Well, Hi :D and Welcome to the NEW chapter of Harry Potter and the Wish of Life. And it’s been two years since I updated – I know, I know and I’m sorry!

What basically happened was that this chapter was by far the hardest to write as it had to cover a lot of plot in order to get to the point in the timeline that I wanted it too. I first completed the Chapter back almost two years ago – but my computer caught a virus and I had to wipe the harddrive. The chapter was saved on a floppy disk which then decided to not work – so I had to use one of those file saver programs to try and see what I wrote – which involved having to try and decipher the results. Since it had taken me so long to write and finish the chapter, I was somewhat discouraged, and putting the chapter back together seemed too big a task. Another problem was that my writing style changed within two years – so I feel like this chapter is sort of a mishmash of writing etc etc and that too made it difficult to finish.

I am sorry for making you guys wait, and I sincerely hope that there are still some of you out there who will like this story:D If I ever decided to stop writing this story (Which I won’t) I would make a note of it – not just abandon it! I hope you all enjoy the chapter and I can promise that the next one will be better :D

As there is now a nifty reply review option, I’ll no longer be posting replies to reviews within the chapters. If you don’t have an account you can leave your email and I will reply through that :D

Also, you should all go to my livejournal – the link is on my userprofile (Username is Usako3000) and friend (if you so wish) in order to see some of my other Harry Potter-verse writings which aren’t posted here, as well as my other drabbles in Harry Potter fandom which include a RPG (Of which I write the plots for) and a web-comic :D

And with no further ado:

Chapter 16-

His scar roared to life just as the shrill voice of Voldemort echoed from outside the school.

“Trick or Treat.”

Harry Potter and the Wish of Life

Chapter 17 – Holiday Horrors

The Great Hall filled with horrified screams at the sound of Voldemort's voice, but it was Harry’s shout of agony that echoed above all the others.

"Harry! HARRY!" Ethan was shouting frantically into his ear, his voice cracking with emotion. But the pain was engulfing Harry’s senses too quickly for him to respond, and lost in the tendrils of agony, he felt himself being pulled further and further away from the other students and the Great Hall. A rushing feeling filled his ears and then he felt himself hurdling through darkness until everything cleared.

He blinked.

The pain was gone, but before he could rejoice over that, an eerie cold brushed across his spine. Almost against his will, knowing what was to greet him would not be pleasant, he turned his face left to see Voldemort.

If he had been in his body his breath would have caught in his throat in horror.

He was different than the last time Harry had seen him. He was stronger. Magic crackled around his form while thin lips curled into a malicious smile as he surveyed the castle in front of him.

Harry's eyes then swung around the area in which they were standing, and became aware of the number of Deatheaters that flanked them on either side. He would have made a run for it, but no one seemed aware that he was there.

At the top of a tower, Harry's great grandfather appeared majestically. His eyes were such a furious light blue that they spliced through the night sky, and Harry wondered how Voldemort could keep his knees from buckling in fright. As that absurd thought passed through his head, Harry felt himself becoming choked with fear - what exactly was happening? Was he dead? Is that why he was out of his body? Panic was filling his senses as the Deatheaters raised their wands and sent bolts of shocking orange at the castle.

Hogwarts moaned and creaked, the air around it splitting and wavering.

"Tom, you have vastly misjudged your abilities here tonight." Dumbledore said darkly as the Professors appeared behind him.

“Really, Dumbledore?” Voldemort smiled cruelly, and a wave of hatred swept over Harry. With horror, however, he realised that although hatred for Voldemort was the most prominent feeling, there was rage at Dumbledore, at Hogwarts, at even himself. It was almost as if he was feeling what Voldemort himself felt. “Because I think that it is you who have misjudged your abilities.” Then, to the deatheaters, “Again!”

Upon his command, the deatheaters sent more bolts of orange and reds toward the castle. Hogwarts gave a mighty creak and Harry could see blocks of granite come loose from some of the taller towers. If he had been in corporeal form, his face would have scrunched up in horror, but as it was, he just felt overcome with helplessness.

This couldn’t be happening.

Voldemort’s wrist snapped up in a smooth motion, and from his wand burst forth a great ball of fire that headed directly toward Dumbledore and the other professors.

“NO!” Harry felt as if his heart was literally being ripped from inside of him.

Dumbledore, on the other hand seemed unphased, he simply lifted his hand and as the fireball moved toward the school it seemed to be engulfed from within itself by a splash of bright blue magic, effectively leaving nothing left of it except some traces of smoke that quickly dissipated into the air.

As Voldemort’s face contorted in anger and Harry felt surges of irrepressible fury when he knew he shouldn’t, Dumbledore glew a bright purple. The professors were all incanting, their voices slowly growing in strength as magic of all colors flew from their wands and began to spin around the school. The purple magic from Dumbledore gave rise to streaks of fleeting colors that circled the school over and over.

Taken back, some deatheaters raised their wands again and set forth another round of orange bolts.

“NO! IDIOTS!” Voldemort shouted furiously, having realised that Dumbledore was warding the school anew.

But it was too late, the orange magic had already rebounded and zoomed back at the deatheaters. As orange filled Harry’s vision, he was just barely aware of a spluttered curse by Voldemort who then apparated away with a pop.

The rushing feeling was back, pulling him back to his friends, his brother, his family. And then everything was just black.

- - - - - -

It was hours later that Harry had woken to the worried looks of his friends and family. He had stayed conscious long enough for them to inform him that they were all alright and that Snape had rushed him to Madame Pomprey after he had blacked out. Too shaken by the events that had unfolded, and his little trip out of his body, Harry had kept quiet about what he had experienced and feigned no knowledge of what had happened outside the school.

As he had fallen back to sleep, Dumbledore had quietly asked his parents to leave with him so that they could continue reinforcing the wards around the school. A tearful Lily had squeezed Harry’s hand, “But if he wakes up he’ll be alone!”

Dumbledore had looked around at Ethan, Draco, Ron, Hermione and Parvati who were all wide-eyed and clustered around the bed, and smiled wryly.

Harry had managed to murmur that it was alright for his mother to leave before he let slumber overtake him once again.

Unfortunately, sleep had soon evaded him, and he woke barely a few hours later to a darkened room. The hospital ward was empty aside from him, although the beds were full with his friends, who had obviously all decided to stay the night. At this knowledge, his heart fell particularly full, and he wondered what exactly he had done to deserve such great friends and family. Honestly, now that he had them all, Harry had no idea how he had ever survived without them in the first place.

Leaning back into the soft hospital bed pillows, Harry shut his eyes. Despite being unconscious for the majority of the night, he still felt an overwhelming exhaustion sweep through him.

It was just hard to sleep, though both his body and mind wanted it.

Screwing his eyes together tightly, he stumbled upon an appropriate remedy to his insomnia:

Settling back, Harry began going over Binns’ latest history of magic lecture.

As soon as the first date of the fifth Troll Revolution of ’s Hill spun through his head, sleep began to claim him.

As he fell deeper and deeper into sleep, the bed fell away beneath him, and the darkness trickled in all around him. The darkness began to get progressively thicker and thicker, almost uncomfortable until suddenly it cleared and all Harry felt was anger.

In fact, he was very, very angry. “You fool,” He began, looking at the small huddle of a man who was at his feet in the dimly lit room. “You told me that the wards would be down for at least an hour.”

The man crouched before him was trembling, and began speaking in tones that Harry felt he recognized. “I thought they would be sire, I thought they would be, my Lord. I apologize. My humblest, sincere apologies. I … was unable to have any other help on this mission, my Lord. I had to disable the wards a little at a time in order to keep from arising suspicions. The disconnection was shaky, and I had no idea that Dumbledore was that connected with the wards that he would be able to re-establish them so quickly. Next time, my lord. Next time I will be more efficient. I swear to you.”

Harry saw red. Or rather (he realised with sickening horror), Voldemort saw red. He was inside Voldemort. Bile would have filled his throat had he been in his own body, but he willed himself to stay calm.

“You should be begging me for the chance of another time, you imbicile. After this spectacle I should kill you where you kneel. I lost five men today.” He didn’t stress any of his words, it wasn’t particularly necessary. Everything he said was important. Harry felt ill as the vague filtering of Voldemort thoughts ran through his head. “You’re lucky your appointment at Hogwarts is important to me, otherwise…” Voldemort trailed off and Harry felt a jolt of amusement as Voldemort chuckled darkly.

“Yes Lord. You are most kind, my lord. Most giving. You are a great wizard, and I am weak. I am your humble servant. Whatever you want, master, I shall do.”

Harry tried to take a closer look at the man, but he was so shrouded in darkness that all the boy could make out was a cuff of dark purple beneath the Deatheater cloak. “Stop whining. Crucio.”

The man started screaming and Harry jolted, feeling cold pain surge through him as he began to scream as well. The sensation of hurtling through air filled his senses and the pain gradually receded into nothing as his eyes flashed open to find all of his friends clustered around his hospital bed.

Gasping in residual pain he sat up, emerald eyes flickering around the room wildly.

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked in a trembling voice.

“Are you alright?” Parvati supplemented, looking close to tears.

“Harry?” Ethan whispered worriedly, his hands wringing together, “You were shouting so loudly…”

Harry blinked furiously and rasped, his throat dry, “There’s someone at Hogwarts. Voldemort has someone at Hogwarts, and they’re going to try and take the wards down again.”

The air seemed to freeze around them as the children stood in the dark hospital room. The moon vanished beneath musty clouds, depriving the room of any slopes of light, and in one quick moment Harry felt the familiar weight of burdens on shoulders that were meant to be too weak to carry such things.

- - - - - - - - -

The next morning, Harry had rushed to find Dumbledore to tell all. His Great Grandfather had looked drawn and old in the aftermath of the previous night, and Harry felt worry squeeze at his heart. He told Dumbledore of the hidden Deatheater, but left out the fact that he had been inside Voldemort. That fact had remained with him. It was just too offsetting … too frightening to share. The anger and hatred that had pulsed through him while inside Voldemort had left him feeling tarnished.

Tainted with evil.

And he didn’t ever want his great-grandfather to know.

The headmaster had sent Harry back to class with the promise to look into everything as well as with a stern notice for Harry not to attempt any spy work himself.

The next month and a half flew by as the professors piled on assignment after assignment, paper after paper, and test after test on the poor fifth years. Quaterina Whiffle, a shy, fifth year Hufflepuff girl who Harry didn’t know at all, had become so stressed that she frequently fell victim to the faints. The Weasley twins even took to placing bets on when her next spell would be, and made quite a cleaning in the process.

Having no Hogsmeade weekend to appease them, Harry and Ethan had cornered Lupin and begged him to take them to London to buy presents for their parents. Unhappily, and with a sour glare at the boys as they fixed their puppy stares on him, he had agreed, and the three had spent a lovely day in the city, avoiding the occasionally hobo and visiting both muggle and magical shops alike.

For their mother, the boys had bought a magical music box in the shape of a crystal lily. It played any song you could name, and bloomed magnificently as the notes tinkled through the air. They added in some of her favourite chocolates and a pair of earrings just to be extra mummy’s boys. Their father had been a little harder to shop for, but finally they had come across a red cloak made from blood red rose petals and woven with threads of gold, that they thought would look particularly spiffy on the elder Potter. A pair of national standard Quidditch gloves finished off their father’s gift.

With a book for Hermione, Parvati and Shobhita, (though Harry didn’t mention that last one to anyone), sugar quills and chocolate frogs for Ron, and a broomstick servicing kit for Draco, Harry was done his Christmas shopping for the most part, with only a few random gifts for his Grandparents, his dorm mates, and his brother left.

Harry had also found an incredible motorcycle helmet at Magicking Muggleness that mirrored the sky much like the ceiling at Hogwarts did, and had purchased it for Sirius. His heart had then immediately sank in misery when he had finally remembered that he could never, ever give it to Sirius. Instead of returning it, however, Harry stored it in his trunk, its presence somewhat mollifying him, you know, just in case.

Ever since Halloween Dumbledore was constantly missing from the daily activities of Hogwarts, and Harry’s detentions had been forgotten in the stress over the wards. This left Harry feeling very put out, as after the recent events, he felt even more in dark about this world than ever before. Harry had a feeling that Ron didn’t quite like to address the issue, as he was always too ‘busy’ to answer any questions Harry had. Thus, sans Ron and Dumbledore, Harry was getting more and more agitated as questions about this world mounted.

The dreams from the past he would have had if his parents had lived had become somewhat of a constant in his life. They were usually short and gave no real information, but they fed Harry with tidbits of belonging and history that he never felt privy to in the past. He had yet to read through his journal, and was planning to spend the majority of Christmas break doing so.

Goodbyes were said as his expanded group of friends left toward their own respective homes for the holidays. Everyone had been so sad to be separated that no one even made a single irritated peep when Parvati and Draco indulged in a rather extended goodbye snog in front of everyone.

Harry had expected to have a lot of quality family time once home at Godric’s Hollow, but his parents had been tied up in some order work that involved the wards and the possible culprit. Nonetheless, they were able to spend more time together as Christmas Day approached and Godric’s Hollow was soon decked in obscene amounts of tinsel, lights and globes of bright colors. A giant Christmas tree took up most of the lounge, and presents filled every nook and cranny beneath it.

On Christmas Eve as Harry quickly wrapped his gifts to his brother, he took a moment to glance around his room fondly.

This was what he had been waiting his entire life for, what had been missing all those years. Hedwig was curled up on her perch beside his bed, his father’s image was relaxing against the edge of his Quidditch poster, peering out in interest at Harry’s wrapping ability. And God Rest ye Merry Hippogriff’s was playing somewhere downstairs, as his mother placed the decorations they received from the church’s candlelight service on the tree.

“Hey.” Ethan poked his head into Harry’s room, his eyes immediately lighting with interest as his sights fell upon the rather shoddily wrapped presents. “For me, is it?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “No, for my other brother, you dumb git.”

A grin flashed across Ethan’s face, “You’d still love me best. Anyway, it’s almost 12 Harry. Potter Family tradition coming up in five, four, three, two, one.”

“Oh right,” Harry said, “I know.” Actually not knowing anything, Harry then just stared dumbly at his brother.

Ethan looked at him for a moment before scowling, “Well, come on then. You’re rather slow on the uptake aren’t you? I’m surprised you’re even wearing your Christmas Pajamas.”

Harry flushed and looked down at the red pajamas decorated in tiny shimmering Christmas trees and bells. He had found the pajamas laid out on his bed this afternoon and albeit a little embarrassed, had donned them. Ethan wore a matching pair in green, and unlike Harry, seemed altogether very pleased to have them on.

Placing Ethan’s present on his bedside table, Harry turned to follow his brother. The two walked into their parents’ room where Lily and James were reclining in their large bed. With nary a thought, Ethan flew across the room, bounding in between his parents and shoved his legs beneath the thick red comforter.

Harry hesitated at the foot of the bed, unsure of what to do.

Sipping at a mug of steaming cocoa, James raised one dark eyebrow at his eldest son. “Harry? Too old to have our Christmas Eve indoor camp out?”

Hearing this, Lily’s eyes grew large, “Oh Harry!” She gasped, disappointment in her voice, “Really, darling?”

“No!” Harry shook his head, trying to calm his mother, “No, er, just that Ethan’s so fat I’m not sure there’s room for me.”

A pillow came hurdling at his head, and with a laugh Harry slowly knelt on the bed, and knee-walked his way over between his mother and Ethan. Squishing beneath the downy comforter he settled back against the fluffy pillows somewhat awkwardly, vague fake memories of doing this when he was younger flitting through his head but not long enough for him to grasp them.

James levitated two mugs of cocoa over to the boys, the smell of chocolate and marshmallows filling Harry’s senses as he grasped it carefully in his hands.

“Alright,” Their father raised an eyebrow at the two youngest Potters, “What’ll it be this year? Santa: A wizard’s tale or Alphard and the Reindeer?”

Somewhat astounded, Harry was silent as Ethan seemed to think, “Wizard’s tale! We saw Alphard last year.”

And as his father tipped his wand at the wizarding television and a badly animated cartoon about Santa Claus, the awkward wizardling, started with a choral number entitled: Poor Santa and his red, red hat, Harry finally knew what Christmas really felt like.

- - - - - - - - -

“So, Harry – have you had your first kiss yet?” Sirius asked merrily, a floppy santa hat perched on his head as he ignored the gift in his arms to tease his godson.

“Papa Padfoot!” 14 year old Harry reddening quickly, contested at the same time as Lily whirled around and smacked Sirius in the shoulder.

“He’s only fourteen, Sirius!” James protested only to be silenced by the looks Remus and Sirius both gave him, “What?”

“When you were fourteen, James,” Remus began, his sandy eyes sparkling with ill-concealed mirth.

“You were already on second …” Sirius continued, a dark eyebrow raised as both the younger Potter boys leaned forward in curiousity.

“Second level of my infatuation with Lily and reading my bible every night!” James scowled, “Listen here Harry, don’t go getting any ideas from these stupid uncles of yours.”

“I’d like to take this moment to point out that in seventh year I beat you by one entire grade level in Charms.” Sirius crowed, swinging his legs up and dropping them lazily on the ottoman in front of him, “So you’re the stupid one here.”

Remus sighed as James opened his mouth to talk, and relegated himself to eating a chocolate Santa Clause.

“And I’d like to point out I was able to dye your hair green that very same year, and it lasted for an entire month because you couldn’t figure out the counter charm.” James smirked, sending a wink to his sons.

“And I’d like to point out that I want to open more presents!” Ethan scowled, fixing the adults with a dark glare, “Mummy, can we?”

Harry’s mother laughed, “Well, if everyone’s finished their first round, then why not.”

As everyone scrambled to choose a gift to open, Sirius popped a cinnamon candy into his mouth and lazily tugged at the red ribbon that encircled his gift. “Hey, what do you lot say about spending next Christmas at Grimmauld Place?”

Everyone in the family looked up at the mention of the address, and Sirius kept talking rather quickly.

“I mean, we spent it last time at Lupin manor, and it’ll be good. The new wife and I would love to have you guys in next year, I’m sure.”

“Seriously, Sirius?” James quipped pathetically, receiving a sofa cushion in the face, and no laughs for his trouble.

Ethan and Harry both looked particularly excited at the news. “Grimmauld Place? Really?” Ethan pushed, “Not Black estates?”

Sirius grinned, “Way to hate Black estates.”

“No!” Ethan spluttered, “But I mean – Grimmauld Place! You hate it there! But it has all those amazing passageways, remember Harry?”

“Yeah, of course!” Harry grinned enthusiastically. “They were so cool.”

“Cool, indeed.” Remus said drolly, “Remember when we took Ethan and Harry there once, Sirius? They must have been around five and seven. We left them alone for five seconds to grab a book from the library and came right out to find them missing. It took us five hours to find them in all those passageways.”

Sirius laughed, “Oh God, yeah. Remember that! You two didn’t find the place half as exciting after spending half an hour in the corner with my hag a of mother screaming at you from her portrait.”

Remus and Sirius chuckled at the memory.

“Hold on …” Lily began, her eyes glowing, “My sons got lost in that death crypt of a house and you never told me! James, did you know about this?”

“Uhh….” Sirius stalled.

“Umm….” Remus stammered.

“Ahh…..” James stuttered before reaching forward, his hand wrapping around his wife’s wrist and pulled her into his lap in order to lean down and kiss her hard. Shrugging at her accusatory glare as they pulled away, he pointed up to the mistletoe sprig that he had just magically moved above their heads. “Tradition, love, tradition.”

As his mother glared at his father while trying to fight a smile, Harry clambered up on the sofa seat beside Sirius, looking at him with earnest eyes. “So really, Sirius? We’ll really have Christmas at Grimmauld Place with you next year?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “Of course kid,” his free hand looped around the boy and ruffled his hair, “Stampeding Rats couldn’t keep me away.”

- - - - - -

Christmas dawned bright and early the next morning, and Harry jerked awake from his dream about the Christmas past at six in the morning. For a few moments he lay thoughtfully, remembering Sirius’ excited expression at the idea of spending Christmas altogether.

But he wasn’t here anymore.

As Harry tried to struggle over the wave of depression that always followed any thoughts of Sirius, he was nudged in the side, and turning slightly, he saw his brother’s eyes open.

“It’s Christmas.” Ethan said in awe.

“It’s Christmas.” Harry whispered back reverently.

There was a moment of silence before Ethan leapt up on top of the bed and began jumping, “CHRISTMAS!”

James and Lily both woke with a start as their mattress threw them into the air as soon as Ethan landed on it. Harry scrambled up to join his brother, grinning wildly.

“I get it, I get it.” James complained grumpily, a hint of a morning shadow on his jaw as he sat up, “Go brush your teeth, we’ll be down in a minute.”

Ethan grinned childishly before dropping violently down on the bed and scrambling of it. Harry paused to give his parents an apologetic look before a mischievous grin overtook his features and he jumped on the bed twice with force, sending his parents spiralling in the air. He ducked the smack James sent him with a laugh and raced to catch up to his brother.

A few moments later the family of four were knee deep in presents, ribbons and stockings. Unlike previous years, or at least what Harry had seen in his dream, the present opening wasn’t nearly as organized. Nor were the other members of the marauders present.

Even after his rather indulgent birthday, Harry was still in awe of the number of gifts that he had to sift through. It seemed almost everyone in the wizarding world knew the Potters, and given from the amount of wrapping paper that filled their lounge, an entire forest may have been destroyed in order to wrap all the gifts that had been sent to them.

Out of all the gifts, the most outstanding were the wizarding televisions from their parents (Of course, Harry was somewhat speechless at the sweater that Aunt Petunia had sent him. A sweater! That actually fit! Harry was pretty amazed given that the most he could have hoped for in his previous world was a bag of lint. Seriously. She actually gave him one for his seventh birthday.). The tellies which Harry knew were rather expensive were immediately adored by both the boys, but a damper was put on it when James informed them of the parental control placed on them.

“Dad, are you bonkers? We’re Fifteen.” Ethan scowled.

“Exactly. You’re not an adult, not by far. I don’t want you boys watching the news and getting your heads filled with all that stuff – no, don’t argue.”

Harry’s heart had sunk since as soon as he had set eyes on the television he had thought that finally he could learn more about this world he was in – but with the news cut off from them, there was nothing it could help him with unless he wanted to watch some of those wizarding soaps that Parvati always giggled on about. Regardless, he wasn’t about to argue with his parents about it, and instead decided to take the initiative and force some information from Ron.

After lunch Harry excused himself from the table and firecalled the Weasley’s.

As the familiar redhead’s face appeared in the fire, Harry grinned.

“Happy Christmas!” Ron greeted, a purple paper crown that clashed horribly with his hair sitting lopsidedly on his head.

“Happy Christmas,” Harry grinned, “Your majesty?”

Flushing, Ron rolled his eyes, “Christmas crackers. Ginny’s absolutely mad about them for some reason. Did you get any good loot?”

“Yeah-“ Harry began, not wanting to brag in the least, “You?”

“Yeah – say, did you hear from Hermione or anything yet?”

“No, why?”

“Oh, I er, just wanted to see if she liked the perfume I sent her.” And immediately Ron’s face turned bright red.

Harry shook his head wryly, “Perfume, Ron?”

“Uh yeah, just cause, you know, girls like that sort of junk – and er, I wanted to soften her up so she’ll help more with my homework next term – yeah, that’s it!” He looked rather proud at coming up with a good explanation. Too bad Ron was by far the worst liar known to man.

“Right.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Er, anyways – are you by yourself, or?”

The redhead frowned a little, “Yeah, why?”

“Listen, Ron.” Harry said, looking interestedly at Ron’s face in the fire. “I’m getting really antsy staying here, not knowing everything that’s happened. I know, like, we haven’t had time to talk about anything, but I figure a few minutes now wouldn’t hurt – yeah?” And before he could say no, Harry plowed right on, “Like, I mean, how about you just tell me what sort of stuff happened last year?”

Ron looked a little uncomfortable and put out as he tilted his head, “Well, er. A lot of things happened, Harry. Er, we had a triwizard’s tournament. You were chosen as a competitor along with some players from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Then Sirius,” He paused, “Well, Sirius died and you wanted to help with finding him – but the magical bond that tied you to the competition prevented you from leaving the vicinity of the school. You were so pissed.”

Harry nodded darkly, “Right.”

Ron glanced around as if making sure no one was behind him at his house before continuing, “You had a third task thing at the end of the year, it was this huge maze, and there was this trophy at the end which you had to get to. But it was this portkey secretly, it had all been a set up. Harry, you got kidnapped by You-know-who in an attempt to make himself more powerful. He took your blood, but you managed to escape when he tried to kill you. After that you didn’t really talk to any of us,” Ron looked caught up in the memories for a moment, “You know Shobhita? Well you two were sort of …” he flushed, “crushing on eachother. But after that you both decided to sit on it, or more, I suppose, you decided. You were so hurt after that tournament, Harry.”

Harry felt the back of his neck grow hot at the thought of a mutual crushing involving the girl in question, “Yeah – well like, I told you anyway – we had a triwizards tournament as well, but Voldemort only got his powers back then – before that he was like nonexistent since I was a baby.” Harry tilted his head, “What about Voldemort? And his deatheaters? How powerful are they exactly? Dad doesn’t even want us watching the news at all about that, which I find weird.”

Ron winced at Harry’s use of Voldemort’s name, “Well, pretty powerful. You know, Hogsmeade is even shut down because of their influence. My Dad says there are probably loads of hidden deatheaters and everything. Don’t get me wrong, a Deatheater doesn’t exactly just walk down the streets proclaiming that they are one unless they’re already known as one, like Draco’s wanker of a father. A lot of the older senior deatheaters like him are known because of the length of time they’ve been one. You can only hide things for so long I suppose. Mum doesn’t really let us get all the information in the newspaper, but Hermione owled me the other day about an attack in Birmingham. Fifteen muggles were killed, as well as a muggleborn.”

Digesting the information, Harry was about to continue his questioning when a voice from behind had blasts of freezing horror shooting down his back.

“Why are you asking Ron about deatheaters, Harry?”

Ron’s eyes widened and he stuttered something before vanishing from the fireplace as Harry whirled around to face his little brother.

“Well?” Ethan prodded, leaning against the door frame.

Defensive instinct immediately turned into Offensive for Harry, and his eyes narrowed, “Why exactly were you listening to my private conversation, Ethan?”

His brother looked a little surprised at the anger growing in Harry’s eyes, “You were in here for so long – and I wanted to use the firepl-“

“So?” Harry snapped, “The door was closed – I was using it, you shouldn’t have interrupted. You should have waited! And then you thought to listen in? What the hell, Ethan?”

The youngest Potter’s hands curled into fists, “Oh give it a bloody rest, Harry. You aren’t some god to go about dictating where I can go in this house. Merlin! It always has to be about you, doesn’t? Perfect Harry, King of the universe! Oh, and with a giant ego to match.” Ethan spat furiously, his cheeks red at being told off by his brother.

And the worry at being found out, along with the irrational anger at his brother then blew into humungous proportion, and Harry launched at his brother sending the two of them tumbling to the ground in a whirlwind of fists and legs.

“You stupid brat!” Harry shouted as his fist caught the edge of Ethan’s jaw.

“Bloody wanker!” Ethan wailed back, managing to knock the air out of Harry with a well placed knee to his stomach.

Within minutes Harry found himself being hauled off his brother by strong arms.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!” A very angry, very scary Lily Potter shrieked as she surveyed her two sons, both bruised and breathing with some difficulty.

His father released Harry as Ethan scrambled to his feet, their angry gazes turned to dust beneath the wrath of their mother.

“Lily, calm down,” James began, but the boys’ mother would have none of it and instead turned blazing green eyes on her children.

Both Harry and Ethan felt very small all of a sudden and stepped back unwittingly.

“No. Look at them, James! Look what they did to eachother! And on CHRISTMAS! You, you –“ Lily looked at a loss for words and instead pointed one damning index finger to the door, “Both of you UPSTAIRS. And don’t you dare even show your faces down here today, after how disgracefully you’ve acted. It’s Christmas, and we’re FAMILY. And you two are in SO much trouble. Go. Now.”

Not needing to be told twice, the two boys sped out of the study as if their shoes were on fire. They both reached the staircase at the same time, and crept up it silently. At the top, as they each turned to go to their own separate rooms, Ethan sighed.

Harry turned and looked at his little brother, taking in his black eye and bruised face and sighed as well.

“I don’t really hate you.” Ethan mumbled crossly beneath his breath.

“I was an idiot,” Harry relented, “You’re not a brat. Most of the time.”

Ethan grinned and suddenly, like that, they were all right again. “Mum is going to kill us, you know.”

“I know,” Harry grinned back, slinging an arm around his brother’s shoulders, “Come on, let’s go play a board game or something before she breaks all our fingers-“

And laughing, they set off toward Harry’s room.

- - - - -

Having found the boys friends once more, Lily had been appeased enough to only ground them for the rest of their holiday. Unfortunately for Harry, this had been a particularly bad punishment as he wasn’t able to contact Ron again, and being hauled up at home had made his mind murky with even more thoughts and questions.

A few days past Christmas had found Lily and Ethan travelling to Diagon Alley to pick up some new school clothes for the youngest Potter, and Harry had decided that this would be a particularly good time to visit the Weasleys.

Shrugging on a coat, Harry had wandered down to the lounge where his father was reading. Walking over to the fireplace he reached for the bag of floo powder that lay on the mantle.

“Er, Harry where do you think you’re going?” James lifted an eyebrow as he put down the text he had been pouring over.

“To visit Ron for a bit,” Harry offered.

James laughed, “No, Harry.”

“No?” Harry turned, surprised, “What?”

“You’re grounded, my boy. In case you don’t remember. That means no visits to your friend’s house.”

Harry’s mouth dropped. Even when he had been at the Dursley’s he had always been able to go visit the Weasleys despite them being against it, “What? But Ethan went yesterday!”

“For a project.”

“Dad, come on,” Harry’s tone was becoming frustrated, “Since when do you even care about this stuff?”

James’ expression set and he stood, “Harry, you’re not going.”

“That’s not FAIR!” Harry said angrily, “I. Want. To. Go.”

His father walked past him and swung open the door that led to their back gardens. “Dad, you’re being so ridiculous, I’m going and –“

“It’s perfectly fair, and I’m not going to stand here and argue with you. Out. Argue with the trees all you want.”

Harry mouthed wordlessly at his father before his expression turned stormy, “You are the worst father EVER.” He snapped, striding past James and walking outside, slamming the door behind him.

Angrily kicking a nearby Christmas gnome away, Harry stomped through the back garden toward the forested area toward the back of the Potters’ land. He dug his heels in deep, creating large footprints in the previously unmarred snow, and taking great pleasure in destroying something.

But as quickly as his anger had come, it quickly drained, and Harry began to feel very guilty. Leaning against a tree trunk he looked back towards the manor and felt tears begin to burn at his eyes. His father was angry at him.

And suddenly Harry felt as if he was the worst person ever.

As a child, Harry had stared up at the ceiling of his cupboard and knew, just knew, that if he was ever given the gift of a family, that he would be the perfect child. He wanted it so much: a family, parents, love. He would have done anything to get it. He wouldn’t have taken it for granted. Ever.

But here he was, given the gift, and he wasn’t being the perfect child. Not in the least. He was being rotten, throwing tantrums like Dudley, and saying words meant to hurt his parents in order to get them to give in. More tears flooded Harry’s eyes and putting his head on his knees, he gave into the sick feeling in his head and let himself drift off into a restless sleep.

When Harry finally opened his eyes again, it was to greet a darkened sky. Sharp pains stabbed his neck as he moved, having had fallen asleep in an awkward angle against the tree behind him.

For a moment he couldn’t quite think straight before the events of the afternoon came back to him. Standing (wincing as he did so), he stretched. His mind was made up to go in and apologize like nobody’s business - although given the color of the night sky, his father would probably be furious with him for having disappeared like that.

Hoping he wouldn’t get into too much trouble, Harry began to make his way out of the forest. A few minutes of walking had him facing his house, and instantly blasts of orange and red lights greeted him.

People surrounded the house, various carriages with flashing lights covering every inch of the periphery. Vaguely, Harry thought about how his mother would be particularly irritated as she hated having the snow around the house darkened by mud when people walked all over it.

His feet took him all the more faster toward the Manor, his heartbeat racing, blood roaring in his ears. Merlin, his parents must’ve thought he went missing and sent for an emergency squad. They would be furious to find that he had but fallen asleep.

Nearing the crowd, a tall bald man with a gold earring that looked vaguely familiar to Harry turned around.

“Harry-“ He started, a strange expression on his face.

“Hey, I’m okay, I wasn’t missing, I just fell asleep – can you call my Mum and Dad? We don’t need this search squad.” Harry was talking quickly, his pulse speeding as he blinked rapidly.

“Harry.” The man said again, this time more softly.

And unwillingly, though some part of him had somehow known that this wasn’t a search squad, Harry’s eyes flashed up toward the sky. There, above the house, he was greeted by the eerie glowing smile of the dark mark.

To be continued …

So the Potters home has been attacked! Is someone dead? Who was the Deatheater who did it? All this and more NEXT CHAPTER – it’s going to be dramatic! I’m aiming for about 820 reviews with these 17 chapters .. if we do that, the next chapter will be worked on like mad by me! So, please do REVIEW! And as always I will reply to all your reviews – because they mean a lot to me :D