From the weird and twisted mind of someone who raps "Demonic by my nature but so Divine in my nurture", It's really better if you don't ask.

Edited by author 12-27-10 (felt it had to be done)

Chapter one: Birth

Geneva Lefèvre nee Delven died in the year 1678 at the age of 27. She was one of the few witches caught during the Witch Hunts and one of the fewer who didn't have enough time to cast a flame-freezing charm on themselves. And the worst part about this that it was entirely her fault for being found out. She had turned into her animal form of a goat and went out for one of her usual runs around the meadow but when she got back to her home she had forgotten to look around her before returning to human form, letting one of the villagers see her.

She died burning to a stake outside of the very church she married her husband in just a few years ago.

When she died she had worried for her baby girl so she refused to pass on. She forced her spirit to bind to their family home, but when she searched through it in her astral form she found the house empty and in a rush it seemed. Her husband probably took the baby when he heard about the burning. He, a non-magical himself, couldn't do much for her. Taking their child far away would probably be the smartest and best thing to do.

Knowing that her family was now safe wherever they went, Geneva now had time to be scared for herself. She did not know what laid ahead of her in the afterlife, if she would be punished for her simple desire to see her family or not. She could hear the other sides call whispering, yelling, in her ear to come but she was just too scared. Too terrified to move on from her current plain of existence and go into the light that she could see in the corner of her eye, so she stayed.

She just stayed in her home's little library haunting the small home in France. A year after her death the people of the town came into her home and started to take her things. Since none of them were magical they could not see her but they could feel the creeping cold of her presence. They ignored the cold as they took her family possessions. As hard as it was to see these possessions being taken away from her home she also saw this as a chance to do what she never did before her death, travel the world, or to at least get away from the place that held so many bitter sweet memories and feelings.

She fixed herself to one of the books that they were taking from her library. Apparently the town decided to hold an auction of their local witch's belongings. This was not an uncommon practice by the people, it was either burn it all or make some money out of it.

It was difficult to just float there and watch every last item she held of value in life just be taken away as if she never existed. But through the selling she saw that one group gave the occasional glance towards her, implying to her that they were also magical. Probably here to gain something of magical value from her death.

When the book she haunted came up for bidding she floated over with it and noticed the raised eyebrows she received from the people she assumed were magical. Those people also won the bid for the book and a few other things that solidified her view that they were magical, old potions vials, spell books, and apparently some of her dresses were worth buying.

She stayed with the magical family for about twenty years, witnessing them and many others of the nearby magics go into hiding under the International Statue of Magical Secrecy act of 1692. At that point she grew wary of the family. At first they seemed like a nice enough family but as the years went on and they had to go into hiding she watched as they all became bitter towards the non-magical, now calling them muggles a term to call them fools, for putting them into hiding and seemed to be dabbling into the most disgusting types of magic. So one day in winter when a stray bird came close enough to the home, she bound herself to the bird and they both flew away to its migration.

She traveled with the bird for a few days, disgusted by some of its eating habits. They eventually landed in a small shipping town where she attached herself to a ship named Alicea, probably after someone's daughter or lover. She enjoyed sailing with that lively crew for many years and even stayed on when the captain passed the ship down to his son, and still stayed on when the ship was destroyed and they got a new one.

The crew sailed to many countries in both Europe and Africa with a few side trips to Asia. Even if none of them could see her she enjoyed the trips. She met a few other ghosts on her trips as well as a few magical. She followed a few other crews and people since, allowing her to see large portions of the world she never even knew existed. She seen the new world and it colonies, she haunted the ship in Boston when they tossed all the tea in the harbor, she saw the horrors of the slave trade, she saw both the World Wars, she seen lovers seeing each other after years of separation, she seen magic being made and discover in various forms. She's seen revolution, she's seen love, she's seen horror, and she saw so much that she only grew more fearful of moving on.

In 1984 she had bound herself to a grandfather clock and was shipped to Great Britain. She and the clock stayed in the store window for little over a year until a portly man with a walrus like mustache purchased the clock.

She was mildly disappointed to see the neighborhood she was being shipped into looked so bleak and boring. Every house seemed so similar that even the grass looked like a copy of the blade next to it. She had guessed that her stay here will be short and be one of her more boring stays. She was actually about to attach herself to the truck and get away from that place but then something caught her eye.

When someone dies they lose and miss many things, the sense of touch, the sense of taste and as hard as it is to believe the weight of their bodies. But what they gain are two things, the ability to literally feel magic and what would best be described as a spiritual sight, the ability to literally see someone's soul. Both those senses picked something up from inside the house she was being lifted into. A strong but rather beaten up red soul shining brightly through the cracks of the house and an intense feeling of magic that seemed to come in constant waves. She thought that maybe this was some wizard's home and that he sent his non-magical servant to fetch him a clock.

But she was proven wrong when she entered the home and was placed against the hallways wall next to a cupboard. The home was too stiff and plain to be magical, even the most neat and orderly of magical people would have something 'odd' or seemingly out of place in their home and their homes usually screamed with life. But this home was so plain and barely held the sense that someone lived there. And the strangest part is that the soul she noticed seemed to be coming from the cupboard next to her.

Floating away from her clock she poked her head through the wall and saw a small green eyed child, with a lightning bolt shaped scar above his right eyebrow, staring back at her in surprise. She held a similar expression on her face as well as she saw the owner of the soul. Red usually meant a passionate and brave person, a soul she saw in many in the new world and on the battle field of the wars but never had she seen such a vibrant red on child. How could a soul that shined so bright belong to such a frail looking child who didn't even look like he was a day passed his fifth, maybe sixth birthday? And not only that, the amount of magic she felt coming off of him belonged to someone at least ten years his senior.

At first the boy seemed afraid but he then swallowed the lump in his throat and stared her right in the eyes "Who are you?"

Geneva was set back a bit. It obvious that the boy never seen a ghost before but he didn't stammer and went straight by the question 'what are you'.

She entered the room fully and gave a small cough, it wasn't needed but she felt it helped her in speaking English. "My name is Geneva Lefèvre, it is a pleasure to meet you" her English was very good with just a hint of her French accent but of course having a few decades to practice helped.

Harry gave her a small smile "My names Harry Potter." He scrunched his face in thought, an act she found adorable and made her wish once again that she could have seen her daughter grow up "Are you a ghost?"

She gave him an amused smile that screamed 'what do you think' "Yes I am"

Harry's face scrunched a little bit more "Uncle Vernon said ghost don't exist."

"Well, I'm here aren't I?" Harry nodded "Then I must exist" The boy nodded again, slowly, as if he was trying to take it in. As he did this she noticed how he was cradling his right arm. "Are you alright?"

The boy looked unsure how to answer as he held his arm tighter to himself "I'm fine. Arm just hurts a bit." The ghostly woman frowned and floated down to a spot on the bed next him, making the boy shiver a little because of the cold she emitted.

"Let me see it." The boy, who was taught to always do what an adult says, held his arm out reluctantly. Geneva scanned the arm over and frowned at the swelling and the way it seemed to bend. "I think this is broken. You should go see a healer."

The boy tilted his head to the side at the mention of healer "You mean a doctor?"

She nodded her head realizing this boy was probably being raised non-magical. "Yes, you should get there soon so it does not miss-set." She paused for a minute "How long has it been since it's been hurt?"

"I don't know. A while." The woman shook her head already knowing that the healers would need to re-break his arm to set it right.

She placed her ghostly hands over the swollen area and heard a sigh of relief from the boy when her cold hands touched "Is that better?"

"Much, thank you." The pain was still there but the cold eased it greatly.

The woman then took a brief minute to take in the room and was disgusted by what she saw. It reminded her of the slave ship she haunted once. It was small, dusty and cramped, she doubted she would have fitted in there comfortably if she was alive. The cupboard was barely lit by a dim blinking bulb above their heads, giving it a gloomy feeling. The cot Harry was sitting on was small and thin with a hint of mold on one corner. By the foot of the bed was a pale with flies hovering over it, tilting her head towards it she saw it was filled with urine and waste, it made her grateful that she couldn't smell anymore. Completing the image was two empty plates by the cat flap of the door where stale pieces of bread laid with some nibble marks on them. The only thing that made this image worse to her was the fact that outside of that room was a perfectly good home.

"Why are you in the cupboard Harry?" She asked gently wanting to know why a hurt child would be staying in such a horrible place.

"I don't know. I was watching Dudley play with some of his new toys and wanted to play with one and then it was in my hand. After that Aunt Petunia screamed and Uncle Vernon started to hit me, yelling something about 'not having a freak in his home'. I don't remember much, thing kind of went black and then I was back in my room. But it's okay, I'm use to it" He finished that off with a smile.

She found several things wrong with that. One was that he got beat for accidental magic, even back in her time when witches and wizards started to be hated they rarely punished a magical child. Two was that all he really did was taking a toy that wasn't being used to play with. Three was that he considered this filthy little cupboard to be his room. And last, he was used to this, meaning it happened often. She had to do something.

"Harry, I'll be back in a minute, alright?" Harry nodded his head and Geneva floated out of the room and looked down the hallway. She saw the fat man from earlier standing next to an abnormally thin woman smiling proudly at their new clock while a voice in the back was screaming for his mother to make him food. She silently seethed at this and forced herself to move on.

She made it to the edge of the property before she reached her space limit, she could only go about a twenty yards away from her bounded. She looked around and noticed people walking down the street, she screamed out to them hoping that they were magical but it was a failure. She screamed for a while longer hoping anyone in the area could hear her but again it was for not.

Realizing floating there screaming wouldn't solve anything she went back to the cupboard. She sighed as she entered through the wall and placed her hands over the swollen arm, getting a sound of relief from the child. "I'm sorry Harry, but there were no people of magic around so I couldn't get anyone's attention."

Harry looked at her strange, using that questioning look all children had. Realizing that he was probably a non-magically raised child he didn't know what she meant. She gave him a soft smile as she attempted to explain it to him "Only people of magic can see ghost Harry. And you Harry are a person of magic. How do the English say it, a wizard?"

Harry scrunched his nose again as he thought "Uncle Vernon said magic doesn't exist. He says little boys who believe in magic get beat." Geneva didn't know whether to gasp or grind her ghostly teeth. Magic, whether they can use it or not, was something all children should be able to believe in. Magic was hope and possibilities. How could someone try and take that away from a child.

She stroked the small child's face, knowing she couldn't actually touch him but hoped it comforted him "It exist Harry. There is a whole other world out there just waiting for you."

The boy's face lit up at the thought and so many things made sense to him. Like how things would start floating around him or how some of his boo-boos healed so quickly, both of which got him hurt again if his relatives saw. But could he let such a hope seep into him, a hope his uncle would only smack and scream out of him. He decided it was okay, as long as they never found out.

As Geneva watched the boy's face play through emotions she bound herself to him making him her new anchor. She was not letting this child out of her sight and as soon as she found a magical she would drag them over to help the boy by any means she could.

It was two days before the boy's "family" showed themselves, save the time they slid a slice of toast or other barely livable morsels under the door. The aunt just sneered at the smell and turned her nose up, telling the boy to dump the filth in the trash can out back. He asked if he go see a doctor about his arm, she looked like she was about to yell at him but even she could see the odd bend it had and not wanting to look bad to her neighbors she agreed.

After dumping and cleaning out his pail Harry got in the car with his disgruntled looking uncle. Geneva was proven right as the doctors had to brace Harry to re-break his arm so it could set right. On the way to and from the hospital the ghost looked for someone who might be able to see her but apparently in Britain very few liked to hide in plain sight. She was also upset when the healers actually believed the lie the fat man told them of the boy falling out of a tree. Sure it is a believable excuse but couldn't they tell the difference between a broken arm from falling from a tree and one from getting hit?

Being a person of magic, and an above average one in strength for his age, Harry healed in two weeks. This stunned the doctor when they did the second x-ray and made his uncle furious. When they got home Vernon took off his long belt and started to lash at the boy's back with the buckle. Geneva wished she could slap the man to make his stop or at least something more then make him feel an occasional cold breeze.

All she could really do when this happened was offer her presence to the boy and use her cold touch to ease the pain. She continued to look for someone who could see her on their rare occasion out but the every time she seemed to find someone able to see her and actually bothered listening to her she got pulled away from as her anchor got dragged out of the area.

She actually cheered for joy when her boy started going to school at the end of summer, he could finally tell someone about the abuse and maybe make some friends. But his uncle already went out of his way to warn him about what would happen if he talked and his cousins little gang made sure no one would be Harry's friend. The last one who actually tried to befriend they became there second biggest victim next to Harry.

After their first test in class Harry learned it was bad to do better than his cousin. When he got 100 made into a smiley face while his cousin got a 70 his cousin beat him on the way home and his uncle slapped him when he got home while his aunt berated him.

Geneva didn't know if she should feel proud or worried when Harry only let out two tears while he took the pain. But when he went back to his cupboard he cried digging his face in to his pillow where Geneva's lap would have been. He cried how he didn't like his family and that he actually felt bad about that, he cried how he didn't want to give them satisfaction of hearing him cry. All Geneva could do was whisper to the boy that it was alright and everything would be alright, even when she doubted it herself. She wished she could just have him run away but she knew how the world was and she knew how hard it would be for a five year old boy on his own. She felt more helpless than she did tied to the post.

Despite the having to hold himself back in school Harry generally enjoyed school. It was an escape from that place of chores and cramped rooms. Even when he couldn't have friends or had to run on one of his cousin Dudley's "Harry Hunts" he could enjoy the sun and being able to actually talk to others, even if it was only the faculty. He liked spending his recess outside lying in the grass and talking to Geneva, having her tell him stories of her travels. Even when it started to snow he would lay on the ground, ignoring the ghost's fussing about him catching a cold, he would enjoy the sun and the wind biting at his nose.

One day when he was walking back to number four Dudley and his friends started another Harry Hunt. Harry slipped on a patch of ice in his run and fell on his chin allowing the gang of five year olds to catch him. After hitting him a few times Dudley's friend Pierce told the rest of them to hold Harry down "Guys hold him down, I got an idea."

The other boys did as he said each pinning down one of his limbs, his right hurting the most from his fat cousin sitting on it, and Pierce sat on his chest and pulled something out of his pocket. "Like it, my dad gave it to me for when we go hunting." When he finished his sentence he flipped out the small blade out of its handle and held Harry's head by his neck "Now hold still Potter while I make your scar cooler."

All through the time this happened Geneva screamed at them, whacking her intangible limbs at them. But she could do nothing, not even that sudden burst of cold bothered them since it was winter. So all she could really do was watch in horror as Harry struggled against boys in vain.

Pierce started at the top of the scar tracing the design and letting loose the blood. The other boys seemed nervous when they saw the blood but after Pierce and Dudley's yelling they stayed where they were. Pierce then cut through the eyebrow, making sure to press down hard, and made a quick deep slice through his eye, stopping a little passed the cheek bone.

Pleased with his work he got up from his spot on his chest and inspected his work. The other boys got up and looked as well, only one pleased while the other three looked sick. But they all had the same response when Harry's body started to jerk, twist and spasm. Get out of there before they get in trouble.

As the boys ran away Geneva looked on in horror, not at Harry's spasming but at the sickly green color that started to raid its way into Harry's bright red soul. The two colors fought and tore at each other. She knew if this continued they would both kill each other and the body would be left dead without a soul.

She could think of only one way to help the boy at the moment and it was something that she was warned and feared to do, possession, the act of entering another body and taking it over. She was warned by a senior ghost not to do this because it was dangerous and risked being torn into nothingness by the soul she was trying to invade. But right now she didn't care if she ended her near four hundred year existence if it meant saving this child.

She took one last gulp of what she wished was air and dove into the child's body and soul. She was surprised that when she entered she could hear a familiar 'clack' of a goat's hoof. Looking down at herself she could see her old animagus form of a mountain goat, glowing faintly of her soul color, a pale blue.

Taking her attention away from herself and onto her task she was risking existence for, she started walking towards the sound of a struggle ahead of her. Not walking far she found herself looking at a bright red lion cub backing away with a growl on its lips, showing its sharp teeth, facing a very large green snake coiled up and looking ready to strike.

Letting out a loud "Baaahh!" of a battle cry she rammed her horns against the serpent, sending it whirling back a few feet and stood between it and the cub. The snake recollected it's self into a coil and raised its head high so it was looking down at them, Geneva stomping her hooves as it slid out its tongue like mad and made a sneer like gesture.

"Do not interfere!" It hissed loudly "This body shall be mine! It is his fate! To give his body so I can rise again!" As it rose higher to look down at the French woman she could see that parts of him weren't really there, like they were see through or fading away. She had a clue at what this thing might be. She had heard whispers about it during both her life and her after life. The act of tearing ones soul apart and placing it in another object, one of the darkest and most sickening types of magic she ever heard of. An anchor to this world so one could not truly pass on. And from the looks of the… creature in front of her whoever the soul once was had done the disgusting act more than once.

"You are a Horcrux, aren't you?" She managed to bah out and stared into the snake's surprised eyes.

The snake getting over its surprise gave a sick smile and then a laugh "Yessss, I am a part of the great Lord Voldemort! And for him to rise again this body needs to become mine"

Her mind racing rapidly as she tried to figure out a way to stop this hostile invasion of the young boy's body. But at the moment as injured as his soul and body were, it might be fatal to drag and or push this vile soul out. As much as she hated the idea there was only one thing she could think of to get Harry out of this. If the only solution to stop a hostile invasion was not surrender but to ally oneself or come to an agreement, then by all means that is what needs to be done.

"So you're just a part, doesn't that mean that mean you were abandoned." She said trying to play with the possible ego of the soul. If one wished to be immortal then they would most likely have an ego, and even better for her at the moment, a fear of dying.

And apparently it did "What! No! I am him! We shall be everlasting!"

"No, that would be him, the one who made you. What you are is just an anchor, a tool to him. To be used and thrown away after the use is done. You are nothing but a means to an end" She stayed silent as she let that thought plant its way into the soul's memory before she pressed further "Don't you want to be something more than just a tool? Do you really want to help the man that abandoned you?"

As she let silence reign again she watched as the snake debated her words in its head before sneering and looking at her. It hated to admit it but she had a point. All a Horcrux was to Voldemort was a tool so he wouldn't have to die. And he made more than one, totally ignoring the warnings of the book, so it was probably seen as disposable to him. Something he would use and abandon when he didn't need it any longer. It would not let itself to be used, Tom Marvolo Riddle was nobodies tool, he was no one's stooge. And he would take revenge on those who tried.

"What do you propose?"

She gave slight sigh in relief as her plan seemed to work before a sick feeling came from where her stomach should have been. "At his rate both you and this child will die. Your souls feuding over this body WILL tear you apart." The snakes head actually flinched back at the thought of dying and she was sure the cub behind her had a similar reaction. " What I suggest you do is… to become something new. Become whole again. Become more than what he was. Become one with this boy's soul."

As she spoke the snakes seemed to smile more and more at the idea. It actually saw her point. It was abandoned just to be a tool and becoming something that he couldn't use was appealing to it, even if it meant losing itself.

The snake made a gesture similar to a smile. The book he read on Horcrux said that breaking the soul apart would weaken oneself and it said something about affecting the user's state of mind, but Voldemort ignored all that in favor of becoming eternal. By becoming one with the boy would not only his magic get stronger but the boy would have his memories, which meant that it would be a fresh start stronger than ever before. The one who abandoned him would pay greatly.

Seeing that the snake was agreeing Geneva turned towards the cub behind her. It was still glaring at the snake but seemed more at ease than before with her there. "Harry," she said gaining the cubs attention.

"Ms. Geneva?"

"Yes Harry, now listen we don't have much time. Right now both of you are about to kill each other." The cub gained a scared look on its face "But there is a way for you to survive and I've managed to convince him to go with it." She paused in how she would word this to the boy "In order to survive both of you needs to stop being you and become one."

Harry's muzzle scrunched up in a disgusted gesture "I know it sounds bad but it's the only way you'll be able to live, even if you aren't completely you." After she said this she let out a wince as her shoulder visible tore, like she was made of paper.

The snake smiled at seeing this. If he was going to do this he might as well get as much power as possible. "It seems you are in the same situation as we are. So why don't you join us on this little endeavor. Your choice, merge or die."

The goat glared at him, feeling as if she already was taking too much from the boy. She was taken out of her glaring by a slight bumping at her knee. Looking down she saw Harry's face looking up at her "Do it."

She gave him a sad look "Harry, I couldn't do that to you. You are already losing so much. Adding me in would just make less you."

"I don't care, I don't you to go away." Harry's soul looked ready to cry as he stared at her. She gave a small debate but in all honesty it wasn't that hard of a choice. She agreed and the three started to blend.

Harry felt a melting like sensation as he watched his bright red meet the pale blue and sick green. He half expected them to swirl together but it was like the other two got pulled into him. It was like water going into a sponge.

Soon the melting feeling stopped and the sensation changed to something that felt like he was stiffening or becoming more solid, like he was building or growing. His mind raced with knowledge, memories, experiences, and dreams. It felt like his mind was about to blow. The other two noticed the strain on the young so soul as they grew closer to being one and pushed everything they could back using a great deal of the snake's experience in the mind arts to do so. They sealed it in a way that the knowledge would leak and siphon as he grew older or needed it. This act was done reluctantly by the snake but it understood that in order to survive this and get back at the one who wanted to use it as a tool it needed to be done.

As they continued to blend morals and ideals clashed and argued. Likes and dislikes made, ambition met courage, a hate that has gone blinded was now seen in logical and innocent eyes, and a will to die kicking and screaming was forged.

The fragment of Lord Voldemort and the soul of the French maiden no longer existed, Harry potter no longer really existed. That day when the scar was torn and a friend made a sacrifice a new being was born, someone with more soul than anyone.

I read a few Fanfics like this and you know your boy had to have a go at it. Tell me what you think.