The Moon Has Spoken

Chapter 12

The Bleeder

Halloween was drawing near.
Molly had convinced Fiddler to throw a celebration party and she had been more than eager to accompany her to do some grocery shopping, much to Arthur’s pleasure, who was unbelievable thrilled with the perspective of spending a day among Muggle stores and artifacts. Tonks wanted to go as weas sas she was forbidden to change her appearance by means of magic and needed to find a suitable costume, so in the end everyone but Severus squeezed into the van for a shopping trip to the city.

Severus stayed behind, sitting in the music room, staring at the piano and thinking of Fiddler’s wonderful voice.
He had wandered around at nights, hoping to hear her again, but apparently she had decided to drop her midnight singing for good. Severus couldn’t believe she actually felt embarrassed as it had been a while since he’d had the privi of of hearing a voice like that, but apparently there were some issuess with Fiddler regarding her self-esteeme.
So far, she didn’t seem to have one, if it didn’t involve medicine.

It was appalling, to say the least.

Severus had noticed since they had come toe wie with her, that she never ever looked at her reflection in windowpanes or mirrors, like the rest of the females did, as if she couldn’t stand the sight of herself. He had also noticed she always wore her hair in a tight braid curled on the nape of her neck or falling heavily down her back, away from her face and sight, as if she hated it as well. Hermione, Ginny and Tonks had discovered there wasn’t a single fashion magazine around the house, and Severus had heard Fiddler’s acerbic tone when she was questioned about it:

“I do not waste my money and time in that kind of idiocy”.

It was almost as if Fiddler thought of her body and outer appearance as a terrible burden she had to put up with in order to keep her brain alive, the only part of her she seemed to like.
But he had caught the sad, envious glances she shot at Tonks and Lupin when she thought no one else was watching, and had heard her talk to her dog when she thought she was alone, hearing her voice tremble with unshed tears, cuddling the animal and dancing around with him as if he was a slightly overgrown baby.

She walked around, snapping, challenging, laughing out loud, avoiding mirrors as if she was a vampire striding as if taking part of a martial parade, always dressed with her psychodelic scrubs, driving her van like a lunatic, hearing music all day long as if she didn’t had a care in the world… But quite oftenly she’d take a detour in her apparently determined path to take care of and abandoned animal, to offer it food, water, shelter and her deeply hidden affection. She had quickly turned her house into a haven for homeless cats and dogs she found on her way to work and back.
And truth be told, she was right. She did have a thing with animals. They totally adored her, following her around the house as a very bizarre group of valets, always led by a smug-looking Triskelion, kissing the ground she stepped on and guarding her with fur, teeth and claws. It was hilarious sometimes.

The Animal Queen.

But she seemed thrilled with her court of furry adorers, who where right now heralding her arrival, mewing and barking madly at the front door, waiting for her to get in and lick her to death.

Severus was startled to feel his own body tense in anticipation, and he thought bitterly that if he was to turn into a puddle everytime he sensed she was near he might as well Transfigure himself into a cat so he wouldn’t differ from the others.
Then she’d find easier to— But he smothered the thought away. Indeed, she was a match for him. She, as well, wanted to be loved, but wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to offer it. She seemed to have developed a shield that screamed ‘get away from me’, and apparently no one had been brave enough to get past that barrier.

But he, Severus Snape, was too old for that. He was just lusty, he mused, and lust could be dealt with.


He heard the rustle of people rushing into the kitchen and disposing of the acquired items, music thundering from the CD player, laughter, noises and happy exclamations coming out of the door. He sighed. He had grown used to them in the past months, but he certainly wasn’t overjoyed by their company…
He rose from his chair by the piano and thought it thrice before walking towards the kitchen. Severus seriously thought that going in there was a matter of bravery, considering the noises that came from it, all seasoned up with giggles and the uproar of muggle music.
He carefully pushed the door opened and froze on the spot, watching the so called Order of the Phoenix dancing around the kitchen table, brandishing cooking tools of all sorts and singing their lungs out.

But God don\'t make lonely girls
Sure didn\'t want \'em in His world
God don\'t make lonely girls

I gotta make her see
I\'m a guarantee
Oh, if she\'d only come along with me
Well I can make her see
Gonna take a walk right through these walls
\'Cause she\'s comin\' home with me
I ain\'t even gonna touch her at all
Man, I\'m only gonna lay awake and watch her sleep

The song finished just then, just when I was thinking to step in, Severus thought ironically, and they all turned to see him, as if expecting him to comment.

“Sounds like a sensitive fellow”, Severus said, doing an effort. “So is that an example of a romantic Muggle song?”.

Fiddler laughed openly.

“He’s talking about a hooker”, she said, and Ginny and Hermione joined her in her laughter.

Severus felt his jaw tense and said nothing. He squared his shoulders and prepared his flourishy departure when Fiddler held him.

“Oh, loosen up, man”, she used that phrase a lot towards him. “It’s only laughter. It won’t kill you”.
The two other girls giggled even harder.

“Oh, serious now. There is a song on that CD that makes me think of you”, Fiddler added; Severus’ stomach gave a somewhat pleasant lurch. She thought of him whilst listening to a song? Surely not. He watched her in silence as she meddled with the CD player until she found the song she meant.

“There we go”, she announced. “Silence everyone!!! I give you— The Bleeder!”

The lurch Severus felt was really unpleasant this time. His rational mind knew that she couldn’t possibly know that was how the Death Eaters used to call him, but his increased heartbeat and the sweat on his brow told him otherwise.

The song had started, and he listened to it against his will.

Once upon a time
They called me the bleeder
Well swimmin\' up this river
With sentimental fever
But this ain\'t my first ride
It ain\'t my last try
Just got to keep movin\' on
If they catch me ever
They\'ll throw me back forever

Everybody had turned to look at him. Even Harry looked impressed. And indeed, the blasted singer was voicing his deeper thoughts.

I guess I should be ashamed
But I forget to be vain
Well I did the best I could I guess,
But everything just bleeds…
They say you\'re only sad and lonely,
And no one is impressed.

“For the love of Merlin…” someone whispered, probably Ginny, but Severus couldn’t tell.


I sent it off in a letter
I need somethin\' better
Than a nail and a hammer
To put me back together
But this ain\'t my first ride
It ain\'t my last try
Just got to keep a-movin on
Got to keep this together
Maybe next time is never


”I think I’d better turn it off”, Fiddler said quietly, noting the look on Severus’s face. She walked again towards the CD player and the music stopped abruptly. She noticed how everyone else’s gazes wandered uncomfortably around the kitchen, trying to avoid looking at Snape.

“I am sorry, Severus”, she said, firmly. “That was tactless of me”.

“Think nothing of it”, was the dry reply.

“All right. Now, shall we finish dinner, kids? I am sure everyone’s hungry”, she smiled again and ushered Severus out of the room, with the mission of finding some unexistent nectarines in the orchard; but he still was able to hear Tonks saying:

“I don’t believe it… Like a glove it suits him, that song does”.

“I know! It’s almost as if he was singing it himself”, Ginny said.

“I would like to live to hear that!”, Ron added, “wouldn’t you, Harry? HARRY?”

“Oh, yeah… Sorry. It’s just… I am beginning to see him in a new light. I just wonder why did he get so upset”.

Severus peered through the door ajar just in time to see the withering look that Fiddler gave Harry.

“That was foolish of me”, Fiddler said. “I should have known he wouldn’t like to be exposed like that. So much for my supposed insightfulness.”

Severus turned to walk away, trying hard not to acknowledge the fact that she was, in fact, more insightful than she thought.

~*~*~*~

Fiddler couldn’t find the time to talk tveruverus until later that night. Or rather, early the next morning.
She had meant to, but preparations for Halloween’s celebration had kept them all busy, and on top of it, she had been called in to see to a patient with presumed poisoning. She had not been able to save him, but, on the bright side, she had convinced Dr. Ambrose Allen to let her perform the autopsy, and she had booked a room for three days from now.
It was the closest date she’d managed to get as the weekend got in the way, and she hoped the traces of the presumed poison wouldn’t fade by then. She didn’t think so, but if there was magic involved…
She looked at her watch. It was two o’clock already of Halloween Morning, and, after tossing her things sloppily into her room, Fiddler tried to locate Severus to apologise to him… And maybe, if she had the courage, to ask him about the disturbing image that dwelled in her mind. There was no reason for her to think he’d be awake at that hour, but somehow, she just knew that he was, and where to find him.

In the library, reading one of her old pharmacology books, apparently lost in concentration. She stood at the door, watching him as he read, brows creased, lank hair falling over his face, legs extended and ankles casually crossed, a ceramic lamp next to him the only light in the room.
Darkness did suit him.

Deep down, Fiddler knew Severus Snape was hardly what one would call an attractive man; but there was something in the indolence of his pose that made her find him utterly devastating.
She sighed inwardly and cleared her throat.

“Severus? Can I talk to you?”

Severus closed the book on his lap and raised an eyebrow, as if he wasn’t surprised in the least by her being there at such extraordinary hour.

“I— Wanted to apologise for the… um… song”, Fiddler said. “I realised you weren’t pleased”.

“I told you to think nothing of it”, he said, dismissively. It felt odd, almost as if he was actually shooing Fiddler out of her own library.

“You did. But still, I felt I owed you an apologise”.

“It is accepted”.

Fiddler pressed her lips together, feeling rather awkward, and clasped her hands behind her back.

“I also wanted to ask you something”.

“Proceed”, he said tiredly.

Fiddler breathed in deeply.

“When we were listening to that song… I got an image”.

“Indeed?”, he inquired, scathingly.

“Indeed. It was… a rather disturbing image… going with a rather disturbing paragraph of the song. And it came from you”.

“How are you so sure, if may I ask?”

“I can fathom the origin of the images I see”, she assured him. “And although you were not the only one feeling awkard, you were the only one with rage burning inside at that exposure… But then… the bright crimson of rage went away… And I only saw a blonde little boy with frightened dark eyes… Surrounded by cloaked figures… He was crying… bleeding… Everything just bleeds… Do you—?”

But she didn’t finish her question, as Severus strode to her, deathly pale, glowing with anger, trembling with fury, blinded by pain. He grabbed Fiddler by her neck without thinking and threw her against the wall.

“How dare you?”, he hissed, dangerously low.

She bore in his eyes boldly, trying not to retreat at the murderous light in his eyes. She had hit something deep, and she wasn’t sure she’d manage to survive her audacity. For the first time in their acquaintance, Fiddler understood why Severus Snape was feared, why had he been a dark wizard, a Death Eater indeed.

“Let go of me”, she managed to say through his grip on her throat.

Severus looked down at his hand and let go of her suddenly, as she’d scorched him. He turned his back to her, breathing heavily, shoulders hunched, fists whitening at his sides. Fiddler’s own hand went to her neck then, automatically, to soothe the bruised skin, and she said, shakily:

“What was that all about?”

“Just a warning, so you will learn to exercise your unique talents more carefully”. He seemed beside himself, struggling very hard to get a grip.

Before Fiddler could say another word, he turned on his heels teathrically and faced her again, but swayed to his side and paled abruptly, covering his mouth with his hands.

For the love of God, what did you do to him?

He didn’t vomit, though, and Fiddler reached out her hand not sure of what she wanted to do with it, but Severus grabbed it rudely, gripping the side of the armchair he’d been sitting on with his other hand, so tight that his knuckles whitened. And then she felt it. Anger, pain and bile strangling his throat, impairing his breath, crushing him like a thousand stones.
Lucas…

Fiddler looked at him wonderingly, feeling her hand go numb. Lucas? She focused on the name, that stirred such a deep agony in the man before her, and closed her eyes, blending with the swirl of light and color, sinking in the rainbow of his thoughts, swimming through the waterfall of his deepest feelings…

And then…

Darkness.

~*~*~*~

“Ego, Severus Snape, capio vos ut meus uxor in obscurum, ut meus vinculum per eternus nex. Per is matrimonium permissum cruor sanctimonia subsisto”

Fiddler translated the words in her head, and shivered against her will.
I, Severus Snape, take you as my wife in darkness, as my bond with eternal death. Through this marriage let the purity of blood remain.

She was looking at a much younger Severus, not older than twenty, oddly raw and vulnerable. He was dressed in customary black, surrounded by cloaked figures, and holding a woman’s hand, his voice not faltering in the least as he spoke his vows.

Ego, Wynn Ludlow, recipero vos ut meus maritus, diligo in obscurum, vinco in nex. Permissum mihi exsisto dignus portans vestri cruor.

God be praised, Fiddler thought. What kind of nuptial vows were those?

I, Wynn Ludlow, accept you as my husband, lover in darkness, master in death. Let me be worthy of carrying your blood.

Severus’ Bride seemed rather bored with the whole ceremony, and she wore a supremely scornful look on her beautiful face.

I should have known, Fiddler thought bitterly.

And truth be told, Wynn Ludlow was a very alluring woman indeed. She had the face of an angel, delightfully framed by shiny locks of golden hair, and big ocean blue eyes, somewhat scathing, but with the undeniable spark of intelligence. Her skin was pale as marble, except for her rosy cheeks and full lips, and she stood there with the grace inherent to someone who knew she was dazzling and admired, and took advantage of it.

I wonder how that feels like, Fiddler thought. She felt the familiar pang of resigned pain stabbing her and wondered idly why couldn’t she look like that.

Because the world needs Ugly Ducklings to increase the self-esteeme of Swans, you twit, that’s why.

She sighed and watched the couple as they circled the dark altar, and heard the cloaked figures chant in unison: Nos testis is matrimonium, nos letifico in suum ieiunium, nos liceor lemma ut semino, nos liceor lemma protelo suum progenies in obscurum.

She shivered again. There was something unnerving in the uniformity of their chant, in the deep, malevolent voices that pronounced such words. We have witnessed this marriage, we delight on their hunger, we bid them to breed, we bid them to lead their descent into darkness.

Then, the image dissolved into a blur of color, but soon enough it was replaced by another. Fiddler was looking at Wynn again, wandering around a lounge of kilometric proportions, profusely decorated with valuable arcane symbols and various items of dark magic, amongst the expensive rugs, chandeliers, mirrors and furniture.
She walked dreamily towards a beautiful bassinette and picked up a small child. She held him to her chest and Fiddler smiled against her will. The little boy, no more than five or six months of age, was truly gorgeous, blonde and rosy as his mother, but with the dark, glittering eyes of Severus Snape.

Lucas.

“Good morning, Lucas”, she heard Wynn’s melodious voice. “Are you ready for Mother?”

The baby giggled, and Wynn, oddly enough, curled her lips up in a sneer.

“Then we might as well start”, she continued, “before your father”, no mistake there, Wynn had spat the word snidely, “finds out and tries to stop me”.

She walked to a hidden door and banished. Curious now, Fiddler pushed her mind a little farther and was able to follow Wynn and Lucas into a dark room, with cobwebs in the corners and a small alter full with rather unpleasant tools and symbols. It smelled oddly like humidity… and blood.
Wynn laid Lucas on the altar, his fair outfit and hair gleaming against all that blackness, and Fiddler watched him grab his feet with his hands and toy with them the way babies always did, as he laughed to himself happily, and she felt her bitter heart soften a little.
Who would have thought? He has a child! I wonder how old is he now…”

Fiddler focused on the scene before her, and what she saw left her breathless.

Wynn was holding up a jeweled athame and she lowered it deftly, inciding the baby’s soft skin. Blood came out immediately and Lucas cried in pain.

\"Permissum angelus cruor fulcio Suus vox”, Wynn chanted.

Fiddler widened her eyes in disbelief. Let the blood of the angel strenghten His power? Was that woman mad?

She probably was, as she practiced a few more well located cuts and gathered her son’s blood in a bowl of the purest white. She left the baby lying on the altar, bleeding and crying, as she mixed some herbs and pungent-smelling liquids in the bowl, muttering incantations with her mellow voice.

Some sort of maternal instinct Fiddler didn’t know she had suddenly awoke and made her want to reach out for Lucas, to hold him in her arms and soothe him…

Quite suddenly, the door sprang open and a younger but not any less furious Severus strode inside. The baby on the altar looked up at him, full of hope, and babbled.

“Da…Daaa…!”

“What do you think you are doing, Wynn?”, he bellowed, his eyes fixed on the child.

“What it must be done”, she replied, dreamily.

“And what, pray tell, could that be?”

Severus seemed to be fighting very hard to remain controlled.

He hates her, Fiddler thought, and rejoiced inwardly.

You’re unbelievable, you know that?

But Fiddler did not mind the mocking remark of her cynical self, as she heard Wynn’s voice again.

“You are aware, of course”, she said, as if explaining the mystery of life to a comatous oyster, “that our Lord has been informed of a certain prophecy, eavesdropped on a rather unsavory pub… and ever since, our Lord has been conducting some preparations to ensure his continued existence…”

Severus’ face blanched, and Fiddler watched his Adam’s apple go up and down his neck. Wynn grinned smugly.

“That is correct, my dear”, she stressed the endearment sarcastically, “I have been granted the honour of brewing the Eternus vita for our Lord”.

Fiddlerchedched Severus’ hands curl into fists and could almost feel the tautness of his body.

“You— You—”

“The blood of a wizarding child is needed. An angelical wizarding child, if possible”, she added derisively. “And you must agree Lucas is an angelical child… Despite of you being his father. And his blood is powerful enough to ensure a most efficacious Draught”.

She made it sound as if they were discussing the properties of a new and interesting plant.

How can she?, Fiddler thought, bewildered. He’s her son!”

And apparently, Severus’ thoughts were running along the same line, for he said, biting every word:

“He is a child, Wynn. Your child”.

“All the more a reason to use him”, she said dismissively. “You know the incantation… And you know perfectly well I only bore him for the sake of tradition… Now he will be of use for my Lord”.

Fiddler felt her jaw drop. Hear that! And I thought I was cruel!

“I will not have you harming my son in my own house”, Severus said, reaching for the bleeding baby in two long strides. He picked Lucas up from the altar as he cried “DAAA DAAAA!”, happily, and held him awkwardly, as if he didn’t know how, nor was he used to be so near the child.

“Leave him there, Severus”, Wynn ordered curtly. “Or I assure you our Lord shall hear about this”.

But Severus ignored her, and, holding his bleeding son almost fifteen inches away from him, walked out of the dark room without looking back.
He didn’t see Wynn’s expression.

But Fiddler did.

And her heart almost stopped.

~*~


Screams were heard, an utter pandemonium of despair and bewilderement.
Wynn’s cloaked form was running through the dark room’s door, with Lucas in her arms. She tossed him carelessly on the altar and grabbed her athame.

“Be quiet, Lucas, you will alert your Father”.

“Father”, Lucas repeated. He seemed to be around two years old now. His hair har darkened a little and Fiddler could see Severus’ own strong-minded expression in the baby’s face.

“FATHER!”, Lucas yelled, and Wynn turned her head guiltily as the door opened and three more cloaked figures stepped in.

“It cannot be done here, Madam Snape”, one of them said. “The whole ceremony must be carried on in order to ensure success”.

Wynn nodded hastily and moved to pick Lucas up.

“Will irk?”rk?”, stammered a small, stout man, nervous almost to the point of wetting himself.

“It will have to, Pettigrew, or we’re all dead”.

Pettigrew whimpered and Fiddler saw his sweat-drenched face blanche horribly. He smelled of guilt a mile away.

“But what happened?”, asked Wynn as the walked out of the house into the night.

“No one knows for sure”, the third man said with his trademark drawling voice. “The words are that our Lord went in search for the baby in the prophecy and his Killing curse bounced off. It hit him instead.”

“The Dark Lord… is dead?”, wailed Wynn.

“No, not dead, but barely alive”, the wind blew the man’s cloak away and meddled with his platinum blonde hair.

Lucius Malfoy, Fiddler thought.

“Hurry, Wynn, you must brew the potion to ensure our Lord’s survival”.

“We will need more blood than Lucas can provide”, Wynn told the men.

Fiddler snorted in her mind as she watched them stop dead. Where’s your loyalty now, boys?

“Yes… I cannot drain enough blood from Lucas if he is to remain alive. Unless I…”, but Wynn didn’t finish the sentence.


They reached a clearing in the woods surrounding the house, where a fire burned and a silver cauldron steamed above it. Hastily, Wynn produced a velvety bag from her robes and formed an inve pen pentacle around the fire with glittering stones, chanting under her breath. She then took out some herbs from the same bag and tossed them into the cauldron. Finally, she grabbed her athame, put it in her leather belt, and took hold of Lucas.

Do you think you can stop her, Fiddler?

Don’t be stupid, this is the past and it can’t be changed.

But she wanted to change it, for she knew all to well what Wynn was about to do with Lucas.

“Alica ut vinco rubrum oculi!”, Wynn cried.

A spell to the master of the red eyes, Fiddler translated.

“Permissum ille non esculentus ut proditus parvulus!”

Let him not succumb to the treacherous infant.

The air was crackling with power, and Fiddler reluctantly admitted to herself Wynn was a mighty witch indeed.

“Potare pro suus vita quod palma, ex cunabula ut capulus, tribuo ille eternus vita!”

A draught for his life and glory, from craddle to coffin, grant him eternal life.

She was stirring the cauldron wildly, holding Lucas against her chest with her free hand, wind blowing around them, as the cloaked figures watched them silently. The wolves where howling and more screams could be heard. It was indeed a demonic night. Fiddler saw some torches approaching them, but her hopes of someone stopping Wynn were feeble. At that very same instant she took the athame, held Lucas over the cauldron and perfomed a deep cut on the baby’s left leg. Blood dripped fro to to the cauldron and its contents hissed greedily.

\"Permissum angelus cruor fulcio Suus vox…”, Wynn said in a terrible voice, overriding the baby’s cries, wounding his flesh repeatedly in swift, heartless motions. “Permissum matris vitualamen ut tribuo vinco immortalis!”

Let the blood of the angel to strengthen his power, let the sacrifice of the mother give the Master immortality.

You know the incantation, Wynn had told Severus. Now Fiddler understood what she had meant.

A bloodcurdling scream torn the night.

“WYNN! NO!”

It was Severus. He was running desperately towards them, horror drawn all over his face, murder in his eyes as he ordered Wynn to stop.

“FATHER!”, Lucas cried, holding out his little arms as if trying to reach him.

Wynn’s eyes shone malevolently. The wind made her blonde hair and dark cloak swirl around her, as she pulled herself upto full height, drew in a deep breath and brought out a thunderous voice that made Severus stop in his tracks.

“Permissum crudus pater testis nex suus filius gratia Senior”.

Several things happened at the same time. Fiddler watched one of the cloaked men run to Severus, to restrain him, hitting him hard on his head and kicking him to the ground. Severus fell to his knees, bleeding from three different places, holding out his hands, screaming in denial; Wynn let the athame fall mercilessly over her bleeding son, and, as much as Fiddler tried to close her mental eyes not to see it, she screamed as well as the dagger slashed Lucas’ neck. Once the very last drop of blood fell into the cauldron, Wynn put the baby’s inert body on the grass and scooped a gobletful of the draught.

Out of the corner of her mental eye, Fiddler saw Severus surrender to merciful unconciousness.

“Quick”, Wynnd Mad Malfoy. “Take this to our Lord, and keep the cauldron safe. He must drink it for a whole lunar cycle in order to ensure his life. This first dose will only prevent him from dying”.

Malfoy nodded and ran back inside the house, followed by the other two, guarding the goblet as if it was the Holy Grial.

“I have done my task”, Wynn said, once alone, and for the first time her voice trembled. “I shall hope the master will be most pleased”.

She looked at her dead son next to the cauldron, and then, to her unconscious husband lying on the ground. She walked towards him.

“Severus”, she said, but whether she was going to apologize or explain herself Fiddler never knew, because a ray of green light came out of Severus’ wand, and Fiddler heard his voice, full of hatred, whisper deathly:

“Avada Kedavra”.

The Killing Curse.

Wynn died before she hit the ground, unmarked, unblemished, beautiful as Lucipher.


The final words of Wynn’s incantation echoed in Fiddler’s mind.

Let the Bleeder, his father, witness the death of his son for the sake of the lord.


She watched Severus get to his feet unsteadily, and walk towards the cauldron. She heard him mutter a curse, and some sparks came out of the tip of his wand. The cauldron hissed and Severus kicked it out of the flames, spreading its contents on the grass.
There was only one word in his head.

Dumbledore.

The wizard he’d been spying for ever since he first decided he didn’t want to be part of it anymore…
Ever since he had found out what Wynn was doing to Lucas in a regular basis.

Almost over a year now.

He ho goo go to Dumbledore, he thought, as he made sure that Voldemort would never drink the remainders of the potion, hearing hurried whispers and relieved laughters coming from houses nearby, where the first secret wizarding reunions where being held, where good, decent wizards all over the country were celebrating the Dark Lord’s downfall.

Not knowing what it had cost him.

And as Severus Snape buried his son, alone, uncomforted, he could hear the tremulous toasts coming from his neighbors’ houses...

“To Harry Potter— The Boy Who Lived!”






A/N.

TBC, please R & R!!!!!

Thanx a lot to my kind beta Ian for his BRILLIANT thoughts!!!

Disclaimer 1: I learned some latin when I was in high school but I think I\'ve forgotten most of it. So I deeply, deeply apologize if words are mispelled, miswritten (see, I am not even sure that\'s a word *LOL*), and mis... everything.
It sounds nice, though!


Disclaimer 2: All characters and HP universe belong to J.K. Rowling, except for the ones you don’t recognize. The plot as well is mine and solely mine!! No profit is beiade!ade!!!!