Author's Note: It should be obvious, but I must declare that I own no rights to the Harry Potter story or any of its characters. All such ownership belongs to J. K. Rowling. Only characters of my own creation are not hers, and I reserve no rights upon them, so if they catch your fancy feel free to use them.

Chapter Five:

The light from the window was gradually becoming brighter, hinting at the coming of dawn. Harry lay awake in a bed, half covered by a blanket, watching the person sleeping next to him. Her breathing was quiet and she had one arm draped over him and the other under her pillow, mashing it against her head. He sighed, a mixture of apprehension and contentment, as he thought again about last night. He was torn, between how much he genuinely cared about Gabrielle and how much he knew he loved Hermione. If there was one good thing that had come of the dementor, it was the realization he came to as he relived his darkest memories again and again. He loved Hermione.

But he didn't know what to do about it.

Even if he succeeded in going back in time, even if he could defeat Voldemort and saved everyone that the Death Eaters murdered, the Hermione there wouldn't be his Hermione. A person's memories make them who they are. If history changed, she wouldn't have the same experiences, and wouldn't become the same person. She would be a Hermione that looked the same and maybe even acted the same, but wasn't the same. She would be a different Hermione. His Hermione was gone forever. A part of him wanted to weep for the loss of the woman he loved while another part wanted to seize the second chance he would have to be with some version of her. It made him terribly confused.

And then there was Gabrielle.

He didn't know what he thought of the youngest Delacour. She was a kind young woman who had been infatuated with him as badly as Ginny ever was. She had gotten over that phase quickly, when she learned that there was a difference between Harry and the Boy-Who-Lived. Her crush shifted immediately over to Harry, who she claimed was a real hero, and not a fake character from a silly book. Harry wasn't exactly happy with the hero worship, but at least Gabrielle could see the difference between what was fantasy and reality. Unlike most people, who never bothered to see him for who he was.

Gabrielle was the sister of Fleur Delacour, who had been his fellow competitor in the Triwizard Tournament, and that relation also meant that her grandmother was a veela. It was certainly apparent during their lovemaking: the affectionate fire and tender warmth that radiated from her burning wings as they were both embraced by her passionfyre had definitely not been his magic. She had been held as Fleur's hostage at the bottom of the Black Lake during the second task. He rescued her and Ron, who had been his own hostage, when it became apparent that Fleur had been waylaid and was unable to finish. It had been utterly mortifying for the poor girl, to be rescued by her biggest hero. She, like Ginny and so many others, had been enamored with the Boy-Who-Lived. He hadn't seen much of her after that. She had approached him, alongside her sister, to thank him shortly after she recovered, and he had met her briefly on two occasions during the school year. She had also been present for the third task, to watch her sister compete.

That was almost all he knew of her.

Gabrielle, like her sister, was at least part veela. Fleur had revealed her veela heritage at the wand-weighing ceremony when she acknowledged that her wand core was a veela hair, and had been donated by her grandmother. Harry wasn't sure how that all worked out, but Fleur and Gabrielle were at least one-fourth veela. And it showed in more than just her fire. She was sensual and vivacious in her lovemaking. He had never felt so loved or cherished. She had made him feel alive again, after a week of endless nightmares that drowned him in loneliness and sorrow. He would have given up and died days ago if not for his magic forcing him to go on.

He mentally called out his thanks. He had been ungrateful and even angry that his magic hadn't left him alone, but in truth it had saved his life. It had constantly encouraged him to fight against the apathy that afflicted him. And he was grateful, and very sorry that he had been irate with it when it had only been looking out for him.

Never alone. Always loved. It told him. No sadness. All is forgiven.

So it accepted his apologies. That was a relief. He hadn't been in his right mind when he had cursed at his magic for keeping him from death. It would have been awkward if that had been hanging between them. He didn't really feel that he deserved anyone's forgiveness. He had failed everyone that mattered to him. The dementor had shown him that much. He laughed silently at himself for being such a fool, for thinking things would ever be made right.

Stop despairing. Follow chosen path. Will not fail. Will help succeed. His magic said. Again it encouraged him to continue. He shivered at the conviction it voiced. It would not fail him.

His movement must have touched Gabrielle, because she squirmed in her slumber. "Good morning Gabrielle." Harry whispered, staring at her sleeping face. The corners of her lips twitched in a half-smile and she snuggled closer, murmuring contentment at his voice. He leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead.

Burying her face in his chest, she made sounds that could have been words to her still-dreaming mind. "Mon 'arry." She purred, opening her eyes to see if she was imagining things.

Harry looked down at her as she looked up at him. She grinned, pushing herself up and rolling them both over so that she was on top of him. Then she quickly leaned in and stole a kiss before giggling and jumping off the bed. A single blazing feather, with bright red flames, was dislodged from the blankets and drifted to the floor. "Gabrielle." Harry called after her, sitting up and watching her run to the lavatory. He leaned over and picked the feather up by the quill, marveling that the flame didn't spread or burn yet still gave off noticeable heat.

"Yes, mon 'arry?" She asked sweetly.

"Did last night really happen?" He asked, bemused by her antics. He pinched the feather lightly between his fingers and brushed the flame across his nose. It flickered against his skin and smelled strongly of her: a hint of cinnamon and -oddly enough for a being associated so strongly with fire- ocean spray.

"Oui, of course. Was zere any doubt?" She replied.

"Only that I was dreaming it all." He swung his feet off the bed and stretched as she stepped back into the room and sauntered over to him, her hips swaying in a way that drew his eyes. She grinned at him and he smiled back at her, standing up to embrace her. She pressed herself against him and he found his lips on hers again.

"Do 'ou still 'ave doubts?" She asked.

Harry blushed fiercely, but gathered himself to reply. "Oh yes, many doubts." He flirted. "I think I need lots more convincing before I believe it really happened." He leaned forward to kiss her again, enjoying the taste of her lips and tongue.

"Oui, mon 'arry." Gabrielle sighed, breaking the kiss. "I will give you lots of reassurances. But we cannot tarry too long."

"Look what I found." Harry said, holding up the feather.

Gabrielle's eyes focused intently upon the blazing feather and a mischievous smile lit up her face. "Keep it." She suggested. "As a memento of our love, and proof that I have wings!" She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

"Thank you." Harry mumbled into her mouth. He broke the kiss with a sigh, becoming serious. "Gabrielle. We need to talk." He said.

"About 'er?" She asked. "Zee ozzer girl you love?"

"How did you…?" Harry wondered, shaking his head. "Yes. About her."

Gabrielle pouted, but allowed herself to be pulled into his lap as he sat down on the bed once more. "A veela always knows 'er own heart." She said with a touch of sadness.

"It wouldn't be fair for me to keep it from you. Not after what you did for me." Harry said. "I didn't even know how much I really loved her until the dementor tortured me over and over again with the memory of losing her."

A few tears slid down Gabrielle's cheeks. "I knew as soon as you let me into your 'eart." She said softly. "I felt 'er zere in you."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he held her tightly and kissed away her tears.

She sniffed once and relaxed in his arms. "I will not stand between you, 'arry." She said. "But I must ask, 'ou is she?"

"Hermione." Harry whispered.

"Your friend from school?" Gabrielle asked tenderly, remembering the girl who had stood beside him throughout the tournament. "I never zhought she… I am sorry, I knew zhat she 'ad died, and zat 'ou were close. And 'ou didn't tell 'er? About 'ow 'ou felt?"

Harry shook his head sadly. "I never told her because… I didn't even know myself. And now it's much too late and I'll never know if she felt the same for me."

"She was already in your 'eart, 'arry." Gabrielle said. "She could not be zere if she did not already give 'er 'eart to you. Trust zhat she loved you, 'arry." She felt a terrible sadness for him, to have finally found true love, but too late to share it with the person he had taken into his heart. She wondered if Hermione would have taken him into her heart if she was still alive. His love for her would be forever unfulfilled. His pained eyes told her everything, and she didn't know how he could stand it. It would have driven a veela to madness or self-immolation. She offered what comfort she could with her closeness, nuzzling against his neck. Truly, she was amazed that he had room in his heart for her as well. She was grateful for that. It was like an anchor to her, keeping her from drifting too far into the dispassionate melancholy that had already taken so many veela. She would have likely followed after Fleur in another week otherwise.

It had been her debt to Harry that held her back. Now that it was repaid, she had expected to be drawn into despair and succumb to her own passionfyre. But that wasn't happening. Harry hadn't offered his heart to her as she had to him. She had felt enough of his heart to know that he probably couldn't sacrifice a part of himself so easily. He had suffered too much hardship to open himself up to that kind of hurt. He barely knew what love was. He had no trouble accepting the love others offered him, but he couldn't truly love them in return. He always held himself back. But then with the dementor things had changed. He finally recognized his feelings for Hermione and his heart was held out to her, but she was dead and would never be able to accept what he offered. And that had hurt him as badly as if she had rejected him outright.

Gabrielle closed her eyes, wishing he could offer his heart to her. She wouldn't hesitate to take him into hers. Despite the incompleteness of their bond, she was not being driven to self-immolate. Feeling for the piece of her heart inside Harry, she could see why. He held her like nothing else mattered in the world. She was held so tightly inside his heart that she felt the crushing weight of his need for her. He was desperately clinging to the piece of her heart like a needful child starved of all affection. And she realized that he had been such a child. He cherished the love she gave to him, as if it was the most precious thing he ever received. And that need for her held her back from falling into the melancholy.

She smiled up at him. "I will be zere for you." She vowed. "For as long as you need me."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Mon père!" Gabrielle said, rushing forward and embracing her father with a hug that nearly knocked him from his chair. Harry followed her into the dining room, where Ansgar and Snape were already eating breakfast with Gabrielle's father. Gabrielle began a rapid conversation in French with her father, who glanced meaningfully at Harry during their exchange. Harry could guess at what they were discussing and blushed under his scrutiny. He had gleamed only a little from Gabrielle before they left the suite. He had been brought in yesterday, late in the afternoon. He had been very sick because of the dementor, and not expected to survive the night. The seemingly insane plan to bring him here had been a conspiracy between Ansgar and his magic, with the intention of having him bond with a veela to drive out the taint from the dementor. He still found it very awkward that Gabrielle's father knew what they had been doing last night.

Harry stammered out an introduction. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Delacour."

"And you, Harry." Jean-Baptiste replied, breaking free of his daughter and offering his hand. "Please call me Jean."

"Thank you for your hospitality." Harry said, shaking the man's hand. "And for everything your family's done for me. I owe my life to your daughter. I would have succumbed to the dementor's taint if not for Gabrielle. If there is anything your family needs, and it is within my power to grant, you have only to ask it of me and I will do all that I can to repay you." He formerly acknowledged the debt he felt he owed.

"Nonsense." Jean-Baptiste said as diplomatically as possible. He hadn't realized that Harry was ignorant of the life-debt his family owed to the boy for saving Gabrielle, and he didn't want to imply that they had only saved him because of their debt. He would have done all in his power to help Harry even if there had been nothing between them, though he may have been more hesitant to allow his daughter to give herself to him. "It was us who owed you a debt, Harry, for saving my daughter during the second task."

"What?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. "But no one was at risk. Dumbledore insured that the hostages were perfectly safe. All I did was retrieve her from the lake a little sooner than she would have been otherwise."

"Non, Harry. She would have died. Magic itself recognizes life-debts between two people, and it cannot be deceived. There was a debt owed -and a full debt at that- therefore we can only conclude that she would have died." Jean-Baptiste was deathly serious, and Harry blinked in surprise.

"How can that be? I thought they were protected!"

Gabrielle, seated at the table sipping orange juice, cocked her head back at Harry. "Veela… we are creatures of fire. Being at zee bottom of an ice cold lake in February was very dangerous. If my magic 'ad reacted to the 'ostile surroundings, zee stasis charm would 'ave broke and I would 'ave drowned. But zere was no way out of zee situation. Zee Goblet of Fire chooses zee 'ostages for each champion. I 'ad no choice but to participate. And 'ostages 'ave died in the past." She explained. "If I 'ad been in zee lake anozzer few minutes… I would not 'ave come out alive. So yes, zere was a debt between us."

Harry came to a horrible realization. "Then all of this was because of the debt? Because you were compelled? I'm sorry Gabrielle. I didn't mean to-"

"Non 'arry!" Gabrielle interrupted. She felt him loosening his need for her, trying to set her free from what he believed he forced her into. She all but threw herself from her chair and embraced him.

"-do this to you." Harry finished, staggering as Gabrielle wrapped herself around him.

"Do not let me go! I will die." She begged. Instantly she felt his heart cling possessively to the piece of hers inside him, and he was once again her anchor. She sobbed lightly. "I am sorry, mon 'arry. I should 'ave explained." He brought his arms up around her, holding her tightly until she relaxed. "I need you, 'arry. Zee veela are dying. We are leaving zis world. Wizzout children zere is nozzing for us. Our own fire consumes us. You hold me in your 'eart. It keeps me from fading away like ma sœur, Fleur. If anyzzing, I still owe you a debt."

Harry shook his head. "I won't accept that." He said to her, and then looked to her father. "I stand by my offer."

Jean-Baptiste nodded in thought. "Then, as repayment, I ask that you forever cherish and love my daughter. Let the bond between you be of the truest love and never go unfulfilled."

"I will." Harry said, leaning down to press his lips against a startled Gabrielle, who melted into the kiss. "Never doubt it for a moment." He said, staring into her eyes. She grinned at him, and his burdens felt lighter in the radiance of her smile.

"Ma fille précieuse!" Appolline Delacour entered and rushed to embrace her daughter, stealing Gabrielle away from a pleasantly bemused Harry.

"Ma mère." Gabrielle hugged her mother back. "Mon 'arry gave me wings!"

Appolline blinked. "'e didn't!" She exclaimed.

"Show 'er, 'arry." Gabrielle told Harry, who pulled the still brightly blazing feather out. He had no idea what significance it had, but it was apparently quite important. "See?" Gabrielle smirked and turned to Harry. "Zat is zee proof of our love. As long as it burns, our love is true."

Harry suddenly knew just what to say. "Then it will burn forever and ever."

XXXXXXXXXX

They spent a further five days at the Delacour residence, while Harry rested and recovered from his ordeal. Appolline was thrilled that her last daughter had forged a bond strong enough to keep her from fading away. They spent the days in leisure. Harry was dragged by Gabrielle to the paddock to learn to ride a horse. Her own mare was a gentle old girl who absolutely loved oats, which Gabrielle cleverly hid away in Harry's pocket. The horse instantly loved him when he pulled them out. After a few lessons they went for a short ride, with him sitting behind Gabrielle in the saddle. She held the reins, guiding the horse along the path. It was all he could do to stay in the saddle, sitting astride the horse.

Finally it was time to leave. Gabrielle would be coming with them. The Delacours gave heartfelt goodbyes to their daughter, and there were many tears shed. Ansgar had been in contact with his friend and arranged transport back to England. They we met at a small airport about an hour away from the Delacour estate.

Commodore Benson was once again there to personally escort them, this time aboard a military airplane. "I knew something bad happened when you didn't make it back to the helicopter." He told them. The airplane accelerated and Gabrielle shrieked as it took off, gripping Harry's arm tightly. Benson chuckled at her reaction.

"It got very intense for a little bit." Ansgar nodded. "But we made it through in one piece."

"I'm glad you're alright." Benson said. Turning to Gabrielle he asked. "You're Gabrielle?"

She nodded, still clinging to Harry's arm. "Oui."

"Don't worry. We're perfectly safe. These airplanes have so many redundancies that failure is almost impossible. And it's a short trip. We'll be down on the ground before you know it."

She nodded at him, thankful for the reassurance.

Benson's phone rang and he glanced at it with a frown. Excusing himself he stepped into the cockpit and took the copilot's seat for some privacy. Since they were flying close enough to Paris to see the city, Harry helped Gabrielle get over her fear by getting her to point out the landmarks. They flew just east of the city, heading north.

"I know that one." Harry said.

"Oui 'arry. Everyone knows zee tower." She shifted to sit more in his lap. "Zat is zee Avenue des Champs-Élysées." Gabrielle said, touching the window and tracing the long road with her finger. "And zat is zee Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile." She pointed.

He glanced at the arc and then at her. "Beautiful." He said, staring into her eyes.

"Zee arc or moi?" Gabrielle asked sweetly.

"Both." Harry replied, his gaze never wavering. "But I find you more enchanting." He paused. "And more lovely." She smiled at him. "And more gorgeous." He said with a grin.

She swatted his arm playfully. "Mon 'arry. You are a flirt. But you give adorable compliments." He decided that she wouldn't mind and promptly stole another kiss. As with all of his attempts over the past five days, she already knew what he was about and was ready for him. She giggled and kissed him back, and he was immensely pleased with himself for seemingly no reason other than that he was kissing a girl that he loved as much as he dared. They broke off after only another minute of snogging and returned to the sights. "Zat is…" Gabrielle cut off as Benson burst back into the cabin.

Harry could instantly tell that something was very -very- wrong. Benson, who had been perfectly composed at all times, was completely ashen. He all but collapsed into his chair as he clenched his hands tight enough to draw blood with his fingernails. He wasn't the only one to notice. Snape was watching the commodore with barely disguised wariness.

Benson spoke, his voice shaky. "They… the stupid bastards actually did it. You've all been out of the loop for a while, but things have gotten a lot worse in the last ten days. There's been worldwide rioting and looting. People refusing to continue working, or participating in mass suicides, are just the start of our problems. Pakistan lost control of its nuclear stockpile to a bunch of militant extremists about a week ago. They've been preaching about failing to uphold god's law and the sterility being god's wrath and they've declared what they're calling 'The Last Jihad' on the rest of the world. As of three minutes ago the extremists in Pakistan instigated a nuclear exchange with India." The cabin was silent as everyone digested this news.

"But if it's been known about for a week, why didn't anyone do something to stop them?" Harry asked. "It seems ridiculous to just let it happen."

"Don't get self-righteous with me! I know all too well how bad this is! But there wasn't anything to be done." Benson snapped. "Half of their military went rogue. The other half left and went home to their families. We could have sent in our forces, but we wouldn't have been helping the legitimate government fight insurgents, we would have been an invading force fighting against an organized military. And that would have had the locals against us and their more progressive leaders siding with the extremists. It would have provoked the very thing we would be trying to stop. And by then the militants already had control of the nukes, even if they didn't have the ability to launch them." He sighed. "If we tried to forcibly disarm them, the politicians would have given the militants the access codes to the nuclear arsenal. Instead we offered asylum to any government officials who were at risk, and got them and their families out of the country. Everyone with launch codes was evacuated. The militants shouldn't have been able to launch. This isn't our fault. The situation over there is what it is, and has been for fifty years. We didn't do anything to cause this."

"And that's the problem." Harry snarled back. "Nobody did anything; they just let it happen." Gabrielle squirmed on his lap until she could wrap her arms around him, giving him a firm hug and whispering a question in his ear. He calmed himself and answered her. "It's a muggle weapon that is unbelievably powerful. Even the smallest nukes make an explosion of heat and light so intense it kills everything within tens of kilometers instantly, and causes a shockwave of force to destroy everything within half again that distance. Then it leaves a radioactive residue in the air and on the ground, which is sort of like a poison that causes massive damage to the body depending on the amount and duration of exposure, and even if you survive that, it can cause a whole slew of diseases in the long term. Sixty years ago they could destroy most of a city with a single weapon, but now they are much more powerful. A handful of nukes could destroy the whole country. If Pakistan and India had a nuclear exchange, they would have fired hundreds of nukes. And the radioactive pollution will spread all over the world and kill a lot of people."

Benson nodded, somewhat subdued. "They had over three hundred missile contacts on satellite track when I got the call, but the first few will have hit by now. It'll take another fifteen minutes before the furthest targets will be hit. But if they are staggering their launches it could take another hour, or maybe longer, before the active arsenals are expended. They probably won't hold back, under the assumption that they won't be able to retaliate after they're hit."

Ansgar was agitated. "If they took over less than a week ago, they couldn't have had launch capability so quickly. The system is designed so that if a failsafe is tripped it scrambles everything until a cypher is entered. Only three people had the full cypher, and another ten people, three generals and seven politicians, had one part of the cypher each. Pakistan refused to disarm completely and wouldn't allow for the chance that their nuclear arsenal could be disabled as a preempt to an attack. Any four of the ten who had parts of the code could have disarmed the failsafe, and any of the three who had the whole thing could have done the same. But none of them would have. Not willingly." Ansgar stated with a frown. He was a rocket scientist, and had spent a year modifying the guidance systems for those very missiles under a disarmament treaty enforced by the United Nations. He felt ashamed for his part in that, even if his modifications were meant to stop exactly this sort of thing from occurring. "There are too many failsafe's in place for this to just happen. The Americans insisted on that as a condition of their foreign aid. The militants would have either needed inside help or would have had to replace the guidance systems in the rockets. They could never have gotten the launch codes without a traitor and couldn't have targeted anyone otherwise. I know this. I helped design the failsafe." He stared at his friend. "So Harry's question is plenty legitimate. There was time to act, but nobody did."

"Because nobody wanted to send their people to die in another goddamn war!" Benson said. "We've spent too many lives already by getting involved in conflicts we had no place in. Why waste resources to deal with what was seen as someone else's problem."

"It's everyone's problem now." Ansgar pointed out.

"I know that!" Benson replied, shaking his head and sighing. "I'm sorry, alright? The world's going to hell and people are losing hope. There's been no progress on finding a cure, and even the really abstract solutions aren't making headway. There's a bunch of genetics firms on the other side of the pond trying to give us another generation by using artificial insemination, but the fetus is miscarried every time. And keep in mind; they've done this before with success for couples that had trouble conceiving. They know what they're doing. But it isn't working. And we've heard absolutely nothing from the magical community, aside from you three. The rest of them have completely closed off contact with us. We don't know what's going on and to be honest I don't expect any good news to come from that direction."

"So what's going to happen now?" Ansgar asked. "Are we going to lose your support?"

Benson shook his head, reading through situation updates on his phone. "I owe you too much to fold on you. Besides, I think you're about to get a lot more help thrown at you."

Gabrielle looked up at him. "Oui?" Harry caught her eye and then looked at Benson, waiting for an answer.

"We've had a change in plans. We're going to see Her Majesty, the Queen."

XXXXXXXXXX

Snape was agitated, and he showed it by glaring at everyone they passed in the hall. They had been kept waiting for two hours after they arrived, due to the emergency session of the British Parliament. All of them had been subjected to a thorough search, to ensure that they carried no weapons. The Yeomen of the Guard had even taken their wands. They were just now being led to a room where they would be seated to await the Queen. Buckingham Palace lived up to its legacy as a beautiful piece of history and culture. The interior decor was exceedingly British in a way that exemplified how much American and mainland European ideals had crept into Great Britain in the last fifty years. The very halls were steeped in tradition: history had been made in those rooms, the famous and the powerful had admired the paintings upon those walls, and the rulers of nations had tread upon those carpets.

Snape hated it all with passion. It was so blatantly mundane. It was everything he had left behind when he went to Hogwarts. Magic was his life, his future, and now it was gone and all that was left was a bitter past and memories better left forgotten. This place reminded him of too much that he would rather not recall. He sighed as they passed through the doors leading to a meeting room, a guard standing vigilantly to either side of the entryway. A tray of refreshments had been set upon the table, and he took a glass and poured himself some water from a pitcher before he took a seat. Gabrielle, Harry, and Ansgar sat to his left, and the muggle abstained a seat in favor of standing nearby.

Benson was still a mystery to him. The man was at once both easygoing and hardline in his manner, a contradiction that shouldn't be possible. He had two personas that he maintained; one professional and one private. It was clear that Ansgar knew his private self, and just as clear that his professional side disapproved of them acting friendly in this environment. Snape enjoyed watching the man struggle with himself. His entertainment ended quickly as the doors opened once again and a guard stepped in. Ansgar had coached them on the proper greeting already, and they stood as the guard announced her arrival.

"Her Majesty, the Queen." The guard said before stepping aside as an elderly matron walked in wearing a light pink dress. Another mundane, a thick man in an exceedingly well tailored suit, followed in just behind her. The guard then left and shut the doors behind him, leaving only the two standing guards behind to protect Her Majesty and the man in the suit. There was no mistaking her. This was the Queen, and she carried herself as such.

They bowed their heads to her and murmured. "Your Majesty." The only difference between them was that Gabrielle curtsied instead of bowing.

She glanced over them, and Snape was sure they made a less than impressive sight. He and Harry wore muggle street clothes, and Ansgar wore a pair of jeans and a flannel jacket. The only one who looked fit to meet the Queen was Gabrielle, who wore a pretty viridian dress. The Queen nodded once at them and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. She looked harried, but determined. Only then did they resume their seats.

Snape mentally went over the rules of etiquette. Not to speak unless spoken to, and refer to Her Majesty as Ma'am after the initial greeting. Snape also made a mental note to pray that she hadn't taken offense at the private war wizards have been waging across her nation for the last six years, or the countless mundane deaths caused by Voldemort's forces, or the imminent extinction of the human race that he set in motion, or… who was he trying to fool? She had every right to be furious with them.

She sighed wearily. "I've been informed that you intend to go back in time to stop this nightmare before it started. And that you, at least, are convinced that you have a chance." She glanced at Commandant Benson. "My advisors trust your judgement in that regard. So I will be throwing the full weight of this government behind your efforts. Mycroft." She said, turning to the man in the suit. "Make it so."

"Yes Ma'am." The man said, eyeing them with careful scrutiny.

The Queen continued, glancing at each of them in turn. "I still find it hard to believe in magic, and I won't pretend to understand what madness led your people to destroy your world, but I won't allow it to take ours as well. Not without a fight." She fixed her gaze on Harry. "I want an oath from you. I need to know that you will do everything you can to save my people."

A glance at Harry was all he needed to know that the boy intended to give her an oath. Snape couldn't stay silent at that. "Remember that in magical oaths it is intention that matters, not words. Your words need only reflect what you mean to promise."

Harry nodded and stood slowly, and Snape thought the guards might have tensed in their corners. Harry held his palm over his heart and spoke clearly. "I swear on my life's blood and my blood's magic that I will do right by you in return for your aid. I will do what I can to safeguard your people from Voldemort. And because there is no possible justice for his sins, I will seek vengeance upon him for the deaths he has wrought. So mote it be." A golden aura surrounded him as he completed the oath, shining brilliantly in the room as magic whipped around him. It faded after a few moments and the magic settled down.

The Queen had gasped at the display and her advisors appeared shocked. "That shouldn't be possible." Mycroft said. "You can't work magic in the Queen's presence."

"Huh?" Harry said to prove himself a dunderhead, and Snape pinched his brow in frustration.

"I've never seen it before." The Queen said.

"What?" Harry asked, trying to be polite despite his awkwardness. Gabrielle put her hand on his arm and squeezed, finally shutting him up. At least she could reign in his social folly.

"Magic." Her Majesty said. "I don't think I really believe in it. It's hard to put faith in it when you can't ever see it." She explained. "No matter how many times you're told that it really exists."

Harry looked at Ansgar, who shrugged, and then to Snape, who rolled his eyes. "There exists amongst the human population a subset of people who, like magicals, are born but rarely from mundanes. They are a sort of anti-magical; no magic can affect them and their very presence is destructive upon nearby magic. Any magic near them just sort of… unravels." He explained. "The Queen must be one of them."

"Indeed." The Queen said with a smile.

"It's a trait that follows bloodlines, though is manifests only rarely." Snape said.

Mycroft took pity on him and explained. "Most of the higher tiers of nobility, including the British Royal Family, are bloodlines that were founded by an… anti-magical, as you call them. Such people were sought after for their ability to dispute and counteract magicals, and quickly rose to positions of authority and influence because of their value to mundane society."

"The magical world likes to pretend such people do not exist, but in the past has worked together with these families to ensure peace between the realms." Snape finished.

Harry looked shocked. "I had no idea."

"That much was clear." Snape muttered.

"But it doesn't explain how he was able to work magic in Her Majesty's presence." Mycroft said. "And that is quite concerning. Almost all of our security regarding your people was based on the premise that our anti-magicals could counter your abilities. If that is no longer the case then we have lost our only advantage."

Snape shook his head. "It could be that the same judgement that is stripping us of our magic is removing your anti-magic." He suggested.

"It isn't anything like that." Harry said. Snape wondered what he was hearing, as he was obviously conversing silently with his magic. "It's because my magic is free. It can do things that no other magic can. It bends the rules."

Mycroft sighed. "Be that as it may-"

"Enough." The Queen said to him, silencing him instantly. She then turned to face Harry. "I accept your oath and I thank you for giving it. You have the support of the British government. See that you make use of it."

All he could do was nod.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry was more than a little intimidated by the Queen. She had always been held in such high regard throughout his childhood that he carried over much of that deference upon meeting her. He ended up leaning on Gabrielle for support, being utterly clueless as to what he should do or say and not wanting to embarrass himself or anyone else by doing something wrong. Gabrielle seemed to have herself well under control, and took the entire meeting in stride. They spent an hour discussing what they were doing to prepare, and what he would do when he succeeded. There was a small argument that developed because the Queen wanted her government to have a hand in planning his mission while Harry wanted autonomy. In the end he won the argument because he was the only one who could make the temporal alchemy work. He did agree to pass along a message to them, much like the goblins had insisted in exchange for their help.

After that the Queen left, and Mycroft and Benson debriefed them on what resources they were offering. Everything from transportation and security to training and procurement; literally anything they needed that the government could provide was being offered.

They made a wish-list of the most critical items and exchanged it for contact details from Mycroft before he left, some three hours later. Benson explained that Mycroft was something like a combination of a civil servant and a personal aide to the crown, and had been for almost two decades. Mycroft was reserved, but sincere in his desire to help them. They spent the night in guest rooms provided by the staff, and left for Ansgar's workshop the next morning.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry spent the next three months in an intensive training regimen. Jean-Baptiste Delacour had acquired an extensive library over his life, and had inherited an even larger collection from his wife's father. Several hundred books and papers were sent as a gift to aid in Harry's training, along with frequent visits from the man himself -as an excuse to visit his daughter- and a few of his older Auror friends from the continent. The British Aurors had all died in the war, but the French and Dutch wizards provided competent instruction and had experience to back it up.

Despite the handicap of not being able to use magic, the Aurors taught him well enough. Harry was still learning how to work with his magic to cast spells. It allowed itself to be pulled and shaped by him to perform the casting, but was also very temperamental and often petulant about answering his call. He did discover that even when it refused him, he could still perform simple magic. A 'lumos' {lighting charm} or an 'inhabilius' {fumbling jinx} were within his capabilities, but spells that used a lot of magic or required more complex actions to cast were beyond him. When using his magic he had to use a wand, and had adopted Dumbledore's as his own since his was destroyed. But when his magic was being uncooperative and he experimented with his unexplainable ability to keep using magic in spite of having none, he found that while he could use the wand to cast the lighting charm, it wasn't needed and didn't make it any stronger.

Ansgar and Harry debated endlessly about why he was still partially able to use magic even when his magic refused him. The best guess was that all of the magical essences he had absorbed had somehow changed him. By freeing his magic he was no longer a wizard, and by fate or happenstance he was no longer entirely human either. Dumbledore and Flamel's work on alchemy was another topic of study between them. Ansgar had converted his runic array into a series of equations and had Mycroft running them on a few supercomputers, plotting out the most stable configuration, so they had nothing better to focus on while they waited. Harry learned a lot about how magic and alchemy worked.

The branch of magic wizards called transfiguration wasn't anything of the sort. Instead of actually altering something, transfiguration imposed an illusion upon reality. It changed how something was perceived and used magic to force it into existing that way. But the universe resists such change. A sort of checksum existed whereby reality reasserted itself and broke through the illusion, dispelling the transfiguration. True transmutation worked by overpowering this checksum effect through massive amounts of magic so that the universe simply gave up trying to fix it and accepted it as it was, making the illusion real. After that, so far as the universe was concerned, the transfigured object had always been that way, and it would resist change from that new state of existence. Conjuration worked in much the same way: though it was much harder to bring into existence, it was also much easier to make permanent or maintain over time.

Alchemy by contrast attacked the checksum mechanism and hijacked it, befuddling the universe into believing that the object was out of its natural state and triggering the correction mechanism to 'revert' it to its proper form. Alchemy didn't require magic from the wizard, because the universe provided the energy instead. But as Flamel had warned them, equivalent exchange mattered when using Alchemy. The energy the universe expended on the alchemy had to be repaid, least the universe call in the debt at an inconvenient time, and although magic was a form of currency it wasn't the only one that could be used. It had shocked all of them to learn that Flamels' famous elixir of life had made Nicolas and Perenelle both squibs. The elixir had allowed them to retain their youth forever but at the cost of their inherent magic. While they had access to the elixir they healed unbelievably fast from any wound that didn't instantly kill them and didn't age beyond the moment they first drank it. If they stopped drinking it, they would begin aging again after only a few months, but their magic would not return for many years, if it ever did. There was some question as to whether it would, and if it would be as strong as it was before imbibing the elixir. They had all access to all the gold they could ever need to perform ritual magic, but normal means of using magic were no longer possible for them. The Flamels, being master alchemists, had found a clever solution to their problem. They alchemized their own lifespans to gain the magic needed to cast a spell.

Every spell either of them used would age them a few seconds, or a few minutes, or even a few hours for the stronger magics. Had Voldemort gained the stone in Harry's first year, and used it to resurrect himself, he would have been nullified as a threat. It was funny to think about the Dark Lord being stuck without magic for several years. It may not have lasted forever, but it would have been more than long enough to capture and destroy him. Harry felt the briefest pangs of regret that he had stopped the Dark Lord from gaining the stone. Had he known the depth of the trap set by Dumbledore, he would have allowed Voldemort to walk into it. Even if the Dark Lord had managed the same feat of alchemy that the Flamels had, he would have died from old age within a few years, simply from the ridiculous amount of magic he constantly used.

Harry's personal project was intended as a means of counteracting the dementors. He was trying to design a runic array that reproduced the effect of a patronus. Harry figured out a method of having small runic chains merge vectors to draw significantly more power into the array, but the chains were too large to easily fit on an object that could be carried. Ansgar suggested using mundane technology to carve the runes smaller and more precisely than could be done by hand. Harry agreed to try it out and had already acquired wood to build a staff for the purpose of channeling the array. The heather wood was carefully stripped down, leaving one end heavier than the other. The rough staff was then taken to a muggle university where a scanning tunneling electron microscope was used to carve the runic array into the wood. It would take several weeks to complete the first three chains and almost a month to carve the main array.

Gabrielle had attached herself to him and made herself a part of Harry's routine. She ensured that he ate, even when he was engrossed in his work, and dragged him off to bed for rest each night. She was also an accomplished witch in her own right, and her advanced study of arithmancy allowed her to contribute to his work. She spent the evenings teaching him French while trying to convince him to make love to her. She succeeded more often than not.

Harry continued to pursue his animagus forms, and the meditations had become so easy with practice that he could now close his eyes and delve into himself within moments. The forest clearing that represented his mindscape had not changed much. He did have two new occupants: an enflamed avian that was a veela and a shadowy apparition that was a dementor fought on the shore of the pond. Their battle was a constant struggle that gave him a headache every time he entered this place within him. The veela threw fire and poured out intense heat even as the dementor sucked the warmth from the air and gave off pulses of bitter cold. After being hit by a stray fireball during one of his ventures into himself, Harry had had enough and said as much to the embattled spirits.

"Enough!" He shouted. "This ends now!" He was, after all, somewhere within himself. He had some measure of control over the place where all of the essences gathered inside his mind and soul. With a wave of his hand, the water of the pond rose up and crashed down upon the dementor, whereupon the dementor's own power froze the water solid, trapping it within the ice. The dementor let out a raspy cry of frustration, but couldn't break free. Then another wave of his hand threw up a wall of mud from the shore of the pond, covering the veela from head to foot and snuffing out its fire. The veela shrieked and focused on him, but when it tried to burn him the heat dried out the mud and hardened it into clay, imprisoning it within a mound of earth. Both creatures screeched their indignation, but Harry was unmoved. "I won't tolerate any more of this nonsense! Stay put until I decide otherwise." He told them before he returned to the waking world. He didn't see the fox watching with interest from the edge of the clearing.

During a weekend trip to visit Godric's Hovel Harry brought up his attempts at achieving his animagus forms. The founder's reactions startled him.

"You have a magical animal as your animagus form?" Rowena repeated herself in disbelief.

"Several, actually." Harry said. "I've been trying to work towards them through meditation, since I don't have the potion to cheat and a brilliant witch once told me that the potion forcing the first transformation was probably the reason wizards only had one form, since the druids were known to be able to shift into more animal shapes long before the potion was discovered. If I achieve it naturally I might be able to do the same."

"You mustn't!" Salazar exclaimed. "If you do complete it you'll be trapped in that form forever. You won't be able to change back. Potion or no potion, it wouldn't matter."

"What!?" Harry demanded.

"It's something that happens when an animagus becomes a magical creature. They must shed their human form forever in order to become their animal, and if they do so then they are stuck." Rowena explained. "We know from experience." She grimaced.

Harry blinked at her. "Really?"

Godric coughed lightly. "Godric Giles Fawkes Gryffindor, at your service." He said simply.

"You mean…" Harry trailed off.

"Yes." Salazar said. "The school phoenix is actually Godric in his animagus form. He has been trapped as Fawkes for almost a thousand years. He was the one who helped you down in the Chamber of Secrets."

"That changes things." Harry said sadly, shaking his head. "My animagus forms would have been a huge advantage; one that I was hoping to master before I go back. Would being a listener affect that?" He asked hopefully.

Helga shook her head. "I don't know of any that were in your situation. Being a listener and having a magical animagus is a unique occurance. And having more than one magical animagus is another besides. Who can say how it would work out? But I caution you all the same against trying. You remain the only hope for a chance to right the wrongs that have befallen the world. I would not squander it by rushing into this."

Harry nodded at her advice. "I do have a non-magical animagus form: an albino fox." He said. "Hopefully I can at least take that shape, so all my efforts to achieve an animagus transformation won't have been wasted." He sighed and made to leave.

"Before you go, you should know that it is possible to achieve a partial transformation: to take a part of the animal without taking the whole of it." Rowena explained. "It isn't really my area of expertise, but that might allow you to use some of the creature's abilities without becoming trapped in their form."

"I'll look into it." Harry promised before he left.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry was in Ansgar's workshop attempting to design his own runic array when the post was delivered with a package for him. He looked at the large brown box curiously, wondering who it could be from. His magic came forth and wrapped itself around him comfortingly, and not a little protectively, setting him on edge. If his magic was concerned, he should be too. He opened the package to find a letter and a small wooden box. Opening the letter he began to read, only to collapse into his chair.

" 'arry!" Gabrielle shouted, rushing to his side. "Wat iz it? Are you alright?"

"Aleksei… he's dead." Harry said, letting himself cry in her arms. "He said that with Voldemort dead his part was… was finished." He paused, unsure how to say it. "Aleksei killed himself. This is his farewell." He threw the letter on the table and stood up, holding Gabrielle tight against his side. "He says he keyed me into the enchantments and sent me his pistol as a parting gift, along with instructions for making the bullets." He carefully lifted the smaller box out and opened it to reveal the dark colored steel of the masterwork artifact. This pistol was the pinnacle of the Zolnerowich family's craft. It represented over a thousand years of smithing talent and enchanting knowledge. It was an heirloom and a showpiece used to exemplify their expertise and the proficiency of their art. Aleksei's great-grandfather had made two of the guns, though one was lost and presumed destroyed. His work had yet to be surpassed.

"I'm so sorry, 'arry." Gabrielle said softly. "I'm sure 'e knew wat you were trying to accomplish and only wanted to 'elp you 'owever 'e could."

"I know… it's just that I also knew how much he was hurting; losing his family like he did, being cursed into killing them… I can't imagine how horrible the memory was for him. I know he had constant nightmares. It must have tormented him every day, to remember that his family was gone and it was his fault… to have been forced to murder his own kin. All he had left was revenge. I should have contacted him sooner, brought him here and got him involved with our efforts. Maybe if he felt he had some purpose he wouldn't have taken his own life. He was my friend, and I just forgot about him. Yet another dead friend that I've failed." Harry cried softly, and Gabrielle kissed away his tears.

She placed her hands to either side of his face and held his gaze. "You 'ave not failed him or anyone else." She insisted. "Remember zat 'e lost 'is 'ole family. And 'e is not zee only one zhat has taken 'is own life. Neizur iz your doing, neizur was your choice to 'ave 'appen. It was 'is own choice to take 'is life. Respect zhat 'e knew 'imself and was ready to be wizz 'is family again. I am sorry you lost your friend, but it is not your fault." She said.

Harry nodded and held her close, savoring her presence and her undemanding love.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry was deep in his morning meditation when he felt the pulse of magic calling to him. He got shakily to his feet and let everyone know he would be leaving for a bit before he called on his magic to disapparate him. He arrived just outside the grounds of Hogwarts, and felt another pulse of magic latch onto him, calling him inside the castle. He followed the pulses as they led him to the remains of the seventh floor and the room of requirement. The door was already present and he tentatively stepped inside. His magic reassured him that this was a good thing.

What he found was a single stone room with circular walls and evenly spaced windows standing from floor to ceiling. The view seemed to be from many hundreds of feet above the castle, and the midmorning light shone brightly through the southeastern panes. In the middle was a bricked well with a thin circle of stone surrounding the water filled hole. Water filled the well up to the lip of the stone, and as he approached it rippled and whirled. The water dropped in the center of the pool as a vortex reached for the bottom. A small and faintly glowing stone rose up from the depths and hovered above the well as the water settled, almost as if waiting for him to take it. Harry reached out and grasped it with his hand, and the blue-white stone twinkled like starlight as the strongest pulse of magic he had ever felt washed over him. He passed out in a heap on the floor.

…

… …

… … "Where am I...?"

…

… … … He watched through disembodied eyes as his younger self stabbed a black diary with a basilisk fang he pulled from his arm… Tom Riddle's phantom screamed and hissed as he died, and Harry's younger self smiled as Ginny took a gasping breath even as his eyes clouded over and blackness overtook his vision…

… …

… "What is going on…?"

… … …

… … The phoenix cried on his younger self's arm, but it had no effect. He watched the small boy that was once him convulse on the floor, dying from the basilisk venom in his blood. He didn't remember it happening like this… Ginny was still unconscious, and he thought that she had woken immediately. He also didn't remember dying. The phoenix sang and cried and it wasn't enough… His younger self was losing the battle to live…

…

… … "This isn't right! It didn't happen like this… did it…?"

…

… In the corner of the chamber the shadows deepened and slid across the floor, converging on a single point where the darkness thickened and became impossible to see through… A tall and hauntingly beautiful woman dressed in a silk tunic stepped out of the darkness as though it were a portal to some alien realm… She approached the younger Harry and knelt beside him, glancing only once at the diary and the corpse of the basilisk… Fawkes stepped back with a single trill, watching her warily. She smiled at the boy before her, and he saw that her eyes were slitted and her mouth had a pair of wickedly sharp fangs. She slid the tunic down to expose her breast and leaned over him. With one hand she held his mouth open and with the other she squeezed milk from her tit and guided the flow down his throat…

… …

… "What the actual fuck…?"

… … …

… … "This can't be right…!"

…

… … His younger self stopped convulsing, and the woman softly caressed his forehead, wiping the stray hair from his face…. Then she stood and covered herself again while speaking with a hiss. §You won't remember this for a long time, my child, but that is likely for the best.§ She paused and turned to stare in the direction from which the disembodied Harry saw the vision… Then she grinned, and Harry knew that she was somehow seeing him, even though he was apparently having a vision of the past… §Do not be frightened, my child, for I am your new mother, Andarial Slytherin. Know that you are reborn a lamia, the emperor of serpents. As I am the umbilical that ties life to the world so you shall be as well. Fear not the trials that are to come. Yours is the path that cuts through fate and forges your own destiny.§ With a final smirk she turned and left, vanishing back into the shadows… Fawkes gave a warbled cry and rushed back to the young Harry's side, shedding tears once more upon the wound, and this time to greater affect… The injury was healed and the younger Harry woke up just as the vision faded…

…

… "Could that have actually happened…?"

… …

Harry woke with a start in a barren shell of a room, the ceiling having collapsed in a corner and the wall to his left missing entirely. His hand was still clutching the glowing blue stone, his fingers almost numb from the strength of his grip. He sat up and took stock of himself. He was whole and uninjured. Stumbling from the room he discovered that he was still on the seventh floor and that the ruined room was actually the room of requirement. But its magic was gone, and all the magic about the castle was fading rapidly. Harry glanced at the blue stone and wondered if it had been the source of power for not just the room, but the whole of the castle. It wasn't anything like the hearthstone used to anchor the wards at Grimmauld Place. It was much too small, for one thing. The Black family wards were tied to a hearthstone the size of a boulder, set into the floor of the basement. The glowing blue stone was like a marble: barely larger than his thumb was wide, and perfectly round without any glyphs, runes, or other markings.

He puzzled it over for a while before deciding to leave the castle. It wasn't safe anymore; with the wards finally collapsing the structure had become unsafe. His magic obliged him and took him back to Ansgar's lab with the crack of disapparation.

XXXXXXXXXX

That night he had a strange dream, which he vividly remembered upon waking. In the dream he had found himself in the same forest clearing that laid at the center of his mental landscape, but devoid of the many spiritual essences that normally dwelt there. Instead, resting upon a flat stone that stuck out into the water of the pool was a beautiful woman with flowing black hair that shimmered in the moonlight. She turned her head to look back at him, and her alabaster skin seemed to glow faintly with a pale light. He stared at her terrible beauty, unable to look away or even think to say anything. Her green eyes twinkled with delight and she smiled warmly at him. With a wave of her hand she beckoned him closer and he felt compelled to approach.

Her legs dangled off the edge of the stone, with her bare feet only just touching the surface of the water. She wore a thin dress that was more of a toga, with flecks of silver sparkling across its shimmering folds. "Harry." She spoke, and her voice was like the echo of a choir. It was at once both overpowering and melodious, yet he felt himself enraptured all the same. He stopped walking and sat beside her. "You poor boy." She said sadly, pulling him into a hug. "I have watched you for so very long, and was never able to do anything for you."

"Who are you?" He asked, still in awe of her presence.

"You may call me Promethia." She said. "I was the heart and soul of Hogwarts." She informed him. "I have born witness to your trials, as I have for all the students who walked through my halls. I have always sought to guide them as best I could, and always done everything within my power to cultivate their potential and keep them safe. I am very sorry to have failed you so badly."

He was talking with Hogwarts? In his mindscape? And she called herself Promethia? He had to ask. "Promethia? Named after the god Promethius?"

"I am the same." She said. "We gods and goddesses have no gender save that which we adopt as our own. I've spent the last thousand years acting as a nurturing mother to the students who passed through my halls, and through that experience I've taken on the aspect of a woman."

She didn't seem bothered by the change in her gender, so Harry was going to do his best to ignore the issue. It was awkward enough talking to a genuine goddess; the fact that he was in fascinated by her beauty and barely fumbling his way through talking to her only made it worse. "You're the one who called me back to the school." He realized. She nodded with a hum of agreement. "The stone!" He exclaimed. "That's why it isn't like any other hearthstone. You're somehow connected to the school through the stone." He reasoned. "And you were the one who showed me what happened down in the chamber!"

"Yes. I shared my own perception of events with you." She replied. "And as you have guessed, I am bound to the stone. It is my prison. I would ask that you take it with you when you leave. There is nothing left for me in this dying world."

"Prison?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling wary. "You were imprisoned and forced to watch over Hogwarts?"

"Not at all." She said with a light laugh. "I was imprisoned a very long time ago by my fellow gods and goddesses for the sin of betrayal. I aided mankind by giving them the fires of divinity. I taught them magic such as the gods and goddesses wielded. Humanity was once kept as nothing more than slaves to the whims of my brothers and sisters, and I… foolish youth that I was… fell in love with one of you."

Harry stayed respectfully silent.

"She was a child that I decided to adopt as my own. But she was taken from me by my fellows, to teach me a lesson about my place in the world and show that it was improper for me to hold any sort of true affection for one of you. I was forced to watch her die, and choose between prolonging her suffering or ending her life. She begged me to kill her, but I simply couldn't bring myself to murder her. She was my child." A few tears fell down her cheek, and her eyes shown with emotion. "She suffered for days before she finally died. I swore that I would bring about retribution for her death. With my actions I ensured that humanity had the power to fight back. And so when humanity rebelled against the gods and made war upon heaven, it was my vengeance wrought upon them. I watched my fellow gods and goddesses die at their hands."

"So how were you imprisoned?" Harry asked.

"My brothers and sisters knew what I had done, and what the result of my actions would eventually be, so they punished me for my betrayal long before humanity was ready to fight them, and attempted to eradicate any humans who had been given my gift. But their effort only galvanized humanity against them, and brought about their downfall that much sooner." She smiled and brushed the hair from his face. He blinked at the softness of her touch and the warm feeling it evoked. "I may be limited within my prison, but I am still a goddess. I can reach out with my will and exert some influence on the world around me. I was found by one of my first students, a human mage of great power who then sought for all of his life to break me free of my prison."

"Who was he?" Harry asked. "Your student?"

Promethia smiled fondly at him. "Zodiac Constellus Blackstaff." Harry gave a startled cough at the name."I believe you recognize the name as one of your ancestors."

"He was my earliest ancestor, actually. According to the genealogy record my magic produced he was born over five thousand years ago. I can hardly believe you're that old."

"It isn't polite to comment on a woman's age." She admonished him. "But as you can see, he was never able to free me. Humanity may now hold the fires of divinity, but they will never have the absolute power or intricate precision that a god wields such magic with. My prison is not something any mortal can free me from. Though my student had not given up, I bid him to find another place for me. And where better than a school of magic? Am I not the goddess who gave magic to humanity? Did I not teach the first mages how to use it?"

Harry nodded. "I guess that makes sense." He said. "But wait… You're saying that you had him place you in the school? But Hogwarts was only founded a thousand years ago. How could Blackstaff have still been alive? That was way past his time."

"Blackstaff was my greatest student." She mused cryptically. "The gods and goddesses were divine, and they could not die because they were immortal. Having such power as to be immortal is the literal the definition of godhood. And yet humanity slew the gods. Is that not a paradox?" She asked.

"So how do you kill the unkillable?" Harry wondered.

"You strip them of their divinity. You take away their godhood and make them mortal." Promethia said.

"But it has to go somewhere." Harry realized. It was the same as the law of magic that did not allow for any unique magic to go extinct.

She nodded. "They each took a part of it into themselves; my thirteen students. But mortals were never meant to live forever. They went insane and had to be sealed away. It was done as kindly as was possible, silencing their madness with a dreamless slumber. It was a most terrible burden for any soul to bear; an eternity of nothingness. Only Blackstaff retained himself after the first millennia. He had given himself a purpose, upon which he focused all of his existence: to safeguard his bloodline and ensure the future of his lineage. But he was betrayed by some of his descendants, who saw only how he limited their power. It was well that we had already parted from each other, so that I was kept from their foolish hands. I know not what happened to him, other than that he has not answered my call in eight hundred years."

Harry couldn't conceive of anyone living for that long. He certainly never wanted to. It just didn't make sense to him. He would go back in time to save his friends and hopefully the world, but he wanted to see his parents someday, and he could only do that in the afterlife. Harry had once thought that Dumbledore was old and wise, but now he seemed so very young when compared against Blackstaff. Harry tried to imagine just who his ancestor had been. Blackstaff had tens of centuries in which to learn magic, and had an actual goddess to teach him. He must have been really powerful. Maybe even on the level of Merlin. If only he had still been around to help against Voldemort. Harry wondered what could have killed him if he had become immortal. Maybe his family sealed him away like Promethia's other twelve students had been. If so, then Harry might be able to find where he was sealed and release him. Blackstaff would surely be an ally. He was Harry's ancestor and had sworn himself to the purpose of protecting his descendants, and Promethia had said that Blackstaff was her best student so he had to be really powerful. Harry suddenly perked up with an idea. "Could you teach me?" He asked Promethia.

She smiled. "It is why I called you to me." She told him.

XXXXXXXXXX

Three more months passed and Harry had fallen into a demanding routine. In the morning he would train with magical instructors sent by the Delacours and sometimes work on his own projects. After lunch he would spend the afternoon training with soldiers on loan from the British military learning tactics and strategy even as he struggled to attain physical fortitude. And in the evening he worked with tutors hired from the local university to make up for years of missed mundane schooling. Each night was spent sharing his dreamscape with Promethia learning new magic and training his spirit. He continued to push himself to attain results, but the effort was beginning to wear him down.

"'ou need to rest!" Gabrielle insisted. "Take a few days ouff. Zee world won't end in zee meantime." The look of disbelief he gave her made her snort. "Any more than it already is." She added. "Come on. Trust me. 'ou'll perform better if 'ou've 'ad some time to recuperate." The wink she gave him told him all he needed to know about which sort of performance she was concerned about. Harry knew he hadn't been as attentive to her during their lovemaking as he perhaps should have been. And they hadn't even made love for almost a week; which was the longest time spent without doing so since they had gotten together. His long days left him exhausted to the point where he only wanted to sleep.

"I'll think about it." He promised. He would make sure he intimately and physically expressed his love to her that night.

And as if she knew what he was thinking she kissed him seductively on the lips. "I'll 'old 'ou to zat." She said, and promptly sat in his lap to steal some of his breakfast. He smiled indulgently at her as she used his fork to feed him bites of food.

After breakfast they parted and he didn't see her again until that afternoon. He entered the gym to meet up with the royal marine who had been assigned to train him for the day, and had only just greeted the man when Gabrielle arrived. "Corporal, I will be tending to 'is physical training for zee day. I need to see 'is endurance for myself." She told the marine.

"Huh?" Harry had time to ask as she jumped on him. Her arms entwined about his neck as her legs wrapped around his hips, the weight of her impact making him stagger. The marine was a credit to his country and immediately abandoned Harry to his fate, retreating in the face of overwhelmingly superior force.

Gabrielle pressed her lips against his to silence him and that seemed enough to explain the situation. Five hours later they left the gym, still smelling strongly of sex. Harry didn't even argue when she once again brought up the need for a vacation. He was a fast learner.

XXXXXXXXXX

It turned out that the Delacours had a small homestead on a private island in the Balearic Sea. Gabrielle imposed on her father to grant them access, while Harry politely asked Mycroft to arrange their transport to the island. Mycroft laughed at him when he explained his reasons, but agreed that he had been working very hard and could probably use the reprieve. Harry promised to return in three days, but Mycroft insisted he take a week. They were still waiting on the computers to crunch the numbers for the equations, though it wouldn't be too much longer. When that was done, there likely wouldn't be any opportunity to take a break from things, so it was better for him to take some time off.

Gabrielle smiled victoriously when they landed on the beach. The military plane had taken them to a small airbase in southern France, where they then took a helicopter to the island. The Delacour's island home was uniquely beautiful. The entire south side of the island was a single massive beach, with white-tan sand and clear-blue water. A small forest encircled the homestead, and a glass menagerie was built beside it. They only housed birds, but there were many exotic species kept within.

"Come 'ere 'arry." Gabrielle called to him, leading him into the menagerie. "Meet Fiona." She said. She held her arm out and a massive bird with blue-green feathers flapped down to land on her. Harry almost thought it was a phoenix at first, but although magical, the bird turned out to be something like an owl. Tamed and trained to carry packages and mail. It regarded him with intense hate.

"I don't think she likes me." Harry muttered.

"Non, 'arry!" Gabrielle insisted. "'ou being zilly."

She turned to bring the bird closer to him, electing a screech of protest from the animal, who swiped a razor-sharp talon at his face. He leaned away just enough to avoid being lacerated. "No, I think she's quite hostile."

"Fiona!" Gabrielle admonished. The bird shrieked another hiss at Harry before taking off. Gabrielle harrumphed. "Très bien! Be zat way." She grabbed Harry's hand and took him to the house, locking the menagerie up behind them. "'arry." She said. He looked inquiringly at her. "Don't stray near zee menagerie while 'ou are 'ere. Fiona does not seem to like you."

"I'd noticed." Harry said blandly.

XXXXXXXXXX

Two days into their stay, an otherworldly shriek and a furious roar awoke them. It was late morning, with the sun already well into the sky, and if it were not for the late night Harry had spent with Gabrielle, both of them would have been awake much sooner. Harry snatched up Dumbledore's wand and went outside to investigate. What he saw startled him into disbelief. There was a Kraken on the beach, a few hundred meters away from the house. And it was being attacked by a Dragon. The dragon was not like any Harry had ever seen. It was moderately smaller, but also sleeker and more dangerous. It had four legs, two wings, and a tail. Its skin was armored with hardened plates of interlocking scales that appeared scorched and burned, and its neck was short and guarded by a ridged crown that jutted back from its head. It roared again, flapping its wings twice before spitting fire at the Kraken.

The Kraken was harder to define. Krakens had an incredible regeneration that let them survive otherwise fatal injuries and even regrow lost limbs, but they didn't always grow back the same way. Sometimes they grew tentacles, other times they grew legs or claws. Sometimes their bodies were long and serpentine, while in other cases they were more like squids or lobsters. They lived pretty much forever, and kept growing for as long as they were alive, a few inches each year. This Kraken had to be a thousand years old, at least, given its size. It held itself upright on four massive limbs that sprouted from its torso and ended in a single claw, though the lower bulk of its body was supported by six smaller legs beneath it. It had armored chitin that was easily a match for the Dragon's scales, and a mass of six clawed tentacles sprouting from its back. Its head was almost humanoid, except for the circular mouth surrounded on all sides by rows of teeth. Its torso was also vaguely humanoid, and it had two arms with clawed hands. Its lower body was distinctly aquatic; ending in a finned tail that was covered in spiked chitin.

The Kraken was only partially on the beach. Most of its lower body was churning up the water. But it shrieked a challenge at the Dragon and held itself higher, some of its smaller legs lifted out of reach of the ground. The Dragon roared in response and dove upon it, slamming it back onto the sand. The Dragon's wings ended in sharp claws that struck again and again as it flapped, and the Kraken hissed in pain, twisting to the side and using its hands to push the Dragon away. A tentacle whipped around and lashed out at the dragon, scoring a mark on the weak membrane of its wing. It growled and spat more fire.

Despite the Kraken's regeneration, the burning inflicted by the Dragon's magical fire did not immediately heal. It would, eventually, but it would take far longer than any normal wound. A single downward stroke of its wings brought the Dragon into the air again, and it dove forward tackling the Kraken. The mythical beasts tumbled down the beach, with the Kraken landing on its back and the Dragon raking the claws of its hind legs against the softer tissue of its underside. The Kraken screeched in pain and wrapped its tentacles and legs around the Dragon, pulling it into a grapple.

"Bloody hell!" Harry whispered. He turned back to find Gabrielle standing in the doorway. "We've got to move. Now!" Gabrielle was frozen in place, staring at the sight before her. "Gabrielle!" Harry said, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the house and towards the forest. She stumbled and caught herself on him. He could see that she was trembling, and she held onto his hand so tightly that it hurt.

The Kraken spat a black oily gunk at the Dragon, and the sticky ink latched onto its face. The Dragon clawed and scraped at it, but it wouldn't come off. Finally the Dragon spat its fire and burned the ink away. Except that the ink ignited with a pale green flame that seemed to burn even the dragon. Its fierce cry of outrage was eclipsed by the Kraken's shriek of triumph. The clawed limbs of the Kraken scraped against the plates of scale covering the Dragon, and then they found purchase. With enormous strength the Kraken peeled back the plate and stabbed into the flesh beneath, to the agonized roaring of the Dragon.

The Dragon brought its wings up and then down, and then again and again. Then it, somehow, lifted both combatants into the air. Five more flaps brought them even higher, and then the Dragon tore itself free and dropped the Kraken. It fell onto the house with a thunderous crash that sent debris hurling away, and lay there on its side. Then the Dragon flew up and pounced. It landed like a raptor, tearing into the back and neck of the Kraken with the sheer force of its impact. Its forelegs grabbed the face of the Kraken and pulled its mouth open, snapping its jaw with the strength of its arms. The Kraken hissed and its tentacles surged up, crackling with arcs of electricity as they wrapped around the dragon's neck and constricted. The dragon choked, and then spat its dark red fire down the Kraken's throat. With one last heave, the Kraken curled upon itself, and the force of the motion twisted the Dragon's neck until it broke. But the damage was done; the Kraken was burned from the inside, and unable to regenerate damage caused by magical fire, it died bleeding its black blood.

"D-did zat just 'appen!?" Gabrielle asked.

"Yes." Harry replied. "Yes it did." And what a horrible coincidence, he thought.

This is certainly not a coincidence. Promethia informed him. You are being forged into a weapon by Magic itself. It intends for you to take their essences. A dragon and a kraken are potent magical creatures, both at least the equal of a phoenix and a basilisk. Their power will aid you on your quest.

Why is it doing this? And what if I don't want it? Harry wondered. I feel like all of this… its changing me into something else; something that isn't me.

Magic is alive. And it's powerful. It is a quasi-omnipotent fundamental force of existence that is both sapient and sentient. And sometimes it likes to… flirt with the rules of non-interference. Such changes to your own essence may be the cost you must pay to achieve your goals. Promethia replied. I am not overly worried. You would not have been chosen if you did not have the potential to succeed. But it will be up to you to overcome the obstacles you will face. I can only help so much.

Harry sighed and nodded to himself. Stepping forward he was stopped when Gabrielle tugged on his arm. "'arry? W-what? W-w-where're you going?" She all but cried.

"I have to do something. I'll be right back, I promise." He told her.

Her face hardened into resolve and she stepped forward with him. "I am not leaving 'ou." She informed him.

He smiled at her and nodded, putting his arm around her shoulder. "I love you, so please be careful." He said.

"You too!" She touched his nose with her finger. "I 'eard about zee last dragon 'ou fought."

He kissed her finger. "No worries. We'll both be careful."

They approached the two colossal bodies. "Do 'ou know what 'ou're doing?" Gabrielle asked.

"Not a clue." Harry replied. An impulse struck him and he reached over to touch the black blood coating the Kraken's skin. It was like sticky oil that flowed over his fingers and hand. He pulled his hand back and let it slide off, ready to call on his magic to clean him when a spark of electricity arced along the Kraken's skin. It struck him and ignited the oil covering his hand. For a moment he screamed, grabbing his wrist and trying to call on his magic to help him. Then the pain vanished and he stared at his horribly charred skin as green flames still licked away at his hand. But the blood erupting from his blistered flesh bubbled and hissed as if it were boiling, and he watched in shock as his tissue spontaneously regenerated. The pale-green flames guttered and died, leaving unblemished flesh behind. Then he noticed that Gabrielle was still screaming. "Hush." He hugged her and murmured to her. "It's okay. I'm fine, see?"

She stopped screaming long enough to look, but then immediately started shouting in French and hitting him repeatedly. "Vous Espèce d'imbécile!" She informed him as she finally stopped.

"I'm sorry!?" Harry replied, having no idea what she had said.

"Oui! Vous feriez mieux d'être!" She told him.

"Okay, now I just have to see about the dragon." He said.

This was apparently the wrong thing to say, as she erupted into another screaming fit.