Ok, here's the thing, I haven't written in this story for a very long time, so, I decided to refresh my memory of how much I had posted so far. I was reading, and I became horrified at the inconceivable amount of grammar and punctuation errors I had made, not to mention the structure sentences themselves. I have tried to fix the most glaring problems as much as possible, but I am not done. Which means I am going to be reposting the old chapters, even adding things. I may repost the chapters several times. I am sorry if this is inconvenient in any way, but it was just so bad. Now on with the fic!

Summary: Long ago, a war began between two demon clans. From this war came tears, blood, and a child. Now the remnants of one of those clans have joined forces with the most dangerous wizard alive, Lord Voldemort. Harry must fight his way through a maze of fear, hate but most importantly love. Can he be true to himself before it's too late? Or will he succumb to the mind-numbing darkness? Only one way to find out...

Disclaimer: If I owned HP would I be writing this crap? Brianna, James, Lucien and the Portillo-Martinez family are mine; ALL MINE! MWAHAHA!... Okay, I'm done now...

Warnings: This story contains yaoi. Meaning there's some hot M/M action in here somewhere. If you have a problem with this...I do NOT care! My suggestion to those who do is this: Go take your homophobic ass to the nearest bar, drink yourself silly, and then promptly jump into your crappy ass car and drive off a bridge. Do the world a big favor. You have been warned...

Criticisms are welcome flames are not!

And no, I did not pick out the name of this fic after I heard the title of the 6th book. It's in the sixth year, btw.

This means someone is speaking Spanish, thinking to themselves, or a word is being emphasized.

Chapter 3: Mi Familia

Lucien

August seventh

10:12 AM

San Francisco, California, United States

Ok, it was official. Lucien Portillo-Martinez was annoyed. He normally liked having a family of 14 but this was all too much to bear. The twins were having their 15th birthday soon, and he had completely forgotten. Just a few days ago it was Rosa's 6th. He had gotten her the biggest, pinkest present he could find- within his budget, of course-, which made him feel even more like a cabron. He didn't mean to play favorites, it just happened.

Thus was the reason a 17 year old boy with a braid down to his ankles was standing in front of the mall in naught but his yummy-sushi jammies, fuzzy blue slippers, and his white faux fur trench coat, wracking his brain, trying to remember what he had gotten the little hellions last year.

Well, Angel wasn't as much of a hellion as Angela was. She could be downright evil when she wanted to be. That morning she had awoken him to the sweet sound of a large Chinese gong... Don't ask. When she was 5 she had put green food dye in his shampoo. His once beautiful hair was the color of algae for 3 weeks. When she was seven, she had mixed Elmer's Glue with his toothpaste! Lucien sighed and wondered what the next day would bring.

Lucien was making his way towards Hot Topics when the little hairs on the back of his neck began to rise. Something was wrong. He spun around, nearly knocking over a kid in a stupid Batman shirt, but he didn't see anyone suspicious. However, suspicious for San Francisco was a pretty small category. Plus, he doubted he could recognize weird if he ever saw it. He didn't exactly look "normal" even for Cali standards. Of course, people would watch him. Okay, Lucien, no more jalapeño chili burritos before bed...

After he had a quick bite to eat, he was able to finish three hours later. He decided that while walking home, he would discretely keep an eye out for any potential stalkers. Though the feeling had come and gone with the first sensation, he didn't want to take any chances.

He wasn't too distracted to be proud of what he had bought Angela: a tight shirt that said "QUIT STARING AT MY BOOBS, YOU PERV!" on where the chest area was. She would love it, Lucien was sure of that. And for Angel, he got a book titled "What Herbs Should you Plant and When." The kid liked gardening and plants. Lucien thought, What the hell, if he doesn't like it he can refund it.

It wasn't until he was standing in front of the red door that he realized he had made it home. He took a moment to look around. Angel had done most of the renovating in the yard. It was beautifully trimmed, with rose bushes snaking their way up the drive way. Trees of all kinds were scattered across the premises, front and back. Ivy snaked up the side of the old Victorian house. If you climbed up to the roof and slowly turned in a circle, you could see that the vegetation circled the house in the pattern of an intricate octagon. Why Abuela had wanted it in that specific pattern, Lucien thought they would never know, but she had insisted on it not long before. That was a little over a year ago, in fact.

Behind that red door he could hear crashing and screaming. He gulped and turned the fake crystal knob. He was immediately bombarded by senses one could find no other place in the world. He loved this house with its weird smells of chamomile and smoke. Color pervaded everything as it wrapped you in a warm rainbow of emotions. In the Portillo-Martinez house, it always felt like Christmas. Everyone was welcome. You're always loved.

Lucien was adopted. Now, that didn't mean his family loved him any less. They treated him the exact same as everyone else in the household. His Abuela, Grandmother, had chosen him in an orphanage when his Mamasita and Papi thought they couldn't have kids. Oh, how wrong they were.

Lucien was not an only child by a long shot. The twins weren't his only siblings either. They were the first after him though. Then came Alejandro, age 14, the astronomer. He loved looking at the stars. His room was a myriad of constellation charts and space photographs. Many books about space adorned the bookshelf of his room. The room itself was one giant space station. Complete with star-painted walls, meticulously crafted to look authentic.

After Alejandro, came Catalina, age 13, the bookworm. She was the type of person who knew a little of everything, from snakes to asbestos. Her walls were covered in books, literally. Her entire room was one big library. She had a drawer under her bed in which she kept some of her favorite subjects. While half of her dresser was used for its intended purposes, the other half was filled with-you guessed it- books. She wasn't a bad kind of nerd. She was sociable enough, always kind to people; always helped around the house. She just loved to learn.

Following her, was Pedro, age 12, the fighter. Don't let the name fool you. He's a pacifist at heart. He's just good at what he does. "What does he do," you ask? Judo, kick boxing, akido, ninjitsu, you name it he can do it. Or can learn it fairly quickly. He's not a master at anything yet. But for his age he could probably whoop your old man.

After this certain prodigy, came Alberto, age 11, the... well, the problem child. Unlike the rest of the Portillo-Martinez children, Alberto just didn't quite have a niche in the world yet. He was always having trouble in school, and his grades weren't exactly up to par.

He was brilliant, though. Lucien sometimes asked the kid to help with his algebra. Lucien always got the best grades in the class. Alberto just didn't want to try. When asked about the subject he always said it was too "boring." It apparently presented him with no challenge. He had gotten into several fights with the kids in the neighborhood, which Pedro promptly beat up despite his gentle nature. No one messes with this family.

Finally, Abuela decided the boy might just be telling the truth. Much to his chagrin, Alberto took several tests to gauge his academic proficiency. Once Lucien had convinced him to, he agreed to take the tests seriously and not flunk them. The school has enrolled him in advanced classes next fall in the hopes that it might make Alberto more active.

Next came Eduardo, age 10, the new age freak. Now, that's not an insult, he just likes the sound of it even though it earns him a smack every time he says it. He's into the entire thing; crystals, incense, weird music, he even has an altar.

Don't you dare call him a witch or a wiccan. He hates those "labels." He prefers the term "mystic Christian." And it's true. He goes to church every Sunday, is involved in the youth program, even does volunteer work for the city every once in a while. He dresses like any normal boy, he's just a bit off.

Next in line was Annita, age 9, artist. She loves everything about art. Using her hands to create something gives her no other joy in the world. Her room is full of paint splotches and old art. Her favorite artists are da Vinci and Dali and it shows. Her walls are covered with their pieces. Including the Last Supper and Persistence of Memory otherwise known as "melting clocks." Her style shows it, too, in a mixture of surrealism with hidden atheist meanings.

She's been a part of several exhibitions and has won several awards. One was for her portrait called "Mi Familia." It was so large it took up an entire wall in the living room. The colors on it were as vibrant as the house and family themselves. Her representations of her family were all melted together in a giant kaleidoscope. Every time Lucien walked in he looked at that painting. It was his favorite.

Moving along, we find Marco, age 8, the smart-ass. He loves to make people laugh. It didn't matter what the joke was, he did it. Many times, he was forced soap into his mouth, but that did nothing to deter his whimsical spirit.

What's worse was that he had started working on an act. At recess, a teacher found him doing a stand-up comedy about the family, and not all of it was pleasant. Mrs. Thatcher, the teacher, had called a parent-teacher meeting where she told his parents, in detail, what poor Marco had said. His papi just looked at him and said in Spanish, "Well, at least you told the truth." This earned him a smack upside the head from his endearing wife who was trying not to laugh.

Where there's a yin, there's a yang, and none would be better at this role than Carlos, age 7,the quiet one. He was a sweetheart when he wanted to be, but lately he just wanted to be left alone. With the exception of Marco, he rarely said a word to anyone. No one knows much about Carlos not even Carlos himself. He was just... incomplete somehow and he knew it. It made Lucien sad at times.

And the most recent addition to this little circus was Rosa, age 6, the cute one - or at least that's how Lucien saw it. Every morning she gave Lucien a great big hug and begged him to take her somewhere. He spoiled her rotten.

She has such an imagination too! Albeit a little morbid. She had countless imaginary friends she talked to constantly. Sometimes, she would make some up for a certain situation but then later completely drop them. Once, in a subway, she started talking to a bunch of her invisible friends. When asked, she had claimed they had died on the subway accident a few years ago. She stared into space constantly, as if looking for something. Like a cat.

Her room was a vision of pink. The carpet was pink, as well as the bed, the curtains, the dresser and the desk. The entire thing was screamed of cuteness. Angie had designed it.

While Angel had a knack at designing outside of a house, his twin sister was just as good with the inside. The first time she ever tried to design a room she had done the living room. It looked so good that Abuela had declared she should do ALL the rooms that way. No on argued. She had been thirteen.

They twins made a great pair. Everything they did complemented each other. Angela was loud and had an anger problem; Angel was calm and always meditated. Her favorite color was pink, and he didn't even have one. She was interior design while he was a gardener.

They are exact opposites, but they never argued. They were always around each other, so of course Angela would do something to embarrass Angel, but he always got over it. The only time he pissed her off was when he backed down from a fight, and even then she still loved him.

Shaking off the nostalgia, Lucien started walking through the multicolored living room toward Alejandro. Lucien smiled at his little brother. The boy was lazily stretched out on one of the couches, reading through a book about Cassiopeia. That's when Lucien noticed the screaming and crashing was the TV up full blast. When Alejandro finally saw him, he quickly sat up and switched off the sound by remote. He looked up sheepishly at Lucien.

"It got too quiet," Alejandro explained in Spanish. He cleared his throat. "So, what did you get them?"

Lucien grinned, plopped down on the couch across from him and tossed him the bags. "Where is everyone, anyway?"

"Abuela made them all go to a movie so you could have time to wrap the presents. She knew you would forget." Glancing in the bags, Alejandro ignored Lucien's sputtering. After a minute, he looked up and raised an eyebrow at him. "You do realize that this is almost exactly what you got them last year, right?" he questioned, reverting to English.

Lucien sputtering stopped and his face fell. "¿Que?" he said stupidly. Scrambling over the homemade coffee table, Lucien snatched the bags back and glared into them. "You have GOT to be kidding me!"

Just then a wizened yet sharp, accented voice called from the kitchen, "Lucien! Een heere!"

"¡Si, Abuela! He threw the bags against the couch and rushed into the large, Mexican styled kitchen. He loved the kitchen more than any other room in the house. Something was always on the stove because someone was always hungry. Spices, herbs, and flowers greeted you as you walked through the threshold. The earth tones created a warmth that could only be described as "home."

But that wasn't the best part. The decor appealed to Lucien, of course, but the thing he loved the most about the room was that it fueled his most fervent passion; cooking. Although Lucien had hobbies, he especially loved to cook. If you asked him to he could bake, boil, sautee, flambé, you name it. He was a master chef in the making. The first time he had tried his hand in the kitchen, he had brought tears to Papi's eyes, and Jose Martinez was not an emotional man.

Lucien also loved that he could spend time with Abuela. No one dared enter her domain when something was cooking. That would mean certain death, or at least a good six hours of housework. Same thing as far as Lucien and his siblings were concerned. For some strange reason, he seemed to be the only one she would allow to help her.

Which was exactly what she had in mind as she silently pointed to the pot of chili boiling on the stove. She didn't seem to care that he was still in his nightclothes. Lucien could see that her hands were full chopping celery. He bounced over to the rather large cauldron-like pot and started stirring, before something very green and very pink obstructed his view. Pulling it off his head, he saw it was his usual "pink tulip" apron. He sheepishly gave Abuela an apologetic look as he pulled it on over his head and tied it one handed. He never stopped stirring.

"Diablo," she called, using her nickname for him.

He turned, expecting her to give him another task, just as a large kitchen knife came hurtling at his head. Reflexively he shielded his face with his arms and waited for the pain. After a few seconds he noticed nothing had happened. Lucien looked up to find the knife had stopped in midair, mere inches from his face, while his Abuela was giving him a thoughtful look.

Lucien couldn't move. His brain had gone numb. It wasn't until the knife clattered to the floor that he remembered to breath. The force of the large gasp of air made him crash to his knees. All he could do was stare at Abuela, who was still giving him a pensive look.

This was not happening. Abuela did not just throw a knife at his head. This was all some sick joke. Lucien brought his eyes to focus on the knife as if verifying its existence.

"What in the seven hells was that all about?!" He didn't know if he was shouting at Abuela or the offending object now lying helpless on the floor. "You could have killed me!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you hurt?"

He stopped to think for a moment. "Well... no," Lucien answered, not knowing he had changed to English. "But what made you think I wouldn't be? I could have been sliced in half!"

Abuela rolled her eyes in exasperation and made a move towards him. He flinched and almost scooted backward, but long conditioning had taught him to obey. However, all she did was lightly wrap her hand around his arm and lift him up. When he was on his feet she pointed him towards the living room.

"Go upstairs," she said. "I'll explain everything after you are cleaned and dressed."

He nodded, feeling a migraine coming on. Without another word, Lucien walked through the living room towards the stairs. Alejandro took one look at his face and threw down his book. It was obvious that he hadn't heard anything. Alejandro walked up to Lucien to stare into his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, putting a hand on Lucien's shoulder.

Lucien shook the hand off and stepped around him. "Yeah," he answered, "I'll be upstairs. I just need some time alone." Not waiting for a reply, Lucien ran up the steps two by two.

He was trying really hard not to freak out. He had the feeling that he wasn't being very successful. All that was going through his head, over and over was the thought, This is not happening

The first thing Lucien did when he got to his room was head for his bathroom. He always felt better after a shower. Lucien had his own bathroom. All of his brothers and sisters did. Papi had them installed after there was a fight over one during a weekday morning. They had to replace three walls, a glass vase, and a couch.

Lucien stepped into the steaming droplets and as always he felt the problems of the world wash away. All questions about the Floating Knife, and Parrys disappeared from his mind as he let the water do its job.

When he was finished and dressed Abuela was in his room with a large black bag. Lucien had never seen it before. Feeling slightly scared, he walked over to her and sat on the bed, pulling his Garfield pillow to his chest. Abuela had made it for him when he was five.

Abuela's hand disappeared into the bag for a moment and came out with an yellowish envelope. She handed it to him reverently. He let the pillow drop to his lap as he took it from her. Lucien noticed that the envelope was sealed with maroon wax. The design was a dragon in the shape of a rose.

He stared at it until Abuela said, "That was given to me almost sixteen years ago."

He looked at her sharply with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, yes, you heard me right." She gave him a wry smile. "I had just come home from a nice, long, relaxing vacation to Mexico. So imagine my surprise when a strange young man, covered in blood, was on my doorstep begging for sanctuary. He handed me a baby boy wrapped in a blanket of fine maroon silk. He told me that if the child ever showed any type of supernatural ability before his 20th birthday that I was to give this to him." She looked pointedly at the envelope.

He stared at it again, at a loss for words and jumped when she finally yelled, "Read it already! I've been waiting 15 years to see what it said! The suspense is killing me!"

With trembling hands Lucien sliced open the beautiful seal. A tingle ran through his body but he ignored it, shaking it off as excitement. He upended the contents into his hand and was somewhat disappointed when all that fell out was a simple sheet of lined paper, much unlike the thick, rich paper of its shell. It was the kind of paper he used for school. The paper even still had the tabs on it from when it was torn out of a notebook.

He unfolded it and read in trepidation.

Dear Lucien,

I am your mother, and if you are reading this, then I am dead. I know, it's such a typical way to start out a letter like this, but I can't think of anything better. I pray that this letter has reached you safely, that your family loves you, and that you are happy. You must have so many questions. I know I would. I am saddened to say that I cannot tell you everything. Although I would like to explain everything that I have been through in the last year, you are too young, and the situations of your birth are too great. You simply are not ready. What I can tell you is that your father is not normal. Though he is most likely dead as well, he was born into something far more powerful and dangerous than I could ever imagine. I don't think I STILL grasp all of what's been going on. It makes my head spin even now. No doubt you have noticed that you are special, that you can do things ordinary people can only dream of. You, my darling baby boy, are a magical, at least in part. You could not have opened the seal if you were not. Along with this letter you should have gotten a bag.

Lucien looked at Abuela just as she held up a small maroon pouch. Silently, he set it in his lap and opened it with one hand. His other hand still clutched the letter. Inside he found a locket and a medium-sized leather-bound book. He brought the locket to his face and saw that on one side was a Jesus fish and on the other was a simple cross. He tried to open the book but couldn't. Perplexed, he returned to the letter.

The locket is a mixture of two necklaces that belonged to both your father and myself. The cross was his and the fish was mine. If you open it, you will find a picture of us from when we were on our first "date." I'm looking at it now, actually, and it brings a warmth to my heart. We were so happy then, and we are still just as in love. No doubt you are wondering how to open the book or even what it is. It is a diary of my life. Some things were omitted for your safety, of course, but we think it is better that way. Along with my writings, there are some of my sketches and poems. They always made your father smile. I hope that you treasure them. To open the book you must use the locket. It becomes the key. There is so much more I wish to tell you, but time is short, and the sky grows dark. I know that They will find us soon. And I'll be damned if I let Them harm a hair on your head.

Here, the handwriting started to become erratic, as if the author's hand was shaking. Tiny wet patches adorned the paper. Lucien noticed they were tears as his own joined them.

I am ruffling your hair right now. You're hungry. I should feed you.
I love you, my wonderful child. Please be safe.
D.

He looked up from the letter to gaze into his Abuela's eyes but her face was blurry. He wiped away the tears with his sleeve then looked at her again. She was smiling a sad smile as she held her arms out for him. He jumped into them without even thinking. All he knew was that he wanted – no, needed to be held. The letter, book and pillow clattered to the floor while the locket's chain was still wrapped firmly in his fingers.

Lucien didn't know how long they had stayed like that until they heard a crash from the direction of the living room. He quickly wiped any excess tears from his face as Angel walked in carrying their youngest sister Rosa in his arms. Once she saw Lucien she shot out from Angel's grasp and bound toward the long-haired boy, hugging him fiercely. He held her just as tight.

She pushed back a little to stare at him with wide eyes in fascination. "Guess what, big brother," she exclaimed. "There's a giant in the living room!"

Lucien raised an eyebrow questioningly at Angel who was bending down to pick up the letter and book. He handed them back to Lucien with a shrug.

"This man showed up on the door step just as we got home. He said he has a letter for you."

Lucien's blood ran cold. Oh, Goddess, please, not another one. It was then that he noticed Abuela was gone.

He put Rosa, who huffed in indignation, on the ground and quickly stuffed his newfound precious possessions into the maroon bag. He stopped as he was about to put the locket away. Instead, he brought the chain over his head. It hung so that the locket itself pressed reassuringly against his chest, so close to his heart. He jumped up, and just when he was about to walk back through the kitchen doors, he noticed two sets of eyes on his back. He swirled around and gave them his usual goofy grin.

"Well let's hope I'm not getting sued!" And with that he was gone. Leaving two very confused siblings in his wake.

By the time Lucien got to the door to the living room, Catalina was already serving tea to a... well the only proper word he could think of to describe the man was gigante. Everything about him was large. His hands, beard, coat, even the strange pick umbrella he had clutched in his hand. The other hand was politely taking one of their infinitely smaller teacups from Catalina. His scruffy beard was littered with crumbs from one of the cookies Lucien had made the night before. He was taking up the entire couch on the left side of the wall while the family surrounded him on the others.

Everyone turned as Lucien stepped through the threshold. He grinned a shaky grin and made his way across the grand room. The gigante stood with a friendly grin. Or at least Lucien thought it was friendly from the way his eyes scrunched. He was able to stand fully erect on account of the ceiling being ridiculously high.

"'Ello. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys of Hogwarts and professor of Care of Magical Creatures at yer service. Everyone calls me Hagrid." He said as he held out his hand. "Yeh must be Lucien."