A/N: Whoop! I had so much fun writing this chapter as it ushers in the main action of this fan fic! Thanks for staying with it this far I know it's been quite slow lately but all will now be revealed, (and I mean that in more ways than one) anyway, 8th chapter up!

Disclaimer: What? You're looking for the rights to Harry Potter? I'm sorry, you must be mistaken, I don't have them. In fact, I've never seen them. Yes, I'm sorry you wasted you're time. This? On my computer screen?…oh…erm…that's nothing! No, I don't see any Harry Potter related stories on there…MERLIN'S BEARD! What's that over there? Yes, over there, where I'm pointing just-runs towards the door laughing manically.

Discovery, Darkness and Eulogies

Everyone in the Burrow was wearing black, or almost. Molly was still trying to wrestle Teddy into a set of robes with Ginny's help when Bill apparated with a crack into the kitchen. Ron was talking to Hermione by the radio in the hushed tones that everyone seemed to need to use at any time during, preceding, or just after a funeral.

"Ron, a word if you don't mind," Bill addressed his youngest brother in a mutter as he brushed past, Ron looked up, surprised, and followed him into the living-room dragging Hermione with him. "It's about this Lysander guy," Bill started but Ron held up his hand,

"I'll get Ginny."

"Do you really think she needs to hear it? What with everything else isn't it just going to make things worse for her?" Ron considered this for a moment,

"She deserves to know, she would want to."

He went back to the kitchen, "Ginny, can we talk to you?" Ginny looked round from trying to hold Teddy's arms still while Molly tugged, "Oh, sure, are you alright here Mum?" Molly nodded.

"So, what's this about?"

"Lysander Reubels," Hermione explained.

"Percy couldn't find anything about him, which is odd in itself, the ministry always has some sought of information about a witch or wizard, Percy's stumped, he's never come up on a blank before," Bill looked at them, they were listening intently,

"So I ask some questions at the bank, I'd never heard of this guy before but a goblin that works there told me he comes in quite regularly, about once every two months, and he told me what he looks like," he paused.

"And?" asked Hermione eagerly,

"Well, I've already seen him."

"What?" Ron frowned, "You mean Lysander?"

"Yes, a man bumped into us when I met Fleur and Mum and Dad at Gringotts a couple of weeks ago, quite a distinctive looking guy and he acted really strange when he saw us too."

"But how could you know for sure-"

Bill licked his lips, "The thing is, the guy matched exactly the description this Goblin gave me, so I looked up that last time Lysander Reubels took money out of his vault, it was the day the guy bumped into us, it must've have been him, he's too strange looking for it to be coincidence."

"Strange looking how?" asked Hermione warily,

Bill gave them a brief description of the blonde with the odd but expensive clothes. "But that still doesn't tell us what his connection to Harry is," Ginny pointed out.

"It's all really suspicious…"

"Yeah, you should've seen the way he acted when he bumped into us; he looked at us like we had three heads or something."

Just then Molly bustled into the room, "It's time to go dears," she said quietly, now her practical qualities couldn't be put to good use she was forced to dwell on the service ahead. It was the same for all of them, they could wonder about the mysterious stranger all they wanted, but they had to get through the funeral first. Hermione gave Ginny a supportive hug, which she returned gratefully, and they all trudged out of the Burrow.

Godrics Hollow lay under a grey and swirling sky; leaves long withered and fallen from trees were drawn by the wind around the square as a figure hurried across it. It did not stop to glance at the old War Memorial that hid something else, nor at the scenery surrounding it that brought back memories of a dark night with Hermione.

When he had finally caved in to the treacherous voice at the not-so-back of his mind he had become resolute, there was no going back now, he told himself, pulling on a hooded cloak and making sure the disguising spell was firmly in place. But it was this resolution he now felt dissolving as he approached the church, he could see wizards and witches entering in black robes, heads bowed, the quiet shuffling of feet and murmured conversations.

Was this really the right thing to do? Had he gone too far in convincing himself that this was his time to saying goodbye? Or was this just a desperate attempt to hold on to the life he knew could no longer be his, an attempt that would only end up hurting him more? He hesitated, but if he turned around and walked off now he would feel as if he had failed. Clutching his cloak around him, head bowed, he walked through the gates and the sturdy wooden door of the church before settling quietly at the very back, in a small, shadowed pew.

He glanced around furtively at the people who had turned up to remember him. The church had a heavy, ancient feeling about it, made more prominent by the whisperings of those occupying it. He tried hard not to look at the front pew, where he knew a row of fiery heads would sit. The church was packed, many of the occupants were people he had known from school, he was sure almost his entire old Gryffindor house was there, and most of the Hogwarts teachers too.

Harry felt completely disconnected as he watched the scene unfold before him. He supposed this was another form of self-preservation, as everything seemed detached, as if he was watching it on television. As the people of his life walked past, and quite a few he had never met too, he could only seem to muster a faint sense of curiosity and unease.

He was pulled out of his reverie by an usher leaning across the pew before him. "Excuse me sir, but could you take another seat? This pew is going to be needed for the ushers." Harry muttered in growl "I don't think so." And gave the poor man such a venomous look that he immediately backed away, "Fine." Harry heard him say under his breath, "You're funeral," this kind of horribly cliché irony was already lost on Harry as the service began.

But the unease had been growing without notice, and as the priest stood up to begin it took a rapid lurch up the scale. This was wrong, this was not right. He could feel it seeping through his every pore, his stared hard at his shoes again, trying to block out the words, the scene, everything. What had he been thinking coming here? He noticed Flitwick, his tiny balding head barely reaching over the top of a pew a few in front of him, and took this as yet another reason to add to his mounting discomfort. If the charms teacher saw him what would he think about the mysterious Lysander Reubels appearing at Harry Potter's funeral?

He knew he had to leave.

Bill scanned the rows behind him, seeing if they were almost ready to begin, and froze.

"That's him!" he whispered to Ron, who was staring resolutely ahead of him, seemingly trying to ignore his location. This however made him jump back to reality.

"What?"

"Lysander Reubels is currently sitting at the back of the church," said Bill quietly, "I'd recognise him anywhere." Ron and Hermione, who had also heard this remark stared at him, Ron rather untactfully swivelled round, craning his neck. "Where?" he whispered frantically.

"The blonde guy about your age, wearing a cloak, haunted look."

"I see him!" Hermione said excitedly as Ron caught sight of him also.

"What is he doing here?"

"Coming to pay his respects to Harry, clearly, whatever his connection to him."

"But this is our chance to find out!"

"We'll have to wait until the end of the service." With this remark from Hermione Ron was returned from his excitement. It was too easy to get caught up in his curiosity, especially when it helped you forget where you were, and your painful situation. He slumped back into his silent staring after muttering to himself, "First thing, though, we have to talk to him…"

But he could not help himself keep glancing back at the stranger. He did it so many times that he worked out if he turned his head, as if examining the pillar beside him; he could see the figure of Lysander Reubels just out of the corner of his eye. And something was wrong.

Harry's agitation had reached it's peak. He was staring determinedly at the ground, the ceiling, his hands, anything but the scene around him. He did not hear the priest's words, nor did under any circumstances want to. His shifted in his seat, feeling a sweat of apprehension break out over him. He glanced at the doors; no-one would notice if he slipped out now, would they? He could be gone without anyone noticing to the freedom of the forest where his tent still sat. Hagrid suddenly gave a loud howl of sorrow from a couple of pews down, his face buried in a large handkerchief. This was more than Harry could take.

He got up to go to the door.

Ron saw the young man's disquiet grow quickly. It seemed as if the funeral was becoming some kind of unbearable torture. Why would the service have such an effect on him? Which brought Ron back to the question, what was his connection with Harry? People were beginning to get upset now; Ron looked down the pew to see Molly sobbing loudly, Arthur comforting her. Hermione was trying to wipe her eyes with a shaking hand, and Ginny was sitting with Teddy, a silent trickle of tears falling.

He knew he should be comforting Hermione, he reached out a hand to lay on her shoulder but turned instead to glance at the blonde again, his agitation becoming more pronounced by the second. What was wrong with him? Why could he not let this obsession go? Instead of mourning Harry he could only feel a small sense of hope amid his burning curiosity.

Ah, hope, so that was it. This was connected with his stubbornness to let Harry go. He seemed to subconsciously believe that this Lysander was some kind of miracle sent to halt the inevitable. He's not coming back. He told himself, but the burning curiosity still reigned. He turned his head, trying to see the man again, only to catch a glimpse of him getting up to leave.

No.

This was what he internally shouted. Obsessive or not. Deluded or otherwise. The need to find out the truth was still there. On an impulsive, uncontrollable body movement, Ron stood up and left the pew in as unobtrusive way as possible, ignoring the looks of sympathy from the rest of the occupants of the church, and striding as quickly as possible down the middle aisle towards the door. He broke out into a run a few feet from it.

Hermione looked frantically at Bill, worry clouding her eyes as Ron disappeared through the door. Bill nodded to her, got up equally inconspicuously and followed him.

Outside Harry did not feel at all relieved. The anxiety was still mounting within him as he hurried through the gates of the church.

"Hey! You!"

Harry spun around, his cloak swirling like a fallen autumn leaf beneath the grey sky as he saw Ron Weasley hurrying after him. Terror struck Harry like a sledgehammer; he whirled back around and began sprinting as fast as he could.

Ron stared on in disbelief; there was something wrong about that guy. Why the hell would he run? But the look of absolute terror on his face had been enough to convince Ron that he had something to hide. He set off after the man who called himself Lysander. Ignoring Bill calling his name as he, too, emerged from the church.

"Ron! Come back! What are you doing?" With an exasperated grunt he began following the two figures running away from him.

Lysander sped across the square, his cloak fanning out behind him but Ron was close on his heels. The cloaked man suddenly took a right, clearly frantic with desperation. He was met with a dead end alley. His breath came in heavy gasps as he turned to face the red-haired wizard. Ron could see the man's face shining with sweat, his hollow eyes staring out from beneath the fringe of blonde hair.

"I just want to talk to you," said Ron sternly, on seeing the panicked look on the other wizard's face he was sure he was about to do something rash. Sure enough, he whipped out his wand, pointing it with shaking fingers at Ron just as Bill reached the end of the alley.

"You don't need to do this…" said Ron calmly, using his auror skills, Bill ran up with his wand out.

"You see, you can't do anything to one of us without the other hexing you, put you're wand down, we're not going to hurt you, we just want to ask you some questions."

"Please," said the man with such pain in his voice that Ron stared, "Just let me go." But when Ron and Bill did not budge he raised his wand, "EX-"

"STUPEFY!" Bill and Ron hit him simultaneously with the same curse.

Harry did not know what he had planned to do with his wand. All he could feel was the mixture of panic, fear and pain roaring inside him. Seemingly unable to control his arm he lifted his wand; not knowing what he was doing, and began to yell a disarming spell. But Ron and Bill were too quick, he felt a stab of pain, something pound against his chest, and then he slumped to the floor, a cloud of darkness enveloping him.

A/N: Mwhahaha! A cliff-hanger! Next chapter is even more eventful than this one! Is this when they discover 'Lysander's' secret? What will Harry do when he wakes up? What will happen next?! Tune in next chapter to find the answer to these questions and many more!