Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way shape or form. Any and all information that is directly quoted or taken from the books or movies belongs to Warner Bros. and/or J. K. Rowling.

This Story will diverge from the story and plot line of the Harry Potter series in an extreme way! If you don't like that don't read it. This story will not be slash. I'm rating it T to be safe because I honestly have no idea what it will be appropriate for.

Prologue

Harry stood in the middle of a graveyard. It was an old graveyard in an old town. Full of aging gray tombstones spread over a green carpet, the graveyard looked like many such establishments of the dead scattered throughout the small towns of England. But it wasn't. This was not the same as others because here rests the ancestors of one Hadrian James Evans Potter Peverell Gryffindor, last heir of the Pendragon line.

In Loving Memory of James Potter & Lily Potter

Yes, they both died on October 31, 1981; just as he was told by Hagrid a month ago.

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."

What kind of tripe is that to be written on his parents graves? Who ordered that? Who had kept him from seeing it until now? Harry almost snarled as he turned away from the large marble stone marker. Death was, in a way, defeated (he supposed) when he survived, but the chosen quote didn't sit well with him. Not at all.

In the town he'd found a statue of him and his parents and their old house still blown to pieces set up as a memorial. In the book store, Flourish and Blotts, were several books making ambitious "factual" statements about his own life. Though he supposed they had finally been truthful about one thing, where his home was. Godric's Hollow. It all made him sick to his stomach. How was he to handle this new world? These people were ridiculous in so many ways. It scared him a little. Usually when he was forced in a new environment (rare though that may be) he would try to fade into the background as much as possible to see the rules of engagement, so to speak, before even contemplating when and how he would join the flow. This would apparently not be easy in this throw back world.

He took a deep breath and turned back around. "Hello. Sorry it took so long to find you again. I didn't know where you were…not even your names! I did try to find out about you I swear! All that got me was more bruises and more lies." A tear slowly dripped down the side of his face. "I know where you are now, though. Do you think, if I died, they'd put me with you? I suppose they would…after all that would fit with the whole 'memorial' and 'celebrity' status I've been given. My death would make the front page news unlike my living circumstances. You have no idea what all I've found out in this last month. It's insane! I'm freaking out and haven't been able to eat for days at a time…well more days at a time than usual. I'm only telling you this because I think you must have actually cared. You MUST have. After all, you died for me. Then at least you, at the very least you mother, must have loved me, right? I'm ok on my own. I always have been! But, sometimes, even in my mind's home, sometimes I'm just so lonely. Please! Wherever you are, don't forget me. Please love me still." By this time Harry was huddled up next to the stone with tears pouring unchecked down his face. "I hope death isn't defeated…I hope it's a lie. I will be with you someday, so don't forget me."

He carefully placed the small bouquet of anemones at the base of the gravestone and stood up. After quickly scrubbing his tears away on his sleeves he turns towards the gate. It's time to head to London and Kings Cross Station in the morning.