Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Dragon Age II.

A/N: Okay, I don't normally like putting notes at the top, but I thought that you guys deserved a bit of an explanation that probably won't be happening in story-verse. Here's the way this story works: Forever and ever Harry's realm and Thedas have been linked. There is immigration between the two realms. As it turns out, Hawke's mother was James' cousin. So Hawke and Harry are related in some way, shape, or form. Story starts in the summer after Harry's year three and right before Act III begins in DA2.

The Two Champions

Prologue-

"Messere Hawke, you've a visitor," Bodahn began, an ingratiating smile on his craggy dwarven face.

Hawke groaned. "Really?" he asked as he crawled out from under the covers. "It's the middle of the night; can't they come back at a decent hour?"

"Yes, because emergencies always happen at a decent hour," Anders muttered sleepily even as he curled into the warm spot left by Hawke.

"It isn't really an emergency, Messere, but I thought it was something that you might prefer to address yourself," Bodahn clarified with a small wince.

"Then tell whoever it is to come back tomorrow!" Hawke shouted, and began crawling back under the covers. He swore, the people of Kirkwall seemed to think that he was at their beck and call just because he'd taken out the Arishok for them. It was ridiculous.

"Yes Messere," Bodahn said, and Hawke heard him leaving the room. "He's awfully young to be out alone in the dark in Kirkwall, though."

Hawke's eyes snapped open. He'd only just closed them, but... "What?" he asked flatly. He wasn't about to send some kid out into the streets of Kirkwall in the dark.

"It's just that the boy can't be more than thirteen years of age, Messere," Bodahn answered.

Hawke closed his eyes and let out a groan. "Well, there went my sleep for the night," the Champion grumbled and rolled out of bed. He made certain to take the covers with him.

"Making me suffer too?" Anders asked with a small, sleepy smile that made Hawke's heart skip a beat.

"If I have to be up then so do you," Hawke said with all the cheer of one used to being forced awake at odd hours by his insane friends.

He pecked Anders swiftly on the lips, because who could resist that adorable little smile? then pulled on his robe and made his way downstairs, Anders and his Mabari, Blade, at his heels. There was a boy in the sitting room, pale and shaky and wearing the clothing of an Outrealmer, ratty and oversized. He stood by the fire, the wooden stick that was an Outrealmer's wand held loosely in his hands. A large, black, shaggy dog was settled at his feet, tongue lolling happily.

"Can I help you?" Hawke asked.

The boy jerked in surprise and whirled, his wand coming up to point directly between Hawke's eyes. He dropped both the wand and his gaze with a muttered, "Sorry."

Hawke shrugged. "You just win the dubious honor of being the first person to point a weapon at me today. I doubt that you'll be the last."

"I still shouldn't have... I'm sorry," the boy whispered. His eyes were still down; his trembling had worsened.

Hawke felt like a monster and he hadn't even done anything. "It's fine," Hawke said with a casual wave of his hand. "Not a bad instinct to have in a place like Kirkwall, to be honest. Especially if you're going to be out on the streets in the darkness. Which brings me to the question: You're here at this ungodly hour of the night for a reason, right?" And then promptly felt like a heel for even sounding half so cranky. Really, this was just a kid.

"I..." the boy paused, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The dog at his feet leaned against him and let out a small little whine, and more of the tension left the child. "The short version is that I won't... I can't stay with my Aunt and Uncle, and I needed someplace to stay for the summer, and we're related, so I thought that maybe I could stay with you," he said in a rush.

Anders burst into laughter. "Kid, I think you're in the wrong place," the Mage said through his chuckles.

"No, sir," the boy said, his tone respectful. "I visited the Potter family vault and the Amell name was on the self-updating family tree, and Mr. Hawke was the only name that my... that I thought would be a viable option for taking me for the summer. Other than the Dursleys, whom I've already stayed with and had a falling out with. The tree presented him itself when I asked it."

"Go around talking to trees often, do you?" Anders asked. "Did it have much to say? Because in my experience, they're very close-mouthed."

The child flushed and said quietly, "It was a family tree, sir, and it didn't speak. It merely highlighted Mr. Hawke's name when I asked it my question."

"Anders," Hawke said in quiet rebuke. He wasn't all that familiar with Outrealm magic, but he knew enough of it to know that if the kid said he'd consulted an updating family tree, he probably had. "Outrealm magic doesn't work quite like ours."

Anders let out a small huff of air and when Hawke glanced at him, alarmed, the Mage had a very sulky expression on his face. "Well, as I know nothing of Outrealm magic and Outrealm ways, I suppose I'll go find someplace to be useful. Like my clinic. I'm sure there'll be somebody waiting down there even at this hour. And the Darktowners are always glad for my advice." Anders stormed from the room.

Hawke winced at the sound of the cellar door slamming shut. He supposed it was a good thing that Anders tended to leave his staff right by the entrance, otherwise the Mage would be out and about at this late hour unarmed. Not that Justice was ever truly unarmed, but still. Anders shouldn't exactly be letting the d... the spirit manifest where a Templar could see.

Meanwhile, the child before him looked almost devastated. "I'm sorry," he said, the words a plea. "I... this was a terrible idea. I should... I should go," he whispered. He reached for his trunk, which Hawke hadn't even noticed, and said, "I'm very sorry for disturbing you, sir. You won't see me again. I'm sure I can find a hotel or something to stay in for the summer," the boy threw over his shoulder as he hefted his incredibly massive trunk up by one arm and began to drag it from Hawke's sitting room.

Hawke let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He just knew that he was going to regret this. It wasn't as though he didn't have enough problems of his own; didn't the Maker give him enough to deal with as it was? "Stop," he commanded.

The boy froze and turned back to him, the hope in his bright green eyes painful for Hawke to see. While the color wasn't one he'd ever seen before, the shape and the expressiveness was enough to make him think of dear Bethany. "Sir?" the boy asked, and his voice shook with that same hope.

"Take a seat," Hawke said, and nodded in the direction of one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. "Tell me the whole story, and we'll go from there." He settled himself into his own chair and Blade settled at his feet after giving the other dog a wary look. "Bodahn, I know that it's late, but if Orana could make us some hot tea?"

"Of course, Messere," the dwarf said with a low bow, and left the room. Hawke didn't feel too guilty about it; he knew that Orana had worse in her time than being woken up in the middle of the night for tea. And she would have worse if Hawke burned the manor down by trying to cook.

The child hesitated, then didn't so much settle into his chair as perch nervously on it. His own dog settled at his feet in much the same position as Blade and watched both Hawke and his Mabari, hackles raised. "It all started with..." The boy stopped, then shook his head. "No, wait, my name is Harry Potter."

Hawke kept his voice as gentle as he could, having some idea of how easily startled the boy was. "It's very nice to meet you, Harry Potter. As you likely already know, my name is Serel Hawke." He was going to have to work on the boy's nervousness if he was going to stay here for the summer. Crazy things happened in Kirkwall, after all, and he couldn't have the child losing it if a dragon were to attack or something. Oh, Maker, he hoped he hadn't just cursed them with a dragon attack. The city was still trying to pick up after the Qunari invasion three years ago.

The boy opened his mouth to say something, what Hawke didn't know, but Orana arrived with the tea. She settled the tray on the table between them and Hawke murmured a soft, "Sorry for the trouble," as she poured him his cup and added just the right amount of sugar, and then one for the boy.

"It isn't a problem, m'lord," Orana said, still as nervous as ever she was. He was working with her, but it was slow going. He knew that years of abuse couldn't be undone in a few months of safety. "Sir? Your tea?" she asked softly. The boy started and Orana added, "How much sugar?"

"Oh, whatever's fine," the boy whispered. When she handed him his cup, with more sugar than Hawke would have been able to tolerate added, he said quietly and sincerely, "Thank you."

Orana bowed and excused herself from the room. "Drink some of your tea," Hawke suggested quietly. "It will take some of the chill off," he added, and hoped that it was chill and not nerves that made the boy's hands shake. But deep within his heart he knew that it wasn't.

"Of course, sir," the boy whispered, and sipped at the tea. His hands were still shaking badly enough that Hawke though the tea might spill over, but once he'd taken a sip or two, his hands steadied. All at once the child seemed to relax into the chair, and Hawke let out a soundless sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir," the boy whispered.

"Please, call me Hawke," Hawke begged. The 'sir' made him feel like he was due to be getting grey hairs. Or like he was with Kirkwall's nobility. Neither image was particularly appealing. Hawke was many, many things, but a 'sir' was not one of them. And never would be, if he had his way.

"Yes sir... Hawke," Harry offered. "I had a... I had a pretty okay childhood," the boy finally ventured, apparently willing to begin telling his story now that he'd settled down a bit. "It wasn't exactly what you might say was the best, but it wasn't the worst. My guardians didn't hit me or anything, but they didn't care much for me either. Last year, though, I did something that I don't think they'll forgive me for and I didn't want to chance staying with them this summer. So like I said, it's just a place to stay for the summer that I need."

Hawke's eyes narrowed. He definitely smelled a rat in this. "What did you do that was so unforgivable?" he asked, not sure that he could believe that this timid little thing would do anything terrible.

"Iblewupmyaunt," Harry said so quickly that it took Hawke a moment to puzzle it out.

When he did, he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. "You blew up your Aunt?" he asked, incredulous. "With what?"

"I mean, she turned into a sort-of balloon," Harry clarified awkwardly. "She was insulting... she was saying awful things about my mother, and I just sort of lost my temper. I didn't mean to or anything, it just kind of happened. But I'm still not sorry I did it," Harry added, defiantly.

Oddly enough, it was that spark of defiance that made Hawke feel better about this whole thing. "Good for you," he said with a small grin. When Harry looked surprised, Hawke said, "I'd murder anybody who insulted my mother, so I'm impressed by your restraint."

Harry offered him a shy, sweet little smile, and Hawke was hit suddenly by a sense of possibility. Here was a young child in need of his care. A child who presented a chance to maybe do a better job of looking after a youth than he'd done with his own sibling. A chance to do things right the second time around, as it were. Carver still would barely talk to him and he'd been with the Grey Wardens for almost six years. But this was a new chance, and one that Hawke thought that maybe he could finally do right with.

Hawke just knew that he was going to regret this, but, "Okay, kid, you and your dog can stay."

Harry looked surprised. "Don't you want some kind of proof? I brought the tapestry I mentioned; it's in my bag," the boy offered.

Hawke shook his head. "Look, you're either really my relative, in which case I'm honor bound to look after you. In which case I want to look after you, even. Or, you're a damned fine con-artist, in which case you'll be an excellent addition to my already insane and eccentric band of misfits. One way or another, you and your dog are welcome to stay with me," Hawke said cheerfully. Anders was going to kill him. Then, after a moment's thought, he added, " For as long as you need, not just the summer."

Harry lunged forward and flung his arms around Hawke, quite surprising to the Mage who fought down an instinctive fireball. "Not generally a good idea to startle a Combat-Mage," Hawke pointed out even as he gently patted the boy on the back. Maker, the child was thin.

"Thank you," Harry whispered in his ear.

It was late, after Harry had settled back into his chair and finished his tea, after Hawke had settled the boy into the couch on the study because the only other unoccupied bedroom in the house was currently uninhabitable and filled with his mother's things still, and Hawke was getting ready to blow out the candles and bid the boy goodnight that the boy asked quietly, "What if my dog is really my godfather who's wanted Outrealm for a crime that he didn't commit?"

Hawke froze, the candles in the room partially burned out. He said with a cheer that he didn't really feel, "Then I guess it's a good thing that he's in Thedas and not Outrealm. We don't extradite."

"Oh. Good," the boy said sleepily.

"Harry, is he?" Hawke asked, not really sure he wanted to know. The boy was already asleep, so Hawke turned to the dog. "Are you?" he asked him, grateful that he was Ferelden and was used to treating dogs as though they were intelligent. Otherwise, he might feel like an idiot right about then.

The dog chuffed out a laugh and nodded, his mouth opening and tongue lolling out in a doggy grin.

Hawke closed his eyes and considered how to deal with that. Finally, he settled on, "Right. Did you want a bed, then, or a couch, or are you okay on the rug in front of the fire?" Seriously, he was going to feel like an idiot tomorrow if Harry told him he'd just been playing and the dog was just very well trained.

The dog lay his head back down on his paws and curled up into a ball in front of Harry's couch, Harry's hand tangling in his fur as though the boy was trying to reassure himself that the dog was still there.

Hawke thought it was adorable, and also that it meant that the dog was fine where he was.

He left the room with a headache forming. As he went to bed, he wondered once more if maybe he hadn't made a terrible mistake. And as he dropped back into an uneasy sleep of his own, he hoped that Anders wasn't so surprised that the boy was still there that he killed the child when he came up from the clinic in the morning. Maybe he should have left a note...

A/N: Another new one from me! I know, I know, I have too many works in progress. Alright, guys, same deal on this one as on Dragon Singer. I'll update when it's ready to update. But Heir is still my priority. Also, if anybody's reading this that doesn't know DA2, feel free to PM me and I'll tell you what I can of the story of the game. Or just google it, there's a very comprehensive wiki about it. As always, thanks in advance for reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoy this romp through cannon! And last but not least, further chapters should be mostly from Harry's P.O.V.