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"Where's your watchdog?" John asked when Angela entered the living room. John placed a photo on the shelf before he turned to face Angela. He looked down and saw Ducky rub against his leg.

"He's talking with my cousin. He shouldn't take long." She said. "And he's not my watchdog. I met him at my cousin's wedding and we got along. He's been traveling the world lately, and I offered to house him if he was ever in town. Somehow I can't help but be grateful he decided to visit at this particular time." She glanced at John. "Not that it's any of your business." She added as an afterthought and John snorted and nodded towards the box she was holding in her hands.

"These are all Isabel's things?" Angela nodded and placed the box on the table. "The cat was hers as well?"

"Yes; why?" she asked and frowned when John kneeled and took the cat into his hands.

"Cats are good - half way here, half way there." He took a seat in a chair and put his feet, shoes and all, into a bucket of water he brought with him earlier. Angela raised a confused eyebrow before she took a seat on the floor facing John, not knowing what else to do as the man prepared himself for whatever he was about to do.

"Don't you need candles and a pentagram for this to work?" John looked at her and she smiled at him uneasily.

"Why; do you have any?" he deadpanned while he got comfortable with the cat in his lap.

"No." She muttered and John snorted. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders.

"I need you to step outside now." John said. "Please?" he added when he saw she wanted to stay. Angela sighed and nodded.

"Call me if you need anything." She said and turned to get out. John sighed and looked at the cat.

'This will be a bumpy ride.'

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"No, Hermione, I don't want you here. I'll call once all of this is over. Please; you and Ron are all I have left in this world. I wouldn't survive it if I lost you." Harry spoke into the receiver.

"You really are a trouble magnet, Harry." Said wizard smiled when he heard her exasperated sigh. "Alright, I won't come." Harry was ready to let go of a relieved sigh but it hitched in his throat when Hermione continued speaking. "But the moment Ron's done with his case he's coming over." Harry felt anger bubble inside him and he snapped.

"Hermione, I already told you, I want neither one of you here!" Harry stressed. "This isn't something we faced before! You can't tell me you're willing to send your husband, the father of your unborn child, into a possibly life threatening situation!" he heard her sigh on the other end of the line.

"I'm not willing, but I'm not about to lose my best friend because he was stupid enough to run into a deadly situation on his own." Harry sighed and rubbed his face with his free hand.

"Hermione-…" whatever he wanted to say was lost behind a choked gasp when unbelievable pressure settled over him. For a whole moment he couldn't breathe and it felt as if the very air turned to lead in his lungs.

"Harry? Harry?!" and just like that it was gone. "Harry, answer me!"

"Hermione, I'll call you later. I have to go." He gasped out breathlessly as his knees threatened to betray him.

"Harry, what happened?"

"I don't know." He swallowed hard as his heart slowed down and the room stopped spinning. "I'll call you later. I have to go now. Bye." He hung up before Hermione had a chance to stop him and left the kitchen in time to see Angela run beside him with tears streaming down her cheeks.

He looked at the half open door of the living room and made his way over. He entered and saw John sitting under the window with his knees bent and his elbows resting on them. His head was bowed, and the air was stale with the stench of sulfur.

Harry felt his heart clench at the sight of the older man. With a flick of his wrist the air was fresh again and John was in a clean pair of clothes.

John looked up in time to see two cups of a steaming liquid appear in Harry's hands. The younger man approached him and offered John one cup. John accepted it and Harry took a seat beside him, their shoulders almost touching.

John looked into the cup and saw hot chocolate.

"Chocolate?" Harry chuckled.

"A dear friend of mine often said that chocolate cures everything." He explained and John huffed. He took a sip before he leaned back and looked at the ceiling.

"I thought wizards couldn't create something out of nothing." He felt Harry shrug beside him.

"It comes with the little quirk of being the most powerful wizard in the world." Harry muttered. "And besides; I didn't conjure it. I already made it while I was talking with 'Mione, Angy's cousin. I just summoned the cups into my hands." John huffed and took another sip. The sweet warmth really did help somewhat.

"John? What happened?" Harry asked and John took a deep breath.

"Isabel is-"

"Not that. I believe we all knew that already." Harry said. A part of him already did know. He just didn't want to believe it, let alone tell Angela. "What I mean is what happened to you?" John sighed.

He didn't want to tell him.

He really, honestly didn't want to tell him.

They met mere hours ago and Harry made him feel uncomfortable, and he couldn't decide if it was bad or good sort of uncomfortable.

What he could say was that the wizard had a certain Aura around him. It wasn't just the magic John could feel circulating around and inside Harry.

There was something about the younger man that reached out to him; something that was pulling him in like a moth to a flame.

"John?"

"When I was a kid I saw things; things I wasn't supposed to see." He started speaking before he was able to stop himself. "My parents sent me to a doctor, a shrink, a priest; I was in four different institutions by the time I was eighteen." Harry frowned when he saw John rub his left wrist.

"The last place they put me was run by a church. The revered Father made the brilliant deduction that I was possessed." John huffed in irony. "He said I needed to be exorcised." His voice broke with the remembered pain and Harry saw John's muscles randomly twitch as if his body still remembered the pain. He could sympathize, really.

Sometimes there were no visible scars to remind someone of the torture they passed. The scars on one's soul couldn't be seen and they never healed. The scars on the soul were like open wounds no amount of time could heal. The Cruciatus Curse left such scars and Harry lived through it more times than he cared to count.

"It was like someone trying to pull teeth that weren't there. So I took things into my own hands and I found a way out."

"You attempted suicide." Harry stated, but John shook his head.

"I never attempt anything." Harry frowned and looked at John. He could only see the left side of his face, but he didn't have to see more. He could feel it. He could feel the self-loathing, the pain, the desperation, and he could see the darkness around John's heart.

"But you're still here." He whispered. "You're still alive." John huffed and shook his head.

"Not my doing." He admitted bitterly. "Officially I was dead for 2 minutes. But believe me, 2 minutes are a lifetime in Hell." Harry felt every hair on his body stand up when a cold chill passed over him.

"When I came back I didn't just see demons anymore. I could do the one thing they couldn't." John still sounded bitter, but now a smirk covered his face. "I could come and go as I please." He drank the rest of the hot chocolate and stood up. Harry did the same, but remained standing in his place while John put some distance between them.

"Heaven and Hell are right here." John said and turned to face Harry. The dark look in John's eyes said enough. Knowledge, fear, pain; it was all there, hidden behind defiance and cockiness. "Behind every wall, every face; the world behind the world. It's crossing over that's the real trick. That's why most demons can only whisper in our ears. But even a whisper can turn your favorite pleasure into your worst nightmare." Harry kept John's gaze although he felt like his heart was breaking. He was remembering Ginny all over again, and the pain ate at his heart.

"But the worst demons are the ones that are allowed to be here, the ones that are half-human so they blend in." Harry noted the tone of hate in John's voice. "Just like those with the angel's touch living alongside of us; the half-breeds." He spat out like it was the foulest thing in the world.

"They call it Balance." He huffed and looked to the side. "I call it hypocritical bullshit." Harry swallowed and frowned. "So when one of them gets a little cocky, peddles their influence or hijacks a soul?" John shrugged uncaringly. "I deport their scaly ass right back to Hell. I don't get them all but maybe enough to ensure my retirement." He bowed his head and took a seat on the couch, feeling like someone just punched him in the gut.

He never told any of this to anyone; not even to Father Hennessey, who he considered a friend. He could feel those soulful eyes on the back of his head. A part of him felt lighter and yet a voice in the back of his mind was telling him he was a fool for letting Harry know all of it.

But there was just something in Harry that was calling out to him. Something warm and comforting that surely wasn't there when Harry and Angela came to his apartment. Back there Harry was a soldier, a man on a mission; harsh and frightening. John would be a fool if he denied that a small part of him was afraid of that side of Harry.

Not that he would ever say that out loud.

Right now Harry was nothing like that, although if one took a better look they would see an undercurrent of power to Harry's peaceful visage.

A low hum of power and danger, ready to come out into the open any second.

"I'm not exactly religious, but that sounds awfully close to trying to buy your way into Heaven." Harry finally spoke up, and John huffed while he stared at his callused hands. He turned the empty cup around in his hands, trying to ignore that soulful look focused on the back of his head.

"What would you do if you were sentenced to a prison where half the inmates were put there by you?" Harry huffed. He understood John; he understood his pain.

"Have you ever heard of Horcruxes?"

John almost jumped out of his skin when Harry spoke. He turned around in his seat, and looked at the younger man. Harry was leaning against the wall by the window. The dim light from outside cast half his face into shadows. His emerald eyes were hard and shadowed. He crossed his arms over his chest as if he wanted to put a wall between himself and the world.

"I remember hearing the name." John said and Harry nodded.

"A Horcrux is an object containing a part of its creator's soul." Harry spoke. His voice sounded strangely distant and his face was a blank mask. Whatever he was thinking about must have been very painful.

"Part of it?" John asked and Harry nodded.

"You make a Horcrux by splitting your soul and storing that part into an object. And before you ask, you split your soul by killing an innocent." Harry said. "But you must really want it and you must be really desperate to do so."

"Why?" John asked.

"Because each time you split your soul you lose a part of yourself; a part of your humanity." A shiver shook Harry's body and he closed his eyes to hide the pain, but John saw it and a feeling of dread took over him.

"Why would anyone want to do that?" He asked. Harry opened his eyes and looked at John.

"To become immortal." John frowned. "As long as there is a part of your soul locked onto this plain of existence you can't die; you always come back. But like I said. The price of immortality is insanity." Harry cleared his throat when his voice broke and shifted his weight.

"In the late forties a young wizard, Tom Marvolo Riddle, discovered how to make Horcruxes. You see, he was an orphan; a wizarding orphan that grew up in a muggle orphanage. He wasn't treated well and came to hate muggles and everything connected to them." Harry stopped and swallowed over a lump in his throat.

"When he was accepted into Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he also found out about his heritage. He found out he was the descendant of one of the oldest families in the wizarding world. He got involved with the so called Purebloods. His mind was poisoned with the ideal of blood purity. Think Hitler, but with magic." John shivered. He didn't like where this was going.

"He was a very charismatic young man and soon enough he had a band of followers. They began slowly, but what started as a simple campaign ended up as a full-fledged war." Harry's eyes darkened to almost black.

"He took on a new name, Voldemort, for there was only one thing in the world he truly feared. His fear of death made him create a Horcrux. But he didn't stop at one, oh no." Harry chuckled bitterly and finally raised his head to look at John. "He made 6 of them." John's eyes widened and Harry smirked a dark, sinister smirk.

"It doesn't end there. They started their own genocide. They killed muggles, muggleborns and halfbloods, trying to create their perfect, pureblood society. Of course, there were those who opposed him." John stood up slowly and placed his cup on the low tea table in front of the couch.

"The headmaster of Hogwarts led his own group of followers. They opposed Voldemort any chance they got." Harry's eyes reverted to the floor and he continued speaking. "In '79 a prophecy was made. A prophecy which foretold the end of Voldemort." The feeling of dread John felt doubled.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him; born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, and he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies." Harry's voice deepened and became raspy, but Harry didn't clear his throat. He just continued speaking.

"There were two families that fit that description; two families that thrice refused to join him. Two families that had boys born at the end of July. Voldemort heard only half of the prophecy, but it was enough; and he set out to destroy the child that could mean his end." John thought he knew where this was going but he dared not stop Harry with questions, so he just stood and listened.

"On Halloween 1981, he attacked the hidden home of the family he thought fit the prophecy the most. Their location was betrayed by one of their friends; a man they thought they could trust. He came in the night and broke into the house." Harry squeezed his eyes shut as flashes of green light and screams echoed through his mind.

"He killed the father while the mother ran to the boy's room, trying to protect her baby. He came after her. She begged him to take her life and spare her son. He told her to move. She didn't have to die. But she refused. He killed her and then turned to kill the baby." John's mouth ran dry. It was almost unbelievable. But he knew Harry was telling the truth. He heard rumors of a Dark Lord in Britain a long time ago but paid them no heed since it didn't concern him.

"But he failed." Harry's voice was not louder than a whisper.

"How?" John asked and Harry looked into his eyes.

"The Killing Curse rebounded off the boy and hit Voldemort instead. His body turned to dust. He was reduced to something less than a ghost, but he survived; although very few knew that."

"You were that boy." John said and Harry nodded.

"Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the friend of Lilly and James Potter, my parents, took me to my mother's relatives. From that night all I had left of my parents were the memories of their screams and the green light of the Killing Curse. For the next ten years I lived with my magic hating relatives. A cupboard under the stairs was my bedroom. I cooked for them since the time I could reach the stove; I cleaned the house and the garden. I thought my name was 'boy' until Grade School. I was my cousin's punching bag. They told me my parents were killed in a car crash; that that's where I got my scar."

"Scar?" John inquired and Harry reached up to brush his bangs back a little. Over his right eye was a fading lightning bolt scar.

"When I was eleven I got my acceptance letter for Hogwarts. I found out the truth and I was told by Dumbledore that what saved me that night was my mother's love." Harry huffed and a mockery of a smile twisted his lips. The hand with which he brushed back his bangs lowered to cover half of his face.

"I was eleven when I saw a man crumble to dust under my fingers when Voldemort possessed him to try and get the Philosopher's Stone. In my second year I destroyed my first Horcrux, although at that time I didn't know that yet. In my third year I was almost killed by Dementors while trying to save my godfather who escaped from prison." John shivered at the mention of Dementors. He heard of them; demonic creatures that sucked out all the happiness one had only to replace it with the darkest, most painful memories.

"My godfather was wrongfully accused of betraying my parents and I watched the real traitor run away." Harry lowered his hand, hugged his arms around his waist and his face turned into a grimace of pain.

"In my fourth year I was kidnapped from Hogwarts with - with-…" his eyes closed and his voice broke. "With a friend. Cedric - he was killed right in front of me and my blood was used to bring Voldemort back."

"Harry-…" John spoke but Harry shook his head.

"In my fifth year my godfather died when I went to retrieve the prophecy. In my sixth year I learned about the Horcruxes and watched as Dumbledore was killed, and my world, the world I truly belonged to succumbed to fear and death. A year later I learned that something was kept from me; the means to the end." Harry swallowed harshly and seemed to pull in on himself.

"Ron, Hermione and I - we set out to find the Horcruxes and destroy them. What we didn't know was that Voldemort made another one. A Horcrux he never planned to make." John felt his chest tighten and he felt like he swallowed his tongue.

"I was the last Horcrux. A part of Voldemort's soul was sealed inside the scar; a part that split the moment he killed my mother. That was why I survived, and that was why I had to die." Harry opened his eyes and locked them with John's wide ones.

"I went alone to face him and stood still as he fired the Killing Curse. I was ready to die, but unlike you I chose to come back. I chose to finish things; chose to bring an end to pain and sorrow. In return I lost a very dear friend. I was accused several times of going dark. I served six months in Azkaban prison among Dementors, reliving the worst moments of my life over and over and over again, until Ron and Hermione pulled me out." John swallowed over the lump in his throat. It felt like there was an iron fist around his heart.

Those haunting emerald eyes pierced his very soul. He could clearly see the deep emotional scars on Harry's soul and for the first time ever he actually found someone whom he could sympathize with.

"You see, John; you fear hell." Harry spoke in a raspy, strained voice and looked deep in John's eyes. "You fear Hell. I lived through it. And trust me-…" Harry bowed his head and tilted it to the side. "I would give anything to erase it from my mind. I would forsake my powers, my memories, everything to forget it all. But I can't." John swallowed around the lump in his throat and Harry raised his head to look at him.

"You and I aren't all that different, John." John looked away from Harry and nodded slightly.

Yes.

They weren't all that different.

Deep down John knew it.

And he also knew that it meant little.

It meant so very, very little.

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Angela wiped a tear off of her cheek and pushed away from the living room door. She heard everything and her heart ached for the both of them. She looked at the hospital bracelet that had Isabel's name on it; the bracelet John pulled out of Hell.

She exhaled and went for her bedroom. They would do nothing for tonight. They all needed rest.

Tomorrow was a new day.

Tomorrow they would get to the bottom of this.

No matter what it took.

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Sharing stories and getting to know one another, eh?

Well, we all know where THAT will lead, hm?