Necropolis Metropolis

Eve: Hey, it's me again!

Mike: US! It's US again.

Eve: … yeah.

Mike: You guys are used to our insanity by now and so no apology is necessary… Right Evee?

Eve: STOP calling me Evee! I am NOT a Pokemon!

Sarah: And her name is Eva.

Eve: … ouch, it huuurtssss ahhhhhhhh!

Mike: … get up. You really should be here for the first chapter.

Eve: …That's right… This is a continuation to TLBTL. It has a thankfully shorter title.

Mike: Yeah, you'll explain the title later. Right now I'd just like to thank all my-"

Eve: STOP READING MY SCRIPT!

Mike: Stop yelling, the spell check doesn't work on caps.

Sara: What spell check?

Eve: Anyway. This story re-writes the fifth year, starting early during the summer of the fourth year. It moves pretty quickly and probably won't be very long if you guys don't want it to be very long. Most of it just needs to be re-written so updates should be fast. I know I depressed you all with my ending to TLBTL, but that's how it had to end. I hope you enjoy this story as that's the reason for it. Also, please check out my other works. Same name, only on Fictionpress.

Sara: … Eva, explain the title.

Eve: (Sigh) Right, well Necropolis Metropolis basically means Death City, for those of you who needed me to dumb it down. You'll get the reason for it later, for right now just think of it as what the world would be like under Voldemort's rule or terror…. Teeeerrooorrrr, teeerrooorrrrrr!

Sara: So that's where all the coffee went.

Eve: Shut up you!

Mike: So, without further ado-

Sara: There is ALWAYS further ado.

Eve: On with the fic!

I still remember the world
From the eyes of a child
Slowly those feelings
Were clouded by what I know now

Where has my heart gone
An uneven trade for the real world
I want to go back to
Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all

I still remember the sun
Always warm on my back
Somehow it seems colder now

Where has my heart gone
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger
I want to go back to
Believing in everything.

Harry J. Potter sat quietly on his bed at Number 4 Private Drive. Yet, unlike the other residents of the quiet suburban neighborhood that fine afternoon, his mind was being tortured with memories. While other people enjoyed the warm weather, perfect breeze, and the comfort in believing that nothing was wrong at all, the fifteen-year-old boy sat alone in his dark room, wishing his soul would float out of his body and allow him to rest. The Dursley's didn't care in the least that their nephew had been through a traumatic and emotionally scarring event that could possibly destabilize his mental stability into a fragile state where he suddenly snapped and went on a killing rampage to prevent having to watch anyone else be killed by Voldemort, or suffer in general.

No, they enjoyed their nephew's silence like a God-send and rewarded it by pretending he didn't exist. When they did acknowledge him, it was like animal had peed on their carpet and Harry was the putrid stench that they wished they could wash away foreverwith some bleach and a cloth.This afternoon they had decided to ignore the emotionally distressed teenager by going to a movie. Alone in the house, Harry Potter had been confined to his tinny bedroom. He'd cleared it of some of Dudley's old junk and had found a few books to read but, other than that and homework, there was nothing to do.

He couldn't calm himself enough to read through any of his books and other than re-living that horrible night and even making new scenarios in his head that lead to worse and worse things happening, all Harry could do was wait for some sort of wake up call. Some kind of sign that every thing was going to be okay and it was alright for him to be happy again.

Hearing the hoot of an owl, Harry eased the window open in a dreamlike motion and ducked as an older looking owl swooped in. The graying owl dropped a letter onto the floor and landed on Hedwig's cage. Harry stared at the new owl, not recognizing it, and then with a shrug he yank open the letter. It read:

Be at the park at midnight. Remus and I need to talk to you.

There was no signature and the note seemed odd somehow, still, Harry nodded. He wrote 'I will be there' and the owl swooped down and snatched up the letter. Harry watched it disappear into the clouds. Feeling more alone than before, He slumped back down onto his bed and sighed deeply, wondering what Sirius and Remus wanted to talk to him about. Turning onto his stomach, Harry yanked his DADA book out of its spot and opened it, deciding to read for a few hours, then go to sleep so he'd be ready to sneak out at midnight.

That night, Harry Potter crept silently down the stairs, jumping the last few, and landing with a soft thud. He didn't wait to hear if his uncle woke up; instead he headed for the door. The night was sickeningly quiet and not even a cat was prowling around as Harry traipsed down the driveway and past all the anal retentive driveways that all matched and resisted even slight traces of individuality like oil spots or- God forbid- weeds. HOA was in full force, fighting the good fight against freedom, basic rights of self expression, and the right to be treated equaly. No,instead fought diligently and in a timely manor for the blessed cause of theiridoled conformity.

Harry wondered what they wouldthink about Voldemort traipsing through and bringing the real world to their door steps. The obsessive house wives with nothing better to do than watch their neighbors and sometimes simply drive around to give friendly waves, while keeping a notebook handy so they could report such tragedies as weeds, oil, screens that add color to he house, or what they could see in the backyard if the looked hard enough. It sickened Harry to know that as long as the yard was neat and tidy, there could be abuse, rape, murder, molestation, ANYTHING going on inside... Even Magic.

So long as it didn't spill out into their precious street. Then something shows and the rumor mill grabs hold of it, having nothing interesting in their own lives, and thus makes it even harder for the victims. It was like a whole neighborhood run by those spoiled bratty kids that only allowed other kids to play with them if they could make the rules and enforce them with an ironfist. The ones who'd rather sit the game out than allow another person with the posibility of a better idea to lead. It was the perfect cover for the scumbags of the earth to hide in.

Tonight, however, Harry was only briefly irritated by the houses. It was a dark night with no moon; which must have been why Remus picked it. When he arrived at the park, Harry saw no sign of anyone.The swings were twisted and abandoned, the teatherball was ball-less and tied in a knot, even the sand seemed dreary. It was actually a chilling sight as one swing still swayed, billowing in a ghostly memory. A playground was the purest symbol of innocence. Kids of different race, gender, religion, disability, anything just played together. Sure there were a few exceptions because let's face it- kids are mean.

Though they are taught that by their parents and the playground was an escape from parents. The playground was a haven from pedophiles, murderers, kidnappers, drunks, and abusers; all evils of the adult world. No, those people had to wait on the outskirts. Inside there was supposed to be laughter and joy, yet on this night Harry watched the vacant playground where all the happiness seemed drained from its once shinning and colorful dignity.

He sat down on a bench to wait, wondering what Remus would say or show him. As he gazed upon a jump rope hanging limply from the monkey bars he imagined it becoming a noose in which he could escape the world. His presence wasn't necessary on the earth after all and his 'family' would have been much better off if he just disappeared. Hell, Cedric would have been better off if Harry had notbeen there. Taking his eyes from the rope, Harry had an eerie feeling that something was wrong and he should leave, but the lust for information over powered it. There was a crunch from behind him and then everything went pitch black for young Harry Potter.

"We're not falling to you! Where is he! He knows! He knows we lost her! He knows! Where is he!" Harry awoke groggily to the sound of someone's ranting screams. He opened his eyes, his head pounding fiercely, and saw what looked like the dusty old basement from hell. Cobwebs lined the walls and all around were rusty tools and shattered glass which was barely recognizable under all the filth and dirt. Spiders skittered around through the durt and some king of green fungus grew up the walls, making a home for all softs of vile creatures.

"For the last fucking time, who!" snapped Sirius, a large bruise over his eye showing that he'd gotten there the same way Harry had. Though, unlike Harry, Sirius was with Remus in a cage made from a dog run.As easy as it was to put up a disapperation charm, Harry was sure that there was one around the dog run. Sirius was pressed against the chain link, his teeth barred in a growl, while Remus stood silently beside him.

"YOU KNOW WHO?" wailed a man dressed in a moth eaten Death Eater's robe who was currently clawing his fingers down his own face and seemed to have pulled out some of his hair. "You said: 'he's at Hogwarts.' But I looked all around that damn school and couldn't find him. And he knows we lost her! Without him we can't find her and he will be mad!"

"Somehow I think you're speaking of three different people," said Remus, looking worse for the wear and very tired.

"You know who I speak of!" exclaimed the Death Eater, seeming to have lost the rest of his mind and all of his patience. "If you won't tell me then… Then I'll just kill him! He would forgive me if I killed him."

Harry did not like that at all as the Death Eater suddenly turned towards him, wand out. He tried to get up, but found that his hands were bound tightly to a rake, the handle and rake part of which were inserted through the dog run. He pulled against it, but the rope wasn't loosening and the rake wouldn't break.

"Where is he?" hissed the Death Eater menacingly, his eye twitching.

"Who!" demanded Harry. "Voldemort?"

"NO!" wailed the Death Eater, grabbing hold of his hair and pulling.

"Who are you talking about then?" asked Harry, trying to back as far away from the man as possible, though he only had a few inches of possible movement.

The Death Eater cringed and shook, moaning like he'd been physically struck. He slammed his fist against Harry's face and began screaming incoherently. "My job! He, the brat, his daughter, lost, fire! Kill us, can't find her!" He twitched and there was no doubt in anyone's mind that this individual was insane. "Kill the boy! He forgive us if we kill the boy and try to find the daughter!" He grabbed hold of Harry's t-shirt and brandished his wand.

"Avada-"

"Not yet you fool!" barked a smaller figure who was also dressed in a Death Eater's robe and descended the stairs with amazing grace. "He has just returned and already you are trying to complete his plans?"

"He'd want this," proclaimed the death eater unstably, his hand shaking.

"Did he tell you that himself? Because I thought he told us to wait for him to call us when he'd risen to power again!"

"…I…I don't remember that."

"Idiot!" snapped the smaller figure. "How quickly did you cower and run?"

"…I left as soon as I got word of his d-"

"-Had you went to the meeting house instead-"

"-I would have been sent to Azkaban with the rest of them!"

"And learned that he promised to return."

The man was silent. The figure descending the stairs was obviously female, though her face was hidden behind the hood. She had a beautiful voice that did not calm Harry in the least for he recognized the vernacular. She spoke as someone superior, someone who knew the truth from the lie, someone who was not to be threatened. The samepatternof speach as Voldemort.

"Why do you think those who were sent to Azkaban are able to remain stable?" she asked.

"…No, he knows!" he pointed at a news paper article that said Sirius Black had escaped. "Said 'he's at Hogwarts' but I looked and I didn't see him!"

"He was looking for Wormtail, idiot!"

"…Wormtail knows where she is," whispered the older Death Eater. "He knows, he knows! Where is he!"

"You arederanged."

"What?"

"Unhinged, disturbed, crackers, loony, crazy, nuts, batty, off your rocker, mad! Take your pick, you're a nutter!"

"…No, he was the last to leave but he didn't bring her," the man babbled. "I asked and he said we had to go to the back up plan. So we went to the back up plan. We kept her safe, but she got away! Wormtail knows where she is or how to find her!"

"Are you even listening to me?"

"It's not my fault she got away! I'll redeem myself by killing the boy and finding the rat!"

"Voldemort's weapon got away; Peter failed to bring the girl. Now Voldemort has risen, with the rat's aid."

"No!"

"He asked for his daughter, he asked for you. He already knows you lost her and he wants you to find her. Peter doesn't know where she is."

"Neither do I! She's dead for all I know. I have to kill the boy!"

"Where's your honor? You kill this boy as he is bound while Voldemort would fight him free? Then you wish to report victory to our lord?"

The man looked down at Harry, his eyes wide in something more like paranoia than surprise. He grabbed a knife from his belt and slashed the rope, barely missing Harry's hands. Sirius seemed set in a silent pose of fear and anger as Harry was pulled to his feet. The Death Eater first lashed out with the knife, which Harry only barely dodged. He was kicked and beaten, cursed and hexed as he scrambled about the room, looking for any form of weapon. He was knocked towards the stairs, over near the other Death Eater.

She looked down watched as Harry tried to stand even as his legs trembled with pain from the unforgivable wrongly giventhe short name of Crucio. The man stalked closer, but the girl stood still, blocking him. She moved only once he had visibly calmed himself. Harry knew that was something Voldemort would have done as he believed thoroughly in tactic and order. She began to move, but the man wasn't witign and threw her painfuly aside. Harry was aware of a very pissed of look across her face as she hit the banister and it groaned in threat. The man raised his wand and yelled,

"Avadakadaaah… ahh…erggg!" Though he was silent all the sudden and fell to his knees, an oddly perplexed look on his face, before falling to he floor. Harry looked to see the girl, wiping blood off a silver rapier with the man's cloak. She reached down and grabbed the wand from the man's limp hand and saw the fearful look radiating off Harry.

"You look as though you judge," she spoke and gave a small, comforting laugh. "He was dead long before I came along."

Harry simply nodded, not quite understanding, but the girl snapped the wand and threw it to its master's feet before turning back towards the dog run. She positioned her rapier in between the chains and padlock and pulled. The rusted lock came free and the girl pulled the chain out. She looked up and jumped back as she saw Sirius, as if just realizing the he was there. Remus, who was standing behind Sirius, charged forward; but the girl spun on her heel and ran.

Harry, realizing the danger, leapt forward in an attempt to stop her. If someone knew he, Sirius, and Remus were allies then they wouldall be in danger. Sirius might even have to go back to Azkaban. The girl was fast and avoided Harry as she sprang up the steps and was gone. Sirius rushed to Harry, not bothering to step over the Death Eater. Remus, however, knelt down to examine he body.

"Who was she?" Harry asked Sirius, hoping he knew.

"I don't know," Sirius answered evasively, dusting Harry off.

"Well whoever she is, she killed this man with a single blow..."

Remus and Sirius exchanged meaningful looks, but despite all Harry's questioning, they refused to answer him. It was obvious to Harry that they knew something, but even as they dropped him off and put a memory hex on the Dursley's, they refused to comment.

"Do you think they started the program again?" Sirius asked in a low whisper.

"From the looks of it, they never stopped. That ANGEL wasn't in the records from before," replied Remus.

Harry awoke to a rumbling growl that sent Gooseflesh down his arms and made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He groped blindly for his glasses as the smell of mold and dirt reached his nostrils. His hand hit something gritty and he realized he wasn't in his bed. His forehead burned and he rubbed it tenderly. Yet there was something strange with the sensation; it wasn't so-much a pain, more along the lines of something comforting. Like a kitten's tongue, sand-papery, hot, but not necessarily painful.

He let his left hand glide across the floor and eventually came to his glasses. Then put them on to reveal that they made little difference as the room was almost pitch black. There must not have been a window. A thin line of corn colored light brought his attention to the door. Harry's hand hit a splinter as he moved and he jerked back, surprised by the pain. He climbed awkwardly to his feet, using only his legs, and then padded across the room towards the door.

As he pressed his ear against the door the rumble grew louder. It wasn't a growling, it was people. He took a breath and suddenly a sense of urgency washed over him, like he was an Auror already and on some mission of utmost importance. He leaned his back against the wall, lightly so he could move quickly if he needed to, then he let his hand grip the door and slowly push it open.

A soft creak emitted from the hinges and he froze. The noise from outside the door continued, no one had heard. He grabbed his wand and uttered a spell so the hinges would be silent, then he pushed it open and waited. The noise was louder now and he realized that it was a great-many people all taking at once. He poked his head out and saw a railing; he was on a higher landing than the voices.

Casting all doubts aside, Harry left the room and emerged into an older, rickety house with two floors, threadbare carpeting, and candle lighting. There were dark plumb curtains covering the windows, some of the curtains were riddled with holes and seemed to be attached to the walls with some kind of sticking charm. Cobwebs had taken over the house and spiders inhabited every crack, opening, nook, and loose floorboard.

The voices raged on as Harry crouched and began to crawl on his hands and knees, slowly towards the railing. The white paint was fading and cracking on the trellis, revealing termite eaten oak. He stared down at the sea of people below him. They were all wearing dark cloaks and had migrated into groups of two's, three's, even some four's and fives. Their voices mixed together and drifted up to Harry, but he couldn't understand them. He'd need to get closer if he wished to find out what they were saying.

Crawling army style, Harry negotiated his way over to the stairs and looked down them. He remembered the Dursley's house, where one of the stairs would squeak loudly if stepped on, he assumed these wouldn't be any better. So how would he… ah, yes; his cloak. He pulled on his invisibility cloak and stood up. The choice of taking it with him had been wise and he vowed to never leave without it.

Harry eased onto the first step and crept down the stars as if walking on eggshells. He reached the bottom and pressed his back against the wall. He side-stepped his way into a dark corner and squatted low. The conversations were a buzz of excitement, doubt, and fear. Some groups were talking in hushed voices about the chances that they'd get caught, others were laughing boldly, calling other members cowards and stating that they'd gladly go to Azkaban for their lord, but he had needed a few loyal souls roaming free for when he was re-awoken.

A few groups were chattering incoherently as they seemed to be in a great rush to get out everything they wanted to say. Wormtail was amongst this group as he stuttered ignorantly, claiming he'd do anything for his lord, but was afraid. Harry's stomach tighten into a knot and he ground his teeth and clenched his fists as he restrained himself from leaping out and tackling his father's betrayer.

Through the groups of Death Eaters, walked a lone figure, seeming to be immune to all the rumors and instead trapped in a world of its own. This figure was smaller than the rest and stood out like a white lion in a herd of wildebeest. The only part of the face that Harry could see was the sneer-like smile. The figure suddenly stopped as if it felt something. It turned its head and looked towards Harry and began walking towards him.

Without time to react, Harry was trapped and the figure was coming towards him quickly, ominously. It knelt down and Harry stopped breathing as he tried to convince himself that no one could see him under the cloak, but what if there was a part of him left uncovered? The figure leaned close and Harry pointed his wand, it was snatched away by the figure, almost tauntingly. Then, raising its hand, the figure pulled back its hood and Harry stared back into the startling green eyes of… himself?

With a gasp, Harry Potter forced his eyes open and jerked up. He found himself on the floor of his room on Number 4 Private Drive with Hedwig watching him; her big round eyes staring in an almost alarmed fashion. Harry groaned and a prickling washed over his scar. He was breathing hard and covered with sweat as if he'd been at a long Quidditch practice and found that his glasses were on his nose and there was a splinter in his finger. Sleeping on the floor, it was no surprise that he'd smelt dust and had been splintered.

The young wizard heard the groan of bedsprings trying to support Dudley's weight and held his breath, listening for Uncle Vernon to move. There was a snort-like grunt, followed by a sound that mimicked a broken bagpipe that had its pipes pinched shut. The alarming sound was familiar to Harry, and a sign that his Uncle Vernon would not be waking up to tell him that his terrifying nightmare had awoken Dudley and he would be locked in the closet as punishment.

Picking himself off the floor, Harry wiped the sweat off his brow and stumbled dizzily in his steps. He allowed himself to collapse onto bed and heard the loud squeaks of the old springs. He waited for Uncle Vernon to wake up and reprimand him for such a noise, but the walrus was in a deep sleep with the help of the Tylenol pm he'd taken in an effort to ignore the sounds of Harry's quill scratching across paper in his 'nightly letters to his God father' which were really his summer homework assignments.

Harry let out a shallow breath and realized that he'd wanted his Uncle to wake up. He'd wanted some sign of life in the musky room, even if that life was screaming at him or using him as an anger management doll. Why? He felt sick and fearful, like the day before a really important event that could end life as he knew it and replace it with something worse. He looked over at his desk; his eyes scanning the paper and quill and then traveling to Hedwig. He could send a letter to Sirius if he wanted to. It was slightly risky to send a lot of letters to Sirius, but Harry had found that it was almost impossible for him to go a week without writing.

He'd either feel guilty for not talking to the man that seemed to care for him so much, or lonely without an adult to talk to that seemed to accept him for anything. He was the only adult Harry had ever known that might have rewarded bad behavior and punished him for turning his homework in on time all year long. Most teenagers might have blown something up to make their parents mad; Harry would have complimented Snape if he wanted to make Sirius mad… and himself sick.

Harry stared at the quill for a moment longer, and then looked away. He wanted someone he could see in person. Someone he could write that would come. Ron? There was a possibility… but he'd have to ask his mum and then she'd want to contact the Dursleys about Harry visiting and they'd say no. Hermione? She'd analyze the dream, but might not come and see him, living far away and all. It was five am; too early to call her and the Dursleys wouldn't have allowed that anyway.

With a sigh, Harry stared out his window. His stomach rumbled and it was a few moments before he remembered that he had stashed food. He was about to get up, when depression hit him again. He was used to being the scrawny orphan with nerdy glasses, an ugly scar, clothes many sizes too big, and hair that seemed to be a rebirth of Medusa's, but now it seemed he was also a charity case. Sirius was on the run from the most evil prison in England, yet he still sent Harry food and encouraging words.

His mind drifted to Cho. She was his dream girl, but every time he looked in the mirror he saw her drifting farther out of his reach. He'd always been told that his father was good looking and charismatic and his mother was a delight. So… why was he the scrawny nerd almost matching Neville as far as the nerd-o-meter went? Dudley gave a rather loud and pig-like snore and Harry narrowed his eyes, reminded of exactly why he was the way he was. He'd been noticed by girls only when he'd come to Hogwarts and only because he was famous.

He had often tried to drift away from the world he was living in and make a new one. A world in which his parents were alive and his clothing fit. Yet every time he tried he felt sick, like he was tramping on everything his parents had died to give him. He didn't have their looks, but at least he was alive. He'd seen them only a short time ago and they'd been so happy to see him, even though they were dead and Voldemort was alive again. Then there was another thought. If Hermione's parents could convert Muggle money into Wizard gold, then surely he could do the opposite. Then he'd head to the mall one day and buy clothes that fit. He'd drop his old clothing in a bonfire.

Then he'd ask Mr. Weasley to 'fix' his glasses, seeing if there was any way he could make them thinner. After that he'd go to a barbershop and get a real hair cut. Then it was off to find a plastic surgeon who could get rid of the scar and that would operate without parental consent and join a gym. Then he'd be able to look in the mirror and see why people thought he looked like his father. James had been an athlete, but with the food to accompany the active lifestyle he was leaner instead of the stick figure that was Harry.

He sighed; it seemed that the events of his fourth year were acting in stages. Sometimes he was content, but bothered, other times he was damn miserable with a touch of guilt; though when he took the happiness drought he was giddy, but really sick of himself sometimes, and tired.

Hedwig gave a soft hoot, hopped down from her perch and nipped Harry on the ear. She could tell when he was depressed and lonely. She turned her head upside-down and watched the familiar smile force its way across her owner's face. Giving up with staying in the foul mood, Harry patted her and watched the sun rise. It was nowhere near the perfect life, but at least he still had Hogwarts.

"You miss Hogwarts, too?" he asked Hedwig, looking for anyone to talk to. The owl nodded as she did a tightrope act back up to her cage. "You just really want out of this room, don't you?" Again the owl nodded. "Well, I do have a letter for you. Give it to Ron; show him you can upstage Pig."

Hedwig had been given the motivation she needed and was suddenly very dignified in all her actions. She hopped down onto the desk and waited patiently as Harry wrote the letter, grooming her many feathers as she waited. Harry had come to realize that if he sounded sad in his letters then Hermione sent an encyclopedia of a cheer up lecture and would talk of nothing else, so he tried to make each letter sound light, less they worry about him and get too concerned about his well-being to send him information.

Dear Ron.

How are things going? It's slightly strange how the year after we help Snuffles, Professor Snape just happens to have an extra-long homework assignment for the poor saps who couldn't get unstuck from the floor fast enough to get out of the classroom. Did you notice that no one else (even Neville) had anything stuck to their shoes? Even Hermione, but I think that is because he knows she'd enjoy the homework.

I was going to ask her to do mine, but I figure he's waiting for that. So I'm going to do it and then type it up at the library. Er, that's the Muggle way to make a copy. That way if he pulls a "this looks like Ms. Granger's work so I'll rip it up and make you redo it," we'll be ready. Hey, I was wondering if there was any other form of communication that an underage wizard can use to contact someone. No offense, but this owl post is driving me bonkers.

I mean no insult to Hedwig, or any owl; but I want to hear someone's voice; even if it's a howler. By the way, if you send me a howler, please, please, please wait until after noon and tell me in advance so I can get out of the house and into an unpopulated area. I still haven't eaten that Bertie botts bean- yes, it scares me. No, I'm not ashamed- You wouldn't eat your half, either. It looks like pus, smells like pus, I'm not eating it.

How sure are you that Fred or George (or both) didn't make it especially for us? Could they make more so we can 'accidentally' get a certain Professor to eat one? Oh, and a few for Dudley. What kind of a cousin would I be if I didn't leave candy around for him? Thinking about it, I'm gonna be mad if this bean turns out to be vanilla ice-cream or frosting, or something like that. Then again, I'd rather see Dudley get a treat that I gave him, and not take the chance of eating pus myself… then again that's negotiable.

Nah, I'm still not eating it… get Percy to eat yours. If it's bad then I'll give my half to Dudley, if it's good I'll send you half of my half. Deal?

Harry

He finished the letter and gave it to Hedgwig, who bowed low and did her best to swoop off the desk and out the window in as graceful a movement as possible. Harry watched her go and smiled, walking to the loose floorboard under his bed and deciding this was a perfect excuse for eating the rest of the cake he'd been eating for the last three days. He took out a piece and ate happily, wishing he had milk. When he found that he still had half of the Devil's Food cake left he let out a chocolaty sigh and grinned as he heard Aunt Petunia screeching at him to come and eat breakfast.

Dudley was his usual larger-than-life self and was eyeing Harry's fruit salad with growing urgency. He flapped his thick tongue across his bloated lips and slobbered like a dog chewing on a rubber ball. Harry purposely stirred his fruit slowly with his fork, as if debating whither or not he was actually going to eat it. He took his eyes off the bowl as his walrus-like Uncle shook out the newspaper that was currently hiding his face.

Harry's aunt Petunia was craning her neck around in her usual manner, as if she expected someone important to show up any second. Harry gripped his fork tightly and stared at the clock. He'd been hoping that Sirius would have written by now and a soft coo of the bird would greet his ears, announcing the arrival of a letter that was thick with supportive words and claims of a 'good vacation.' Dudley took this opportunity to inch closer, glad his weaker adversary was not watching him.

He reached closer and Harry brought the fork down swiftly, barely missing Dudley's hand. It was clear he'd missed on purpose and as Dudley looked up he was greeted by an evil sneer. Harry knew the magic words that kept him from being punished when he fought Dudley off his food. 'Sirius mentioned I looked too thin.' Uttering that sentence would assure him a breakfast. Dudley would never be punished for his attempts as Uncle Vernon would just grunt something about 'Spartans in military camp were rewarded if they could steal food! Dudley is behaving to survive!'

Harry knew if Dudley was nicer he could have used this opportunity to make them both happy. A 'you convince your parents to take me shopping for REAL clothing and I'll let you steal my food at every meal' type of arrangement. However, the fearful look Dudley was giving him at the moment made up- in Harry's opinion- for one punch in the nose; so Harry thought of his current arrangement as free counseling. He picked out a piece of cantaloupe from the salad and examined it before biting into it and letting the sweet juice drip down his throat. Dudley whimpered like a begging puppy and something inside Harry erupted with joy.

He finished the melon and looked for the grape he knew was in there. His eyes locked onto it like a search missile. Dudley had heard 'grape' and thought of 'grape soda.' Therefore it became his favorite fruit. Harry picked up the grape, letting some of the juice drip down a prong of the fork and then quickly popped it into his mouth. Dudley let out the squeal of a suckling pig taken from its mother and threw his empty bowl at Harry's head. Harry ducked just in time and watched as Uncle Vernon was nearly stabbed by Dudley's fork as it was hurled through the air.

Petunia shrieked and quickly went to comfort her crying beluga whale and Harry took the opportunity to shove his bowl at Dudley and grab his glass of milk, retreating with it towards his room. He danced into his room, careful not to spill the drink, and hummed 'Ode to Joy' as he took out the chocolate cake. All thoughts of the dream he'd had, his chances of escaping the Dursley's being wrecked by Peter's escape, even the Death Eater that had seen Sirius were lost as he enjoyed his week-long celebration of cake and annoying his least favorite Seaworld attraction. Hermione had come through with a happiness drought she'd purchased the day after coming home and had quickly sent to Harry.

A bright flash of color blocked Harry's window and he looked up in time to see a giant bird, trying to get in. He leapt to his feet and reached his arm out the window for the bird to land in it. It did and Harry felt the massive weight and tight grip the bird had. He pulled it through the window and into the room, amazed it had fit. The bird deposited a coconut and a letter onto Harry's bed and went to get a drink from Hedwig's cage. It only needed to stretch its long neck to reach the water dish.

Harry stared at it for a few seconds, wondering where Remus lived that had such birds, before shrugging and dropping to the floor with the letter in hand. It read:

-Harry

If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times! No, there is never a wrong time for an explosion.

Harry was used to these sorts of opening lines as they served as easy amusement and anyone who intercepted the letter would think Harry had known the person for a longer time then he actually had or had even attended school with the person.

Well, I'm enjoying my vacation and am looking forward to seeing you at school

(Another line put in to throw off suspicion.)

I figure that you're probably still worried about the girl, but forget her. She's probably just a daughter of someone in Azkaban. That lot is bound to be a bit off. Moony said to tell you (if you asked, but I'm not waiting because I'm not his year-round messenger boy) that you probably have a better idea of where his dog ran off to then she does, so there are no worries.

Now, that statement will probably get you thinking 'what are we all smoking?' I don't know, but it might have something to do with Hagrid's "special" brownies. I hope you're having a good summer and the Dursley's aren't giving you too much trouble. If they are, let me know. Your owl is very devoted, but if she pecks me again for trying to send one of the birds here back instead of her she'll wake up spray painted orange.

I heard dear Snape's being a class act git. Though I also got a two page long lecture to leave him along from your friend Hermione; something about a bucking broom? Wanna explain that? Anyway, things are going just fine here so don't worry. I want to hear that you've done something fun before the summer is over or I'm sending a complaint form to your aunt and uncle. How's the cake? I was assured that it was the best they made. Buckbeak says hi, he's enjoying the rats and I must say that my day is just a bit brighter when watching him dig into a juicy rat. I'll have to send a picture.

-Snuffles.

Folding up the letter, Harry wondered how many other people had received a happiness draught from Hermione. And so a week passed until suddenly it was taking a longer tome to get a reply from Ron and Hermione. They also seemed to be together and every letter was now useless as far as information went. Harry got the same response from Sirius. Upon the loss of his Godfather's constant letters, Harry's treatment from the Dursley's became almost intolerable.

He began moping around the house, feeling the full weight of what had happened. Everyone acted like he'd be a cry-baby, though all he wanted was to snap into action and stop Voldemort before he killed more innocent people. Harry sighed deeply and decided to go watch the news with a strange hope that someone had been attacked. Yet his mind still traveled back to the night he'd seen the girl. Sirius and Remus were acting very strange and Harry knew something was up.

(Pretty much the same thing that is said in the book is said here and so we move on to the station. I'm trying to keep things fast as no one will read both stories if they're too long.)

Across the street from King's cross was a new age magic shop. Only it was designed to make those who hated that sort of thing merely see a shop that didn't look like it held anything they needed, while people into the new age magic saw a palace of useful items and trinkets and charms. That way no one bothered them about being there. It was a simple trick, but worked wonders against rioters who seemed to believe that if they protested the shop, they could rid the world of the thing they were jealous of. Magic.

Every year, there she sat, resting her head on her hands and waiting for them to arrive. One in particular she had taken a liking to for he was like her in many different ways. He seemed to like magic, as she'd seen a spell book once. He seemed to be alone in a world of people. She had noticed that he seemed set apart even among his friends. His parents didn't seem to like magic at all and shunned him for it. Hers saw it as a business and left her to actually know what everything did.

Once a man had come in, dressed in a pinstriped cloak, and asked her parents to tell him about the stuff in the store, saying if they didn't know then they shouldn't have them. She had answered the question and her parents said 'see, if our child knows them, then surely we do!' But that had been at the other store. This one had been here for seven years and she had been so alone until she had seen him. His parents drove away laughing and he had glanced back and then she'd felt it. He was magical, as was she! But she felt her magic was somehow different from his. He had a determined, yet desperate look on his face as he looked back at the two platforms.

She watched him for a while, what caught her attention most was the snowy white owl he had with him. That meant he was one of them. She was not allowed out of the shop much, because of her gift, so she had never came to know any of them. She gave them names, made up stories about them, and looked forward to seeing them. However, she never joined. It wasn't because she didn't think they'd accept her, it was more along the lines of not wanting to join. She was slightly afraid of these people… all except one. She smiled as the plump older woman stepped into view. She called this woman Maia, which means good mother.

Maia was a good mother and had a lot of children, all with red hair. She saw the twins and watched as their friend strode over, waiting to see what new thing they had invented. She looked down at the parcel, then up again at the group as he stepped into view. A smile snuck its way across her mouth and pulled her lips. Then she saw it.

"Procel? Is it your image I see on him?" The girl asked, though no one was in the room. "I have seen Seere watch him once," she stated, waiting for some answer, some clue as to why that boy was being watched so carefully. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers across the pendant on her necklace. The girl let out a sigh and shook her head, "oh, why won't you answer me?"

She stared back out the window as the boy laughed with two friends of his. She wanted to join the world he and his friends lived in, but only if she was sure they would mix with her beliefs. "Can you here me?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the boy. "Please, hear me. Talk back," she commanded… Nothing.

She supposed that he hadn't accepted his magic fully yet. For if he had then they would have been able to sense each other. She would have been able to contact him. Yet she never heard his voice. Even now with the correct symbols on the floor, with candles in the four cardinal directions and the runes of summoning, he did not respond. It was as if he couldn't feel it. The girl sighed and made a wish for the three to enter the store, yet again it failed.

She could feel it though, some grand emptiness in his heart. A giant hole. "There's something missing there," she whispered, staring fixedly at the boy. She heard a thud from upstairs, probably her mother dropping the last of the bourbon. This gave her time. She jumped up and grabbed a few more items from the shelves. Then she snatched up her tape recorder and plopped back into the center of the pentagram. She quickly created the magic circle and set the tape recorder on the window.

She propped the window open slightly and pressed play. The all too familiar sound of a school bell rang forth from the tape player. The one thing she'd noticed most about the boy was that he reacted differently than the others. Well, besides that girl with the frizzy brown hair. Her plan worked and the boy looked up in puzzlement. The girl also stopped.

They knew there were no schools nearby. The boy was the first to look over as the girl threw the herbal arrangement into the large northern candle. A puff of magenta smoke erupted with a few sparks and swirled counter clockwise around her. She locked eyes with him and immediately felt a wave of anticipation. Not her own… but his. She felt anxiety and slight depression. He was keeping a secret. Another wave passed over and she felt another sensation; a desire to be treated as an equal and not as a child. Images began flashing before her eyes and she stared at them all in amazement.

Trying to see everything, but becoming dizzy in the whirl of pictures. A golden ball- a giant snake- a reflection- a mirror of people who looked somewhat like the boy, with a blur between the two parents in the front- eyes peaking out of a turban- a grand field seen from above-A train- then- The girl fell backwards and a queasiness dropped into her stomach like a cold, heavy rock. She quickly gave in to the uneasiness and closed her eyes as all the images flooded together and she felt three emotions that were so deep, she doubted the boy even felt them anymore.

Desperate sadness, like what comes from a sudden, alarming death of a family member… members probably, as there was loneliness within the grief. Then love. A very strong love… or more like a longing for something, or someone. This was followed by guilt and worry mixed together with the sadness. Depression, longing, guilt. From long, long ago. She heard a cry, the voice was sweet, though it seemed desperate; it echoed hauntingly:

'I'm with you Lion!'

(Ahem, hey guys, down here! It's time again for my Just-So-You-Know, section. Today we shall cover Procel and Seere. PROCEL, appears in the form of an angel. SEERE- a mighty prince, appearing in the form of a beautiful man on a strong winged horse. On a final note: I do not include many details so magickal spells as too much controversy arises. Instead I ask that you accept the rituals in this story as dramatized. I have researched each individual source (runes, symbols, herbs, ect.) but do not wish to include fully real spells incase someone out there copies them and gets more than they can handle and promptly sues me. Heh heh, I got five dollars, don't bother suing. On that note. The characters in the HP books belong to (duh) the author of said books and only new characters belong to me, but you know that as this is a fanfic. )