Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2538644.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter-_J.K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry/OC, OC/OC, Harry/Multi, OC/Multi
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, OC_-_Character, OMC, Hermione_Granger, Albus_Dumbledore,
      Ron_Weasly, OFC
  Additional Tags:
      Elemantal, Exotic_Drugs, Time_Manipulation, Sex_Demon, succubi, Succubus,
      Werewolves, Vampires, Vampire_Politics, Werewolf_Politics, Illusionists,
      Bisexual, Necromancy, Voice_Magics, Rape, Magic, Illuvianists, Explicit
      Language, Graphic_Sex, Graphic_Torture, Graphic_Rape, Explicit
      Necromancy, Harry_Potter_-_Freeform, Non-Canon_School, Lemons, Limes,
      Heterosexuality, Substance_Abuse, Homosexuality, Animators, fae, Fay_-
      Freeform, Fairy, faery, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Orgy,
      Supernatural_-_Genre, For_Mature_audiences_only, Incubi, incubus, NSFW,
      Sex, Smut, 18+, magical_creaures, AU, Harry_Potter_AU
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-10-30 Updated: 2015-10-12 Chapters: 5/? Words: 13397
****** Illuvianists ******
by AfanofManyStuffs
Summary
     Glamouries that Lily applied to Harry as a baby are designed to break
     the second he believes himself to be an adult. He comes to this
     realization as he is healing from a beating that Vernon bestowed on
     him. He decides to leave Britain behind forever after some startling
     revelations. But forever is never as long as we think. In his bid for
     freedom, Harry discovers many things about his person, like the fact
     that he is an Elemental, a person with the ability to manipulate
     fire, water, air, or earth. He has just one problem with that-
     Elementals are drowned at birth. That issue is replaced with several
     others as he finds that there are others with his magical ability.
     But will his newfound powers help him when he’s sharing the classroom
     with Fae, Vampires, Werewolves, Demons and the occasional Succubus?
     Work is abandoned.
  This work was inspired by
      A_Second_Chance_at_Life by Miranda Flairgold
***** A Summer to Forget *****
Chapter Notes
     Yeah, I was bitten by a REALLY vicious plot bunny. This is my first
     multi-chapter story, so please excuse short chapters. This may or may
     mot be finished, and it may be YEARS, yes, that's right, YEARS
     between updates. I am an extremely slow writer, and am deviating from
     my usual rule of writing it ALL, then posting. So we're in for a lo-
     o-ong ride. This is definitely NC-17 rated, and is for Mature, Open-
     Minded audiences ONLY. This has GUY ON GUY and GIRL ON GIRL AND GUY
     ON GIRL action. Consider yourselves warned. For more of my work, I
     have a fan fiction account on fanfiction.net under the name of A fan
     of Many Stuffs. Comments and reviews are all appreciated. Have fun,
     and don't get scarred permanately! All further A/N's will be at the
     bottom from now on.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Illuvianists
Chapter One: A Summer to Forget
 
 
Harry was downright sick of his life. He hated himself, he hated the... things
that he lived with, he hated his 'friends', he hated everyone and everything.
The only things that he didn't downright hate was, perhaps, the bright summer
Pansy's that were currently growing in Number Four's front garden bed. They
were the most lovely shade of blue, as deep as…
 
 
(No, don't say it, merely thinking it will...)
 
 
As deep as... (Grey blustering London days, bitterly cold still warm)
 
 
As... (Spring visits to a cold, damp, bitter cave blinding happiness)
 
 
…as Sirius's eyes. The bright twinkle of deep royal blue as he glimpsed a
shining happiness that nothing he saw could compare. Oh god, it hurt. The
blinding pain of sadness, despair,
nonodon'tgoawaydon'tevergoawayGETAWAYFROMMEICAN'TDOTHISGOAWAYCOMECLOSER– NO!
No, no, no, I can't, I won't do this. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Guilt. Pure,
blinding guilt, doing nothing for the pain. Fuck, the pain. Against his will,
the knife rose to his skin. Press and slide (oh god it hurt). Anything to
distract. It felt good. Reminded him that he was still alive. Again. He dug
deeper. Just like him, to find he was living, that he had stole the precious
life, life, the life that he had stolen, however indirectly, from... from…
 
 
"Sirius!" The blood, red, red blood, ran down in rivulets on the contrast of
white, white, pale skin. It fell in drops to the wooden floor of his 'bedroom'
in Little Whinging. He didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve 'life', for whatever
it was worth. His didn't mean very much, now thathiswas gone.Hiswas always
worth it.
 
 
The knife dropped, and he was being screamed at all at once by Petunia. He
seemed to be pushed out the front door, with orders to 'never come back'. She
didn't mean it, and both of them knew it. He stumbled to the park, half-blind
with pain, blood still dripping behind him, all over his clothes, smearing the
pretty red lines as he plopped down into a swing with all the grace of a drunk
elephant who was high... Say, getting high didn't sound too bad at the moment.
 
 
Absorbed as he was in his thoughts, he didn't notice the person in front of him
until they had grabbed his hurt arm. Ouch. He was about to rip into this person
until he noticed how oddly she was dressed. Three-inch platform heels, a bright
purple corset with feather trim that showed off some very well bestowed assets,
a sequined-studded petticoat with a very prominent red thong peeking through,
topped off with a sky-blue feather boa. The white blonde lavender-streaked
waist length curtain of hair only served to make the picture even stranger.
Currently, she was examining his arm, before she saw that he had blinked and
stopped staring. To his embarrassment, he noticed that his mouth was hanging
open and quickly shut it, hoping that this stranger hadn't noticed. She glanced
up at him briefly before going back to staring at his arm.
 
 
"Do you need any help?" He started. The... voice, if that could even come close
to describing that silky, smooth, husky, crème de la crème hypnotic voice that
had come out of the being before him, was… indescribable, in the way that many
voices are. The white chocolate skin of her face sparkled in the amber of the
late afternoon sunlight as she tilted her head back up to look at him, still
waiting for an answer.
 
 
"Uhh..." he uttered intelligently, still stunned. She smirked in reply, showing
off teeth that were a shade of white that would make hospital nurses cry. They
seemed to glitter in the light, too, as she spoke.
 
 
"I thought so. Hold on a sec and I'll take care of these cuts, then I'll take
you clubbing in... Oh, I'm in the mood for London tonight. I was planning on
France, but I think that would be too much for you at the moment. I just got an
invite for me and a plus-one to go to a rockin' party for tonight, star studded
with drugs of both magical AND muggle. I think someone even managed to get
their hands on some Spice. What'cha say, Yeux Vert?" {Green-eyes}. He was
brought back to reality in a snap. The situation hit him: He was sitting on a
rusty swing in a withering park with an arm that was cut by his own hand and
still bleeding heavily with a complete stranger which was dressed in an obscene
outfit who was offering to take him all the way to London to a party with
drugs. Harry knew what he would normally do, but if he did it, he thought he
would cry out of pure despair. So he did what he thought any OTHER 15-year-old
teenager with a pretty girl standing in front of them would do. He smiled
smoothly and said in his best debonair voice,
 
 
"Of course, who wouldn't be honored to accompany such a bella girl to what
sounds like the perfect stress reliever.” {Beautiful} He wanted to try drugs,
anyway. Maybe it would make him forget. She giggled in response. And then
leaned down very, very close to his arm and... licked it. The wounds sealed
after her... tongue… passed over it.
 
 
He had a feeling he was going to regret this.
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
After grabbing the girl's hand (whom he still needed a name for), he was
promptly transported to a set of old, dilapidated warehouses in the industrial
part of London by way of a curious falling sensation, accompanied by a sort of
still darkness, which was odd in and of itself, considering that they were
moving rather fast. Turning, she looked over him with a criticizing eye. She
pulled out a wand without pausing at his flinch and transfigured his baggy
Muggle clothes into a skintight emerald green long sleeved shirt and black
leather flare pants. She smirked at her handiwork and then proceeded to pull
him into the building that did not look like it belonged with the rest of the
teens and young adults that were flooding the entrance. The people were dressed
extravagantly, with corsets and short skirts and skintight clothing that showed
more than it hid. There was even a limo, for Merlin's sake! His companion also
noticed as well, and gave it a disapproving glance before pursing her lips and
shaking her head.
 
 
"My name is Voler l'Oiseau, but you can call me Clarissa. Forgive me for not
introducing myself to you. I am, as you know, a magic- user. Wand-waver if you
will. What might your name be, Yeux Vert? Unless you want me to call you that
forever. We are currently at a party for Muggles, hosted by a close friend of
mine. And please be careful with whom you bare your neck to." Quite frankly,
Harry didn't hear past her asking his name. EVERYONE knew what his name was,
knew what he looked like. It was... a novel experience for him. Someone didn’t
know his name. So he decided to covet a name for the evening. No, he wasn’t
Harry Potter, he was-
 
 
“Daniel Reosson’s the name,” he replied, smiling at her- Clarissa- and rubbing
the hand that was connected to his, her means of pulling him around.
 
 
Clarissa, for the most part, looked pleased and guided him further into the
warehouse, where music was already blasting over a PA system. At the
refreshments table, where most everything was spiked with alcohol of differing
origins (Who ever heard of vodka watermelon, or wanted apple juice mixed with
Merlot?), a gaggle of multicolored girls came and swept up Harry and Voler.
From what he could make out in between the whirl of color and getting fervently
kissed, these were Clarissa's friends. Damn, these girls liked to use their
nails, and they were sharp, too. Granted, it was hard to concentrate on doing
something as mundane as thinkingwhen being French kissed, never mind for the
first time on his life, by girls who seemed very experienced. At one point, he
was pretty sure that there were two or three on him at once. Needless to say,
there was a lot of lipstick being pressed to his face. His mind was still
spinning with flashes of pink, purple, blue, and ribbons of all colors when
they finally let him go. He was deposited, still mentally spinning (and maybe
physically, too), near the drinks, where he noticed that there had been a table
covered in yellow erected, and the drinks had little tags on them. Some tags
had stars on them next to the lines of scribble.
 
 
Now, Harry was pretty dazed by this point, and he wasn't getting any sharper.
So you can understand when he picked up a drink at random from the new table
and threw it down. Damn, it was sweet. It tasted like pure sugar, with a bitter
undertone. Yech. So he picked up another one, only to find the same thing.
Shaking his head, he staggered over (he would like to have called it walked)
over to the previous drinks, where he picked up a wine glass. He sipped at it,
and sighed at the pleasant bitter taste. At this point, other guys were being
dropped off by the whirlwind of girls, all with stunned looks on their faces.
 
 
"Damn, man, that has got to be the hottest thing I've done since the Denmark
party with the snow," one guy half-slurred. "Did they hit you with the drugs?
They must've got me a couple a' times, duuude." Harry just stared at the
American with a vacant expression. "Ah, you been hitting the drugs alread-d-dy?
Tell me, whatchya take, hmmm? You look happysh." He numbly pointed. The other
guy looked confused for a minute, and then chuckled in a stuttering way.
"Must've been hittin' harder th'n I shoughsh, maaan, cause there ain't nothin'
therrre." Hnn. Interesting. Clarissa mentioned that there was magic stuff at
the party. Must have notice-me-not charms over it. Hey, speak of the devil.
Here she comes now, free of her gaggle and giggling. Or was it gaggleing and
giggle? Hm, sounded like- like- He started staggering (walking!) toward her,
only to trip and have a nice, warm body catch him. He snuggled down into it.
 
 
"Hey, Daniel, you alright? They didn't hit you too hard, right, I told them you
were a newbie, oh, I bet Jessica hit you good she always was fond of the
needles in her nails, hey you have a drink! Here, let me kiss you I wanna know
what you had so I can see if it mixes with Spice oh my god you just HAVE to try
SPICE! It's the best drug since Demon-Faerie blood!" Harry didn't really
understand a word of that. He was pretty sure she was hyped up on something,
too. Maybe he was, as well? No, he wasn't hyped UP, more like drugged DOWN.
Well, damn, if this was the effect, he needed to get drugged more often. Quite
suddenly, the girl-Volay? Classy?- had her mouth on his. Without thinking, he
fought his way into her mouth with his tongue. It was yummy. Sweet, but
dangerous, like… like… like vanilla mixed with chocolate and topped with exotic
honey. Mmmm. Moans reached his ears, but he had no idea who it was. And then
the sensations were intensified a hundred-fold. His eyes shot open wide and he
broke away, rubbing his wrist from the sharp pinch it had received. His eyes
were blurry, so he decided to take off the irritating wire resting on his nose.
Wow. The picture was clearer than it had ever been before. His mate was now
inserting the needle of a previously unknown syringe and inserting it into her
arm with precision before pressing the plunger. Apparently the other half had
gone into him.
 
 
If possible, she started chattering even faster­.
 
 
“Hey, SWEET! They say that this is what a vampire’s senses are supposed to be
like in fact there was a study a few years ago when they switched
consciousness, that is a vamp’s and human’s and gave the human body with a
vampire consciousness Spice and among the endorphins and general unhinged-ness,
he said that it felt almost exactly like being in their vampire body. Although,
I think that that’s also how Vampyres, that is Vamp-years, were created- they
have the mental abilities of a vampire with better reflexes, but not the full-
blown strength. They’re also less sensitive to the sun, hey let’s dance! You
seemed to like kissing, so maybe we could do that again. OH, OH, I KNOW WHAT WE
COULD DO! We can get some venom aphrodisiac to get even MORE high! Oh, oh, that
sounds even better! C’mon, DANCE!”
 
 
With that, she drug him onto the dance floor, where there was a mass of
gyrating, pulsing bodies swaying to the beat of some popular Muggle music. His
senses were going out of control. He felt like he knew every single thing going
on in the room. He could feel the beat of the music, pulsing through the room.
He could hear every heartbeat in the room, delivering warmblood to their bodies
at an accelerated rate. Just being able to see without his glasses was a brand
new experience for him. His sight was better than it had ever been before.
Purple and blue lights had never looked so… complex. The sheer amount of scent
in the room was astounding. He could smell twenty different kinds of expensive
perfume from the gaggle of girls that had apparently drugged him and were still
swirling around the room. The musk of the cologne from the men, most of them
expensive. The sweat and a sickly sweet stench from the dancers and what he
thought was drugs, respectively. The bitter burn of alcohol.
 
 
Then he was being pulled from where he was standing in awe and forced to bounce
around off-beat with his crazy companion. Then, he smelled something that he
just had to have. It was a drink, sitting innocently on the refreshment table.
It smelled so good. He downed it in one gulp and his pupils immediately
dilated. He went cross-eyed for a moment from the sheer pleasure. He felt like
he was floating above everyone else. His emotions and mind were dulled even
further. He didn’t even remember what he was so upset about anymore. Celia-
Celly? He couldn’t remember- was at his side again. He stared at her face. It
was sparkling in the strobe lights. She laughed at him, and he dimly noted that
her eyes were a deep sapphire blue with a light ice-blue ring around them. No
human had eyes like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. So
pretty- no, beautiful. So beautiful.Without thinking about it, he kissed her.
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
From the moment his lips touched hers, it was ecstasy. Their mouths met, open,
and she seemed to melt into it. Her hands found their way to his hair, pulling
and tugging, while his gripped her waist. Her mouth was wet, hot, and oh god
his heightened senses were here too, her mouth tasting like mint and vanilla
and alcohol, something spicy and sweet and Clarissa. He vaguely remembered
kissing other girls, and it wasn’t anything like this. Their tongues fought for
dominance, hers winning by sheer winding and twisting over his. Pleasing,
pressuring. Bodies pressed close together, skin on skin, mouth to mouth, hands
to body. Her corset was satin, silky smooth under his touch, tongue teasing
another, and-
 
 
Nothing. She had pulled back, wanting for air. He examined her, face flushed,
lips puffy and red, feathers in disarray. Her head was cocked to one side,
still panting for air.
 
 
“Damn drugs,” she muttered, “Reduced air capacity. Dammit.” Then she smiled at
him. “Hey hot boy, how about a dance? Then maybe we can find another avenue for
the evening.” In response, he shrugged and nodded. Fiery pleasure still racing
through his veins, he took great satisfaction in grinding against anyone who
came in contact with him. He kissed a few more girls, got into a hot lap-dance
with another guy, drunk some more alcohol, and was pretty sure he got a couple
more of the sweet drinks with the drugs in them.
 
 
As the night progressed, he eventually found himself in a corner with another
guy and a girl, kissing and nipping and biting, rutting, grinding, squeezing.
After achieving gratification by a hand down his pants (Someone else’s callused
hand maybe, he wasn’t sure), he staggered back to the dance floor. Clarissa
found her way to his side sometime or another, because the next thing he was
cognitive of was being dragged to a shadow and being kissed with more of those
addicting kisses. Hands were wandering, and somehow found his half-hard
erection. Lips trailed down his chest through his shirt while nimble fingers
pulled his pants down and freed him. Suddenly, teeth found his sensitive nub of
a nipple and bit down for a second, and then released only to engulf his cock.
Dear god, he nearly came then and there, but for fingers around the base of it.
A hot, pretty little mouth bobbed up and down, swirling, kissing, sucking. His
fingers wound in and pulled platinum hair as the torture grew more intense.
Biting, nipping, scraping, prolonged nibbling. Her fingers found their way to
his nipples through the cloth and pinched them, hard. He gasped, violently. She
then rubbed them, back and forth, back and forth. The heat was unbearable, his
breath shuddering. He didn’t notice that the pressure at the base was gone. He
was leaking pre-cum, eyes dilated to extreme proportions. That hot little mouth
was bobbing faster, faster, faster fasterfasterfaster and oh
god,hewascomingagain. A scream of pleasure was wrangled from his mouth as his
cock pulsed once, twice, three times as it was deep-throated and sucked some
more- wrung for every drop. He leaned against the wall for support, hardly
noticing as his dick came free with a wet pop. He vaguely recognized being
kissed by that sinful mouth once more as she headed back on the dance floor.
 
 
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
He didn’t see his companion for the rest of the night after that, as far as he
was aware (and awareness was something that he was lacking at the moment). The
rest of the night was a hazy blur of more drugs, alcohol, kissing, and fooling
around. At some point in the night, he was partially aware that the drug table
had disappeared from his sight, but was too damn high to care. He just kept on
drinking, drugging, dancing, and orgasming. The night continued on, regardless.
He met the floor sometime during a rare slow song, and stayed there as
acromantulas and thestrals mixed with Hippogriffs came crawling out of the
walls and windows and attacked the few dancers left, as they danced on,
oblivious to the spectacle going on. He laughed his ass off during the entire
time before succumbing to sweet unconsciousness.
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
No one noticed a passed-out lump against the wall. And if they did, well, Just
another one, after all.
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
Chapter End Notes
     I hope you liked it. Was it long enough? Next chapter, things aren't
     quite as carefree. Stay tuned!
***** Truth Untold *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Illuvianists- Truth Untold
 
Chapter 2
 
 
“Daniel… Damien? Roessow? Helloooo, can you heaaar me? It’s mooorniiinnnng,
mooorooon. Wakey Wakey, Mr. Mister” Harry came around to a bright light pinning
his eye balls with swords and a rude voice sing-songing in his ear. He groaned
slowly as he rolled over and attempted to open his eyes.
 
 
“Oh, good, you’re up. It’s, like, 10 AM and I’m sure you have some person
looking for you by now. C’mon, Danny or whatever your name is, I gotta get you
home. It’d be rude to leave you here in London with no means to get home. Up,
mister.” He didn’t bother to correct the person as he got his pupils blasted,
before giving in, closing his eyes, and sitting up.
 
 
“Whrglmih?” he muttered. The silky voice who had been prodding him from sleep
asked for clarification. “Where am I?” he repeated. He began the process of
getting his eyes back to working normally. Open, ouch!, close, repeat.
Meanwhile, the voice (Whom he was getting glimpses of, and was very pretty) was
snorting at him.
 
 
“What, do you not remember last night at all? I know you don’t do this often,
but I feel like a loser now for taking a person to a rage who can’t even
remember that he went. Gosh. You’re in London, Dopey. Hmph.” London? How in
Merlin’s name did he get to London? What had happened last night?
 
 
It came back to him in flashes. A whirls of colors, giggling. A sickly sweet
drink. Heightened senses. Dancing. A blowjob. Multiple times. By different
freaking genders.
 
 
“Oh shit.” The girl- Clarissa? -snorted.
 
 
“I knew it’d come back to you sooner or later, dumbass. Finally. You live in
Privet Drive, Surrey, too, in case you didn’t know. Gosh.” Harry’s head
positively hurt by now, eyes and ears aching. He felt sluggish, like he had a
few too many hours of sleep, or had been given a double dose of Dreamless
Sleep. He ignored the fact that he didn’t remember dreaming, and had had a good
sleep without nightmares.
 
 
“Well, come on, then. I have an urgent matter to attend to. Like, life-or-death
urgent.”
With that, she gripped his arm, and a peculiar portal of lit darkness appeared
in front of her. She dragged him in, and a vaguely familiar sensation enveloped
him- falling while still. Debilitated as he was, he couldn’t make heads or
tails of it before they were spat out at the park where this mess started from.
Or rather, where he voluntarily agreed to let this happen to him. The light
hurt his eyes.
 
 
A quick “Bye!” was all he got before that odd, odd portal-thingie made its
appearance again and swept his companion off. He was already regretting last
night.
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
Still blinking furiously, he took stock of the situation. He had just been
deposited in Little Whinging’s park by an aforementioned oddly dressed girl
whose name was either Clarissa or Volet or neither, aching and drowsy from a
night of drugs and drinking and oh-my-god almost having sex. He was now
expected to go back to the Dursely’s and… what? Pretend that last night hadn’t
happened? He thought carefully on the idea for a while before deciding it
acceptable. Perhaps, if he was lucky, she would come back for him. That would
be fun, despite his regrets this time. He just wouldn’t take so many drugs this
time. Stick to the alcohol. A hangover must be better that what he had now,
right?
 
 
Now, you must understand that at this particular moment in time, Harry had
something akin to a light hangover (Not that he had any idea what a hangover
actually was, mind you), combined with the after-effects of the numerous drugs
that he had imbibed upon at The Party, amounting to a monster headache, slowed
reflexes, and a general numbing of the body and mind. So by the time our poor,
poor human had stumbled and tripped his way to the house, it was quite near
eleven O’clock on a Saturday morning.
 
 
His relatives were Not Happy.
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
Harry practically fell into the front foyer of the Dursely’s house. He wasn’t
all that silent about it, either. Luckily, the TV in the living room had its
volume turned up so high, it was a wonder that the neighbors didn’t barge in,
complaining. His head was really fuzzy, and he slammed into a door rather
painfully. The noise wasn’t helping him. Blithely reaching for the handle, he
was pathetically spat out across the floor, doing a spectacular face plant
right into the hardwood floors, not only breaking his nose with a sickening
crunch, but also sliding, rather incidentally, right between the family of
three sitting on the couch and the television which was blasting his over-
sensitive eardrums painfully. He could feel the six eyes on him for a few scant
moments before Uncle Vernon started yelling quite clearly right over the TV
set, a rather impressive feat in Harry’s eyes.
 
 
“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS, BOY? BEEN GONE ALL NIGHT! ABSOLUTELY NO CONCERN
WHATSOEVER FOR US! THOSE BLOODY FREAKS OF YOURS DAREDTO COME INTO THE HOUSE AT
AN UNGODLY HOUR AND DEPRIVE ALL OF US OF SOMEMUCHNEEDED SLEEP! HOW DARE YOU!”
Harry violently flinched, unintentionally slamming his head into the stand and
knocking the telly over. The extremely large, flat screen, very expensive, top
of the line new telly over. On him.
 
 
Glass shattered, both that of the television screen and of the coffee table.
Plastic broke into hundreds of shards, glass splintering into thousands. An
alarming zap was heard as the device was violently pulled from its plug
unwillingly. There were screams, shouts, fire smoking, bellowing, yelling, and
quite possibly sirens in the cacophony of noise. The last thing Harry caught
sight of before he descended into unconsciousness was the look of Vernon’s fat
face – a shade of red that made traffic lights look dull.
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
He woke up in his room. The window had been boarded over with plywood, throwing
the room into darkness, but the lamp had been left on, allowing him to see. His
belongings had been somewhat rearranged. Hedwig’s cage was conspicuously
missing from its usual perch of the desk. The desk itself had been cleared of
all parchment, quills, and ink wells. His trunk, he noted, had been moved into
his room, sitting neatly next to the desk, upright. He was gagged with a wad of
cloth in his mouth, and upon testing them, he found that both his arms and legs
had been bound with rough twine at the wrists and ankles, digging into his skin
irritatingly. The bed had been stripped of the sheets, and replaced with
plastic, which he was currently placed upon.
 
 
All of this was extremely alarming, but what set off both the alarm bells AND
the red sirens was that he was unharmed, except for perhaps the odd bruise that
he had created unwittingly for himself by crashing into things. His nose was
still broken, and there were a few glass shards sticking into him in places,
but there were no more added injuries to his person. Even the over sensitivity
and headache he had suffered from before was gone. He had expected at least a
black eye inflicted by the human whale, or maybe a stabbing sensation caused by
one of the human horse’s spike heels. He didn’t get the chance to dwell on this
unexpected circumstance before he heard the many locks on his door clicking
open.
 
 
He had only moments to gather himself before Vernon stomped into the room, face
still as red as a stoplight. He swore that the human whale growled at him
before bringing a baseball bat up and threw it down over his legs. They didn’t
snap, but instead bruised horribly, eliciting a groan of pain from him. The fat
thing that was standing over him brought the bat down on him twice more before
one of his legs broke with a sickening snap. He then made the mistake of giving
a muffled yell, apparently mistook for attempted speech.
 
 
“Do not even speak to me, freak. You, who has been nothing but a doddering
freak, a heavy burden to MY perfectly normal family! We took you in, clothed
you, fed you, and what do we get in return? NOTHING! Nothing but you ruining
our possessions! Do you know what those freaks did while you were gone? THEY
DEMANDED TO COME IN AT THREE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING AND SCREAM AT US!US!For not
knowing where you were. And when they dared to threaten us, US, I called the
police on them forbreaking and entering. And DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DID, FREAK?
THEY DID FREAK THINGS TO THEM! Made them act all loopy and sent them away! WE
COULDN’T GET THEM OUT OF THE HOUSE UNTIL SIX AM! SIX AM! And now you come back
here, drunk, like your no good parents and your even WORSE godfather!”
 
 
Vernon had jumped on him at the beginning of his little speech and started
pummeling him. Hard. Fists broke his nose further, his jawline cracked, ribs
were bruised, legs kicked and jumped, with the plastic providing a crinkling
soundtrack through it all. His breath came in short, shallow gasps as he
struggled to get enough air to function past the quivering mass of fat on top
of him. Vernon was still monologuing.
 
 
“And that’s when I decided, that since all of this fuss was because of YOU,
boy, it was YOU who ought to pay for it.”
 
 
While those ominous words were still ringing in the air, the pummeling stopped
and Vernon rolled off of the bed and pulled him into a sitting position against
the wall. The twine was digging into his skin, burning every time he moved even
just a little bit. He watched his uncle go towards the closet and open the
door, revealing his precious Hedwig with blood running down her white feathers.
 
 
“You are a nothing, freak. You aren’t good for anything, thing. You aren’t a
boy. You’re a freak, an abomination. A thing. You have been neglecting your
duties, and have made Pet cook and clean when she shouldn’t have to! Ungrateful
thing.”
 
 
Harry was shocked. His uncle had clearly gone off the deep end, going bipolar
like this! And he… he was the madman’s mercy… shit. Dumbledore, any day now!He
did his best to ignore any thoughts about Hedwig.
 
 
He turned next to his trunk, the bat in his hand.
 
 
“I attempted to burn this freakishness, but the freak things have made it
impossible. So I’ll destroy it.”
 
 
Vernon first moved it into the center of the room, proceeded to spat at it, and
then opened it. The first thing that was on top of it was his wand.
 
 
“Since I refuse to let you go back to your freak school, you’ll have no need
for this flimsy piece of wood, eh?”
 
 
With that, he snapped it in two, phoenix feather broken at the middle. Harry
cried out, feeling something snap inside, too. Vernon growled at him to shut
up, before shredding anything and everything inside the trunk in front of his
eyes. When the trunk was empty, he smashed that, too, laughing all the way
through it. His album, torn and scattered across the floor. His invisibility
cloak, scissored into pieces. His wand, snapped into so many pieces that they
were splinters, feather befallen the same fate. His robes and clothing were
burnt to ashes, books torn to snowflakes. What remained of Sirius’ mirror was
thrown across him, causing further injury. The transfigured clothes on him were
ripped off and burned as well. Ink-wells and quills stained and scattered
across the floor. Potions ingredients thrown in the closet and the cauldron
followed them, causing an explosion from combined ingredients. The body of his
owl was surely beyond decency now. Acrid smoke permeated the air, a grey sheet
of potentially deadly gas. But Vernon seemed to breathe it in without harm, so
Harry ignored it. With every snip, every tear, every click of the lighter in
his uncle’s hands, something within him broke, too. Several somethings.
 
 
Vernon the Human Whale stood there, surrounded in his own creation of
destruction, grinning and cackling, delighted by his own actions and the sorrow
and shock clearly displayed upon his nephew’s face. That creepy, creepy grin
still adorned his face as he crept closer to the bed and pushed Harry down and
rolled him over.
 
 
“And now, freak, I will show you what you will be doing for the next two years
to pay for what we have done for you-and what you have done to us.”
 
 
With that, he pushed down his underwear, his last remaining article of
clothing, and heard the metallic sliding of a belt being undone. The pig only
grunted from that moment on as he pushed past skin and muscle. Harry panicked.
He tensed up as his uncle’s enlarged family jewels pushed past his last
reserves and started to scream. Surely someone would hear him. His guard, for
one.
 
 
He writhed and wriggled, trying to get out from under the pig’s massive weight.
The only thing that his frenzied screaming managed to attract was Dudley,
looking at the scene from the open door. He was dressed in his pajamas and
stroking himself to arousal. He closed his eyes and screamed and struggled
harder. Must get away. Must be free. Get me away! Get me away! Get me AWAY!!!He
hoped his magic would do something, anything, but nothing happened. The pig
sucked in a breath, panting. Spreading his disgusting sweat all over him.
Animal. Uncivilized, bloody animal. Yuck. The pig thrusted once, twice, thrice
more and something heavy was put where it should not be allowed to go.
 
 
He screamed louder yet, literally feeling his vocal chords as they vibrated to
new heights. Pig seemed to have recovered enough to pull out –thank god- and
give him a fist to the head.
 
 
“Shuddup, freak. It’s not like this is new. Freak.”
 
 
Harry fell silent and froze, the pig’swords taking all of a second to
assimilate.
 
 
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
Looking back, the real breaking point was when the pig had muttered about
betting that his ‘No good, sucking, good-for-nothing freak of a criminal and
drunkard, whom should have been hung godfather’ had done this to him, too.
Hindsight may provide 20/20 vision, but only if your eyes were open. Anything
past that was sensations, beginning with an audible snap, like a bone breaking,
and an uprising of magic.
 
 
Swirling. Burning. Broken. Angry.
 
 
Bold. Free. New.Vengeance.
 
 
Green. Red. Orange. Dark.
 
 
I will be renewed. And nothing shall hold me back.
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
When he woke up, the house had been burned to a crisp, along with what few
belongings that might have been salvageable. There were three skeletons in the
ashes, one a pile of thin bones, one skeleton found gripping his pelvis, along
with one very broken up skeleton. Harry suspected that it had been quite
tortured by the time the owner of the bones had died.
 
 
The Order had taken him away to Headquarters, still in Number 12, London. The
reminder of his godfather wasn’t appreciated at all, although he didn’t show
it. He just curled up on the bed and wept. Wept for the new memories flooding
through his mind, the loss of something he never knew he had, never knew he
lost. For the loss of his ignorance, his bliss of being dreadfully uninformed.
 
 
He wept for the loss of his very identity, even as he lost consciousness.
 
 
And heaven help any who tries to hold me back, for I will have no mercy.
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
Chapter End Notes
     Virtual figgy pudding to anyone who gets the Not Happy comment. This
     chapter was a tad difficult. I hope I did it justice. A few words
     shorter than the last one, but I felt that it was a good place to
     break.
     Any thoughts on Hermione? How reasonable do you think she may be to
     Harry's plight? Shall she join him on his escape from England?
     I think I'll start a playlist for this story. It will most likely be
     very eclectic, and if I use such obscure songs that you can't find it
     on you tube, then I'll use that obscure a song. As for this chapter's
     song, I believe it will be Forsaken by Within Temptation. Full
     playlist will soon be on my fan fiction account.
     The more exciting parts are going to be beginning soon.
     As for now; a toast to the grandest of all plotbunnies- Every story
     ever written! (Including mine!)
***** Rememberance of Things to Come *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
He dreamt that night, after being rescued from the still-smoldering remains of
that house.
 
 
Five years old, locked in his cupboard for two days so far, for doing
‘freakishness’. His name was Boy. It was better than being beaten. The dark was
comforting, better than the light. Light was harsh, and brought with it bad
things.
 
 
-
 
 
Six years old, brought to the guestroom for some reason after burning Dudley by
accident. His uncle brought in a man dressed in a three-piece-suit, looking
inordinately happy. He was confused when his uncle told him to strip. The other
man had a strange expression on his face. Uncle Vernon walked out of the room,
whistling. The other man pinned him to the bed immediately.
 
 
It was a bad night.
 
 
-
 
 
Seven years old. His name was Harry Potter only at school. He was called
Lovely, Freak, or Boy mostly. When the strange men came, he learned to stay
still and groan. Maybe then, his hair wasn’t pulled or his arms bruised. He
noticed that after each man, his uncle went out and bought something
extravagant. Tailored suits, precious jewelry for his Aunt, a video game
console with a new telly for Dudley.
 
 
Maybe one day he would get some new clothes, or at least something that fit
him.
 
 
-
 
 
Nine years old. The men were coming less, now. He was shipped off to a summer
camp that year. He was taught to do horrible things to bodies, or be beaten.
 
 
He came home at the end of summer to a state of the art kitchen and a remodeled
house with no bruises at all.
 
 
-
 
 
Eleven years old. He was weeding the garden when a strange man came up to the
fence and pointed a stick at him. He was confused. Was this a Punishment? But
they usually came at night, and didn’t wear dresses.
 
 
“Harry, my boy, I had no idea this would happen,” he said sorrowfully, “I’m
afraid this is the best I can do for you. Obliviate.”
 
 
He woke up when it started to rain lightly and it was growing dark, devoid of
all energy. His Hogwarts letter came two days later.
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
Harry woke up, panting heavily. He knew it wasn’t just a dream. No, it was…
dare he think it?... memories.
 
 
Just like he knew that he had killed the Durselys, burnt the house down, and
snapped the wards.
 
 
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
 
When he woke up later that morning, it was to Hermione and Ron sitting at his
bedside, talking. He was about to open his eyes, but then the content of their
conversation caught his attention
 
 
“I can’t believe this, Ronald, do you know what the results of the diagnosis
was? It was astounding! His uncle had obviously done a number on him, what from
the broken glass lodged sub-cutaneously, the broken nose, leg, and multiple
ribs, along with the severe rope burns on his wrists and ankles, but do you
know what elseit found, Ron? Do you? Because it said that there was residual
alcohol and muggle drugs in his system. Now, that alone is alarming, at best,
but… but they didn’t just find that. And I have to know, from you…”
 
 
What in the world was Hermione on about now? He could practically hear the
gears and cogs in her brain whirring. The symptom this time seemed to be verbal
diarrhea, not letting anyone get a word in edgewise.
 
 
“… Ronald Weasley, did you give Harry any magical drugs last term?”
 
 
It was spoken with a finality about it, like she had already made up her mind
and was merely looking for a confession. This didn’t bode well for anyone.
 
 
“WHAT? Hermione! You know that I would NEVER do that!”
 
 
“I’m sorry, Ron, but the results showed that Harry had massive amounts of all
sorts of drugs in his system. The only person that I can think of that would
give him anything like that was you. Unless you know anyone that had?”
 
 
Hermione was on a roll now, and didn’t let Ron take a breath before continuing
on her tangent.
 
 
“Muggle drugs alone can have extreme ill effects, and are addicting if taken
for too long, but their magical equivalents are even worse. For example, the
Muggle drug heroin is completely addictive within three to five doses, but the
magical drug seramethicon addicts the user in two doses alone. The most harmful
and addictive magical drugs create dependency by a mixed effect of magical,
physical, and psychic relaxation by traveling through the magical pathways,
speeding up blood pressure, relaxing muscles, and calming the mind and muting
emotions. Granted, you probably don’t care of the schematics of it, but it
matters to me, and most specifically Harry, because he took at least five
different magical drugs, some had multiple doses, even, and this could spell
disaster for him, especially if you didn’t tell him how to be careful, Ron.”
 
 
“But, Hermione, I didn’t give him anything. Dumbledore told me not to. Said it
would interfere with his training. Didn’t he say anything like that to you?”
 
 
“Of coursehe said not to give Harry anything. That’s why I’m shocked that you
would give him something, especially something like this. It’s possible, with
the effects of the drugs, it… well, it could have opened up his magical
pathways, and a wizard’s channels are never bigger than the magic has the
capacity to fill. It’s possible that it could have broken the bindings on his
magic.”
 
 
Harry was vaguely aware that Ron answered, but didn’t hear his reply. He was
too busy seething. He was glad that they weren’t paying too much attention to
him, because he was sure that the tensing of his muscles as he tried to keep
still was visible. But it was what he heard from Hermione next that boiled his
blood.
 
 
“…Not to mention, except for the possibility of it messing with the Obliviation
and whatever they do to him when he goes to the Professor’s Club, it couldn’t
have interfered with the Master bindings. Those would have to be removed by the
caster himself, in this case, Headmaster Dumbledore. It would be impossible to
undo those without the express permission of the caster, and an extremely Dark
ritual involving a massive amount of blood and Merlin knows what else. It also
would be highly improbable…”
 
 
Harry had heard enough. But he had to be careful with this knowledge. It was
obvious- he had a new enemy. Just what he needed.
 
 
{~°<^>°~}
 
 
A groan. Movement. Ceased talking. More movement. Shuffling feet. Something
crashing.
 
 
Green eyes blinked open to find blue and brown staring at them in equal
anxiety. Brown flicked over to blue for a moment in worry before latching back
on to green. Blue eyes exchanged a look with brown three seconds too late after
blinking twice at green eyes. Green switched between traitorous blue and
defecting brown.
 
 
Questioning words. Questioning answers. Standing upright. Hidden fury. Angry
questions. Ridiculous answers. Shocked responses. Yelling.
 
 
Amber eyes flash yellow. Ice blue eyes turn in consternation. Onyx are annoyed
and take their leave. Green eyes dance in anger, unspilled grief shining,
magnifying. Blue show indignation. Brown see knowingly. Green eyes flash and
whirl round the room, meeting metallic grey; unseeing. Green close and turn,
filled with pain. Ice blue beseech, but the recipients don’t see.
 
 
Green eyes turn and walk out.
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
After stalking out of Grimmauld Place in a fit of rage after not accepting the
answer to as why he was there, two months after losing his godfather, he ran
around Muggle London to cool off; running the pain away.
 
 
It was funny to think that he had been here just last night. Or was it two
nights ago? He didn’t keep time too well during summer. It was easy to let two
or three days slip by without him noticing, lost in an ocean as it were.
 
 
He eventually came to a park where he decided to walk around for some time. He
was walking over a bridge when he saw a quasi-familiar head leaning over the
railing, feeding some ducks. Casually, he walked beside her and asked,
 
 
“Do you know the time and date, perchance? I’m afraid I’m terribly late for a
meeting.”
 
 
Lavender streaked waist length hair whirled about and the short frame of
Clarissa looked at him in distaste. She had changed out of her party wear and
had on a loose t-shirt with yoga pants on.
 
 
“You again. Gods save me. If you’re late, then what are you doing talking to
me, Yeux Vert? Just cast a Tempus. Or are you not a wizard? Hmph.”
 
 
Harry blinked twice in quick succession, taking in the statement… Oh. He hadn’t
told her his age. Oops?
 
 
“Em… I’m only sixteen. I do suppose that I didn’t tell you. And I’m not
actually late for a meeting. I’m currently on the run a bit, really.”
 
 
She rolled her eyes and cocked an eyebrow at him before turning back to the
ducks.
 
 
“That’s curious, I could have sworn I saw his description in the registry,” she
muttered under her breath. Louder, she replied, “On the run a bit? Would you
care to tell me the story, Yeux Vert? Hmmm?”
 
 
Daringly, courageously (and maybe just a little bit sarcastically, if he was
honest with himself), Harry replied, “Well, that’s a bit of a tall tale, but if
you know someplace that I can stay for a few nights, off of the main highways,
I may be inclined to tell you, if you have time. Money is no object for me.”
 
 
To his utmost surprise, she laughed. A high, tinkling sound.
 
 
“Oh, Yeux Vert,you amuse me so. Just for that, I will spend the night with you,
so that I may hear your tale of tallness.” She chuckled some more, making him
feel like a child. But he still got what he wanted.
 
 
Right?
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
She had brought him to America. New York City, she said. He didn’t much care,
anyway or another. They had checked into a Muggle hotel with gold filigree on
the counters and received two plastic cards and told that room 825 was theirs
for however long they wanted.
 
 
He didn’t pay much attention to the room, although it was twice the size of
the- things- living room and kitchen combined. His escort didn’t give it a
second look either, giving the impression that she was quite used to
surroundings similar to these. They sat on opposing loveseats and looked at
each other. Clarissa drew a wand and waved it silently in a mesmerizingly
complex pattern, sometimes deviating from the set pace and series of loops,
flicks, and waves that seemed nonsensical to him at the moment. He noticed that
her exotic eyes weren’t looking upon her movements; instead focused, half-
lidded, on the setting sun behind him. He turned to look at the orange globe
spreading a hazy golden color on the cityscape of skyscrapers before him,
streaking the skies with slivers of pink and purple, threading, twining through
and beyond it in irregular patterns, all dispersed by the haze of smog hovering
above a sky that was slowly turning to a deep indigo, spreading across the
expanse of space slowly, almost imperceptibly, from east to west.
 
 
He shook himself out of his reverie. He had some explaining to do, and wasn’t
going to be waxing poetic about it, either.
 
 
{~°<^>~°}

“So tell me, Yeux Vert,how are you a little bit on the run? To me, you either
are or are not. Granted, I shouldn’t squabble over your wording when I ought to
be squabbling over you to tell me whom you are on the run from.”
 
 
Harry raised an eyebrow. She talked with a French accent, but was obviously a
native user of English. Her vocabulary was too expanded for it not to be, at
her apparent age. He wondered a moment how he should start. The truth, or
something less? He had a new persona to build, if what his magic was telling
him came to fruition.
 
 
He began to spin a tale from words that spilled out from his tongue and teeth
as if it had been waiting for him to say it since his birth. And so he took the
leap, the leap to freedom, to overwhelming potential, the leap to be whatever
he wanted for the first time in his life.
 
 
“From the beginning? From the very beginning of the top of this mess? Yes? Get
comfortable, then, because it’s a very long road…”
 
 
He shifted in his seat slightly before continuing.
 
 
“I was born in a small country in Eur-”
 
 
He was cut off by a sharp pain in his neck, and all went dark…
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
He woke to an echoing voice.
 
 
“Oui, je serai là dans quelques heures... Non, bien sûr -... Pourquoi! Si
jamais tu dis quelque chose à quelqu'un, et je te promets que je le saurais car
rien n'échappe aux vides ténèbres, je te traquerai comme l'animal que tu es, et
je te traînerai jusqu'au huitième cercle d'Emos!... Et bien oui, je sais ça ...
Non, tu- JE T'AI DIS QUE TU NE PEUX PAS ME DEMANDER, J'AI ÉTÉ JURÉ AU SECRET!
Non pas que je m'attendais à ce que tu t'en préoccupes vraiment.La Vita, Kanoë.
Yes, you too. No!”
 
 
He heard a sharp click, and then the sound of her high heels clacking across
the floor came nearer to him. What mess had he gotten himself into now? He
hoped that the Order would rescue him, particularly Dumbledore…
 
 
“I know you’re awake, Yeux Vert. It was quite obvious. Your breathing pattern
changed dramatically. Fartoo noticeable to anyone who bothers to look closely.
But for not opening your eyes, even at this junction where I have already
pointed out you’re awake I give you five points. Because for all you know, I
may just be practicing my evil speech on my captive. I will also detract five
for going to an unknown place with an unknown person and letting your guard
down. Five more for being daring enough to get my attention, but not being too
reckless and therefore arousing my suspicion. But I must take five away, once
again, for your overly dramatic monologue that was about to start. But for
thinking of an obviously complex lie in the very short time you had, I must
commend you five more points. This brings us to a total of five, and also the
conclusion that you have not heard of The Registry before. So the score is
acceptable, ‘Aryy Potter. Most especially that most trainees that don’t know
about it tend to have a negative number.”
 
 
Harry was extremely confused. If confusion was explosive, then he would have
been a nuclear bomb. It must have shown on his face, for Clarissa started
talking again.
 
 
“I may have to detract five points for cluelessness, Yeux Vert.The Academy sent
me so that you could go through you qualification process. As it is, you have
been accepted. The Registry, I cannot explain to you now. This is an unsecured
location. Any other questions? Well, no matter if you do. I have an explanation
to recite.”
 
 
Academy… he had obviously been entered into another magical school, but there
must have been a mistake. He went to Hogwarts, after all. He went to say as
such, but she cut him off before he could.
 
 
“Now, as your… eh, what do the Muggles call them? Ah, an orienteer. As your
orienteer, I have to prepare you for The Academy. These preparations are
including but not limited to death, execution, torture, getting your eyeballs
removed by needles and/or forks, or any other possible remotely pointy object,
getting ripped limb by limb and then having them magically reattached while
under the effects of an Ever-Awake potion combined with sexual simulation
before getting ripped into pieces once again, being Imperioused into singing a
razor blade under your tongue…. Oops. Wrong speech,” she said when she deigned
him with a glance at his increasingly pale face.
 
 
“Wh-what speech was that f-f-for?” he forced himself to ask, through (to his
everlasting shame) his stuttering. He was met with a scary grin from his
captor.
 
 
“Why, Yeux Vert, that was the warning list for attending our dear school. Those
were some of the risks that you face while being taught how to defend yourself
from most of those very threats along with various advanced magiks, crafting
skills, and, of course, your Elemental abilities.”
 
 
Before Harry could string together the words in his mind to say that he wasn’t
going to this school, and decipher what the hell she was nattering on about,
elemental abilities?, she continued on.
 
 
“The preparations required to whip you into shape are too numerous to say at
this time, but I shall endeavor to give you an abridged version. First of all,
you need to get into physical shape. If you cannot at least run from threats,
sometimes for prolonged periods of time, you would be toast by the end of the
first week, depending on how long you can keep you head down for. Priority two
is to open up your magical channels a bit and start getting you weaned off of
your wand. Thrice, your Elemental abilities seem to have a lock on them,
otherwise you’d have been out of that cage in an instant. Even if your magical
reserves are completely drained, if the Elemental core is still untouched, then
you could just blast your way through whatever shit pile you’ve gotten your ass
stuck in. Another thing that must be done…”
 
 
Her voice continued on for a while, but Harry really didn’t hear too much of
it. His head was still reeling. Academy? This was preposterous. Hogwarts was
the best school for Witchcraft and Wizardry. He wasn’t going to suddenly
transfer away from his friends, anyway… The events in Grimmauld Place came to
his mind once again. Well, maybe his friends weren’t that high in his good
graces at the moment, but it would blow over. Eventually. It had to, right?
Aside from that, how would he defeat Voldemort if he was away from Hogwarts?
And what about Dumbledore? The man had done nothing but what he saw right at
the time. He didn’t wantto leave Hogwarts, or anything that was there. Or
anyone, for that matter. Except for the possible exception of the whole of
Slytherin House…
 
 
Away in a very small corner of Harry’s brain, puzzle pieces clicked together
and started forming a picture. Harry didn’t realize it right at that moment,
but things were starting to make sense. Meanwhile, the vast majority of his
mind was preoccupied with something else that this wild girl had told him.
 
 
He was an Elemental. Harry didn’t really know what that phrase meant, but since
she said it had been locked away, he guessed that either she was lying or
something very, very large had been hidden from him. At this thought, his magic
seemed to burn in his veins, as this thought enraged him. It was things being
kept from him that had caused a great deal of suffering to come to him. He
would stand it no more. It only then occurred to him that perhaps he should
listen to what was being said so that he wouldn’t miss being informed of
something important.
 
 
“… And that is only the beginning. To tell you any more about this, we would
have to go to the school itself, and it’s really not worth the effort to go
over the border towing another person twice in the same day. Shall we, Yeux
Vert?”
 
 
“What?”
 
 
A long, low, loud groan was heard throughout the chamber and could be heard
echoing for many minutes afterward.
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
After Clarissa had let him out of the cage, claiming that she would give her
speeches later after he got his finances worked out (He needed to transfer the
tuition, even though he had no intentions of doing that), she transferred them
to a muggle alleyway near Dragon alley via that odd thingy that she called
‘Death’s Doors’. He wasn’t sure that she wasn’t pulling his leg, though,
considering the smirk on her face as she answered his question.
 
 
When she immediately went to pull him into the tavern, though, he held back. He
wasn’t stupid, after all.
 
 
“Are you insane? If we go in there with me like this, everyone will know who I
am and want to shake my hand or something. Shouldn’t you at least glamour me
first?”
 
 
She gave him a strange look, like his head was screwed on wrong or something.
 
 
“You DO know that the glamour you had up for the party and the Muggles is gone
now, right? Really, I have to commend you for excellent spell casting. The
glamour you had on encompassed you really very thoroughly. But it has worn off
now, or have you not looked in the mirror lately? You really are very handsome,
I don’t know why you didn’t remove your glamours at the party, even if I do
understand about not wanting to show your ears without knowing who, exactly,
was at the party. In fact, it was probably better that you did not, considering
the number of muggles at that warehouse.”
 
 
He must have given another clueless look, because she raised an eyebrow and
conjured a full length mirror. Harry was so shocked by his reflection that the
past 24 or 48 hours caught up with him immediately. He fell into a dead faint.
His last thought was echoed by Clarissa’s voice, chasing him into
unconsciousness.
 
 
“Why does this always happen to me?”
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
Chapter End Notes
     A/N First of all, I would like to profoundly thank PrettyPheonix
     (Known as Lolotte30622F.Off on fanfiction .net) for translating the
     paragraph in French for me. She was also the one to point out that
     Vert-les-Yeux, or green eyes, should be Yeux Vert. Hopefully, she
     will continue to work with me, because I don’t know a scrap of
     French, and I downright HATE using online translators, such as Google
     Translate. All credit for translating goes to PrettyPheonix, although
     the words themselves that were translated belong to me. In case that
     was clear to anyone at all.
     Also, ‘Death’s Doors’ is not my invention, but I have tweaked it a
     bit. It appears in ‘Stand against the Moon’ by Batasoui. It is also
     used without the explicit permission of the author, because she had
     one helluva temper. You, as a reader, are welcome to report this to
     her. So- I DISCLAIM!
     Told you updates were infrequent. Anyway, I got a new keyboard, so
     maybe I’ll have some more inspiration to go along with it? A reviewer
     was concerned with the velocity and escalation of this story- Let me
     clear this up immediately. This is SUPPOSED to be one hell of a kick-
     ass story that has nothing resembling real life. That means back to
     back orgasms, emergencies, parties, classes, you name it, it’s there.
     So if you’re looking for some slow paced story with all the adventure
     and action cut out of it and dealing purely with emotions and shit
     like that, then this AIN’T for you. Thank you.
     On another note, I posted another fic here called Songs for Spock.
     The tags are sorely lacking on it, but whatever. Plenty of emotions
     there, really. It’s stupid and immature of me to advertise like this,
     but if knowledge is power, then to be anonymous it to be
     unconquerable, right? So I suppose I’m giving you all the power to
     conquer me.
     Flames are encouraged, and my mind is nothing but an innuendo.
     One last note: I would like a beta reader with a high tolerance for
     weird. I need someone to make sure that the characters are acting
     like how I want them to act, whilst not giving too much away. This
     would include me bouncing ideas off of them, since the plot for this
     is largely undeveloped, and access to my [largely disjointed] notes.
     Also, I have an extremely limited Internet connection, so
     communication will be infrequent. I’m more active on Fanfiction .net,
     and that is my preferred modus of operandi, since I still haven’t
     really got the hang of this site. So yeah. If you are interested, or
     know someone who would be, then drop me a line, kay? Thanks for
     reading this ridiculously l-o-n-g AN, if you made it this far.
     Congratulations!
***** Find Yourself *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Chapter 4 – Find Yourself
 
 
Harry slowly trudged his way into the waking world. His first impression was of
hard, uneven stone. Had he been ­kidnapped by Death Eaters, and was now in one
of the dungeons? A splash of cold water flew in the face of that when a lightly
accented voice invaded his ears.
 
 
“What is it with you passing out? If your magic wasn’t so bound up, and ergo is
probably making your emotional state unstable, I would disqualify you for
Assinists on that alone. Now, get up and stare at your own reflection until you
STOP passing the fuck out!” Oh yeah. He now remembered the moments prior to
passing out- how horrifying. And Clarissa had said something about his ears? He
opened his eyes as he heard a breath being taken in, most likely preparing to
nag on him some more.
 
 
“I’m up, I’m up. Stop nagging me. You’re starting to sound like Hermione.” Her
left eyebrow went up, and he mentally reviewed his statement. Oh. He was going
to have to explain to this almost-stranger who Hermione was. Ron would have got
it, or really anyone from Hogwarts. See, thiswas why he didn’t want to switch
schools. He was about to express the sentiment to the very bored Clarissa, who
was currently filing her nails, when he caught sight of his reflection.
Standing up, he walked over to the gilded mirror propped up against the alley
wall and studied his reflection.
 
 
His first impression was just how little he looked like himself. Gone was the
pale, skinny boy with glasses and wild, messy hair. In his place was someone
whom people would drool over, if his exploits in London were any indication.
His eyes had always been green, like emerald gemstones, but had now lightened
to a piercing Avada-Kedavra green. His hair remained the same length, but
instead of looking like a robin’s nest, it was mostly straight, with only a
slight curl to it. This topped a lean but muscular figure that, instead of
Harry’s usual short, 5’ 8” height, looked closer to 5’ 11’’ or even a full six
feet. His ears, though… those were the biggest difference. They were no longer
round, but rather elegantly pointed at the ends, poking out timidly from raven
hair. He must have stood there a while, examining him-
 
 
“You’re a looker alright, that’s for sure. Now can we go shopping, or am I
gonna need to drag your chained ass to the school naked?”
 
 
Harry’s reflection blinked long and slow at her statement.
 
 
“Chained? Is that an offer, or a threat Clarissa?”
 
 
It was Clarissa’s turn to blink.
 
 
“I thought you knew. Some of the bounds require the explicit permission of the
boundee. Your magic is tied up sixteen ways to Sunday. That includes your
magical inheritance and elemental abilities, which was why your test was on
mental premises only, and not magical. And I’m not even very good at reading
magical signatures. You really didn’t know?”
 
 
Harry already knew that his magic was bound, but not the extent. Only one
person could have done this, based on Ron and Hermione’s comments when they
thought he had been sleeping. Dumbledore. He kept a tight lid on his anger, but
if he was bound as much as she said, then he could have been raging against the
world and his magic still wouldn’t have reacted. That meant- oh.He decided
right then that he would make Dumbledore burn in his own personal hell before
sending him to the demons of Hell. But in the meantime-
 
 
“How the hell do I fix this?” escaped his thoughts.
 
 
His unconscious statement was met with tinkling laughter.
 
 
“Silly. You either get the person who bound them to unwind them, or you
meditate and get your magic to unwind its self, or, failing that, you go to a
Master and get it unbound. What else would you do? Although judging from the
fact that your magic is currently in turmoil, it popped a few of the bounds
since two nights ago and was not completely undamaged from it. Else, I would
have allowed you to duel me before capturing you.”
 
 
Does this never end?
 
 
“What do you mean, not undamaged?”
 
 
“Do they teach you no magical theory at that school of yours? I know it’s the
laughingstock of the world, but one would think… I suppose I overestimate them.
Anyway, since it’s August First today, you probably came into some sort of
magical inheritance on your birthday. Judging from your looks, I would say that
you have some Fae blood in you, although since your ears don’t come up to the
crown of your head, you are definitely not full-blooded. Probably half,
possibly less. Maybe three-quarters. This would be a creature inheritance. Your
eyes changed, since the blast of Spice I gave you would negate any eye glamors
that you had, and that indicates a glamour- one of the Fae-Folk’s Glamouries,
to be specific- that was broken. From what I got off of your aura, it’s amazing
that you’re still alive and not a squib or somezing. What I meant by my
statement was that since your magical core grew in size and compacticity during
your Inheritance, some of the binds that were holding it broke, like a shirt
two sizes too small for you. Compris? Your magic would have depleted itself
during the process a bit more than normal than if you had cast a high-level
spell. We call that self-inflicted injury ‘damaged.’ If it was you who had used
the magic, we would instead call it ‘magical exhaustion.’ It is only temporary
though, so don’t worry. However, it is recommended that you not use your magic
for several days afterward.”
 
 
Harry closed his eyes, assimilating the information.
 
 
“Can you tell who put the binds on my magic?” he asked. He knew that Dumbledore
had put something on him called ‘master bindings,’ but he didn’t have any way
to research that at the moment. It would be valuable to know if he had any
others to deal with. To make them burn along with Dumbledore. To Harry, it was
sacrilege to do anything to his personal magic except use it and let it grow.
Merlin only knew what effects this will have on him.
 
 
“I can’t tell you who, no. But I can feel different magical signatures, and you
have at least three on you, maybe more. Two are old, at least a decade, and one
is somewhat newer. Granted, it’s hard to tell. I am not the most adept at this,
either. Certainly not the best in my Magical Sensory class, that’s for sure. So
you may have more than three. On the bright side, if I meet the person or come
into contact with something else tainted with this magical signature, I will
recognize it. Unless, of course, the person is dead.” Clarissa yawned after
completing her statement. “Say, can we switch your tuition over to the Academy
now and continue this discussion later? I do not mean to undermine the
importance of this, but there is little we can do immediately. I want to crash
somewhere tonight, and you cannot leave my sight until I’ve brought you over to
the Ether. And at the rate we’re going, it may not be for several weeks yet.”
 
 
Harry took stock of his magical and energy levels. His magic was still
unsettled, and he felt a strange stretching sensation that he thought was most
likely the bindings. His energy… was getting low. It was also dark in the
alleyway, more so then when they had first came there. Sleeping was still a
necessity, and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold off taking stock of
his emotional state, and he wanted to be firmly alone when he did that. There
was also aforementioned research to be done, which probably merited a trip to
Flourish and Blott’s. There was also the matter of…
 
 
“You never asked if I wanted to go to this school. I don’t, for the record. So
tell me, why should I go to a school with death threats and move away from all
of my friends, and away from the guidance of the greatest wizard that I know,
Albus Dumbledore? I won’t transfer anything until you convince me. But… well,
it is getting dark. So how about we get a room at the Leaky Cauldron and
discuss this there? Also, I need to go to the book store. Glamour me and we can
go. How about it?”
 
 
To say the least, she didn’t look impressed at his ultimatum. She did, however,
raise an eyebrow.
 
 
“This is not an option. You shouldn’t be using magic or having magic used on
you until your magic settles, and it will be at least another twenty-four hours
until it does, and probably more with those bindings on it. Also, you want me
to stay in a pub? Forget it. We still have the room at the Luxe in New York.
I’ll bring you there and we can crash. You can go to the book store tomorrow.
In fact, we should just go to Gringotts and do our shopping in the magical
shopping district of New York- Way Square. Savvy? And didn’t you check your
pockets? I put your formal acceptance letter in one, thinking that the first
thing that you would do would be to check your pockets for anything stolen,
like mostpeople would. It explains everything much clearer than I can. This
includes the rather self-explanatory reasons that you would want to enroll to
the school in the first place.”
 
 
Looking at her logic, he had no choice but to agree. He was also curious to see
another magical shopping district. Diagon Alley and Hogsmead were old news to
him by now. He would see about this damn school- Dumbledore wasn’t looking too
hot right now.
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
 
 
After having ‘Portaled’ them to the room where he had been kidnapped, Clarissa
immediately went to a door and opened it.
 
 
“Zis is my room. Yours is at the other end of the common area. I will warn you
once, and only once: do NOT even touch ze doorknob or door unless you want your
hand to be severed off, and if you steel manage to open ze door, zen je te
traînerai jusqu’au huitième cercle d’Esmos!”she snarled. Then came a pleasant
smile on her face. “Bon soir, ‘Aryy Potter.”
 
 
Okaaaaay. Note to self: when tired, she is angry, and prone to mood swings,
which are frightening. Never touch her door or the handle.Harry stared at the
door for a minute afterward, to see if there would be another appearance. There
was none. Turning, he put his hands in his pockets and slowly walked to his
door. He felt the letter that Clarissa had apparently put in there. He entered
the room, sat down on a chair that looked vaguely like a misshapen, flattened
can but was very comfortable, and took the letter out. It was made of yellowed
parchment with the address in a bold jet black ink:
 
 
      To Mr. Harry Potter of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
 
 
That seemed normal enough. Flipping it over, he saw the envelope sealed with a
very peculiar wax seal, which was a quarter glassy white, a quarter royal blue,
a quarter emerald green, and one-quarter bloody red. It was difficult to make
out the design out in the dimmed lights- he got up and turned on the overhead
lights before proceeding. Blinking in the sudden light, he returned to his
perch of pillows and oddly shaped furniture before putting his right index
finger under the flap and slowly slid it diagonally towards the seal. When it
met the seal, his finger experienced a large pinch on the pad and he saw his
blood stain the aged yellow paper. He quickly withdrew his finger and put it in
his mouth. The letter floated up to chin-level and was now glowing - a bright,
sunshine yellow that burnished at the edges of the aura. Suddenly, a crisp
British voice rang out.
 
 
“Your blood has been identified as belonging to Harry James Potter, as
according to his magical birth certificate. It was also identified as being
seconds old. If you are actually Harry James Potter, then you will be able to
hear this. If you are not, then anyone within a proximity of ten meters will be
incapacitated in ten, nine, eight, seven-” A bright flash extended twenty
meters in that second. Considering how the clock and lights went out, Muggle
devices had also become ‘incapacitated,’ leaving only the now white-blue of the
letter to illuminate the space.
 
The voice was back. “Hello, Harry James Potter. If you have received this
letter, then you have been accepted into the Assinists Academy of Formal
Advanced Training, headed by the Assinists Formal Academy Council of
Transdimensionality. I am Khanda, one of the Council’s spokespersons. If
procedure was followed by our junior representatives, then you have passed
their minor test of your attributes and received this letter from them. If
procedure was not followed, then please fill out the appropriate form in the
package and say ‘Return’. Anyone and anything incapacitated by the privacy
measures will resume their natural state when this message is over. If at any
time you would like to pause this message, merely say ‘pause’. To resume, say
‘continue.’
 
 
“A note before I continue. The name on your British Magical Birth Certificate
did not match your Unseelie Fey Magical Birth Certificate, which states that
your name is Chaleur Obdurate Nicodemus Evans-Sy’len. We addressed this to
Harry James Potter since you are attending a British school and are currently
living in Britain. If you want to switch the school’s records, or replace it
with another identity, then there are forms enclosed that you may fill out and
say ‘Switch’ to send.”
 
 
“PAUSE!” Harry shouted out. His head was spinning. He had TWO birth
certificates? Three, if you counted his Muggle records. Who was he? Chaleur
whoever or Harry Potter? Unseelie? Clarissa had said something about having Fae
blood, but… reaching up to feel his newly pointed ears, he took a deep breath
and decided to deal with the ramifications of this later, after the letter was
done with.
 
 
“Continue.”
 
 
“Here at Assinists Academy, we offer a wide variety of courses for the aspiring
magical individual. Our campus, located in New York City of the United States
of America, hosts a variety of events from school contests to the occasional
public execution. Our courses are designed to be personalized to the
individual, so they may travel their academic studies at their own pace. The
introductory courses include but are not limited to Necromancy, Magical Theory,
Divination for the Undivinable, Manipulating Time, Soul Magic, and, of course,
Elemental magic.
 
 
“Our school was founded by and is currently headed by Marnia J’Quan especially
for the small number of Elementals in the magical community to let them arm
themselves and prepare them for the unfortunately necessary task of acquiring
and practicing the skills to defend themselves to the point of killing many
other entities. Since the International Confederation of Wizards in the 1600’s
declared that ‘Any magical person, creature, device, enchantment, or thing that
holds possible control of the elements of nature, termed “Elemental,” shall be
immediately destroyed in any comprehensible way,’ several of our ilk came
together and fled to a realm beyond space and time where we currently exist.
Soon thereafter, our school was founded and a system was put into place, to
train and equip the future generations of Elementals to survive whichever world
they may choose to live in.
 
 
“Prospective student, a clear warning will be put here now. This Academy is not
for the undriven, the unskilled, or the faint at heart. You WILL be required to
kill other humans and animals. We do our best to bring out the potential in
students, but that oftentimes leaves the student dead. If you are not prepared
for these possibilities and eventualities, please request to your emissary for
the ‘Rejection Sequence.’ This includes binding your Elemental magic and wiping
your memories of the emissary and all knowledge of the school. This is done not
only for our security, but yours as well. Your Elemental magic will, for all
intents and purposes, disappear. It may cause damage to you, which you will not
be able to remember. This is to keep you and your lines safe from the regular
Human governing bodies.
 
 
“If you choose to proceed, then please fill out the forms below and give them
to your guide, who will then accompany you to get your supplies and transport
you to the school. Also read the list of school rules enclosed. Term starts
October First and summer break starts the first weekend in July. Please note
that the weekends are open to travel, but if you don’t make in inside the gates
you will either have to wait a week to get inside or find alternate routes to
your classes. Also, getting to classes on time is your issue. Whether the
teachers lock their doors at the starting time is their business. There is no
bell on campus, so it is highly recommended that you invest in a pocket-watch
with a silent alarm. For other details, please look at the enclosed brochure
and Guide of Conduct.
 
 
“Thank you for considering Assinists Academy of Formal Advanced Training, and
we hope that you will choose us for your education.”
 
 
The glow faded, and after several minutes of staring at it in shock, the lights
came back on. He was, as usual these days, shocked. Aside from the ridiculous
entrance letter, the mere idea of this actually existing was, to say the least,
unlikely. But… Clarissa did seem to be something otherworldly, even for the
magical world. He still couldn’t put his finger on what she was, other than
non-human. But that brought up his own… dubious human roots, as well. Fae birth
certificate? What was a Fae, anyway? The only renderings of faeries that he had
seen were the muggle type- with one glaring exception, but were pixies counted
as Fae? Were they even related? He shuddered at the thought. If what the
entrance letter said was correct- and why would they have reason to lie?- he
really, really, really didn’t want to be related to the Cornish pixies that was
set free on his second-year Defense Against the Dark Arts class. And the
classes… He wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to attend any of them. Who wanted
to take Necromancy? And Manipulating Time just sounded like way too much
trouble. And another thing-
 
 
His thoughts were interrupted by a rapid knock on his door. Clarissa came in
dressed in… The most obscene thing he had seen in a long time, actually. It was
a black corset made of lace with shiny leather making something of a grid
pattern on it- otherwise, it was see-through. Her breasts bulged out of the
thing like she was inviting a feel up. He didn’t look at her bottom but once-
he could see a black strip of fabric covering only the most private area of
her, and as she tuned to close the door, he could see nothing there whatsoever-
just flesh. Her hair was down in the usual curtain of that strange white
blonde, lavender-streaked rod-straight silk. She turned around, thankfully, so
he was able to focus on her face again. Then came the part that had him
flushing cherry-tomato red, he was sure. She crawled up on his half-circle seat
and shimmied her way up straddling his legs, which were straight out. In her
slow progress, she would sometimes crawl on all fours; giving him a very clear
view of her chest. By the time she had made it close enough to put her head by
his ear he was softly panting.
 
 
“Do you get the idea of what this school is, now, Yeax Vert? Let me spell it
out for you: We are an elite school of the most talented members of the magical
races. Here you will find elves, dwarves, vampires and werewolves in addition
to wizards and many other magical species. Can you handle this? Or shall I wipe
your memories and you can go back to living the life you had before?”
 
 
She leaned back as she said this, letting him breathe. Could I? He wondered.
Can I handle being among the tippy-top fittest while in a race for survival? He
knew that he was not the best, by any means. But even if I’m not, then what
does abandoning this mean?But he knew perfectly well what it entailed. I would
be sent back to the Durselys and left in the dark. The mind wipe would probably
leave me missing three days of time, with all that it entails and all that I
have found out. Going back is not an option. Which leaves me nigh but one
choice-.
 
 
“I accept. I will go to Assinists,” he said, steel in his eyes and voice. It
promptly collapsed the moment that Clarissa literally flung herself at him. Her
hands wrapped around his waist and squeezed, letting him feel every contour of
her body. She looked up at him through eyes framed with long, dark lashes and
the straight bangs that partially covered her eyes and spoke.
 
 
“Very wonderful zen, Yeux Vert. Very wonderful. Now, shall we celebrate?” The
emphasis on the last word seemed to get heavier with each second. He became
ultra-aware of his surroundings. Of the body pressed up against him. Of the
cold air flowing out of the lavish room’s A/C unit and nipping his skin,
creating a melodious harmony with the heat of the woman hugging him. His eyes
darted around the room; anywhere but down, even as she wriggled on his lap. The
atmosphere became so heavy with… something, and he didn’t know what that
something was, either.
 
 
Now, if Harry had bothered to look down, he would not see the pleading,
smoldering expression that he expected would be on her face. No, he would have
seen a look of intense concentration. For Clarissa was influencing Harry- or
rather, tryingto. Eventually, she gave up and went slack in her greed-eyed
companion’s hold.
 
 
That got his attention. He looked down, afraid of what he might see. What he
found was not what he was expecting. He saw a face that was completely relaxed
eyes closed. Her breathing was deep and even. He would have thought her asleep
if not for her lips moving and sound coming out for him to hear.
 
 
“Why? Why did I have to get stuck with the only goddamned bisexual person on
the new roster list? I wanted un snaaaaaack…” With those last words, all
movement but the steady rise and fall of her chest ceased. She was firmly
asleep, it seemed.
 
 
Great, Harry groused to himself. Just great. Now how am I going to go to bed
with a half-naked lady lying on my legs?
 
 
… Wait, snack!?!?!?
 
 
{°~<^>~°}
Chapter End Notes
     This is what a summer of 90 degree heat has done to me. Even here, in
     mid-October it is STILL reaching 88-90 F most every day. Hopefully,
     it will get colder, and I can think, and therefore update, more
     often.
      
     To my lovely PrettyPheonix, I thank you once again for your help with
     the French in this work. All credit to the translation of the phrases
     in French go to her
      
     I learned what it meant to re-write this chapter. Boy, wasn't that a
     bitch. The entire Acceptance Letter had to be re-worked. Took
     forever. I hope I will never have to do it again. Granted, I most
     probably just jinxed myself. -.-
      
     I am still looking for a beta-reader for grammar and consistency. I
     apologize for any flaws in this chapter, because I didn't go over it
     the usual 10 or 20 times.
      
     So, what did you all think of this chapter? Any thoughts on
     Clarissa's species? And I must ask, and please answer me honestly -
     is she a Mary-Sue? That haunts me, because she is my first well-
     developed OC.
     Also, I changed the tags a bit and re-vamped my previous chapters a
     bit. Chexk it out, if you want. You'll want to re-download the story
     if you PDF'd it.
      
     This is far more planned out now, and you are in for some fun once we
     get past all of these boring intro chapters. Also, is the writing
     style to your taste? Am I re-using words too much? Do you like the
     plot so far? Is Harry too OOC? Tell me! :-)
      
     A few more notes that don't specifically relate to this story: Songs
     for Spock has been taken down on this site, but you can still find it
     at fanfiction.net . Updates are ongoing, albeit slowly.
      
     Also, I started a blog - readerwriterfan.blogspot.com . I currently
     have a few drafts up of trying to get into a charaters head (I was
     not successful), a rough draft of my NEXT FANFICTION, along with some
     notes about me, what I do, and what you're liable to find on the
     blog.
      
     A little info about my next fanfic: The fandom is strictly
     Kuroshitsuji, which is a Japanese Manga. You can find English
     translations of it on many different sites, but I use kissmanga.com
     because of the formatting. Highly recommended, and no yaoi
     (homosexuality). The soundtrack from the anime (FUNimation has posted
     all the episodes both in sub and dub on youtube, but you need an
     account to verify your age) is HIGHLY recommended. Anyway, the title
     is 'To Fly and to Fall,' and another OC fic of mine, but with some
     really interesting twists. I already have two chapters and a pretty
     decent lemon written (I never knew writing lemons were so much fun!)
     So check it out. Once I have a little more planning and some more
     written on it, it will go up here with an abridged version on ff.n.
     Happy reading, everyone!
***** A/N *****
Chapter Summary
     Story Update
Please note that this story is abandoned. This is some pretty awful writing to
me now, and I'm formally announcing that I've discontinued it. If enough people
are interested, I am willing to share my notes and art I've made for this.
 
Thank you for your interest. If you're interested in seeing more recent (and
much better) work, I have a tumblr (same name as here), and several of my
stories are cross posted here.
 
~AfanofManyStuffs
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!