By Evil Kender

Prologue: Legacy Reborn

“Well, my translation's a little bit vague. Uh, I think the circle means "the place of our legacy".”

-Daniel Jackson, “The Fifth Race”

On a night like any other among the uncounted ages of the universe two men stood atop a grassy hill upon an ancient world staring up at the stars. In the eyes of the elder the stars had changed greatly in his long, long life. Some stars had passed their final legacy, their last rays of energy, into mere memory while new ones had only begun to spread their history throughout the galaxy. Beside him stood a man of far fewer years, but of a spirit as old as his own in many ways. Though Arthur was of the second evolution of this form, a Human as they had come to be called, he was someone Moros could call a true friend.

“What troubles you Merlin? You have been distracted these past several nights,” asked the younger man in quiet words.

Moros' eyes remained locked on the stars above as he gave his distracted reply. “My mind is on the far distant future these days my friend. There is much I must do; many tasks to accomplish and complete, but I fear that I may not be allowed to complete it all.”

Arthur raised his bushy eyebrow in honest confusion. Who, in his entire realm, would be foolish enough to deny Merlin the ability to complete his work? “I do not understand old friend. None would dare interfere with your work both from respect of you and by my command.”

A slight chuckle escaped Moros' lips as his eyes finally turned from the heavens to look upon Arthur's still-young face. “Who indeed; who indeed. Now, come young king; there are lessons still to be taught tonight and work to be done. The Legacy of my people can wait for another time.”

A slightly confused nod was Arthur's only response to his mentor as the aged wizard turned his back upon the king and strode off. Though the King wasn't sure who Merlin meant by “his people” or what their legacy might be he did feel that somehow it was more important than the wizard was letting on. Perhaps one day he would learn the secrets behind Merlin's often times cryptic comments.

The two men began the journey off the hillside in silence. It was Arthur who finally broke the quiet as his mind turned to more mundane, or so he thought, considerations. Hand resting on the hilt of his now-famed sword, Excalibur, he turned his head slightly to watch his mentor for a reaction as he spoke.

“A messenger arrived late this afternoon. He carried a missive from that young squire you asked me to dispatch to the Fens.”

“Did he now? What, pray tell, did the young Squire Gryffindor have to say with such urgency that he dispatched a messenger,” replied Merlin in a quietly amused tone.

Arthur just sighed. Once again Merlin seemed to know what was going to happen before it did. “As if you don't know already,” he muttered under his breath before replying in a normal volume. “He says that he located the family you wished him to. They will be returning soon with both the boy and a young lady of his acquaintance named Rowena.”

Merlin simply nodded. “Excellent. Things progress as they must. Has there been any word from the other squire?”

“Aye; the family was located and you were correct. Their youngest, a girl named Helga, is indeed the one you wanted.”

“They too are will be returning soon I take it,” Merlin inquired.

“Indeed.” The young king's footsteps halted and he turned to face Merlin with a serious expression. “I do not understand why you seek these mages Merlin. You know I do not fully trust those who wield the arcane aside from you. Many only follow my rule because you stand by my side.”

With a great sigh Moros too stopped his journey. “I know Arthur. However, there are certain events that must come to pass. These mages, as you call them, have a potential unseen in humanity, even among its mages, thus far. They will be instrumental in setting the stage for events that, powers willing, will not come to pass for a thousand generations.”

Letting loose a resigned sigh the King simply nodded. “This has more to do with those things of which you refuse to speak. By all that is holy I grow tired of these secrets!”

Moros chortled lightly and patted the young man on the shoulder. “In due time Arthur I shall disclose to you secrets the likes of which you can not imagine. Sadly, at that same time I shall set you upon a course that will most likely consume you until the end of your days.”

Arthur startled back at the information, but more so at the haunted look in Merlin's eyes. It was the first time in a great many years that he had felt fear and uncertainty over Merlin's words.

…Spring 1980…

A very pregnant Lily Potter slammed her fist down on the workbench before her in frustration. Never in her short time as an Unspeakable had she been this frustrated. Her angry gaze remained locked on the offending metallic object occupying the center of her workbench. Her instincts were screaming at her that this device was the key to the war, but nothing she tried could reveal more than the most insignificant details about it. Closing her eyes and taking a calming breath she tried to regain a reasonable frame of mind.

“Okay Lily: think logically,” she began talking to herself aloud as she walked circles around her workbench and once again visually dissected the object. It was a process she had been through a dozen or more times in the past four months, but she wasn't about to give up. “We know the object was made by wizards and not muggles because it was found in the tomb of an ancient wizard near Rome.”

Her eyes shifted from the artifact to the stack of parchment beside it. She had taken detailed notes on every aspect of her research from the first day. Though she couldn't explain the feeling her instincts had told her that those notes would be of vital importance one day. After ensuring that her auto-dictating quill was adding her comments to the latest sheet of parchment Lily drew her attention back to the object and continued her fresh analysis.

The bluish black metal glinted along its smooth surfaces as she moved between it and the candles around the room. “It is made of an unknown metal, and does not respond to any spells or potions.” Her steps halted as she once again closely examined the eight ridges of the object that seemed to telescope upward toward the circular opening in the center. “With the exception of the opening in the center there is nothing else to indicate anything inside the object.”

Arms crossing over her abdomen she muttered for a moment as her baby kicked. “Ohhh. Harry, not now baby. Mommy's trying to work,” she murmured affectionately toward her swollen stomach. A sigh passed her lips as she realized how soon she would have to give up working until after her son was born. Her frustration began to build again at the thought of the secrets the object held going undiscovered for so much longer.

Again her eyes turned to the parchments beside the artifact. She considered turning her efforts toward translating the inscriptions found on the walls around the device. Her eyes narrowed in added frustration as her thoughts drifted to the strange language. The inscriptions were unlike anything she, or the other Unspeakables, had ever encountered. They couldn't even truly decide if the strange block-like characters of the language were meant to be letters, words, or some odd drawing.

Growling slightly under her breath she again slammed her fist upon the table. However, this time the act of frustration proved to be too much and a slight jolt of accidental magic joined her fist's impact on the table. It was an unfortunate side effect of late-stage pregnancy; erratic emotions coupled with a magically powerful Witch would never make a good combination. Unfortunately, for an already burdened workbench the magically enhanced strike was more than it could handle and the nearest leg released an ominous cracking sound that echoed through the room.

Quickly stepping back Lily's eyes went wide in shock as she watched the leg begin to splinter and finally snap. The workbench groaned and like a slain leviathan began to topple over as a second leg began to snap and crack. In the blinking of an eye the weight of the device shifted as the table slanted and it rapidly descended toward her. Her stacks of parchment slid and scattered like leaves in the wind as they covered the floor. The auto-quill continued to record her colorful words as it too slid in a streak of ink off the bench and onto the scattering parchments on the floor. Her notes were permanently ruined by the chaos ensuing around the collapsing workbench.

Acting on instinct Lily rushed forward to secure the object in a moment of panic. The awkward shape and overwhelming weight of the device only served to bring her crashing down on top of it as it settled heavily on the stone floor of her workroom with a resounding thud. Her bulging stomach landed dead center upon the artifact and actually seemed to fit into the opening no worse for the wear. With a final crash the remaining half of the table collapsed and small splinters of wood from the four broken legs were sent flying into the air.

Crossing her arms before her face to protect her eyes Lily's weight shifted to her abdomen and pressed her stomach further into the opening of the object. What happened next she would never be able to fully recall. A soft humming noise seemed to be emitted from the object before it shot upward lifting her bodily as two metallic hand-like objects sprung forth and surrounded her waist. A cry of panic and a struggle blinded her to the glow coming from the device or the warm feeling spreading over her womb.

Mere moments later the lab door burst open and dozens of her fellow Unspeakables rushed in. They were treated to the bizarre sight of Lily Potter hoisted a good three feet into the air above the device she was supposed to be studying. In the time it took them to comprehend what they were seeing the metallic hands of the device retracted along with the telescoped middle. The object had returned to its dormant state with no evidence it had ever moved.

Lily moved back to her feet and away from the ruined table and mystery object with a speed not before seen in a seven month pregnant woman. Her hands rapidly moved about her body to check for its wholeness and any injuries she might have sustained. Once satisfied that she was unharmed she and her coworkers stood staring at the object for several long moments.

No one in the room would ever live to understand the full implications of what had happened.

On a higher plane of existence two beings watched on in shock as plans set in motion a thousand years prior took an unexpected turn.

Miles away, within a dingy room in a less than reputable Inn, a woman sat bolt-upright. The wobbly-legged chair she was seated on swayed dangerously at the sudden change in weight and motion but held with only a brief shudder. Her eyes glazed over behind her thick glasses and the aged man before her peer curiously at her over his half-moon glasses. The cup of tea in the woman's hand slowly tipped before spilling the still-steaming drink into her lap without garnering any reaction.

Her wispy voice was replaced by a hollow rasping tone when her lips parted, and much to the ancient man's annoyance her first words were in a language unfamiliar to his ears. The words came in disjointed spurts and he suspected that even if he knew the language she would have made little sense; though on occasion he would catch a word that was somewhat familiar.

“…Videeum…Anqueetus…. ……terre. Separerunt…….Videeum…dormata... deductavum…populi…..disce et…tempus……fallatus…Anqueetus. Ex uno disce omnes.”

He sighed in annoyance as her words trained off into soft mutterings. Certainly he had believed the woman was a fraud of a Seer, but this little act held the signs of truth. Sadly, it seemed Sibyll Trelawney was susceptible to the most common of afflictions in those gifted with foresight: incomprehensibility. Albus Dumbledore was about to give up on the woman's interview when her voice again became strong.

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...”

Albus' eyes grew wide and he suddenly found himself very interested in offering Ms. Trelawney a rather permanent position among his teaching staff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

…Summer 1994…

It was around one in the afternoon and Harry lay on his small cot in the second bedroom at Number 4 Privet Drive. His hands were folded behind his head and his eyes gazed unfocused at the ceiling as his mind wandered. In only a few short hours the Weasleys would arrive to take him to the Burrow. Yet, as excited as he was over the prospect of leaving Privet Drive and attending the Quidditch World Cup his mind was elsewhere.

His recent dreams had begun to occupy more and more of his waking thoughts. Recently his dreams had taken on two distinct overtones. The first, and most recent set, was of him standing on a metallic platform staring out over a vast expanse of water. The platform rested atop the perfectly calm sea and a soft breeze caressed him as he gazed upon the water's surface. A total sense of peace and tranquility filled him in this dreamscape and his mind felt sharper and more alert somehow when he would wake up.

The second set of dreams was far more enigmatic and dark. The details were elusive and slipped from his mind as though it were a sieve once he would wake up. Voldemort's involvement in those dreams was his only certainty due to the ache he felt in his scar when he woke up.

It was this second set of dreams that had prompted him to write to Sirius yesterday. While in retrospect the letter had really told Sirius nothing of the dream he felt questioning Sirius about his scar was sufficient. The concept of relying on an adult was still one he had problems with so it was best not to bother them with too many details.

A glance at the clock on his bedside table revealed that he still had nearly three hours before Mr. Weasley would arrive. Closing his eyes and shifting his shoulders a bit brought him to a more comfortable position and it wasn't long before he drifted off into a light nap. This time his dreams were filled with Quidditch and his friends as the growing excitement of the upcoming World Cup found its way to the forefront of his mind.

…Fall 1994…

The morning of November 24th 1994 dawned far, far too early for Harry Potter. It was, to his mind, the morning of a day that would prove to be the culmination of a bad year into what he was sure would be his early death. After all, how many fourteen year olds face off against a dragon and live? Lying in bed as the early dawn light began to spill in through the dormitory windows he couldn't help but wish for a miracle.

Closing his eyes he tried desperately to doze off for a few more precious moments of sleep. It was to his surprise when he suddenly found himself standing on a familiar platform staring out over endless rippling waves. As usual the sense of tranquility began to fill him and his mind seemed to focus. Yet, this time something seemed different. A soft murmur of sound drew his attention away from the ocean for the first time since he had begun having this dream.

As he turned to search for the source of the sound he discovered that the open circular platform had been replaced. Now, behind him was a large wall with dark windows and a door made of stained-glass in the center. He glanced over his shoulder to confirm the continued presence of the vast ocean so he knew it was the same place he had always been. His eyes slid back to the door before him as his ears strained to identify the sound he was hearing.

Taking a step toward the door caused it to slide open with a soft almost musical tone to reveal a nearly blinding light. The volume of the sound rose to a near deafening crescendo and he was able to decipher it to be a spoken language. Though he could make out words within the sound it was as if millions of voices were all speaking at once and in a language he couldn't recognize.

As he covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut under the assault of light and sound his balance was suddenly jarred and he stumbled backward into the platform's railing. Turning away from the doorway and blinding light he opened his eyes only to have them bulge and his jaw hang open at the sight that met him. The motion of the platform had been its sudden elevation above the ocean's surface. As it continued to rise higher and higher into the clear blue sky Harry could begin to see other objects rising along with it.

Stretching out before him were now dozens of towers in various shapes and sizes. It was a veritable landscape that now shown brightly in the warm sunlight of his dreamscape. The strong current of sound now echoed throughout the spires and platforms before him and the volume evened out to bearable levels. Oddly there was no sense of amazement or confusion by the sudden change of his dreamscape. The only thing he felt was a sense of rightness; a sense as though this was how it was always meant to be.

He stood within his newly expanded dreamscape for what seemed like hours simply taking in the sights and listening to the chorus of voices. The longer he listened the more he wished he could understand the language. When finally the scene before him began to darken he realized it was time to wake up, and for the first time in weeks the prospect didn't frighten him.

It didn't take long that morning for people to begin whispering about the change in Harry's demeanor. Those that had been watching him in the recent days had seen someone who was obviously fraying around the edges. His strained friendship with Ron, the hostilities of some students, and of course the upcoming First Task had all been taking a visible toll on the fourteen year old. Yet, to everyone's surprise, today …the day of the First Task… saw a Harry Potter who looked far different.

His eyes seemed to have lost the slightly haunted look they had held. His posture spoke of quiet confidence and his voice betrayed no sense of ill-ease. It was a puzzle that many, and most specifically Hermione Granger, were dying to piece together. However, when anyone would question him about the change he would simply grin and respond with a shrug. “Just feeling good today,” became something of a catch-phrase for him throughout the morning lessons as people inquired about the change.

Classes that morning were almost pointless as no one, teacher and student alike, was concentrating. All thoughts were bent toward the spectacle that was to take place shortly after lunch out on the grounds. While most people were speculating on the various Champion's chances or what the task might actually be Harry found himself turning his thoughts inward to a skyline of gleaming towers.

At noon when Professor McGonagall approached him in the Great Hall to inform him that he was to make his way to the grounds to prepare for the First Task he quickly finished his lunch. It had been the first meal he had found an appetite for in weeks and he was slightly disgruntled to have to cut it short. However, the overriding sense of anticipation, and though he couldn't believe it, excitement spurred him on.

Harry heard the whistle blow that signaled it as his turn at the First Task. Perhaps before he would have found himself exiting the tent with a sense of dread or panic, but all he currently felt was calm resolve. He knew facing the dragon and getting the egg was going to be difficult, but he had found a confidence that the strategy he had worked out with Professor Moody and Hermione would work. Now it was time to put the tactic to the test.

Hundreds of people stared down at him from the stands while the Horntail eyed him from across the enclosure. Its body was crouched low over its eggs while its tail lashed in agitation. A long gash appeared in the solid rock that the beast's tail had just collided with.

“That could hurt,” he muttered to himself as he raised his wand. In a clear and focused state of mind he was about to call out the incantation for a summoning charm when a sudden sense of danger overwhelmed him and he flung himself sideways to the ground. The movement proved to come not a moment too soon as a plume of flame surged past where he had been only a heartbeat before. Eyes widening a bit Harry realized his timetable was a bit narrower than he'd thought.

Harry leapt to his feat and dashed over the rocky surface of the arena to a nearby outcropping of boulders. Dropping to a crouch behind the largest boulder just in time to escape a second burst of flame he realized his mistake too late. He had just placed the dragon between himself and where his broom lay in wait. Though he could still summon his Firebolt the chances of it getting past the beast intact were slim.

Sweat began to run down his face as the heat from the dragon's continued assault began to take its toll. He needed to do something, anything, to get his broom to him and yet other than summoning it past the dragon he could think of nothing. Then, as he furiously considered his options a soft voice in the back of his mind offered him an alternative. Acting more on instinct and adrenaline than on logic Harry didn't question where the thought came from, but rather leapt on it like a drowning man to a life preserver.

In all the practice he had undergone in the prior days with Hermione nothing had prepared him for what happened when he cast the summoning charm this time. While he focused on the wand movements and mental aspect of the spell he changed the incantation; calling out “Ego Indeeo Firebolt,” rather than “Accio Firebolt!”

He felt the rush of the magic just as always before, but this time he added a twist that the voice had suggested and suddenly the rush became a flood. The air before him seemed to ripple for a moment before a hazy golden light split along the length of the distortion like a tear in cloth. In a bright flash seconds later his Firebolt fell onto the ground out of the distortion. The light faded and in the length of a heartbeat the evidence of what had happened was reduced to the broom at his feet.

“That's new,” he quipped dryly as he quickly picked up the broom and mounted it.

History was made that afternoon as Harry almost effortlessly out-flew the dragon and collected the Golden Egg. The crowd was in an uproar of excitement, but none more so than the Gryffindors who rushed to the edge of the stands to cheer on Harry as he landed.

A short time later Ron and Harry had returned to their prior friendship, Hermione had begun her interrogation on what happened with the summoning charm, and the judges were ready to announce the last round of scores. It began with Madame Maxime grudgingly awarding a score of nine stating it would have been ten if Harry had escaped without any singeing to his broom. In an act that brought the crowd to roaring laughter Harry dashed to check on his broom as he didn't realize it had been scorched at all.

Mr. Crouch concurred with Madame Maxime's assessment and awarded a nine also followed by Dumbledore. The cheers from the crowd put a ringing in Harry's ears. Ludo Bagman, whom Harry was getting the distinct impression had alternate intentions, awarded him a perfect score of ten. The incredulous looks on the faces of the other judges confirmed Harry's growing suspicions of Mr. Bagman.

The scoring concluded, much to the crowd's boisterous jeers, with Karkaroff awarding a mere six points after citing Harry's methods to be “crude and childish”. Hermione had to restrain Ron from charging up to the Durmstrang Headmaster and voicing his opinion of the man's scoring methods. Harry couldn't help but feel much better about his relationship with his friend after the display.

Life for Harry seemed to only be getting better after the First Task. The other students had, for the most part, backed off of their taunts and jeers. His friendship with Ron was back on track and even his studies seemed to be going much more smoothly. It was this last improvement that had begun to catch the attention of various other parties.

In class his teachers were amazes at the ease he was suddenly learning new material with. Where as before he could struggle with some of the simplest spells he now seemed to have a near instinctual grasp of them. The only oddity they found was that on occasion they would catch him substituting the word of a spell with another language. When they would question him about it, however, he would just stare at them in confusion as if they were the one speaking a different language.

While Ron simply shrugged the strange academic occurrences off Hermione was not to be dissuaded. She regularly pestered him for information on what the odd language that sounded like Latin was and where he had learned it. It also became routine for her to storm off in frustration when Harry would deny any and all knowledge of other languages or the reason for his sudden successes in class.

In the majority life carried on as normally as it ever does at Hogwarts. Adventures in dealing with Rita Skeeter, Blast-Ended Skrewts, and deciphering the clue for the Second Task occupied Harry's days. His nights were filled with exploring his ever-expanding dreamscape. No longer was he confined to the single balcony, but he now roamed the nearly infinite hallways of what he was coming to understand was his mind.

It had been an interesting discovery the night he realized the collection of towers, platforms, hallways, and rooms was actually his mind. He had been exploring through one of the inner most hallways when he stumbled across a room which appeared to be occupied by nothing more than a raised dais in the center. When he approached the dais the room darkened and images began to materialize in the center of the platform. Moments later it became clear that the images were actually memories.

After several nights of exploring he encountered more rooms which displayed memories in the same fashion as the first. Each room's memories were specific, however, to an individual purpose. One room was devoted totally to his memories of learning and casting spells while another held all his memories of the Dursleys. He had to admit that he was glad to know which room to not return to after that discovery.

Further explorations throughout the byways of his mind began to reveal memory rooms that contained images and thoughts he didn't understand. The language he heard in the chorus of voices throughout the dreamscape was the only one spoken within these memories and it was starting to frustrate him. There was a nagging feeling that if he could just learn the strange, yet familiar, language that the rest would make sense.

As the Winter Holidays approached so too did the one event that was all the talk amongst the students: The Yule Ball. In a move that surprise nearly everyone Harry asked Katie Bell to accompany him to the Ball, but she regretfully declined as she had already accepted one of the twin's invitations. Oddly, she didn't seem clear on which one had asked her and Alicia Spinnet having accepted the invitation of the other twin only served to further confuse things.

The Ball ended up a success and disaster in equal parts. Hermione had accepted Victor Krum's invitation, much to Ron's vocal displeasure. This became the center piece to the evening's injured feelings and harsh words. Meanwhile, Harry managed to surprise nearly everyone when he displayed a rather impressive ability to dance; even if no one quiet knew the dances he was leading his date through. Parvati, who had accepted Harry's rather late invitation, ended up feeling rather pleased with the evening. Sadly, her sister was less than pleased with Ron's lack of attention or dancing.

As the twenty fourth of February finally crept upon Hogwarts the excitement in the air had once again taken on nearly tangible levels. On a tip from Cedric a few days prior Harry had finally discovered the secret of the Golden Egg and begun frantic research. The question of the day was simple: how do you hold your breath for an hour while swimming through the depths of the Black Lake?

Hermione had been in her element, but it had done little good. Research into obscure charms or spells hadn't gotten them anywhere. It was the pre-dawn hours of the day of the Second Task when Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves blearily staring at piles of books in a last-ditch effort to find a solution.

Harry's eyes fluttered closed as he rested his head among the pages of a book detailing Merlin only knew what. The puzzle of how to survive underwater for an hour buzzed among his thoughts like a persistent and annoying gnat. As his conscious mind relaxed he found himself in a state between sleep and wakefulness. The soft murmur of the familiar language filled his fuzzy mind. Suddenly the words began to make sense. Dozens of possibilities for underwater survival began to stream through his mind replacing the gibberish language.

In his state of semi-consciousness many of the suggestions seemed ludicrous or like something out of one of Dudley's science fiction shows. Though he had to admit the idea of diving to the bottom of the lake in the small craft that flashed before his mind's eye did seem like fun. As the ideas turned to more reasonable, in Harry's mind, methods one finally came to him that was the perfect answer.

His eyes flew open and he sat up in his seat with a jerk. “I've got it,” he called out loudly. Ron and Hermione jerked violently in their seats in surprise at Harry's sudden movements and yelling. They turned to look at their friend only to catch sight of him dashing off through the Library doors.

The two exchanged a brief and highly confused glance before they too burst from their seats and tore off in pursuit of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Neville Longbottom stared at the water of the Black Lake before him. His breath was caught in his throat and panic began to rise. “Oh my God; I've killed Harry Potter,” he muttered to himself as still no sign of his roommate emerged from the murky depths.

A moment of rational thought broke through his panic as he realized it really hadn't been him who told Harry to use Gillyweed to breathe underwater. He had simply confirmed what Harry had asked about it. It was that elf, Dobby, that stole it from Snape's private storeroom and given it to Harry.

In the end none of those thoughts made him feel any better as no sign of the boy savior emerged from the lake. Neville's worry was finally abated when a moment later the form of Harry Potter shot out of the water in an impressive flip before submerging once again. With a deep sigh Neville shook his head with disbelief and relief.

“Harry, you prat,” said Ron, “you didn't take that song thing seriously did you? Dumbledore wouldn't have let any of us drown!”

Harry blinked for a moment as he stared through still dripping strands of hair. He hadn't actually thought about that. “It was just the right thing to do Ron,” he replied with a shrug and grin.

The Second Task had been completed with Harry taking second place. He had surpassed the allotted time for the task in a misguided attempt to save more than one hostage of the Merepeople. Though he had technically failed the task his “moral fiber” in wanting to rescue everyone had pulled him ahead of Krum's poor attempt at self-transfiguration and Fleur's total failure. In the end he was tied for first place with Cedric Diggory and couldn't have been happier.

The four months between the Second and Third Tasks were anything but quiet for Harry. The discovery of a slightly insane Mr. Crouch and his subsequent disappearance had brought up the cold truth about the tournament and surrounding events. The danger to Harry was put before him in letters from Sirius and conversations with his friends.

It was shortly after the discovery of Dumbledore's pensive and the memories of Barty Crouch Jr. that Harry began to feel events were coming to a head. His preparations for the Third Task combined with his regular studies occupied his every waking moment, but he felt his true preparations were taking place while he slept. As happened before the First Task his mental attitude was being drastically changed each night as he visited his dreamscape.

In the days just prior to the Third Task his dream had altered once again. Where last time the single platform had given rise to a virtual city worth of spires and buildings this change was far more expansive. The sky above the shimmering city changed from its usual clear blue to the most startling view of the cosmos. Trillions of starts twinkled in a pitch black sky while hundreds of examples of other cosmic bodies floated in a perfect balance to one another. It was like looking at the ultimate depiction of the universe.

With the change in his dreamscape Harry also found he could understand more and more of the language the chorus of voices used. While understanding had finally begun to come the comprehension was still lacking. In a way it felt as though someone had handed him a user's manual to something he had never seen or heard of. The details were there, but the context was missing.

When June twenty fourth rolled around Harry stood calmly at the entrance to the giant maze. While outwardly he was simply waiting casually for the final task to begin he was actually running through a mental list of all the spells he had practiced. This was the ace up his sleeve so to speak. While in front of his friends and professors he had practiced the spells as taught he had also been working in secret.

It had been an interesting discovery to learn that most of his spells worked faster, better, or were stronger when he spoke in the strange Latin-like language he heard in his dreams. He had begun to understand the correlative words for his spells first and when he would substitute them the effects were noticeable. More than simply replacing words he had also discovered that issuing the command word of a spell mentally rather than verbally increased his casting speed, and strangely enough, accuracy.

Harry's eyes shifted toward the crowd and the expectantly nervous faces of his friends. A smile crossed his lips as he realized they were more nervous than he was. He felt slightly guilty for not telling them about his discoveries, but he just couldn't figure out how to explain it all without sounding totally insane.

His musings were cut short, however, as the whistle sounded. All mental minutia fell away as his thoughts focused totally on the task at hand. He noted Cedric entering the maze out of the corner of his eyes and followed suit. It was time to win the cup.

The trek through the maze proved an eventful one, but not just in terms of planned obstacles. The discovery of Krum assaulting Cedric under the influence of the Imperius curse seemed to overshadow the Sphinx's riddles somehow. Likewise, the discovery of an Acromantula at the center of the maze stole the attention from the now stunned and bound Bulgarian.

Harry wasn't sure where they had found this particular giant spider, but he was certain it wasn't one of Aragog's children. In his second year Harry had been able to effect even the largest of the spider's children with his spells, but this particular Acromantula just ignored them. Cedric's spells seemed to be having equally little effect and the battle was starting to turn against the two teenage wizards.

As he tried to think of a spell that might work his attention wavered and the spider struck. Harry looked up in time to see a pair of legs sweeping forward in a move that would surely impale him. Suddenly he was thrust to the ground by the impact of another body against his and the hairy Acromantula legs sailed inches above him. A quick glance showed his savior to be none other than Cedric.

Finally Harry started becoming desperate to end the battle against the now lividly rampaging spider. He mentally raced for a solution while physically dodging a pair of envenomed fangs when finally a thought drifted through the forefront of his mind. Like a voice whispering in his ear a single word echoed in his consciousness. He dodged another strike by the spider's legs and took a single step back.

Thrusting his hand and wand forward toward the giant beast he mentally bellowed the word that had become his sole focus. “Dormata!” In an instant the super-sized bug collapsed to the ground in a seemingly unconscious heap.

Harry staggered forward and rested his hands against his knees. His entire body felt both energized and yet weak. It was an odd sensation. After a moment he came to his senses and realized that he had decided to take a breather while standing five feet from the Tri-Wizard Cup and his opponent. Standing up straight he looked across the clearing and found Cedric to be staring at him in much the same breathless condition.

The two boys stared at each other for a moment before Harry broke the silence. “Take it Cedric. You saved my life. You could have just grabbed the cup while the spider finished me off.”

Again the two just stared at each other. “There's no guarantee of that, and besides you saved me from Krum.” came the older boy's reply.

Harry couldn't help but grin. “It's going to get pretty boring for the crowd if we spend too long arguing over who wins.”

Cedric laughed aloud as the tension of the battle finally broke. “Together then; we'll split the prize and glory?”

A smile again spread over Harry's face. “Together.”

The two reached forward and two hands curled around opposite handles of the crystal cup. In the blinking of an eye the maze was empty as the two teens were unknowingly whisked away. The crowd sat in anxious silence as they watched the exits of the maze and the two contestants being removed on stretchers. The wait for the ultimate victor was on.

Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter landed rather unceremoniously among the headstones of a long disused cemetery. Harry's scar burst into pain so intense he was unaware of the approach of a third person until he heard Cedric call for them to stop. As he looked up the pain in his scar mixed with a sudden and soul chilling realization of who the approaching man was held him firmly on his knees in shock.

“Cedric, RUN,” he screamed out as Wormtail's wand-filled hand rose in the Hufflepuff's direction.

The older boy's face showed his apprehension and confusion over the situation as his eyes turned from the older man to Harry. It was a moment of indecision that cost him his life as a soft, and yet malice filled, voice from somewhere ordered, “Kill the spare!”

Another wave of intense pain kept Harry in place as he watched the sickly green light of the Killing curse wash over Cedric. The Hufflepuff Champion's body fell limply to the ground, still-confused eyes staring sightlessly at the cloudless sky above. Harry could only stare in mute horror at the boy's corpse.

Pain, fear, rage, and confusion warred for dominance as Harry was secured to a headstone and Peter Pettigrew began some sort of ceremony. The realization of what was happening struck like a bolt of lightning as Wormtail began to recite an incantation along with placing the final ingredients of the potion into a large cauldron.

“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!”

Panic filled him. This couldn't happen; Voldemort couldn't be coming back. He had to escape and warn Dumbledore. Harry redoubled his struggles to break free.

“Flesh - of the servant - willingly given, - you will - revive - your master!” the balding man stuttered out in sobs before slicing off his own right hand over the cauldron.

Harry stared in total disbelief at what Pettigrew had just done. He had closed his eyes as soon as he realized what was to come, but after Wormtail's scream he couldn't help but look to confirm his suspicion. Now, as he saw the short man moving toward him, knife still drawn, did Harry realize what was about to happen.

“Blood of the enemy…forcibly taken…you will…”

It was as far as Pettigrew ever got.

In the moment of clarity as Peter's knife cut away the cloth of Harry's sleeve it happened. Just as in the battle against the acromantula a voice in the language of his dreams seemed to fill his consciousness. While he didn't fully understand what he was about to do, he knew it was his only hope.

As the knife moved to cut into the flesh of his arm his eyes grew hollow and the air seemed to electrify with ambient energy. Harry's mind focused on reaching out with his magic and connecting with the very world around him. His fear, anger, and determination to stop the ritual fueled his power while the instincts being provided by the voice of his dreams gave that power substance. The magical energy melded with the ambient energy and the world provided Harry Potter the means to accomplish his goal.

Pettigrew backed away in panic as what little hair he had left on his head began to lift as though he'd been playing with static electricity. His eyes grew wide as he looked up to see a growing bank of roiling clouds flashing with barely contained lightning. Confusion and fear only multiplied within him as he looked back to the boy.

In Pettigrew's fearful, and slightly insane, mind he saw the vengeful and wrathful image of James Potter and not Harry. The betrayer saw the specter of death before him as his fear-fractured mind made the connection between the man and storm above him. Voldemort's rasping, desperate, cries of “finish the ritual,” went unheeded as his servant no longer feared him above all else.

A scream barely had time to pass the balding man's dry lips as a blinding flash of lightning and a deafening crack of thunder filled the graveyard. The impact hurled him off his feet, through the air, and the aging man plummeted back to earth to land atop the wrought-iron fence surrounding the cemetery. The traitor was instantly killed as a spear-like ornamental top of the fence impaled his heart.

In the center of the graveyard where the target of the lightning strike had been the remains of the cauldron lay smoking. The fluid remains of the potion bubbled among the shards of the cauldron as it slowly sunk into the earth or evaporated into the air. Shards of the cauldron lay embedded in nearby tombstones as further evidence of the might the lightning strike held. Amid the fluid and metal the lumpy and reptilian form of Voldemort laid twitching and moaning in pain.

Freed from his restraints as Pettigrew died, Harry slowly stood and staggered his way toward his mortal enemy. His mind was surprisingly clear for what he had been through that evening and he knew what had to be done. Releasing his tight reigns on the storm above allowed the sky to slowly return to the clear evening it had been. Harry's eyes focused on the infant-like form of his parent's murderer. He knew then what had to be done: the spirit of Voldemort could not be allowed to go free when its current vessel died.

Though he didn't know exactly where the knowledge to do so came from; Harry cupped his hands together before him and a golden-white energy began to form between them. Oddly, there was no voice from the chorus directed him, but rather some deeper instinct awakened by the presence of the voices.

“Goodbye Tom.” was the only warning he provided the foul creature that was Voldemort before he hurled the glowing energy at it. The globe of golden-white energy impacted upon the Dark Lord's snake-like face and Voldemort screamed.

A sharp and unimaginable pain shot through Harry's scar and his legs buckled beneath him. The energy he had flung against Voldemort began to consume the Dark Wizard's tiny and frail body, but it was doing more than that. The very energy and essence of Voldemort, his soul, was being consumed by the energy as well. As the connection between Harry and Voldemort was destroyed the pain in his scar grew worse.

Five streams of golden-white light shot out from the writhing form of Voldemort and sped off into the night sky in opposing directions. No part of Voldemort's essence would be safe.

After what seemed to be hours the pain in his scar began to recede. Breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to rise to his feet only to find himself beyond exhaustion. His vision began to tunnel and no matter how hard he struggled he could not remain conscious any longer.

When he was finally able to struggle back to consciousness the faint signs of predawn were on the horizon. He briefly took in the surrounding area and the burnt circle on the ground where Voldemort had once lain. It was over now. He could already feel his body and magic healing the scar on his forehead. Soon there would be no evidence that Voldemort hadn't died thirteen years prior.

Groaning at his body's protests over movement he sat up and rubbed his eyes in an effort to stave off his weariness for a bit. Staring around him in a half-daze he was bombarded by hundreds of different thoughts all at once. It was with a sad glance at Cedric's body that Harry realized his next order of business. He had to get back to Hogwarts and take the fallen Champion's body with him.

The wizarding world was in an uproar. The conclusion to the Tri-Wizard tournament had been anything but what was expected. Harry Potter had reappeared in the center of the spectator's ring just outside the maze. Exhaustion had overtaken him as the effort to support both himself and Cedric's body became too much. The two forms fell limply to the ground in front of family, friends, spectators and press alike.

After an attempt by Professor Moody to remove Harry from Madame Pomfrey's care it was discovered that he was an imposter. An impressively short duel with Dumbledore later and Barty Crouch Jr. was revealed to have been the culprit behind Voldemort's attempted revival.

It wouldn't be until the next day that Harry would discover the true consequences for the night's events.

When he awoke in the infirmary Professor Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic were already there along with two Aurors. Dozens of questions about the events in the Maze, Cedric's death, and two off-the-scale magical events in Little Haggleton had Harry's head spinning before long. After a long and grueling interrogation session the Aurors and a highly disgruntled Minister left Harry alone with the Headmaster.

The old man stared darkly at Harry for a long moment before speaking in a voice that carried with it his full power and authority. “Harry, I must ask that you reveal to me where you learned the spell you used to summon a storm, and more importantly, destroy Voldemort. Magic that can destroy a person's essence as you described is of the darkest order and I admit myself ashamed that you could have delved to such depths without my noticing.”

Harry blinked. His mind came to a near halt as the confusion of Dumbledore's statement took root. “W-what? I don't know anything about dark magic. I told you it just came to me; like it was instinctive or something.”

Dumbledore's look, if possible, darkened further. “Lying to me will not make things easier for you Harry. The Minister is already pressing to charge you with use of Dark Magic. He does not wish word of Voldemort's attempted return to reach the public, but questions about Cedric's death have already begun. If you tell me the truth I may be able to help you.”

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Dumbledore was practically accusing him of being a Dark Lord in training like he was a Malfoy or something. “Professor I swear to you on my magic; I have never, and would never, study Dark Magic.” As a flash of golden-white light sealed his oath Harry stared the Headmaster directly in the eyes. “Do you believe me now?”

In all his years Dumbledore had never felt more confused. What Harry had described he knew of only as some of the darkest magic known to wizardkind, and yet he had just sworn a binding oath that he had never studied dark magic. The only explanations were not something he cared to consider, and the power the boy had displayed only made them worse. He simply nodded his satisfaction and belief before standing.

“I must consider this Harry. I'm afraid an oath, no matter how magically binding, will not be enough for the Minister. He fears the power you possess and will do nearly anything to ensure you are not a threat.”

Harry's eyes settled on Hogwarts Castle as he gazed out the window of the Hogwarts Express. A single sigh escaped his lips as he thought about the school and his friends. It still amazed him that things had ended the way they had. He never would have thought that Dumbledore would allow the Minister to have his way, but in the end here he was on the Express two days early and never to return.

A danger to the other students was what Fudge had called him. He couldn't help but shake his head in disgust. Even Dumbledore, who knew Harry never studied a bit of dark magic, seemed to agree that he was inclined toward “the dark” and could be a detriment to other students. Even still Harry had tried to convince himself it had all just been an act on Dumbledore's part; something to appease Fudge. However, when Dumbledore himself suggested binding Harry's power it had been a blow of true betrayal.

Harry still seethed over the Headmaster's attempt. If it hadn't been for the chorus of his dreams and a frantic silently cast shield then Dumbledore's spell might have worked. Harry was seeing red over the whole situation for hours, but when he finally put his anger aside he was able to realize what was happening.

Plain and simple: he was being railroaded out of the wizarding world. He had done his part and finished off Voldemort, but now he was a liability. It was ironic, but he would have been better off claiming to have studied dark magic. The power he had used to destroy Voldemort was dangerous, but a young student who was sorry for having studied such magics could be redeemed and used as an example.

A student who simply wielded the raw power and instinctive knowledge to overcome the dark rituals Voldemort had used; well that student is a danger to the natural order of the wizarding world. Thus, Harry Potter was handed his walking papers in the form of a snapped wand and a warning not to attempt to contact the magical community again.

In Harry's expert opinion the entire thing was a load of crap. Yet, all the heartache of being sent back to the Dursley's and away from his friends aside he felt rather optimistic.

Something inside Harry had fallen into place after his connection with Voldemort was severed for good. A final floodgate in his mind had been breached and understanding of the chorus of voices was now paired with comprehension. He had only barely scratched the surface of the knowledge apparently within his mind. The night before had brought about another change in his dreamscape and he had learned the most amazing truths.

In his dreams he could now understand the language of the Chorus fully and he took full advantage of the new ability. He returned to the memory chambers he had previously not been able to understand in hopes of satisfying his burning curiosity. When he finally awoke the following morning he found himself with a headache, and only a vague memory of what he had learned. It was as if something was preventing him from remembering the details he had finally unveiled in his dream.

What he did know for certain was that there was far, far more to life than the magical world knew. Somehow he knew that as he managed to learn, and remember, more of what was already within the halls of his mind he would be able to far surpass anything he could have accomplished in the wizarding world. It was a small consolation for the loss of four-year friendships and the escape from his relatives, but it was a light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

Stepping through the barrier at Platform 9 ¾ into King's Cross felt like a giant leap for Harry. It was a final parting of ways for a portion of his old life and the starting of a new path. He pushed the trolley along until he found himself outside and searching for a taxi.

He needed to get to Gringotts and quickly.

Having let Hedwig fly free from Hogwarts made dealing with a taxi much easier. She could simply meet him wherever he ended up, but would've been a bit hard to explain to a cab driver.

Paying for the ride out of the little emergency muggle currency he kept Harry watched the cab pull away from the Leaky Cauldron. A glance at his luggage brought a sigh as he considered how to handle it. The easiest solution would be to shrink the luggage, but he no longer had a wand and certainly didn't want to alert the Ministry to his whereabouts. Considering the issue for a moment allowed his mind to wonder.

It was true he no longer had a wand, but a nagging sense told him that if he thought about the issue for a moment he would realize something important. Harry blinked as he recalled that he hadn't needed a wand to summon the storm; perhaps he didn't need one now. A passing thought later he waved his hand over his luggage effectively shrinking it and causing him to gasp from the wave of exhaustion that washed over him. He was relatively certain that since he hadn't used a wand the Ministry wouldn't know of his use of magic, but he was also certain he had used a hundred times the magic he normally would have.

Wandless magic wasn't as great as he would've thought. “Maybe it just takes practice,” he considered as he picked up the trunk and put it into his pocket.

Pulling his hood up, he quickly made his way into the pub and out the back into Diagon Alley. Only a glancing look from Tom on his way through indicated anyone had even noticed his passing.

The Alley was nearly empty this late in the day and Gringotts even more so. Not having to wait in any lines Harry quickly found himself standing before a rather surly, even for a goblin, teller.

“Can I help you,” the goblin snapped in a curtly questioning tone.

“I need to have the contents of my vault transferred to a muggle bank. Is that something you can do, or will I just need to close my account here and do it myself?”

The goblin's eyebrows rose. It wasn't every day a filthy wizard wanted to close an account. “It is unusual, but I believe we can make arrangements for a transfer. You say your entire vault is to be moved?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. I'm leaving and the only banks I'll have access to will be muggle. I need it done immediately.”

The mystery of the wizard's request, having lost its intrigue, grew boring for the goblin at the mention of muggles. The sharp-toothed little creature simply nodded curtly and groused out, “Key please.”

Sliding his key across the desk Harry leaned back to wait while the goblin slid off its stool and waddled away.

Harry began to pace slowly back and forth in front of the desk as the minutes ticked away. He knew it wouldn't be a quick process, but he wanted to be done and out of Diagon Alley as soon as possible. Nothing good would come of being caught by the press or a Ministry Employee.

After nearly forty-five minutes the goblin finally returned carrying a large manila envelope. Harry blinked at the sight of a goblin holding such a common muggle item.

Sliding the envelope across the desk to Harry the goblin gave him a piercing look. “All of your vaults and holdings with Gringotts have been liquidated and transferred to the account specified in those documents. If I were you, Mr. Potter, I would consider further removing your assets from the magical world or else interested parties may seek them out.”

Harry blinked before nodding. “Thank you,” he replied concisely before taking his leave of the goblin-run bank for the final time.

Walking quickly through the Alley toward the Cauldron he couldn't help but ponder the words of the banker. “All my vaults? Holdings,” he murmured to himself in contemplation and confusion. There was obviously more than met the eye there. Shaking his head he cleared his mind of banking intrigue and focused on his next problem: where to stay for the night.

The Leaky Cauldron was obviously out and so was the Dursley's. Once they found out he had been expelled they would become unbearable. He still needed to send Sirius a letter, but even then the man was still a fugitive and not likely to be able to provide a lot of assistance.

With a drawn out sigh he stared up at the emerging stars in search of inspiration. It was in that moment that he realized what an idiot he was being. He had money; a lot of money. With no Hogwarts to pay for or school supplies to worry about he was sure to have enough cash to get a hotel room for a night or two.

Interest renewed in his finances saw Harry opening the envelope the goblin had provided. Glancing through the envelope as he exited the Cauldron into muggle London Harry was focused on anything that might help his current situation. Inside were an ATM card and checkbook as well as balance sheets and other paperwork he didn't recognize. What he did recognize, and stared blankly at for a long moment, was his current balance. He had known his vault had a considerable amount in it, but no where near that much.

A quick investigation into the other documents from the envelope revealed that there had been more than one vault to his name. His anger at Dumbledore rekindled for a moment at the thought that the man had been hiding things from him, but it died out equally as fast when he realized how pointless his anger was. Dumbledore was no longer a concern to him, and he couldn't help but feel happy about that.

Now, armed with an ATM card Harry set out to withdraw a few pounds, find a taxi, and rent a hotel room for the night. He had a lot of planning to do and a letter to Sirius to write. The first day of his new life was looking up, and he was ready to face its new challenges head on.

…Early Fall 1995…

“Sirius Black is a dead man” he thought darkly as he stared at the large building before him. There was no way this idea would end well as far as he was concerned and for the life of him he couldn't recall why he agreed to it. With a sigh of defeat he began walking toward the entrance to his new school.

The prior months of summer had lead Harry to a number of the challenges he had predicted. Included among them had been living with his Godfather and not killing the overprotective and slightly childish man. Once Sirius received news of his godson's current situation it was all the teen could do to keep the man from charging in a head-on assault of Hogwarts to maim Dumbledore. Harry still got headaches just thinking about the ones Sirius' temper had created in those early days.

Once he got his overeager Godfather to think for a moment before acting they had begun to make plans. The first thing they both agreed to was the need to leave England. They were both too recognizable and too much of a hot topic. The only question had become where to relocate to. It had been Harry who suggested the United States. His reasoning was simple: sheer numbers. If you wanted to be able to blend in and have the best chance of not being noticed go with the crowd.

Thanks to Sirius' now two years on the run he was able to arrange for discrete transportation to the states. Once there they registered with the U.S. Ministry of Magic, or DoMA - the Department of Magical Affairs. The American's method of government still baffled the two British wizards. It seemed to primarily involve paperwork and not actually governing the magical citizens as much as trying to keep them from scamming the stock market. It was all very confusing.

It still made Harry shake his head at the ease with which they were given American Magical Citizenship.

…Summer 1995…

“You're currently British Magical Citizens correct,” the man who reminded Harry of Percy Weasley asked them from behind the counter.

“Yes sir,” they replied and fidgeted slightly.

Nervous energy filled them as they considered numerous horror scenarios. Sirius being a wanted man in England and Harry being the latest Dark Lord in Training according to the British Ministry was bound to complicate matters. It seemed absurd to answer the form's questions honestly, but they had been spelled to prevent fraud - a detail neither had realized until they had begun filling in the tiny boxes.

The wiry man studied the forms before him. It wasn't often someone actually checked the 'Yes' box next to “Are you a wanted felon in another nation's jurisdiction. If so, explain.” Honestly the man wasn't entirely certain why the question was there, but here was someone who had actually checked yes and answered. To say this lengthened the processing time was an understatement.

Finally after a dozen floo calls and numerous message-planes the issue was resolved with a simple note from the Director of Magical Immigration that stated “As long as they don't screw up the economy or plan to overthrow the government I don't care. Leave me alone.” Shrugging the clerk double checked the questions regarding intent to overthrow the government to confirm the two men's answers.

“Well frankly I can't see any reason not to allow your citizenship transfer. According to our records your explanation, Mr. Black, is accurate. You were never actually tried for your supposed crimes thus you are not an escaped felon by U.S. standards. As for you Mr. Potter even if we considered expulsion from school grounds for expulsion from the magical community the fact that Mr. Black is your guardian would ensure your citizenship as well.”

The two had just blinked at the man. Americans, it seemed, were indeed insane. The all-business little man handed them each an additional form to fill out in order to complete their citizenship transfers. The entire day held a surreal overtone in Harry's mind.

…Late Summer, 1995…

Now, the two as free and upstanding citizens of the United States had begun to settle into their new lives. It was as the summer began to come to a close that Sirius had remembered his Godfatherly duty to Harry and insisted he return to school.

“You can't be…” Harry had begun after his Godfather had told him he had been registered with the local secondary school. His words stopped when he saw the expectant look on the man's face. “I refuse to make that bad pun.” he stated dryly. Sirius' face fell a bit but he simply shrugged.

“Listen Harry you can't just stick your head in the sand and ignore the world. You've got a clean slate here in the states so you might as well finish your schooling. We agree you can't attend one of the major boarding schools, but I can teach you magic. That means you get the rest of your education the muggle way.”

The argument had gone on for days after that. Harry saw no reason for a muggle education and Sirius only became more insistent. The entire thing baffled Harry when he considered the fact that Sirius was as much a wizard as they came. Finally things reached a breaking point and he confronted his godfather's intentions directly.

“No more ducking around the subject Sirius! Why are you so hell-bent on my attending muggle schooling,” he yelled across the kitchen as their latest fight reached crescendo.

Sirius sighed in resignation. He knew the subject wouldn't be dropped this time; he'd played that card too many times recently. “Your doodles Harry,” he replied simply. The marauder had to stifle a chuckle at his godson's bewildered look.

“Huh,” the teen replied in eloquent fashion.

Sirius reached into one of the back pockets of his jeans and withdrew a folded sheet of notebook paper. With a flick of his wrist he tossed the paper across the kitchen to Harry whose Seeker instincts deftly caught the flying object.

Shooting his godfather another perplexed glance Harry unfolded the paper. Drawn on the surface was one of his idle drawings of late. It depicted the various towers and spires of his dreamscape. Looking up from the drawing his confusion showed on his face. “I don't understand.”

“Harry when I saw the detail of that drawing…I realized you have a gift. Those buildings you drew there are amazing. No one in the wizarding world knows the first thing about how to go about building something like that, but in the muggle world you could learn how to bring those doodles to life.”

“Sirius, I…” Harry began. He wasn't sure how to explain that they were just idle drawings.

The older wizard held up a hand that stopped his godson's reply before it had begun. “Harry, listen to me for a moment,” he began. “It doesn't take a Seer to know that you've changed a great deal in the past year. I, for one, believe it's a good change and not the tripe Dumbledore was shoveling about you going dark.”

Harry didn't even know how to respond to the statement. His mind was racing trying to figure out where Sirius was going with this and how it tied into his drawing.

“There are times, Harry, when I look into your eyes and don't see my godson. I don't see the child of my best friend anymore or even a teenage wizard. It's a bit frightening honestly.”

Harry closed his eyes and hung his head. The entire conversation was bordering on a subject that he didn't want to discuss. There was no way he would be able to explain his dreams, or memories, to Sirius. Fear of where things were rapidly heading began to swell in his chest.

“I don't know what changed Harry, but my gut tells me that it's for the better. Whatever gift you've been given,” he said with a gesture toward the drawing, “needs to be used and you can't do that in the magical world.”

Blinking at the twist in what he had expected to hear Harry didn't respond. When the grin on Sirius' face finally registered with the teen he let out an explosive sigh of relief. And that, as they say, was that. The more Harry considered Sirius' words the more he felt an urge to follow them through. The idea of bringing his dreamscape into reality burned into him and created a nearly overwhelming desire. It felt right. So the battle against muggle schooling died and Harry resolutely began moving toward a new adventure in his life.

…Early Fall 1995…

Now as his footsteps carried him into the large muggle building he couldn't help but think this adventure would be a far cry different than Hogwarts had been.

…Spring 1998…

Harry stared blankly up at the night sky from the window in his dorm. He was now in the second term of his first year of Uni, or College as the Americans called it. His studies in engineering were going well, though to be honest most of his first year was consumed by more mundane and less interesting classes. However, it wasn't his studies that drew his attention that April evening.

His eyes stared fixedly at a point in the sky above as if watching for something specific. He didn't know why or how, but he knew that something in the sky above was a threat and a big one. This was just another strange feeling among many that he'd been having lately. Somehow he knew it was connected to his dreamscape. The soft chorus of voices he always heard while wondering the byways of his mind had seemed to direct his attention skyward lately.

Yet it was more than the sense of approaching danger that had caught his attention. In several of his classes he had begun to feel as though what he was learning was wrong in some way; flawed or incomplete perhaps. The problem was that he couldn't put his finger on where the knowledge of the problems was coming from. All in all it was exceedingly frustrating.

Suddenly the spot he had been staring at flashed like a twinkling star before fading away. The sense of danger receded from his mind and he simply shook his head. Whatever it had been was gone now.

…Two Months Later…

Cheers went up from the gathered friends and family of the graduates. Harry smiled with pride at two figures hugging within the mass of graduating students on the stage in the distance. He was glad that he could make it to Ron and Hermione's graduation ceremony. The three had seen very little of each other in the years since Harry left England, but never had they failed to keep in touch.

It had been an uplifting moment for Harry when he received his first letter that August morning. He had all but given up hope that his best friends would continue to support him, but when he woke to find a rather disheveled owl on his windowsill hope burned anew. The letter had only served to truly reignite the dwindling flames of friendship as it proclaimed their continued support of Harry despite Dumbledore and the Ministry.

Nearly the entire Weasley family felt Harry had been wronged and wished him well; the only exception being Percy. The letter had also informed him that many of his classmates, including Neville and Dean agreed that Harry had gotten a raw deal. Their congratulations on his new citizenship and Sirius' freedom only completed the heart-lifting effect of the correspondence.

Now as his friend's seventh year at Hogwarts came to a close he and Sirius had made a special trip to England to attend the festivities. Heavily disguised by both magical and muggle means the entire event has a distinctly spy-esque overtone that had both Harry and Sirius in great moods. It made an excellent end to his summer vacation he thought as he watched his friends hug their families before looking over the crowd for him.

…Early Spring, 2002…

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville sat around a table in the local hot-spot known as the Dixie Chicken. It was in fact far more than just the local hot-spot, but one of the top bars in the United States. The four friends laughed aloud as Neville finished a story about his Grandmother's latest public dressing down of Minister Fudge.

As their laughter settled down Harry lifted his mug to the others and cleared his throat. “A toast! To three friends who crossed the pond to visit!”

The other three young adults cheered before they all took healthy pulls from their drinks. Even Hermione seemed to have relaxed enough to join them in the alcohol consumption.

Ron held up his mug next and said aloud, “To the soon-to-be graduated Boy-Who-Lived!”

Again the friends all cheered and snorts of amusement at Harry's old nickname preceded a round of long drinks. Hermione surprised them all by offering her toast next. “To the four of us; a little thing like an ocean won't stand between our friendships!”

This brought the loudest cheer from the group and each finished off their drinks in a final great gulp. The night continued on as the friends enjoyed one another's company and regaled the others with tales of their new jobs and lives. Harry thought it was the perfect end to four years of school and the closing of another chapter of his life.

…Early Summer, 2002…

Harry sat on the porch of his Godfather's home once again gazing up at the early summer sky. Next to him his godfather sat quietly catching up with his honorary uncle Remus Lupin. They hadn't gotten to see a lot of Remus over the past seven or so years as he was proverbially chained by his supply of Wolfsbane potion.

While the two men discussed current events in England Harry tried to focus on the odd sensation he was feeling. It was as if a part of him, some fundamental element, was longing to be somewhere else. As he considered the feeling he likened it to a great longing; a desire to be at some event of great importance. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it seemed that somewhere there was someone accomplishing something that Harry unknowingly longed to. It was the oddest sensation he had ever felt, and it was taking a great deal of willpower to not just blindly apparate toward the random feeling.

An all-too familiar snort of amusement drew him from his thoughts and turned his eyes on his now smirking godfather. Shrugging off the odd feeling his attention turned to Remus as the older man had apparently asked him a question. “I'm sorry Remus, I was daydreaming. What'd you ask?”

The werewolf gave a faint grin with a sidelong glance and the smirking Sirius before he repeated his question, “I asked what you planned to do with yourself now? I believe you've got a well deserved degree that needs using, but you're just bumming around with your flea-bitten godfather.”

Sirius' indignant “Hey” was drowned out by Harry's chuckles. “I honestly don't know Remus. I've just got this feeling that something's going to come along soon that I won't want to miss. I can't really explain it. Anyway, I only have my bachelors' degree. I have to start on my post-graduate studies now.”

The two older men looked thoughtfully at Harry as he returned his watch to the sky above. Anyone with eyes and a mind knew that Harry had changed greatly over the years. The quiet unsure boy who had first entered Hogwarts had faded away over the course of the Tri-Wizard tournament. In his place was a strong and secure individual who seemed to have an uncanny grasp of the world around him.

In the years they had lived in America Sirius had watched as Harry struggled with a growing sense of frustration. It seemed that his godson's instincts had begun colliding with what he was learning about both the muggle and magical worlds. He often questioned his studies both at school and with Sirius at home. On occasion Harry would fly in the face of conventional wisdom and produce results thought impossible. His amazing accomplishments spanned magical abilities as well as muggle sciences.

Though Sirius never spoke about it aloud he had long ago concluded that Harry was keeping a very large secret. Though his godson usually did very well at hiding the evidence there had been occasional slips. The odd slip of Harry's tongue into a language that couldn't be identified was the most common clue, but there had been others. It seemed to Sirius almost as if the young man lived in an entirely different world at times.

With a knowing glance the two men stood to leave Harry to his thoughts. The far away look in the young man's eyes told them all they needed to know. He was listening to the internal voice that had been just as much his guide in life as his godfather and teachers. Indeed, there were times when Sirius wished he could experience what Harry did just once so he could better understand his godson and the secret he held so close.

…Early Spring, 2004…

Harry groaned as he stumbled out of his bed to the cadence of someone knocking on his door, loudly. A bleary look at the clock on his bedside table revealed it to be only seven twenty in the morning…on a Saturday. His annoyance flared and he bellowed out, “I'm coming! Hold your damn horses!”

Pulling an undershirt over his head and slipping on a pair of nylon soccer shorts he made his way to the front door of his apartment having only stubbed his toes three times. It was a record for an early morning trek through his home. The knocking, or rather pounding, had ended after his yelling, but he had no hope that the guilty party had left. Peering through the peephole revealed an unusual sight.

Two men dressed in what appeared to be blue military uniforms stood on either side of his door. They both sported an air of no-nonsense and professionalism that took Harry a bit by surprise and served to clear some of the morning fog from his mind. Stepping back from the peephole he unlatched the door and opened it slightly.

“Yes,” he asked guardedly. It just wasn't everyday the military turned up on your doorstep.

“Harry Potter,” the shorter of the two men inquired politely, but with an undertone that said 'we know the answer already'.

“Yes, I'm Harry Potter.”

“Mr. Potter my name is Major Paul Davis. I'm with the United States Air Force. May we come in?”

Harry glanced to the second man who was obviously a subordinate to the Major. Noticing the glance Davis spoke up again. “This is Captain Reigns.”

Nodding slightly at the introductions Harry stepped back and opened the door for the two Air Force officers. “Come on in, but you will have to forgive the mess. It's Saturday and I just got back into the country.”

“Don't worry Mr. Potter; we won't be offended,” the Major offered with a friendly tone as he and Captain Reigns entered the apartment. “You said you just got into the country,” he questioned while turning to face the young man after a cursory look over the area.

Running a hand through his hair in an attempt to flatten the sleep-ruffled angles of his already unmanageable hair Harry simply nodded. “Yes. I just completed my Masters before the holidays so my Godfather and I went to spend time with friends in England.”

The Major simply nodded and the three stood by the now closed door in a slightly awkward silence. A small grin played on the Captain's face as he shared a glance with the Major that clear communicated the same thought of, “he's not exactly awake yet.”

It was only another moment before Harry's thought process finally kicked in and he motioned them further into the apartment while asking, “Can I offer either of you anything to drink? I'm going to need a cup of tea if this is going to be a long conversation so it's no trouble.”

“Thank you. Tea would be fine,” replied the Major and the Captain simply nodded.

“Alright, well make yourselves at home on the couch there while I make us a cuppa.”

Harry's mind was racing as he went to work making a pot of tea. “It's too bloody early for mysterious visits from the military,” he mentally groused.

When the tea was finally ready he put the kettle on a serving tray and carried it to the coffee table in the middle of his living room. “There's crème, sugar, lemon and honey,” he said with a gesture to each before serving himself and taking a seat on the loveseat across from the couch the two men were seated on.

After several moments of silence as everyone settled themselves Harry finally spoke up, “So, Major Davis was it, what can I do for you?”

The Major took a sip of the tea before leaning forward slightly. “Mr. Potter let me begin by saying that both the Captain and I have been cleared with full disclosure on the Magical World.”

Harry's eyes shot up in surprise and it took a great deal of restraint to keep the Major from being bathed in hot tea. Weakly coughing to clear the now inhaled tea from his lungs he managed a weak, “excuse me” between gasps.

“Sorry about that, but I felt it best to clear that issue first.”

Harry simply nodded in response.

“Now, as to why we're here; we need your help Mr. Potter.”

Finally over his coughing fit Harry stared at the Major for a moment. “How so?”

“Mr. Potter you're something of a unique individual. You are apparently a highly skilled and somewhat well known wizard, but you also hold a rather impressive knowledge of science and technology. In fact I believe that the Masters Degree you just received was in Mechanical Engineering. That's an impressive accomplishment for only four years of undergraduate and two post-graduate studies. You have also apparently studied Astro and Aeronautical engineering, Civil Engineering, and the basic chemistries that support those fields.”

Blinking rapidly at the depth of knowledge the man had on him Harry sat quiet for a moment. He didn't exactly care for the fact that the military knew so much about him, but he couldn't exactly complain. It wasn't as if he had been trying to keep any secrets.

“Okay, but how does that help? I admit I'm a bit broad studied, but I've only got a degree in one field. As for the magic, well there are a lot of skilled magical citizens in the states.”

The Major nodded. “Mr. Potter I represent not only the United States Air Force, but an international organization that has recently been formed. We believe that you have a unique skill set, and personality, that would be a great asset to us.”

Davis and Reigns exchanged a look for a moment. All three took prolonged sips of their tea as they considered the Major's comments. Finally, Davis set his cup down, cleared his throat, and returned to the subject at hand.

“Now, I'm afraid I can't get into any details unless you sign a Nondisclosure agreement,” he began and held up a hand to halt Harry's instant objection,” but don't worry. You will not be committed in any way. All you'll be signing is an agreement that you will not disclose any information you are given under penalty of treason. As you have been a U.S. citizen for several years now I'm sure you understand. If you decide to help us once you've been briefed then there would be further documents to work out.”

Having said his peace the Major took another sip of his tea and watched Harry. There as a professional aloofness to his expression, but Harry could sense the man's eagerness. It appeared the Major honestly wanted him to agree. After several long moments Harry finally nodded. “Alright, no commitments, but I'll agree to hear you out.”

The Major smiled and with a nod to the Captain a plain brown folder was produced and handed to Harry along with a pen. Setting his nearly forgotten tea on the coffee table he began to read and sign the documents within the folder. It seemed to be a fairly simple, and surprisingly straightforward, document for something the government produced. Nothing said in the briefing could be shared in any way or he would be put into a very small cell in a Federal Prison. A small annotation on one page noted the prison would be one under the direction of the DoMA. Harry signed the papers and handed them back to the Captain.

“Alright, so what's this all about? What exactly do you think I can help you with,” Harry inquired eagerly. There was something about cloak and dagger intrigue that got him every time.

“Let me begin with a bit of a history lesson Mr. Potter. I assure you that everything I have to say is one hundred percent true, and the Captain here is going to provide you documents and photographs throughout this briefing to confirm that.”

Harry nodded as he noticed the Captain pulling a blue folder marked 'Top Secret: Eyes Only' from his briefcase. “Okay…”

“Mr. Potter…” the Major began only to be interrupted by Harry.

“Eh, just call me Harry. Mr. Potter is a mouthful especially if we're going to be here for a while.”

With a grin the Major nodded. “Alright, Harry then. As I said let me begin with a bit of history. In 1928 an American Archeologist and Egyptologist by the name of Langford lead an excavation of a site on the Giza Plateau. It was there that an artifact of then unknown origin was discovered.”

The captain handed the blue folder to Harry who opened it as the Major paused. Inside, on top of what appeared to be a series of documents was a black and white photograph. In the forefront was a man dressed in the typical clothes of the twenties alongside a little girl who was obviously his daughter. In the background, and dominating the photograph, was a giant ring.

“Along with the artifact several capstones were found with unknown writing on their surface. The US Military conducted research on the artifact off an on for a number of years until in 1996 an Archeologist by the name Daniel Jackson deciphered the writing on the capstones.”

The Major's words were almost tuned out as Harry gazed at the picture before him. Something about the artifact locked his consciousness on the image. It seemed so familiar, so right to be seeing it, that it drove him to distraction. A thought in the back of his mind struggled to surface with the name of the artifact he was looking at, but it remained elusively out of reach.

“We now know the device to called a Stargate….” the Major's words died off as he saw the look on Harry's face. It was as if someone has just given the young man the answer to a frustrating question. A sidelong glance at the Captain confirmed that he noticed it too.

Harry continued to stare fixedly at the picture. The word Stargate now echoed in his mind, finally allowing the stray thought to surface. As the name of the artifact came to him finally he spoke it out loud without thinking, or realizing what language he was using, “Astria Porta.”