It was the last thing he remembered. The sky flew above him, clouds racing overhead.
His body was dead before he hit the ground. And all he could do was curse his luck.
Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who killed Sirius, turned Neville's parents into little more than vegetables, and murdered him, was cackling.
But something went wrong. The killing curse had ended his life, but he could still think. His spectral body blinked.
Why was he still there?
It's not right...the prophecy cannot be denied!
Screw the prophecy, thought Harry. The damn thing systematically ruined his life!
You must go back. You are not meant to die by HER hand!
Like hell am I going back! I earned this break, so let me enjoy it dammit!
You shall get your rest, Harry James Potter. But you will not like it as much as you want. You have the mark of destiny about you, and there is no escape.
Go to Hell! He screamed mentally. The voice cackled, and threw him into another world. One where magic didn't exist in such large amounts.
His world blacked out as he faded from his home.
Train sat on the roof again. He didn't know why, but he always felt so at piece near the sky. Like he was meant to fly, if only he had wings.
He sat there, enjoying the moonlight as he drank his milk. Ever since he was little, he drank the stuff. It was probably because of that reason he was almost six feet tall. Stray cats always flocked to him because he shared his drink.
Then again, he was practically a cat himself. His nickname was Black Cat.
He drank his milk. He had another mission in the morning.
He closed his golden eyes as he lay down on the bed. He didn't like the killing, but that was his job.
"I've come to deliver some bad luck."
The gun rang in the night. His target was definitely dead. If not, then he had to be superhuman to survive a shot to the brain. His feet ran as fast as he could. He had to escape before what little security remained tried to stop him. Not that there was much left after he knocked them out.
He didn't pause when he felt Creed appear. The man always stalked him, even when asked to leave him alone.
The only consolation was that the creep at least stayed out of his flat.
Though he seriously doubted that Creed couldn't get in.
He finally stopped near a cafe. That word always left a bad taste in his mouth.
A memory of a black dog with friendly blue eyes always hit him when he heard that word...then a vision of him falling into a strange curtain thing.
He sat down, and enjoyed his cup of tea. He always preferred the drink, instead of coffee.
When he left, he laid down a good tip for the waitress.
He was back in his flat before the sun rose.
He really needed to get his own transport. He was tired of the cars that Chronos made him use. The things never had their heaters or air conditioning working.
He checked his stash of pay. Chronos didn't encourage keeping their paycheck out of the banks, but they didn't say they couldn't. He had more than enough to last him three months. Especially if he found an old building or one under renovation. He could handle living in a place that wasn't exactly pleasant.
He was a cat after all.
Train walked into the dealership and found one he liked. He remembered something similar from his memories.
By the time he got another mission, he was ready to drive his new motorcycle.
He tied his helmet on securely. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a cop getting on his case about the safety laws.
As he flew through the night, his coat fluttered in the breeze. The numbers tattooed on his chest were clearly visible.
Thirteen. He always liked that number. And the moniker Black Cat...always amused him. His luck used to be phenomenally bad growing up. He was glad that he was the one bringing the bad luck for a change.
The vehicle roared in the night.
By dawn's cold light, Train was in the city where his target lived. He waited at a hotel so he could sleep. By midnight he was wide awake and ready to take out the tyrant. He made sure to eat a hearty meal before leaving. He would need the energy to drive all night.
Black Cat ran and jumped over the obstacles. If there was one activity he enjoyed, it was free running. None of the other Numbers had that particular exercise as a hobby.
His body flew in the sky and landed as soft as a cat's paw. Before the guards realized he was there, he knocked them out. He wasn't going to waste his bullets.
The man was in a church of all things.
"I'm here to deliver some bad luck."
The man screamed his last as he pulled the trigger.
Creed was back. How he managed to find out his missions before he did was a mystery.
He paid for his room and headed straight back to his flat. He was out before his head touched the pillow.
He was in a graveyard with another boy. Both of them looked confused to be there.
A gaudy cup lay on the ground, almost innocently. It was the reason they were there.
Suddenly a flash of green light hit the older boy. A flash of red knocked him out.
He awoke tied to a statue of an angel.
A rat-man approached him with a knife.
Train woke up with a sweat. That was one of his more vivid nightmares. He got them occasionally, but they were usually not that unpleasant.
He put a hand to his face. What were those nightmares about? They felt more like memories than anything.
His question was who the memories belonged to. A name always came to him, but by the time he woke up it was gone. He felt like if he knew the name, a lot of his questions would be answered.
He got up and took a long shower. It was the simple things that kept him going most days. Like a book he had never read before.
(Though where they vanished to when he was done he had no idea. Strangely enough, whenever he felt the urge to reread them, they always appeared out of nowhere on his table.)
He left his flat and walked down the street. A man wearing sunglasses passed closely by him, and Train took the envelope without any indication that he had it.
The red color told him he had another mission.
Why can't I ever have a vacation? He thought annoyed. It had barely been a month since his last assignment.
He decided to get it out of the way, and then request some down time. Every once in a while they would actually grant the request.
The only issue was that it wasn't often.
He got on his motorcycle and drove hard to the city. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could request that vacation.
He killed the man, and got out of there. When he saw Creed, he grimaced.
He wasn't going to file the request if Creed was going to follow him!
He brushed past the man and said nothing.
He filed the request, and to his shock it was granted. He was thinking somewhere sunny. It was getting pretty cold in the town he lived in. Once he packed his bags, he left.
The vehicle roared to life. Train felt someone watching him and winced. The only person who would bother him was Creed.
He fled the city before the man could think to bother him.
He paid the air port to transport his motorcycle. It didn't really bother him that he had to pay an extra hundred.
When he landed, he went straight to the beach and rented a surf board.
His body cut through the waves with ease. He had never ridden a board before, but it seemed to come naturally to him. Almost like he had done it before...
He was flying. The thin stick of wood seemed to vibrate under him as he tried to find the small gold ball.
Suddenly the stick jerked. He grabbed it on instinct. In less than five minutes, he was dangling on the thing. Another good move and he would fall to his death. Without warning it stopped as quickly as it began.
He swung on the thing and got back on. He sped to the ground and barely leveled out before he crashed.
The ball was within reach. He almost had it... then he pivoted onto the grass.
His mouth had been open, and the small gold object nearly got lodged in his throat. He managed to spit it out before he choked.
Train woke up. It was one of his more pleasant memories, that was certain. A name was on the edge of his lips.
It started with an H, that much he was certain. He took out one of his favorite tales and wrote it down on the cover. Perhaps he would get more letters as the more pleasant ones came?
Like any of the dark memories, he knew he wouldn't get any sleep. So he decided to take a run.
As Train ran along the beach, he enjoyed the sight of the moonlight on the ocean. He had desperately needed this break.
Then again, he would be swamped with missions when he got home. He finally stopped near a bookstore. It was filled with old books. And it was open until midnight.
He entered the shop, wondering if he could find anything interesting.
He paused at one shelf.
A guide to Animagi training and transformations, Healer's Helpmate, Ancient Runes made easy, Potions for Idiots, Spells and Hexes any Mage should know, How to create your own spells...
The list went on and on. But over half the shelf seemed to be reprints of the same books.
So he grabbed a few that looked more than mildly interesting. Especially the one labeled Animagi. The clerk didn't look very amused that he had grabbed them. At least, until he spoke.
"How many galleons do I owe you?" asked Train.
Train paused. Galleons? What the hell were those?
The clerk took a closer look at him, and his face became amused.
"Another one, eh? Looks like you haven't fully synchronized with whoever you got stuck with yet. Come on in the back lad, and I'll get you sorted out."
Train followed, unsure why he did so.
"First off, what house were you in?"
Train answered again, without realizing why he said anything.
"Gryffindor, but the Hat originally wanted me in Slytherin."
"Unusual combination, but alright. Wand type?"
"Holly with Phoenix feather core, eleven inches."
"I don't suppose you know your own animal form?"
"Father was a stag, but when I took the potion it came out large cat. Couldn't tell what type though."
"Care for Magical Creatures and Divination, though I dropped that."
"Six, never had a chance to finish seventh."
The man nodded. He had narrowed down who was in the boy before him.
"Today is your lucky day. I can increase the rate of the synchronization. And give you one thing from your past life."
Train was utterly confused at this point. What the hell was making him answer all these weird questions? But whatever was inside him nudged him again.
Another memory hit him...of a beautiful white bird soaring towards him. The bird was a source of many good memories, and only one bad.
"I want my owl back."
The man seemed surprised. Normally those who wandered in asked for their wands. Still, he went deeper into the store and brought out a large cage. Whatever was in there wanted out, NOW.
Train reached into his pocket and pulled out several gold coins he didn't realize he had. The man nodded and handed him his books and the cage, though his books were in a small satchel that went around his waist. He checked to see that they were all there, and was mildly surprised to find out that they all fit in there easily, and with enough room for more.
When he returned to his room, he lifted the covering off the cage. And stared in shock.
It was the white bird he saw in the memory. A name came to his mind, and he said it aloud.
The owl hooted in surprise, and stopped making a racket. It seemed to look closer at him, and flapped once.
Train slowly opened the door, and the owl did a walk along his hand onto his shoulder. The weight didn't bother him in the slightest. In fact, it almost felt right to have her there.
Exhausted from the excitement, Train fell into a dreamless slumber.
In less than a week, Train had gotten used to the owl. She was well behaved, which was the only reason he decided to keep her at all.
Well, that and the longer she stayed around him, the more of the good memories from the other side came to him. Along with letters to the name he desperately wanted to know.
He now knew beyond a doubt if he ever learned the name of whatever was inside him, his questions would all be answered.
So far he knew the first and over half of the second part of the name.
Very few names started with the first letters J, A, and M. So he was guessing it was either Jamie or James. Right now he was leaning heavily on James.
As he boarded the plane (Hedwig was in the baggage compartment, asleep) he got into his seat. In less than an hour on the flight he was asleep.
He woke up with two new letters and his headache was finally gone.
Harry James what?
He didn't have time to wonder as he got his new assignment. It was a murderer who managed to get himself appointed governor. A man named Lib Tyrant.
He wasn't going to complain. He had his break, and it was time to get back to work.
Though he did get a bit worried when Creed let it slip that he knew about the new resident in his flat. Train paused for a moment, and scowled.
"If you so much as touch a feather on my owl, I will wring your scrawny neck."
Train actually liked the owl, who got along fine with the strays around his apartment. She even brought mice and rats for the cats.
Creed made no sign that he heard him. But if the man dared to harm that owl, he would follow through. He liked Hedwig more than he liked Creed.