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Emotions are complex things, and no one knew this better than six-year-old Harry Potter- for you see, little Harry was special.

Not in a freaky way- no matter what his family told him- nor in a strictly magical way- as the wizarding world would tell him- but in a deeply intuitive way that only an Empath could appreciate.

To better understand little Harry and his highly unique gift one must first understand that Harry was born to a family who could wield magic- an internal supernatural energy that could be harnessed and purposefully manipulated by only a select few people in the world. Their numbers account for less than one percent of the world's total population, in fact. Due to their low numbers and a historical precedent of persecution the magic-wielders of the world had withdrawn entirely from their nonmagical brethren nearly six centuries prior to little Harry's birth.

Of course, darkness, greed, and bloodshed were universal, and in fact little Harry's parents had opposed a rapidly-rising Dark Lord named Voldemort. Their resistance to the madman ended up costing their lives- as the friend that they had entrusted their Secret to had secretly joined the madman and consequently betrayed them.

Their former Headmaster and the leader of the vigilante group who opposed the Dark Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters- the Order of the Phoenix- had not been privy to their last minute switch from their friend Sirius Black to Peter Pettigrew and therefore sent the lovable- but dense and rather intimidating- Hagrid to fetch Harry from the ruins of the Potter Cottage.

The Headmaster- a venerable man who had spent more than a few years on the darker side of magic before coming back to his senses- was desperate to shelter Harry from those who would seek to bribe their way into being the small toddler's Guardian for less-than-honorable reasons. The Headmaster was also unsure of the boy's Godfather's status, as Albus had thought that Sirius was the Potter family's Secret Keeper. Therefore the Headmaster made the executive decision to erect Blood Wards around the residence of Petunia Evans-Dursley, the sister of the newly-late Lily Evans-Potter- Harry's mother- as a way to keep little Harry safe and away from those who would use him. As Chief Warlock he could seal the Potter Will and freeze the Potter assets until the boy came of age- which would keep little Harry's family's legacies far away from the greedy vultures who wished to lay claim to the boy's rightful inheritance, as it was not a trifling thing- while also keeping the matter of guardianship firmly in the Headmaster's hands as the Chief Warlock.

It was a blatant abuse of power- not to mention trust- and the Headmaster was acutely aware of the fact that Petunia Evans-Dursley loathed magic and everything- and everyone associated with it- so as an additional measure to appease Petunia the Headmaster tightly bound the young child's magic before he left Privet Drive that night, praying that little Harry would grow up to be the kind, brave boy that his parents would have wanted him to be.

Unfortunately for the Headmaster, all of his well-reasoned, desperate measures only made things worse for little Harry.

Among the magical peoples- roughly one percent of the world's population, making their numbers hover around the four-hundred-fifty-million mark- there exists an even smaller subset of those who can utilize talents that are nearly legendary even amongst the magical populations.

These are called the Disparate.

Highly coveted by the ruling parties of all the magical nations- down to even the smallest Amazonian tribes- these special few are the Elementals, the Espers, the Changelings, and the Empaths.

The thing about the Disparate is that their gifts work in tandem with their innate magic, not necessarily due to the magic itself. So when the Headmaster had sealed off little Harry's magic to appease his Aunt, the man had unintentionally triggered the boy's Empathetic gifts to manifest early on. Most Disparate start to manifest around the age of seven or so- though researchers have never been able to properly ascertain why. However, with Harry's Empathy coming to the fore at such a tender age, the small boy was unable to properly control his gifts.

Empathy- at its core- is a tactile-based gift.

Most Empaths never move past the tactile-stage, actually; though the Empath ability was formidable even in its weakest manifestation. However, the first, instinctive use of Empathy is what is colloquially referred to as 'Leaching'. What occurs is that the Empath touches a surface- be it animate or inanimate- and their Empathy instinctively reaches out and absorbs a 'sample' of the object's emotional impression or a person's emotional state. It is dangerous for the Empath, especially a young, untrained one, as the absorbed emotions are experienced in a first-person manner instead of being held separate from the Empath's own emotions and thoughts.

Harry- being a small, terrified little boy locked inside a small cupboard and barraged with emotional feedback from everything he touched- developed a habit of rubbing the scar on his forehead to try and center himself while wearing layers of clothing, despite the sweltering heat- as the cupboard was stuffy at best and stifling at worst. He suffered from terrible Panic Attacks- which entirely deserved their capital letters- and thus the Dursley family were wholly willing and able to shove him into the cupboard for as long as humanly possible without the boy actually dying.

Eventually Harry's calming habit- and consequent unconscious Leaching- resulted in the small boy absorbing the sliver-shard of the Dark Lord Voldemort's soul that had been unintentionally left behind the night the madman had attacked Harry and his parents. Fortunately for Harry- because his magic was bound and unable to properly assist him- the Blood Wards acted and the young child also absorbed the remnants of his mother's soul that had lived inside the Wards. This was fortuitous because between the two of them- the Dark Lord soul shard being that of a cold, psychotic man and his mother's being a sliver of a vibrant, vivacious woman- little Harry was able to see two distinct paths and how they played out.

So, by the time both of those soul impressions had been absorbed and properly catalogued- a natural Empathic defense that was enhanced by both soul's knowledge of the Mind Arts, meditation, and other scraps of exocentric knowledge- Harry was a rather mature, but well-balanced child for all the extra knowledge that lurked inside his head. The Blood Wards- greatly weakened, as Lily's soul had assimilated into her son and therefore was no longer sustaining them and Petunia Evans-Dursley was not actively attempting to feed them with positive feelings or actions- assisted as best they could in suppressing the truly terrible memories as part of a last ditch effort to preserve the child's innocence.

As a result of his new maturity, however, Harry gained a measure of control over his Empathy. No longer terrified of being around people that might accidentally touch him and inadvertently cause him to fly into a Panic Attack- as he learned how to 'turn off' his Leaching ability- or being instantly overwhelmed from accidentally touching an object that contained intense emotional imprints- the Panic Attacks decreased and Harry was able to exist outside of his cupboard without causing a Scene.

Just in time for the beginning of Primary School, too!

His Aunt was so relieved that his Panic Attacks had evened out that the she hadn't protested the two sets of fingerless costume gloves that Harry had taken to wearing religiously, nor did she complain about the boy's habit of wearing long sleeved shirts. Though, Harry usually rolled up the sleeve on the left side, while the right sleeve was used as a makeshift barrier between himself and whatever he was touching. Seeing as how she had gotten him decent clothes- the cheapest pound store bargain bins clothes or not- instead of saddling him with Dudley's dreaded hand-me-downs, Harry went along with the 'germaphobe' fiction that his Aunt spewed as her nervous way of explaining away his idiosyncrasies to the Primary School staff and neighbor's alike.

Upstairs someone began to move around, breaking Harry from his reverie and causing dust to float down and irritate his nose. The small boy who lay on the ratty toddler mattress wrinkled the tiny appendage in irritation before casting a look around his forlorn cupboard. The room was dusty and there were cleaning supplies on the shelves. The area was about five feet across, but nearly eight feet tall, as it existed underneath the house's staircase. Knowing that he'd soon need to help his Aunt with breakfast the boy pulled on his long-sleeved shirt, trousers, socks, and gloves.

Harry knew his Aunt hated him, but he despised it when she touched him. Even with his mother's memories to help him understand the raging conflicting maelstrom of emotions that constantly drove his Aunt and her actions, Petunia touching him gave Harry a migraine, so he tried to minimize contact with her as much as possible. So, when the harsh raps sounded against his cupboard door, Harry was already moving before his Aunt's shrill. "Up, boy, up now!" Sounded from outside.

Hopefully school will be better. Harry thought as he made his way towards the kitchen, absently dancing around the swipe his Aunt aimed at his messy-haired head.

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Well, that was bloody wicked. Harry thought sarcastically as he leaned back again the outside wall of the Primary school's playground. A month into his Primary school life and Harry was already tired of it. The work was fairly remedial, as the knowledge from his mother's and Tommy Riddle's time in school buoying him, even with him not actively reaching for the knowledge. He needed to make the information his own, of course, so it wasn't as if he was a forty year old man stuffed into a child's body, but the knowledge definitely gave him an advantage.

Granted, with the number of disadvantages and distractions his Empathy presented, his advantage pretty much just leveled the playing field. Being constantly distracted by emotional bursts from idiots touching him- seriously, how much quieter did he have to be before they would get with the program and leave him alone?- was a major distraction, after all. Not to mention the sheer amount of emotional imprints left behind on the not-so-gently recycled school materials that all but screamed at him to pay attention.

His latest aggravation was the new game 'Harry Hunting', in which Dudley- Harry's cousin- and Dudley's so-called friends would chase the smaller boy down and try their best to send him into a Panic Attack while also attempting to inflict physical harm at the same time.

Harry hated the game. The only thing that made it somewhat bearable was that children's emotions were fairly simple compared to adults, and thus were much easier to work through.

I wish I could go somewhere I could be free. Somewhere where I was wanted. Harry thought, absently rubbing at his chest as his frequent heartburn issue flared up. The boy grimaced as he felt the familiar burn of acid at the back of his throat and he nearly groaned aloud when he realized that his small packet of antacids had fallen out of his pocket at some point. It was a frequent annoyance, and the Doctors had been quite upset at the damage his constant heartburn had inflicted on his throat, so Harry always had his antacids on him, as his Aunt was desperate to keep the neighbors from having anything else to gossip about concerning the young child.

Harry sighed heavily, stuffing his hands into his pockets before ducking his head and hunching his shoulders as the sky finally broke and the rain that had been threatening the city for the past three days finally began to fall.

Perfect. He thought sourly as he dashed between the school buildings and tried to plot out a course back to Number Four that didn't involve him becoming utterly drenched. Let's do this then. He thought grimly as he bounced a little on his toes and dashed across the wet concrete walks.

Unfortunately, less than a block away from Number Four Dudley and the Stooges caught up to Harry.

The blonde haired hefty Dursley boy all but bowled over the small, dark-haired Potter child, knocking Harry's glasses off his face and causing him to hit the pavement with a wet-sounding thwack. Childishly cruel laughter filled Harry's suddenly fuzzy ears as down became up and sideways became straight. Meaty fists found purchase in his back and someone twisted a hand in his hair, but Harry was too distracted by the slippery feel off blood trickling down his face and the copper tang that had filled his mouth.

I hate it here. Harry thought fiercely as the hand in his hair twisted and wrenched- and some part of Harry idly noted that he might have a bald spot there if that kept up- and the hits on his back began to throb. Someone turned him over and all Harry could see was the blurred outlines of his tormentors, their faces cast into a grey light by the swirling clouds above them and the increasingly-worsening rain falling all around them.

I hate it here. Harry thought again, a roaring sound building in his ears as all of the torment he had endured blended and melded with the torment of Tommy Riddle and even the bullying that Lily Evans had experienced. Harry- lost in his reverie- didn't notice that his tormentors had backed up nor did he know that his eyes- already a bright, vibrant green that seemed to glow from within- began to burn brightly as the tide of magic within him struggled valiantly against the last vestiges of the child-block that had been cast on him the night he had been left on his Aunt's doorstep all those years ago.

I hate it here. He thought one last time before there was a spinning sensation that seemed to center around his bellybutton that wrenched and heaved before the world blurred out of focus.

Then there was only darkness.

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Layla Westron had lived in the rugged mountains of the Trabia region for nearly fifty years- the majority of her life, honestly. Until recently she had lived here with her husband, Kent, but after his death she had chosen to live alone in the home they had carved out of the unforgiving rocks in the most isolated area of the Bika Snowfields.

Layla's isolation from the rest of the world wasn't entirely due to her taciturn nature, however, for you see, Layla was a Sorceress.

Sorceresses were women- there hadn't been any male Sorcerers that she knew of, anyways- who were granted their powers from their predecessor, usually just before aforementioned predecessor passed on. Sorceresses were unable to exist without a Knight to help her balance the weight of her powers. A Sorceress without a Knight would eventually go mad- her rational mind consumed by the weight of the power she held within her. However, a Sorceress was also unable to die peacefully without bequeathing her powers to a new Sorceress- and that little detail was what kept Layla from joinging her beloved Kent in the Great Beyond.

Layla, for all her faults, simply couldn't bring herself to pass on her burden to some poor, unsuspecting girl- not with the state of the world and how most Sorceresses were currently feared and reviled.

Less than a decade had passed since the end of the Sorceress Adel's reign of Esthar, and the tyrannical despot had done the average Sorceress no favors in terms of being able to live a relatively unbothered existence. Layla had done her best to subtly shield young potential Sorceresses from the insane woman, but Layla's Sorceress powers lay in touching the hearts of people- in helping heal wounds of the soul- and in shielding persons or objects; those abilities not really lending to her being a front-line fighter. Layla, at her core, was also sort of a pacifist, an eternal peacemaker, and the inner conflict between want and need had lent to her unease at coming out of her mountainous home and fighting as a fully-realized Sorceress for all and sundry.

Kent had understood. He had always known her better than she knew herself.

Layla absently gathered up the useful parts of the monster she had just defeated, sniffling lightly as the ache that had been present since Kent's death shuddered and spread even as she smiled bitterly at her own failures. It was twilight and the snow was gently drifting down, a sure sign that she needed to head back home soon if she didn't want to get caught up in the upcoming storm.

I wish I had an heir. She thought bitterly as her hands efficiently moved through the practiced motions of stowing and separating. I wish Kent and I had been able to have children. I wish that somehow I could get over myself and just pass on my burden so that I could-

A sharp crack resounded through the small valley and Layla spun, her hand going towards her spear even as her sharp eyes traced the surroundings. She was far up in the mountains, the closest village at least twenty miles away, and as she had just taken out two Coackatrice- and they were territorial little beasties- so what had-

There was a muffled sound- something between a gasp and a sob- and Layla rapidly covered the ground towards the sounds of distress. She might be a peacemaker- a coward- but Layla was a caretaker at heart and there was something so primal and wounded about the noise that she instinctively wanted to help. It was only a few minutes later that Layla came across a small form, crumpled at the base of a tree and breathing raggedly.

The blonde woman sheathed her weapon and dropped her satchel near her as she slid to a stop near the small form. The woman's blue eyes went gentle at the sight of the small child even as her heartbeat picked up as her mind dutifully catalogued all the injuries present on the small form.

"Well, let's get you home and cleaned up, sweetheart." She murmured as she scooped up the barely-breathing child and her satchel before she took off in a dead sprint for her home.

Is this your doing, Kent? She wondered as she swiftly and nimbly navigated the rugged landscape; her expertly crafted leather boots finding the best footholds automatically even as she tenderly cradled the wounded child to her breast. Is this your answer to my tears? Layla's mouth tugged upwards into a sad, mournful smile even as her eyes misted over. You always did hate to see me cry, didn't you, my love?

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"Moooooom-" Harry whined dramatically up at the grinning blonde woman above him, his bum going numb from both the cold seeping through his pants and the force by which his rear-end had been unexpectedly introduced to the ground. "-that hurt!"

Layla grinned down at her son, blue eyes shining with mirth as she expertly twirled her spear between dexterous fingers, the blade's shining edge flashing brightly in the early morning sun, before resting the butt of it against the tightly packed ground. "Well, son of mine." The woman told the whining boy before her in an entirely amused tone of voice. "Perhaps you should have thought about the consequences before you ate the last bit of chocolate in the house!"

Harry pouted and wobbled to his feet, rubbing his sore backside as he did so. That tumble had hurt. "I didn't know it was the last one!" He told his mother in exasperation, his bright green eyes extra round and doe-like behind his black-rimmed, square glasses as he tried to plead his case to the chocolate-Mom-monster before him.

"That's no excuse!" Layla informed her son cheerfully as she smoothly slid into a fighting stance before quickly pouncing on her dark-haired chocolate thief.

"Ooof!" Harry grunted as the shaft of his mother's spear made contact with his mid-section despite his dodge. The dark-haired boy smoothly cartwheeled- though he fumbled the landing- before he reached down and snatched up his practice spear before rushing forward to meet his mother's attacks head-on. "This wouldn't be an issue if you hadn't left it on the kitchen table!" He told his mother in between defending against her strikes and trying to find an opening to press his assault. "What was I supposed to think?"

"That I fully planned on eating it!" Layla called back as she nimbly used the nearby rocky overhang to her advantage and somersaulted over her boy's head before aiming a strike at his unprotected back.

"That is so not how chocolate etiquette works!" Harry shot back with a grin, his eyes bright with the thrill of battle even as he shuffled backwards under the force of his mother's blows. He barely got turned around in time to block her! "If it's in the common areas, it's fair game!"

"Nope!" Layla called back merrily, stepping over Harry's attempt at swiping her feet out from under her with ridiculous ease. "That's not how it works at all!"

In the next two seconds Harry was once again disarmed and on the ground while the blade of his mother's spear tapped him gently on the neck before it was withdrawn. "Fine!" He grumbled mostly good-naturedly. "I surrender. Happy now?"

Layla grinned brightly, reaching forward to slip her fingers underneath his knit cap and lightly ruffle his dark hair before she turned on her heel and bounced off towards the house.

Harry was amused, despite the bruises that he just knew were forming from his latest bout against his mother. The dark-haired boy slipped the cover of his gloves over his fingers- his gloves were fingerless, but they had a cover that could be tugged over them if need be- and slowly began ambling his way towards the caves that housed the animals.

Forfeiting meant doing his Mom's share of the chores after all.

As he stepped inside the animal caves he grinned brightly at the welcoming feel of heat that washed over him. His Mom's Sorceress powers and some application of some Earth Runework meant that caves were nice and climate controlled. "Hey, Betsy." He called out to their dairy cow, the animal snuffing happily as Harry laid out her grain before her. Harry took a few minutes to coo and fuss over the elderly cow before moving on to the next animal. The chores were all simple enough, so he slipped into his thoughts as his body ran through the familiar motions of caring, cleaning, and gathering.

It had been nearly three years since he had unexpectedly landed on Terra- and hadn't that been a shock! He'd woken up inside his Mom's house- though, she wasn't Mom at the time- and had nearly had a mental breakdown. It had taken a lot of work- as the languages of Terra were similar but not the same as the languages of Earth- but his Mom had been patient and kind and steadfast through the learning curves and eventually she'd smoothly transitioned from being 'Miss Layla' to 'Mom'.

A small, fond smile tugged at Harry's lips as he absently shucked off his coat and hung it by the door before slipping on a work apron. My mom is awesome. He thought as he grabbed the rake and headed for the stalls. It had been Layla that had helped Harry sort through all the memories and emotional baggage that had been left behind by Lily and Tommy Riddle's souls. Harry's Empathy had helped him suppress the memories and organize them, but it hadn't really helped him deal with all of it.

Layla had been his rock throughout the process, centering him and guiding him whenever he became too lost in the other's memories and nearly lost sight of himself. There had been one notable occasion where he'd seen his Mum's- for Lily Potter would always be 'Mum'; it was part of the reason why Layla was 'Mom'- death from both sides- hers and Riddles'- and Harry had gotten so violently ill and turned around that he'd nearly killed himself because he had felt responsible for his mother's death- as it he'd committed the act himself.

Layla had pulled him through that, with her Sorceress powers- barging into his mindscape and forcibly separating the other two personalities from his own, thereby starting the healing process. When he'd come to, her natural caring nature had soothed him and helped him get through the emotionally draining and mentally taxing sessions that he needed to fully just be 'Harry' and not be partially stuck in the past.

That was incident that had marked the turning point in their relationship from being 'lost boy and weary woman' to 'mother and son'.

However, despite all the Hallmark moments between them, Terra was a much different place than Earth. For starters, there were monsters- beasts of extraordinary abilities that preyed upon humans. Harry quickly found that Layla wasn't a pushover, despite her pacifistic tendencies, so she had been training her son in the fine art of monster hunting for a little over two-and-a-half years. It had been fun, learning how to wield weapons and strip a monster of the valuable parts to sell to the traders that wandered through the villages that Layla travelled to do business with.

Harry tugged the rake a bit harder and grinned despite the tangy methane smell that permeated the stall, keeping an absent eye on the happily eating animals as he did so.

He never wanted to have to chase Billy-the-goat around ever again.

My natural, internal magic makes me different. He thought as he dumped the clumps of animal waste and hay in the wheelbarrow. Here on Terra only Sorceresses have their own power- well, there are the Blue Witches and their unique abilities, I guess. Harry shoved the soiled wheelbarrow aside and went to grab the one they used for fresh hay.

Mom says that we're going to go to Dollet to try and find me a Guardian Force. Harry thought as wheeled the clean wheelbarrow closer and mucked out fresh hay to cover the stall's floor, moving over to the next once he finished with the first. Supposedly it's what the Gardens use so that their students can use the Draw Points- natural magic reservoirs where you can 'refill' your spell log, because you can only mentally carry so many spells at a time, at least that what the traders said- and use magic.

Harry's countenance darkened, but his body stayed busy. There's talk of them building a Garden here in Trabia, out of the old Centran shelters that they used to evacuate people with after the Lunar Cry. Mom doesn't say it, but she's worried that my natural magic will act up in front of someone else and if we don't have a GF to explain it away, we could be in big trouble. Even though Adel's been gone for the better part of a decade, most people around here still fear Sorceresses- Sorceress Adel was the one who broke apart the Holy Dollet Empire, after all, and the Empire was the last of the great civilizations! Harry finished his stall work and began to lead the animals back to their individual pens.

Both Harry and Layla were softies at heart- even though they did butcher animals from time to time to use for food- and they felt that their animals should have room to move about and roam, so the stalls were generously sized. Kent- Layla's late husband and Knight- had been a softie, too, so the animals were well and truly spoiled.

Harry made his way to the clean-up shower- the outdoor one- and went through the process of cleaning all the animal gunk off of himself efficiently. As he stood under the spray- the shower was nice and toasty because his Mom's Sorceress magic plus Earth's Rune-based Wards made for some pretty amazing things- he tried to shake his dark mood, not wanting to drag it inside where his Mom would fuss over him about it.

It'll be alright. He told himself as he turned the tap off and stepped outside the shower stall, snagging his folded towel as he did so. It has to be.

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"I didn't know you were born in Dollet, Mom." Harry said to his mother as they wandered through the older, more aristocratic section of the sprawling city.

"Hmm, yes." Layla commented distractedly, slipping her arm around her son's wait almost absently as they meandered closer to her childhood home. "When I was born the Empire was still going strong, barely two decades later it had crumbled to nearly nothing. It's….difficult to speak about." Harry moved closer to his Mom and she pressed a gentle kiss to his hair before she turned her gaze back to the street they were walking down.

What they were seeing and what she remembered overlapped in her mind's eye and she took a few deep, stuttering breaths before she continued to speak.

"I left Dollet at the age of fifteen, a newly bequeathed Sorceress and scared out of my mind." She said at length, pulling to a halt in front of an ornate set of wrought-iron gates that surrounded a rather large estate. Harry could just make out the grand brick house set behind the property's many great trees.

Layla smiled, but there were bitter edges to it that made Harry angry at everything and nothing. "My parents were traditional Dollets in that they believed that a Sorceress and her Knight were meant to serve as tools of the Empire, to preserve her legacy and fight her enemies." Layla noticed the guards further down the row eying them distrustfully- and she had no intention of being discovered or arrested- so she shuffled herself and Harry further on, thankful that it was winter and her scarf hid her face quite well.

"So they made them fight for the Empire, whether they wanted to or not?" Harry asked her softly.

"Hmm. Essentially." Layla replied just as softly, her eyes fixed ahead of her seeing the ghosts of her past instead of the walkway. "Galbadia wasn't a true threat back then, far too small to come up against the true might of the Empire, but unrest had been brewing since the fall of Centra- they were the peacemakers, you see, the neutral party that mediated most large-scale disputes- but then-" Layla sighed heavily and leaned a little more of her weight against her son. "-then Sorceress Adel came with her sweet words and promises of a paradise for the Sorceresses who had been forced to do the bidding of others for so long. Many believed her and her promises of a better life and abandoned their families and countries to answer her siren's call." Layla's voice cracked but she pressed forward regardless. "They didn't find out her true colors until it was far too late and there was nowhere left for them to return to."

"That's….really sad." Harry murmured as they walked the curve of the residential drive, looping around it easily and heading back towards the main street that woul take them back to the Market. "So, they flocked to Sorceress Adel because she promised them freedom?"

"Essentially." Layla replied, her uncertainty fading as they walked further way from her once-home. "Some were simply power-mongers, of course, but many of the Sorceresses who abandoned their duties truly just wanted a place where they wouldn't be constantly monitored and expected to be…well, obedient dogs, basically."

Layla waved her free hand around in front of her as she gestured to the buildings around them. Dollet was the type of city that simply screamed lavish and snobbery, despite the cracks and dents from skirmishes that had taken place during the Sorceress War and other conflicts along the same time. Dollet managed to conceal their imperfections quite well, and was quite the tourist trap. However, hearing the stories about what used to be from someone who had lived in Dollet during her glory days, it made it easier for Harry to see Dollet for what it truly was- the last standing relic of a once-great civilization.

It was the kind of thing that couldn't be unseen once the truth shattered the illusion.

"I was already in Trabia by then, of course." Layla told him as they seamlessly merged back into the crowds of people. "But I hated fighting, and my powers weren't well-suited for combat anyways." The blond woman let out a short, bright laugh. "I found Kent by accident, you know."

"Really?" Harry perked up, craning his neck so that he could look at his mom's face- or what little of it was visible under her scarf, anyways. Harry loved hearing stories about Kent! The man had been a cross between his dad- once he'd pulled his head out of his arse- and his Earth Godfather Sirius Black. Harry was extremely sad that he hadn't had the opportunity to meet the man who had been his mom's help-mate for the better part of half a century.

"Oh, yes!" Layla laughed, tugging her son into a hug for a moment before letting him detach from her a little. "He was a native Trabian- the mountains and the Shumi's presence in the far north meant that everything passed the 'Fields is pretty much neutral territory. The mountains present too much of a challenge for a full assault- as you know, the dead of winter doesn't make Trabia a pleasant place to be! There is also the issue of things not wanting to grow in the soil and whatnot, so most village boys go out into the world to find a wife before they return home to raise a family. They call it the Journey." Layla's smile turned impossibly tender as she gazed at the cloudy sky. "Kent always said that I was his greatest find, even though his village rejected his decision to marry me and be my Knight, as they were deeply superstitious and anti-Sorceress."

"What?" Harry asked incredulously, once again craning to look up at his mom.

"Oh, yes." Layla smiled down at her son, smoothing his flyaway hairs back and gently tracing his cheek. "Some villages are neutral, and the most progressive village tend to be towards the coast, but most of the staunchly anti-Sorceress villages- including Kent's- were wiped out during the Sorceress War, mostly by suicidal Knights who had lost their Sorceresses."

"Wow." Harry said dumbly, trying to picture such a thing. For a world that was so advanced it had AI-controlled technological monstrosities that fought in place of any dozen soldiers, there were some severely backwaters areas. Then again, radio broadcasts had been down since near the end of the Sorceress war, so television was a guarded commodity despite the messaging centers and whatnot, so he just supposed that was what happened when a place had seen as much war as Terra had in recent years.

"Wow is right." Layla agreed as she led her son over towards a trader she often did business with. "Just remember, Harry, people are people wherever you go." Layla gifted her son with a sharp look, seemingly willing him to understand the importance of her words before she tugged her scarf away from her face a bit and grinned mischievously at him. "Now then." She chirped brightly. "I seem to recall someone owing me chocolate."

Harry groaned dramatically and forked over a few gil coins to his smugly smirking Mom.

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The trip to Dollet had been fun, even though they had been unable to acquire a GF crystal. Well, there had been a few, but Harry hadn't been able to get within a fingers-width of them before his Empathy started screaming at him, so they hadn't gotten one.

Layla had spent the trip playing tour guide and pointing out all the things that had changed since she was a little girl, which meant that Harry ended up learning a lot about recent history as a result.

Educational and fun trips for the win!

It was also a good turn of fortune that had them all the way home before the truly terrible part of winter began, so really everything had gone wonderfully.

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Harry's spear fell from his blood-slick fingers easily, but the boy didn't pay it any mind. "MOM!" He screamed scrambling over to his Mom's weakly breathing body and turning her over with shaky hands. "Mom." He whispered again in a choked voice. "Don't-"

"Shh, it's alright…..sweetheart." Layla grit out between labored breaths. She tried to grin at her son, but all she managed was a sickly half-smile. "We both know…..that I can't pass on without bequeathing-" Layla's body trembled as agony flared through her side, causing her to abruptly stop speaking and attempt to breathe through the pain.

Monster attacks were fairly common around the homestead, but this had been a wave of monsters- including some that normally weren't found in Trabia- and it had taken both her and Harry by surprise.

Stupid. Layla berated herself as Harry's tear-stained face swam in and out of focus above her. This winter is one of the worst in the last century; of course the monsters were going to go against their normal patterns. I should have been prepared!

"Mom?" Harry's shaky, small voice broke through Layla's self-recriminating thoughts easily; her twelve-year-old son's voice was trembling with uncertainty and she hated it.

In the three years since their trip to Dollet, her Harry had grown up quite a bit. His black hair- though his natural red highlights were fairly prominent from all his exposure to the mountain sun- was still as messy and untamable as ever. His bright green eyes were just as vibrant as always, and his new oval-shaped frames on emphasized the almond shape of his eye socket. He was quite tanned, as well, and had filled out nicely.

Harry's splash of freckles across his nose was also one of the most adorable things Layla had ever seen.

Our son is going to have all the little girls fawning over him, Kent. She thought achingly fondly as she reached out a shaky hand and gently cupped her son's tear-stained face. "Sweet-"

A bright trio of lights cut her off, and Layla could only watch in stunned foreboding as the Sorceress powers she had inherited from her predecessor left her body of their own accord and shot over to her motionless son, hovering over Harry's abdomen for a brief instant before they sank inside his skin seamlessly.

No. Layla thought desperately as darkness began to creep into her vision. No!

"It's alright, Mom." Harry's voice cut through her panic- her shame, her self-hatred, her failures- effortlessly. "It's alright." He repeated as he slipped his arms around her and brought her closer to him. "I love you, you know that?" He said shakily, his breaths coming out in short gasps as he tried to figure out how to say the thousands of things he felt for this bright, wonderful woman who had taken him in and healed him before she slipped away. "I love you." He said once more, pressing a desperate kiss to her forehead, lingering for an endless heartbeat before he sat back up to look her in the eye. "I'm proud to carry your legacy." He told her in a level voice. "I'm happy that it's me and not some random stranger, but most of all-" Tears tracked down Harry's face, but the smile he gifted Layla was the brightest, most genuine smile in the entire world. "Tell my Mum and Da hi for me, ok? And tell Kent that I can't wait to meet him, but most of all-" Harry's voice cracked as he noticed the light in his Mom's eyes begin to wane. "-but most of all, don't waste time feeling guilty, ok? It's alright. I promise it's alright. Just, watch over me, alright?"

Layla smiled up at her boy- the impossibly bright child who had swept into her life with all the force of a typhoon and had made things lively and cheerful in her darkest moments. "You're a good boy." She murmured as she began to slip off into the comforting embrace of sleep. "I'm so…proud." Layla blinked lazily a few times and tried once more to tell her son how much she loved him. "Be brave." She whispered softly, the words barely a whisper on the winds, but Harry heard them all the same. "-ove…you…"

Harry held in his sobs for nearly two minutes, not wanting to miss a miracle or any other whispered words his Mom might manage to gasp out, but eventually the knowledge that his Mom was gone crashed down onto him and all he could do was clutch her body to him and weep.

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Harry watched his Mom's body burn through tear-abused eyes, his pack of belongings at his feet. A Shumi that they regularly did business with- they simply called him Mr. Bob because the other never gave them an actual name to call him- had shown up not five hours after his Mom's final moments. Mr. Bob had been on his way towards the Shumi Village in the far north and had come across the signs of a large number of monsters, which had eventualy led him to the homestead.

"You promise you'll take care of the snimals, right?" Harry asked Mr. Bob, the silent Shumi a comforting, solid presence at his right.

Mr. Bob nodded solemly.

"Alright then." Harry said softly, his gaze tracking back towards the still blazing pyre. "I think I'll go try to join the Trabia Garden." Harry said after a long silence. "I-I can't-" Harry ducked his head ad clenched his fists at his sides. The almost-teen swallowed rapidly a few times before he managed to continue. "I just-I can't stay here right now."

Mr. Bob's hand coming down onto Harry's shoulder was unexpected enough that the boy startled a little, but he raise his head to give the Shumi male a wan smile. "I'll come back someday." He promised the other. "Mom loved this place, after all." Harry treated Mr. Bob to a crooked grin. "Hey, maybe by the time I come back you'll have gone through your change and will be a Moomba!"

Mr. Bob said nothing, but his whole being seemed to brighten at that.

"Well, I had better get going if I want to make it to Brin before dark, otherwise I'll be stuck here until the next set of storms pass through." Harry gave the Shumi male beside him a gentle smile. "Be careful, alright?"

Mr. Bob nodded solemnly.

"There's plenty of preserves in the cellar." Harry babbled in agitation, torn between leaving and staying. "We had gone out to hunt and were caught unprepared to face such a large amount of monsters. We'd almost made it back to the safety of the homestead before Mom took the hit that-" Harry's breath caught painfully in his chest, but he gritted his teeth and pressed forward. "-killed her." Harry gave the solemn Shumi one last quicksilver smile before he forced his feet to carry him away from the only home he had ever truly known.

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Harry stood on the deck of the ship that would take him to Balamb Garden. Balamb Garden was situated on the Island of Balamb, near the base of the Gulag Mountains, so at least he'd have mountains to look at to remind him of home. The easy access to the ocean was a somewhat new and exciting idea, but Harry could already tell that Balamb's idea of 'mild weather' and Harry's idea of 'mild weather' were likely entirely different.

Trabia Garden's Intake Officer- once Harry had made it to the Garden, it had taken him nearly a month!- had suggested that Harry go straight to Balamb Garden- the only Garden that actually administered the SeeD Exam- as his education was pretty far ahead of most of his age-mates at Trabia.

"It's not that I don't think that you'd be an asset to Trabia, Harry." Officer Kane had told him, the man's tranquil dark eyes earnest and sincere. "I just think that since Trabia is so small, you'll have social issues due to your educational advantage. At a bigger Garden such as Balamb- because you mentioned wanting to explore junctioning with a Guardian Force, and Galbadia doesn't use GF's- there should be enough other students to keep you from being a social pariah."

Harry had appreciated the man's thoughtfulness- as his Primary School experiences were pretty much ancient history and it had been just him and his Mom for ages- and so he had accepted the advice to transfer to Balamb. He appreciated Trabia's willingness to help, as well as the Officer's honesty and candidness, so there would always be a special spot in his heart for the small Garden.

The ship slid to a stop and the crew began to tie her down.

Well. Harry thought in trepidation as the docking ramp went down. This is it.

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