Disclaimer: You have heard it all before. I own nothing except what isn't found in J.K.R's original story already. (Like my original characters, duh)

Time skips (I'll usually state how much time has skipped)

(switching to another perspective, or another character)

Sorry for making chapters short… but I have no patients to make them longer.

hr

"Harry? Do you have everything packed for tomorrow?" Came a sweet voice from down the hall to our onyx haired-boy-wonder.

"Yeah, I just have to put my tech stuff and instruments into their casings; I'll be done in about an hour." Responded a muffled voice from the black walled room at the end of the corridor. Yeah, it sucked. Harry James Potter McLeod was moving. On one hand, it really did excite him. His parents (rather, his foster patents) had told him that he had been born near London. But, on the other hand Harry didn't like this dark foreboding feeling inside of him, like he shouldn't return at all. But, he wasn't 18 yet so he didn't have much of a choice, really.

He had been living in Vancouver for as long as he could remember. His foster parents didn't have any children, so they had adopted a child when they were still living in England. They apparently 'acquired' Harry from his Aunt and uncle, who wanted nothing to do with him. And frankly, Harry thought this was for the better anyway. He was happy with Ian and Clair.

His parents often told Harry that he was special, he too didn't mind this. It helped him keep his sanity. Why you might ask? Well it was simple. He could do Magic. At first his parents were astonished that at the age of 5 he had managed to levitate a pencil. True, it may seem like something small, but at the time it was wonderful. Eventually his parents took it upon themselves to get him to do as much as possible. Though, they strictly kept it private.

Perhaps, this feeling of foreboding was in fact coming from his Powers?

"Naaah." Harry decided, pushing away his thoughts about Magic and concentrating on getting his computer to fit in its box. How come, only 3 months before it fit... and now it won't? He grumbled irritably and began to rearrange things one more. It was near the end of the school year, and Harry was leaving a week before school ended, meaning he had to take all his exams early. He didn't mind so much, they were excruciatingly easy.

(2 days later, 8:00 in the morning)

Well, that was certainly uneventful. His parents managed to find a taxi to take to their newly acquired home in the suburbs. Their Moving truck would be along in no time, so for the moment they were alone in their creepily empty house.

"Well, it doesn't appear to be… that bad…" Mrs. McLeod started before she was cut off by Harry's indigenous snort. She looked at him affectionately and whacked him playfully on the arm.

Ian merely Yawned. "Well, I think we should start repainting like... everything. Why don't we pick out rooms then?" The house was rather large, and it did have 3 bedrooms. 1 for his parents, and two for Harry. This he liked. He didn't mind that they got the master bedroom, he got 2 bedrooms. His parents were only rich because they were both rock-stars and singers. His father, Ian was a dark haired and dark skinned fellow with various tattoos around his body and more piercing than his mother. He had hazel eyes and was more of the relaxed, lets have some fun type of guy. Not like his mother. His mother, Clair was more 'clean' when it came to body piercing and tattoos, though she had a few, most of them were concealed by her clothing. She was a beautiful red-haired woman with blue eyes, but her vision was so horrible that she got glasses last year. Which didn't seem to look half bad on her seeing as she usually accented both glasses and eyes with heavy black eyeliner.

And Harry? Well he was a mixture of both. He had of a more rebellious look to him, except he wasn't a rebel (at least, not against his parents.) He, like his father, had taken an assortment of tattoos, starting from when he was younger at the age of 14. He had been collecting them ever since. He had a few piercing, one in his eyebrow, one in his tongue and a few more in his ears. He wore an assortment of clothing, sometimes baggy and roughed up looking, sometimes sleep and elegant, sometimes hard core stereotypical punk and metal outfits, usually everything was accompanied by a spiked piece of jewellery. His hair was incredibly long, down to the middle of his back by now, with beautiful Emperor jade green eyes.

"I could use some dinner…. Actually…" Harry muttered, while following his parents and exploring their house, which could have passed as a miniature mansion.

Ian laughed at his statement before responding in a rather teasing voice. "Don't you mean to say, Breakfast?"

"Jet leg, I'm still in Canadian time."

"Well, we'll phone up a pizza place or something." Clair whipped out her handy cell phone and began punching in numbers, before she realized that they were in Britain, and it would be considered long distance.

"Shite. Well okay. Um... who's up for a drive? Right... we don't... have a car.. Well! The Taxi is still outside, wanna go exploring?" Clair rambled on, not caring if they were following her or not (which they were) "Actually, why not go buy a car, first thing, ne? Good dim glad you think it's a great idea." Once again, she was off into her own little world.

Harry flapped his hands together to imitate her speaking while his dad withheld his snickers and gently smacked him upside-down the head. Trying desperately to not laugh or smile at her face, Clair audibly demanded to be let in on what was so funny. She didn't succeed, much to her disappointment.

It was within no time that they were being driven into town, and after finding no entertaining radio stations, eventually all 3 were singing some Rob Zombie song and banging their heads, much to the fright of the poor taxi driver. The continued on like this for some time, alternating between the same Rob Zombie song and Marilyn Manson.

"Dig through the ditches, Burn through the witches! I slam in the back of my DRAGULA" And they banged their heads in the rhythm. So of course, Harry was the only one to see the pedestrian walk way approaching them rather quickly. The Taxi was too preoccupied with looking horrified at his mother in the front seat that his attention wasn't on the road.

"HIT THE BRAKES!" Harry Screamed as the yellow car came up upon a blond haired women rather quickly.

Draco (or rather, Voldemort) had been told by Lucius, that while they were out they had to act like father and son, and this deeply pissed the Dark lord off. Not only was he trapped inside of Lucius Malfoy's gay son, but his... hormones were starting to get out of control. Damn children.

They had been on their way to talk with a particular store owner when an unusual feeling overcame Voldemort's nose… he had been walking for some time, straying even further away from Malfoy, when he came to a Pedestrian side walk. He wasn't really paying attention, he just kept walking.

He never saw the yellow car approach.

This isn't my first time writing a story, but is my first time writing Fanfiction.

Song mentioned is Dragula by Rob Zombie