathe, soft enough so Hermione didn't hear it but Harry caught it as he grabbed the last of his cloths from the closest.
"But telling that information isn't a way of gaining respect," Hermione said. "He could use that information against you."
"And what slander my name?" Roland replied. "Sorry to tell you, but the name 'Roland Childe' doesn't carry the weight it used to in the Muggle world. So it would be pointless to hurt your best inventor because of personal issues. Besides, Mr. Wayne isn't like that, he's my friend."
"Is his name Bruce?" Harry eyeballed her.
"Yeah, playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne. I told you, he saved my life. I would've died had he not paid for my operations. In return, I gave him the patent for my inventions and now I work for him, creating whatever I can, and gathering information on the magical." He smacked his forehead. "I shouldn't have said that."
"Sounds like something Hagrid would say," Harry remarked as he picked up the last of the trunks and carried it over to where Hermione was sitting.
"Forget about it, you won't find any more info on it." Roland stood up and walked over to the trunks. "Have you put aside the bags for your cloths and carry-ons?"
"Yeah," Harry replied, he pointed to four bags all the way in the corner. His guitar was right next to it along with a small trunk filled with things that Hermione and he would need until they returned to Hogwarts. "I've placed everything that we'd need for two weeks, like you said."
"And how bout Hedwig and Crookshanks?"
"They're set for the trip too. Hermione gave Crookshanks a pill that calmed him down, so he won't awake til we get to London."
"Good," Roland looked back at the bags, staring at them for a moment. When he turned back to the other trunks, a black wand appeared in his right hand. Without a single word, he waved the wand over the trunks and they quickly shrunk. "There you go, place them in a safe place; you don't want these trunks smashed." Roland picked them up and handed it to Hermione. "I'll be downstairs with Heather, loading our stuff, so come down when you're ready." He walked out, his coat dancing in the breeze made by his swift movements. All the was left was Crookshanks and Hedwig, both were peacefully sleeping in their cages.
"Ready?" Harry asked Hermione, taking her hands in his.
"Yeah, I'm ready," she replied. "As long as you don't leave me." Hermione moved closer to him and laid her head against his chest.
"As long as this heart beats, I won't. I will protect you, my love."
Hermione moved up to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Harry pulled Hermione closer, his arms around her waist. Son their lips were locked and both refused to let go of each other. When they released each- other, a large smile was shown and their faces.
* * * * * *
Roland sat on the bumper of the car, waiting for his friends to show up. Jean came walking down the stairs that lead up to the mansion. "Listen, Roland," she said, "I've a favor I need you to do."
"Really, what?" Roland was staring at the ground; he had been pushed to the point of exhaustion lately and was standing over the line of tired and dead. But he rarely refused a favor. It was how he got as far as he did.
"I want you to-" she started.
"Look after Harry and Hermione?" He interrupted. "You're the third person to ask me today." He stood up and walked over to the front of the car. "Don't worry about, I've it under control."
"No, it's not that," she said, "I'm worried about Logan, he's more distant then he was before. He's been hiding in his room, doing god knows what." Jean sighed. "I just want to know what's bothering him."
"Don't worry about him, Jean," Roland replied, "he's always like that this time of year." He placed an arm around her shoulders, a friendly gesture. "Don't ask me why, he just does." /that's a damn lie and you know it./
"I don't believe you." Jean said. "Tell me, Roland." she looked up at his with her emerald green eyes. Roland stared at her for a moment, and fixed his glasses with his other hand. All his thoughts raced. /those eyes are familiar, but from the picture I've seen before, they were never this bright. Much like./ he drifted off in thought.
He sighed and released his friend. Roland rubbed the back of his head thinking. "I wish I could, gods know, but I can't, Jean. I promised." She turned away, and he felt awful. "Jean, you have no idea what happened to him."
"And you do?" she snapped, upset for a strange reason. Roland felt that even she surprised at her statement.
"Yes, but I promise I made when I first got here prevents me from telling anyone. Including Logan." Roland turned away, upset at himself for saying that. /Stupid, now she'll figure it out./ a voice said in his mind.
/No, she won't,/ Roland thought back, /she doesn't know all of it./
"What do you mean?"
Roland sighed again and took a seat on the hood of the limo. "Like I said, I found out when I first got here. My mutant powers for straddling the line between controllable and uncontrollable. God, has it been that long."
{Author's note: I'm sorry but Logan's memories are important to the story believe me. As I said before this is not a fic about Roland centered in Harry's world, this is about Harry and Hermione. There is a lot of foreshadowing in the section, so read it carefully.}
~~Flashback~~
Roland entered the mansion, his mind racing. /why the hell am I here?/ he thought, /I should be doing my job./ His long black trench coat and hat hid his appearance, which was a horror for people to see. For the past year, he had learned so much about his world. About his history, about the horror of it. And in a single night, he promised to change it. But that hadn't stopped what happened to him.
Roland growled in anger and swung his metallic hand, smashing one of the vases next to the doorway. "Oh dear," an African-American woman said, her white hair bouncing behind as she came down the stairs. . He quickly scanned her, seeing if what he had learned to hate was in her too. But a sigh of relief came when it wasn't. Roland felt that this woman was trustworthy, despite his general distrust of the world. And he had the last year to thank for that. "That was one of my favorite."
"It was a fake," Roland replied, looking down at it, "one that was cleverly designed to look like the original. It had no value." His voice was mechanical, one that he had trained to show no emotion, a quality that helped in his job. A smile crossed his face.
"Are you happy that you did that?" the woman asked, clearly upset with Roland.
"No, just that no one was there," Roland said. /damned people,/ he thought, /they care so much about their manners./
"You're Roland Childe right," he nodded, "Please follow me. You can bring you trunk and bag if you wish." Roland picked up his trunk in his left hand, it felt like the circuits were going to be pulled out of it, but luckily the arm remained attached to him. He had drained most of his energy earlier that day, doing his job. /damned job, but no one else can do it./ he followed the woman down a long hallway, the walls had painting on the them and in his mind, Roland was checking off which ones were replicas and which ones were real. /this professor must be rich,/ Roland was thinking, /even though these are all originals, they're still good copies./
"You can remove your coat and hat with you want." The African-American woman looked back at him. "And your sunglasses."
Roland smiled; he'd worn them so often that he had forgotten that they were event there. "I'd prefer not to," he replied. Roland's eyes never got better, even when he transformed, he kept the sunglasses on. Being who he was, any kind of light bothered his eyes.
"I'm sorry that we didn't meet you," the woman continued, "I'm afraid that we didn't know when you were coming. Mr. Wayne called and said that you would be here around four and when you didn't show up, we'd thought-"
"I got caught in traffic," he said.
"For two hours." Roland didn't say a word, they had reached the end of the hallway and the woman opened the doors. Roland stopped just short of the door way, he was able to see the entire room from there. He had wanted to be carefully, in his line of business, he couldn't be careless. With his mechanical eye, Roland scanned the room, searching for the single energy presence that was the only reason he ever feared. But with a sigh of relief, he didn't find it. And so Roland walked in to the dinning room.
Eyeballing everyone in the room, his hollow eyes rested on a single man, everyone was as he expected from the data files he hacked into. Professor Xavier was the crippled man who gave off a wise presence. Scott Summers was the leader of the group, as he could tell that others looked up to him. Kurt Wagner was the religious man, Roland smiled. /I'll have some interesting conversations with that man./
The woman that he had met in the main hall was Ororo Munroe. She was calm and collected, from what he read in the data files, this woman could control the weather. /I have a few things to teach her then./
Roland's eyes fell on the man sitting at the end of the table. He had a hard time figuring out that man. The man had black hair and was staring down at his food; Roland felt a dark presence in the man, one that was meant to be hidden.
"Ah, hello Dr. Childe," Xavier said, he turned his chair around so he could see the man in black. Roland just smiled down at the bald man.
"I prefer Roland, Professor," Roland said, "my doctorate isn't worth mentioning." /always cool and collect,/ he thought, /that'll save your life one day./ "it's honorary."
"But you earned it anyways, Roland," Xavier replied. "Please have a seat."
"Thank you. Still, I prefer my first name." Roland walked over to the table; Ororo had taken a seat next to Scott and gave him a caring look. /not one of love, though. Something happen./ "Professor, may I ask why the somber mood; did someone die?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so," The professor said. "One of our dear friends died a year ago today."
"I'm sorry that such an even happened," Roland replied, he took the only open seat, in between Kurt and the unknown man. /had I known, I'd have someone help./
"Mr. Wayne informed me that you are a mutant," Xavier changed the subject; Roland felt that it was a hard topic for the people in the room. "Do you know what your powers are?"
"Yes, but I prefer not to speak of them," Roland tented his hands over the plate in front of him. "Those matters are a bit too personal."
"You can speak freely here, Roland," Ororo said, "We're all-"
"Mutants, I know," Roland replied, "I hacked into your data banks and researched this place before I came. It's rather interesting what you keep in there. The protections you installed won't work against any experienced hacker, but prevents amateurs, not by much though." A smile was on his face as all eyes were on him.
"What else do you know?" Storm asked.
"Enough," Roland said, "I know your names, your powers, and whatever else you stored on the computers. At least, the ones in this place that are connected to the internet." He watched as Scott blushed, but no one else changed their expressions. The man at the end stared angrily at him. "But I don't know about you."
"Name's Logan, bub," he said, and looked Roland start in the eyes. The sight of Logan's face shocked him, but he didn't show it. /he's alive? How?/ so many thought raced through Roland's mind. /but he is that man, I recognize him from the pictures in the American Magic (A/N: This is the American version of the Daily Prophet.) "Ya got a problem with me?"
"Not yet," Roland's pride took over, "but I think I can find one." A threat was still a threat, whether from a dead man or from one of his mortal enemies.
"Ya ain't nothing but a damn drifter," Logan retorted, standing up.
"But a damn powerful one at that," Roland followed the feral mutant's suit. /I don't want anyone interfering with this,/ he thought. Roland concentrated and tried to extend his aura, one that prevented the use of telepathic commands or projection. /thank god, it worked./ "I've never been beaten in a fight."
"There's a first time for anything," Logan replied, the sound of his metal claws popping out of his knuckles echoed the otherwise silent mansion. An animalistic roar came from him as he dove over the table's edge at Roland. But in a swift motion, Logan was on his back and a black katana was pointed at the man's throat.
"I've never been beaten for I am that damn good," Roland said, staring down at the mutant, his sunglasses had fallen off, as had his hat. His long black hair was dancing over his head and his hollow eyes were staring at Logan. "And I will always be." Roland moved the sword closer to Logan's neck, his left hand twitching as he was making his decision. His voice had changed as his anger took over, his demonic, evil voice.
"Roland," a girl appeared, "let him up." He turned his head to see his girlfriend standing in the door way. Roland looked back down then back at Trish. The black katana disappeared from Roland's hand. With the hand that held the sword, he offered it to Logan.
"You'd be a good fighter," Roland said, "if you didn't let your anger take over." Logan looked like he was going to refuse the hand, but when a glare came from Professor X, he took. And a rush of memories hit Roland. None of his own, but from Logan. /the man doesn't know about his past./ he thought as he watched the memories. He saw everything, not only what Logan remembers, but what he forgot as well. He saw the site of him dying to protect his family, and how he looked over the body of his wife.
"Ya can release me hand now," Logan said, snapping Roland out of his trance.
Roland quickly released his hand and walked past him over to Trish. just before he reached her though, he stopped next to the professor. "We need to talk," he said.
"Indeed we do," Xavier replied, and Roland walked over to his girl friend, embracing her in a hug.
~~End Flashback~~
Roland sighed. "You now know why it is hard for him. His past usually haunts him this time of year. But it's worst time is the last week of October. He just senses that something happened then and becomes all moody. Don't' ask why, I won't tell you." He didn't tell her about what the memories were, just that he got them.
"Thank you," She replied, "it just makes me feel better knowing why."
"You can't tell him that I told you about that," Roland added, "alright?"
"Fine."
"Promise?" Roland was being very persistent about and he had reason to be. He figured that Logan would see it as breaking the promise.
"I promise," Jean replied, though Roland could tell that she didn't like it.
"Good and you know how I feel about promises." Roland jumped off the hood of the car. "Listen, take care and tell Scott to try not to be such an asshole all the time."
Jean laughed. "Okay," she turned to leave and looked back at him. "Take care, Roland."
"Bye, Lily," Roland said softly, but had no idea where it came from. He rubbed the back of his head and followed her. But the resemblance had caught his eye.
"Hey, Mack," the driver of the car yelled.
"Just wait for me," Roland yelled back as he walked up the stairs. He had to get Harry and Hermione down to the limo, and find Heather. /so much work, so little time./
* * * * * *
Deep within in the corridors of Roland's mind, Eonos waited and watched. "He's getting weaker," he said, talking to himself, "but no weak enough." He floated over to the many portals within his mind and began to view its contents. "It's a shame that Roland remembers everything. He allows me to see everything that he did and with that power of his; poor Hermione, pity, she could've been useful if that incompetent bloke didn't do that."
"But that's not your weakness, Roland," he said, and moved on to another portal. "No, your pride is. To proud to ask for help or except it. You should thank me for that. All those seeds I've planted have finally begun to sprout." He raised his arms and looked up. "You hear that, I'm the reason why you're going to die."
Eonos' attention turned to the events that had just occurred. "Oh, so our little Miss Phoenix has just learned of her dear friend's problem. My dear; that is just the beginning. But you can't help your late husband. Though," he turned around, in deep thought, "he isn't really a late husband now since he is alive." He spun back around, his white robe dancing in the air. "Doesn't matter really, she never find out the truth about that."
Certain memories kept popping up, and they were beginning to annoy Eonos. "Can't he forget her already?" he yelled to no one in particular. "She's dead, move one man. there's some nice girls out there for you. Like Heather." Being alone for the past eight year causes a man to lose his mind and Eonos was no different, talking to himself was a way of passing the time. "She's good looking, friendly, and probably very easy. You could score quickly with her."
He turned around sharply, "but no you and that damn promise to yourself. I can't believe that there is still chivalry, and in you none the less." Eonos looked at a memory of Eric. It was a memory of the Holocaust, the dreaded death camps. "Yes, that is the way I'll make the world once Roland breaks down. With him out of the way, the power of the Fallen Angel is mine and so I will rule."