The next day I walked down the path to the entrance and exit to the camp with my entire luggage. Waiting there was a tall, black-haired man with laid-back ears and a black tail. His fangs showed in a smile he threw at me. It was my father.

I walked up to him and held out my palm where it was facing his chest. He did likewise. When our fingers lined up, both our sets of adamantium claws protruded from between our knuckles. It was our special greeting.

"Dad," I muttered.

"Akela," he whispered back.

Instantly I could tell it wasn't his voice. As far as I can tell, it was the exact opposite of my father's warm, welcoming voice.

"I've come for you, my little jungle flower."

"Well, I'm here. Let's go home."

"What about Harry and the others?" he questioned.

"They decided to join us in a few days."

Looking slightly disbelieving, he put his arm around my shoulders and escorted me through the gates.

From the blackberry bushes and the treetops two people observed our departure. A third was observing the security cameras with a desiring look in his eyes.

Once outside the demonic territory Dad slipped a knapsack from his pocket.

"Put your belongings in here. This bag reduces the size and weight of its burden by half."

I did as I was told. Since my entire luggage together weighed ninety-two pounds, it now measured forty-six pounds. To him this was nothing. I had personally seen him carry little over three hundred pounds.

Simultaneously we transformed and ran off. Not knowing where Dad currently lived, I kept close on his tail so I wouldn't get lost.

Now the spies from the bushes and trees followed our progress.

Three days later we arrived at a mansion in the village of Hogsmeade. Surprisingly Dad lived next door to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.

"We're very good friends," Dad explained at my surprised look.

The two of us walked in, and I instantly noted the extravagant gleam of the sun peering through the stained glass window, casting the fabulous reflection on the white marble floor. Even the tinkling of a bell could be echoed through the hallways.

"Welcome home," my father declared.

After a week, I noticed only one irregular act in my father's behavior. I knew his bedroom to be at the end of the second floor corridor. However, as I descended the banister every morning I spotted his ascending from the basement with a cold sweat running down his face. I made no move to show that I had noticed his strange appearance. However, one evening, I decided to find out was down there. Late that evening, around midnight, I crept out of my room and stole downstairs. There was the door, lonely-looking and forlorn. I extended my taloned hand and gripped the doorknob, turning and pushing as I did so.

What I was confronted with so far wasn't unusual. A set of rickety steps led under the foundations of the mansion. Carefully I tiptoed down them, taking precautions so they wouldn't creak. It was when I reached the landing that I was caught off my guard.

A large portal was menacingly spitting red sparks. Temptation and curiosity tugged at me, and I stepped through.

On the other side was a wide stretch of grass with a cabin and a large house. When I looked at waist height, gravestones clouded my vision. One instantly snatched my attention: Tom Riddle.

I was at the Riddle property.

Suddenly, a scream rent the air, quickly stifled. Then, to my left, an incantation, was cast before I could react.

"STUPEFY!"

I was blasted off my feet and landed against a tombstone, knocked unconscious immediately.