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Soldier

by

LilaKatze

,.,.,.,

1900 hours, April 22, 1992 (Military Calendar)/Sol System, Hogwarts grounds, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth

Harry inhaled the pure, clean scent of Hagrid's garden, and frowned at the tinge of smoke. He inspected Hagrid's house and noted the smoke rising from the chimney and tightly shut curtains. He hadn't noticed it before; he had been meeting Hagrid at another part of the forest boundary for nearly three weeks, and he hadn't stopped to look at the hut on his morning exercises.

He knocked on the firm, wooden door and listened to Hagrid's booming footsteps approach. The large man stuck his scraggly head out the door, looked around, and then hastily motioned Harry to enter, quickly closing the door behind him. The inside of the room was stifling, and Harry could see that Hagrid's forhead and beard were soaked in sweat. Harry keep his hand near his weapons; although he doubted Hagrid would harm him, he knew that he had different standards of what consisted of "dangerous".

"Now, Mr. Potter, I haven' been rightly honest with yeh lately, 'bout why we had to meet o'er on the far side of the Whompin' Willow, but yeh've got a right good heart in yeh, I know. So I'll let yeh in on a secret o' mine."

Absolutely beaming, Hagrid uncovered his prize: a large, unmistakably wobbling, and gleaming dragon egg.

"Hagrid," Harry started to say, and then shook his head. "How are you going to keep it?"

Hagrid's face became puzzled, as if this question had never occurred to him. "Wha' d'yeh mean, Mr. Potter?"

"It's going to grow, fast," Harry pointed out. "And start breathing fire. Your house is made of wood."

"I'll teach it ter flame outside," Hagrid said.

"Where? The forest? You know the balance in the forest is fragile, Hagrid. What's a dragon going to do to it? What will it eat? And keeping dragons has to be illegal…"

Hagrid looked at the ground and shuffled his feet, a strange gesture from such a large and intimidating being. "Well, I jus' figured I'd figure it out as I wen' along, yeh know, play it by ear."

"Where'd you even get a dragon egg? Aren't they illegal to trade, too?"

"I won it," Hagrid said proudly, his beam back. "A bloke in th' pub played me a game o' cards. A real animal lover, he was. Kept askin' me 'bout my own pets. Told 'im about Fluffy, a right fine Cerberus o' mine. 'How d'yeh keep 'im tame?' he asked me, and 'course I told 'im, Fluffy en't nothing but a sleepy pup when yeh play a little music. Falls righ' ter sleep." A look of serious contemplation crossed Hagrid's face. "I shouldn' a told 'im tha'," he said, concerned.

"Why not?" Harry asked, sensing intrigue.

"That's none of yer business, I'm afraid, Mr. Potter. 'Fraid tha's between Professor Dumbledore 'n' Nicolas Flamel, best not ter—" Hagrid stopped. "Spread the word. I shouldn' a told yeh that."

"I'll keep the secret, " Harry promised immediately, hoping for another tidbit. Hagrid only beamed at him once again.

"See, yer a good lad, I knew it. An' I'm sure there's no need ter worry," he said, muttering to himself. "The stone's got loads o' protection. An' that bloke couldn't o' been too bad, seeing as 'e likes dragons an' all." Hagrid shook himself from his reverie and sighed. "Yer right, Mr. Potter," he said more loudly. "I ain't fit ter give the wee thing a home. I jus' wish…" He sighed. "I jus' always wanted ter have a dragon, yeh know? A right fine dream o' mine."

"Aren't there any dragon sanctuaries? Maybe one of them could take him in."

A look of surprise crossed Hagrid's features.

"Sanctuaries? Well, why dinna I think o' tha'?" Hagrid beamed at Harry. Then his face fell. "Course, I'll sure miss the poor wee thing."

"I'm sure they will let you visit," Harry reassured Hagrid, relieved that his guess had been correct. He was worried that dragons were hunted, not protected, given all the dragon hide wares he had seen.

"Yeh think so?" Hagrid asked with hope. Harry nodded.

"How about you research dragon facilities, find one that you think will suit the dragon, and send them an owl?"

Hagrid nodded and thought. He gnawed his large lower lip, a worried expression slowly forming. "Won' they want ter know where I got 'im?"

Harry quickly thought of a simple lie. "The man at the pub – say he wouldn't take no for an answer. He gave you the egg and went his way. That makes you look good, since you're saving the, um, poor wee thing, from who-knows-what."

Hagrid's face was once again all sunshine. "Good thinkin', Harry!" He clapped the boy on the shoulder, a blow which would have knocked over any other boy his age – any other one which hadn't been battered every which way to gain balance. Harry endured it, knowing it was well-meant. He didn't even correct Hagrid about his name.

Hagrid gazed at the egg, his eyes soft and moist. Then he covered it up once again, cleared his throat, and appeared to force a smile.

"Well, I guess you better be off, Mr. Potter. There's no tasks fer me ter give yeh today. I know it seems there's loads o' time 'fore exams, bu' if there's one thing I ever learned, it's tha' revisin' is best not left t' the end!"

"You went to Hogwarts?" Harry asked, slightly surprised and feeling ashamed that he was. He had assumed Hagrid was not formally educated.

"Course! Well, fer a few years," Hagrid said, trailing off at the end and avoiding Harry's gaze. It seemed it was a delicate matter. Harry awkwardly patted Hagrid on the arm.

"Good luck finding a sanctuary, Hagrid," Harry said as he turned to open the door. He could feel the breeze from outside as a breath of refreshing coolness.

"Thanks, Mr. Potter," Hagrid said, his smile a little less forced. Harry trudged through the April mud back to the castle once again.

2052 hours

Harry quickly and quietly disillusioned The Twins – what he referred to "Gred and Forge" as in his head – and ducked into a secret passage, sprinting across to a different part of the castle while simultaneously casting the spell at himself. He slipped out near the door to the third floor corridor almost too fast for his own good – he would have crashed straight into a shifty looking Quirrell if he had kept running.

Quirrell was muttering to himself, pacing in front of the door and seemingly trying to stare straight through the floor. The muttering was so soft, Harry couldn't hear precisely what he was saying, although it seemed to be well-enunciated and possibly in Latin. Harry raised an eyebrow. This was a far cry from the incompetent and stuttering wreck Harry was used to.

Harry would have stayed and watched more, but he had a task and stopping had already put him behind schedule. He quietly slipped past Quirrell, who, for a long second looked up, and then resumed his probable spell-casting.

Harry continued his sprint until he reached the top of the Grand Staircase, then, watching carefully for anyone still up – it was exactly one minute until curfew – flashed his wand like a strobe light and then raced to the Ravenclaw common room.

He made it, barely, and removed the disillusionment charm. He quickly answered the riddle and then casually walked in, avoiding the notice of most. He made his way to his dorm and sat on his bed. Whatever The Twins had done, it had better be magnificent, he thought to himself. He had missed an opportunity to study with Hermione, and make she wasn't working herself half to death.

Resolving to make it up to her later, Harry took out a little project he had been working on. It was a prototype of something he hoped would eventually be useful to his fellow Spartans: a smooth stone enchanted to throw out a spell when certain conditions are met. Unfortunately, he was having a hard time even enchanting it to float, supposedly one of the easiest enchantments there was. He thought of the staircases and the sky-ceiling in the Great Hall and resolved to keep trying. He was only a first year, but his resolve and firm belief in himself made him a strong spell caster, and his attention to detail and meticulous precision made the spell names and wand movements no obstacle. However, he knew that enchantments were notorious for being a trickier branch of magic than what Snape would call "foolish wand-waving". They required steady and very well controlled manipulation of magic into runic forms, and then containment of that magic, in its form, into the intended vessel. Some very strong individuals, with much practice, could even enchant purely using force of will. In a way, it was similar to wish magic, and so Harry thought that perhaps he would have a natural flare. If he did, it wasn't very forthcoming. He picked up the introductory book he had found in the library, titled, Enchanting for Emerging Enchanters. He reread the passage on the basic technique.

Enchanting requires patience and concentration. The Enchanter must be able to feel his own magic, first as a force within, and then as a thrum in the air, forever present and ever present, but often faint, except for in areas where magic has been used in great concentration. To describe it is as difficult as describing any sensation to one who is unfamiliar with it – for how could one describe the feeling of a cool mountain breeze to a Goblin child raised for decades underground? Or the feeling of true starvation to a man who has never once went a day without meal? Or the pleasure of lovemaking to a virgin pure enough to stroke the horn of a Unicorn? But I digress.

Obviously, Harry thought. Virgins and starving men, hopefully, had nothing to do with enchanting.

For some, it is nearly a tickling, or itching of the mind, nearly imperceptible at first, but then gradually becoming more noticeable. For others, a buzz or vibration in the air or within themselves. Yet others describe it as water- or air-like, and flowing, and others call it a warmth that permeates and glows.

It is best to find a quiet spot, away from sources of magic and magical interference, in order to sense the power that is within oneself. Clear the mind of thoughts and focus on finding the force that powers your feats of magic. Cast a spell, and search for it passing through your arm, into the focus that is the wand, and into the world.

This is the first task of the Emerging Enchanter.

Harry closed the book in disgust. He had hoped he was wrong, but this time he was sure that by "magical interference" the author meant the background magic found in places where magic was cast in large amounts. Given he was in bloody Hogwarts, it was unlikely he was going to find any place on the grounds that would have low background magic. Even the forest teamed with magic – it had to, or it wouldn't be so full of magical creatures.

He hoped that when he returned home for summer break, he would be able to a place and some time to figure out this "feeling magic" thing. He hadn't realized until one of his first disillusioned cloaks had faded back into visibility sometime during Easter break (which he had spent at Hogwarts, as the week was hardly enough time to go back for any significant training) that spells weren't usually meant for long-lasting effects. It took enchantments to pull off more than a permanent sticking charm, and even spells such as that took runic wand movements and a surprising amount of force. He supposed there was likely a continuum from spell to enchantment, but he had a feeling some of it was classified as dark…and although he was sure he would learn what he could about the Dark Arts when he got a chance, he wasn't planning on practicing any until he learned exactly what made something dark, and if there were any lasting consequences.

Harry put the book away and got under his bedcovers, closing the curtains of the four poster bed. He quickly fell asleep.

,.,.,.,

0600 hours, April 9, 2518 (Military Calendar) /Epsilon Eridani System, Spartan Training Ground, Reach Military Complex, planet Reach.

It was cold, dark, and nearly rainy, but the excitement among the Spartan trainees was strong and visible in their bright eyes. The day was Easter, a near-meaningless word at that point except for neo-Christians and scholars, but still the word used to designate the holiday celebrated by billions across UNSC-controlled space. The colored eggs were a near-ubiquitous tradition, and the Spartans had their own take. Color-coded eggs, most somewhat dangerous, some mildly irritating, others, worth fighting for. Red eggs? Mildly explosive if jostled. Metal eggs? Likely to be a pressurized canister of sedating gas, and touch-sensitive. Blue eggs? Filled with manufactured skunk-stink, and very fragile. On the color-coding went, including seven golden eggs with pure chocolate goodness inside. The seven with the golden eggs got a special trip to Manassas, the largest civilian city on Reach.

Almost as soon as Mendez blew his whistle, there was a crack and a hiss of gas as someone stepped on a camouflaged egg. Harry held his breath and ran in the other direction, into the wind, which would hopefully keep the gas from blowing towards him. From what little he smelled, it was a mace bomb, filled with spicy capsaicin suspended in pressurized gas. He really had avoided the brunt of it; it tickled his nose, but not much else. He could hear violent coughing and sneezing in the direction he ran from, but he didn't stop to look back, only to look down and around to make sure he didn't set off any eggs himself.

Once he had reached what he deemed a safe distance from the others, he disappeared into a tree. He was small, he knew, even after all the eating and exercise. This helped him hide. Hiding was second nature – nothing was better at the Dursleys than making himself scarce enough that he couldn't be hurt or punished.

It had been more than seven months since he had last seen the Dursleys. It seemed like years. His past life felt like nothing more than a dream, and this – this branch against his face, this tickle in his nose, and this inhospitable planet – it was reality, sharp and distinct as every thought that marched in his head as orderly as standing to attention. He knew the others felt that way too, even though none of them talked about their homes. Not yet, maybe not ever, since there was so much to do and every moment had to be alert and –

There. A flash of metal in a crotch of a tree only meters away. He knew what it was: the sedative egg. If he was careful, and stayed upwind, he could use it to make someone with a golden egg fall asleep. He knew that Mendez had been going easy on them by telling them what the eggs were beforehand. He bet that the next year, they wouldn't be so lucky.

It was touch-sensitive, which meant heat-sensing, motion-sensing, or both. The motion-sensors were probably not too sensitive, but if it was heat-sensing, a touch of a fingertip could set it off. He took off his shirt and waited for it to cool, trying not to shiver. Checking in every direction for other trainees, he approached the egg, set the shirt in front of it, and slowly, carefully, used a stick to move the egg onto his shirt. He grabbed the ends of the shirt and cautiously lifted it. It remained sealed.

Slowly, he crept towards the din in the distance. He passed by two other eggs: a purple one that was more like a water balloon, and filled with a liquid that would temporary blind a person, and a yellow one, bright and obviously placed, which was filled with loud bells. He picked up the purple but avoided the yellow.

A flash of gold, and a crash through the trees in front of him. He followed the scuffling pair from a good distance, and waited for them to pick a spot to fight in. He crept closer, then threw the metal egg with fairly good accuracy at one of the fighting pair. The metal capsule burst open, but was nearly soundless as it let out its contents. Harry ran upwind again, but stayed close to defend his prize.

A twig snapped and Harry looked towards it, but there was nothing there. Suddenly, there was an arm around his neck. Before he could be choked, he grabbed the purple egg from his pocket and smashed it into his aggressor's face. He slipped from the hold as whoever it was instinctively reached for their eyes.

It was Kelly. Of course she would be fast enough to snap a twig and run around behind him. She flailed and was panicking, by the look of it, but Harry knew he didn't have much time. The sky was getting brighter by the second, and Mendez didn't like to give them the advantage of good lighting. Harry ran to where he left the two fighting boys, Vinh and Malcolm, apparently. He quickly searched them, but their suspicious lack of eggs meant one thing – someone had stolen his loot.

He frowned and even stomped a foot, but as he heard the whistle signaling the end of the exercise, he thought of Kelly. He ran back to get her.

She was sitting on the ground, silently weeping as she rubbed her eyes again and again. Harry breathed loudly enough for her to hear him, and she turned toward the sound.

"I'm sorry," he said, and took her hands away from her face. He helped her up and she tried to hide her face from him.

"'S okay," she said, a bit stuffed up from crying. She cleared her throat. "I just don't like…I mean…If I can't see, I can't run." She said this with such desperation that Harry felt even guiltier for leaving her behind.

Harry didn't say anything, but he guided her towards Mendez and the others. They were almost the last ones to arrive, but the purple liquid was surprisingly long lasting. It didn't look like anyone else got hit so directly in the eyes. Vinh and Malcolm trailed behind them a half-mile, and several minutes after they arrived, John stumbled out of the trees, little scorch marks on his clothes and stinking, with a visible bump on his head and a dazed look in his eyes. He had no golden egg either.

,.,.,.,

0400 Hours, April 23, 1992 (Military Calendar) /Ravenclaw dormitories, Hogwarts Castle, Wizard space, planet Earth

Harry woke slowly, finding it hard initially to distinguish dream from reality. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he fought back feelings of longing. He wondered what the eggs had been like this year, or if there had been any at all. As time passed, Mendez had been cutting out the more "childish" aspects of the program and replacing them with practical, realistic scenarios.

He smiled a bit, and wondered if everyone had ganged up on John, again. Most likely they had, since in any individual exercise, there were a group who seemed to make it their goal to make John's odds the worst. It was partially revenge and partially a challenge that they knew would serve to make their squad leader better.

It had turned out to be lucky that John, Kelly, and he did not get any golden eggs. Manassas was struck by a terrorist bomber that very afternoon, killing over two million civilians and severely damaging many more. The entire planet had been swarmed by decontamination units, sent to prevent the spread of radiation and remove what they could, but even four years later, he knew that Manassas was still recovering. The "lucky" seven who had been sent to the city for their reward returned on stretchers and were hospitalized for an entire month, luckily far enough away from ground zero of the blast to make a full recovery. Yearly, the Spartan trainees were all sent to assist in some way in the reconstruction effort.

Reach was their home. The terrorist – an Insurrectionist – had violated and killed its citizens and made a mockery of its heavy fortification. For Harry as for the other Spartans, it brought home what they were fighting for. They knew, of course, that the UNSC was hardly innocent. They had studied every major conflict that the UNSC had with the Insurrectionists, privy to information that was censored from the press, and knew that almost every Insurrectionist base was home to the families of the rebel commanders and fighters. ONI was ruthless, and soldiers obeyed orders.

But the Spartans existed to end the large scale destruction, to target with specificity and fight as honorably as possible. If they succeeded, millions, even billions of non-combatant lives would be saved. Harry felt himself become filled with purpose as he remembered the torn apart streets he helped to reconstruct, and the terror that filled the people of Manassas when they realized that even in the heart of UNSC territory, they weren't safe.

When Hermione joined him in the common room, she noticed the hard look in his eyes and his especially rigid stance. Without a word, they went down to the grounds together.

As Hermione started her comparatively light exercises, she watched Harry and wondered about his life in the future. What Harry had told her so far was incredible, frightening and exhilarating. The Spartan program itself, and the dubious morality of it, made her feel uncomfortable and amazed at the same time. She spent an embarrassing amount of time in the last few months thinking about it, wondering if she were in Dr. Halsey's position, she would do the same. Imagining the future had become a pastime, an obsession almost, which she could only put aside to study magic and to train with Harry.

Magic, which was here and now, real and amazing, made her just as uncomfortable as the Spartan program. She read about the Statute of Secrecy and what methods were designed to truly implement it: Obliviation, culling of magical creatures when they overpopulated muggle areas, the disturbing revelation that a muggleborn's parents had absolutely no rights in regards to their children. Muggleborns were considered under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic, and were considered minors until they reached 17, but had no official guardian. This was supposedly to make it so that a muggleborn's parents could not keep a muggleborn from being schooled magically, but Hermione saw this as a way to make muggleborns effectively powerless, since there was no one to speak for them, and no one was notified if they were injured or even if they disappeared or were killed.

She wouldn't have found this tidbit out if Harry's explanation about how the majority of the Spartan trainees had been taken as children didn't spark her interest in the magical world's laws on children and their welfare. There were nearly none that protected children, and those that did exist appeared to cover line theft and kidnapping more than anything. Most of the laws covered what children weren't allowed to do, mainly magic. As she searched for reasons that magical children weren't better protected, she discovered a great deal of wording which implied that children didn't need protection – that a child's magic would save a child in true danger. Bodily injuries were treated with a nonchalance that suggested that the Wizarding world was very used to being able to heal a broken bone or concussion within a day, or even within minutes. Spell damage was taken more seriously, but the laws covering spell injuries and attacks applied to the magical population as a whole, with anecdotes of children as well as adults being sent to Azkaban for their offenses. Almost nothing was stated to protect muggles or beings such as centaurs and mermaids, except when it risked the secrecy of magic. She suspected that a curse that caused a muggle accident which in no way appeared connected to magic would be perfectly legal.

As she ran around the lake while Harry did whatever he did through the forest, which she refused to set foot in (it was Forbidden for a reason!), she mused that if the Wizarding world could create temporary clones of muggleborns and then replace and kidnap them, it probably would. In fact, she imagined that it was most likely possible with magic, but, she thought with a shudder, also probably dark magic. The extremely harsh laws against dark magic were likely what saved her from that fate.

Thighs burning, she shed her outer robe and her loose muggle exercise clothing to reveal a very modest muggle bathing suit, and waded out into the lake. It was freezing cold, and for a moment she stood still to acclimatize, the water up to her waist. The view was breathtaking, as dawn was finally just beginning to crack and the water shimmered, reflecting the trees along parts of the shore. In the distance, she could see a lazy tentacle from the Giant Squid idly making ripples at the surface of the water. The sky was pink, purple, and soft. She smiled, then gritted her teeth and continued into the lake. As soon as she was up to her shoulders, she began to swim parallel to the shore, keeping in the shallow areas because she had read that the deeper portions of the lake teemed with dangerous magical creatures. She heard a very muted splash in the distance and knew that Harry had dove into the lake, likely leaping from a tree branch in a way that, had she watched, would have likely made her palms sweat in sympathetic fear.

But Harry was fearless, or at least seemed that way, and so strong and swift that sometimes she couldn't help staring in amazement. She knew she was feeling a bit of a crush, but she ruthlessly buried those feelings, knowing, though he had never told her, that there was no way he could ever have a relationship with her, even if he felt the same way back. And he didn't, she felt intuitively. He was too focused on his task, though he was kind to her and seemed to feel the need to protect her. A few times she had allowed herself to daydream that he would fall in love with her, and decide to stay in his true time to defeat Voldemort and reform the Ministry.

But she knew his home was 10.5 light years away and centuries in the future, and no amount of daydreaming would change that.

0830 hours, Great Hall

A loud trumpet interrupted Hogwarts' breakfast as twelve lions, a number of tigers, several dozen monkeys, and an enormous elephant burst into the Great Hall, scattering in all directions and generally causing havoc. Parrots, eagles, butterflies, and miniature dragons flew in all directions, squawking, diving, fluttering, and flaming, respectively. The students jumped and scattered in fright, but it soon became apparent that these animals, though lifelike and opaque, were nothing more than illusions, passing through tables and people as easily as ghosts.

Harry looked on in amazement, then looked up as he heard twin footsteps approach him.

"Pretty cool, huh?"

"Zonko's made a deal with us – "

" – or rather, we made a deal with them – "

"to test out their newest product – "

"Menagerie Mirages!"

"Looks like they still need a little work – "

" – but they've got a neat idea here."

Harry grinned at The Twins and watched the chaos as Hogwarts students chased and laughed at the antics of the intangible animals. Magnificent, indeed.

1830 hours, Hogwarts Library

"And you're sure Professor Sinistra said that Eridanus is in the shape of a river?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "You heard her as well."

Hermione flushed. "I just wanted to make sure." She made the note on her star chart.

"Eridanus has twenty-four stars, the brightest of which is Archernar and the closest of which is ε Eridanus, an orange star with several planets and two asteroid belts. Many have been made habitable, including Beta Gabriel, a place for rich assholes to play golf, Circumstance, known for its universities and centers of justice, and of course, Reach, a planet made tolerable for human life through rudimentary terraforming. Cold, windy, and dry is the usual weather, and compared to Earth, the days are dim, and the nights are dark. Sometimes you can see clouds of color and light from a nearby nebula, but usually you can just see stars, satellites and ships, and faint lines from the space elevators. Little groups of New Hungarians live in self-sustaining clusters around the planet, and there are a few large cities of several million each. Much of the land is either farmland or military compound, with civilian districts scattered about." Harry smiled in a gently mocking way at Hermione. "And if you wanted to know more about the planet I call home, you could have just asked."

Hermione blushed and said, "Sorry. I didn't really know how to broach the subject."

Harry shrugged. "I'd rather you just be blunt and ask outright. You know that." He looked around the library to make sure no one was close by, and then took his datapad out of his bag. He turned it on, and with a couple quick swipes, looked up Reach on his encyclopedia, then handed the datapad to her. She gasped and eagerly began paging through the encyclopedia entry. She had watched while he read through his lessons before, but had never asked to see the datapad for herself, and he had never let her hold it.

"Go ahead and look up what you want," he said as he finished his Astronomy assignment. He could see her bushy hair quivering with excitement out of the corner of his eye as she read. They sat in silence for a quarter hour, and Harry got started on his transfiguration homework. He read through the required passages.

…And though metals can be transfigured into cheaper metals with relative ease, the reverse is not true, and is never as lasting. Copper may be transfigured into tin for a number of hours, and then returned to its original form, but tin transfigured into copper will revert back to tin within a few short minutes. Copper transfigured to gold will remain so for mere seconds before reverting.

A short list of metals below is ordered from least valuable to most valuable.

Aluminium, Iron, Nickle, Tin, Lead, Copper, Silver, Gold.

Harry frowned and looked at that list for a while before shaking his head and wondering what that made him think of. It had something to do with chemistry – the metal activity series! He wondered if there was a connection, and then continued reading.

The only known exceptions to this rule are Leprechaun gold and the gold created from any metal using the legendary Philosopher's Stone. Leprechaun gold is true gold for as long as it lasts, which is usually less than four hours. After that time, it fades and disappears into nonentity. How Leprechauns conjure gold is unknown. The mechanism by which the Philosopher's Stone, a powerful artifact famously created by the Master Alchemist Nicolas Flamel, turns metals into gold is also unknown, except perhaps by Flamel himself, though as of yet he has not revealed it to anyone.

Harry felt an epiphany coming on. Nicolas Flamel, Nicolas Flamel, the stone –

Yesterday, Hagrid, and his strange slip ups. Tha's between Professor Dumbledore 'n' Nicolas Flamel…The stone's got loads o' protection… Dumbledore's warning at the beginning of the year. Quirrell's strange pacing in front of the third floor corridor. The troll and Quirrell's faked faint.

The Philosopher's Stone was being secretly hidden in the school, under various protections including an effectively useless Cerberus, and someone – most likely Quirrell – was attempting to take it.

Well, he thought, now what?

A/N: Hehe, it was pointed out to me by dazzlar1 that I had made a mistake have Harry open the Gryffindor entrance for Fred and George and then go to his common room, since I had placed Harry in Ravenclaw. Awesome catch, so thank you, and I've now hopefully made that correct.

I'm sorry for not updating for so long, but life happens. I can't guarantee a swift update, or any update, but if I get to the point where I'm sure that I won't continue the story, I will at least update my summary to reflect that and offer up the story for adoption. I'm having some inspiration right now, so I'll hopefully be able to write more.

The research that goes into writing this is pretty fun, if sometimes more extensive than I'd like. The bombing of Manassas is a Halo-cannon event, and I've been following Harry Potter and Halo timelines as well as I can. I do wish I had some of the newer Halo books…sigh…Halo Nation wiki will have to suffice.

Also, as of writing this, no less than 415 visitors have viewed this chapter. Thank you to all of you. It would mean a lot if more of you left a little token of your appreciation…like a review! Thanks to those who have reviewed so far, for any of the chapters, and those of you who have PM'd me with questions, comments, and encouragements. I won't be answering questions, though, since I'm not 100% sure how the plot will unravel, and I would hate to contradict myself.

3 LilaKatze