Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Anita Blake or have any rights to either of them.

Chapter 1

Harry gasped for breath, choking on both his blood and Voldemort's. That's right. Even as he lay dying, the monster that had ruined so many lives was dead, now just another corpse on the ground. But as he lay on the blood stained ground, staring at the sky, he noticed something that made the little blood he had left freeze in his veins - a full moon. But even as he noticed, he was hearing the dreaded sound.

A low growling filled the air, causing the little hairs on his arms to stand up straight.

A brown werewolf (with fur matted with blood, dirt, and other things Harry would rather not think about) came out of the Forbidden Forrest. Already dizzy from blood loss, darkness completely swallowed his vision as the wolf form of Fenrir Greyback moved towards his slit throat. Harry Potter gritted his teeth and snarled right back at him. "Come and get some Greyback," he grunted through the pain.

Harry groaned when he woke up, blinded by the pure white of St. Mungo's. Remus Lupin moved into his line of sight strangely silent, his form wavering slightly even as he silently gave him a sip of water for his parched throat. When he was done Remus said, "Fenrir Greyback bit you."

The soft smile on Harry's face froze as he swiftly contemplated the reactions that people would have to that particular bit of information. "I need to leave." He also apparently needed some glasses again, because Remus was wavering really badly.

The words had been softly spoken with a sad look, because Harry didn't want to leave, but it would very likely soon be the only viable option. Remus took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded before murmuring, "Your family has a house in St. Louis. It's not much, but there's a pack of werewolves, and other weres, there if you ever decide to go for Pack."

Harry smiled and nodded, but in all reality he kind of doubted that he would ever go for Pack. He never had liked the feeling of relying on others, and as a Submissive he would have to. He chewed on his lip and delved into his own head for a moment, listening to the snarls of a fight with a wince. His family, while being able to hear Lady Magic, also had Guardian Animals, and his just so happened to be a Wolf Spirit, one of the greatest. The Trickster Loki. He paused, and then realized that he still had his bloody pants on which were now stiff with dried blood.

The medi-witches had taken off his shirt though, and cleaned his wounds. He was, admittedly, rather surprised that one had dared get so close to a monster. Harry wasn't just thinking of being bitten either. He had done some terrible things during the War. He swung his legs off the bed and then stood, carefully testing his rather shaky muscles.

A medi-witch came in and immediately screamed for help, bringing in several other medi-witches and a Healer. One of the medi-witches, obviously Muggleborn, pulled out a silver cross and shouted, "Begone, Demon," while pressing the cross into his stomach, right above his pants line.

He hissed and stumbled back, cursing the shoddy workmanship of the cross, particles of silver sticking in the wound, leaving it unable to heal. He had always loved the look of silver, but had never used it for Remus' sake. Now it looked like that wouldn't be the only reason he wouldn't.

He shot a desperate look at Remus before Disapparating when it was clear that he would do nothing to help. In fact, he just stood there, giving Harry the saddest look that he had ever seen. The medi-witches looked confusedly before asking one another, "What was he looking at?" None of them had a clue, so after one more cursory search around the empty room, they left.

Harry fell to his knees and retched, still able to feel the burning of the silver in the wound even as it closed, leaving a permanent scar on his body. The betrayal of the medi-witch actually hurt more than the wound she had inflicted. Medi-witches were supposed to heal, not harm. That was part of the Code they swore by. Harm no one, and never speak of a patient.

He staggered to his feet, desperation twisting in his eyes as he Apparated to the one place he could always go. The Weasley's. But when he appeared there were screams of terror, and Hermione was brandishing a silver cross in his direction. "Get out," screeched Molly Weasley. "Isn't it bad enough we had to be kind to the werewolf? Now you were bitten and then, we find out that you're part demon! I…"

Harry abruptly cut her off by Disapparating. In his mind, both man and beast mourned the loss of Pack, and he couldn't do anything about it. Hell, he didn't even know if Ron was still alive, although he assumed not. After all, he would have never allowed his mother to speak to Harry like that, ever.

After a while of simply choking his sobs and shaking violently, he forced himself to calm down. But before he could fully calm down, a bloody and broken Remus Lupin stumbled from the fireplace. Frozen for only a moment, when Remus started swaying he was right there to guide him to the couch. "M'sorry," Remus slurred, eyes glassy after being administered the pain potion. "Couldn't stop 'em. So sorry…. He trailed off.

Harry looked away, taking in a shaking breath, knowing that Remus was now dead. Harry swallowed before nodding firmly. It was obvious that a Necromancer was at work for the Ministry, because Remus' wounds were far too severe for him to have stayed alive throughout it all, even with werewolf healing. He refused to think about the fact that that meant that Remus couldn't have been in the hospital room with him. He didn't have the Ghost Whisperer gene damn it!

But, now he knew it was time to leave. Perhaps the Muggle world? It had been all over the news lately, weres and vampires and such being accepted in the Muggle world especially in St. Louis, and that was where Remus had said his family had a house. Maybe they'd accept a werewolf/half wolf demon/necromancer too. He firmly ignored the fact that Remus had obviously not truly been there in the hospital room.

He glanced through the list of properties he'd found on the table with the potions, and without much thought, his eyes narrowed in on one. He skimmed through the details and nodded, it seemed perfect for what he had in mind.

He looked at the information and started to grin. Not only was it the very same property Remus had told him about (he wasn't thinking about how it was impossible, with such extensive wounds, that he would have been able to be at the hospital with him), who would expect him as a werewolf, to go to the city with the highest paranormal activity in America? No one would expect it, since he had always tried to keep away from such places, and the attention that they brought. Yeah, that settled it.

Harry Potter was shedding his name, and Ashton Black would take his place. He smiled sadly. It was what Sirius had said that he would always want to name a son. He nodded to himself yet again. Harry Potter was going to St. Louis.