AN: I know I'm ridiculous! It's been forever since I updated! I have to be honest I was sitting on a good majority of this chapter for a while. I honestly couldn't post it because the pieces that were missing were kind of necessary to the whole plot. My excuses will remain mine as to why I took so long to post this chapter and I hope you'll just except the fact that this chapter is longer than usual as my authorly way of grovelling for your forgivness. Thank you for those of you who waited patiently for this chapter.

Just a reminder to everyone, Harry discovered a time turner in Ron's bag and used it. I would also like to note that I tried to eliminate a majority of the confusion that the time travel in this chapter may have generated.

Harry is in two places at once in this chapter. He essentially takes a forty-eight hour trip back in time and lives through four days in order to use the time turner again. I'm trying to stick with him as he rolls through his time traveling, so we will not be experiencing too many dual Harry moments. So if you are still confused please level any and all questions at me when you review.

Again, I apologize for the long wait and, as always, hope it lives up to the standards the last four chapters have set. This story remains without a beta, so excuse any mistakes you may find.

Disclaimer: Once again. I do not own Harry Potter or Twilight.

Defy the Stars

Chapter 5

The man stepped into the small cramped elevator, the heavy bags under his eyes becoming more pronounced in the fluorescent lighting. He glanced up at the notes that still lingered fluttering near the ceiling and pressed a button on the control panel. Running his hand through his mussed, mousy brown hair, a frown worked its way onto his thin pointed face as he wiggled on a black fedora.

Henry Jenkins had always counted himself amongst the forward thinkers in the Department of Magical Creature Regulation and Control. In his humble opinion, the regulations for monitoring the darker magical creatures that had sided with the Dark Lord were far too lax, though he would hardly say so in a public light. So when Dolorus Umbridge came to him a year or so after the battle of Hogwarts with projected regulations, who was he to deny a good idea when it landed on his desk in such a nice orderly package?

Once the bill was signed and the new policy put in place, there was an immediate influx of immigration from wizarding Europe to more open territories. Protests happened frequently amongst the differing magical creature communities. Protests then turned to riots, and violent preventative measures were approved of.

Things were beginning to get out of hand, and Henry began to doubt his decision to pass on Dolorus's ideas. Just as he was about to suggest a repeal, or at least some less restricting laws, Dolorus sent him yet another proposal. The newest angle insinuated that the riots were only dangerous if they were held amongst the citizens of Wizarding Britain and suggested that the safest course of action would be to segregate the general public. Henry was skeptical of this, though the more he listened to her reasoning the better the idea sounded.

With segregation came prejudice, fear and more violence. It wasn't long until key members of the ministry supporting the new sate of things began to end up missing or dead.

Henry sighed as he stepped out of the ministry's visitor entrance, the rain tapping lightly against his fedora. Squinting through the dankly lit street, he spotted a bus stop some yards away from the booth. With yet another sigh he started trudging towards the stop. Though nobody blamed him for the deaths of the people that had been found brutally murdered, he couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for the whole mess in the first place.

"Henry…" The whisper on the wind caught his ear. He turned his head from side to side, quickly scanning his surroundings for any signs of life as he wrenched his wand from his pocket. He tugged his fedora down lower over his eyes, and hugged his briefcase to his chest.

"Who's there?!" He called out timidly, eyes darted back and forth. He strained his hearing, desperately trying to hear anything over the light pitter patter of the rain on the pavement.

"Henry!" The female voice rasped out, as if in his ear, followed swiftly by an unhinged cackle. He stopped and twisted about on the sidewalk, his eyes bloodshot and straining into the drizzle. A startled cry worked its way past his lips as his wand flew from his grasp and into a shadowed alley. "Henry, Henry, Henry!" The voice began to sing his name to the tune of 'Ring around the Rosie', the sound echoing around him and his head moved about rapidly. His breathing was shallow and his grip on his briefcase tightened as he edged towards his wand.

"Boo!" his vision suddenly filled with the deranged and emaciated face of Bellatrix Lestrange. Her hair fell wildly in her face and her skin was sunken and sallow, glowing sickly in the yellow lamp light.

"Please, please don-" He whispered, knees quaking; she interrupted him with a hissed incantation and a flash of deadly green light.

"From your ashes, the Dark lord shall rise once more." She whispered to the twisted body of Henry Jenkins as his blank eyes stared up into the street lamp. With another hiss and a sharp jerk of her wrist, his body was engulfed in flames that sizzled and hissed in the rain.

Slowly she twisted about on the heel of her boot enjoying the sound of the gravel crunching underneath them, and began to hum as she took staggered swaying steps towards the nearby alley. Behind her, embers flared into the air as the late Henry Jenkins' ribcage collapsed upon itself, his skull grinning ghoulishly up at the street lamp.

"Ashes, Ashes, we all fall down."

Rain. That's all it ever seemed to do in London nowadays. Not that he was complaining of course, Harry had always quite partial to the rain. It had a sort of cleansing feel to it. The rain was one of the reasons he'd come to love Forks so much.

Green eyes glanced down at the copy of the daily prophet in his hand. The ink was starting to smudge and blend, looking much like a three-year-old's finger painting. But, like the rain, Harry found he didn't mind this either. He chucked the soggy paper into the nearest rubbish bin and crossed his legs as he slumped lower on the park bench. Harry could feel water sliding down his face, drops following the contours of his face as he tipped his face to the sky and closed his eyes. He stuffed his hands into his jacket pocket, and fingered his new wand enjoying the feeling of his magic welling up inside of him. Rosewood, thirteen inches, with a dragon scale core.

The title was still caught in his mind, along with the now soggy picture. There had been a slew of murders in London within the past few months. At first there was nothing other than the fact that they worked at the ministry that linked the victims to one another. Then, as Ministry regulations began making living as anything other than a wizard difficult, it all started piecing itself together. Only people that supported the new Magical Creature control methods were targeted.

The fact that it was ministry members who were attempting to strip civil rights from magical creatures threw Harry for a loop. Though the murders stank of Bellatrix Lestrange, it still didn't make any sense to Harry. Bellatrix wouldn't give two damns about civil rights of any creature or wizard she deemed beneath her. It seemed more like a cause Fenrir would kill for; however the bodies were found burned to a crisp, which wasn't the werewolf's style either. It was entirely possible that the two were working together, however the notion still seemed farfetched.

The Auror's were theorizing that it was more likely a brand new extremist organization hell bent on regaining rights for Magical creatures in Great Britain. However, if the last remainder of Voldemort's forces were behind all of this Harry was certain that McNair had been sent to America to lure both Ron and himself out of Britain.

Though Harry was willing to bank on deatheaters being behind the string of murders, the Aurors had a valid theory as well. But both ideas seemed to lack something, they both seemed off. He tipped his head forward, quickly taking note of the time on his wrist watch, staring down the well worn park path as he stood. Harry surmised he was sitting in the Lupin's kitchen back in Forks at this very second looking over Ron's things. He still had another twelve hours before he had to return to Forks. Twelve hours before he had taken his forty eight hour trip back in time. Disregarding his drenched clothing he took a few steps down the path and, not seeing any passer-byers, Harry apparated.

Wide red eyes hastily scanned over the area where the man with the impossibly green eyes, Potter he vaguely recalled, had just been. Gone, disappeared, like magic. The hazy memories bubbled to the surface of his mind again and he allowed the branch he'd been holding aside to snap back into its original position. He had tracked various people with green eyes over the past week or so, none of which stirred the memories, none of which had the right color eyes. None of them were right, until this one. Until this man, the man with powers just like his. The more he thought about him the more he was sure. Sure that this man could provide answers to his questions. He could give him the memories he was lacking. Fill the hole.

With a whispered oath, too quiet for human ears, Ron dropped from the tree. The fact that he could vanish without a trace provided strong evidence that the man was the one Ron was looking for. It also made finding him again a difficult task. Ron snarled and swung his fist into the trunk of the tree, splintering it, before he too disappeared with a snap and a black cloud of smoke.

The small foray into the past had given Harry some time to sort out his thoughts, and plan accordingly. Balancing his pencil precariously on a knuckle in his left ring finger, Harry took the chance to look over his second period class. The young student's heads were bent over their test papers. The sounds of pens and pencils intermittently scribbling over paper filled the room.

Harry had decided that he was going to use Ron's time turner to his advantage. As it was he didn't think he could slip away from the Lupins' watchful gaze without rousing their combined suspicion and worry, a scenario that had Harry cringing and sent the pencil plunging to the desktop with a small clatter. A few curious heads rose before bending again to their papers. Harry's eyes evenly met the molten gold gaze of Alice Cullen, before she too slowly dipped her head back to her test.

Once again balancing the pencil on his knuckle, Harry allowed his mind to wander back to the topic at hand. He'd already used up most of his sick and leave days for the year, and couldn't afford to miss more work without completely quitting and giving up…

He frowned. What would he be giving up by leaving? His cover? The pencil toppled back to the desk again, this time Harry allowed it to roll onto the floor, frowning at it pensively. He was to internally preoccupied to notice how he drew His students attention for a second time that period. Far too distracted to notice Alice's shocked expression as her fluttery visions of her professor disappeared all together.

Not only was keeping his distance from Harry a nearly impossible feat after Alice's visions had stopped completely, it was the most maddening display of restraint Edward had shown in weeks. Of course he kept his distance, allowing the man to work out his confusion, but it didn't mean he couldn't observe him in the mean time.

When he wasn't watching him during class, he was watching him through the minds of other students and faculty members. Watching him through the faculty members' was slightly more enlightening than observing him during lessons. Edward had noticed that he had become friends with two other teachers; Mr. Mason, Alice's Chemistry teacher, and Ms. Prather, Emmett's History teacher.

Around the two of them Harry truly let his guard down, he was tired and troubled, more so than ever before. Edward had to forcibly march himself past his teacher's desk after class, without even sparing the man a glance, in order to avoid a confrontation like the one in Harry's kitchen that had occurred not but a few weeks ago; no matter how much he wished he could have a repeat episode, preferably without the negative reaction afterwards.

Despite all of his seeming self control during the school day, it was after hours when he would perch in one of the taller trees bordering Mr. and Mrs. Lupin's property, preferably with a clear line of sight into Harry's bedroom, and do a little reconnaissance. He was watching the man flip through a photo album for the second night in a row, a pastime the man seemed to repeat multiple times a night, smiling wanly at whatever photos were housed within.

Part of Edward itched to enter the room when the man was asleep and look at the album for himself, for a better grasp on what the man's life was like before he came to Forks.

"I know you're up there." the English accented voice he'd only heard in passing, during his evenings of Harry watching, startled him out of his current train of thought. Edward peered through the pine needles into the wolf like gaze of Remus Lupin, inwardly cursing himself for letting his guard down. "You may as well come down here. We need to talk."

Edward debated for a split second before dropping to the ground scant inches from Remus. To his credit the older werewolf didn't flinch.

"How long-" Edward stood slowly.

"Long enough." Remus answered shortly, "What do you want from him?"

Edward narrowed his eyes at the man. "I won't hurt him."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Mr. Cullen." Remus quoted sharply, his own gaze sharp and defensive.

"You're trying not to make this about what I am, considering what you are." Edward smirked at the older man as he reared back confusion clouding his eyes. "You're thoughts are very loud, Mr. Lupin."

Remus smiled slightly before he breathed in deeply. As he exhaled his mind became muffled and fuzzy, his smile turned into a smirk. "I know what you are, Mr. Cullen. But I doubt you have the slightest clue as to what we are."

"He's in danger." Edward found himself blurting out aggravated with the werewolf before him.

Remus only smiled at him tersely. "When is he not?" The question was rhetorical and Edward found an unsettling feeling squirm in the pit of his stomach.

Harry flipped through the photo album for what seemed like the millionth time; staring at the faces of his friends, both living and dead. This time however, he was going to add some memories. He glanced at the picture that Josie had snapped of Harry in the Optometry office.

Harry was standing in the middle of a starch room, glasses lining the wall behind him, a pair of hideous leopard print frames perched on the very end of his nose. Sam's hunched form lurked in the background, smiling tersely as he held up a second horrendous set of frames, not any better than the ones perched on Harry's nose, for the camera to see. Harry's expression was an awkward mix of emotions. He appeared as though he were trying very hard to be annoyed and failing miserably. Harry chuckled at the memories before focusing on the album again.

He smiled as he came across a picture of Ron, Hermione and himself all laughing near the lake at Hogwarts. If he wasn't mistaken it was during their sixth year, Collin had eagerly taken the picture for them. He was about to flip the page, when something caught his eye.

A small scrap of paper was just barely sticking out from behind a picture of Ron and Harry playing chess in the Gryffindor common room, Harry seemed to be losing abysmally as usual. With cautious fingers, Harry slowly pulled at the small scrap of paper slowly freeing it from behind the picture. He turned it over in his hand and frowned, it was a safety deposit vault stub from Gringotts. Vault 4013. By itself, the number did Harry no good, without a key he wouldn't be able to find out just what Ron had been safeguarding in Gringotts.

He turned his frown upon the empty bag on the table before leaning forward and dragging it towards him. After going through all the smaller pockets and examining it for any concealment spells, Harry turned his investigation to the largest pocket. He found, after drawing his new wand and using a detection spell, a false bottom. With care he unraveled the magic Ron had set there. A small vault key rewarded his efforts; Harry made a mental note to visit Gringotts next time he used the time turner.

The goblin peered peevishly at Harry from over his half moon glasses as the young man rifled through his pockets. "It's in one of these." He mumbled, pausing as he remembered Hagrid had been in almost the same position as he had nearly half a decade ago.

A single sparsely haired brow rose. "I'm sure it is, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled sheepishly, as his fingers brushed against the time turner. Digging a bit deeper and clasping a hold of the vault stub. He handed it to the irritated goblin, Murok by the name plate on the front of the desk.

"Very well, Mr. Potter." Murok drawled before hopping, nearly comically, down off of his stool leaving Harry to his thoughts. Ron had felt that whatever it was he had in the lock box had been worth protecting. Why hadn't he just sent it to any of his friends and family for safe keeping? Why hadn't he sent it to Harry? They were in this together…had been in this together. It didn't make any sense to him.

The sound of the small wooden lock box being set on Murok's cherry desktop jolted Harry out of his thoughts. Murok's obscenely long fingers disappeared from view before the Goblin himself shimmied back up onto his stool. He straightened his comb over and folded his hands on the desktop.

"Mr. Potter, The instructions the late Mr. Weasley," Harry winced, "attached to this lock box were very explicit. You understand that there are hexes and jinxes attached to this box to confirm your identity, Bank Policy." Murok explained, imperiously pushing a folded white piece of paper towards the wizard.

Harry nodded, taking the sheet from the peering Goblin. As soon as his fingers made contact with the paper words began to scrawl across the paper, in Ron's handwriting. Swallowing hard, Harry carefully read Ron's message.

Harry,

I know what you're thinking. And I didn't want to send any of this to you without knowing for sure if it was good. Hermione always told me I tended to jump to conclusions.

Harry, this is really big. Bigger than just some vengeful deatheaters. We have to be careful on this one. Sorry about all the secrecy but under the circumstances I'm sure you'll understand. Constant Vigilance.

Harry looked up from the letter and then, in an odd mixture of sheepishness and suspicion, looked around. "The letter is spelled only for your eyes Mr. Potter there's no need for your paranoia." Murok drawled looking increasingly unimpressed. "Inside the box you will find a key, a picture and an address, also bewitched only for your eyes."

Harry flipped the lid open on the box and watched as Ron's familiar scrawl appeared on the slip of paper. 169 Higgins Lane, Apt 13B. He nodded handing Murok the slip of paper and the letter, he then slipped the key into his pocket, hearing it clink against the time turner. Harry thanked Murok, and after taking a glance at the picture of a small homely looking living room, apparated.

A wall sized collage of moving photographs, old news articles, hand written notes and pages from books greeted Harry into the apartment. Stepping forward, Harry nearly tripped over Vampiric politics and you written by Vlad Werner that was lying haphazardly on the floor. With a cursory glance Harry concluded that the small apartment had no doors leading to the outside world, a single fireplace, enchanted windows and looked like the Gryffindor common room after a victory party. Dirty laundry, books and take out boxes cluttered the floors and three out of the four walls were covered in the odd collaboration of paper and pictures.

As he picked his way through the both the colossal mess and the copious notes and pages of references, everything that had seemed wrong about the slew of murders, that missing piece of the puzzle, clicked into place.

The gardens were as stunning under the full moon as they were during the day. Red eyes scanned the trees and greenery, swathed in a pale light, with an unconcerned air. He tilted his head backward to allow his pitch black hair to fall out of his aristocratic face. Looking to his left at the hooded figure of a woman next to him, he smiled a small smile as she turned from gazing at the still pond to him, her slim pale fingers finding his own. Brilliant red eyes gazed into a second pair of equally brilliant red eyes for a moment, their already halting pace stopped momentarily before they resumed their pace and their fingers dropped away from each other.

"Aro." She inquired pushing her hood back to reveal a head full of dark black curls. Her eyes twitched off of him to gaze in slight concern at the large guards that followed yards behind the couple before she looked away across the pond. "It is beautiful out here."

Eyes never straying from the woman at his side, Aro smiled yet again. "Not as beautiful as you my love." Their tentative pace paused again momentarily as her eyes flickered from the pond to the pathway before them, her fingers trembling slightly as she tugged her long sleeves.

"Even after all these years, you still know exactly what to say." She smiled a lovely honest smile, eyes meeting Aro's and she once again reached for his hand. She frowned at her shaking fingers and drew her hand away from his before they touched and folded them into the hems of her sleeves. "It's so lovely here, I don't know why we don't do this more often." She offered, voice shaking slightly. Aro frowned, eyes trained on his wife's shaking hands.

With an index finger, Aro turned her head to face him. "Sulpicia, it isn't safe for you to be outside the tower unprotected, you know this." He let his hand drop and allowed a frown to crease his porcelain face.

"I don't feel safe here." She whispered, "I don't feel safe anywhere anymore." she began to wring her hands nervously, eyes flickering about the garden to emphasize her unease, "Where are Corin and Athenodora?"

Aro cracked a small smile, "In your rooms, my love; no doubt eagerly awaiting your return." An audible crack from nearby made the woman beside him jump, baring her canines at the tree line. The hulking guards tensed, moving closer to the couple in a flash. "Gentlemen, if you would kindly escort Sulpicia safely back to the tower."

Sulpicia reared away from the nearest guard as he reached for her arm. "The tower?" she inquired desperately, shaking off the heavy hand of a second guard. "Please. I miss this. I miss us, Aro."

"Sulpicia, it isn't safe anymore. You need to go back." Aro turned a heavy gaze onto her, his gaze softened at her shaking hands and wide feverish eyes, signs of withdrawal. A heavy weight dropped onto his heart as she was finally dragged swiftly from the park by the guards.

They were gone before the disheveled witch emerged from the tree line his wife had been snarling at only moments earlier. "Mrs. Lestrange." He greeted stoically.

"It has been done." She said airily, her dark, sunken eyes staring at him. "Soon they'll have no choice but to rescind the laws and you'll have to deliver your end of the bargain."

Aro allowed his lip to curl into a smile; it was quite unlike the smile he had given his wife only moments before. "Yes, you and your master will be reunited soon."

Harry tossed the shot back, the alcohol burning down his throat. He grimaced and slammed the small glass down on the splintered wood of the Hog's Head bar top. The wizened bartender threw the dirty wash rag over a shoulder and lifted the bottle to refill the shot glass, but Harry held up a hand to halt him. "'m done for the night, Abe." His words slurred slightly

Aberforth leaned forward, bright blue eyes piercing the side of Harry's face as he let the bottle settle on a shelf just under the cracked bar top. "You and that, thick headed red head friend of yours only come into my bar on few occasions, like when you've gotten a bit over your head." His voice was a harsh whisper and his gaze evaluated the green eyed wizard before him. Harry frowned and turned to face the man.

"What makes you think I've gotten over my head?" He inquired in an affronted manner, scrunching his nose up a bit at the suggestion. His new oval wire frame glasses slid down his nose to linger on the very tip.

Aberforth's expression instantly dropped into a disgruntled one as he withdrew the bottle he had previously placed under the bar and slammed it down on the bar top. "A man that has things together is often in one place at a time, and doesn't pound seven shots of Torgues in a thirty minute time frame."

Harry matched his disgruntled expression, taking a moment to glower at the bottle of Torques Turbulent Tequila and its cheerful proclamation of alcohol content, and leaned in closer to the older wizard, "That doesn't mean that I don't have everything under control."

"Really?" Aberforth, hissed leaning heavily on that bar. "Do you really have everything under control, Potter?

"Don't go there Abe." Harry warned gruffly, fists clenching.

"If I don't then who will?! 'Cause you certainly won't." Aberforth exclaimed, slamming his open palms onto the splintering countertop.

Harry peered over his glasses at his old ally.

Aberforth sighed at the small brunette wizard sitting at his bar. "You pretend to be in control, chasing after the wrong doers of the world. But I know you better than that Potter." Aberforth snarled leaning his face in inches from the young wizards own, wizened eyes locking with the smoldering emerald gaze. "I know you're running from it. You've been running since Granger passed on, and kept running when Weasley-"

Harry slammed his fist onto the counter violently making his empty glass jump. "Don't-"

"And now Potter, you're running from yourself!" Aberforth pushed past the younger wizard's interruptions, his eyes wide with conviction.

Harry kneaded his eyes with the pads of his fingers, breath short. "I-Bleedin-Sod it." He stopped and looked up through his fringe, breathing out deeply. His hand covered his mouth and he stared into Aberforth's wide eyed gaze.

"You're more like Albus than you realize. You can't run from yourself forever Potter." He stated, eyes narrowing again. "He did, look where it got him." Aberforth leaned back away from the young man. "I'm only telling you what you need to hear. You can keep running, Potter, but everything will catch up to you in the end. It always does."

He picked up a grimy glass and began wiping it down with a dirty rag as harry stumbled to his feet, his stool toppling to the floor. Harry stared dazedly through his fringe at the wizened old man behind the bar and without stopping to right his fallen seat, turned and falteringly strode from the Hogshead.

Daniel Urvings had spotlighted himself as a strong public supporter of the segregation laws during a press conference within the last month, and again during an interview with Rita Skeeter earlier that week. Harry had taken to shadowing the man after the press conference. His efforts seemed to be in vain however, there had been no signs of suspicious activity since.

Contrary to popular belief, stakeouts were a rather tedious affair, especially without a partner to keep you occupied. And Harry, having been awake for the past two days, was about to set up some simple wards and head back to Ron's apartment for the rest of the night.

Harry toyed with the chain of the time turner around his neck, enjoying the coolness of the metal as he watched the man enjoying dinner with his family. He allowed his eyes to shutter closed for a moment imagining the way the bed would feel under him as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Feeling himself start to nod off he quickly opened his eyes, training them back onto the dining room window. Clicking his tongue against his teeth he drew his wand, ready to cast the wards when a movement caught his attention. Swinging his gaze to the left, he saw a shadowy figure dart into an alley across the street. He frowned at the alleyway waiting for someone to reemerge. A minute ticked by and Harry resolved himself to going down and taking a look. With a stretch Harry apparated to the left of the alley, readying his wand he slowly peeked around the corner.

Eyes adjusting to the dark, he could see the shimmer of a disillusionment charm surrounding the darkly clothed form of Bellatrix Lestrange. She blinked twice before her expression slid into a pleased smile, every ounce of her demeanor screamed predatory insanity. Before he could duck out of the way again, he was struck in the face with a disarming spell. His wand flew from his clutches and skittered across the pavement.

"I should have expected whee baby Potter to show up." She simpered at him, throwing in a baby voice in an attempt to incite his wrath. "Been looking for me this whole time Potter?"

Panic seated in Harry's chest as he dove for his wand. He felt the time turner press uncomfortably into his chest, hearing a small crinkle as the glass no doubt cracked under his body weight. His fingers closed around his wand and he flipped onto his back raising a shield in time to block a nasty jet of orange light.

He took in her sunken appearance, flicking his wand at her wordlessly firing off a binding spell. She danced to the side cackling. "Still mad that I killed Him?!" She inquired a wicked grin on her face, stretching out her sallow sickly skin. He took this moment to move into a crouch, eyes assessing.

"Oh Potters lost all his fight." She cackled in an odd singsong voice, flicking her wand at him again, the sudden motion catching him off guard and his wand nearly flew from his grasp again. Standing he readjusted his grip before trading launching the first spell that came to his mind at the woman.

Her eyes gleamed in the dimming light, crazed, grin etched onto her face and body twisting and jerking as she dodged and blocked his spells. They matched each other spell for spell eyes burning into each other's. Bellatrix's grin had devolved to a snarl as he continued to block her attacks. After minutes that seemed to stretch their dance halted, both a bit winded from the brief and violent exchange.

The sickly grin worked it's way back onto her face, "I was wrong, Whee baby potter still has some fight to him." She cackled to herself, "That's good, it's no fun when they don't fight back." Harry once again readjusted his grip on his wand. She took advantage of this and launched another spell at him.

Caught in a faltering moment, Harry was unprepared for the cutting hex she volleyed at him as she twisted to the side. Hearing the shattering of glass seconds before he felt the spell impact with his stomach, he let out a shocked grunt.

He attempted to retaliate swinging his arm in a wide arch, only to have it move in an entirely different direction. He gazed in horror down at his legs as he seemed to distort for a moment, then with a familiar sensation tugging at his navel, Harry disappeared.

Ron had been stalking Harry James Potter with varying degrees of success, often losing his trail as quickly as he'd come across him. For reasons, that Ron was not yet ready to question, Harry had developed a recent fixation with a wizard. Said fixation making him so much easier to pinpoint, Ron considered this a proverbial gift horse. He had intended to approach the young man as soon as he caught sight of him, make him explain why his eyes were always on his mind and, once he was satisfied with the answer, remove him from his head. Ron had gotten within feet of the man when something gave him pause. He couldn't do it. For some reason he couldn't bring himself to harm the man, he just couldn't.

He had moved, more quickly than the human eye could see, to an overlooking rooftop and had been watching him watch the wizard ever since. Every movement, every small sound mesmerized him.

He had come close to the man on several occasions, never closer than when he first encountered the small wizard. Each time he approached he felt an onslaught of emotions and memories; they opposed each other and confused him. He would retreat just as quickly, just as silently, as he had approached. He had spent so much time watching him, so much time finding him. And now he had lost him again, all because of that woman. Lestrange, he'd called her. He narrowed a hateful gaze on the still cackling female in the alleyway. She would give him answers. She would help him find Harry again.

Red, for the life of him Harry couldn't find the significance for the color. Mind refusing to focus properly, so full of things he had yet to accomplish yet somehow had and things he ought not know, but did. His brow furrowed as he brought his hand level to his face rubbing his index finger and thumb together to feel the wet red substance. He looked from his hand to his abdomen, a spreading patch of the color decorating the region. His eyes widened and he looked up, understanding finally settling upon his features. Blood.

Unconsciously he sought out a pair of once topaz eyes. They were dark, as if the pupil had overtaken them. Emotions swam freely in them, Fear, confusion, hunger.

Harry looked back down at his stomach. "Oh." The word slipped from between his lips, his brow furrowing once more. He looked back up to see Edward rising from his seat, Ashley Baker screamed and Harry's world began to tunnel and tilt sideways.

"Harry?!"

Unfocused eyes shot open as his wound was jostled, Harry couldn't make his eyes focus on the blurry face only inches from his own. He felt strong cold arms wrapped around his person and he struggled to see Edward's pained face. "Stay awake, Harry." His black eyes stared down at Harry, blurring as the brunette's vision slipped out of his control again. They looked imposing and quite predatory, almost like two black holes just waiting to suck his soul away.

Harry let his head roll to the side, he watched as the pavement seemed to slip away underneath him an unnatural pace. A queasy feeling fell over him and his abdomen let its discomfort known. "Oh," Harry grunted out, teeth gritting violently together. "GOD!" He let his arms drag themselves over the wound he knew was there and he attempted to curl in on himself.

For a brief moment he felt awake, the thought that the pain was nothing compared to a cruciatus curse vaguely entered his hazy mind. A hiss slipped past his teeth, eyes retrained themselves on his reddening sleeves and he turned his head back to look at his student. Edward's soul sucking gaze locked onto his face.

As soon as the adrenaline rush began it seemed to cut itself off. Rolling upwards of their own accord, the young wizard's eyes slowly let his reality slip away.

"Stay with me."

Harry felt detached from his entire body. As he blearily stared up at the nurses and doctors as they hovered over him, yelling medical terms and orders. His mouth and ears felt like they were filled with cotton, his eyes began to roll around in his head again. The sounds around him began to mesh into confusing combinations. The machines beeping strung out into a singular long drawn out beep. Harry's eyes closed and he felt himself slip into darkness, accompanied by his Mother's dying scream.

He chanced a look around at his surroundings, at the misty white vastness of Kings Cross station greeted him. He barely glanced at the man that sat across from him, brushing off the feeling of familiarity, preferring instead to wonder where Dumbledore was this time around. In a moment of melancholy, Harry peered beneath the bench he sat on, startling suddenly when his own voice slipped out of the familiar stranger's mouth.

"He's not going to be there." Harry looked at the man across from him, really looked. He was staring at himself. But he looked older somehow. Or perhaps it was the red staining his double's abdomen and the world weary look in the man's equally green eyes. "But we already knew that."

Harry breathed in a deep breath as he felt his eyes drawn downward to his own stomach, finding no red staining his own button down shirt. He frowned. "How is it that you're there, If I'm here?" He asked his mind fuzzy on the subject.

His bloody double smiled at him. "Ah well I think it has something to do with the fact that when the time turner was destroyed, I had no way to exist in two places at once and merged with you, and summarily died of my injuries. My injuries then became yours and you died as well."

Harry nodded with a frown, "Complicated yet not." He agreed to the theory. He winced as a sharp pain worked its way into his gut and frowned as his vision became blurry.

"Looks like our times up." Harry's double stated morosely as Harry attempted to blink the fog from his eyes. "Sadly we don't get to choose this go round, we've still got work to do."

His vision cleared as he was pulled sharply from Kings Cross by a sharp jolt of electricity. Men and women surrounded him, dressed in blue scrubs, and throwing more orders and medical terms that Harry couldn't possibly understand. Harry felt air being forced into his lungs through a tube that had been stuffed down his throat. Finally as they hooked the IV into his arm and the anesthetic started flowing into his body he lost consciousness.

His first waking thought wasn't nearly as romantic or poetic as most people made it out to be. It was a flurry. Blinding panic, a feeling of vulnerability as he jolted and winced at his injury. It was of how his hand was unusually warm and sweaty. He glanced down to the slender hand laced into his own, and at the sleeping face of Tonks.

Behind her he spotted Remus reclining in a lightly padded Hospital chair. His head was tilted uncomfortably to the side. A thin hospital blanket was thrown carefully over him and his graying hair was mussed up.

"Bloody Hell." He heard himself mutter grittily. The sound of his voice shook Tonks out of her slumber. He turned his gaze on her teary eyes.

"Harry!" She breathed out, a smile adorning her pale face and she scooted as close to the edge of the bed as her large stomach would allow.

Her exclamation woke Remus. His amber eyes darted around the room for a moment, looking for a disturbance, before honing in on Harry's bedridden form. "Harry!" He got up from his seat, blanket falling to the floor around his feet.

"We thought we lost you!" She exclaimed, clasping his hand between hers and hugging it to her chest. Remus drew up behind his wife and laid his hand over Tonks'. Harry took them in, allowing his heart to swell with emotion.

It was his second cognizant thought that ended up being mildly poetic. He realized that, here in this hospital room was everything that he would miss if he left Forks Washington. "No," Harry gave her a crooked grin as he turned his gaze back to his friends, hazily remembering how he came to the hospital. 'Stay with me' "You're stuck with me."

The dead eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange stared back at him from the other side of the window. Harry sucked in a breath and hastily drew the curtains together. He exhaled shakily, rapidly blinking at the green floral patterned hospital curtains, "Slytherin's shorts." He whispered to himself, allowing himself to fall backwards onto his hospital bed and wincing as his abdomen gave a twinge. He cursed softly to himself, the Lupin's had finally gone home that morning after keeping Harry company for two days. He was alone. Taking a few calming breaths Harry elevated his hospital bed before slowly parting the curtains with his index and middle finger, peeking out past the curtain.

The dark eyes were clouded over with a grey film and dried blood was flecked across her dirty skin, and crusted in her dark hair. Harry reached under his glasses to rub at his eyes; he could feel a headache coming on. Well, not entirely alone if Bellatrix counted for anything.

"Do you like it?" A smooth voice inquired from just over his shoulder. Harry tensed and turned himself over on his bed, vision filled with crimson eyes and a pale face. The man backed away slightly and Harry took in a sharp breath. "You don't do you?"

"Ron..." Harry exhaled, his arm found its way across his healing abdomen in a defensive stance.

"You do know me." Ron wondered aloud as he stepped forward again, red hair falling into equally red eyes. "And I you." He continued speaking more to himself. "Or at least I used to."

"You're a vampire." Harry concluded eyes still wide and trained on his undead best friend.

Ron smirked at the green eyed wizard, "And you're a wizard, Harry." Ron stopped, eyes narrowing. "That's your name isn't it?"

Harry nodded slowly, slightly confused by his friends apparent memory loss. Ron moved his face inches from Harry's own, and Harry inhaled slowly as he stared evenly into a curious crimson gaze.

"You're eyes are just like the ones I remember." He murmured, his left hand coming up to brush hair away from Harry's forehead, revealing the famed lightning bolt scar. "The only thing I remember clearly." He traced the scar attempting to be gentle, yet still eliciting a wince from the shorter wizard. Ron quickly removed his thumb from the brunette's forehead, eyes glancing down at the wizard's bandaged abdomen. "So fragile."

Ron allowed his fingers to drop down and quickly snatch up Harry's arm. He traced the scar Harry had received from the Basilisk when he was twelve. Harry allowed his eyes to follow Ron's icy fingers as they ghosted easily over the faded scar. "You can't remember anything?" Harry inquired softly, eyes flickering away from his friend's fingers and back up into his face.

The man was silent for a few moments, eyes scanning the rest of Harry's visible skin for other scars, fingers darting over each one. "When a human is turned, they lose everything from their old life, their scars, all of their imperfections, even their memories." Ron explained eyes rising to meet Harry's searching gaze, right hand reaching up to grip Harry's shoulder. "Yet, for some reason, I still have a few stray memories floating about." Ron let a small smile slip onto his pale face, his left hand coming up to brush some stray hairs behind Harry's ear. "Inconsequential things. Things so small they've begun to drive me a little mad."

Harry flinched away from Ron's icy touch as his fingers brushed down his cheek and his hand came down to cup his neck. "What do you remember, exactly?" he inquired haltingly, a sense of foreboding creeping into the pit of his stomach. Harry had never felt so vulnerable as he did then, laying on the half elevated hospital bed with his vampiric best friend hovering predatorily over him.

"Just you." Ron inhaled deeply, his pupils dilating as he tangled his fingers in the small hairs at the base of Harry's neck, tilting Harry's head to the side as his lips rested against the skin between his shoulder and neck.

The Hospital room door slammed open, Harry felt himself sag in relief at the sight of Edward's lean form filling the doorframe. His lips were drawn back into an inhuman snarl, and his eyes were black. "Get away from him!" Edward hissed menacingly, Ron drew away from Harry slightly a smile playing at his lips. Harry thought he caught sight of Doctor Cullen and perhaps Alice as well from behind the enraged youth. "He's mine."

"I beg your pardon!" Harry exclaimed from over Ron's broad shoulder, relief giving way to indignation, all caution flying to the wind.

Ron chuckled lightly, not having ever taken his eyes off of Harry. "I don't think I will. He was mine before he was yours," Ron ignored the indignant noise Harry emitted and with a swift movement picked Harry up bridal style and pulled him to his chest tightly, knocking the wind out of the small human, "and I'm not about to let him go again."

The two disappeared in a snap of black smoke. Edward's enraged snarl lost to both of them.

AN: I would like to apologize for the fight scene between Harry and Bellatrix, I've always sucked at writing out fight scenes. Please review, questions and constructive criticism are, as always, welcome.