The Bitter Hug of Mortality | R | Chapter Two

[meh_forget_it]

Before this chapter starts, I'd just like to say that a) judging by reviews, this is totally not going to be what you expect and b) you need to just forget all your preconceptions about necromancers. In this, a necromancer is a whole different species. Literally. :)
Chapter Two

It was five thirty in the morning and Harry sleepily stumbled to turn on the ovens in the kitchen of his little bakery that his great aunt and guardian had left to him in her will two years previously. Harry had been a little sad when she'd died, but he'd soon perked up as he knew it wasn't like he'd never see or hear from her again. In fact, she was still as bossy as ever even in death.

Harry loved his little bakery, and sure it didn't have many customers in the small town - which was more a village, but according to Mr Shilatoh, had too large a population to be called one - of Little Hangleton. A town where pretty much everyone knew everyone else, and thankfully everyone loved the little bakery Harry owned. It probably helped that it was the only one in town but Harry like to think it was also his amazing baking skills.

Quickly putting in several different types of bread to bake, he'd made the dough the night before and left to temper, and then setting up everything on the side that he'd need to make all the cakes he would hopefully sell that day, Harry took a glance at the clock, obsidian beads tied in his hair clicking as he moved, and then slumped a little as the late night he'd foolishly had caught up with him.

"Told you that you should have gone to bed, daft beggar. Now, don't forget Mrs Lovage will be coming in today to discuss making her monthly cake for the WI meeting, so make sure you have some strawberry tarts ready for her to demolish."

"Yes, Aunty Sylv," Harry mumbled, quickly grabbing the hair band he kept by the sink and putting it on to keep his hair out of his face and out of the food, then putting a white sun cap on over that.

"I've told you that it should be black. It ruins the whole thing. You should only be wearing black! I swear, kids these days. Do you ever listen to me?"

"I always listen to you, Uncle Ignotus," Harry mumbled, carefully weighing out the ingredients he'd need to make the first batch of cupcakes.

If anyone was observing what was happening in the kitchen of the small and only bakery in Little Hangleton, they would have been both confused and probably a little disturbed, because Harry was alone and yet was seemingly having a conversation with someone only he could see.

Everyone in the small town was aware that Harry was odd, but then so were a lot of people in the town and no one had yet come to the heights of weirdness that an old family called the Gaunts had reached, so no one there really said anything about it. It helped that everyone liked the young man and felt slightly protective of him due to thinking he was possibly a little unhinged. His added disability also helped to endear him to the kinder-hearted samaritans of Little Hangleton.

Harry came across as completely helpless and harmless, at only five foot three with pale white skin that told anyone who met him that he didn't go out in the sun all too much. He had jet black hair that was cut into shoulder length bob reminiscent of the egyptians, that also had small obsidian beans knotted into randomly placed strands of hair. A hair style that was traditional for his kind according to Uncle Ignotus. He also always wore black clothing, another tradition apparently. All of this tied together with his soft spoken voice and his disability making him photophobic just made him all together unthreatening and seemingly screaming out for someone to look after him.

Of course, if you were to ask Harry's opinion, he'd laugh in your face - in a gentle, quiet way - and then carry on with his conversation with someone only he could see.

The truth of the matter was that Harry was far from defenceless and if people knew what he was, they'd be terrified of him. Which is why he was quite happy for anyone who met him to think he was a defenceless muggle baker.

He was, in fact, a necromancer. Someone who had death in their veins according to Uncle Antioch, though Harry always thought that man was a little too dramatic for his own good. Really, his demise shouldn't have shocked anyone.

"Make sure you put that in the freezer for a few minutes before adding the orange juice. You know it makes a better pastry that way,"

"Aunty Sylv, I've been doing this for the last four years. I graduated from culinary school two years early! Come on, can't you trust me just a little?"

"No. Besides, you cheated." Harry sighed at the blunt answer from his very blunt aunt and her observation. He hadn't cheated, he'd just… asked for help. Admittedly, the help was from dead professors, teachers and chefs, but it was just the same as asking for help from the living. And sure he loved her, but he wondered how he had ever survived being raised by someone who didn't hold their punches.

The next two hours passed fairly smoothly as Harry baked everything he would need for that day, shamelessly using the advantage of speaking with the dead and thus the departed relatives of anyone who might be visiting that day to make sure that he had their favourites on display, and eventually, as it turned eight in the morning, Harry unlocked the front doors and took a seat behind the counter, absently listening to the chatter of the dead, and chuckling occasionally when someone said something amusing.

As the morning passed, the regulars that Harry had been expecting slowly trickled in at random intervals, each one telling him different bits of gossip that they'd overheard and being overjoyed when Harry told them his own pieces of gossip he'd overheard - admittedly from dead people - and then Mrs Lovage came in with her extravagant bright purple hat that had a possibly real dead animal wrapped around it. What animal it was, Harry couldn't tell you, but it was certainly fascinating and Harry found it hard to take his eyes away from it whenever she entered the shop.

"Hello, Mrs Lovage! I made some strawberry tarts today thinking of you, it must be fate! I used fresh strawberries from my garden picked early this morning! Would you like one?" Harry asked her cheerfully as soon as she walked in the door.

"Oh, Harry, you are a dear. I'll take one and a nice cup of milky tea, then we can discuss what cake I'd like you to make for me this month if that's okay?" Mrs Lovage asked him with a wide smile that showed Harry her pink lipstick stained teeth - teeth he was pretty sure weren't real but Mr Lovage refused to actually say for fear Mrs Lovage would find out when she died and make his afterlife a living hell… so to speak.

"Don't forget to use soya milk. I love her dearly, but there was many a night I wished we had separate beds when she'd had cows milk. Harry felt his lips twitching in amusement as he quickly turned his back on Mrs Lovage to make her tea.

"I'll just have your tea ready in a minute. If you'd like to take a seat at your regular table, I'll be over with the tea and tart then we can discuss ideas you've had," Harry told her with a quick glance over his shoulder. Mrs Lovage just sent him another wide smile and a nod, then walked over to her regular table - which was really only one of two small tables that he had in the store front. He also had another similar table in the back that he placed outside on sunny summer days when he could be bothered. Most of the time he couldn't be bothered though.

He quickly and efficiently made Mrs Lovage's milky tea - which was just regular darjeeling tea with copious amounts of milk. In fact Harry pretty much just scared the hot water and milk with the thought of a tea bag for all that he used one - and then plated up a strawberry tart before he carried both the tea and the tart over to Mrs Lovage and placed them down in front of her before taking the other seat at the other side of the small round metal table.

"So, do you have any ideas for what kind of cake you'd like this month?" Harry asked once she'd taken a sip of her tea and a bite of the tart.

"Well, I thought, given it's raspberry season, that it should have some fresh raspberries in it. Other than that, I don't have a clue," Mrs Lovage told him before returning to her tart and promptly demolishing it in a manner that was both terrifying for any watching cake and yet impressively polite.

"I do have a nice batch of raspberries growing in the garden, though I am regretting planting the bloody thing given it's slowly taking over the bottom of my garden. Thankfully I didn't have the bright idea to plant some blackberry bushes as well, or I wouldn't have a garden left. Still, I suppose I could think of something to make with fresh raspberries as the focus point. When would you need it by?"

"Monday, if that's okay with you?"

"That'll be fine! So, anything new with you? Did you hear that Mrs Baker's daughter gave birth to a little boy last week? Apparently she'll be bringing him down for her mother to see when she's recovered a bit more," Harry told her, sitting back in his seat as Mrs Lovage perked up at the gossip Harry was always happy to part with.

"Oh really? That's lovely! Though I swear that poor girl was pregnant for twelve months. It seemed quite a while ago that Betty told me about her daughter being pregnant. Oh! That reminds me, apparently someone's moved into the old Riddle Manor! Shocking stuff that happened up there! I can't believe old Frank was a suspect for their murder! And then the poor man died of a heart attack about eight years ago. Terrible business."

"Bloody heart attack?! Weren't a bloody heart attack! That monster killed me with his freaky magic spells! Bloody magic! No one told me I had to be wary of bloody magic!"

"Really? Do you know who it is that's bought the manor? I thought it still belonged to the family," Harry added musingly, recalling speaking to one of the Riddle's that had lived up there before the messy business with the Gaunts happened.

"Damned right it belongs to the family! Not that there is any family left! I refuse to accept that monster into my family! Knew those Gaunts were a shady lot! Bewitching my son into impregnating her!" Really Harry would rather be left out of family affairs, but he did silently admit it gave good gossip.

"Well, that's the scandal! Apparently it's the grandson of young Tom Riddle and that Gaunt girl! I remember her when I was a girl, shocking business! Well anyway, apparently when they ran off together, he actually got her pregnant! Imagine! So no one knows what happened with the son, but now the grandson, called Marvel or Marvin or something like that, he's showed up out of nowhere and claimed the family fortune! Now he's moved into the manor with several servants and is building the whole place up! I haven't seen him mind, but Lucy - you know Lucy, don't you? Lovely thing, looks like a stiff wind will blow her over! Married a great brute of a man. Surprised he didn't break her when they consummated their marriage! - Anyway, she claims he's quite the handsome man. Not that you can take her word for it, she does find her own husband handsome after all," Mrs Lovage added, much to Harry amusement.

"You know who she's talking about, don't you? He's rather famous in the other world."

"I think you mean infamous, brother mine." Harry withheld a sigh when Antioch and Ignotus started bickering and turned his attention back to Mrs Lovage.

"Would you like another tart, Mrs Lovage? And I'm sure Mr Riddle will find his way into my bakery at some point in the near future, everyone always does. So when that happens I'll make sure to take note of how he looks and tell you what I think," Harry added with a small smile.

"Oh would you? That's brilliant! And yes, I think I will have another tart. You do make the best! Now, tell me, anything new in your life? Found anyone to share that lovely little cottage with finally?" Mrs Lovage asked him as he quickly made his way back behind the counter to get her second tart of the day, and hopefully not last.

"No no, you know me, heading for permanent bachelor status. I don't think there are many who would really want to put up with me," Harry said with a small smile and a shrug, silently adding that there weren't many he would be willing to put up with either. He generally preferred talking with the dead than the living.

"Oh now, don't be putting yourself down! You've just got a few hurdles in life that you've got to conquer! Doesn't make you any less of a catch! Besides, those glasses and dark look you've got are very in right now, apparently. I bet there are lots of young girls out there that would find you just delicious!" Mrs Lovage told him, making a small happy sound when he placed a new tart in front of her.

"Hmm, maybe."

"One day she's going to realise you're as bent as a nine bob note." Harry grinned at his aunt's words and glanced out of the window to see two more possible customers heading his way from different directions and quickly standing up from the table.

"Looks like Mr Thomason is coming in for his daily cake, I'd better get back to doing my job! Can't spend all day gossiping after all!" Harry told her with a smile when she glanced at him questioningly.

"Oh, you can't? Could have fooled me with the way you carry on. Don't forget Thomason likes Elephant feet, so make sure you've got a couple of those to tempt him with." Harry sighed and gave a small nod in acknowledgement to his aunt's whispers and checked to make sure he did indeed have an elephants foot - a large round choux pastry bun filled with sweetened whipped cream and topped with a gooey caramel sauce - in the display before wiping away a few stray crumbs and generally just making himself look busy behind the counter while he waited for his next customer to come in.

It wasn't a long wait before Mr Thomason entered the shop, bell above the door ringing cheerfully to announce his entrance as the man himself gave a quiet greeting to Mrs Lovage before making his way to the counter where Harry waited for him.

"Hello, young Harold!" Harry just smiled weakly, he'd long since given up on telling the man that his name wasn't a short version of Harold.

"Hello, Mr Thomason! What do you fancy today? I made some elephant feet this morning, if they take your fancy!" Harry said, motioning towards said treat though knowing Mr Thomason, he knew it'd take at least five minutes before the man finally made up his mind.

"Hmm, maybe, Harold. Maybe. I'll just have a look though, just in case something else takes me fancy."

"That's fine, Mr Thomason. How's your grandson? He's just coming to the end of his first year at university, isn't he?"

"You know he's going to pick the elephant foot, why does he even bother pretending to look at anything else? He was like this as a child, you know. Drove me insane! Takes after his father. It's the Thomason blood that does it. Our son and grandson are the same. My mother warned me that Thomason blood was shifty." Harry just rolled his eyes and quickly took a mental tally of anything he may need to restock - which was nothing - and then returned to leaning against the counter and feigning patience.

"Robert? He's doing fine! He'll be coming up here for a visit in the summer holidays, get him away from the influence of those southerners. Don't know what he was thinking going to London of all places!"

"I know, terrible decision. Full of Londoners," Harry agreed with a nod, not actually having anything against Londoners himself, not that he'd actually met any. Well, none living at least.

"Right, I'll have an elephants foot, I think. Actually, let's make it two."

"Okay! Would you like them boxed or just in a bag?" Harry asked, wondering why he was giving the man a choice.

"Oh well… put them in a box, I think. Knowing me, I'll squash them if I take them in a bag," Mr Thomason told him with a nod, everyone in the shop looking up and over to the door when the bell rang once again and two young men about the same age as Harry walked in. Harry stared at them and then at Mr Thomason, who gave a discreet shrug. Clearly the were new then because Harry had no clue who they were.

"Oh he's definitely a Malfoy, that pasty looking blond one. Don't know who the other would be. From a family after my time. Looks a bit rodent like to me. Shifty looking eyes. Want me to taste his soul?"

"No," Harry hissed quietly, Mr Thomason not even batting an eye at Harry speaking to himself, showing just how often it happened. Really though, it was like Uncle Antioch didn't trust that Harry could taste the ratty looking boys soul himself, not that he would, it gave him terrible heartburn for some reason. "Hello! Welcome to Sylvia's Sweet Treats, how may I help you today?"

Harry watched as the pair of wizards - they were so clearly wizards that it wouldn't have been any more obvious if they'd carried a sign, really, who wore those shoes with that top? - Glanced at him and then at the selection of cakes and sandwiches on display. Whilst they were looking, Harry quickly boxed up two elephant feet and passed them over the counter to Mr Thomason.

"That'll be two pounds and ten pence then please, Mr Thomason!" Harry added as Mr Thomason dug the money out of his wallet and handed the right amount over. "Thank you! You'll have to let me know what your grandson likes so I can have some ready when he comes to visit."

"I can tell you what he likes! Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I'm obsolete! Don't ignore me, boy!" Harry just rolled his eyes and smiled at Mr Thomason absently.

"I'll be sure to let you know in time, don't you worry! Take care of yourself on the way home tonight, Harold! Don't want you having a funny turn with no one around to help you, do we?" Mr Thomason said as his usual departing comment before he left the shop, leaving Harry with Mrs Lovage - who was not so discreetly checking out the two wizards in the shop - and said two wizards, who looked more out of place than a whore in a nunnery. Actually, that reminded him that he hadn't seen Delilah for a while.

"Mrs Lovage, have you spoken to Delilah recently? Last I spoke to her business was a bit dry, but that was over a week ago," Harry added with a small frown, glancing at the two wizards and wondering just what it was they were doing in there if they weren't going to buy something.

"Mr Moore hired her a couple of days ago, said she was thinking about moving to Great Hangleton! Imagine! Moving there!"

"Better than moving to York or somewhere even further away. I'd imagine she'd get a few more clients in a bigger town."

"Still, we look after our own here! Who knows what would happen to her over there!"

"Excuse me! Oi! You! Blind boy!" Harry blinked and realised the rude blond - "Definitely a Malfoy. Nasty lot. Nice to see they haven't changed with all the inbreeding." - was talking to him.

"I'm not blind. How may I help you?" Harry added with an overly polite tone and a spaced out smile, making the two wizards look at him like he was insane - not the first time he'd had that look sent his way.

"Right. I want a summer fruit tartlet and my friend wants a cream bun. Get them for us." Harry just stared at him for a minute before he shook his head and went about getting the cakes they had demanded, not even bothering offering them a bag. The way they carried themselves, they would expect a box.

"Ask him the name of the ratty fellow next to him! It's driving me mad not knowing! He looks a little like a Prewett, but I've never known a Prewett to stand next to a Malfoy without cursing them first."

"Can't say I blame them," Harry muttered, carefully placing the cream bun next to the tartlet and then efficiently closing the box and tying it closed with some ribbon.

"Did you say something?!"

"Here's your order, sir. That'll be one pound sixty, please," Harry said, placing the box on the counter and holding out his hand for the money.

"What? Don't you take galleons? What kind of place is this? Nott, pay the man!"

"A Nott?! Good lord, they were a muggle-bred family in my time. They've actually managed to make it to pureblood status? What is the world coming to. Thank Death we died! Now, kick the pompous little shit out and tell him you don't want any of his disgraceful wizard money. Who does he think he is? You're a Peverell, you don't need to take any of his Gallic shit!"

"Perhaps you should go exchange your money for proper currency. I believe a place called Gringotts will aide you there," Harry calmly pointed out, grinning when Ignotus gave a small cheer before telling him to physically kick the Malfoy brat out.

"How dare you tell me what to do! My father will hear about this! Nott, let's go! Filthy muggles. Don't know what we were thinking coming down here," Malfoy muttered stomping his way out of the shop with nott quickly following behind him.

"Well, wasn't he a pleasant young man?" Mrs Lovage said sarcastically, before she stood up from the table, brushing any stray crumbs from her impressive bust and made her way over to the counter. "Now, how much do I owe you?"

"That'll be three pounds for the two tarts then, please! Tea is on the house as usual!" Harry told her with a bright smile, taking the money she handed him and putting it in his till.

"Thank you, Harry. Don't you let that rude young man get to you though! I know his sort, privileged, stuck up little snot. Don't you make any mind on what he said!" Mrs Lovage told him with a stern frown on her face.

"I won't, Mrs Lovage, don't worry. I'll let you know what I come up with for your cake when you're next in, okay?'

"That'll be fine. I'll see you in a day or two! Take care of yourself!" And with that Mrs Lovage left the shop and left Harry to his thoughts.

"Thought the Malfoy's would have bred themselves out by now. Seems we're not that fortunate. If he bothers you again, I'm sure we could come up with a suitable ritual that would deter him from bothering us again."

"Us, Uncle Antioch? Surely it's just me he'd be bothering. Besides, you know we shouldn't use rituals on that kind. He wouldn't be impressed if we brought their attention back to necromancers once more."

"I don't know, there must be a reason He allowed you to have the blood of a Peverell. Maybe He thinks it's time for necromancers to make a come back."

"I'm the only one left!" Harry exclaimed, making his way into the kitchen and deciding to make himself a lettuce and tomato sandwich.

"You know, I still don't know what your aversion to meat is." Harry just rolled his eyes at his aunt's words, grinning when Cadmus made himself known and saving him from answering.

"We've told you this already, you batty old hag! Everything dead that our kind touches may come back to life. How would you feel knowing that a simple ham sandwich might start flinching in pain and bleeding just as you're about to take a bite?"

"Yes, yes. I just think you're being nesh."

"Nesh?! I'll give you nesh!" Harry just rolled his eyes are his aunt and Cadmus, before making his way back to the front, taking his sandwich with him and taking a seat on the bar stool he had by the till.

"Have they finished arguing yet?" Harry asked absently into the air as he took a bite of his sandwich.

"Your aunt won't ever admit when she's wrong and Cadmus dislikes anyone telling him he's wrong. It'll be a while before they stop arguing."

"Ah, so whilst it's quiet before the late afternoon rush, any hints on who might be coming in and what they'd want? And does anyone have any idea of who might be thinking of coming in tomorrow, so I can have a head start."

"I imagine Gerald will be stopping by after work to get some bread. It's been a couple of days since he bought some. Oh, and I bet a handful of kids from St Margarets Secondary and Little Hangleton Community School will stop by after school to get their daily sugar intake before going home."

"Hmm, I think I've got enough cupcakes made for the school kids. And I made some bread this morning. Any ideas on what to make for Mrs Lovage's WI meeting…?" Harry trailed off when the bell rang and a tall, handsome man with dark brown, almost black hair and blue green eyes walked in with a regal air about him. "Afternoon, welcome to Sylvia's Sweet Treats."

"Dark Lord! Be careful around him! Don't give anything away! Don't let him know you're a Potter! Don't you dare die on us now, Boy!" Harry almost winced at the shrill tone Ignotus's voice took when the man stood in front of them.

"Afternoon. I am assuming this is the shop two sons of my employees were complaining about."

"A blond and a brunet? Yes, this was probably the place. No idea what I did to upset them other than tell them that they had the wrong currency," Harry told the man with a shrug, discreetly eyeing the man and trying to work out how he could possibly be the feared Dark Lord.

Harry was well aware of what was going on in the Wizarding world, he had been since he had been taken out of it. As much as Lily had tried to stay in touch with him, Harry had been aware that eventually something would happen that would 'magically' remove him from her thoughts and memories. When he was fifteen, his thoughts had come to pass and the weekly letters from his mother had come to a stop. However, Harry had other ways of getting news on what was happening. After all, wizards and witches died just the same as muggles, and when one was dead, they didn't much care who they were talking to as long as they got the chance. Or at least, that was what Harry thought.

So really, Harry was well aware that his older brother had been entered into a wizard tournament and then kidnapped, where he was used in a ritual to resurrect the Dark Lord - not that it was a true resurrection, he wasn't dead after all - when Harry was fourteen. He was also aware that the reign of terror hadn't quite happened the way most had expected and that Dumbledore had his fingers in more destructive pies than the Dark Lord did. Of course, this didn't mean the Dark Lord was a nice man and Harry certainly would have been happier not having the murderous man in his shop at this current moment in time.

"Yes, sadly neither one takes after their father in the intelligence stakes. Shame really. I only keep them around because their fathers are so useful."

"Ah, nepotism. Always nice to see still around. Not that I can talk of course, I did, after all, inherit this place from my aunt. Now, may I help you with anything other than commiserating on your current employees?" Harry asked, flinching a little when Ignotus yelled at him for making friendly with a Dark Lord. Not that Harry knew what Ignotus actually expected him to do that wouldn't get him killed.

"Thank you for your commiserations then. I'm Marvolo Riddle, by the way. I moved into the old Riddle Manor just outside of town."

"I wonder if he knows he's named after the most insane man to ever have lived in Little Hangleton."

"Oh! Yes, I know where you're talking about. Riddle Manor is well known around here. Is it true that it's haunted? Sorry. Not my business. Oh! I'm Harry, by the way. Well, technically my full name is Horatio because according to Uncle Antioch, Harry is far too common. Even though I pointed out that one of the crown princes was called Harry and it seemed to be good enough for him, though I guess that is short for Henry. Oh well, I prefer Harry. How may I help you again? Sorry for rambling! They're always telling me that I ramble too much."

"Which you're still doing. What are you telling him your full name for?! And why did you mention Antioch?! Does that sound like a muggle name, you idiot?!"

"Yes, yes, right. Sorry. Seriously though, can I help you in any way?" Harry asked, ignoring Ignotus' scolding and Marvolo's bemused stare which became even more confused when Harry absently batted at the air next to him.

"Well, I did come in to make sure that my idiot employees sons hadn't insulted you too badly, but now that I'm here, I would also quite like to buy a couple of eclairs. They're a secret weakness of mine and yours look delicious," Marvolo added, not noticing Harry staring at him in shock before he shook his head and quickly set up a box to place them inside.

"Right, well I hand bake everything you see here, so I'll take that as a compliment. And your weakness shall stay a secret with me of course! Hopefully they taste as good as they look!" Harry added with a bright smile, absently batting at the air beside him before he tied the box shut and placed it on the counter. "That'll be a pound please!"

"I can't believe the big bad Dark Lord has a hankering for eclairs. You could lace the cream with poison," Cadmus whispered in his ear, apparently having finished arguing with Aunty Sylv.

"No, not a good idea." Harry muttered as he took the pound from Marvolo and put it in the till, head shooting up to look at Marvolo when the man cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"I don't wish to be rude, but I was just wondering, why are you wearing sunglasses inside? You just… remind me of someone I met many years ago and I never knew why he wore sunglasses inside either. Never got a chance to ask him."

"He's talking about you, you know. You're too young to remember, but we were there when he tried to kill your older brother. He could sense the power in you back then. Thank Death you're better at masking it now."

"Oh, well I don't know about the other person you met, but I was born with aniridia, which means I don't have irises. So my pupils can't contract in bright light so it hurts my eyes. Other than that though it doesn't affect me at all."

"Except giving you the ability to see souls of the departed you mean? Probably best not to tell him that part though. Would give away the fact you're not a muggle."

"Really? I suppose that also explains why your windows don't seem to let as much light in as they should given how large they are. Well, thank you for telling me and for the eclairs. If they're as good as I hope they are, then I shall recommend this bakery to my employees."

"Please do! And um… maybe let them know that I only accept pound sterling. I don't mean to be a bother, but well they'll find that most of the shops here don't accept any other currency. I mean, some people have tried to fob off a couple of euros on us, but we're not Ireland, you know?" Harry added with a laugh that possibly came out a little more strained than he had hoped, but really, the Dark Lord and overall hater of those with no magic was currently standing in his delightfully muggle bakery. It was enough to make anyone anxious.

"I'll make sure to let them know. Thank you for your service, Horatio." And with that, the Dark Lord - or Marvolo, apparently - left the shop before Harry could even think to tell him not to call him Horatio. He only ever let the Peverell's get away with that and that was only because he couldn't be bother to summon to energy so his punches actually hit their spiritual bodies.

"You know, Marvolo senior wasn't so bad. Okay, he was as mad as a box of frogs, but he did have some valid points. I mean, he was framed, so clearly someone was out to get him. Plus, his son was way crazier than he was."

"Yes, someone was out to get him. You just met him. And sold him an eclair. You know, I lived until I was forty-five and was an accomplished necromancer who could claim to have met Death on multiple occasions… And yet my life wasn't nearly as bizarre as yours has been."

"I'm just going to take that as a compliment. Now, I think I need to buy a new hat, don't you? Oh, and didn't you say it was time I made a new bead?"

"Make sure the hat is black this time. And how many times do we have to tell you, it's not a bead! It's a physical manifestation of your spiritual energy!"

"Right! And it physically manifested into a bead. Do you think maybe we should just close up shop and disappear? It can't be healthy living in the same town as a Dark Lord. Especially one who hates muggles and currently believes I am a muggle."

"Better hope he lives by the rule of not shitting where you eat. Or in his case, not killing muggles where you live, sleep and eat in the hopes that the muggles don't get a clue and turn on you. Don't you even think about selling my bakery!"

"Technically it's mine now."

"And technically me being dead won't stop me hurting you if you sell it."

"Fine fine. It was just a suggestion. Besides, maybe living near the headquarters of evil central will make this sleepy little town a bit more interesting. Put it on the map, so to speak."

"Well, either that or we're all going to be the first place the British government drops an A bomb on." And with that delightful scenario put in his head by Frank, Harry went back to finishing his rather tasteless sandwich. On the bright side, it didn't come to life in his hands and traumatise him for life.

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A/N - At this point in writing this, I should possibly take a moment to tell you that I have no idea where I'm going with this. It's safe to say I'm currently winging it. Though I do have a kind of vague idea of what I want to happen.

Those that reviewed to ask about the Potters, well you'll slowly find out more about them as the chapters go on. Including what exactly happened to stop Lily from getting in touch with him. And yes, eventually, you'll find out what Charlus, Rose and Dahlia (his siblings, if you've forgotten) believe about Harry. You'll just need a little patience. :)

Oh, and speaking of reviews, if you have questions you would like me to answer, then please leave me a way to actually reply. I really don't like those fics that add to half the word count just by answering reviews. Really annoying. That being said, someone in an anonymous review did ask about James, and how it would be unlikely he'd treat his son that way. Personally, I don't think James was that bad. He is a pureblood and they're raised to look down on squibs, plus it's well known that squibs tend to be given away or killed. James just knew that Harry wouldn't be staying with them so he distanced himself from his son so it wouldn't hurt so much when the time to give him away came. James was right, how cruel would it have been to force a magicless child to live in a world full of magic he couldn't use? So don't hate James too much. Also, it was stated in the prologue that the real truth about the Peverell's was lost/erased, so why would James be special and know about them? Even in canon, the Peverell Brothers were seen as a myth or a fairy tale, so it would be a bit weird if James suddenly started going on that he knew the impossible. So yeah, that is why James didn't know about the connection to the Peverell's and Harry's abilities.

Hope that answered your questions, and if you do review anonymously with questions in future, sorry, but they won't be answered.