First Chapter of a new story. Tell me what you think...

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

I grew up in a horrible place. Everything started before my memory did, at the second battle of Hogwarts. It was supposed to be the final battle. The Order of the Phoenix threw everything they had at the Dark Lord, but it wasn't enough. Both he and Harry Potter had lived, but the Order was shattered beyond repair. Three quarters of the people who stayed to fight were slaughtered, my parents, Remus and Nymphadora Lupin, among them. My grandmother died almost two years later. I can't remember any of them.

The war went on in small factions, tiny pockets of rebellion that kindled just as much despair as hope. It followed me where ever I went, since my godfather Harry took me after my grandmother died. He was always distant and busy, with a smile that never reached his eyes and worry-lines that never disappeared. But I knew he loved me. And I loved him. But the constant struggle tore him apart as one by one his remaining friends died, and with each death he added another stone to his neck, another soul on his conscious. He mumbled their names in his sleep.

By the time I was thirteen, only Bill was left of all the Weasley's, and there was Luna Longbottom still. Seamus Finnegan, Kingsley Shaklebolt. Several others whose names I did not know or else quickly forgot. When I was remembered, the others would strive to teach me defensive and offensive spells I could use in case of trouble. I didn't have the opportunity to go to Hogwarts. Officially it is because my father was a werewolf, even though I do not posses the lycanthropy gene. Unofficially it was because my parents were martyrs, and I was raised by Harry Potter.

Since I was unable to get a wand, I used my father's, which Aunt Hermione had thought to save for me. She died only two months ago. I wasn't given details.

We moved constantly, changing headquarters erratically. The longest we stayed in one place was eight months. The shortest we stayed was only for a few days.

But even Harry Potter could not run from the Dark Lord forever.

It was a Tuesday when the Death Eaters fell upon us. We were in one of our safe houses, when the doors and windows were blasted open. Luna was hit by the rubble, down for the count before the fight had even started. The hooded masked figures swarmed inside by the droves, giving us mere seconds to comprehend that we were under an attack. I just managed to see an Inferi Kingsley with them before Harry grabbed me by the back of my shirt and pulled me into the hallway, out of their line of fire. He sent curses over his shoulder at them, and just before he could duck behind the wall with me, three beams of green light hit him. For a moment, I thought one had hit me too as the breath was torn from my chest. He didn't fall in slow motion, or fly backwards. He just crumpled on the spot, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and lay hunched and broken on the ground.

"NO!" I shouted, dropping down to his side, grabbing his shoulders, and shaking him. "No, Harry! You can't! You can't leave me all alone! You can't leave me here!"

His green eyes were open and empty and unseeing, staring past me. They lifelessly reflected my tear streaked face. I forgot about the danger and the Death Eaters, stopped even thinking about getting away. All that mattered was my only family was on the ground in front of me, dead. My sobs were drowned out by the cheers of our attackers, and I knew I had only moments before they killed me too, or took me somewhere else. I quickly pulled the glasses from his face and stuck them into my pocket before turning around. Two who weren't in the traditional garb were making their way towards me. One was a woman, a cruel beauty with pale skin and black hair streaked with silver. The other was a werewolf. There wasn't anything else he could be.

"Oh, lookie how his hair changes." The woman said in a sadistic glee, watching as it changed to black. "You must be my nieces brat, itty-bitty Potter's godson."

The werewolf laughed.

"Pleasure to meet you son. I was the one who bit your father you know. That makes us almost like kin."

"Greyback." I said. It sounded much more pathetic than I thought it would.

"My reputation proceeds me. I wonder what your daddy would think if I passed his legacy on to you. Would you like that? Would you like to be like your father?" He smiled.

"Don't you dare talk about my father!"

"Spunk!" The woman laughed. I cringed at the awful, unnatural sound. I closed my eyes and discretely reached into Harry's pocket.

"He will make a fine wolf. And if not, a chew toy. Young, sweet boys are always in demand." Greyback agreed.

I shivered at the horrible images that came to my mind at his lewd tone.

"He is responsive too, look at that. Scared, boy? Or excited?" he asked, his grin feral. My fingers curled around the screw I knew would be there. I had seen Harry place it in his pocket after our lesson that day on how to make port-keys. It was a failed attempt on my part, the destination far too broad and the spell cast only half-heartedly. Harry had stopped the lesson there, and told me we would try again later. Now it was my last, and only, resort. Worst case scenario, I died, which was preferable to what this monster had in mind. I was far more worried that it wouldn't work at all, or I would end up splinched in a place where I couldn't find help. I almost lost my nerve thinking about it. I opened my eyes again, and the terrible sight of Greyback reaching towards me steeled my resolve enough for me to say the password, and activate the port-key.

"Phoenix."