Story 3: Harry Potter & Marvel (Doctor Strange) Crossover

A/N: This is an idea I got after seeing Doctor Strange back in November 2016. I wrote this shortly after that and bit into December. I actually had a whole plot planned out but I sort of lost interest and I didn't continue it. I still think its a good idea and might come back to it eventually but have no immediate plans to. It was just that it was sitting unused for so long that I thought I might as well get this much out there. If I ever decide to continue it, I'll post it as its own story in the crossover section. Please enjoy what I wrote so far.

A masked man in dark robes shuffled through the room quickly, an ancient tome under his arm. He was on edge. It was always this way when having to approach his master personally, but his current environment only made it worse. He wasn't sure why they were currently located where they were… wherever they were. The Dark Mark on his forearm had guided his apparition to this location. It was a precaution set up so he wouldn't be able to tell anyone where they were, even if dosed with veritaserum.

Despite that, he could tell it was an old castle of some type. It had clearly not been used in a very long time, seeing how the room they were in was partially exposed to the elements. This allowed in the current damp cold breeze he was feeling, as well as the sand and other grit that had accumulated on the floor over the years. It made an unnerving scraping sound against his boots as they contacted the ground.

Stopping before the only other occupant of the room, the man readied himself. Gulping nervously, he began to speak, trying to keep his nervous stuttering to a minimum, "I-I have it as y-you requested… m-my Lord."

There was no response. A moment later one deathly pale hand was extended outwards. With a flick of his master's wand, the ancient text floated out of his arms to rest in the other pale limb. Silence descended upon the room once again, broken only by the sound of pages as the book was opened and slowly flipped through.

The servant remained deathly still, barely allowing himself to breath. He wouldn't make any noise that could distract his master, and he wouldn't leave either. His master hadn't dismissed him.

A few minutes later, the book was shut with a small snap, and his breath caught as a pair of glowing red eyes, set in a skull-like visage, peered down at him intently. "Tell me Scabior… did I not give you clear instruction on retrieving this book?"

Scabior's knees trembled, "O-of course my lord. I-I followed them to the letter?"

"Did you?" The Dark Lord's voice took on a dangerous tone, "Did I not instruct you that no one but me was to open it?" The Death Eater paled rapidly. "Was it you that could not contain your curiosity Scabior?"

The wizard fell to his knees grabbing at the hem of his masters robes, "I'm sorry master! I shouldn't have looked! I won't tell a soul! I swear."

The Dark Wizard brushed him away, staring his servant without expression. "And what did you think about what you read?"

The man's countenance brightened, as if sensing an opportunity to save himself, "Only you are worthy of such power my lord. Once you have completed the ritual no one will question your superiority ever again!"

"I see," the Dark Lord turned his back on his servant and slowly walked away, silent as if deep in thought. The servant let out the breath he'd been holding at unexpected lack of anger from his master. The inhuman wizard suddenly spun back around in a blur of motion, "Avada Kedavra!"

Sickly green light flashed through the room, but the only sound that was heard was the thump as the Death Eaters body hit the ground. Lord Voldemort, self proclaimed Dark Lord, gazed at what used to be his follower for nary a moment. Normally he'd have indulged in some torture before killing someone who disobeyed him so, but not tonight. Tonight he didn't have time something like that.

Turning away once again he walked towards a ruined window hissing into the darkness, "Nagini… dinner."

He ignored the slithering sounds of his large familiar as she approached her meal, lost in thought about recent events and what he was about to undergo. Once again he had been bested by a mere boy. Though thoughts of that night still stoked the fires of his fury, at least he understood what had happened.

Harry Potter hadn't survived by some unknown power. It had been his filthy mudblood mother who had protected the babe with her life. It had been an error judgement on his part to even momentarily indulge Severus's request. He'd planned on giving her to him as requested. He'd let him have her for a little while… let him feel secure in his own little fantasy world, before he'd take her away again. He'd pass her around to the rest of his followers. Allow them to have their fun while Severus watched. Only then would he kill her. It would cement in all his followers minds that while he could be generous, in the end he was the one who was in control. Severus would have gotten over it in time. The others had brought women they'd captured back with them before. They were easy to please. Dumbledore's idea of love was laughable at best.

Then again, ten years later, he'd encountered the child again. This time stuck to the back of that damned fool Quirrell. Once again he'd underestimated the power of the protection Lily Potter had imbued on her son. He had not expected it to still be active after a decade. Most of it was Quirrell's fault though. None of that would have happened if he'd been in control of that body.

Another two years had passed stuck as a bodiless wraith before someone had finally found him. If only it could have been someone else other than the wretched little rat Pettigrew. The idiot had barely been able to follow the instructions he'd given him, and his plan would have failed if Barty hadn't rejoined him soon after.

Yet another year of scheming his return only met with partial success. He'd finally been returned to his body, but Harry Potter had survived… again! He hadn't known what to think at the time. The boy had pushed back his killing curse, locked their wands together, and somehow released spirits of people he'd killed. Voldemort wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he'd felt fear in the face his teenage opponent that night, for the first time in a long time.

He'd realized a while after that things might not be as he'd initially had assumed. He realized that Potter had seemed just as shocked by the effect of their duel as he had. He knew then that it hadn't been intentional on his part. The more he thought on this matter it seemed to him that it had been some kind of effect between their wands… nothing more. Unfortunately, he couldn't look into it more, seeing as wandcrafting is a particularly tricky subject, whose secrets are guarded closely by those in the business. If he wasn't trying to keep a low profile he would have sent his servants out to fetch Ollivander. He bet the old fool would know what had happened. Despite still not having all the details, he'd felt more relieved that whatever had happened hadn't been some power on the boy's part.

Sticking to his plans, he'd kept quiet throughout the summer and the start of the new year. This had actually worked better than expected. The idiot of a Minister had refused to believe Potter and Dumbledore, and now the people were tearing their own so called savior apart. It had also been around this time that he'd discovered the link between him and the boy's mind. At first it had been another cause of worry but he'd soon realized it didn't seem to be a threat to him. Potter had no discernable skill in the mind arts. Something Severus confirmed later in the year.

Knowing he now had to hear the full prophecy before taking further action against him, the Dark Lord had started sending Harry visions of the Department of Mysteries. He'd hoped they would be enough to make him curious but unfortunately after almost a whole school year, he wasn't making much headway.

That's when the boon had landed into their lap. Apparently Sirius Black, wherever the boy's godfather was located, had gotten careless and ordered his house elf away. He'd then appeared to the closest family members available, namely Bellatrix. They hadn't been able to get much information out of him that wouldn't contradict an order given by his master, but it had allowed him to set his next plan in motion.

Sending the boy visions of his godfather being tortured had been all it had taken. He hadn't expected him to bring a bunch of his little friends with him into an obviously dangerous situation, but that shouldn't have been much of a problem. Except it had been. Six untrained children had managed to incapacitate several of his highly trained Death Eaters, and even managed to hold off the rest until Dumbledore's little Order arrived. Once he'd broken out his captured forces again, they'd all been subjected to his displeasure.

At least Bellatrix managed to kill Black and lead Potter away into his trap. He'd been so amused to see Dumbledore's little hero result to using the unforgivable curse, he couldn't help himself. He'd revealed himself and gave him advice on how to kill her. If he'd decided to do it, Voldemort wouldn't have stopped him. While Bellatrix had always been one of his most fanatical supporters, the damage done if the Boy-Who-Lived had been caught committing murder would have been worth the life of one of his own.

Of course the boy hadn't the stomach for it in the end, and to his dismay the old fool himself arrived. Their battle had been just as intense as those he'd remembered from years previous. Reflecting afterword, he was sure that age was starting to its hold on Dumbledore. Though just as powerful, he'd seemed a touch slower, and a touch stiffer than he'd remembered. As much as he despised Dumbledore, he'd always known he'd needed to be wary of him, and even with his newest revelation, he knew he had to continue to do so.

The end of that battle had been what had pushed him to taking the step he was about to. Taking advantage, once again, of the link between their minds, he had tried for an all out mental assault. At first, it had worked as intended. He'd managed possess Potter even easier than he'd expected. He'd hoped to push Dumbledore enough where he'd be forced to kill the boy.

This had been when it had happened. Voldemort's grip tightened dangerously on his wand. Even now, just thinking about it, sent a strange mix of feelings coursing through him, most predominantly being that of rage. Potter had done something. What? He didn't know, but it had managed to push him out, while causing copious amounts of pain at the same time.

Forced back into his physical form, he'd still been disorientated enough that he didn't immediately notice the arrival of the Minister for Magic and a large force of Aurors. Apparating away and cutting his losses had been the only feasible choice at the time.

Again Potter had escaped him and yet it was obvious for all the see that he didn't have the skill required to do so. He needed to know what this strange power he had was and gain even more himself. He could not allow himself to be opposed.

Voldemort may seem crazy to some, and it was true he was a bit less sane than before he'd been forced to resided as a bodiless wraith for over a decade, but he was not stupid. He knew that there was much more out there beyond the witches and wizards of his world. Taking England was only the first step. The rest of the wizarding world was next. While planned correctly, he believed the muggles would be even easier to defeat. The only thing that could throw a wrench into his plans were if any sorcerers got involved. He knew there weren't many in England or any other ICW countries, but from what he'd heard, they were powerful, let alone the Sorcerer Supreme himself. He didn't know much about the man or what he could do, only that he'd probably have to face him down the line. That didn't worry him overly much. He was Lord Voldemort after all, most powerful wizard in existence. Nothing could stop him for long.

"It's ready my lord," a breathy voice spoke clearly from behind him, breaking him out of his internal monologue. He turned around slowly, already knowing who it was that disturbed him. Only a few could speak to him clearly without trembling, and only one held such a note of adoration in her voice. She quivered with excitement just from being looked on by her lord. She batted her eyelids almost unconsciously as if, after all these years, she still hoped to seduce him. Voldemort didn't even bat eye at her behavior. He'd never been one to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, but that had only been compounded after receiving his new body.

"Bella… let us hope that this turns out better than your recent stunt at the Ministry. Otherwise the consequences shall be… unfortunate."

"Of course my lord! Everything has prepared exactly to your specifications. The mudbloods you asked us to capture have been stripped and are ready for their part in the ritual." She said the last part with a cruel smirk that would have sent shivers of equal parts disgust and dread down the spines of any sane person.

The Dark Lord did not respond, but swept out of the room, heading towards the ritual area. Entering the other room, he allowed his eyes to sweep over the preparations. It was a lot brighter in here than where he'd been previously seeing as his servants were keeping their wands lit.

Stopping in the doorway, he took a moment to go over the large pentagram on the floor, interspaced with strange runes, long thought lost to the wizarding world. Seeing no mistakes, he continued forward. He was halfway across the room before anyone noticed his presence, falling into an fearful silence and extinguishing their wands. Lord Voldemort paid neither them nor the bound muggleborn witches and wizards placed strategically around the circle any attention.

Standing now in the centre of the runic array, he finally took the time to look around at them all once more. "Welcome… my friends." Arms spread wide, Voldemort began speaking in a low voice, yet it still managed to carry through the whole room. "Today will be one that will be remembered for all of history. With this power at our disposal, we will crush all those that have opposed us, including Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter. Then we will be able to turn our gaze to the world at large, to purge all those who are unworthy!"

He allowed the groups cheers to go on for a few moments, until they all cut off with a single motion from him. "Now… let us begin."

Another wave of his wand conjured several unnatural black-coloured flames in the corners of the pentagram not occupied by one of their prisoners. Seeing the design inscribed on the floor below him start to glow faintly, he opened the large tome once again. Finding the correct page, he began to read the ancient language hidden within. It had taken years of practice, with any works he could find from the same time period as this book for him, to become proficient enough to try this. It had been the final key to attempting this ritual, but even now the words sounded rough and guttural coming out of his mouth, unlike his usual serpentine hiss.

After a few minutes of continuous chanting, a few of his followers stepped forward as instructed, raising their prepared rune engraved daggers. A quick slash later, the throats of the terrified muggleborns were cut, allowing their lifeblood to run freely onto the ground. Voldemort made no indication that he'd noticed this step being completed, thinking that this was a better death than the swine deserved, though he wished he could see the look on the old fools face when he realized it was the blood from the filth that he loved so much that was helping to move along his plans.

Strangely, the crimson liquid didn't pool across the floor like you might expect, but actually seemed to be absorbed into the ancient symbols, which in turn began to glow even more brightly. Many of the watching Death Eaters had fallen to their knees, unable to stand under the weight of the magical pressure filling the room.

Nearing the end of the ritual, the runes now a bright crimson, and the black flames now flickering wildly, Voldemort's words had taken on a powerful authority. To all who heard them, it was if they could feel the magic resonating with each and every syllable. Some of those present, like one Bellatrix Lestrange, revelled in what was currently transpiring, but some of the others, despite their wholehearted support of the cause, couldn't help but feel the unnaturalness of what was occurring. The words being spoken by their Lord seeming wrong somehow, almost an affront to nature and life itself. They never got to spend anymore time thinking on this though, as the ritual was completed with an enormous explosion of magical energies.

Blinded for a moment, and still reeling from the shockwave, Lord Voldemort's vision slowly returned to him, taking the form of a large floating fiery red eye. His elation at his success fled swiftly under the weight of it's primal gaze. Not a word was said, but he felt the being tear through his previously unsurpassed occlumency barriers as if they were none existent. He felt it sifting through his mind, and as much as he hated it, Voldemort knew it was required for this to work out in his favour.

After a moment it stopped and he felt the question posed in his mind, without words.

"I will pay the price," he spoke aloud. The being retreated from his mind, leaving everything quite. Then, without warning, a fiery tendril shot out of the eye and stabbed Lord Voldemort directly in the chest. The Dark Lord spasmed in pain worse than anything else he'd ever experienced in his long life except for the night when he first lost his body.

It ended a minute later as quickly as it began. Unaccustomed to such a feeling, for the first time the wizard once known as Tom Riddle felt that he'd lost something precious that night that he would never regain again. Then he felt the foreign power start flooding in. He'd always known that he was one of the most powerful wizards of all time, but this power felt like so much more. With this he could accomplish his plans with ease!

The fiery tendril pulled back, and disappeared into the whole. The eye remained floating there for several moments as if to impart some last message before disappearing with a small pop. Silence reigned throughout the room as Voldemort expanded his senses outwards, flexing his magical muscles so to speak. Then he began to laugh, knowing that Dumbledore would have no chance of standing in his way now. To anyone other than those currently there, the sound of the Dark Lord's jubilation would have have sent shivers down their spine.

As if on cue, Voldemort and then his followers apparated away. The only trace left behind of the night's activities were the pentagram, now permanently burned into the floor and the discarded bodies used as a human sacrifice.

Halfway across the world, one Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, defender of humanity from Mystic Arts, rushed into the main room of his Sanctum Sanctorum. Just moments before he'd felt the massive wave of magic that had hit New York city, causing the wards around his home strain in protest and fluctuate wildly. Checking everything over, he let out a sigh when he realized it was all still intact.

Knowing that he needed to figure out what had just happened immediately, he hurried off towards another room. He only hesitated for a moment before entering the Chamber of Shadows. The Orb of Agamotto, Strange's most prized scrying device was already floating in the air, lit up with colour.

Approaching it with determined steps, the Sorcerer Supreme brushed his hand along the surface gently, allowing himself to feel the powerful hum of the devices magic. What he saw within the next few seconds, before the vision cut off suddenly, drained all the colour from his face. Trying again to once more find the dark British wand wizard called Voldemort was met with failure proving that he was indeed now beyond his sight.

Looking away from the now darkened orb, Dr. Strange tried to think of what he had to do next. He had not been oblivious to the events surrounding the wand wizards these past few decades. Though they, along with all their other ICW countries, liked their autonomy, they did still answer to the Sorcerer Supreme. He'd just never felt the need to interfere with their way of life. He'd been close back near the end of Voldemort's first campaign, but then he'd somehow been stopped by that boy, Harry Potter. He'd meant to look into that some more but had never got the chance. Now, things had gone too far. This Voldemort was posing a danger to not only the whole world, magical and mundane alike, but the safety of the whole dimension.

Before he could finish formulating a plan, Strange was shaken out of his reverie by the Orb of Agamotto once more beginning to shine. Looking within made him growl, "Demons… in England!"

He placed both hands on the orb and gripped it tightly. A few moments later he disappeared with a spiral of his cloak as he allowed the orb to transport him to where he needed to go.

Harry Potter, the nearly sixteen year-old wizard, also known as the Boy-Who-Lived or more recently as the Chosen One, awoke from his slumber in Number Four Privet Drive with a shout. Lately, he'd woken screaming often from dreams of watching his late godfather, Sirius Black, fall through that accursed arch in the Department of Mysteries, but this time that was not the case. He didn't even have a chance to think on the horrific vision he'd just witnessed, before the pain in his scar set in.

It was worse than anything he'd ever experienced before. Worse than the time the Voldemort-possessed-Quirrell had tried kill him, but had burned to a crisp instead, worse than when Voldemort had managed to touch him for the first time after being resurrected, and even worse than when he'd tried to possess him in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic a few weeks prior.

You could easily say that young Harry was no stranger to pain in his life, but this was one of the only times it had ever been so bad that he couldn't get a thought in edgewise. Harry barely even heard the shout of rage from the other side of the house. If he were to describe what he was feeling in words, he would have to say that it felt something in his head were tearing itself in two. He suffered in agony for what felt like hours, when in reality it had only been a few seconds, before the pain stopped just as suddenly as it began. A thick black goo having leaked out of his now newly reopened scar, something else flew out and exited the house with the inhuman shriek.

Harry lay there trying to catch his breath only just now realizing he had somehow ended up on the floor. The sound of heavy footsteps approaching his room caused him to curse under his breath realizing that his relatives had probably heard his latest episode.

That was quickly proven correct as the bedroom door slammed open hard enough that Harry thought it was in danger of coming right off. It revealed the his puce coloured uncle, who was trembling in rage. "That's it freak!" Harry scrambled to free his wand that he'd recently taken to keeping hidden up his sleeve. "I've had to put up with too much of your freakishness over the years, and we've let you stay here out of the kindness of our hearts, but this ends tonight." Unfortunately for Harry, his uncle reached him before he succeeded in his task.

He grabbed a bunch of the teen wizards unruly black hair, and started dragging him out of the room. Now seeing as Harry could longer quite be called a child and was growing into a fine young man, this kind of physical confrontation wouldn't normally be quite so effective, but he was still feeling a little disorientated from his strange vision and the debilitating pain in his scar, his uncle managed to get him out into the hall and down the stairs.

Each step that cut into him as he was unceremoniously dragged down them only served to break his mind out of his shocked stupor. When they reached the bottom Harry finally managed to kick out with one of his feet, impacting his uncle on the back of his leg, making him stagger forward.

"You little bastard!" He had turned around and begun to move towards Harry once again. Before either of them could make a move, they both had to grab on to the wall for support as the whole house shuddered and groaned. "What are you doing to my house? Stop using your you-know-what!"

"I'm not doing anything!" Harry was almost unable to contain his snort at the fact his Uncle couldn't even say the word magic when his whole house was shaking in what appeared to be an earthquake.

He had just noticed the bright light shining in through the windows that hadn't been there before. Pushing past his uncle, who let him do so, seeing that his nephew had managed to free his wand, he parted the curtains only to stop and gape and what he was seeing.

On what had before been the perfectly normal street, now a giant golden bubble was visible around the house. Harry was pretty sure these were Professor Dumbledore's vaunted blood wards that kept him safe here during the summer, though they'd never been visible before, and he didn't think the way they seemed to be pulsating wildly was a good sign.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" His uncle's temper seemed to have gotten the best of him once again as he had started advancing towards Harry, who at the moment could care less, his eyes still glued out the window.

"I-I think we're under attack."

His uncle's sputtering caught his attention enough that he glanced away, "B-b-but we're safe? That old freak headmaster of yours said we'd be safe!" The last part came out more accusatory than questioning.

"We should be! Nothing should be able to get through the blood wards while I live here and am underage."

Of course as soon as he said that Harry noticed the first crack appear in the golden dome. Another soon followed, and another after that. Before he knew it, the dome was riddled with cracks, and only moments later shattered like a pane of glass. The wave of magical backlash was so powerful it forced him back a couple steps though he only just managed to keep upright.

Looking back out the window, Harry couldn't see what exactly had just destroyed the wards, but he did see spell fire lighting up the night. Shifting around trying to get a better view he finally was able to make out Mad-Eye-Moody fighting a variable number of other shadowy opponents.

Figuring he must have been tonights Order posted guard, Harry felt slightly better. He knew other than Dumbledore himself, Moody was one of the most capable fighters in the Order, and had the best chance of getting them all out of this attack. Despite knowing Moody's skill, Harry was just debating whether to go out and help him, seeing as he was out numbered, when he saw something impact the grizzled old Auror, sending him flying out of sight.

"No!" Harry hadn't even realized he'd spoken out loud until he heard his uncle jump at his sudden shout. Before he could figure out what to do next, he saw the dark figures turning their attention to the house. "Get down!"

Then, without checking if his uncle had listened to him he dived to the side away from the window. He wasn't a moment too soon because as soon as he hit the floor, he heard the sound of shattering glass, as the window was destroyed.

Rolling a few times, Harry came up in a crouch, ready to face whatever had invaded the house, but instead was almost sick at the sight before him. His uncle obviously hadn't got out of the way in time and whatever had hit him had bisected him down the middle. Blood was splattered across the floor and walls, and his legs could be found a few feet away from his torso.

It was only then that Harry noticed the dark humanoid shape rising to their feet. Seeing their face, Harry began to see red. "Bellatrix!" He spat.

The fact that he only got an animalistic growl in response, and she crouched down almost as if preparing to launch herself at him, stopped him in his tracks. Where was her annoying little baby voice? Her taunts? Shouldn't she be boasting about killing Sirius right now?

Deciding it would be prudent to be careful, Harry started to observe her closely. He was glad he did, as he immediately noticed something was not right. She was not holding a wand, and if her bloody hands were any indication, his uncle had been torn apart with them and not magic. He idly noted that her newly acquired clawlike nails would probably aid in that endeavor. If that wasn't enough, he saw some kind of forked tail swish into view as well.

"What the hell?"

That seemed enough to aggravate Bellat- no… the creature, as she lunged through for his throat. His wand came up with barely a thought, a blasting curse leaving the tip and hitting her squarely. It was only as she sailed backwards through the air that he realized he'd just used his first non verbal spell.

The excitement at his accomplishment didn't last long as what used to be Bellatrix Lestrange was soon back on her feet, not showing any signs of damage. Cursing, he tried again, sending a barrage of cutting curses, blasting curses, and banishing charms the creature's way. As if having learned from the last time, she started dodging this way and that avoiding his magic and closing the distance between the two of them rapidly.

Ducking to the side at the last moment he allowed her to pass him, then pivoting on one foot he sent another banisher at her now exposed back. It worked just liked he'd hoped, causing her to trip over the bottom of the staircase that had been at his back. The spell he'd cast only served to speed up its collision with her face.

The sickening crunch that resulted gave him a morbid sense of satisfaction. Unfortunately, he couldn't enjoy that for long as, with a loud crash, the front door was blasted off his hinges, and another dark shape barrelled their way into the house. Deciding to use something not so easily avoided, he aimed his wand at the newcomer and cried, "Incendio!" Pouring as much magic into the spell as he could. The resulting wave of flames were a lot larger than anything they were supposed to get when practicing in charms class, but that was his intention.

To his horror, the creature just charged through unfazed. Backing up quickly Harry returned to living room, subconsciously staying away from his uncles mangled corpse. This proved to be a mistake though, proven by the piercing scream that suddenly broke through the night. Paling as he looked at the terrified figure of his aunt, frozen at the top of the stairs. Harry knew immediately he couldn't get to her. Two of those things were between him and her.

Harry had to fight down the bile rising in his throat once again as the Bellatrix-like creature attacked his aunt, knocking them both out of view. All he could hear were her muffled screams slowly fading away to gurgles, and the sound of tearing flesh. He knew immediately his cousin was next. Even if he'd somehow not awoken with all the commotion, his room was just a few feet away from where the closest creature currently was.

There was no love lost between Harry and his relatives, but he wouldn't wish this fate on anyone… even them. Desperately trying to think of a way to save his cousin, Harry froze when he heard the voice.

"None of this had to happen Harry. I offered you the chance to join me once. You could have been great you know." His pale snakelike face floated out of the darkness. Eyes glowing brighter than he remembered, Lord Voldemort stepped into the ruined livingroom. Glancing around at everything, he smiled as he saw the teenage wizard backed into a corner by one of his pets.

"And what? If I'd joined you, you would let me live? You couldn't have a threat like me hanging around. It's why you decided to kill me as a baby anyway!" His words didn't quite have the effect he'd intended seeing as Voldemort's smirk grew even wider.

"A threat?" He laughed. "Really? It seems Dumbledore informed you of the prophecy after all… not that it matters anymore. I've amassed even more power since we've last met. Power beyond anything you could imagine. Fate has no hold over me anymore! Just look, Dumbledore's little spells didn't stop me from finding you did they?"

Harry shivered. He didn't doubt Voldemort's words. He could feel the unnatural power rolling off him, and saw the spiderweb of glowing crimson veins that spread from the corner of each eye across his face. "What'd you do? Sacrifice another one of your followers limbs this time? You'd think it would turn them off following you, but I always said the purebloods were a bit thick. Got anymore dark rituals to put me through before you kill me?"

"What you call sick, I only see as an opportunity to improve. I told you all those years ago, there is no good and evil, only po-"

"Only power and those too weak to seek it. Ya, I know. Heard it all before. Can we cut the crap and move this along."

For the first time that night, Voldemort started to look irritated, but his expression soon resumed its smirk when he saw Harry flinch. The sounds of screaming had renewed upstairs… Dudley… it died off rather quickly, leaving no doubt in Harry's mind that his cousin had just lost his life too.

"It's seems Bella's just finishing up upstairs. What do you think Harry? Do you like the improvements I made?" Harry refused to respond, just tightening his grip on his wand. "Oh I see." If possible, his look turned even more condescending. "How about we test out that prophecy you and Dumbledore are taking so much stock in. Care to finish our duel from two years ago?"

The Dark Lord waved one of hands to the side causing the one creature, that used to be a man, to back up. The two began to circle each other. Voldemort's gaze remained locked on Harry with a maniacal grin. He was clearly taking great pleasure from his current predicament. Harry on the other hand was coming up with the beginnings of a plan. He just needed to keep Voldemort circling till he could get his own back to the big hole in the front wall.

"Are you sure you want to duel? I don't remember it going so well for you last time?"

Voldemort scowled at the reminder, "I'll admit the result was undesirable, but that won't be happening again tonight. Things have changed since then." Silence stretch out between the two of them, until Harry was in position. He was just about to say something when Voldemort beat him to it. In a stroke of luck he'd stopped just where he wanted him to, opening his arms wide. "I'll even give you the first shot."

Without wasting any further words, and using the smirk on his enemies face to fuel his rage, Harry poured everything he had into his next spell, "BOMBARDA!"

The massive punch like wave of force rocketed from his wand, flew over Voldemort's shoulder and absolutely obliterated the wall behind him.

Voldemort clucked his tongue disdainfully, "I would have thought you would have been taught to aim better. The standards at Hogwarts must be slipping horrendously."

"I wasn't aiming for you," Harry answered with a smirk of his own.

Voldemort's eyes widened dramatically as a loud creaking groan was heard. His head whipped upwards, but before he could do anything the entire second storey came crashing down onto his head.

Stumbling backwards away from the house, now completely in shambles, Harry turned towards the street and began to run. He was under no presumption that he'd actually been able to kill Voldemort. He just hoped he'd slowed him down.

To his surprise something suddenly slammed into his side, sending him sprawling across the grass. Blinking his eyes, trying to clear the disorientation, he saw the form of a third creature. He couldn't help but wonder how many of his followers Voldemort had turned into these bloody things.

Before he knew it, it was moving towards him. Harry only just got his arm in time to block the things claws from tearing out his throat, though he did receive a deep gash on said arm instead.

Unable to keep in the small cry and the unexpected pain, Harry managed to leverage his feet underneath him and give a big kick that sent it reeling backwards. This only bought him a few minutes respite though, as it was back at him again.

What happened next, Harry would swear happened in slow motion. The creature once more came down on top of him, trying to use its superior mass to pin down. Harry was used to this though, seeing as it's the same tactics his cousin had used on him his whole life, so he'd become quite proficient at wiggling his way out of those types of situations. Unfortunately, this time when he did so it caused the creature to roll off his torso and onto his one arm and hand. The resultant snapping sound seemed unnaturally loud in the night. Eyes widening in horror, he took in the splintering wood of his wand under the creature's back.

Not knowing what to do, Harry stared at the beautiful red and gold coloured feather now sticking out of his hand, proudly exposed to the air. Harry made sure to note for future reference that Phoenix Feathers do not seem to react well to whatever magic Voldemort had used on his followers. As the writhing creature came down on his hand again, the feather seemed to stick to its back, bursting into intense golden flames.

The following sound would send shivers down his spine for the rest of his life whenever he thought of it. Whatever these things were, Harry was now sure they were not even remotely human anymore. The scream it let out as it was consumed by the magical fire could chill even the most strong willed of men.

With a final explosion, the flaming corpse went flying through the air impacting the ruined house that used to be Number Four Privet Drive. Without waiting any further, Harry turned away to run once again. He made it out onto the street this time before he was stopped again.

Something heaving came down on his shoulder, and Harry swung out with his fists, seeing as that was all he had left. They impacted something hard that let out a grunt but didn't release their grip.

"It's just me laddie," a voice wheezed out.

"Professor!" He only just made out the magical twirling eye on his assailant. "Wha-" Before he could finish the question the grip on his shoulder tightened considerably.

With a pop they were gone.

Despite what you may think after growing up in a cupboard, Harry had never been claustrophobic… well… until now that is. He felt like he was be pressed in by all sides, like an incredible pressure was forcing all the air out of his lungs, and in more in more plain terms, he felt like he was being forced down a narrow tube in which he didn't even come close to fitting.

Harry didn't really start to panic though until he felt Moody's grip on his shoulder start to loosen. As soon as he did the forces around him seemed to increase even more. Fearing that he would get stuck wherever he was, Harry grabbed onto the old wizard's hand tightly, unconsciously forcing his own magic into their current process.

Just when he thought he might suffocate, it all stopped with a loud pop. Harry stumbled forward, catching himself on a brick wall. Regaining his breath, Harry looked around, seeing they were in some kind of alley somewhere.

A strangled cough from behind him, drew his attention to the fact that Moody was on the ground, struggling weekly. "Professor!"

He hurried to the man's side in concern helping him into a sitting position.

"I keep telling you I-" he began to cough, a spray of red spittle flying from his mouth, "I'm not a damn professor." Harry finally got a look at his injuries. He had several cuts and scratches over his already scarred body, and what looked like an extremely deep cut on his stomach.

Harry made to stand, "I need to get you help. A doctor, or a healer-"

He stopped as felt that steel grip on his arm again. "It's of no use lad. My times finally come. I'm just sorry I couldn't get you further. You should be able to make it to Grimmauld Place from here."

"No! I'm not leaving you! If I just get some help I can save you. You're not goi-"

"Just let an old man die in peace. I've lived a long life. I'd rather go out fighting for what's right anyhow." His grip tightened once again. "You get yourself to Dumbledore you hear me! I fear he's the only one who has a chance of protecting you now. I don't know what deals the Dark Tosser has made this time, but I know he's gone too far. It's unnatural whatever he did. There are more powerful forces in the universe that will be hunting him now."

"I- I... " Harry didn't know what to say. He wasn't even close to being over the death of his godfather, and now Moody was dying on him too. He didn't know the man that well, but he had done a lot to protect him over the last year.

"I don't want none of that. Here." He suddenly placed something in his hands. Looking down he saw it was his wand. "You'll be needing it more than me."

"I- thank you."

The retired Auror began to cough again, wheezing as he tried to get a breath in. It finally subsided for a moment, as he turned to look at Harry with both his real eye and magical one. "Make sure you kill that dark bastard for me." And then his body went limp. One eye staring ahead without seeing, the magical one unmoving for the first time that Harry had ever seen.

Getting back to his feet, Harry fought back against the waves of grief that threatened to overwhelm him, as he looked down on the broken body of someone else who'd died to protect him. It was the same as same as Cedric. The same as his parents. How many others would die in his place? Did this prophecy condemn not only him, but all those around him to a life of tragedy?

Stumbling back, Harry tried to take a deep breath. His heart was racing out of control, and knew he could not afford to break down here. He had to do like Mad-Eye said. Get away. Find Grimmauld Place. Find Dumbledore.

Turning around Harry started down the alley, knowing he'd need to figure out where in London he currently was. A swirling vortex of dark energy started to condense into being before him. It appeared that normal apparition didn't have enough flair anymore. Voldemort and the Bellatrix-creature faded into view, blocking his only escape. Other than the one that died by fire, apparently the second story of Number Four Privet Drive only managed to take out one of these monstrosities.

Voldemort himself had an irritated scowl across his face, and unfortunately looked no worse for wear, except for his robe being a little more ruffled than before. "It's rude to leave when you have unfinished business, Harry. Luckily we'll soon be breaking you of that habit… permanently."

Harry didn't even respond to the quip. He was too angry. With a nonsensical yell of fury, Harry thrust Moody's wand forward and unleashed his magic. The massively overpowered bludgeoner that was released soared forward, but as soon as Harry cast, he could tell it wasn't his wand. Moody's wand didn't fight him, almost as if it knew its owner's last request, but it didn't feel natural either. For a second he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever find something to match his Holly and Phoenix feather wand again.

This introspection only lasted until Harry's spell impacted the shield Voldemort had raised with contemptuous ease. He got a grim sense of fascination at seeing Voldemort forced back a few steps from the force of the detonation between the two different competing magics.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed in on Harry's face, somehow suddenly seeming much more serious about their encounter. A quick motion of one hand had Bellatrix charging him while he readied himself to cast spells at the distracted teen.

Before either wizard could react, something flashed in front of their eyes and slammed into Bellatrix, knocking her to the ground. He realized to his shock that it was a woman. What immediately caught his attention was the purple blade, seemingly made entirely of energy, that was attached to her wrist and sticking into Bellatrix.

She glanced over her shoulder at Harry, "Hey! You ok? You're not hurt ar- Whoa!" The woman had jump back a few steps, coming to his side. Bellatrix, who had been lying still as if unconscious after being attacked, suddenly sprang back to her feet, attempting to take a swipe at the newcomer.

"What is she? I haven't met many things that can shrug off my Psychic Blade like that." Harry finally turned to get a good look at her, and when did he realized immediately it probably hadn't been a good idea. The long bright purple hair he could deal with, seeing as he'd gotten to know Tonks over the past year, and her shade of bubblegum pink was even brighter, but what she was wearing certainly grabbed his attention. Harry didn't know how to describe it except to him he thought it looked remarkably like a one piece bathing suit. The woman's legs were completely bare except for knee-high boots, and the outfit itself was completely form fitting, showing both her shapely posterior, and flaunting her other assets as well.

Fighting for control of his suddenly hormone driven thoughts, Harry dragged his eyes away from her body, before meeting her gaze head on. Despite what many may think due to his age, and that he was in fact a celebrity, Harry didn't have much luck or experience with the fairer sex. He was definitely interested, but both a lack of positive role models growing up and routinely having to fight for his life had put a damper on this area of his social life. The whole situation with Cho Chang the year before had been a mess.

"I don't know what he's done to her, but she used to be human… and I'm… err... fine. Thanks."

"Just what we needed this morning… great! Looks like I'll have to get serious." She mumbled to herself, before continuing in a louder voice. "I'm Psylocke by the way. Sorry we couldn't meet under more pleasant circumstances."

Without further ado she was moving, sword in hand. Harry hadn't even noticed her holding it before, but he now spotted the sheath strapped to her back. He recognized the style as being japanese… a katana he thought it was called, but wasn't sure. He didn't know too much about swords. As he watched, her sword seemed to come alive with the same pulsing purple light as that dagger had been made of earlier.

Shaking his head, Harry readied Moody's wand, trying to figure out how this girl, Psylocke, was doing what she was. She was obviously magical, based on the abilities she displayed, but what confused him most of all was her lack of wand, but he wasn't going to worry about that now.

Her first strike was strong and precise, and cut straight through the ritually reinforced skin of Bellatrix Lestrange's arm. Snarling in pain, she lunged forward, Psylocke had already been retreating, and managed to dodge out of the way easily. Harry didn't even get the chance to contemplate helping her end the fight as he was immediately put on the defensive as Voldemort unleashed his fury upon him.

He spent all his time over the next minute, ducking down, dodging side to side, and shielding when he could, with no chance to retaliate. "Why won't you just die!" Voldemort was raging now. "How many more will jump in front of you? Even the great Alaster Moody gave his life for you" The Dark Lord's eyes swept over the corpse farther down the alley behind Harry.

Feeling his rage building again at the reminder, Harry thrust Moody's wand before him once more. Faster than he could see, Voldemort's wand had flicked outwards, and Harry felt a tug in his hands as the wand was forced from him. It spun through the air for a moment, before Voldemort snagged it out of the air with another deft movement.

He eyed it carefully, "This isn't your wand Potter. I wonder why you wouldn't be using it…" Suddenly he began to smirk,"unless something has already happened to it… Oh well." With a resounding crack, he snapped Moody's wand in two. "It doesn't matter anyway."

Harry felt his hopes shatter along with that wand. He was no match for Voldemort even before, when he was armed. What chance did he have now? As if to compound that fact, Voldemort flicked his wand, sending an unseen force careening towards him. The initial impact knocked the breath from his lungs, but it was hitting the brick wall after that left him crumpled on the ground, completely disorientated.

Blinking rapidly, trying to clear the ringing in his head, Harry finally got his eyes to focus on what was going on in front of him just in time to see Psylocke decapitate Bellatrix. He had to blink a few more times to make sure he had in fact seen it correctly and this hadn't been a hallucination brought on by a concussion. He had seen it correctly.

Suddenly, she was charging at Voldemort himself. Before he could shout a warning, she'd been blasted back as well, sent sprawling across the pavement.

"Foolish girl! Did you really think you could take on the greatest wizard this world has ever seen?" He had his wand leveled towards her, the tip already starting to glow a sickly green.

Harry's mind blanked. He didn't really know this girl. He didn't even know her name, having easily realized that Psylocke wasn't her real one. He wouldn't allow anyone else to die for him!

"NO!" He thrust both hands forward, not really knowing what he was doing. A wave of golden energy shot outwards, hitting Voldemort's wand arm, resulting in a sickening crack, and the dark wizard flying backwards through wall behind him.

Harry turned and rushed over to his downed companion. "Are you alright?"

"Yea I'm fine," she grimaced slightly, but took his hand and allowed Harry to help her up. "Nice shot, by the way. Thought I was goner back there for a moment."

Harry blushed, still unused to receiving complements. Looking her over once again, Harry just realized she was younger than he'd initially thought. She was still a few years older than himself, but was easily within her very early twenties.

"You'll pay for that Potter!" Voldemort had managed to crawl his way out of the rubble. This time, he was in fact looking a little worse for wear, but even as he watched him, his injuries started to heal. Within a minute even his broken arm was set back in place. "You should have just died all those years ago like you were supposed to, it would have been painless then. Now I'll make sure you suffer. This ends tonight!"

"I agree Voldemort, but I don't think it will be the result you are hoping for." The voice boomed down into the alley, startling it's three inhabitants. As Harry turned towards the source, he couldn't help but gape at what he saw. A man was floating at the entrance of the Alley without aid of a broomstick, silhouetted by the nearly full moon. He looked to be middle aged, with dark hair streaked with grey, a powerful build, and most prominently wearing a crimson cloak with a high collar that fluttered around him.

"Who are you?" Voldemort was eyeing the man warily as if trying to assess the level of threat they posed.

"My name is Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme of this dimension. I cannot allow you to harm these children." He didn't notice the scoffs nor affronted look the two in question had at their description, and continued on unhampered. "You have broken the sacred laws of magic by destroying the first seal on the Hell Lord Lucifer's cage, and by bringing demons into our realm. I ask that you surrender peacefully."

Voldemort snarled, "Just make me."

"So be it."

There was silence for a moment before all hell broke loose. Voldemort struck first.

Dozens of curses left Voldemort's wand of varying colours all honing in on their target.

The man raised his hands, and spoke, his voice booming out into the night as if it were several people speaking at once, "I summon the Seven Rings Of Raggadorr!"

There was a flash of light, and then seven glowing blue rings surrounded the Sorcerer Supreme. The moment Voldemort's magic touched them they were deflected away into the night. The man slowly began to descend down to the ground, allowing the Dark Lord to continue to pummel on his defenses to no effect.

Suddenly a series of pops were heard through the night. Harry immediately saw Dumbledore at the front of the group. Several Order members behind him, as well as what seemed to be a dozen Aurors, and what looked to be the new Minister for Magic himself.

Strange looked over his shoulder to see the new arrivals as well, and Voldemort capitalized on his momentary distraction.

"Avada Kedavra!" The bolt of green magic shot forward hungrily.

Strange's head whipped around, his eyes narrowed. He made a weird sign with his hands in front of his chest. "Bath me in your light Agamotto!"

The large golden necklace on his chest suddenly opened up, allowing an intense golden light to shine forth. The killing curse that had closed half the distance between them flickered and died.

"Impossible!"

"For a wizard perhaps."

Yet the light didn't stop. It continued on until it fell upon the Dark Lord himself.

"Aaaghhhh!" Voldemort screeched in pain. "What is this?"

"You are feeling the full weight of the judgment of Agamotto. He finds your soul lacking."

With a incoherent snarl of rage, Voldemort let out a blast of crimson energy. For the first time, Strange went truly on the defensive. He swirled his cloak around him covering his body from the blast, though it did still send him tumbling.

When he came to a stop, he was quick to jump to his feet, standing at full height, his keen eyes watching the dark wizard. "This isn't over Strange!" Then he disappeared with a loud pop, leaving behind only the charred crater, created from the release of his power.

"No. Unfortunately it is not…" the sorcerers words were for himself but Harry managed to pick up on them.

Harry wasn't sure what he had just witnessed. He thought seeing Voldemort and Dumbledore dueling had been like seeing two titans vying for dominance, but this had been on a whole nother level. What was a sorcerer supreme and how had that man, Dr. Strange he called himself, shut down the killing curse like that. His spells had been unlike anything Harry had ever seen, and he hadn't even used a wand.

He turned to ask Psylocke if she knew anything, only to find her gone. Craning his neck side to side, and to the above rooftops, he had no idea where she could have gone. Shrugging it off for a moment, he focused back on the situation developing in front of him.

"And might I ask who you are?" Harry recognized the man speaking as the new Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. His picture had been in the paper a lot lately after Fudge had been sacked. He looked angry. "Fighting you-know-who in the middle of a muggle area! I could have you thrown into Azkaban for that you know."

"Ah, Minister Scrimgeour, just as willing to convict people without trials as your predecessors I see." The Minister's jaw slammed close. Harry was too far away to tell for sure, but he was pretty sure he was grinding his teeth in fury. "As for me… My name is Doctor Stephen Strange, current Sorcerer Supreme."

There was that title again. Harry had no clue what it meant, and neither did many of the people currently in attendance if the mutters and confused looks were any indication. Despite that, there were a few who obviously did, as they were now looking at the man with a range from awe to outright fear.

Harry spotted Dumbledore heading towards him. He could tell he knew what was going on here but couldn't pick up on any emotions on his lined face. "Harry! Are you alright my boy? Are you injured at all?"

"I'm fine Professor, just a littl-" suddenly he winced when he moved his one arm. He'd forgotten that one of those creatures had gotten him there. It was starting to hurt now that his adrenalin was wearing off. "Just got a bit cut up I guess. It's not as bad as-" He stopped feeling suddenly choked up, as he glance back over his shoulder.

"Ah, Alastor my old friend," Dumbledore's head drooped in sadness, "Ever a warrior's heart you did possess." he remained silent for a moment. "Do not worry yourself overmuch much Harry. I fear he would have preferred it this way. He was not the kind to allow himself to grow old and weak in his bed."

Harry discreetly wiped away the tears that had been prickling at the corner of his eyes. Allowing his Headmaster his moment for introspection. He couldn't help but smile slightly at the similarity between his words and Moody's last.

It was Dumbledore that broke the silence a moment later, "Now! I never did specialize in healing magic, but I may be able to help." Gripping his arm, the old wizard carefully peeled away Harry's bloody shirt sleeve. "Ah this is deep… let me see what I can do."

Dumbledore waved his wand in an intricate pattern over the wound, releasing what appeared to be a twinkling silver mist. The pain slowly started to recede, but the cut itself only grew slightly smaller in size. Dumbledore frowned

"How did you received this cut?"

"It was those creatures Voldemort turned his Death Eaters into."

"I think it would be best if we got you to see a healer right away Harry. It usually only cursed and poisoned wounds that resist magical healing."

"He will be fine. He just needs some rest." A new voice joined the conversation making Harry jump. Dumbledore looked a little startled as well, something he was not accustomed to seeing on his Headmaster's face. "Any wounds inflicted by demons are notoriously hard to heal by magic. I see no additional taints upon his person currently."

It seems he'd finished talking to the Minister, if his scowling face as he and the Aurors apparated away were any indication. "Ah Doctor Strange."

"Albus Dumbledore I presume."

"You've heard of me?" Dumbledore looked mildly surprised.

"Of course. Even if the ICW does value their independence so much, they are still under my purview, and I have always tried to make sure to keep abreast of current events." There was tense silence for a moment. Harry wasn't quite sure what was going on, but it seemed a battle of wills was taking place between the two men. "I should recognize the man who defeated Grindelwald anyway." The tension, broke while Dumbledore looked away sadly for some reason.

"Yes… Gellert was sadly misguided, as is Tom, but he is now beyond redemption." Dumbledore sighed. "I never thought he'd go so far as to deal with demons. I assume you will be getting directly involved now?"

Strange has his eyebrow raised questioningly but nodded anyway, "Yes. With Voldemort's actions, he has made this a matter for the Sorcerer Supreme."

"I see." Dumbledore had never looked more weary. "I would be happy to share some of the information I have on him sometime soon. We could set an appointment to meet. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get Harry, here, somewhere safe so I can talk to him about what happened tonight."

"Actually, I wanted to speak to you more before you both left. I have decided, if he is in agreement of course, that I want to take Mr. Potter here as an apprentice."

They both froze. An apprentice? He didn't even know who this guy really was, and he wanted to take him as an apprentice? Flashes of the powerful magic Dr. Strange used flew through Harry's mind. He needed to learn how to do that kind of magic, if he ever wanted to stand a chance against Voldemort and fulfill the prophecy.

Dumbledore seemed to recover first. "Harry is a wizard though. He has been attending Hogwarts for years. I doubt a Sorcerer like you has much they could teach him, and even if you did, he would have to leave his friends behind."

Strange eyed Dumbledore impassively for a moment, before speaking. "Mr. Potter may be of the ability to use wizarding magic, but the fact remains that he has the capability to become a sorcerer. A powerful at that. He could remain in contact with his friends, but isn't it more important for him to receive training to complete his destiny." The Headmaster of Hogwarts looked surprised. "Don't look so shocked Dumbledore. The marks of fate are all over his aura. It is easy for one such I to see that he is prophecy bound."

"Yes well… there is important knowledge I need to impress upon him within the next school year. Subjects only I can share with him."

"Does it have to do with the residue in his aura that shows that up until recently he was hosting a piece of foreign soul in his scar."

Dumbledore blanched, "How do you- wait… did you just say that up until recently- as in it is no longer there?"

"That is correct."

Dumbledore suddenly stood a little taller, a large smile breaking out across his aged face, and a few tears gathering in the corner of his eyes, as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"What do you mean a foreign soul? My aura? What are you to talking about?" Harry interrupted, the questions finally becoming too much to hold in.

"I believe Dr. Strange will be able to explain that as well as I could. If you wish to go through with the apprenticeship, I will not stop you. It is an extremely rare opportunity, that will most likely open many more doors to you that you currently have. Of course, you would be missed at Hogwarts, but all must follow their own path in life. The choice is yours Harry. You are old enough to make your own decision."

Harry looked between the two men before him. On one hand, he didn't want to leave Hogwarts, the first home he'd ever known, yet at the same time he could clearly picture Ron and Hermione, broken and battered as the body of Mad-Eye behind him. He hadn't been strong enough to save him. He'd seen the types of magic Strange harnessed. He would miss his friends, but he needed to learn how to do that. He needed to be able to protect those he cared about.

"I'll do it." He looked up to the middle-aged sorcerer, meeting his grey eyes. "I'll become your apprentice. I'll become strong enough to protect those who can't protect themselves."

The sorcerer held his gaze for a moment, as if testing him before nodding. "It's a strong oath and a worthy goal."

Then Doctor Strange turned, and swung his arm in a wide arc created a large circular doorway in the air before them. It was time to step through into his new life.

"How did your patrol go, Betsy?" A voice called out as soon as the woman also known as Psylocke entered the lighthouse. Heading into a lighthouse would be an uncommon experience for most, but that wasn't the case for her. She frequented said lighthouse quite often seeing as it was the headquarters of the organization known as EXCALIBUR.

"Bit more exciting than usual, Brian." She replied as she came to a stop in front of the source of the voice. The speaker was actually a large muscled man with blonde hair. Most would know him as Captain Britain, but to Betsy he was her twin brother Brian.

"Oh?"

"The wizards are getting all riled up."

"Again? I'd mutterings that Voldemort was back again, but not much more than that."

"Well they were out in force tonight."

"What happened?"

"I came across this teen being attacked by… well… I wasn't really sure what it was at first- it didn't really look human- but I later found out that was Voldemort himself."

"You fought Voldemort?!" Brian's voice started to get louder.

"Only briefly," she dismissed his concerns. "I was more focused on these weird minions he had. My psionic dagger barely did anything to it. I had to use my real sword to get any kind of affect. Oh and I'm pretty sure that kid was Harry Potter too."

Her brothers eyes were nearly popping out of his skull, "Maybe all the fame around him isn't for nothing than, if he was actually out fighting Voldemort."

She shrugged, "He seemed ok. All of this isn't even the weird part though. Strange showed up and fought him off."

"The Sorcerer Supreme directly got involved in British Wizarding Affairs?" His brow furrowed. "Theres gotta be something more going on here than we know about."

"There is," she nodded. "I got out of there pretty quickly after that, but I stayed close by to eavesdrop. Strange accused Voldemort of breaking one of the seals keeping Lucifer in Hell." The British superhero paled. "Even more interesting is that he said that Potter has the ability to become a Sorcerer and took him as an apprentice. They're probably already in New York by now"

"A Sorcerer with the powers of a Wizard… that should be impossible." He added weakly.

"I did see him perform something that looked awfully similar to Sorcery that sent Voldemort flying through a brick wall."

"Really?" She nodded, as he gathered his thoughts. "Things are changing. The balance of power as we know it is shifting. Lucifer can't be allowed to rise. We also need to keep an eye on Potter. I'll see what my contacts in the U.S. can put together. If you hear anything about him returning to the U.K., you need to set up a tail, and make sure you let me know."

"Yes brother."

"Where are we?" Despite the evening he'd just had, Harry's voice was laced with awe. Hogwarts had always been the epitome of magic for him, but this place was that and so much more. The main staircase that he could see seemed to stretch on forever. It even seemed to bend, and twist at impossible angles when looked at out of the corner of his eye. Of course every time he tried to get a closer look it seemed to snap back into an acceptable reality.

"It is my Sanctum Sanctorum, or rather my home. We are in New York City, if that's what you were wondering as well."

"New York? Like in America? I didn't know you could apparate that far?"

Strange asked with a raised eyebrow, "Well we didn't apparate now did we?"

Thinking about the strange hole they'd stepped through in the air, Harry realized his mistake. "No, I guess not."

"It was an interdimensional portal to take us instantly from London to New York."

"Will I learn how to do that? I much prefer it to apparition!"

"I don't blame you for that," Strange chuckled, "and yes you will… in time." He gestured around the big foyer they were standing in, "So what do you think?"

"Thoughts to returning back to his earlier ponderings, Harry couldn't contain his excited smile, "It's amazing!"

"Oh?" He looked amused. "You've only been in one room."

"Yes, but it's just so magical… I can feel it."

"That's not something taught at Hogwarts." Harry was being studied closely now. "You have good instincts. It'll make you easier to teach." He observed him again for another moment before speaking. "I know you'll probably be feeling pretty tired after everything you went through, but I'm assuming you want some answers too. It might be best for you to stay up a bit anyway, it'll help you adjust to the time change."

Suddenly the weight of the night's events all dropped onto his shoulders. Meeting strange, accepting the internship, and traveling halfway across the world in an instant had driven it all out of his mind for a few moments. Somewhere in the back of his head a logical voice, that sounded much too similar to Hermione, was explaining to him how nothing that had happened was his fault, but the much louder voice of his guilt was prevailing. He couldn't help but feel guilty about his relatives death. It was true that he disliked them strongly, to put it mildly, but they were still human beings, and they had died because he lived at their house. Mad 'Eye' Moody was the same. Sure he'd probably still be fighting Voldemort even if Harry wasn't around, but he had only died this night because he'd been the one selected for guard duty.

"So what do you think?" Strange's question snapped him out of his dark thoughts.

Finding some new determination, Harry straightened his shoulders. Even if he did hold himself accountable for everything had happened, he had a chance now. Until now no one, including Dumbledore, had been willing to train him in advanced magic. He'd seen the way Strange had fought off Voldemort. He needed to learn to do that and the first step to achieving that goal was understanding just what the bloody hell was going on. "I want answers."

Strange nodded. "Good. Let's talk in the library." He began to walk away before looking over his shoulder. "Oh… and stay close. Until you get used to the house it can be anywhere from confusing to downright dangerous to move through."

With gulp, Harry hurried to catch up. He was glad he did, as Strange's words proved to be completely true. They went up several stories of the large central staircase he'd glanced at earlier. It seemed normal while he was on it, except for the fact it still seemed to stretch upwards forever. There was one point though, where he'd glanced over the railing only the see another staircase running up the opposite wall at an impossible angle, with two people climbing. It took him a second to realize he was seeing himself and Doctor Strange from above.

He looked at the Sorcerer in front of with his eyes wide, What is THAT?"

Strange stopped, turning around with an absent minded expression, "Hmm? What are you talking about?"

"That over there!" Harry turned and pointed to what he'd seen only to find the image gone. "It… it was ther- N-n-never mind."

Strange shrugged, and began climbing again. Feeling thoroughly confused, and a little freaked out, Harry kept his gaze focused on Strange's red cloak before him. Reaching the landing he desired, they turned off down another series of corridors. Even when doing his best not notice anything strange going on around him, Harry was pretty sure they'd gone in a circle a few times only to enter a different doorway each time. One of the times they'd gone down that stretch of hallway, Harry even had to follow Strange by stepping onto the wall, then the ceiling, the other wall, and back down onto the floor as gravity seemed to shift around. It brought back memories of the golden mist from the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, though he was pretty sure just closing his eyes would help here. It wasn't an illusion.

"Ah, here it is. I'd started to wonder where it had gotten off to." The complete nonchalance with which he spoke, started to make Harry question if he knew what he'd gotten himself into. Strange opened the door and stepped into the new room, Harry following at his heels.

"Wow!" His doubts were forgotten once again as he gazed at the marvel before him. The library was circular in shape, and much like the main staircase from earlier, it seemed to stretch upwards to infinity. All the shelves were set into the walls around them, jampacked with books. Harry couldn't help murmuring to himself, "Hermione would have a field day with this."

"It is quite impressive isn't it? Perks of being Sorcerer Supreme I guess."

It was that title again. Harry didn't know what it was, but it sounded impressive. Dumbledore had known it, and so had the Minister. His old Headmaster had even seemed worried when hearing it at first, more in a weary way than outright fear. "What exactly is the Sorcerer Supreme?"

Strange sighed, "Why don't we sit down." He indicated two plush armchairs beside a large fireplace, all of which Harry hadn't noticed till that minute. At this point, he wouldn't have been surprised if it hadn't been there a minute before. They both sat. "This will most likely be a long explanation, but I'll have to give you a very general overview to start with so the more detailed stuff can make sense. Got it?"

Harry nodded, "Good. First of all what you need to understand is that there are two different types of human magic users on Earth: Sorcerers and Wizards. The Sorcerer Supreme is the leader of the Sorcerers, charged with the protection the Earth and this dimension. Because of that the Sorcerer Supreme also a somewhat cross between leader and ruler of all human magic users Earth."

Harry was staring at him wide eyed, realizing just who Strange was. "But what's the difference between a Wizard and a Sorceror?"

"Ah, a good question. Both deal with and use magic in different ways, but first you have to understand that there are actually two different types of wizards out there, even if they are the same physiologically."

"There are more than one type of wizard?" Harry's head was spinning.

"Yes! And we have Merlin, who you Brits love so much, to thank for it. When he was Sorcerer Supreme, he had the brilliant idea of helping the Wizards, who at the time were attempting to start self governing, set up an international organization separate from the Sorcerers to help with that goal, and to regulate their use of magic. It worked and that group is now known as the International Confederation of Wizards. Of course another large group of Wizards disagreed with certain restrictions being suggested, and wanted harsher restrictions in others areas. They split off to form their own group which later became known as the White Council. For the most part, there are some of both types of wizards in all the countries around the world, except for Britain of course. Worshipping Merlin as they did, they all took the teachings of the ICW to heart, and it's remained that way since. They are so paranoid about keeping true to what they believe is the proper type of magic, the Ministry has suppressed all knowledge of everything else. They can't make it illegal to talk about, but they do their best to make the information forgotten. It's why only some British wizards know about all this, and if they do they often keep it to themselves."

"Thats a lot to take in, but you still haven't explained what makes these two different types of wizards different? Was it just the groups they belong to or is there more to it than that?"

"Hold on, I'm getting there. Like I said before, physiologically, they're the same. The magic you know and use comes from inside you. You don't create it, but your body does internalize it, and when you use it, you draw it from within. That about sums it up. The Wizards of the White Council however, while being the same as the ones you know, also can draw energy from other sources, be it from their own body or their environment around them. An example would be during a large thunderstorm. A White Council Wizard would be able to tap into that energy, and use it to fuel their spells. It would be an extremely dangerous and frowned on procedure, but it can be done. Your ancestors labeled that kind of magic as improper, and destroyed all knowledge of it. Because of the differences in this usage of magic, White Council wizards tend to use staffs, and other tools, while, as you know, the ICW wizards use wands."

"I can't believe none of this is taught!" Harry seethed. He felt cheated in a way… lied to. "You know what, I can believe it. All the Ministry does is dig their head in the bloody sand and believe whatever they want to believe."

"That's the sentiment shared by many magic users around the globe. Welcome to the club." Strange grinned. "Now, I can finally get back to your original question. You understand how Wizard magic works, but you asked about Sorcerers. Sorcerers don't have magic inside of them at all like Wizards do. If they have the aptitude, and train hard, they can reach out to the very force of magic itself, and will it to follow their bidding. But make no mistake, magic is alive, and you cannot force it to do anything."

"M-m-magic is alive?"

"Of course it is! Think back on everything you've accomplished in the past. The most powerful spells you've cast. The feeling you felt when you arrived here today. Do you really doubt it?"

Before he even knew what he was doing, Harry was shaking his head. "No, I don't doubt it." And funnily enough he didn't. He knew what Strange was getting at. That feeling in his body when he was at Hogwarts, or even when he'd arrived here today. Magic felt like life incarnate.

"Good. Now, if you take one thing out of this talk though, let it be that all three types of magic users are both stronger and weaker that each other in different ways. All of them of suited for different tasks. Even if they all have to answer to the Sorcerer Supreme, they are no better than anyone else." Harry nodded.

"The other thing I was wondering, was what you meant when you were talking something about the soul and my aura?"

Strange sighed once again, "This one's a little difficult. It has to do with Voldemort and his actions. I don't know as much about the man personally as Dumbledore, but even I can tell you he has an obsession with avoiding death. Just look at his name! It's french for literally 'Flight from Death.' The point I'm trying to make is that Voldemort took steps to try and make himself immortal. In that pursuit, he created something called Horcruxes. An Egyptian invention if I remember correctly, the wizard in question splits their very soul through an act of cold-blooded murder. Then through a ritual, a piece of soul is encapsulated inside an object. As long as that object remains safe, the wizard in question cannot die. That's why Voldemort did not die when his rebounding killing curse hit him."

Harry looked startled at Strange's revelation. "I told you I know who you are. I may not interact with Wizards that often, especially within Britain, but I do keep up on the news."

"Oh." Harry ducked his head a bit. It seemed nowhere was safe from the fame of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Chin up Harry. Anyway, as I was saying before, Voldemort created a Horcrux, and not just one if I am correct. I believe that the night he attack you and your parents all those years ago, Voldemort's soul as damaged as it was, splintered again when he was hit by his rebounding curse. As the main chunk of his soul fled, this new separate piece latched onto the only living thing in the room, you… or more precisely the open cut on your forehead."

As the realization of what Strange was talking about finally started to sink in, Harry could feel himself start to panic, "Th-th-there is a p-piece of Voldemort's soul inside of me?" Suddenly Harry felt as if his very blood was burning through his veins, though it surprisingly didn't hurt. He could feel waves of something coming off of him. The sound of groaning wood filled the room, as a magical charge built in the air. It made the air feel heavy.

"Harry. Harry!" He managed to focus his eyes on Strange. "You need to calm down. The soul fragment from Voldemort is gone. You're all clear. Calm down. Deep breathes. Ya, that's it. You're getting it." Harry took a deep measured breath. Slowing down his erratic heartbeat. The burning and strange magical pressure had disappeared.

"Whew!" Strange slumped back in his chair. "I almost had to knock you out. You were going to burn down the library! I'm not sure how you managed that. I put several ancient fire suppressant spells and other wards in here, but you were pretty close to pushing them to their breaking point."

"I almost burned it down?" He asked feeling horrified.

"Yep. Let me tell you, I wouldn't have wanted to be standing next to you when that happened if we weren't in a room warded like this one is. I would have been roasted. It's quite impressive actually. Now we just need to work on your control."

"I-I'm sorry-" he waved him off. "So you said it's gone? For real?"

"It is. I'm sorry for freaking you out like I did. I should have warned you first."

"B-but how? If I've had it in my head for so long, how is it gone?"

"It's because of the ritual Voldemort underwent last night. To get the effects he desired, he had to sacrifice all his Horcruxes. It would take away that protection, but he gained others. Did you notice anything before the attack last night?"

Harry's thoughts immediately jumped to the episode he'd had after waking. The extreme pain in his scar. The blood and other black gunk that had come pouring out. "Yea." Now that he thought about it, Harry realized he'd never cleaned up. Looking down at his shirt he could still see the copious amount of dried blood, and strange black stains. Reaching up he could feel it on his face too. What kind of first impression was he making.

Strang noticed his actions, "After we finish I can show your to your room, and you'll be able to clean up."

"What about all my stuff? It was in the house…" He trailed off.

"What we could recover is already in your new room. My manservant Wong, who you will most likely meet tomorrow, went and got it for you." Harry nodded. He wasn't sure how this Wong had known where to go or even known to get his stuff in the first place. Doctor Strange had not been given any chance to instruct him to do so. He brushed it off as another strange inconsistency of being around this man.

"So what did the ritual that Voldemort perform do? Was it something to do with what he did to his followers? He seemed more powerful too."

"I guess you could say he made a deal with the devil… literally."

Harry laughed, then seeing Strange's serious expression, sobered up pretty quickly. "You're serious? The devil is real?"

"All the gods are real. Greek, Roman, Norse, Egyptian, Celtic, and all the others. And yes, he did actually make a deal with the the devil. Good old Hell Lord Lucifer. He's been locked up in Hell for millennia, only able to exert the barest fraction of his power on Earth. In exchange for the supposed power to kill you, Voldemort traded away seven little pieces of his soul, and agreed to break all the seals binding Lucifer. That's why I stepped in."

"How am I supposed to stop that? This is crazy! I can't kill him!"

"Who says you have to stop him?"

"This damned prophecy Professor Dumbledore told me about."

"Ahh… so I was right then…. Even so, I wouldn't count you out yet. You have incredible potential, and a lot to learn. I did mention you are the only known human to have the capability to be both a wizard and a sorcerer right?"

Harry shook his head dumbly, reeling with that new information.

"Oh I didn't? Well there's that too I guess." Harry still remained silent, finally overloaded with all the information he'd received. "I think it might be time for you to head to bed now."

"Is this the right one?" Harry paled dramatically and his eyes widened. He slammed the door as fast as humanly possible. "Nope, not that one."

Harry been wandering around for a while. Doctor Strange had helped him find the bedroom where he would be staying after the end of their conversation the night before. He'd barely taken the time to check over his recovered belongings before he'd thrown himself into his new bed and fallen asleep. After waking up, feeling really hungry, he'd set off to find the kitchen. All of this is what led to his current predicament.

A loud crack and being bathed in a shower of splinters were the only indications Harry needed to know the door he'd just closed had been annihilated from existence. Harry began to run. He had no idea what was chasing him, but he was not about to let it catch him to find out. On second thought, it probably hadn't been a good idea to just start opening random doors throughout the house. It was also a good thing that throughout his life he'd become conditioned to be good at running away from things. Things as simple as his cousin and his friends, to the more mystically dangerous, like giant Basilisks, Dementors, Dragons, and such.

Turning down twisting and turning hallways, Harry continued to run through the labyrinth that was this house. Left turns, right turns, staircases up, some down. Harry was even pretty sure he'd gone by the same area more than once. What was strange now was that as soon as he'd started running, he hadn't come across any more doors. Just seamless walls.

To his relief, that pattern eventually broke. Down the end of one hallways, he could see another door. It was sitting slightly ajar. He pushed it open without a second thought, and slammed it closed behind him. Harry slumped to the ground in exhaustion, letting his back rest against the closed door. It took him a few moments to realize the sounds he was hearing were not normal for an empty room. Harry was not alone.

"Good, you found your way here. Did you sleep well?" Harry just gaped at the man as he sat reading a newspaper. It appeared like they were in some kind of kitchen. Doctor Strange was sitting at a table while another man, he was bald and looked to be of Asian descent, was moving around the kitchen, apparently preparing a meal.

Harry shakily got to his feet, and moved over to the table. He sat across from the middle aged sorceror. "What is wrong with this house?"

Strange frowned, "What do you mean? There's nothing wrong with it."

"The hallways are endless!" He exclaimed. "I'm pretty sure they are moving around too. I tried to retrace our steps from last night and got completely lost. Something from one of the rooms started chasing me too. I didn't really see what it was, but I could tell it was there. Then all the doors disappeared, and it was just plain luck I stumbled across this room here."

"This house could be potentially dangerous to those without magic, but you would have been fine. I don't think anything was actually chasing you, but I did instruct the house to help you find your way here." He smiled, which for some reason Harry did not find very reassuring. "You should be able to start finding your way around no problem, as soon as we start your training. Now, I believe I should introduce your officially to Wong."

"Greetings Master Potter." The man in question inclined his head towards Harry.

"Err… hi."

"Could I prepare anything for you to eat? I am just finishing up with the Master's meal." As he said this, he pulled out something weird, pink, and tentacled from the refrigerator and threw it into the frying pan. If the strange squealing noise was of any indication, Harry was pretty sure it had been still alive up until that point.

"What is that?" Harry asked feeling horrified.

"Stephen's long time exposure to the high levels of magic energy have made a… change in diet.. necessary to keep him healthy."

Harry turned to Strange, "It's true. It's a problem that all Sorcerers who have pushed themselves too far in their life have to face. Some combat the strain in different ways. It's all about maintaining the balance." Harry didn't think his eyes could get any wider, and Strange thankfully noticed by that point. "You don't have to worry about it. It's never affected Wizards. They are born with and host magic in their bodies for their whole lives. As I told you Sorcerers are connected to magic, but it does not reside within them. I believe with you being a combination of the two, you will be safe from any side effects that most sorcerers may face."

Harry sighed, feeling relieved. He'd been momentarily reconsidering his decision if training as a Sorcerer might do that to him. "Oh… right… good." He wasn't sure what else he could say at this point.

"I can prepare something a bit more mundane for your Harry?" Wong asked. "I was going to make some eggs up anyway."

"That sounds nice." He smiled. "Thanks Wong."

"My pleasure."

"Now I guess there a few more things to explain before we jump into your training." Harry was down in what Strange had described to be their training room after breakfast. It had turned out that Wong was indeed a good cook, and Harry had scarfed the food down quickly. It had been a challenge to try and ignore the disgusting sight of what Strange had been eating across the table though. He still wasn't sure what it was, and he wasn't very inclined to find out. The room in question actually reminded Harry of a dojo from one of Dudley's kung fu movies he'd sneaked a peek at once.

"As you know, I offered you a place as my apprentice. Apprenticeships are very prevalent with Sorcerer's and Wizards of the White Council, though not nearly as common with your type of Wizards." Strange paused, waiting for Harry, who eventually caught on and nodded to show he understood . "I did this for two reasons. The first of which is the most obvious. Voldemort needs to be stopped, and you are bound to him by prophecy. The other is that you show potential. Like I said, you are the only person I know of that has shown the potential for two types of magic. There's a good chance if I'd met you under different circumstances, I still would have made the same offer anyways."

"Ok. Does that mean we are going to start training then." Harry couldn't quite the excitement from bubbling up. He'd always loved practical lessons at Hogwarts, but this magic was even more powerful. It was something else entirely.

"Almost. I need to explain a bit more. The first thing you need to understand is that this arrangement is serious and very formal. It is expected that you will address me as Master or Master Strange from now on."

"What?" Harry's thoughts immediately focused on Voldemort, and how he forced his followers to call him similar honorifics. It was almost as if he could hear Bellatrix's sickeningly sweet voice ringing in his head. It was going on and on about her master, or her Lord. Images of her bowing down and kissing the hem of his robe assaulted him next. "No way!" Suddenly Strange's eyes seemed to flash dangerously. "That's just like what Voldemort does. I won't bow down to anyone as a slave and call them my master!"

Strange's featured softened slightly at his explanation, but his expression remained strong. "It's not about enslaving yourself to someone else. It's a matter of tradition and respect. It's the same as how you address your instructors at Hogwarts. Do you not call them Professor instead of using their given name? An apprentice uses the term Master as a sign of respect and as an acknowledgment of their authority. I understand your reluctance to use the term based on the events that have transpired in your life, and thus will look passed your outburst this time. I myself have always been a seeker of knowledge, and thus have always questioned everything. I do not discourage this practice, and will even allow you to question instructions I give you so that you can understand them, but it must be done in calm and respectful manner, and if the situation calls for it, you must obey said instructions even if I refuse to elaborate at the time. Can you do that Mr. Potter?"

Harry thought over everything he'd just heard. It didn't really seem unreasonable. It wasn't like he'd ever gone out of his way to break the rules for the sole purpose of breaking the rules. On the other hand, the idea of receiving even more restrictions on his life rubbed him the wrong way. He hated having his choice taken away, especially by adults who he'd never found to be that trustworthy anyway. Despite all this, he knew agreeing was in his best interest, so he bit the bullet, "I understand… master."

Doctor Strange smiled and nodded his head encouragingly. "Good. The same things I said apply to what I teach you. There is no book in my library that is forbidden. You may read whatever it is you like, but you will not practice any magic other than what I tell you. If you want to try anything else, you will need to ask my permission first. Some of the stuff you may read about could be dangerous without the proper experience, or even some of it forbidden to practice. Unless you agree to this, I cannot start teaching you."

Again, Harry realized this was a very fair request, but again he bristled at the idea of being told what and when he could and couldn't practice. He needed this training though, He needed to learn. Therefore, he again swallowed his pride and answered, "Yes. I understand and agree with your terms."

"Perfect! Now, let's get started. Do you know how to meditate?"

"Meditate? I-I guess. I've heard of it before," he replied.

"Good. Meditation will be the base for many of your skills so you will have to get used to it. If done properly, you should be able to sense your own magic within you. That's the first step. Try that, and tell me once you think you are able to feel and summon it up to your hand." Doctor Strange then picked up a heavy tome and started reading much to Harry's incredulity.

That was it? That was all the instruction that his master was going to give him? With a frustrated huff, he looked away and began to focus on what he thought he needed to do. He soon realized that what he was attempting wasn't going to work. It was the same as his failed Occlumency lessons with Snape the year before. The more he tried to clear his mind and relax, the opposite happened.

As time wound on, his frustration only mounted, which in turn made his attempts at meditating even worse. After an undetermined amount of time, Harry couldn't help but allow himself to peek at his master every once in awhile. He was still engrossed in his reading.

"I don't think you'll find looking at me will help you with your task," his voice made Harry jump, and yet his eyes didn't move from their page until after he'd finished speaking. Harry flushed in embarrassment under his gaze.

"But I don't know how to do it. It's just like my occlumency training. I'm just rubbish." Even to his own ears Harry sounded petulant.

Strange sighed as he set aside his book. "It's because you're thinking about it too much. What your trying to achieve is the exact opposite of that. That's not to say you aren't to be thinking at all because that's near impossible. No, what you are tyring to do is to clear out the excess clutter, enough so that you con focus completely on the present moment. No regrets tying you down, no predictions of the future to lead you astray, just what is."

Harry shook his head as if the physical action would be able to help him. Who knows, maybe it would. He tried again to no effect. Every time he tried to relax something else seemed to intrude on his thoughts. Sometimes it was even the knowledge that he was supposed to be relaxing that got him the most worked up.

The sudden weight the rested on his shoulders startled Harry. It took him a moment to realize Strange had laid his hands on his shoulders. He had to fight the urge to throw him off. He still wasn't overly comfortable with physical affection.

"Breathe."

"What?" Harry floundered.

Strange's grip tightened slightly, "I said just breathe. Nice big breathes in, and then hold it for a second, before releasing it slowly. There., now repeat. In. Hold. Out. Good. In. Hold. Out."

They continued on like this for a while, and before Harry knew it Stranges voice had fallen away. There was nothing left to him but his breathing. Nice and slow… controlled. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. Harry's other senses felt even more strongly. The taste of the somewhat musty air. The feel of the hardwood beneath him. The creaking sounds associated with any old house. It was all there. That's when Harry felt it, something else. Just below the surface. It was everywhere around him, and yet at the same time nowhere.

There was an energy humming in the walls around him. In the very air even. And then he felt it within himself too. It was even more intense there. It felt familiar. It felt alive. His eyes snapped open in shock. He pushed the feeling into his hands and saw something flash out the corner of his eye as a loud crackle was heard.

A loud snap had Harry spinning around quickly. Once again Strange was just setting aside his closed tome, and getting up from what looked to be a comfortable position in his chair. It was strange, Harry would've sworn that he had been standing behind him just moment before with his hands on his shoulders, guiding him, but now he couldn't help but feel like much more time had passed than he'd thought.

"Very good. It seems like you're making some progress. Can you do it again?"

Getting over his shock Harry did just that. He focused on recreating the surge of magic in his hand. Nothing happened. His brow furrowing he pushed harder, but he still had no result. He felt his frustration rising once again. "It's not working anymore!"

"Peace Harry." Doctor Strange smiled down at him looking amused, something Harry couldn't figure out why. "You need to relax again or you'll never get it. Feel the magic than guide it where you want it. You can't force it."

"Yes Master." Realizing he was right, Harry took another deep breath. He did as he did before. He didn't lose himself in the meditative state, but allowed himself to search for that elusive feeling. He finally found it again after a few moments. He tried to concentrate it into his hand. The first few attempts, Harry almost felt as if the magic slipped through his fingers and was lost, but on his last attempt he followed Stranges advice to the letter and was able to guide it where he wanted it… at least until he lost his concentration in his own excitement.

At Harry's dismayed look, Strange spoke again, "You'll get the hang of it. You're making good progress. The more you practice, the easier and fast you'll get at handling your magic. Eventually you'll be able to summon it up for most things with barely any thought at all."

"Practice…" Harry grumbled.

Strange laughed, "Unfortunately, it is the answer to most things. Natural talent can be a great boon and it does determine where any one person will start with a skill, but all must practice if they want to improve." Harry digested this for a moment until his master started again. "Now, let's try something else before I get into more explanations. Can you try calling up your magic again, and this time casting a spell you are familiar with? Something simple… maybe conjure a light?"

"Ok," Harry nodded hesitantly. With this new task in mind, it took him a couple tries even the magic concentrated into his hand again, but as soon as he did, he tried it. "Lumos" Nothing happened. Harry was stumped. He wasn't really sure how it would work but he figures a ball of light might have appeared in his hand since he wasn't using a wand. Suddenly the air above his hand shimmered slightly before going dark. Feeling excited, Harry held onto that feeling from before. He focused on the image wanted. "Lumos!" Just as he imagined, a white ball of light came into existence. It floated in his hand, and yet gave off no heat nor any other discernable evidence that it was there other than what they could see.

"Well done! Now let's just try one last thing. I want you to chose a colour - I don't care which - and I want you to turn the light that colour. Ok?"

"But I don't know a spell to do that?"

"Here's where I need you to stop thinking about magic like how you've been taught. I got you to do something familiar as a base point, but this will be different. That latin incantation you used before, it really doesn't do anything. You, and you alone are doing the magic. The words are there to help you focus your mind. It's a crutch really. There are some magic you'll learn later that actually require their incantations, but this is not one of them. There is no spell to change the colour, you just will it to be so."

Harry's heading was spinning with this new information, but he thought he understood what Strange was trying to say. Setting his mind on a Gryffindor red, he began attempting to do as he instructed.

"What colour did you chose?"

Surprised Harry almost lost his concentration, but he managed to keep the light aloft. "Red," he bit out.

"Good. Now you need to be able to picture the light as red just like you want it. Close your eyes. Can you do that?" Harry nodded. "Perfect, but that won't be enough. Now, picturing it that way is great, but what you need to is to believe that the light is already red. No, not just belief, you need to know it. There is no other truth about that light except that it is red. Want it, picture it, believe it, know it." His voice trailed off softly. "Know it!"

Harry's surged open at the last exclamation, just as he felt a tingle spread through his hand. The light was glowing a perfect replica of the colour on the Gryffindor banners. Grinning at his success, Harry moved to something else familiar without prompting. They were the colours he'd seen non-stop for five years, so it wasn't hard to visualize them. The light shifted to Slytherin green. Feeling even more emboldened by his success, it switched to Ravenclaw blue, and Hufflepuff yellow in rapid succession.

After that he released his hold over the magic, allowing the light to fade away, and looked up into his master's face expectantly. "Quite impressive. It seems you're already starting to get a handle on your control. Despite that, don't forget what I told you earlier. Do not try anything without getting permission from me first. Its all harmless right now, but you could easily attempt something out of your league without knowing and put yourself and others in danger."

Harry felt a little annoyed at being reminded all of this again, but knew Doctor Strange was making a good point, "I understand, and promise I'll ask you before trying anything new."

"He nodded in approval, "Good. I think it will be safe enough for you to try most of the magic you already know on your own, so feel free to do that, but if there is any spell you have even the slightest doubt about how it may react with your new method of casting, I'd like you to come see me first. Does that sound fair?"

"It does."

"Other than that, I believe I can start showing you the more traditional arcane arts. It will involve lots of study first I'm afraid. I get the feeling you're more instinctual with your magic than an academic, but you'll need to practice a bit of both if you want to go far. Apart from that, [...]

A/N: Never got any futher than this.