DISCLAIMER THE FIRST: It is by JKRs writing alone I set my mind in motion.

It is by the grace of coffee that

thoughts acquire speed, the back acquires strains, the strains become a warning. The warning is that I make no
money from this. It is by JKRs writing alone I set my mind in motion.
DISCLAIMER THE SECOND: This fic is approved by the baby-eating Bishop of Bath & Welles.

CHAPTER ONE - A GRAVE MATTER

MANOR DE RIDDLE CEMETARY, LITTLE HANGLETON, UK JUNE 24th 1995
EVENING
For a moment Harry could do nothing but watch as the shades of his parents flew towards
Voldemort. Then it dawned on him that while Voldemort was engaged with the spirits, all it took
was one of the Death Eaters to be watching him to sound the alarm. So ignoring the pain in his
arm, Harry bolted towards Cedrics corpse.
As bad luck would have it, Lucius Malfoys confidence in the Dark Lord was enough for him to
keep his wits about him and thus he saw Harry sprinting away. My Lord! The boy flees!
Voldemorts serpent-like eyes instantly tracked to where the Boy-Who-Lived was running. With
an indistinct roar, Voldemort push out his aura in a crackling of dark magic. The ghostly afterimages of those he murdered seemed to burst into an ethereal flame and were no more.
You cannot escape Fate, Harry Potter! Voldemort called. The surrounding Death Eaters
couldnt help but shiver as a wave of something which could only be described as sickly washed
over them.
Avada Kedavra!
The green bolt flew true and struck Harry in the chest as the boy had turned at the sound of the
Killing Curse. Without a word, he crumpled to the ground next to the lifeless body of the
Hufflepuff champion, striking his head on a gravestone on the way down. None of this was

surprising to the Death Eaters yet all were shocked to see their master give a startled gasp as he
too collapsed to the ground.
OoOoO
Harry Potter awoke to the smell of incense. He was pretty sure it was sandalwood as Professor
Trelawney often used it in her classroom. She felt it helped set the mood for proper Divination
but most of the students suspected it was to cover up the smell of sherry which seemed to
permeate the room.
Harry opened his eyes and found he seemed to be in what could only be described as something
out of 1001 Arabian Nights. Harry was clothed in something which to him looked like it was
Turkish. He also noticed his arm was healed and that he felt no pain from the other bumps and
bruises he had from the Final Task. From somewhere there was the sound of a sitar being played
along with an odd shuffling sound like an animal trapped in a hedge. Harry rolled over from the
cushions he found himself on and oriented on the sound.
Do not bother, young Harry. That what you hear is beyond help.
Harry turned towards the deep, resonant voice to find a bearded man decked out like a sultan
watching him as he puffed on a hookah pipe. Harry had to admit he had never seen a man who
radiated masculinity as much as this man (was he a man?) did. Even so, Harry looked over
towards the sound he had heard earlier to see what appeared to be a baby. However the babys
skin was red and blotchy and he could almost feel the reek of evil coming off of it.
The man gave a deep, rumbling chuckle, I am afraid even your saving people thing would not
help it. As I said, it is beyond redemption.
Harry couldnt take his eyes off the flailing baby. He wanted to help even as he was revolted by
it. It almost reminded him of Voldemorts form before he was put into the cauldron by Wormtail.
What is that thing? he asked.

That, my young friend, is the piece of soul that was your curse scar. Like the shade of Tom
Riddle which was in the Diary, it was a piece of Voldemorts soul. When you were hit with the
Killing Curse, it was removed from you. When we leave this place, it will be sent to its infernal
reward. the man said. He took a deep drag and began to blow perfectly rounded smoke rings
into the air.
Harry blinked at the mans casualness. You are telling me I have had a piece of Voldemorts
soul in my head since the attack of 1981?
The man nodded, As well as the piece from the Diary. It merged with the scar piece after you
destroyed the Diary with the basilisk fang. Voldemorts soul piece in you formed the basis of the
connection between the two of you. However, unlike what Im sure your Headmaster believes, it
isnt the reason you are a Parseltongue. I am the reason for that.
It was beginning to dawn on Harry of the unreality of what was going on. While everything
looked real, he felt clean, rested and clear-headed. None of these things were how he had been
feeling when he faced Voldemort. And you are? Harry asked.
The man laughed a booming laugh, Yes! Yes! Introductions must be made. I, my young friend,
am Samael. Lord of the Lilin. Harry noted how he said pronounced his name Sah-my-ale in
the Old Way.
Alright Lord Samael, Im Harry Potter which you seem quite aware of. Where are we and how
did I get here? Plus I guess I should find out what you want with me. the boy asked.
The man smiled, The where is easily answered. We are in between Life and Death. A personal
limbo if you will. In a sense, this is all in your head. It is real and unreal at the same time. The
how is simple; you were hit with a Killing Curse by Voldemort. However, by using your blood
to resurrect himself, he took into himself some of the blood protection your mother cast upon

you. While he lives, he cannot kill you with the Killing Curse. Your soul will return to your
body as long as you wish it to.
Samael leaned towards Harry with a serious look upon his face, As to what I want of you Harry,
I wish I had the time to tell you the long history of the Akasha. Suffice to say that a long time
ago there was a race of beings in another dimension desperately looking to escape the coming
death of their home. Wizards summoned us as demons and while we chafed at this, we eagerly
sought a way to escape here. Fate conspired against us and the Veil Between Worlds shifted
trapping a many of us here. One of my brethren, a being named Agni, interrupted a dark ritual
which a wizard had meant to bind his body to one of us to make himself immortal. Thus the
vampires were born even though what you know as vampires are actually what we call the
Nosferatu. The man paused before grinning, All of that is neither here nor there.
Samael took another drag on his hookah before continuing. Lady Lilith figured out a different
way for those of us remaining to bond with humans so we would not die out. She was the first
succubus while I was the first incubus. There is a great deal I wish I had time to tell you of Lilith
and the Lilin we spawned but sadly while time moves differently here, there is not enough to tell
the full tale.
Harry gave a start as Samaels reached out and placed his hand on his shoulder. The man had
barely seemed to have shifted yet he moved so fast! Harry, I do not have time to tell all but
know this. We incubus are usually spread out over many children. Unlike a succubus who is
mostly in a mother and her daughter, incubus can be in many males at once. However, if these
males die, the power jumps to one of the remaining hosts. At one time I was spread out over
many wizards. I was a whisper in their ear, bending them towards the salvation of the Akasha.
Samael stood and for a moment his form seemed to shimmer. We are running out of time.
Harry, all of my energy rests in you now. All of my other hosts are dead except Sirius Black.
However the effects of potions given to him while he was in Azkaban finally have eaten at him
enough to render him sterile which is like death to beings such as I. You are now my only host

and my only hope. If you die, then after more time than you can comprehend, I will cease to
exist. Thus what I want from you is simple; I want you to survive.
Harry was silent but as everything in the tent (to include himself) shimmered again, he found his
voice, So you are in me, controlling me?
Samael laughed, No Harry. Voldemorts soul kept you from hearing my voice. Even know,
even with all of me in you, I would be a mere whisper in your soul. I do not control you, I live
through you. In time I, nor any Akasha, will no longer need host bodies if Fate is kind. For now,
I give to you, like many in lines like the Blacks, the gifts of the Lilin. We are partners even if
only one side knows of the deal.
Harry gave a start as everything faded to a white nothingness leaving only Samael, the bit of
Voldemorts body and himself. Even their clothes disappeared. Samael looked sad, I hope that
perhaps we will have time to commune again, Harry James Potter, but that is out of both our
hands now. All I can say is this; you struck your head after being hit by the Killing Curse. You
are very hurt and Im not sure how you will survive. If you do survive, know that with
Voldemorts soul fragment out of you, you will come into your full Lilin powers as well as being
free from the magical bonds which siphoned off your magic to feed all of the wards and tracking
charms placed upon you. With all of me in you, you will be THE Lilin in a way. I wish to
survive and for that I need you to breed. Regardless of this selfness on my part, I would ask you,
young Harry, that if you do escape that you attempt to truly live. You have merely existed since
the day you survived Voldemorts first attack on you. You have been manipulated and lied to.
You friends and enemies are often not who you think they are. You deserve a life of your own.
You are young but have already earned what should be a heros reward of a good life.
Harrys vision began to fade but as he seemed to be blinded by the white nothingness, Samaels
voice called out, You are an heir to many legacies, Harry James Potter! Be the Lord you were
born to be! Be the Marauder you were meant to be! Be the hero you were destined to be! Be
the lover I know you can be!

OoOoO
Voldemorts eyes flew open to find the tip of Lucius wand half-way through what was probably
a diagnostic spell. The blond wizard gave a start and quickly moved his wand away from
Voldemorts face.
My lord! Can you hear me? Lucius asked cautiously.
Voldemort almost snarled at this but checked his anger. With serpentine grace he quickly got to
his feet. He felt weak and it felt like the very blood in his veins was hot. What happened,
Malfoy? Speak!
Lucius bowed his head, You collapsed for a brief moment after you struck down Potter. You
were unconscious only for as long as it took me to step to you and begin my diagnostic spell.
Voldemorts eyes narrowed at this, Wormtail!
Yes master? the scruffy man practically squeaked.
Voldemort gestured towards Potters corpse, Go over there and AK the body again. I do not
want any more surprises from Harry Potter.
Wormtail gave a bobbing bow and ambled over to the boy. It didnt look like he was alive but it
was hard to tell. Not that it matter to Wormtail. His hatred of the son of James Potter made his
heart sing that the boy was either dead or would be dead at his own hands in a moment. With a
sharp jab, Wormtail cast the killing curse.
Yet just as he did, he was blinded by a brilliant flash of fire. Blinking away the spots, Wormtail
saw what looked like a bird made of fire was none other than Fawkes, the phoenix familiar of
Dumbledore himself. Wormtail looked down at Potter who looked just as still as he had prior to
his spell. It was done.

Voldemort couldnt help but cringe at the angelic (if highly angry) trilling the phoenix was
making as it flew over them. Seeing the look of satisfaction on Wormtails face he made a
decision, Death Eaters! Return whence you came. I shall contact you again very soon. He
turned to Lucius, Take me to your Manor; we do not yet have the strength to deal with the Old
Man or the Ministry.
Lucius nodded as he took Voldemorts arm, While the old fool will know of your return, I am
certain Fudge will be too scared to believe Dumbledore. Time is on our side, My Lord! With a
multitude of cracks, one by one the Death Eaters apparated away until the cemetery was empty
except for the two bodies and a phoenix who warbled a mournful cry before it too disappeared.
WEST BOUND ON HALL LANE, UK JUNE 24th 1995 EVENING
Im telling you, me boyo, that Ive never seen the like! Not a scratch on the boy yet dead as me
mum, God rest her immortal soul. Paramedic OReilly shook his head before he zipped the
body bag back up. The lack of any wound on the dead boy was creeping him out. At least the
other boy had the decency to be bleeding from his wounds before they patched him up even if his
vitals were so low they were hard to read.
Franklin Stewart reached over to hit the siren as the ambulance neared an intersection. He
wasnt happy because hed already seen one or two cars filled with fans coming back from a big
Power League game and it seemed obvious from their erratic driving they had had more than a
few. The problem was the route into Bolton would probably be filled with such cars. Dont
worry, mate. Im sure the docs will find a perfectly good explanation. Besides, while hes
young, kids his age do die of strokes, you know.
OReilly checked the unconscious boys pulse which again proved very difficult. I just hope
that Constable Featherstone will be a good girl and fill us in on the good gossip. What sort of
team name is Hogwarts anyhow and what where those two doing in a cemetery with a bloody

cauldron of all things? OReilly once again tried to take the stick which was in the boys hand
but as before he seemed to have a death grip on it.
I dont know. Maybe it was some sort of initiation? Or some weird sports magic. You know,
voodoo the other team? Franklin laughed. I know back at Eton we did a lot of stupid things if
we thought it might give us aOH FUCKING HELL! The on-coming cars lights had just
swerved into their lane.

Before OReilly could do more than look up in alarm at his partners shout, the ambulance
collided with the other vehicle. Both paramedics screamed as the ambulance hit the guard rail
and pitched over, rolling down the embankment before coming to rest near an ancient tree. The
ambulance was practically ripped in two with one whole side torn open. The car which had hit
them (filled with the same drunken football fans as EMT Stewart had worried about) fared little
better as it had flipped over onto its roof.

A can of petrol in the boot ignited when an

emergency flare broke in two and activated. The car soon was engulfed in flames. Neither the
paramedic nor any of the teenagers survived the crash.
If they had, they would have been shocked to see a small green girl seemingly step out of the
tree. The girl made her way to a body which had been flung away from the ambulance as it had
tumbled. The body had luckily landed in a patch of fen water. The girls feet glided over the
surface of the bog as nimbly as if it were a dance floor. For her this was natural as she was not a
little girl at all but a dryad who had lived within her tree for almost 200 years. The bog and the
river which flowed through it was as much her home as her tree.
The dryad looked down at the teenager whose clothes where ripped and who bled from several
small injuries. Yet his hand still clung to his holly wand. With a shake of her head she
whispered, This will never do.
HEADMASTERS OFFICE, HOGWARTS, SCOTLAND JUNE 25th 1995 EARLY
MORNING

Emmeline Vance cursed to herself for about the fourth time since apparating to the edge of the
wards around Hogwarts. Why did she have to be the one to bring the bad news? Beyond the fact
the besides herself, Dumbledore probably would have sent Arthur Weasley to the crime scene
and hed have been as useful as a boil on a bunion. For a man who worked with Muggles, he
was as clueless as almost every Pureblood she had ever met.
With a snarl she snapped out the password to the Headmasters office and the gargoyles seemed
eager to get out of her way. Vance tried to order her thoughts as the moveable staircase brought
her closer to having to break the bad news. As she neared the top, Vance could hear a spirited
discussion already in progress.
The door opened for her before she could even reach for the door handle. She was obviously
expected. Sure enough, Dumbledore was looking her way as she entered. The room was filled
with professors and one time members of the Order of the Phoenix. Well, perhaps current
members since Voldemort was definitely back.
Ah, Auror Vance, please come in and have a seat. Lemon drop? The Headmaster asked with a
gesture to one of the few remaining seats left in the office. While his tone was light, Vance
noticed his eyes didnt have their customary twinkle. She also noticed that none of the many
silvery objects which previous had been in motion, puffing smoke, or emitting odd noises from
time to time where active. She frowned grimly at this. She knew why.
No thank you, Headmaster. I do not believe it is the time for childrens sweets. Vance said
tiredly. She could feel the room grow even tenser than it already was.
What news, Vance? Did you have to obliviate those Muggles? You were gone longer than I
expected, asked Kingsley Shacklebolt. With Mad-Eye Mooney recovering from being found
trapped in his seven room trunk, he was the lead Auror for the Order present.

Vance looked around the room before answering. Molly Weasley seemed to have been crying
since her eyes were red and puffy. Professor McGonagall looked even more grim than usual
while Professor Flitwick and Sprout just seemed sad. The others in the room (most she knew
with others she only knew in passing) looked at her with apprehension as if they knew she would
dash their hopes. She noticed that Professor Snape wasnt there. She wondered if Dumbledore
had sent him back to Voldemort to spy.
Vance took a deep breath, I arrived in Little Hangleton alright and from what the Headmaster
was able to glean from Fawkes, finding the cemetery was pretty easy. Once there, I found it
overrun with Muggle Police. It was being treated like a crime scene by the local constabulary.
As odd as it might sound, they felt it was some sort of football prank gone wrong.
Kingsley frowned, Why is that?
Vance shrugged, I think it was because of the uniforms Cedric and Harry were wearing. They
look enough like Muggle sportswear that I could see how they might mistake it for that.
From your past tense use, am I to take it that the boys are in hospital or perhaps even in
custody? Dumbledore asked.
Vance cringed at the blatant, desperate hope which filled the Headmasters words. No, I used
the past tense because Cedric Diggory is dead and it is almost certain that Harry Potter is as
well.
Beyond Molly Weasleys blubbering wail, the room reacted to the news with silence. Seeing that
no one was going to say anything, Vance continued. I spoke with a Constable Featherstone and
she told me that officers responding to reports of weird lights in the cemetery found Mr. Diggory
dead on their arrival while Mr. Potter was unconscious from what appeared to be head trauma as
well as a knife wound to his left arm. Both Mr. Diggorys body and Mr. Potter were transferred
to an ambulance and were in route to the local hospital when the ambulance was hit by a drunk

driver. The ambulance flipped over the guard rail and fell down an embankment into a bog. All
inside were killed along with the driver and passengers in the other vehicle.
Vance paused to see if she needed to explain a bit more. Apparently everyone understood
enough so she continued, Mr. Diggorys body is with all the other victims corpses at the Bolton
morgue. Mr. Potters body is missing. However the ambulance had been ripped open in the
crash and there was debris scattered pretty widely. One of the paramedics bodies was found
about 5 meters from the vehicle. Mr. Potters body hasnt been found but there is a river near the
crash site. The police believe Mr. Potters body was thrown into the river and washed away.
They are searching for it now. However, from the damage done to the paramedics body which
was thrown clear of the wreck, it is highly doubtful Mr. Potter would have survived being ejected
from the vehicle regardless of being a magical. Even if Mr. Potter had survived the impact, he
most certainly would have drowned while being swept down river.
Vance gestured to the collection of silvery instruments off to the side. I also did various
detection charms along with the artifact given to me by the Headmaster. I could not detect Mr.
Potter or even get a trace on his body. I did find the residue from a great deal magic as well as
the spell signature of three Killing Curses as well as the Cruciatus Curse at the graveyard. Some
of the magic I detected was of an unknown type so it is possible the Dark Lord did something to
Mr. Potter even while leaving him alive. Whatever it was, it might explain why we cannot find
his body. That is all I have to report. We do need to contact the Ministry to have Mr. Diggorys
body retrieved by his family. I have also set a charm to alert us if Mr. Potters body is found by
the Muggle authorities.
The room looked at Dumbledore who seemed to have transformed from a kindly grandfather
figure to a very, very tired old man.

For a moment the Headmaster was silent as he absent-

mindedly stroked Fawkes feathers. Finally he spoke in a soft, sad voice, I had hoped Harry
was still alive. From what I saw in Fawkes memories, the Killing Curse Mr. Pettigrew cast
missed Harry by inches. I am surprised, I must confess, as to why Voldemort didnt kill Harry
himself.

Albus, I would think that if the Dark Lord used Mr. Potter in some way to further his
resurrection than perhaps he felt tied to him in some way, Professor Flitwick said.
Professor Vector nodded, I agree with Filius. Since the Dark Lord seemed to go through a very
convoluted path to take Mr. Potter and be resurrected on Midsummers Day then it stands to
reason he probably used the boy in a ritualistic way. The fact you said that Mr. Potter had a
wound where the Dark Mark is on Death Eaters would imply he was bled for the ceremony.
Sharing a blood connection might be enough to keep the Dark Lord from wanting to kill him
personally.
Dumbledore nodded, I agree. Fawkes was certain Harry was alive when he left. He would
have tried to heal Harry but it was lucky Fawkes had come far enough along from his Burning
Day that he could even apparate to Harry. A week earlier and Fawkes would have been unable to
fly and a week from now Fawkes could have taken me there himself. Dumbledore shook his
head as if he felt cheated by Time itself.
Dumbledore fell silent. The room waited expectantly. Finally Arthur Weasley asked the
question that was on everyones mind, What do we do now Albus? What do we tell the children
to say nothing of the Ministry? Fudge is going insane with all the uncertainties. The Bulgarians
are livid with Viktor being put under the Imperious Curse and the French believe this was some
sort of plot against Ms. Delacour as well. More importantly for England, with Harry dead, how
can we hope to defeat the Dark Lord?
Dumbledore didnt reply for a moment. Suddenly the old mans head snapped up and his eyes
were sparkling again as a hopeful smile broke out onto his face.
Albus? What is it? McGonagall asked. She couldnt believe Dumbledore could be happy at a
time like this! The Chosen One was dead and with it their hopes of defeating the Dark Lord.
What it is, Minerva, is hope. All of you know of the prophecy. However none here save myself
has heard the full prophecy. By not killing Harry personally, Voldemort has proven that we both

made a grave mistake. A wonderful mistake even as it comes at great cost in life. Dumbledore
said excitedly.
What mistake would that be, Headmaster? Professor Sinestra said in her soft, breathy voice.
We both felt Harry Potter was the Chosen One. It appears it has been Neville Longbottom all
this time.
The room looked at the Headmaster in unbelieving silence. Dumbledore couldnt help but
chuckle, We still have hope after all.
THE SPEECH HOUSE, DEAN FOREST & WYE VALLEY NATURAL RESERVE, UK
JUNE 24th 1995 LATE EVENING
Laura Gwynne bit her lip as she carefully made her way down path. Even though there was but a
sliver of the moon overhead, the stars shone brightly enough to light her way along the dark path.
As much as she wished she could take one of the forest paths, she didnt have a torch. It didnt
matter; she loved walking under the stars. It was rare to be able to get away to a place where
man-made lights didnt wash out the stars overhead.
Her thighs and back hurt to say nothing of the pain between her legs. Tonights john had paid
extra and even had tipped for her services. However the roughness of the nights activities made
it almost not worth the money. Laura had found over time it helped to walked it out instead of
just driving back home immediately. She knew even with a long soak, tomorrow was going to
be hell. Such was the life of a prostitute, Laura thought.
It wasnt the life she had envisioned for herself but then again Laura doubted any little girl
dreamed of growing up to be a call girl. Especially not one with a thuggish pimp and a heroin
addiction. While she was covertly working on her heroin addiction, the pimp was the real
problem considering Begbie was her pusher as well. Laura knew if he ever found out about her
covert trips to the methadone clinic, well she shuddered to think of what might happen.

Her musings were interrupted by a snap of a twig in the tree line not far from where she was.
Laura stopped and strained to see what had made the noise. While the Forest of Dean didnt
have any dangerous predators, Laura knew well enough that she might not be the only other
person out for a stroll. Dealing with drunks from the Speech House might be worse than a wolf.
Minutes ticked by as she stood motionless. She wished she wasnt so exposed but she didnt
want to move into the wood line since she wouldnt be able to see and would probably snap a
few twigs herself. Laura knew it was probably just a deer but living life on the outside of society
had taught her caution if nothing else.
A movement caught her eye but it wasnt a deer which emerged from the woods across the
clearing but what looked like a boy or a very short man. Judging from his awkward gait, Laura
figured him for a short, drunk man. She was about to continue her walk when she saw the man
collapse. She frowned to herself. As much as she didnt want to get involved, it wasnt right to
leave a guy passed out in the woods.
With a sigh at her good nature (it was certainly going to get her into trouble some day) she
carefully made her way over to the prone form. What she found surprised her. Her initial guess
of a drunken man was wrong. Instead Laura could make out that it was indeed a boy, no older
than 14 or 15. He was bloodied up pretty badly and his clothing was ripped and torn. She also
noticed that amazingly he was still conscious as his eyes were locked with hers.
Hey there! Im going to help you, okay? Youre hurt so let me help you, Laura said
soothingly. For some reason there was a wildness to the injured boy. Something primal and
even dangerous. She didnt want to just start helping him up without trying to show she wasnt a
threat. Her words seemed to work as the boys labored panting seemed to ease and the feeling of
menace faded.
Laura practically had to drag the boy onto his feet. For such a wiry kid, he felt heavier than he
should to Laura. Okay kiddo, Im Laura and Im going to walk you to my car, okay? You need

to help me out here, alright? For some reason it never entered her head to take him up to the
Speech House and call for an ambulance. Laura somehow knew it was better not to involve any
of the authorities. Of course a prostitute learns early to avoid having to talk with police no
matter what the reason. Dubious legality of prostitution or not, she was in violation of enough
laws to have her put away for a long time.
The wounded teen didnt say anything but let out a few gasps of pain as the pair made their way
to Lauras beat up Mini Mk IV. The teen was still silent and just looked at her as Laura buckled
him in. He started slightly when she had patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. Laura broke
out her emergency kit and pulled out some witch hazel and a wash cloth. It always paid to be
prepared for almost anything when out with a john.
Okay Sunny Jim, this is going to sting some but I need to clean you up a bit, okay? Laura
asked.
The teen just looked at her in a way which made her almost think he didnt speak English.
However he seemed to understand what she was on about. It took almost ten minutes to clean
his wounds, with the nasty cut on his left arm being the worst. Even though Laura knew it was
painful, the teen didnt make a sound as she worked. Laura had a sinking feeling it was because
he was used to pain and the stinging of the witch hazel was simply an annoyance to him.
Laura shook her head as she put her supplies away and started up her car. She had to be daft to
be bringing him home with her. It wasnt like he was a stray dog or cat. True, her flat had been
awfully lonely since her cat Buttons had died but it wasnt like she could keep a teen as a pet!
With another shake of her head, she pulled out of the parking lot and pointed her car towards
home. For some reason it seemed taking the teen home with her was the better option than just
dumping him off at hospital. Laura knew she was acting crazy but shed learned to trust her gut
instinct on things and right now she just knew that talking the kid home was the right thing to do.

She looked over at the teen. His green eyes seemed unnaturally bright as he stared out the
window. His face was like a mask but there was an undercurrent to him, a feeling of something
just under that blank face. Laura just hoped this wasnt the one time her gut instinct turned out to
be wrong.
XxXxX
A/N: Im trying to do a little writing everyday. The intent is to work on all my stories. On the
other hand, Im also going to write what I feel like writing. I felt like writing this so I did. I am
not putting any of my other stories on hiatus; I just felt like writing this.
Casa Voldemort: By author fiat, Little Hangleton will take place of Little Lever which is close
to Bolton. Likewise Greater Hangleton will take the place of Greater Lever. It is within the 200
mile radius from Surrey as state in GoF. (Although I wonder in the UK edition did it say 200
kilometers?) Historically Little Lever was part of the Barony of Manchester and was overseen
for the Baron by a Leising de Lever. A quick change to de Riddle and presto-chango we have
what I need. Since I cant find any manor house via Google Maps, Im using the Ladyshore
Cottage which has plenty of land, is on the river and there is plenty of land near by for the Gaunt
house to be hidden. I love Google Maps!
Legal Prostitution: From my research, prostitution is legal in the UK but there are enough
ancillary laws to make it practically illegal to actually do it. Having a pimp is one way.
Hate it but: I normally hate fics where Harry is referred to by a different name. Not that I
have an issue with it per se, but I dont like when Harry is using a different name and the author
uses it in all things. An example of this is in a fic I like Quoth the Raven, Nevermore by
GenkaiFan. If Harry is going my a pseudonym the author should still write things like Harry
said or Harry felt because he still thinks of himself as Harry even if hes using a different
name. Sadly, for a bit in this fic, Harry doesnt know who he is so until he does, hell be written
as if his name is Edmund Eddy James Black.