A/n: I don't own Harry Potter and he doesn't own me.

Feeling like he was ten again and Dudley was trying to flush his head down the toilet, Harry slowly began to get his bearings back. He could feel the light stinging his eyes. His ears filled with an unidentifiable buzzing sound. At the very least he had survived the bonding ritual and so he figured now would be as good a time as any to assess the damage he may have caused himself. His fingers responded, as did his toes; A good sign. He tried to open his eyes to no avail; his eyelids were crusted over, much like a Conjunctivitis Curse. After some scratching he was able to pry his eyelids apart enough to see his surroundings. He lie in his bed, his arms and neck covered in bandages, his glasses and wand were placed on the small table beside his bed. He instinctively reached for his glasses and put them on. Much better. On the opposite side Cyric sat asleep in a comfortable looking chair. Not wanting to risk moving too much Harry decided he best wake the sleeping man.

"Cyric." Said Harry sitting up in his bed.

"Cyric." He tried again this time shaking Cyric's shoulder.

With a sudden jerk Cyric sat up and a loud piercing noise rang out. Without warning Cyric's body began to melt slowly before Harry's eyes. If he hadn't been so shocked at the time Harry might have found the sight of this humorous in a weird sort of way. Just as the body disappeared Harry's door burst open and the real Cyric entered and sat in the Chair.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" asked Cyric.

"Bloody hell what just happened?" asked Harry still not over the melted doppelganger.

"Oh that. I transfigured an ice cube into me whilst I took a quick shower. I also charmed it to alert me if you woke up. I must be a little rusty, so it just melted huh?" Said Cyric.

"So. You feeling alright?"

"Er yea so far." Answered Harry. "I guess I've been out awhile." It was more of a question then a statement.

"Ay. You've been under for three days now." Said Cyric.

"Why does my head hurt so much?" asked Harry.

"It's just a side effect. It passes, don't worry."

"Good I've had enough headaches to last a lifetime." Said Harry, rubbing his temples.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously you just did." Said Cyric smiling.

Ignoring this comment Harry continued. "I know what compelled me to attempt this but why did you?

The smile vanished from Cyric's face instantly. He stared at Harry for several moments as if considering whether or not he wished to divulge the truth to him.

"To try to revive the dead Harry." This answer was not what Harry was expecting Cyric to say, and so Harry's jaw went slack and hung loosely open.

"Let me explain." Said Cyric. "There are whispers and fragments of failed experiments of others who had attempted this very idea in various books throughout Hogwarts' restricted section in the library; even more in various books on the Dark Arts and Ancient Magic. I figured by what I already knew on the subject and passages from numerous books that some had actually come close. Not only would I gain the individual knowledge from those texts, but also that particular bonding ritual organizes everything for easier transference into your soul. So you see, if all of that information was so neatly organized then surely I'd be able to figure out what the next step should be. A few new spells of my own invention, perhaps a potion or two and just maybe I could achieve it at last."

"You sound like Voldemort. He spoke like that when he was explaining to the Death Eaters how he was able to get his body back. Afraid to die are you?" interrupted Harry.

A flicker of anger crossed Cyric's visage only to be replaced with a look of passive annoyance that can often be seen on a teacher who is dealing with an impetuous student.

"No. I'm quite sure you can understand how a boy can yearn for those that were taken from him unfairly. I wanted terribly to bring back my parents." Said Cyric, continuing as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…It's just"

"That's quite alright Harry. That is in fact the real reason I was drawn to Alchemy. And for a while that dream died. Then several years ago, right after Nicholas' death actually, Albus sent me the Mirror of Erised. I saw my parents beside my reflection when I gazed into it. This once again fueled my desire to bring them back. After all, the mirror does show you your deepest desire. I've spent years hunting the world for anything that could possibly aid me. Needless to say I failed. And when Albus found out the lengths to which I had journeyed in my Quest he took the mirror away. I believe his exact words of wisdom were (It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.)"

"Yea. He said the same thing to me when I found it in my first year." Said Harry, thinking back on his experience with the Mirror of Erised, and how he and Cyric had the same desire.

"Well then you already know the torment that bloody mirror can inflict on an already wounded heart. Until I received Albus' request that I remove you from your relatives I haven't left this town since it was taken away. I only leave these mountains to go catch a Quidditch game. I haven't even visited my sister. I believe he wished you to help me learn to live for myself. Maybe in my helping you I just might find something to show me what I'm missing." Finished Cyric, staring at the wall behind Harry as if it were about to open, revealing everything he ever needed.

"Er why are my arms bandaged?" asked Harry trying to break Cyric from his trance.

"It might be better to show you. Said Cyric standing up. He drew his wand from inside his robes and with one wave caused the robes to disappear. His bare chest was visible and upon it was a tangle of scars that surrounded the place Harry knew the human heart to be, they spread around each side just below his chest. As he turned around he could se they connected at the spine and wove their way up towards his neck even above the three long scars that Voldemort had given to him. At the base was the original scar, which all the others branched from. Harry couldn't believe his eyes a lightning-bolt shaped scar just like the one that resided on his own forehead.

"You have the same scar as me!" exclaimed Harry in total disbelief.

"Ay. And you acquired another one as well from this. That particular scar used to be very common. Many type of ancient magic used to cause that particular curse scar. In fact I'm almost positive that some type of inadvertent curse happened as Voldemort tried to kill you. Due to the protection from your mother it allowed him to mark you as his equal. It was accidental magic that caused this, old magic. Pureblood Wizards and witches used to due this to their children to give them an edge over muggleborns. However that was millennia ago; I doubt that any even remember the process." Said Cyric conjuring another dark black robe and putting it on.

"Great just what I need more scars for people to gawk at." Said Harry, lying back down.

"On the bright side, your robes will cover these ones at least." Said Cyric, putting on a fake smile. "Well no more questions; you must be famished." With a single wave of his wand Cyric produced a plate of waffles and toast, and some juice.

Harry's hunger took over and he tore into the food with a ferocious vigor. Each time he finished the plate it would refill itself and so Harry had three helpings before he was full.

"It was good I assume." Asked Cyric, receiving a nod in response. Reaching into his pocket Cyric produced two small vials; the first filled with a thick blue liquid the other was empty. He placed them both on the small table, vanished the food and removed the stopper from the empty vial.

"I'm going to test your magic to see that it is undamaged and then I want you to take this sleeping draught. If you check out I will come back and seal those cursed wounds and tomorrow when you wake, we can begin the real training. Alright?" said Cyric.

"O.k."

"Good. Now I need you to place the index finger of your wand hand on the tip of my wand." Harry did so. "Excellent. This is going to hurt a little so brace yourself." He wasn't kidding. Harry felt a horrible sensation in his chest as if something was being ripped from it without it being cut first. The sensation soon dissipated only to be replaced with a traveling itch that slowly made its way down his right arm and to the tip of Cyric's wand. A tiny prick, and his fingertip began to ooze droplets of blood. Cyric reached for the empty vial and caught each drop until the vial was a third of the way full. Removing both the vial and wand from Harry's fingertip caused the skin to knit itself back together.

"Well it looks fine so far." Said Cyric gazing at the contents as it swirled around in the tiny glass container. Unlike normal blood however this had a shimmer to it as if it were filled with glitter. Cyric pocketed the vial, crossed the room and left.

After a quick examination of his finger; noting that no scar was visible; Harry downed the blue liquid in one gulp. Like every other potion he'd ever taken, this one tasted horrible. Minutes after lying back down on his pillow, Harry was asleep.

Harry was dreaming peacefully about flying on his Firebolt when the broom suddenly lurched, hurling him off. He fell towards the ground with surprising speed; just as he was about to hit the floor the ground opened up engulfing Harry in total darkness. He was no longer falling however, it felt more like floating. A small area of light opened up, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness, but he could see flashes of different images. Ginny's face contorted in agony, streaked with tears, a silent scream. Next, leaves on a tree, covered in dew, surrounded by an unnaturally thick fog. Lupin speaking but Harry couldn't hear the words, then a flash of green light. It jumped to a gathering of redheaded people, dressed in all black, standing beside two black headstones. These however Harry could see quite clearly. They were engraved in a fine golden script the first one read:

Ginevra Molly Weasley August, 1981-July, 1996

Beloved Sister and Daughter

The other:

William Arthur Weasley November, 1971-August, 1996

Beloved Son, Brother and Fiancée

A male voice, distorted slightly so that Harry couldn't identify the speaker.

"A terrible shame really. Bill was a brilliant man and truly blessed. Ginny's death had been too much…(indiscernible words) used the killing curse on himself, it was her birthday…blamed himself due to his condition."

Harry woke up in a cold sweat. The sun was just rising over the mountains visible from Harry's window. That dream had been terrible. Why didn't he give me a dreamless sleep potion? Rubbing the sleep from his eyes Harry noticed his bandages had been removed. He could see the raised vine-like scars that covered his arms down to the wrists.He tried to stand but his legs gave out on him sending him back onto his bed. Trying again, ignoring the stinging sensation in his legs Harry stood, and headed for the shower, which he assumed would do him a world of good.

Cyric had cleared the entire room and had Harry trying over and over again to master the Imperious curse. Each time Harry tried however produced the same result. Nothing. He understood how to do it perfectly well enough. He just couldn't apply enough mental concentration. Perhaps it was the fact that Cyric was the subject that he was trying to control. Cyric had axed the idea of using an animal straight away seeing as it would take less to control a rat then a person. Doing his best to focus on having total control of Cyric Harry aimed his wand at him.

"Imperio." The sensation that overcame Harry was quite intense; he could see Cyric's eyes were glazed over. His excitement at actually performing the curse caused his concentration to slip and he felt Cyric break away from the connection.

"Good Harry. Again." Said Cyric.

"Imperio." Said Harry. This time when he felt the curse take effect he focused on the word Dance. And indeed that is exactly what happened. Right before his very eyes Cyric broke into a box step with an imaginary partner. Harry could barely contain his laughter and he felt the connection waiver. Focusing as hard as he could he was able to retain the curse however Cyric was no longer dancing. Kneel. As soon as Harry thought it Cyric obeyed. Throw me your wand. Still down on one knee Cyric obediently pulled out his wand and tossed it to Harry. Any struggle to hold the curse was now gone. It seemed the longer somebody was under it, the less they fought it. Harry pocketed both wands. Bring me an apple. Without so much as a second thought Cyric got up and left the room, most certainly in search of an apple. Harry leaned against the wall and waited. Sure enough minutes later when Cyric returned it was with an apple in hand which he promptly gave to Harry. Feeling a little like Fred and George Harry pulled out his own wand Harry cast a charm on Cyric causing his hair to turn blonde, before growing up in a Beehive hair-do. Harry's laughter was uncontrollable and so he removed the curse and took a bite of the apple.

"That was excellent Harry, what's so funny?" asked Cyric looking quite puzzled. Harry conjured a mirror and threw it to Cyric who promptly caught it only to see his reflection; slowly his hand patted the thick hair. "Ha-Ha" Cyric reached into his robes and his hand came out empty handed. He patted his robes with both hands.

"Can I have my wand back?" asked Cyric in an exasperated voice. He sighed deeply. "Accio wand." Said Cyric extending his hand and catching the wand that shot from Harry's pocket.

"I wouldn't use that if I were you." Said Harry hoping against hope that he would.

"Finite." Said Cyric pointing his wand at his hair. Instead of undoing the charm the wand turned into a rubber chicken that hung limply from his hand; which he then threw across the room as it turned back into a wand. Harry tossed his real wand to him. "Finite." His hair returned to normal.

"Now I hate to rain on your parade but we're not done yet." Said Cyric, his expression unreadable. He raised his wand "Avis." Several twittering, white birds came shooting from the wand's tip. With a long sweeping motion a perch appeared and Cyric directed the birds onto it with a flick of his wand. "You've mastered the Imperious Curse and I've seen you successfully cast the Cruciatus. I believe it might only take you one day to pull off every Unforgivable Harry."

"No. I'm not ready yet." Said Harry, his right arm dropped beside him.

"When will you be ready Harry? It will be too late to learn the next time you face him. I know this is difficult. I realize more than you know, how unfair it is to have no choice but to end the life of another. The heart that beats within this chest is no longer pure. I've killed, sadly for much less than to save the lives of the innocent. You must remember that there is no real good or evil, no black and white. The nature of humans is preservation, whether it be selfish or selfless is a choice we must all make. I ask this task, perhaps the worst one I have yet beseeched of you, because I have faith in you Harry. I have faith that you will never want to use this curse, and yet still you will, you will cast the killing curse, neither with ill intent nor malice upon the meek. You Harry will do it to put a stop to the truly wicked that walk this earth, to end the suffering of your people both Wizard and Muggle alike. You are an avenger, much like myself, it has been predestined that one of your will kill the other. I have faith Harry, that when the time comes you will not falter under this burden, I have faith that you will stand proud and face him like a man, like our fathers did, I have faith that it will be you who ensures that no other child must grow up alone as an orphan because of the maleficent deeds of Lord Voldemort." Said Cyric, striding towards Harry as he spoke.

"What makes you think I can do it?" asked Harry.

"Faith Harry, just Faith." Answered Cyric.

"Why though?" asked Harry, hoping to get a real answer.

"Your heart bleeds for so many. Your love for your friends, the love you feel for your family a decade and a half since their passing. The sympathy that you feel for these birds that come from my magic not even from an egg, the compassion for all living things that you are barely aware that you possess. For these reasons Harry, Albus believed in you as do I that you are capable of something no man Wizard or not has ever been capable of, embracing the darkness within, succumbing to it in it's entirety and using it to do good. To be able to walk in darkness and shine brighter than the sun that is your gift. That is why I place my faith in you Harry. Learning to cast this curse is a step into darkness, yet for you it is a leap towards what is right, not what is easy. Show me Harry that my faith, Albus' faith and the faith of your parents was not misplaced. You know that emotion drives this curse. For Voldemort it is a selfish and cowardly emotion that fuels it, what will be the emotion that powers yours Harry? What is it that you wish to fight for? Capture the emotion that drives you Harry, capture it, focus it and use it, not for evil but for perhaps the ultimate good. Harry raised his wand. Harry, show me just how much of the power he knows not you possess. He drew it back.

"Avada Kedavra!"

For the fourth night in a row Harry awoke in a cold sweat, each dream the same as before. Each night he saw the headstones of both the eldest and youngest of the Weasley children. Although his scar didn't hurt Harry believed Voldemort had something to do with the cause of his nightmares. He just needed to figure out what. Deciding that now was as good a time as any, Harry rose from his bed, dressed and left his room heading in the direction of the dining room. As Harry made his way down the long Hallway from the foot of the staircase he noticed a door he'd never seen was ajar. Natural curiosity got the better of him and so he poked his head into the open space to get a better look. What he saw was just a little shocking. It was a tiny room painted entirely in a pale blue. Inside there was a crib, empty save for a lone teddy bear that looked as if it had been made centuries ago. Floating above the crib in a circular formation were tiny golden birds he'd only seen in a book. They were snidgets, and although there was no arm or wires Harry assumed it was the magical equivalent to a Muggle mobile. Along the wall there was a dresser and a locked chest. Standing beside the lone window was Cyric gazing out of it.

"As much as I have already seen in my short life I have never seen something as beautiful as the sun as it rises slowly over the Scottish mountains." Said Cyric, not removing his gaze from the window.

"I have." Said Harry, coming over to join Cyric near the window and admire the sunrise.

"And just what may I ask was that?" asked Cyric, redirecting his gaze upon the young man next to him.

Only then did Harry realize he should have kept his mouth shut. "Ginny Weasley."

"Bill would most likely agree with you on that one Harry. He loves Ginny like no other. Those two have a special bond between them despite their difference in age."

"Speaking of them, I've been having the same dream about them since the ritual." Said Harry.

"What about?"

"Their deaths actually." Answered Harry, still pondering the meaning behind this nightmare. "The only other time I had visions like these was when I was peering into Voldemort's thoughts through our connection. After you recovered, did you have any premonitions or visions?"

"Not that I remember. You know it might just be a reoccurring nightmare. Most likely you were so frightened the first time that your subconscious is forcing you to confront it" Said Cyric.

"I hope so."

"Well, we'll see them both soon enough," said Cyric.

"Yea I guess. Can I ask you what is this place?" asked Harry, inquiring about the room in which they both stood.

"This was the nursery that Nicholas made after he learned that his wife Perenelle was carrying their first child a baby boy."

"I didn't know they had any children." Said Harry.

"That would be because they didn't. Sadly there was a miscarriage and they both felt that the pain they suffered was too great to risk going through again. On his deathbed Nicholas confessed to me that this was his greatest regret in life." Said Cyric, with a solemn note in his voice.

"Why are you in here?" asked Harry.

"To dwell on the dreams of a lonely man, both for his past and his future. Ones that I believe I will never grasp." With a heavy sigh, Cyric tore himself from the windowsill. "Shall we get some breakfast then?"

A cool breeze was blowing, the leaves rustling with the force of the gale; yet it was still a warm night despite the chilling mist that crept around the wood. A lone redheaded, young woman, sat with her back on against a tall oak. Ginny Weasley had sought refuge from the tumultuous happenings of the Burrow. The least of which, the incessant ramblings of her soon to be sister in law, Phlegm.

After returning home several weeks ago, Ginny found it difficult to stay cheerful for long. The whole of the Wizarding world was somber after Headmaster Dumbledore's death and she was no exception to this being a Witch herself. Add to that the fact that her eldest brother Bill is still recovering from his injury caused by some werewolf who attacks children. She would love to find the one responsible, make him suffer for his crimes, torture him for hurting her brother and family. She wouldn't need silver to kill him; her bare hands would suffice, she thought viciously.

This war was going badly for the Weasleys thus far, seeing as every member was involved in some way or another. Everyone except Ron and her were full-fledged members of the Order of the Phoenix, blood traitors to boot. Never mind already losing Percy. Unless she was very much mistaken her youngest brother would be undertaking the most dangerous task of any of the Weasleys, alongside her boyfriend and best-friend. She didn't know what said task entails aside from Tom's demise. But if Harry, Ron and Hermione couldn't succeed then Ginny was certain nobody could.

So Ginny had a lot on her mind, but to put the proverbial icing on the cake, Phlegm hasn't gone ten minutes without either announcing that she is to spend her days in the arms of the love of her life, (Lucky prat) droning on and on about plans for the wedding, and lastly asking if "'arry Potter will be 'ere for 'er special day."

Ginny decided to escape into the wood near the Burrow, so as not to rip out Phlegm's vocal cords and strangle her to death before 'er special day.

The cracking of a twig awoke her from her reverie. Taking a look around she realized it was long past dusk and decided as bothersome as the Burrow might be just now, she'd probably be better off there, rather then sitting alone in a dark wood lit only by the stars and moonlight. As Ginny headed home she noticed the mist had began to thicken, obstructing her view, save for a few feet in front of her face. The wind abruptly changed direction with a bitterly chilly gust that blew her hair about her face. Any rational Gryffindor would have done exactly as she had done that very moment, and broke into a run, heading towards home.

The hair on the back of her neck was standing on end now; she had gone maybe forty yards when she heard the growl. Turning around she could see nothing, yet knew exactly what had made the sound. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, her right hand sweaty from the grip she had on her wand. She was running faster and more furiously than ever before in her life.

The wood opened up into a small clearing before her. She was halfway home, her lungs on fire, and a stitch in her side. She didn't dare stop to catch her breath but she dared a glance over her shoulder, she'd never make it home. A root caught her foot, sending her sprawling on her stomach into the dirt. Hot saliva splattered her shoulder and neck; the beast had lunged past her as she fell missing her by inches. She rose to her feet, wand raised two seconds too late. Ginny Weasley embraced death as the werewolf lunged towards her a second time.

A/N: Please Review