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 4: Early Rising, Late Fiesta

James

May Twenty fifth

5:15 AM

Los Angeles, California

It was early. Too early for most people's liking. However, James was nothing if not a morning person. As his too-loud alarm clock resounded the apartment, James jumped up and walked across the room to turn it off. Grabbing his robe on the way, he headed straight to the kitchen. He liked to have his usual morning tea on important days. He made sure to get one with ginko in it. He had to be ready for the upcoming day. This was going to be his first time out for a shoot, after all. His manager, Tracy, had said she had hooked him up with "the mother of all shoots" and he was about bursting to get into the office.

Once done, James resolutely stood up and made his way into the bathroom. Shucking his pajamas and robe off he turned on the shower. It took him all of fifteen minutes to wash his hair. He meticulously ran a fine-toothed comb through his raven locks. Shaking his head and running his left hand through his hair to produce lighter curls he simultaneously reached for his 30 dollar mousse that Tracy had suggested. It smelled like sunflowers to him. Once he was finished with his hair, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked into the kitchen. He couldn't wear his clothes until his hair dry. The stylist Tracy had gotten for him had told James to let his hair air dry for at least half an hour after he put mouse in. He couldn't put any chemicals on his new clothes. After he had waited the appropriate amount of time, he gently extricated a pair of black slacks and a dark blue button up shirt. One of Tracy's designers had told him what colors would look best with his skin tone. A pair of black loafers finished the ensemble. He didn't think he had ever worked so hard on his personal appearance in his life. He felt odd.

He decided to do one last check in the mirror. He was glad he had had the insight to take the full-length mirror from home. It had been his Grandmothers. Shad left it to him in her will. The mirror was one of his most prized possessions. He remembered when he had been small, around four or five, and his Grammy sat him in front of the mirror to play with his toys as she told him stories. He remembered her deep rumbling voice as she sat in the rocking chair, facing the mirror. She sang him to sleep like that every night. Her name was Rose, but he called her Grammy Rosy. She had died when he was ten due to heart problems.

He ran his hand over the hand carved wooden frame that had roses inlaid into it briefly before he shook himself and checked his over all look. His bruise was almost totally gone. Tracy had assured him that make up could practically erase the yellow coloration and the touch-up artist could do the rest with the picture. He looked nearly perfect. He still didn't like the haircut, though. He used to have creamy blonde hair down to the middle of his back. Now the color had been highlighted with a red tint and it was a little above shoulder length. In the long run, he supposed he didn't mind. It was just hair after all, he could grow it back after all this was over, and he trusted Tracy and her people. He could deal with a few alterations if they thought it would make him more photogenic.

Something's missing, James thought, rubbing his neck as he was prone to do when he was thinking. He swiftly pulled his arm down. Tracy had told him not to do that. She said it made him look childish. Then he remembered what was wrong. Oh, yes! The eyes.

He walked over to the box laid beside his bed on the dresser. Lifting it up, he brought out his contacts case. He put the annoyingly itchy things in his eyes exactly like Tracy had shown him how. He walked back to the mirror once again to take a final look. He looked almost foreign to himself. His eyes were now a violent shade of blue. Tracy's people had said it would bring out his hair and skin tone. James thought the contacts made them look like a pair of blue headlights, and his already waxed eyebrows seemed even thinner. He felt ridiculous for missing his deep black eyes. He reminded himself that he trusted Tracy. He wanted this, after all

James looked up at the clock and was surprised to see that it was already 6. He had to be at the company for the photo shoot in forty-five minutes. It would take at least thirty to get through the traffic but he liked to be early. His telephone rang, and he jumped to get it. The concierge was calling to tell him that his taxi had gotten there. James thanked the old man and hung up. He had liked the concierge, Fred, from the moment he had met him. He seemed like a sweet gentleman. James grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

By the time James had gotten to the Kontroll Inc. headquarters, he was fifteen minutes late. The Hispanic driver had understood barely half of what James had said and vice versa. The driver had turned the wrong way at least twelve times. James was polite and gave a good tip but he was still more than a little frustrated as he stepped into the building. He had wanted to arrive early and look as nice as possible. Now his silk shirt was rumpled and he smelled like an ashtray.

As always, the building was breathtaking. It was called the Kontroll tower, and not without reason. It was 166 floors structured to form a spiral tower. If you looked up, you could see all the way to the glass roof. From the outside it looked like a mirror obelisk. James resisted the urge to stare. He didn't want to seem like a country bumpkin, after all. The floor was teaming with activity. Everyone seemed to have somewhere to be and everyone seemed to be late. James found it relaxing in a way, like watching ants in a colony.

He walked ahead to see, directly in font of him, a large, marble, half circle desk. The secretary sitting behind it paid him no mind, continuing on with her conversation over her cell. Obviously, the debate on whether Orlando Bloom looked better as a blond or brunette took precedence over a new employee like him. He cleared his throat politely. She still ignored him. James said a quiet, "excuse me, madam." All she did in response to him was hold up a slender finger with a nail almost as long as the appendage itself.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said not knowing what to do. "I'm already late as it is and Tracy said she would meet me here. Did she mean her office, or-" He was cut off as the secretary, Peggy by her name plate, shoved a folded, scented, pink paper under his nose, never looking up. He thanked her, not that she noticed, and started to read. He felt his stomach drop.

Dear James,

I am so so so so sorry. Theres been an emergency with one of my our clients in Milan and they refused to talk to anyone but me. I should be back in a week. You need to find Deondria and she'll do your shoot. Don't worry, you will be in good hands. She's one of the best.

Love,

Tracy McMillan

P.S. Don't let her scare you, she's really harmless.

Scare me? James thought to himself.

He almost jumped when Peggy pushed a button and her nasally voice resounded the front hall, "De, come to the front desk, please. De, you're needed at the front desk."

CRASH! BANG! "Who the hell would put pink with his skintone!? I want peach, not pink, peach damnit! Take it off, burn it and fix it!" Just then, barreling towards them at speeds James previously thought impossible, a tiny woman with a light chocolate complexion came into view. Her short hair was pulled back .and slicked to her head. She wore cream Manolo Blahniks, an off white Nicole Miller Blouse from the Spring 2007 catalog and pair of Jacquard pants from fall 2006. James was impressed. Before she crashed into him, Ms. Adams (that was who he assumed it was) stopped mere inches from him and immediately began circling like a vulture. After the fifth round she stopped in front of him and stepped back. James was glad; he was starting to get dizzy.

"Please, I beg of you, tell me this isn't another intern." She spoke to Peggy in a crisp Brooklyn accent, but the secretary didn't respond. She didn't even look up from her magazine. But she did hand Ms. Adams another letter.

For a few breathless moments, she skimmed the letter, finally exclaiming a rough "Ha!" when she finished.

"What's your name kid?" she demanded, cocking a bony hip.

"James Tanner, Ms. Adams. I was told-"

She waved a hand as if swiping away a fly and started walking back the way she came. James followed, trying not to trip over his feet. "Don't care. Love the accent. And don't call me Ms. anything. It's De. Tray says that you're up for the jungle shoot?" She stopped and turned around. He almost crashed into her. Before James could answer, she continued talking in her quick manner. "I'm changing that. You're full spread material, kid. Good God, man, do you ever smile? I just told you I can make you famous."

"I apologize. Thank you, Ms. A- De, but I'm not at all sure I want that kind of attention."

De scoffed. "Of course you do. You're a model. If you didn't want attention, you wouldn't have signed up to get that pretty boy face of yours photographed." She pointed to her right and said, "Michel will hook you up with a face." Without further ado, she walked off yelling something about the color peach.

That was when James noticed their surroundings. He was stunned. It was a hub of activity. Everyone was running, everyone seemed panicked. It was too bright. That was all he could process for the time being before he felt a tug on his arm. As he was pulled by a highly tanned man with bleached hair to a make up booth, he briefly thought to himself, Just what have I gotten myself into?

Lucien

August tenth

1:23 PM

San Francisco, California

"'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."

Lucien took the hand, which covered his completely, and stared dazedly at him. "Er...si," he said then shook his head as if a fly was nearby. "I mean, yes. Yes, I am. I'm sorry, but I was told you had a letter for me..."

"Oh, too righ'" said the gigante - Hagrid with another smile. He reached into his big coat and pulled out a think envelope. He handed it to him in almost reverence then grinned again apologetically. "Yeh see, yeh were s'posed to get it a lot sooner, years 'go in fact. But thing haven't been goin' about as ordered 'round our parts."

Lucien smiled absentmindedly to show his understanding then turned his attention to this newest letter. The paper of the envelope was very similar to the one from his mother. He almost teared up again but he didn't want everyone there to see. He turned it over and saw a seal on this one as well. It was purple wax in the design some sort of crest; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

With surprisingly steady hands, he opened it and read aloud.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZADRY

Head Master: Album Dumbledoor
(Order of Merlin, First Class,Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizarsds)

Dear Mr. Portillo-Martinez,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Howarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term Begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Head Mistress

The room was silent for all of two seconds until, Eduardo let out a loud, "SAY WHAT?!

Lucien felt like he was going to faint. He looked from the letter to Hagrid then back to the letter again. For the second time in a very short while he felt as if his life had been turned completely upside down. He unknowingly started swaying on his feet as the -Hogwarts, was it?- letter fell from his hands. Tiny fireflies were dancing in front of his eyes.

Luckily, Angel and Angie caught him before he could fall, and helped him to a large comfy chair. While Papi and Mamasita shooed everyone from the living room, Lucien put his hands to his head, and took a few deep breaths. The twins were about to argue being pushed out, when Papi gave them "The Look." They practically ran upstairs.

"Are you alrigh'," asked Hagrid in his heavily accented voice as Mamasita ran calming circles on his back with her palm. Both seemed to keep him steady to where he could finally speak.

"Please tell me your joking." His voice sounded foreign, even to him. It was rough and harsh like sandpaper.

"You know he's not," Abuela said, almost stern. She stuck the letter and envelope under his nose along with his bag... His mother's bag. "This is your destiny."

He took the items from her and stared at them for a few seconds. Again the room was silent. Even Hagrid seemed to know something was up, as he started fidgeting on the couch. He jumped, nearly breaking it, when Lucien suddenly addressed him.

"I don't know any magic. You said I should have gotten this letter years ago, so I'm assuming I'll be behind in my, uh… classes."

"Ye'll have a tutor," Hagrid answered seeming to feel more at ease. "Brigh'est young witch at Hogwarts, if yeh ask me."

"Where exactly is this school?" asked Mamasita. "Will there me a long commute? My husband and I work a lot. Unfortunately, we don't have time to take a long drive every morning and afternoon." She gave her son an apologetic look.

Lucien was very surprised that she had accepted this so soon, both of his parents in fact. They're the most skeptical people he knows. He decided to push that aside for later, when he heard Hagrid's answer.

"Oh, yeh see, he won' 'xactly have to commute..." Hagrid had suddenly started looking very uncomfortable. He began fidgeting again.

Papi raised an eyebrow. See? Skeptical. "So, he can take the bus or walk. Is it within city limits?"

"Not 'xactly." He almost withered under the glares he was receiving. He took a deep breath and continued quickly. "Hogwarts is somewhere in the area of England" A pause. "And so's his tutor. That's why I had to come personally. Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, wants Lucien here to start trainin' righ' away. He needs to come back with me."

"I beg your pardon?" Mamasita started in, loud and threateningly, when Abuela interrupted her.

"Then, I guess you should go pack, eh, Diablo?"

"But, Abuela-"

"Don't you 'but Abuela' me, now go." Her reply was sharp and firm. Something that gives no room for argument.

Lucien quickly gathered his things and half-ran up the steps. He knew he was acting childish but he was confused, pissed, but most of all he was scared. He didn't want to leave his family. His siblings were probably the only friends he had. Sure he had people he knew and hung out with, but they were just acquaintances at best. He had never been away from home more than a month or so for Summer camp, and even then he missed everyone so much it hurt.

When he got to his room he had to stop himself from slamming the door. Suddenly, he was attacked by a mass of brown hair.

"Guys, get off!" He yelled, pushing everyone. He didn't mean to push as hard as he did. Rosa fell back and started crying. He sighed and scooped her up, whispering reassuring nothings into her ear. His room was filled to capacity with his 7 brothers and 4 sisters. He barely had room to bounce Rosa in his arms.

"We won't let them take you away," shouted Pedro. "We just won't!" Tears started to well up in his eyes.

"You guys were listening?" The mass of hair bobbed up and down. "So you decided to plan a sneak attack up in my room?" Again the brown sea moved.

Lucien sighed and moved through them all to sit down on his bed only to find the cat, Vene and the dog, Cura stretched out on it. He let out a high-pitched whistle and they immediately bounded to the other side of the room. He sat on the bed, gently put his possessions on the dresser, and set Rosa on his knee so she was facing him. She only scooted closer and burrowed her face in his chest.

"Were are familia, si?" He looked at everyone to make sure they all answered in the affirmative. "And what is familia?" He looked at Rosa this time, tapping her on one of her pig-tails so she knew that he was asking him.

"Something that can't be cut, burned, or broken." Her usual petite voice was muffled by his shirt, to which her tiny hands were clutching tightly.

"That's right," he said, smiling as he started smoothing her hair. It reminded him of petting a scared kitten. "And no matter where I am. That bond of famillia will always be there. Whether I'm in England or Zimbabwe, you guys will always be in my heart."

Angel sighed and stood up from the bean bag he was sharing with Angie. "Well then, I guess we might as well help you pack. You have a long trip ahead of you."

"Come on," Angie said standing to join her brother, hands on hips. "You heard the man. Annita, get his suitcase, I think it's in the attic, Carlos, you can go help her. Catalina, Alejandro, stay and help us. The rest of you go to your rooms and stay out of our way." She walked to the door and held it open, obviously expecting everyone to listen to her.

They were all taken aback by Angel's calm exterior when facing the chance of not being able seeing his brother for months on end. Even more surprising was that Angie actually backed Angel up! They all thought she would yell and scream and go try to burn this new school down... She has anger issues. But all she did was give out orders like this was the most normal thing in the world.

When it was obvious nobody was moving, Lucien tried to reassure them. "Go on, you guys. Maybe you can scrounge up a going away present for me."

"That won't be necessary just yet, little ones." Abuela had suddenly appeared at the door, making everyone jump. Angela would have fallen on her butt if she'd had room to. "Your parents and I have convinced Senor Hagrid to stay the night so we can give Lucien a proper farewell party."

There was a moment of silence followed by ear-blowing cheers. The entire house filled with delighted screams.

Once those had subsided, and she had taken her fingers out of her ears, Abuela ordered them out of the room and set them each to tasks... Much like Angie had done only moments before. Before Lucien started down the stairs he quickly changed into a superman t-shirt and tight jeans. He had a feeling that it would be a long party and he didn't want to look too silly. As he was walking down the stairs,he caught a glimpse of Abuela whisper something discreetly into both of the twins' ears, before they ran out the front door, looking giddy.

The rest were given pretty clear instructions. Alejandro and Alberto were in charge of clearing the backyard patio. Catalina, Eduardo, and Annita were in charge of setting everything up. Such as the table, chairs, streamers and the large, Mexican flag they usually hung when they really celebrated. Julio and Pedro were in charge of finding the decorations. And Carlos and Rosa were in charge of blowing balloons with the family air blower. Rosa always got a kick out of making funny voices with helium. Julio had been grounded for a week after he showed her how. Abuela, Mamasita, and Papi oversaw everything. Poor Hagrid stood there completely confused until Abuela told him to help set up the streamers and flag to the patio roof since he was tall enough. And Lucien, of course was sent into the kitchen to finish up the dinner and make some more chili some enchiladas, burritos, and salad. Not that he was complaining.

The ending result of all of their efforts was astounding. Their backyard had been turned into one gigantic rainbow. Color was everywhere! Loud, thrumming Latino music was coming from the large boombox. Food fit for a palace feast adorned the long, rather old looking table.

Once everything was ready, the party began. Lucien always loved family parties. There was music and dancing and lots and lots of food. The best part was when he got to see his parents do the tango. Apparently where they were from, they had been the reigning dance competition champions. A fact that was apparent when they got on the dance floor. The "floor" being the raised wooden platform adjacent to the actual patio. They had finally set down for dinner. After a few seconds Lucien turned towards Hargid, who was sitting right beside him. The large man was staring at the two in awe.

Smirking Lucien said, "What's the matter, never seen dancing before?"

"Not like that I 'aven't," He replied still staring.

"Oh yeah, they're good," said Catalina on his other side, as she showed one of her more evil grins, "But just wait until the twins hit the floor." She promptly got back to her enchilada.

Lucien wasn't looking at his food or his parents, he was still inspecting Hagrid.

"What's it like?" He said it so suddenly even he didn't notice he had spoken after a moment.

"What's what," Hagrid asked, turning away from the man and wife, who were now tapping to their own rhythm. They reminded him of cobras circling each other.

"Your world; What's it like?"

Eduardo paid immediate attention to the conversation.

"Yeh mean our world, righ'?"

Lucien looked down at his plate and shuffled the food around with his fork. He hadn't looked at it that way. "Well, yeah." A terrible thought struck him, and he suddenly paled. " I don't have to ride any brooms or anything, do I?"

He gulped and tried not to look too nervous. He had always held a terrible fear of heights. Catalina said it is called "acrophobic." Lucien didn't care what it was called; all he knew was that it sucked. Angela, along with everyone else besides Mamasita and Abuela, used to tease him about it mercilessly. One time, Marco climbed to the upmost branch on the tallest tree in the orchard and pretended to have a sprained ankle. Lucien was forced to try and "save" him. Once he reached Marco, the boy immediately jumped down and laughed as Lucien clung to the branch like a frightened kitten. After a few minutes, he realized his brother was not playing around. Lucien freaked out so bad, he fell from the tree and broke his foot. Marco wasn't allowed dessert for a month. Since then, the others eased up on the teasing. At least so badly.

Hagrid looked at him confused. "Well, ya haft'a learn at firs', Lucien." At the boy's horrified face, Hagrid hurriedly said, "But there're some students who only took the firs' class and that's it. I know some who couldn't ride a broom to save their lives."

Lucien let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and gave a weak laugh. "Good. As long as you keep those things away from me, it's all good."