Summary: After losing his Godfather and dubious about what fate has planned for him, Harry takes his destiny into his own hands, after talking with an old General on Vacation.

AN: I have been originally posting this on AO3 but decided to go back and revamp it a bit, so while I am doing that, I will also post what I have so far here on ffnet.

Please be aware this fic is rife with inconsistencies. I do not know much about the US Military. it is being written for my personal pleasure and keeping my hand in the writing game only. so please don't send me messages about how incorrect i am about said above. I know i am, thanks.

Grey in the Stars

Chapter 1

When General Hammond envisioned a vacation, at the insistence of both the military and his family, he had pictured something more tropical and warm, not damp, cool, and full of old Gothic buildings with double-decker buses trundling down the streets and Big Ben in the skyline.

Still, his wife had wanted to visit a cousin in London that she had once been close to, and being a husband who valued a peaceful marriage, had agreed to the trip.

Not that he was bored, he still found plenty to do, visiting old war museums, watching a horse race or two, and taking in an RAF air show. The highlight of his trip though would turn out to not be the sights, but instead it was a dim afternoon threatening rain while standing on a dock where he met the boy. Who would unknowingly impact George Hammond's life much later, but right now in this moment it would be the old warhorse who affected said boy.

Hammond had always enjoyed the sight and sound of waves, which is what drew him to the docks in the first place and had him sitting on the nearly deserted walkway on a bench looking out at the heaving waves below.

There wasn't anything that was obvious about the boy that stood brooding a few feet away from Hammond's spot that made him stand out, but after a while he noticed that the boy hadn't moved from his position leaning against the metal railing at the very edge of the boardwalk looking down with a contemplative air. He had a rather serious look for one so young, and was dressed surprisingly severely in a large black duster, black slacks and black turtleneck sweater, which went well with his black messy hair, but made his pale skin look almost chalk white and washed out.

As if sensing his gaze, the boy mused out loud, not removing his eyes from the water.

"Waves are sort of like people aren't they?" he said with idle gloominess, apparently uncaring if he was addressing a total stranger.

Rather intrigued by the odd words George replied, "depends on what you mean son, there are a lot of ways one can use the sea to describe a person."

The boy hummed in agreement, gaze still below as he explained:

"Waves, like people, spend their entire existence rising in and falling under the pull of some irresistible force whether it is destiny, coercion, or the moon. In the case of people they rise, filled with ambitions overflowing their minds, swelling with dreams and then falling as they are unable to go any higher then what they wished to, scattered dreams in the wake, only to do it all over again."

They were both silent for a time as Hammond contemplated the words. "In a way you are right," he finally replied thoughtfully, "though I think that we are just as much the moon as any outside force. After all, it is peoples hope that draws them to rise again and again, even if they do fail and fall. Otherwise we, like the ocean, would be flat and lifeless without movement either way."

The boy finally turned and glanced at Hammond, his startling green eyes filled with something that Hammond would later recognize as weariness, as if he were a rather tired old man.

"I take it that you don't believe in destiny?" the boy asked wryly.

"You could say that I suppose. While there are things that we may not escape from, for the most part I believe that we make our own choices in the end," George answered.

The boy nodded, his face contemplative.

The two were like that in companionable silence, just enjoying the view before Hammond was distracted by the insistent ring of the cellphone that both the military and his wife insisted he carry around. Bothersome thing always made his pants cockeyed.

When he was done confirming with his wife about meeting her at a rather quaint bistro downtown, he hung up and pocketed the phone, though when he paid attention to his surroundings again, he realized that the boy was gone.

Ooo ooo ooo

Harry James Potter was a boy that many would say had a great destiny.

He is the supposedly destined Savior of the Wizarding World, foretold by prophesy, marked by his enemy as his equal and apparently the only one with the power to defeat Voldemort, the most powerful and semi-immortal, wizard alive. Sure he had perhaps defeated the man not once, but many times. It was a tableau of meet fight, retreat, until eventually one of them would eventually kill the other permanently.

This was believed from the moment he was born when Voldemort decided that he was likely the better choice than Neville Longbottom.

The Dursleys meanwhile, his last remaining relatives though far from what Harry considered family, believed that he was destined to do freakish things like his parents and bring ruin upon their lives should anyone find out about the shame of having someone "not normal" in their house. They believed that he would grow up to be a good for nothing that would at best be blown up, just like his freakish parents.

These were the driving forces that sought to mold him from the moment he was born.

Harry, the subject of these expected destinies did not believe he was destined for either.

Reeling after the loss of a man who wasn't even much of a parental figure but was the closest thing he had to family, had of course been told of said prophesy while the loss was still fresh.

Harry didn't believe it, at least now anyway.

Oh he was shocked by it at first, belived it for a moment since there was a strongly angry part that seethed at Voldemort, whose actions had cost him a great deal, and whose trickery had lead to the events that brought about his godfather's death. But when he returned to the Dursley's and his anger had a chance to cool somewhat, he came to a realization which elicited a fresh tidal wave of outrage when he really thought about what the prophecy meant, what it had cost him.

After everything he had gone through, his parents death, his childhood, the trials at school, the deaths of Sirius and Cedric, the judgmental eyes of the Wizarding World's public opinion, the torture, the pain, the loss and the sadness, the hunger, the confinement, the crushed dreams, it was all because of some vaguely worded poem that, if Harry was understanding this right, might have been moot had it not been for those in power in the war acting on it in desperation or paranoia starting it all in motion.

Did he have a right to be irked? Hell yes he did!

The more he thought about it, the more he stewed in the unfairness of it all, and eventually he thought he would go barmy with everythign clamouring in his head and had just not been able to take it any more, so he had left the Dursley's, hopped a bus to London, bought himself a nice set of cloths -hang the Dursleys!- and wandered around the city for the day. Which is where he had met the large bald man at the docks. His little chat with this total stranger had helped to settle his mind and he had come to realize that he was frankly, he was quite sick and tired of having everyone else dictate his destiny to him, why couldn't he be his own irresistible force in life?

So with that thought in mind, he had left the dreary boardwalk and walked. He walked for a long time to Charring Cross road where the Leaky Cauldron stood.

In that time he pondered on his situation. He may have been accused by both Hermione and Snape for not thinking from time to time and rushing into situations, mainly because of his 'saving people thing,' but before he had been introduced to the Wizarding World, he had needed to think things through quite a lot to ensure his survival at the Dursley's; he was rather ashamed of his own navite' of the hopeless belief that the Wizarding World was somehow better then where he had come from.

The hat had wanted to put him into Slytherin for a reason after all, he had just been so desperate to make himself into something that everyone else expected that he had allowed House prejudices to influence him...though he would stand by his assumption that Draco Malfoy was indeed a git.

So he did the only thing that any sane person in his situation would do, He schemed, and slowly an idea formed and took root. By the time that he had reached the Leaky Cauldron sometime later with sore feet and tired gasps of breath, he took only time to toss back a pint of butter beer in a dark corner, gathering himself, before he made his way to Diagon Alley.

Harry wasn't completely foolish; he had made a quick trip into a small hat store and picked up what looked like a plain black lighthouse keepers cap which he tugged down over his messy hair and distinctive scar, pulling up the collar of his coat to hide his face as he made a beeline for Gringotts.

The lines were blessedly short this time of day and this early in the summer, so when he made his curt request to the goblin behind the counter, he was eventually lead into a small vacant office where another sneering goblin awaited him.

Harry first made the goblin swear an oath of secrecy on his magic, and then outlined his plan. When he was done, the goblin was no longer sneering but looked intrigued. He agreed to begin implementing the procedures necessary for his plan to succeed and was told to come back in two hours.

Harry took the time to also remove a bit of money, and went off to do a bit more shopping. After all, he was going to need a few things; he might as well start now.

When he returned, a new carryall slung over his shoulder with a few more new cloths and some food, he found the same goblin in the same room he had left and took a seat. It wasn't long until another guest slinked in, heavily hooded in a dark wispy cloak, shadows, and bore an overwhelming sinister air that only a handful of wizards, including Harry could remain in the same room with and not tremble.

When the door closed behind the newcomer and the privacy wards went up, Harry greeted the man neutrally, mentally patting himself on the back for not letting any of his loathing to show.

"Voldemort."

The hood fell back revealing the familiar bald and pale snake-like countenance, his blood red eyes gleaming with anger.

"Potter!" he hissed, "what is the meaning of this? Why are you here? Are you the one behind the summons?" he pulled out a scroll with the Gringotts seal with one hand and with his other he pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry, the tip glowing green.

The Goblin cleared his throat pointedly.

Voldemort sneered at the veiled reminder to remember that he was in Gringotts and that this was neutral territory and that wand battles were not allowed unless sanctioned by Gringotts. He was not a fool, breaking the law would bring the entire Goblin Nation down on his head, and they were too important to Wizarding economy for even Voldemort to risk angering them. He wasn't quite that crazy.

Finally after standing there impotently, the Dark Lord sneered and took a seat. He had to admit, he was somewhat curious as to why the boy and himself were sitting in this room.

What followed surprised Voldemort greatly, which wasn't a mean feet by any measure.

When the goblin and the brat had finished speaking, the dark lord sat in silence as he digested everything said and the consequences if he should agree to all this.

"You are offering, to step out of the war," Voldemort clarified slowly, "you will not interfere in anyway and in return I will provide any means that are necessary to help you stay gone, should it be needed, and what about the prophesy?"

Harry huffed and explained his thoughts on the matter; he even shared the rest of it, no strings attached.

Voldemort had to admit that the boy did have a point that, perhaps, neither of them would have been where they are now if Voldemort had chosen to not act on it, and the fact that the seer in question was off her rocker drunk and a proven fraud, was also rather galling. The goblin even pointed out that the prophesy only stated that Harry had the possible power to defeat Voldemort, but that that defeat does not mean that he was actually going to kill him or had to act upon it anyway.

Then the Goblin purposed something that startled both wizards, have Harry Potter declared a Lord of magic in his own right, that way he was of equal status to both Voldemort and Dumbledore, thus outside both their jurisdictions as authority or allegiance. He suggested the title of Grey Lord, since Dark and Light Lords were already reigning, and the cherry on top of this suggestion for Voldemort was that in the off chance that the prophecy was real, it may satisfy the conditions in part by making him an equal in status.

Harry for his part had plans though, plans that didn't involve the Wizarding World, but when he brought it up to the goblin, he was reassured that he could maintain his lordship status without having to get involved in the Wizarding World at all, that was the beauty of being a Lord, particularly of a neutral party.

Harry frowned. He was just a teenager after all, how was he expected to be on par with figures like Voldemort and Dumbledore of all beings?

Voldemort for his part was highly amused by the notion of Harry Potter, figurehead for the Light, becoming the symbol of neutrality in the Wizarding World and what a delightful blow to the old coot! Oh, and getting the boy out of his non-existent hair of course, thus he agreed to the goblin's idea, "I agree, we have a bargain," He purred, thoughts still on a devastated Dumbledore, and a morally crushed wizarding world when they realized their little hero wasn't going to be there to save them this time.

'Mmmm…Delicious.'

And so the pact was struck, the oaths were given, and planning went well into the wee hours of the next morning and for days afterwards.

When they were alone, Voldemort sweeping away to prepare a few things that they felt would be necessary to making Harry at least somewhat worthy of being declared a lord, the goblin pulled out a rather heavy file and the long tedious process of making Harry a free man began.

Ooo ooo ooo

A/N: Review and let me know what you think!