A/N: Thanks for all of your reviews, especially the ones that raised some good ideas and points.

I'll try to include more training scenes, but to be honest, I hate them. I really, really hate them. Perhaps it's a by-product of reading a thousand Post-OOTP stories where Harry gets a timeturner and spends the next twenty chapters doing nothing but training. I try to include a few scenes where we see that Harry has learnt something, but that's as far as I can do them.

The first thing Harry felt as he slowly drifted back into consciousness was warmth. He was lying somewhere that was both warm and extremely comfortable. He murmured something sleepily, rolling over in the bed and attempting to shift the covers above him. He frowned, his eyes still closed and tugged at his hand. There was something cold and metallic clasped around it. It was at this time that Harry noticed two things. First, the memories of the fight with the insane Denarian and the Knights rushed back into his mind like a flashing blur of colours and sounds, and his eyes shot open as he shot up from the bed. Secondly, to him, the world had never smelled more beautiful. His sharp green eyes flickered first to his arm as he noticed a pair of steel handcuffs had bound him to the metal bed posts, then around the room as he took in his surroundings. He was lying on a small but comfortable bed, pale-blue sheets covering his body. The door was open and the walls were painted in a bright, yellow colour, which seemed to glow as sunlight beamed in through the window, bright, blue sky clearly visible.

He frowned in confusion as he used his free hand to lift up the covers. He had been undressed and was now wearing a pair of old, faded pyjamas. When Harry lifted the up his top, he saw that a bandage, stained with small droplets of blood, had been carefully wrapped around his chest where he had been stabbed. He dropped the covers and frowned, breathing in the fresh air as he puzzled about what was different.

“Meciel, what do you think?” He asked out loud, his voice wary as he glanced at the open door again.

There was no answer from within him and Harry frowned, partially closing his eyes as he reached out with his mind, seeking the unused parts of his brain where Meciel usually resided. A sudden wave of roaring shock ran through him as he found nothing, no warm glow that usually indicated her presence, no searing heat that indicated her powers, and he suddenly realised why the air smell so fresh. The bitter, acrid smell of sulphur that had accompanied him everywhere, to which he had adapted so he could barely notice it anymore, was completely gone and with it was Meciel's presence.

With trembling hands, panic flowing through him and his cheek pale with shock, Harry almost ripped off the pyjama top as he fumbled around for his necklace, the one with Meciel's coin bound to it. But the necklace was gone. The coin was gone. Meciel was gone and Harry suddenly felt very alone and very afraid as he closed the covers around him, eyeing the door with a mixture of panic. He was all alone and obviously a captive of the Knights of the Cross. Meciel had told him that their order had been founded to destroy the Denarians and Harry wondered with a spike of fear if he was being held for an execution.

“Hey! Where the hell am I?” Harry yelled out, his eyes wide with emotion as he tugged at the handcuffs again. He closed his eyes, desperately trying to feel for any shreds of power that he could use to free himself, but he found nothing. With Meciel gone, Harry was once again weak and defenceless. Hell, he couldn't even use his wand-magic because he didn't have a wand with him!

“Hey! Let me go!” He shouted again, panicked anger increasing the pitch of his voice. He gave one last tug at the cuffs, straining with all of his effort as he tried to squeeze his hand through it. Pain shot up his wrist as he pulled until Harry stopped it, a gasp of pain and exhaustion escaping him, and he flopped back onto the bed. He closed his eyes, beating away the tears that welled there and let out a soft sigh, trying to compose his emotions. Suddenly he heard small and light footsteps walking up the corridor and his eyes swung to the door as a young girl cautiously entered the room.

The first thing Harry noticed was the gleaming wand that was being pointed at him. The girl eyed him uncertainly and she held her wand awkwardly, as if she wasn't used to holding one. She seemed to be about his age, with long, blonde hair tied back into a ponytail and light grey eyes, which watched him with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness.

“You're awake then,” The girl said, her grey eyes focussing on the handcuffs that bound him to the bedpost.

“Wow,” Harry deadpanned, preferring sarcasm to panic as he tried to clear his mind of his emotions. “You're an observant one, aren't you?”

The girl didn't say anything, looking at him curiously. Harry cocked his eyebrows as her eyes roamed over him carefully; an open and curious look on her face.

“You're like me,” She said slowly. “You're a witch.”

“Wizard,” Harry interjected scornfully.

“You use a wand,” The girl continued. At Harry's' blink of surprise, she elaborated, her wand never leaving his form, although Harry personally thought that she probably wouldn't be able to do much with it. “We found it on you, you see.”

“Well, then I can see how you might think that I'm a wand-wizard then.” Harry said, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he began to relax an inch. The girl, while wielding a wand, didn't seem to be too dangerous and wasn't likely to start torturing him at any moments notice. “Given that you found my wand.”

The girl ignored his sarcasm as she looked over him again, a puzzled frown coming to her face.

“You don't look like an evil demon,” She said, bewilderment in her voice. “You look like a normal kid.”

“And you don't look like a smart girl,” Harry said bluntly, annoyance coming over his face as he waved his left hand at her in a dismissive manner. “So why don't you leave and go and get the bastard who stabbed me! Go on, go!”

The girl first looked startled and then annoyed at his attitude, but she backed out of the room, leaving Harry to his thoughts. He tugged at the cuffs again and gave a huff of frustration as they remained firmly attached to the bedposts. It was only a few moments later that more footsteps stomped up the corridor and Harry braced himself, readying himself for a confrontation with the man who had stabbed him. But the person who walked through the door was a tall, silken-blonde and beautiful woman with a severe frown on her face. For a human, Harry privately admitted that she was quite beautiful, although not as attractive as Meciel or Maeve. Her features strongly resembled the young girl that had been in the room a minute ago and she carried herself with a sense of strength.

Harry opened his mouth, ready to let out a cutting and sarcastic remark, but the woman interrupted him, folding her arms as she regarded him with a cold, chilly stare.

“My name is Charity and I don't want you here,” said the woman, her voice even.

Harry started in surprise, staring at the woman with surprise.

“Well, good,” He said slowly. “I don't want to be here. Just give me back my stuff and I'll get out of your hair.

Charity ignored him, her eyes shining with wariness as she continued.

“But my husband is a good man, decent man, and his conscience would not allow him to leave a child to die,” The woman said, her eyes softening, a loving smile coming over her face. “Usually special elements of the Church take care of somebody who's been abused by the Fallen like you were. But Michael insisted that you stay here and recover. He feels very guilty about what happened to you.”

“Was he the guy who stabbed me?” Harry asked, absently smoothing the covers over his chest, his fingers lingering where the bandage was. “Because that really hurt!”

“No,” Charity shook her head, her hair swaying behind her back. “That was Sanya.”

“Ah, the Russian,” Harry murmured as something Meciel had told him flashed into his mind. A flicker of a smile curved his lips. “He used to be a host, didn't he? He rejected the coin.”

Charity nodded, her eyes narrowing as Harry's face twisted with scorn, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“What an idiot,” He said in derision. He blinked, frowning as something occurred to him. “Unless he had picked the coin of one of the really bad Fallen.”

“Bad Fallen?” Charity echoed, staring at Harry with a strange expression.

“Yeah, insane and all that,” Harry answered. “Kinda like that guy I was fighting…er….what happened to him anyway?”

“He died,” Charity said faintly.

“Good,” Harry said, a flare of satisfaction twisting in his gut. “I hope he suffered.”

Charity stared at him as dawning comprehension came over her face and she took a step backwards, staring at him with a hint of coldness and surprise.

“You weren't enslaved, were you?” She asked in disbelief. “You picked up the coin by your own free will, didn't you?”

“Of course I did,” Harry said, snorting at Charity's dismayed expression and surprise. “Meciel is the only one who cares for me in the shit hole of a world.”

“My husband thought that by removing the coin, you would be free of the demons presence,” Charity said, her voice hardening as she gazed at Harry with a mixture of disgust and wariness. “You can't free somebody who likes their prison,” Harry said quietly, before he gestured to the handcuffs binding him to the bedposts. “You can free them if they're handcuffed to the bed though.”

Charity smiled tightly and silently shook her head to Harry's request. He frowned and tried again, his expression clearing and smiling the picture of a child's innocence.

“What can I do?” He asked lightly. “I have no weapons, no wand, and no power.”

Charity's face remained like carved marble; she clearly wasn't buying it and Harry sighed, his arms falling to the bed.

“So, what are you going to do with me now?” He asked bluntly, staring at Charity coldly as bitterness and resentment clouded his voice. “Because if it's an execution, then I want a fucking spectacular last meal.”

“My husband will deal with you when he returns,” Charity said, her voice hard and cold.

“He's not here?” Harry asked, blinking in surprise.

“He's currently out on a business appointment,” Charity said and Harry could have sworn that he had heard a deep tone of worry and fear.

“Ah,” Harry said with something like understanding. The Knight was probably out hunting down other Denarians like himself. Not that Harry cared, he knew that most Denarians had a grudge against Meciel and the more that the Knights killed then the safer he was going to be. Besides, with the Knight gone, not all was lost and perhaps he could find a way to escape.

He looked up as Charity turned around, walking for the door, and called out, his voice still bitter with resentment and sulkiness.

“If you're going to chain me up like a wild animal, could you at least feed me like one?” He said sourly. “Because I'm starving and I didn't get to eat my dinner.”

“I'm sure I can arrange something,” Charity said, somewhat coldly as she left the room.

Harry made an ugly face at her retreating back and settled back down into the bed, his thoughts racing. Although his face seemed calm, it didn't show the panic that he really felt. He was trapped in the home of a Knight, he was all alone and he was defenceless. Where was the coin of Meciel? Was it in this house? Had the Knight taken the coin with him? More importantly, how was he going to get it back?

Harry stared at the empty plate with a slight look of satisfaction as he let out a loud burp, chewing on the last of the extremely-delicious sandwich as he placed the plate aside. He rubbed his fully belly with contentment, before he turned back to what he had been doing for the past hour or so, tugging and pulling at the cuffs and bedposts. He ignored the pain in his wrists and hands as he desperately tried to free himself, the cold metal of the cuffs rubbing into his wrists, tearing at the sensitive skin. He couldn't stand this place any longer!

A little over three hours ago, Charity had come into the room, her face looking as if it had been carved in marble as she carried in fresh bandages. Harry wouldn't have really cared that the woman was helping him heal, hell; he would have thanked her had she not used iodine. The instant the brown liquid had touched his skin, a great flare of pain had risen in his belly and without Meciel to dampen the effects Harry had felt the full pain. A loud scream had risen in his throat and he had squirmed, the cuffs rattling on the bedpost as he lashed out with a foot, knocking the bottle over onto the ground and kicking hard enough to make Charity grunt as she held him down with far greater strength than he would have guessed the blonde woman possessed. She had returned with another bottle iodine and this time had swabbed really hard as Harry turned his head away, hissing with pain as he tried to keep the tears from welling into his eyes. It had been one of the most humiliating experiences in his life.

However, Harry would later claim that he would prefer humiliating over to boring and tedious when Charity returned a few minutes after changing his bandage with a thick book in her hands. Harry had stared, almost open-mouthed as the beautiful woman had sat down next to him and opened up the bible. Granted, the words didn't hurt him and the presence of the book wasn't dangerous to him in any way, even if he had still carried the coin of Meciel, but after five minutes of her lectures on the virtues of kindness and mercy, Harry was ready to snap. He had turned to the woman, his eyes blazing with anger, but Charity had seen him moving and quickly, but calmly, placed a small bottle of iodine on the bedside table. Harry had stared at the bottle, then at the woman, and then turned his head away in a huff, giving his wrist another tug as Charity smiled and continued reading from the book.

“The cuffs won't break.”

Harry looked up, his bitter reminiscing coming to an end as a young voice interrupted him. Standing in the door way was the same young girl as before, her wand held in her hand tightly as she levelled it at him. A smaller girl, maybe eight years old with blonde pigtails and blue eyes, peeked from behind the eleven-year-old girl's legs, her face showing fear but childish stubbornness.

“Ya think?” He muttered under his breath, turning back to the cuffs and giving them one last tug, before he collapsed in his bed with a sigh as the two girls entered the room, staring at him as if he were a zoo animal. “You know, your mum's mean.”

The older girl blinked, her grey eyes widening at his statement.

“Um…aren't you a demon?” The girl asked in slight confusion, her blonde ponytail glinting in the sunlight as she came closer to the bed.

“Sort of, yeah,” Harry admitted.

“Then how can you call my mom mean?” The girl demanded bluntly, slight anger appearing on her face. “I mean, you kill people and stuff!”

“Well, yeah, but so far they've all deserved it,” Harry said defensively and folded his arms, letting out a little huff. “Besides, I haven't tortured anybody before.”

“Mom didn't torture you!” The little girl cried out, her eyes narrowing in anger as little splotches of red appeared on her cheeks.

“Like hell she didn't!” Harry exclaimed and narrowed his eyes, staring at the older girl with a serious expression. “Listen, you tell her that the more she reads that boring book of hers, the more I feel the urge to sacrifice a human being to the demons!”

The girl laughed uncertainly, a rather beautiful laugh in Harry's honest opinion, but she stopped when she noticed that he looked deadly serious and a horrified expression came over her face, her lips parting in surprise.

“You wouldn't really sacrifice people to a demon, right?” The girl asked slowly, shaking her head slowly in denial, while the little girl clinging to her legs shivered in fright, staring at Harry with big, blue eyes.

“I've done it before,” Harry said with a sly smile, enjoying the reactions of the girls in front of him as they both visible flinched, staring at him with shock and horror, as if the very notion was unbelievable to them.

“Why?” The older girl demanded. “Why would you do that?”

“He deserved it,” Harry shrugged, not showing a lot of concern or interest in their righteous horror. “He wasn't a nice person anyway.”

“Nobody deserves that,” The older girl snapped out angrily.

“Oh, I know a few people who do,” Harry said softly, intently, his eyes distant. “Human's can be just as evil as the foulest demons.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as the older girl cocked her head, eyeing Harry strangely as if she had just seen something about him that she didn't understand. Harry noticed the look but didn't say anything as he settled back down into the bed, giving a half-hearted attempt at yanking the handcuffs and letting out a tired sigh. The silence was broken when the young girl poked her head out from her sister's leg, her blue eyes wide and curious.

“Did you really rob McDonalds?” She asked innocently.

“Yep,” Harry answered honestly, a small smile coming over his face.

“Why?” The little girl asked again.

“Well, I was hungry and I needed the money,” Harry answered. “I also needed the idiots inside to stay inside so I could kill the other Denarian without getting interrupted and distracted.”

“What?” the older girl asked in puzzlement, incomprehension shining in her eyes as she stared at Harry.

Harry sighed in annoyance, rolling his eyes with irritation as he elaborated.

“Well, I couldn't walk in and say “could you please stay inside while I go outside and kill a man who's been taken over by an insane fallen angel that was banished to the Void millennia ago?'” He drawled out. “It's a lot easier to point a gun at them and threaten to blow their heads off if they try to leave.”

“Oh,” The older girl uttered, blinking in surprise. She stood there uncomfortably, seemingly searching for a topic until she recalled something and she brightened up, a curious smile appearing on her face.

“So, do you go to a magic school?” asked the older girl, a little excitement in her voice as she continued. “I just got accepted at Salem's this year. I knew that magic existed, because my older sisters one of those 'true-wizards', as she called herself. But I had no idea about wand-wizards or anything!”

“Meciel is a far greater teacher than any other human could be,” Harry scoffed, disdain in his voice at the thought of one of these schools.

“Meciel?” The younger one echoed.

“The Fallen,” answered the older girl, her voice barely a whisper as she suddenly realised what the innocent-looking wand-wizard in front of her had been no less than a day ago.

Harry nodded and a fond and affectionate smile came over his face. The older girl started at the first sign of true happiness on the boy in front of her, the emotion lighting up his face and casting away the darkness from his eyes, smoothing the hard edges of his mouth and suddenly showing how young he really was. But the expression didn't last and the darkness returned, a terrible anger and longing in his eyes that made her shiver and fumble for another topic.

“So, you know magic already?” she asked, honest curiosity and a hint of yearning in her voice.

Harry suddenly saw an opportunity and smiled, his eyes narrowing with speculation as he answered the girl.

“Oh, I know heaps of it,” He said softly, almost enticingly as he stared at the girl. “There's so much you can do with it, and it's not all evil, you know? It's just…” He allowed himself to trail off as the older girl slightly leaned forward with badly hidden eagerness.

“Just what?” She asked. Her voice was little more than a whisper but Harry merely smiled and let out a sigh, changing the subject.

“Where is my wand and sword?” He asked.

The girl straightened, an expression of wariness appearing on her face as she regarded him with narrowed eyes, her voice suddenly hardening.

“Away from where you can't get them,” She answered firmly. “They're hidden in a place where you can't go.”

“What about my necklace?” Harry asked, trying to be casual and probably failing at it badly. The girl sensed the note of longing and desperation in his voice and although there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes, her face smoothed over as she tried to keep a blank face.

“That's the one with the coin, right?” She said softly.

Harry nodded quickly.

“It's also hidden,” She answered.

Harry didn't allow the smug smile that threatened to curve his lips as the girl strongly insinuated that the coin was still in the house. A wave of relief spread through him, temporarily driving away the deep pool of dread and fear that seemed to rest at the pit of his stomach.

“What magic can you do?” The older girl asked in curiosity.

Harry smiled mysteriously and winked at her, before his face turned serious.

“Why am I here?” He asked quietly.

“Dad brought you home,” The girl answered, shrugging her shoulders as she was also unsure of the real reasons.

“He should have killed me. That's what the Knights do to people like me,” Harry muttered, half in bitterness and half in puzzlement, as if he couldn't comprehend the Knight's actions.

“Mercy is a sign of the righteous,” said a cold, hard male voice from the door.

Harry looked up at the doorway as the two girls spun around, their eyes widening with surprise and a hint of guilt as a older teenage boy, maybe eighteen, with dark hair and grey eyes walked into the room with a stern expression on his face..

“Mum said not to come in here, Amanda, and you too, Hope!” He declared flatly, disapproval and disappointment ringing into his voice.

The older girl started, a guilty expression appearing on her face as she ducked her head.

“I just wanted to see him, Daniel,” she muttered softly.

“Hey, for an extra-five dollars, I can also do magic tricks,” Harry said loudly, painting a bright smile his face. “The good stuff, as well. Give me an extra ten and I'll jump through a hoop of fire for you!”

Daniel shot Harry an annoyed expression, his face hard and unyielding as he regarded Harry evenly.

“Quiet, demon of the night,” He said coldly. “I don't want to hear you speak.”

“'Demon of the night?'” Harry echoed, amusement flashing on his face as he stared at the boy incredulously. “You've been watching too much TV.”

Daniel ignored him as he stepped forward, quickly shepherding Amanda and Hope out of the room. As she left, Amanda threw one last curious glance at Harry, who gave her what he hoped was a friendly smile and a quick wave as she left the room. A moment later, the door closed with a loud click, leaving Harry alone in the small room. He sat back in his bed and rolled his eyes, annoyance on his face.

“Mercy is the sign of the righteous!” He mimicked, making an ugly face at the door. “Yeah, whatever you say, you moron.”

He sighed tiredly as he made himself comfortable but didn't fall asleep. After all, the seeds had been planted and hopefully he would be out of the house in a matter of a few hours. He could rest later, when he found the coin and became one with Meciel again.

Harry waited for his opportunity for a few hours, barely able to hold himself still as the anticipation gnawed at him. He had laid down the bait, with quite a bit of subtlety, or so he liked to think, and the girl, Amanda, had taken a bite. Really, Meciel would have been very pleased with him at the moment. Still, a lot of his plan depended on plain luck and the right circumstances and he waited nervously for the right time.

Sure enough, just after the sun had started setting and during the sounds of laughter and clinking dishes downstairs, the floor outside his room creaked and the door clicked open, swinging in as Amanda walked in, her eyes darting behind her as she shut the door again softly and turned to face him. Her wand was once again trained on him and she sported a very nervous expression on her face, absently biting her lip as she regarded him carefully.

Harry watched her silently, keeping his mouth closed and pasting an inquisitive expression on his face, silently asking her what she was doing here while forcing down the surge of elation that shot through him. Finally, Amanda spoke up, her voice quiet with apprehension as she licked her lips uncertainly.

“You said you knew magic, wand-magic,” She stated quickly. “The good stuff, you said.”

“I do,” Harry answered, giving a short nod.

Amanda waited for a few moments, clearly expecting him to say something more. When he didn't, she let out a sigh of exasperation.

“Well, go on,” She said impatiently, her grey eyes watching him carefully. “Tell me a spell. Not black magic, though. A nice one.”

Harry eyed her and forced himself to roll his eyes in annoyance, but he nodded, a disgruntled and bored expression on his face, as if he had nothing else to do anyway.

“Okay,” He agreed and almost smiled at the flicker of triumph in Amanda's eyes. “First, hold your wand out in front of you….No, lower your elbow and straighten your wrist, yes that's right. Now, a short flick, yeah, like that. Okay, repeat the incantation after me. 'Alohomora!'”

“What does it do?” Amanda asked, suspicion suddenly appearing in her voice although her stance never changed as she absently practised the small, short flicks Harry had just told her to do.

“It conjures a bouquet of the reddest roses you will ever see,” Harry lied smoothly. “They'll never die and wither and they make good gifts.”

“Cool!” Amanda exclaimed with a smile.

“I know,” was all Harry said. “Now, what was that incantation again?”

“Alohomora,” Amanda said softly but clearly.

“Okay, try the spell,” Harry said, trying to act casual as his heart started beating quickly in his chest.

Amanda moved to do the spell but hesitated, her grey eyes finally showing a degree of wariness a she regarded him suspiciously

“What if this is a trap?” She asked distrustfully. “I mean, you are a Denarian and all that.”

Harry let out an impatient sigh, but restrained himself quickly and rolled his eyes.

“Then point the wand at me,” He drawled out, as if he didn't care. “If it's a trap, I'll be the one who gets hurt, not you.”

Amanda bit her lip but does as he says, levelling her wand at him. She gave it a short flick as incanted the spell, her voice clear and loud.

“Alohomora!”

Harry forced himself not to groan out loud as nothing happened, his muscles tense and ready as adrenaline surged through his body.

“Make your flick a little more forceful,” He suggested, forcing himself to sound casual.

“Alohomora!” Amanda stated again, given her flick a little more power. The spell worked as there was a small, blue flash and suddenly the cuffs on Harry's wrist opened up with a small click.

Amanda looked shocked, her eyes widening and her mouth opening as she prepared to scream for help, but Harry moved as quickly as he could, throwing the covers off him and jumping out of the bed. He surged forward, lunging towards Amanda, who took a startled step backwards as he snatched the wand from her grasp and levelled it at her throat.

“Now, be very, very quiet,” He said softly and dangerously.

Amanda nodded slowly, fear etched onto her face as Harry's eyes seemed to gleam in the darkness, his gaze deadly and cold.

“Is the coin in the house?” He asked softly. “And you had better tell me the truth.”

Amanda hesitated, her grey eyes frantically darting away from Harry's green orbs as she shifted on her feet, unwilling to betray her family and her father. Harry let out a small sigh and pressed the tip of the wand into her throat, making her whimper in fear.

“Look, give me the coin, my wand and sword and I'll leave,” He said sincerely. “I won't hurt your family and I won't hurt you. I swear on my, as your mother said, eternally damned soul, that I'll just go and leave you all alone.”

Amanda hesitated, indecision and fear marked on her face as she eyed him, seeing if his sincerity was true, and then nodded slowly, as if she believed him.

“It's here, isn't it?” Harry pressed again.

“Yes,” Amanda whispered softly

“Take me to it,” Harry ordered curtly and gestured for the door. “Now.”