A/N Hello everyone. Contrary to popular belief, I haven't fallen over a cliff yet. Sorry for the lack of update…yes, I know I'm one of those authors who says that they will update, and then doesn't. Blame my school, and then swim team, and then more swim team, and family stuff. I will update as often as possible, but probably not very often until summer.

Sorry, but this is going to focus on Harry for a little while longer. My friend has my copy of Sandry's Book¸ and I don't want to make a silly error regarding Kherroch/Roach/Briar's life simply because I didn't take the time to look stuff up. Anyway, on with the show!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot!

At that statement, both Lily and the newly nicknamed Harry gave soggy giggles. James knew in his heart that he was doing the right thing, and that Harry had been given to them for a reason. He only hoped that Voldemort would never find out about the sudden appearance of the newest Potter, because that would only increase the interest in and the hatred he seemed to have for the Potter family. After all, fourth times the charm…

It was the final night of Blood Moon, nearly fifteen months after the sudden appearance of the old-looking Bag and her infant son. She wasn't a Bag anymore though, just another old beggar fighting to get enough money to buy food. Throughout Deadman's District, an eerie fog blanketed the streets, muffling footsteps outside, and enhancing the creaks and shuffles inside the rickety, tumble-down buildings lining the filth clogged avenues. In a dingy, second story apartment, one inhabitant slept soundly, unknowing of the night-terrors plaguing the sleep of the toddler huddled next to her under the single, ragged, flea-bitten blanket.

These dreams, however, were not just the subconscious mind of a growing boy creating scenes of heroes and villains. No, these dreams were actually occurring to a little boy in an almost completely separate dimension, connected only by the unusual bond created between mage twins.

In a pose uncannily similar to that of his brother, Haresh, or Harry as he was now known, peaked out from underneath a well-loved blankie, tucked into a corner behind the toy box. He had been downstairs playing in the kitchen, raiding the plastics cupboard and using the utensils as drums, supervising as his mummy and daddy washed dishes the muggle way. All of a sudden, his mummy and daddy had looked panicked, with Daddy yelling to Mummy to take Harry and run, that he was coming. Harry had been ripped away from his toys and carried up the stairs, crying the entire way; he had been having fun! Mummy had carried him into the nursery, and told him to hide, saying that they were playing hide-and-seek.

But Mummy wasn't playing right, she didn't cover her eyes like she normally did, and didn't say that funny sounding string of words she usually shouted. She was just standing in the middle of the room, directly under the peak of the ceiling, facing the door with the stick that made the pretty lights in her hand. All of a sudden, the door burst open, and a big man stood with his back to the light from the torches in the hall, casting a long, black shadow into the room where it covered his mummy in a dark embrace.

"So, little Mrs. Potter, stands alone to protect her son, or should I say, her gift?" His voice echoed through the room, distorted and hissing into all the cracks and cubbies of the nursery. Harry tried to hide further in the shadows, squirming back until his feet hit the wall. "I know that your sons were stillborn, so where did that little one crouched under that filthy blanket in the corner come from? 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Given to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…' He shall not live to try!"

"I will not let you kill him. He is my son, whether or not I gave birth to him."

Laughing, the dark figure stepped further into the room. "Foolish child, you just confirmed that he is not of your blood. Your husband died to keep that secret, and you just made his death pointless, just another kill."

With just his eyes showing underneath the blanket, Harry watched as his mummy seemed to crumple, to wilt like his toast did if he spilled his milk on it. The pretty glowy stick dropped from her hands, landing with a clatter on the floor. Now his mummy wasn't standing anymore, rather she was kneeling on the floor, looking up at the monster in front of her.

"Not my Harry, please not my Harry, kill me instead." Where is Daddy? Why isn't he coming to help Mummy? She's crying. Mummy's not supposed to cry! "Please, no!" Daddy, come help Mummy! She needs you! "Harry!"

The big scary man in black brought out his own glowy stick, and pointed it at his mummy. "Stupefy" Harry shrunk even further back into his corner, as a yucky red light shot at his mummy, who fell forward, her hands not even coming up to catch herself, to lie still, the only motion being the steady rise and fall of her chest. His mummy was never that still, not even when she was asleep.

"I'm leaving you alive, Mudblood, just so you can see your failure when you wake up. Your husband and your son, both dead. Now, come out, come out wherever you are, young Master Potter. There is nowhere for you to go, and nothing left to protect you." The scary man stepped on his mummy, crossing the nursery floor in just a few strides until he was standing in the tiny opening between the edge of the toy box and the wall, cutting off the only escape route Harry was capable of using, seeing as he could only walk for a few steps. "So this is the mighty wizard who has the power to defeat me? You're hardly worth the effort it took to find you. My spy was most helpful though. Stand up, boy, I know you're old enough to." Harry was too frightened to move. Where was Daddy?

"No? Very well, suit yourself. Avada Kedavra." An ugly green light shot out of the end of the glowy stick and headed straight for him. Sudden pain on his forehead made him start crying, breaking the silence that had gripped him the entire time he was hiding. He huddled even further back into his corner, flattening himself against the wall and pulling his blankie up like a shield as the yucky green light filled the room, making every living thing in its path stop moving completely. The fishy in the bowl on the dresser went belly up. The owl in the other corner fell off its perch. His mummy went completely still, and the scary man disappeared from view, leaving behind only a fluttering black cloak and a gaping hole in the floor.

He crawled out of his corner and around the hole to where his mummy lay on the floor. Whimpering at the pain in his forehead and the overall scariness of the night, he cuddled next to the still form of his mother and cried.

A dimension away, the peaceful slumber of the old-looking lady in the dingy second-story apartment on a foggy street in Deadman's District was interrupted by the wails of the little toddler laying next to her. If she still had her mage-sight, she would have noticed the lightning-bolt shaped mage-mark glowing in the center of her son's forehead. As it were, she was more preoccupied by the shouts of the man across the hall.

"Shut dat kid up, y' lazy pile, before I does it fer y'!"

A/N… thus concludes the next installment of the Circle Expands. Very angsty wouldn't you say? Leave a review, if you please!