General disclaimer: I claim no ownership of the characters used in this story, and I claim no ownership of the Harry Potter franchise in general.

While I generally disagree with directly copying people's work, feel free to take mine and use it as you wish in your own stories, however since it is against policy to have duplicated uploads of content, I must disallow anybody reuploading my work in its entirety on this site. If you do reupload it elsewhere, please give me credit though!

This story is definitely AU. I want to diverge how Harry lived his life from the very beginning of the books. He will still have the same life as pre-Hogwarts Harry, but I want him to be a somewhat smarter 11 year old than normal who is thrust into a difficult situation and somehow bears the pressure adequately. Think of it this way, if Harry could cook, clean, garden, go to school, deal with the pressure of neglect from relatives, deal with stress of being bullied by said relatives, surely he can juggle the responsibilities on an under-age Lord? (Which amount to being careful about how he behaves and talks, and who he talks to really for his years as a child, and learning about and also how to perform his duties as Lord, while going to school to learn MAGIC, I mean what child doesn't want to learn magic?)

This first chapter is just the prologue. I may do a prequel to this if I ever finish it, I have a lot pre-written already, some set during Harry's schoolyears(This would be distant, DISTANT future). Please give feedback in reviews, I want to give you a pristine product, not a half-arsed jumble of words. This prologue has a LOT packed in, but the next chapter should be more ordered. I need to give you a lot of information to set the scene I want, as there are not many similarities between this Harry's school life and original Harry.

First uploaded 22/4/16

Now then, on with the story!

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A black-gauntleted arm outstretched towards the ground, a back stooped to pick up the loose sand-like soil and roll it gently between the metal-clad tips of fingers. All around was a familiar sight in the 2004 British country-side, nothing but desolate, barren terrain stretching for miles and miles.

Harry James Potter straightened his back and surveyed the distant landscape. Sandy dunes spread for miles, the occasional skeleton of a chimney stack or low wall were scattered about breaking up the rolling landscape. All was normal, bar one thing. The almost pristine small, white house that stood proudly amidst the sandy ground rising above all of the surrounding dunes was the only irregularity. It sat on a perfect circle of emerald-green and well-trimmed grass, with small amounts of rubble to the left, right and front, signifying where the previous houses and road once were. Moving away from the house, a small stretch of grey lumps littered the ground, showing where other houses and the asphalt road used to sit.

His journey was almost over. He would go inside, retrieve his prize, and return home. The corner of his mouth was quirked at the pleasant thought of a hot bath and good food back at Hogwarts. His mood soured and he bit back a groan when he forcibly reminded himself of the politics and almost assured anger he would likely be returning to also. The risk was worth the reward, but he felt tired just thinking of the repercussions he would almost certainly feel upon his return.

Not a grain of sand moved into the green circle. A perfect circle of perfect grass and perfectly clean paths. Harry was almost certain that if he went around back that he would find some perfectly kept rose beds. A circle that time seemed to have forgotten. Harry made his way to the door where a slightly battered looking number four was affixed.

"Looks like Mum's wards were stronger than Albus thought." A slightly amused Harry murmured to himself quietly. He hadn't seen this house in almost 6 years, and it looked exactly like it did when he, and shortly afterwards the Dursleys, left. A small mutter and a gesture of an empty, un-gauntleted hand, and the door clicked open.

As he pushed his way inside, a small whiff of bacon grease made him wince as it assaulted his nostrils. The scent left quickly and was replaced by the acidic smells of cleaning fluids and stale lavender scent.

'A minor improvement to the usual stench, I suppose.' He thought morbidly. He remembered the horrific shelter he had last found himself in, along with its deceased occupants. The perfectly preserved bodies of the Muggleborn couple found at the foot of the stairs. The door to the nursery upstairs was ajar. He never found the courage to peek inside, but past experiences already told him what he would find.

Clearing his head of the morbid thoughts, he glanced about inside. Almost nothing was out of place. Thoughts of his relatives leaving in a hurry made him chuckle. To leave without taking everything of worth, they must have been worried. His eyes landed on the small cupboard under the stairs and a grimace found its way onto his lightly shaven face. He remembered time spent under the stairs, his body in pain and often bleeding, while his magic healed his battered skin. He quickly walked over to the tiny door.

He ripped the door open with the metal claw on his right arm, and poked his head through the opening. Cobwebs, dead spiders, and a musky odour greeted him. A quick flick of his bare left hand and all was clear in the cupboard. A tattered mattress along with a slightly off-colour patch of concrete was seen beneath the vanished filth. A smug grin appeared on his lips, and a massive feeling of vindication filled him.

'Hermione will be so mad she was wrong' he chuckled to himself in his mind. He sobered when he realised what that might mean for his own health. 'Scary woman.'

His left hand now filled with a thin, knotted stick of Elder-wood, a short jab vanished the offending concrete. Reaching in, his hand came out tenderly holding a small gold band with a feminine and stylised 'P' inset into it. A sad look crossed his face as thoughts of his mother's final sacrifice entered his mind.

'Her wedding ring. The ring Dad gave her.' He thought to himself, with a sad undertone. He was happy to have yet another of his parent's possessions with him, especially considering what significance it held, but he couldn't help thinking of the what-ifs.

Albus had been correct, and incorrect in his assumption about his mother's sacrifice. Yes, her sacrifice protected him, and yes, he needed to be near the ring for it to work. However, there was no need to be near his horrific relatives for it to protect him. Albus had been a kind soul and thought the best of people he didn't know intimately, one of his biggest failings really.

What his mother had done was Old Magick. Very powerful Old Magick. There were no complete records of how these spells or rituals were done, only that they predate the Founders by several generations, and were incredibly powerful and far more common back then. While wand making was commonplace in most of the European magical societies, wands were a rarity in Britain back then and non-existent in Ireland, therefore old ritual Magick was the most common sort of witchcraft or wizardry performed.

When he thought of his mother's accomplishment, he felt immensely proud. She had little but guesswork and rumour to work with, and she had recreated one of the most powerful rituals known to wizardkind. He still didn't know if she took a risk with what she did, he didn't know if she knew what she was doing, or was just hopeful. He hadn't spoken to her in years, and he didn't intend to anytime soon. He wanted to let her rest, along with his father and Sirius. Using the stone was bad, not for their spirits, but for his mental health. The strongest of wizards can still fall to their temptations.

The beautiful wedding ring stood out starkly against his black, metal-clad arm. It was basically another Hallow. His mother's magic hummed faintly within if he stretched out his magic to it. In her dying moments, Lily Potter nee Evans had pushed all her magic, all her desire to save her son, even her very soul briefly entered the ring, and gave the object a purpose before she passed on. 'Protect Harry'.

He now had the four most powerful items in Britain in his possession or on his person. He had Albus Dumbledore's wand, the greatest tool of power, might, and avarice. The greatest weapon, the most efficient tool for spreading death. He had the Gaunt family ring, the irreplaceable tool, and ultimate temptation. The only object which could be used to communicate with the dead. He had his father's cloak which can hide the wearer from even Death himself; or herself, Harry supposed. The ultimate tool of stealth or reconnaissance. Now, his mother's ring, the tool he will use to protect himself and his surviving friends from Voldemort.

He was happy this trip had paid off. Two weeks travelling on foot through deserted towns, barren landscapes and avoiding Death Eater patrols had taken it out of him. It was safe to Apparate home, but moving via magical means was a sure-fire method of finding yourself surrounded by Death Eaters. With the Floo destroyed, the Knight Busses understandably out of business, and even brooms being unsafe, walking was the only way to ensure he wasn't found.

Not that it would make much difference if he was found. There were few wizards in Britain that could match him one versus two or three, his near-equals he could count in under a dozen. But safety and espionage were paramount now. Scotland would soon be invaded if he was found this far south.

Harry stepped out of the now receding circle of green grass. With his wand in his hand as a few mutters passed his lips and the house began to crumble behind him. The spells he used were simple ones, to accelerate decay and cause entropy using the least amount of magic possible, while hiding his magical signature successfully. Harry said nothing, but was glad all the same that the house was no more.

Not only would the Death Eaters now see the house with his mother's and Dumbledore's wards gone, but it would let them see it in perfect condition. This would have led to suspicions of a powerful spell protecting something important. He did his best to make the now dismantled house into sand similar to its surroundings. Once satisfied, he was on his way again.

While he could safely Apparate back into the Scottish borders without his enemies knowing, they would know where he Apparated from(AN:Small note, the term "Apparition" is the name of the method of travel, you Apparate to your final destination, and you Disapparate from your starting location.). Harry did not want anyone snooping around and finding his magical signature, however faint, anywhere near his previous residence. Once he was almost two miles from the previous location of No.4 Privet Drive, he gathered his magic, turned on his heel, and disappeared with only the softest 'pop' as he Disapparated away.

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Not five minutes later, a team of twenty Death Eaters Apparated in with sharp cracks and started casting various detection spells and warding the area against any Portkey travel or Apparition. A two hour search turned up no results, no safe house, no bolt hole, no supplies, not even a magical signature from the Apparition.

The lead investigator, a rotund man barely fitting in his black robes, knew this could only mean a powerful wizard. The fact that there was no detected unauthorised Apparition to anywhere else in England, Wales or Ireland could only mean one of two things. Either a highly talented wizard Apparated into a very heavily warded house within reasonable distance, or, the more likely answer, Potter or one of his more powerful followers had been here, and Apparated all the way back to a safe house either in Wales or Northern England, perhaps even France, or dare he even think it, Scotland...

This fact worried Lead Investigator FitzGoyle heavily. Apparating from one end of the street to the other was a tiny amount of magic, barely more magic than it would take a person to blink. Twice that distance was about three blinks. Twice that distance was 10 blinks. However, Apparating several miles left many a wizard or witch a bit out of breath, a tad dizzy really, and plenty tired. Most peoples limit without the aid of wards, even in this day and age, was twenty-five to thirty miles maximum. Apparating several hundred miles was unthinkable. The magic required to Apparate from where they were standing to Wales or France, let alone Scotland was several times more than a normal witch or wizard had in their whole bodies. To do so without leaving a magical trace... Potter had always been known to be on par with their Dark Lord. Anyone heard saying it, however, was soon found tortured senseless.

FitzGoyle would need to talk to his superiors about this, before the rest of his team started gossiping. He saw a few worried faces from a few who he guessed knew what they were looking at already. Having them Obliviated seemed like a good idea. They wouldn't want panic in the ranks.

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Harry arrived somewhere in the Scottish Highlands, slightly dizzy. Long distance and stealthy apparitions were always unreliable for their accuracy. Few could actually do it, and nobody could do it as far as Harry, therefore little was known about it bar his experience with it. He was just glad he hadn't ended up in a lake again. Hermione would be furious with him if she found out. She hated how unpredictable and dangerous it was, simply because she couldn't guarantee his safety and she had never read about it before and didn't know the risks involved.

"It shouldn't even be possible!" He remembered her huffing, exasperated with him. "It was dangerous, risky, and completely irresponsible Harry!" she had exclaimed while frowning at him. All of a sudden she was teary-eyed and hugging him, holding his elbows into his ribs. "Prat." She had muttered at him hoarsely into his already soaked shirt.

"I'm sorry 'Mione." He had muttered into the crown of her head, his hands trapped at his sides in her embrace. "I had to get out, the Lestrange brothers, a Carrow, and a FitzBlack had me cornered. I took Carrow's wand-arm but no way could I fight all of them off." He mumbled into her hair. She calmed down some, and then held him at arm's length, looking him in the eye with determination shining bright from hers.

"Teach me" she said evenly. He had chuckled, he remembered, and placed his own hands on her shoulders, and said "Of course 'Mione." Before giving her a friendly embrace again. If Ron had walked in on the scene, he likely would have blown a gasket. While he had turned into an alright fighter, he was by no means more mature. He still considered Hermione 'his' and Harry, out of respect to his first friend, and not wanting to deal with a sulky Ron, never advanced on Hermione as more than a friend. He was mature enough to realise that his own fear of ruining a perfectly good friendship with Hermione also played a part, but he convinced himself it was for the best.

It made no difference that Ron grew up in a poor family and knew Harry was his Lord, who had paid for his and his and his sibling's education at Hogwarts of all places; his disrespect towards Harry had yet to find a limit when he was jealous or sulking. Harry found Ron's lackadaisical treatment of him both refreshing, and in recent years annoying. Sure, Ron treated him like 'one of the guys' but so did plenty of people who also respected him and his accomplishments.

Lord Harry James Potter had claimed his title at the age of eleven with the help of Albus Dumbledore, and was made aware of his responsibilities throughout the month before attending his first year at Hogwarts and also throughout his schooling by Professors and his friend Neville.

Harry slipped into fond memories of his younger self for a moment while the cool Scottish summer breeze blew his light cloak about. He remembered a younger Neville fondly; one of his first links into the higher society of the wizarding world, and of the escapades the two lordlings had found themselves getting up to.

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Neville was a shy boy at eleven, slightly chubby, but he was relieved to make a fast friend in Harry in the first month of school after Harry retrieved his Remembrall for him, and brought it to him that evening before curfew. Neville may have been introverted, but he was well versed in the dealings of his house, House Longbottom, and his ally's house, House Potter. Harry learned quickly that while he was polite, he did not have the training Neville had in etiquette and the Pureblood traditions common in the Wizengamot. That training was given to him over Christmas break that year when he asked the Headmaster for it, and a tutor was sent to No.4 to teach him over the summer months by Albus.

Needless to say, the Dursleys were unhappy, but cowed once the realised that a wizard would be visiting daily, and would see if they had been mistreating Harry. Returning to Hogwarts for his second year was a young Lord Potter, polite, friendly to all, yes even Slytherins, and ready for the attention his status would bring.

Harry's Hogwarts life had been quite eventful, even considering the other British magical schools. Albus Dumbledore had provided excellent protection to Harry and all of the Hogwarts students, even as these bad times were upon them even before Harry had been born. Bearing the title The-Boy-Who-Lived was no easy task for the young Lord. His mother's protection had thrust him even further into the spotlight of the wizarding world than the young Lord was ready for. His first visit to Diagon Alley, as the large metropolis had affectionately been known, still sent shivers down his spine. It seemed like the tens of thousands of magical folk who lived in Diagon Alley and its surrounding 'Alleys' and suburbs were there waiting to welcome him. It had taken 2 hours to get to Gringott's. That was also the first of many attempts on his life.

A sharp crack, an explosion, and two green bursts of light was all that Harry remembered of that day past lunch time. Dumbledore escorting him had been a good idea; there had been three deaths in the crowd from the suicidal Death Eater from the explosion and curses before he was brought down by a nasty Reductor curse to the shoulder. That was the last time he went into the Alley without at least two guards, and under an invisibility cloak. His visits would be late in the evening when the crowds for shopping would die down, and he was under one, or maybe two Notice-me-Not charms, keyed so only his friends and protectors could easily recognise him.

When he had woken the day after the attack, Dumbledore had explained everything to him. How he was famous for ending the Dark Lord Voldemort. How people adored him for it. He was informed of the last war Voldemort had brought to wizarding Britain, and the thousands lost in it. It was explained how the majority of the Pureblood's thought about Muggleborn witches and wizards. How they believed Muggleborns were 'dirty', and called them 'Mudbloods' and other derogatory terms. It was explained how many of the 'dark' families and branch-families escaped Azkaban by bribing the Ministry, and pleading being under an Imperious. Once safe, it didn't take long for attacks on the wizarding schools teaching Muggleborns to begin.

The idea was that if the 'Mudbloods' couldn't be taught in any of the schools, and then they couldn't fight back as easily. Muggleborns went from being taught at all 20 schools of magic in Britain, to only 5 in 10 years. The schools couldn't keep repairing and paying for damages and deaths on the school grounds. It restricted almost 75 Muggleborn witches and wizards to only a choice of the top 5 best and most expensive schools, which many couldn't pay for. Scholarships were put in place, paying fifty percent of the tuition for these schools, but again it was still far too expensive.

Dumbledore explained many things to him that day, how the Purebloods worked, how many of the 'dark' Pureblood families had branch-families. Normally called FitzGoyle, FitzBlack, or Fitz-Whatever, meaning it was a high standing family very closely or directly related to either House Goyle, or House Black, or House Whatever. These families were always inferior to the 'Main' family, but were normally treated like adopted siblings or cousins. They could never inherit from the 'Main' family, but they often supported each other like brother or sister. Dumbledore said there were several dozen of these families, often with five of six competent or dangerous wizards in each 'Main' and 'Branch' family, who had been allied with Voldemort and were not happy about his demise and wanted vengeance and to carry on his war.

They still fought to have Muggleborns made into servants for them, but less strategically now. Gone were the well-timed attacks on large numbers of Muggleborns and 'blood traitors', now only short, violent and almost useless attacks on one or two witches or wizards, normally with the offender being caught and a life-sentence in Azkaban being issued. However, there was the occasional well-planned assassination of a Muggleborn or 'blood traitor' who spoke too loudly against them.

By the time Dumbledore was finished explaining, young Harry had many questions, but as it was late, kept them for later.

'Probably doesn't want to scare me more than he has already' he had thought. Harry was not a dull boy; he knew Dumbledore had not told him everything; however he was very overwhelmed by these revelations all coming so close together. He trusted Dumbledore, although he was wary of how he would be used by him later in life. Albus had insisted on Harry learning all he could about Magical Britain before he entered school in four weeks time. Visits by some Professors who knew his parents and one or two close friends of Albus' were arranged, where Harry would learn about Magical Britain. He was given small introductions into how the Government worked, called the Ministry, some information on Aurors, and introductions to some of the sports and subjects, and even a quick tutorial by Albus on how to cast some basic spells.

Thankfully, Harry was right to trust Dumbledore. Several attempts were made to try to get into Hogwarts to harm him; all were prevented thanks to Albus. While he was against killing the offenders, they likely never forgot how strong his stunners or reductors could be, or how impenetrable his shield spells were. Albus would be constantly preparing him for a war that many said would never come, however he was glad of this, because when the war did come, it was Hell on earth. Literally.

It was found that Voldemort had somehow been resurrected. He had a hideous, grey, homunculus body, inhabited by his disjointed soul. Apparently, he had used a dark branch of Soul magic to keep himself alive after death, and re-arranged his soul after dying so that he could be brought back. During his roaming as a spirit for nigh on sixteen years, he became aware of an even darker magic that had been lost. He sacrificed his weakest or useless followers to summon real, live demons. Large, hulking, red, gorilla-like beasts with snake like scales for skin, bright yellow slitted eyes, a maw of fangs, black claws and horns. Most were seven foot tall, ran on all fours at high speeds, and could rip a man limb from limb as if he was paper. Basically they were Werewolves on steroids. They were also sentient, to a degree. They rarely turned on the Death eaters, though it did happen. Their skin was impervious to most Magicks, thankfully however they were extremely easy to ward against. Most people knew of the Dementors of Azkaban, but none asked where they came from. Everyone just knew they couldn't be killed, didn't age, and answered to the Ministry. These beasts came from somewhere similar to the Dementors, which had also been summoned long ago using a branch of Demonology. When these demonic abominations came, allied by Dementors and Death Eaters, slaughter truly began.

When Voldemort brought war back to wizarding Britain for the second time, there were no neutral parties. Dozens of families flocked to his banner, and the many, many previously neutral families quickly aligned with the Light, Albus Dumbledore and Lord Harry Potter. None of them wanted to be of the side of a mad-man who could summon demons.

Within weeks, tens of thousands of magicals were dead, and millions of muggles. The Death Eaters used some old rituals found in ancient family grimoires, adjusted and scaled up, which caught all the natural magic in an area, bar whatever was in a witch or wizards body already, compressed it into a tiny area the size of a grain of sand, and released it all at once. The original purpose of these rituals was to gather tainted or dangerous magical radiation from an area and slowly filter it back into the environment as 'safe' magic. However, through some perverse editing and adjustment, the methods were recreated in reverse accompanied by an explosion comparable to a muggle nuclear bomb. While magicals and muggles alike died in the explosion, the radiation afterwards was completely safe, even healthy to live in for a magical. Every person in magical Britain, Northern France, Iceland and Ireland who had a magical core now found themselves getting significantly stronger.

These explosions could be warded against quite easily. After all, the Magical world in general may be ignorant of the muggle capabilities to destroy them with a single bomb, but the Department of Mysteries weren't. They researched muggle weapons and actively experimented in ways to defend against them. Transfiguring the bombs would work, but what if the explosion went off before it was seen? So, the wards in place across Magical Britain saved the lives of ninety percent of the population from the explosions. The problem was that now these ward nets were basically useless against the combined Demon and super-powered Death Eater forces. The Ministry buildings and all of the Magical towns in England and Wales and Southern Scotland fell to Death Eater rule in days.

This radiation helped magical cores develop beyond what was thought possible. Suddenly people who previously couldn't even fire a stunner without passing out could demolish buildings with ease. Old wards became easy to over-power and break, and new wards were nearly indestructible. Complex rituals and spells, such as the Patronus Charm became much easier to master, and old powerful Magicks and spells which had fallen out of use due to weaker witches and wizards were being used again.

While the magicals thrived, the muggles died. The explosions and radiation were explained away by the rest of the world as nuclear testing gone horribly wrong, or a terrorist attack, or both, and the British Isles and Ireland were evacuated of all muggles. The explosions only covered Southern England and most of Wales, with little else surviving between the blasts radii. Similar rituals were stopped in Northern England, and all of Scotland, bar the island of Azkaban. The radiation spread far and wide almost instantly, either changing the natural magic in the area or replacing it with something stronger, resulting in a few injuries when witches and wizards accidentally over-powered spells.

These explosions also had the fortunate effect of making most of England Unplottable, meaning that Muggles wouldn't be snooping around the war-zone that is Magical Britain. Britain was almost wiped off of the map to the muggles. Satellite imagery came up as either blank or full or static, planes that flew over 'Britain' never returned, and soldiers and scientists, even fully-clad in radiation-proof suits, died within days after a week or two of exposure to this radiation. This tragedy shocked the outside world, both muggle and magical, to the core. Many muggle governments were on edge at the news of Britain, but ultimately no conflict arose. The magical governments grew more and more wary as reports kept coming in from the decimated country. An island as large as Britain, almost completely Unplottable, and full of thousands of magic-users who could each take down a hundred trained men... The results of the magical civil war in Britain would affect the globe.

The only reason that the Light had survived the initial attack was thanks to Albus Dumbledore. Albus had seemingly thought of everything. A resistance movement, The Order of the Phoenix, was in place to prevent as much damage as possible. Wards had been thought up to prevent access to an area if they bore the Dark Mark, and now that warding was so much stronger, it took not even a week after the explosions for all of Scotland to be covered in huge ward schemes stopping the entry of Demons and Death Eaters.

One thousand wands strong, the Order prevented all major attacks on Scotland and Northern England by themselves. Hundreds died in the first two weeks defending the unprotected border, and reclaiming land when the wards fell. They were many; however each of Voldemort's inner circle could easily kill twenty without breaking a sweat. They were weak fighters, but strong of heart, they had trusted Dumbledore when he said war was coming, and made the ultimate sacrifice to protect their families.

Upon news of the Dark Lords return, many of the Light and previously Neutral families did not panic. They did not take their children from Hogwarts and flee; they brought their families to Hogwarts and offered their wands in service. It took months for most families to safely escape Death Eater reign, but once they were across the border, they were quickly accepted into many of the magical towns. All the able-bodied were soon put to work as response teams, and many safety measures were in place in the case that a ward was brought down. There were two hundred trained witches and wizards on standby at all times to react to a ward falling and Death Eaters swarming in.

The Demons Voldemort had summoned were soon useless, as they had completely obliterated every non-protected house in England, Wales, and Ireland, and now could not enter Scotland as the wards to confuse them were exceptionally easy to craft. They quickly turned on their handlers, decimated a few hundred of Voldemort's weaker minions, and were promptly killed off and harvested for materials by the Death Eaters. The odds quickly evened out, as the super-powered Death Eaters fought the super-powered defenders to a stalemate each battle. Harry was constantly at the fore of every battle. He was their rock, their Hero. Albus, in his old age and frailty after the initial battles, passed in his sleep not a month after the second Great War began, but not before telling Harry of his destiny.

A Prophecy had been foretold about him and Voldemort. A Prophecy which stated that Harry had the power to defeat the Dark Lord, and that only he could kill him. How he could never really live until Voldemort was dead. How he was the foretold Chosen One and that Voldemort was scared of him. How he was the last piece of Voldemort's puzzle, and the only link left to him. He was also told of the piece of Tom Riddle living in his scar. Albus explained to him that he might need to be killed before Voldemort could be killed, unless the soul-piece was removed. This had shaken Harry's resolve, however he knew exactly how cruel and evil Voldemort was, and he would do what was right if it was necessary.

Albus was the proverbial posthumous figurehead for the older generation of witches and wizards who initially doubted Harry. The younger generation saw Harry as the poster-boy for this war, the young, dashing, single, Lord Potter leading the charge in battle.

Voldemort had been absent from every major fight or battle which Harry had been involved in, and had simply stayed behind his lines of minions and summoned more beasts in the initial fights, and when the demons were ineffective, disappeared from the later battles all together. Harry and Voldemort would meet in battle perhaps once or twice per year, and it would always end in a stalemate between the two. Harry had his fair share of scars from these and other battles, along with his childhood marks, but never had he been grievously wounded by another Death Eater other than Voldemort. He was always able to slip away from a lost battle, no matter how difficult or impossible the odds seemed. It was like no-one could fatally hurt him bar Voldemort...

Five years of fighting later to 2004, we find a war torn Harry standing on his hill in Scotland coming back from his recollection of his school years at Hogwarts. A sudden stronger burst of wind brought him out of his thoughts suddenly, as he looked towards the sky as it darkened, signifying rain for the evening. A curse and a swift turn on his heel later, Harry was gone without a sound.

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Harry reappeared before his childhood school with nothing but a 'pop' with his arrival. The large town of Hogsmeade was behind him. All the Light's Pureblood, Halfblood, and Muggleborn families had taken up residence in the village shortly after Voldemort's return, so the 'village' quickly became a large town with the influx of people. People there lived a fulfilling life. They had the luxuries they would have had in the Alley or any of the other magical towns across Britain, and were safe behind the almost impenetrable wall of wards now in place around Scotland. Most if not all of these families offered up one or two fighters to the war.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry stood before him on its hill. New additions had been made over the previous 5 years, and while Space-Expansion charms helped with the space now required inside the castle, they could not accommodate all of its occupants.

A barracks had been attached to the castle, the Greenhouses dug up, moved, expanded, and replanted to help with the large amounts of potions needed, two new towers were added around the barracks for military needs so the fighters could be separate from the children in the castle, a mess hall built for the soldiers, a whole, previously unused, wing of the castle was repurposed to teach new recruits to fight, and to allow the soldiers to train without incident. Overall, the castle had gained only an extra thirty percent in size; however this section was simplistic and heavily militaristic in style, no talking portraits, no moving staircases, just bare walls and hard stone.

Harry cringed as he just remembered he was several days late on his arrival. It was not the first time this had happened, far from it, it had happened almost every other scout mission he took, but he had never been gone for so long before, nor was he ever as late. The castles residents had expected him back in one week, considering his usual pace, and he was already seven days and a few hours late in returning. He wiped a hand down his face and sighed heavily to the amusement of the guards on the gate in front of him. The guards respectfully tried to hide their laughing, but did nothing to hide their smirks, as they knew the fate that awaited him back at the castle. Damn, it was likely the whole of bloody Hogsmeade would hear him being yelled at; he was surprised he wasn't a laughingstock at this stage.

"Could you light your wand for us please, Lord Sorcerer?" One of the heavily smirking guards asked him. That was a new thing as well. Something the higher ups came up with when he wasn't there. Wizards and witches were granted titles now based on station and power. With the magical radiation basically super-powering everyone, feats of magic now held more sway than blood purity in the Light community. It was never discriminatory, but the higher rank you were, the higher the respect you held. Not him though. No, Lord Sorcerer Harry James Potter, the most powerful wizard in all of Great Britain bar none, the youngest Sorcerer in the ranks, and he got gate-guards laughing at him every time he came back late. Of course he would hate it if the treated him like a God-on-Earth too, he would pick cheeky guards over fangirls any day of the week.

Harry flashed the tip of his wand bright blue for a half-second for the guards to identify his magical signature. With the natural magic in the air now being more responsive to any wizard's magic, effectively boosting everyone's power by quiet a substantial amount, previously high level detection spells became common detection spells. Ten years ago all they did was weigh your wand to see if you were who you said you were, checking every person's magical signature when they passed the entrance to the Ministry of Magic would be ludicrous, now it was common procedure. You can't fool a magical signature with Polyjuice.

The cheeky guards waved him in, and he marched to his inevitable demise in the castle. He began steeling himself on his walk up, it took about fifteen minutes carriage ride to make it to Hogsmeade from the castle, so he had perhaps thirty minutes, maybe a bit more to think up a good excuse as he quickened his pace towards the main door of the castle. He couldn't believe himself, had he lost all his pride? A rhetorical question he knew, but all the same he felt his neck start to sweat from the anticipation.

When the open doors greeted him in the distance, he was ashamed to leave out a large sigh of relief to not see a bushy-haired brunette in uniform with an electric blue sash there waiting for him. He was a little sad he had no warm welcome, but he was terrified that they thought him dead. Knowing Hermione, she might just kill him for making her think he was gone forever. Another soft smile crossed his face, similar to his one for Neville, as he began to think of his first female friend.

#####

The know-it-all brunette from their first meeting on the Express had matured into beautiful young lady, prim and prudent. She had considered herself awfully important to be attending the Hogwarts as a Muggleborn, a feat which was rare in that time in 1991. Perhaps three Muggleborns entered per year into the prestigious school.

However, this was not always a good thing, as Hogwarts did not discriminate at all, and just as many Dark families attended as Light. The Light side had more variety, Abbot, Bones, Longbottom, Potter, Patil, Thomas, Macmillan, Turpin, and Boot to name just a few of Harry's 'light' classmates. However, the 'dark' families' banner flew just as high, but with less variation. Crabbe, FitzCrabbe, Goyle, FitzGoyle, Malfoy, Nott, FitzNott, and a FitzBlack also, just in his year alone. There were few of the 'branch' families outside of the Slytherin table, just as there were few 'Dark' names outside of it too.

Hermione considered herself both privileged and worthy of attending Hogwarts. Her confident, mightier-than-thou attitude lasted all of a month before she was close to tears whenever a Slytherin even looked at her. Ron, the bloody prat, didn't help much by ridiculing her, a fellow house-mate. Harry felt sorry for her; he believed her bluster and confidence to be a facade to help stop herself from being overwhelmed by her newfound situation. He may have been in a similar situation if he didn't have the assistance that he had before arriving to Hogwarts.

On the night of the Halloween Feast, she did not attend, and Harry became worried. All students were required to attended the evening meal, as well as any important feast, like this one. When Hagrid, red-faced and panting, lumbered into the hall and made his way up to the Headmaster and whispered none too quietly that he had encountered a troll which had obviously been baited onto the grounds by some of the students Harry got a sinking feeling in his gut. His gut sank lower when a select few of the high year Slytherins had dark smirks on their faces, quickly hidden behind goblets or pieces of dinner.

As soon as he could, Harry made his way silently from the Great Hall unnoticed in the clamour of the evening, feigning a stomach ache. He made a mad dash for the main door, and out onto the grounds. He quickly jogged down to the Black Lake to a spot which he knew Hermione frequented to do homework uninterrupted. Not even the library was free of Slytherins.

When Harry had spotted her scattered books and some heavy footprints in a patch of mud nearby, his 'bad feeling' moved straight into panic. His frantic search of the surrounding copse of trees, separate from the Forbidden Forest showed some promise, as yet another notebook was found. He reasoned if he found the troll he could see if Hermione was safe or not, and if he found Hermione he could get her back to the castle relatively quickly.

A short five minutes later found him face to face with a terrified and sniffling Hermione Jane Granger. Her waterworks truly started when she realised that no-one goes into the copse of tree for no good reason and she quickly deduced he had been searching for her when she saw he was carrying her notebook. She quickly latched on to him, sobbing and quietly thanking him while simultaneously telling him how she had ended up running when she saw the troll lumbering towards her spot by the lake, and how she watched it toss her things about. She had run when it looked in her direction, and she hadn't moved because she had heard it follow her. Her sobbing into his robes and clinging to him eventually brought upon them a scorched, angry troll which was surprisingly stealthy in its natural habitat of the light, mountainous forest.

A short, loud bellow was all the warning the two had before they were charged by a ten-foot, seven tonne mountain troll. It quickly shortened the hundred foot distance between them to a scant twenty foot in a matter of seconds with its long, hefty strides. It ploughed through the light scrub before it, and didn't look to be slowing down.

"Run!" Harry had yelled as he shoved her out of the range of its massive body, while he himself did the best he could to avoid its enormous club. He last saw her stumble backwards over a high root and fall out of sight of the troll, just as it clipped Harry's left shoulder with its club. White-hot pain flashed through all his left arm and shoulder as he spun and landed on his right side, jarring his injured half, but he managed to not black out. Its charge brought it past their previous location by several dozen feet, with it looking confused as to why there wasn't human-flavoured jam covering its club.

Harry, more out of fear for his life than anything, fished out his wand from his robes and sloppily slashed wordlessly with it in front of him while pushing as much magic as he could into it as if warding off the troll. He felt a surge flow through his right arm as the troll turned thirty feet in front of him, and locked on to him immediately, a dark look in its eyes. A flash from his wand signified a spell of some sort, which the troll winced at and shielded its face with an arm. Harry, weakening, felt hopeless. He only hoped Hermione had made it back to the castle.

As the troll recovered from the flash of light from the, apparently, non-existent spell, and lowered its arm from its ugly misshapen face, its lips curved into a sick grin as it took a slow step towards the downed Gryffindor. Harry's internal thoughts at this stage resemble something along the lines of 'OHSHITOHSHITOHSHITIMSODEADOHSHITOHSHIT!'. This was understandable in the circumstances.

A tiny crack, like a twig snapping, stopped its movement. It looked around in confusion and trepidation at the noise. A second, much louder crack, startled it tremendously, as it still didn't know from where the sound was being made, it came from all around. A third, almost thunderous, crack made it stop its search immediately, and while it craned its neck upwards several cracks and moans of splitting wood could be heard by it from above. It spotted the source of the sounds just in time for it to see the last thread of wood and bark holding a large, thick branch in place break.

The troll had enough time to widen its eyes humorously large, before being smashed in the face by a branch twice as large as its club falling from twenty feet above its head. It was blatantly dead. If the force of the branch hitting it wasn't enough evidence, its caved in cranium slowly being surround by a red puddle was definitive proof of its demise.

Harry stared on in shock during all this. From his viewpoint, it was obvious what was going on. He was in the correct position to both hear, and see the branch fall. The troll's position under the branch was what gave the illusion of the sound coming from all around, Harry had no doubt if the troll had been a little more to the right, left, front, or back, he would have heard it and Harry would be the pancake, instead of the troll. A short cry of shock brought Harry out of his thoughts.

There stood his Head of House, along with a teary-eyed, bushy-haired witch, both stood stock still and amazed at what they saw. An eleven year old boy had brought down a troll. Never mind about luck, or a fluke, or the fact that trolls weren't especially smart to begin with, adult witches and wizards who had trained to hunt trolls would have difficulty bringing down a troll this size. Minerva McGonagall was unsure herself whether she would need much help or not to bring down such a beast. Harry slowly got back to his feet, mindful of his left arm and shoulder.

"So, is the feast still on? I'm famished after that." Harry had stated far too cheerfully, with a cheeky smile adorning his dirt-covered face. His last conscious memory was of a bushy-brown mop of hair invading his face, arms encircling him in an embrace about his shoulders, and blinding hot pain in one of said shoulders.

Waking the next morning to the white ceiling of the infirmary, Harry was momentarily confused before it all rushed back. His shoulder felt fine now, and the first thought in his head had been about how Hermione reacted to basically knocking him out from a hug.

'Not too badly, I hope...' Harry said to himself mentally, cringing internally encase she did take it badly, he didn't want things to be awkward between them, she seemed nice and level-headed, if a bit bookish. Being bookish wasn't a bad thing; it was just that Harry learned more by doing than by reading. He fumbled on the bedside locker for his glasses and got them on his face just as Madam Pomfrey exited her office, looking at him specifically and motioning for him to stay silent. Harry looked about in confusion; he didn't think anybody else would be in here with him. His eyes fell on the bushy-haired brunette tucked into the bed to his immediate right, sleeping quietly. He smiled softly; a slight redness tinted his cheeks thinking that she stayed there all night to make sure he was okay. The Nurse smiled conspiratorially at him, and winked, mouthing 'All Night' to him cheekily. Harry blushed brightly at her implication, silently pleased she was that concerned for him.

Harry woke Hermione shortly afterwards, seeing it was time for breakfast by the clock on the wall for patients unable, or too young, to perform the Tempus charm. She sleepily rubbed at her eyes and gave a cute yawn 'Cute?! No way did I just think cute! The potions must not have worn off yet.' before fixing her gaze on him. Instantly, Harry smiled brightly and beckoned her to get ready.

"Come on, slow poke! Breakfast has already started, if we don't get there soon, Ron may well eat the lot!" Harry's attempt at levity, to brush off the previous night, obviously worked as Hermione smiled back at him just as brightly even if there were tears in her eyes at the same time. She nodded enthusiastically, sniffed a bit and wiped her eyes; her smile not faltering before latching on to him for a quick hug, and swung herself from the bed. They forever fondly referred to that night as 'The Troll Incident', and few knew the whole story, only that Harry and Hermione first became friends after Harry saved her from a troll. He had received a one hundred point penalty for leaving in search of a missing student without a teacher, and a one hundred point reward for his bravery publicly by Dumbledore that evening. Professor McGonagall could barely keep the smile from her face as she berated him, many times referring to him as 'just like his father', which, from Professor McGonagall, he considered high praise.

#####

Future Harry felt himself snapped out of his recollections in the main entryway by an incredible cold shiver travelling the length of his spine. He froze in place, screwed his eyes shut, and slowly waited for Mount Hermione to explode. When silence greeted him, he knew he was in even more trouble than he thought. His eyes peeked open; he slowly turned in place, while unconsciously hunching his shoulders to protect himself more. By the time he completed his 180 degree turn, he was sweating bullets. He saw a group of colourfully robed people in front of him, none looked pleased.

Neville wore fine black robes, signifying his station as Lord Longbottom. The females on his left and right, Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones respectively, had dark green and white robes, signifying apprentice healers. The teachers present, McGonagall, Flitwick, Lupin, Sprout, were dressed in fitting attire for the Headmistress and Deputy Headmaster, and Professors of Hogwarts. Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye wore fine black robes with a yellow sash, representing a Sorcerer, the highest rank achievable in the new hierarchy. The rest of his friends, the two youngest Weasleys, his bushy-haired friend, Daphne Greengrass, Padma Patil, and Luna Lovegood, wore the normal uniformed attire of the Light's soldiers. Ron and Padma wore sashes of purple for tacticians, and Luna wore a pure white sash to show her abilities as a Seer. Hermione's electric blue sash drew the most of his attention; however Daphne's crimson one did an admirable job too.

Neville greeted him with a sad frown, clearly disappointed in his inability to even let them know he was alive and well. Luna Lovegood's normal dreamy smile was replaced by a clearly concerned look, wrinkling her normally smooth forehead. Ginny Weasley stood to the side of the group, red-eyed from crying, and she looked ready to burst into tears at any moment. Ron looked half-mad, half-annoyed. Probably because he was missing dinner, and had to listen to the girls worry about him all week. He was definitely in a sulking mood it seemed, just great.

Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott were both relieved to see him, yet just as disappointed as Neville it seems, and both were siding with Neville in all of this and had stood to his immediate left and right. Padma Patil, one of the best strategists in the castle, above even Ron and Hermione, gave him a look that just screamed 'I told you so!' She had told him quietly before he left that he wouldn't be back within a week, and should plan to be gone longer, make sure everyone knew he may not be back for such a length of time. He had dismissed the notion, as he probably wouldn't be allowed to leave if he had said he would be gone longer than a week. He barely got permission from the Council as it was; his vague description of 'Going to a safe-house to retrieve a strategic advantage' didn't endear him to any of his peers.

A recently appointed Battle-Mage, Daphne Greengrass stood closer to the middle of the group. She looked relieved, yet obviously she had been worried greatly, he had never seen her look this troubled. He had tutored her directly for some subjects, she had an unnatural affinity for fire spells it seemed, even the malicious Fiendfyre bent to her will without much of a fight. Her recent appointment to such a high rank was by her own merits, however, she ranked just below Sorcerer in station, and Daphne and Harry kept a close friendship, siblings in battle and all that jazz. Not as close as he and Hermione, but closer than most none-the-less, on par with Luna and a few others in his mind.

Luna, in her uniform and white sash, looked particularly worried and confused, though it looked like she wasn't upset with him. Her skill as a Seer had improved in leaps and bounds since the war began. It was theorised that it had to do with the new magic-soaked atmosphere, but whatever the reason, Luna was a much better Seer now. She likely already knew that he was fine, she likely even knew that he would take two weeks to come back. Her look of confusion had him worried though; she also had a perceptive look on her face as if she was trying to interrogate him just using her eyes. With intellect on par with Hermione, he hoped she wouldn't see through any of his mistruths today.

Hermione. Sweet Merlin, did she look angry. She was well beyond pissed, into full-meltdown territory. A slight red-tint around her eyelids told her she had shed a few tears thinking about him, which startled him more than anything else in the room, because Hermione was possibly the strongest person he knew nowadays. She barely cried when she sent her parents away to Australia, possibly for good, and the last time he saw her cry at all was when Fred Weasley was killed, and that was years ago.

The group was flanked by the teachers in the school. Headmistress McGonagall, along with Deputy Headmaster Flitwick stood at the fore of the group, with Professor Pomona Sprout, Sorcerer Alastor Moody, Professor Remus Lupin, and Sorcerer Shacklebolt behind them. None looked happy either; however he saw a twinkle of amusement from Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a full smirk from Mad-eye. Harry gathered his courage, locked eyes with Hermione, and strode swiftly towards his fate, only to be interrupted by a yell from Hermione.

"Harry James Potter! What have you been doing that takes two full weeks!" Harry was startled by her volume and jumped, much to the apparent amusement of Minerva McGonagall, whose shoulders began to shake as she placed her hand on her lips and looked at the floor, trying not to give away her laughter by attempting to pass it off as a coughing fit. Moony seemed amused too, he had said multiple times that Hermione and himself interact in much the same way James and Lily had at their age. Flitwick didn't even try to hide how humorous he found the situation, quietly chuckling off to the side. A quick glance around would have seen many chuckling individuals from the higher years in the school, trying to be quiet encase Hermione's ire turned on them instead.

"U-Uh...Uh...W-Well y'see..." Was Harry's intelligent response. Lord or not, Harry's training was non-existent for these situations, no matter how often he found himself in them.

"Well?" Hermione asked, irritated and still pissed at him. 'For Merlin's sake!' she thought 'He hasn't even come up with a good lie!'

"W-Well it just took longer than I thought, had to be extra careful not to be caught, place was teeming with Death Eater patrols." Harry said light-heartedly, nervously running the gauntlet through his hair; however it was the wrong thing to say.

"What?" said asked lowly, eyes narrowing at him a tiny bit, as he saw light blue sparks form very gently at her finger tips.

"N-Now 'Mione, don't be mad, I'm fine! I didn't run into any trouble, and I haven't a scratch on me!" Harry placated her nervously, taking a small step back that was instantly noticed by Hermione.

"Harry Potter! Stop lying to me this instant!" was her dangerous reply.

"Honest! No trouble just had to be careful is all!" He tried to calm her as she slowly matched his every back-step with a step towards him, her hands forming more sparks as she made her way to him.

"Then tell me why you look so nervous." Hermione demanded of him, her advance stopped momentarily, only five feet in front of him, well within arm's reach if she took a quick step forward, which he was afraid of.

"W-Well I may have...Apparated...back...to...safety...again..."He replied, with each pause getting softer and quieter until the group had to concentrate intently just to hear him. While the rest of the group had confusion on their faces, the collective thought being 'Well duh! How else would he get out of England?!'

Hermione's eyes instead widened and her mouth dropped open. Her suddenly glowing hand struck his right cheek before he had a chance to blink. This had happened on a few occasions, but never this violently. It was much to his embarrassment that a red-purple hand-print would be left on his face for the better part of a week, as Madam Pomfrey refuse to heal it, dismissing it as 'A wound from a lover's quarrel' and how it had nothing to do with her, she thought he deserved it anyway.

"Harry James Potter!"Hermione yelled down at him from his position on the floor due to her slap. His surprise at the event led him to dismiss the absence of pain from the slap as shock. He was sure he would feel it later. The group behind were even more confused now, and not a little concerned by her violence.

"Hermione!" Neville admonished her. "What's wrong with him Apparating back to Scotland? You know all the safe houses are secure; he would have been fine with the trip back. That was probably why he took so long too. Was there really a need to be like that?" Neville spoke as he approached to help Harry up and simultaneously calm Hermione down. He was referring to the safe houses specifically set up to travel the length of the country secretly. While they were a bit spread apart for Apparition for even the super-powered wizards of today without the help of wards, there were several reusable Portkeys in each safe house to get you to the next one. Many people didn't trust the safe houses though. Even though only the finest Cursebreakers and Wardsmiths were used to set them up, people felt unsafe travelling that far south. Voldemort still held sway over many of the population's fears.

"No Neville, it isn't safe. Not even remotely safe. I'm honestly appalled at this Harry!" She growled angrily, hands on hips, as she glared down at him. Harry didn't even attempt to move, scared of angering her further, and a little ashamed at his recklessness, and the worry he was likely putting Hermione through.

"Oh come on Hermione, you've been in those houses, they are perfectly safe. I wouldn't be surprised, though, if Harry managed to beat the last record back." Neville smirked; having caught on to what Hermione thought was so dangerous. "So Harry, how many did it take? Did you just beat thirty? We can finally take Finch-Fletchley down off the wall for his thirty straight apparitions if you did." Neville said good-naturedly, trying to lighten the mood as he helped Harry get back to his feet, still under the scrutiny of the Bushy-Haired Demoness in front of him. "You must have led those Death Eater response teams on a wild goose chase if you did" He chuckled.

The rest of the group were looking on as Neville clapped Harry on the back after helping him stand and regain his balance, and the growing audience now looked particularly interested. They had stayed quiet during Hermione's tirade to Harry, lest she focus any of her displeasure on them. She could easily make any of their lives hell, as evidenced by her treatment of the young Lord Sorcerer Harry Potter, technically the highest ranking noble in the castle.

"Yes Harry, please do tell them how many times you Apparated to get back to Scotland" Hermione said, far too sweetly, with a malicious look in her eye as she smiled at him serenely, a complete turnabout from her previous behaviour. Harry began to sweat a bit, the group looked on interested, he knew he couldn't lie about it; Hermione would give him a matching cheek if he did. The rest looked on expectantly, somehow missing the fact that the wizard's cheeks were missing any sign of a slap, let alone a supercharged one.

"One" was all he could get out weakly as he yet again ran his gauntleted arm through his messy hair, a nervous smile on his face. Neville instantly took his answer incorrectly.

"Blimey Harry! There are only twenty three safe houses between North Wales and Scotland! Well done on getting it done on one per house, some of those are easily thirty miles apart." Neville said, thoroughly impressed Harry Apparated such long distances in a short amount of time without E-Z-Apparition wards in place. E-Z-Apparition wards allowed easier travel between similarly warded areas, enabling people to Apparate across the country to get to work without using a large amount of magic. The Ministry had these set up all around the country for witches and wizards to use to travel. They reduced the magic needed to Apparate long-distance by huge amounts, but they couldn't be used any longer. If they were, Death Eaters could Apparate right into them, wherever they were, if they managed to set up a similar ward.

The rest looked on impressed, Ron more interested because now Finch-Fletchley would stop talking about the damn record all the time. Luna and Daphne looked troubled, something about the way Harry said 'One' didn't bode well with them.

"No, Neville, Harry doesn't mean 'One Apparition between each safe house', what Harry means is 'One Apparition' total to get back to Wales id imagine." Hermione ground out lowly, all sweetness gone in the face of what Harry had done. The other looked on gob-smacked. People listening in began talking excitedly. Neville was shell-shocked to say the least.

"Y-You Apparated... Over one hundred miles? At Once?! What the hell were you thinking?!" Neville started off amazed, but ended up shouting angrily by the end. He looked livid, but Hermione was beginning to tear up in front of him so he pulled her into a one sided embrace as she buried her face in his chest. Ron scowled in the background. Hermione gathered herself quickly, and pulled away from Harry.

"Harry, that's twice that this has happened. Why would you be so reckless, we need you to win this war!" Hermione asked him, knowing there was no real answer, sounding sad all the same. Daphne looked on upset; Luna's brow was still furrowed, as if she were not convinced of something.

"Miss Granger you knew he could Apparate over one hundred before?! When was this and why weren't we told?" asked an almost breathless Minerva McGonagall. Age and war was catching up with her, she now looked a lot older than her actual age.

"Remember the Recon squad we lost right after New Years in '02? I was leading; we ran into about 60 Death Eaters, surrounded us quickly and took out the other nine with me. They each gave as good as they got though, took out 30 men before it was just me. I managed another twenty before backup arrived. The Lestrange brothers, a Carrow and a FitzBlack." The others and the surrounding audience collectively paled as they hadn't heard of this. Failed missions were kept quiet and respectful, it was bad for morale otherwise. Still, they didn't know Harry was there.

"I managed to push everything into an Apparition, at the time I was close to one hundred miles south of here, I ended up twenty miles north in a lake." Harry finished with a chuckle. "I took one of my Pepper-Ups and Apparated to the gate, damn guards got a right laugh at me, didn't even check my signature!" He said indignant. "The guards thought no-one except the real Lord Sorcerer Potter would show up soaked and shivering on a January morning." Harry grumbled. This got a few laughs out of the group, a dark scowl from Ron, and an even deeper furrow of the brows from Luna. She had come to a conclusion she didn't like.

"You're lying" Luna called out firmly. The others stopped and gave her a look, Daphne and Hermione concerned, the Weasley duo dismissive, and the staff intrigued. They had learned, bar the two Weasleys, that when Luna said something so seriously, she was rarely wrong. Attention turned back to Harry as he looked surprised and nervous. He attempted to school his facial features, but a narrowing of the eyes from Hermione and Daphne stopped him dead. He was caught.

"You're right, Luna, I'm sorry" Harry said, resigned to his death already. Ron looked positively ecstatic if anything, this meant Harry was going to be the one complained about for a week or two. He could finally relax a bit. The others looked on sceptically. Moody looked solemn, already guessing what he would say. While his strength was amazing, his recklessness was too.

Moody hadn't been that surprised the boy could manage over one hundred miles at full strength, he had seen how strong he was before this war started. If he was correct, then the boy would need a stern reprimand to remind him how vital he was to their cause. The other staff members looked on in trepidation. The others were waiting before they sorted their emotions on this mess. All of them were glad to have Harry home but the implications brought by all these discoveries were far too large to deal with all at once.

"I Apparated from Hogsmeade to the last safe house, the one in Chester, two weeks ago. About two hundred and ninety miles. I walked for two weeks into what were London and Diagon Alley. Then I Apparated back from there to about twenty miles south of here. Just about five hundred miles actually." He stated clearly. He barely got to look towards Neville before he found himself on the floor for the second time that day. This time, however, the absence of pain didn't escape his notice. And his right cheek should be on fire by now; Hermione wasn't gentle with her slap. The answer to his unspoken question came quickly, as Neville was not pleased with the outcome of his punch.

"Ughhhh..." Neville groaned as he cradled his fist. Harry sat up off the ground, and instantly came to a complicated answer. He had found out what his mothers ring does, however at the cost of having to explain it to all his friends apparently. As if he had just noticed, Harry glanced around at all of the shocked faces in the crowds of students and recruits. They had heard and seen what he could do, he was the Light's hero, he went on the most missions, carried the largest success rate, had the largest Death Eater mortality rate, and brought back the most survivors in every mission he went on. He never worried for spies in the ranks, and especially not among the children, but he did not need more hero-worship than he already got.

"Alright you lot, clear off to class, show is over." Harry said firmly. Responses of "Yes milord" or "Yes Sorcerer" were heard all around as the crowd dispersed either into the corridors or the Great Hall, leaving the group of young and old soldiers and teachers alone.

"Harry, what the hell was that?" Asked Neville while his hand was being treated by Hannah, an in-training Mediwitch, as Susan looked over her shoulder concerned. "It felt like I punched a brick wall mate. Plus you don't look bothered by it a bit." Neville stated, none too petulantly, he was rather proud of his physical prowess due to his chubby childhood. Harry quickly noticed Hermione favouring her right hand on her hip, while her left looked to be bruising. Harry was on his feet and fixing her hand before she could protest. While he was not a healer, he could definitely fix bruises and small cuts. Hermione's hand, however, looked like one giant, nasty, purple bruise.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione" he whispered to her as the bruising quickly cleared. Redness tinted her cheeks, and her eyes darted to the group, Luna and Daphne specifically, before looking back at him and nodding, not trusting her voice. A further, deeper scowl by the tall redhead male in the background went unnoticed.

"Alright, lovebirds, enough of that. Tell us what's going on Harry, why or how can you Apparate that far, and why or how can we not hurt you?" Neville asked, embarrassing the two before becoming more serious towards the end. Harry's mind whirred, finally coming to a conclusion he liked, not two seconds after Neville finished.

"We can talk more in my quarters; we will have more comfort and privacy. Besides, I need to change out of my travelling robes and gear before we have a long talk."

#####

And that's a wrap. The prologue ends here, its a bit all over the place with flashbacks and backstory packed in(probably too much of it to be honest) and it comes to close to 11,500 words. I may re-do all of this, at this moment in time I think it has a nice flow, but that could change next week. The next chapter shouldn't jump around as much and just focus on Harry and how he interacts with people. Still, I would like feedback on what you think of the story-line, the setting, the style I use, the characters so far(I also apologise for Hermione seeming like a cry-baby drama queen, everyone has moments like that its just I put a lot of them in this chapter, she is just worried about losing Harry, her first friend) and while I may bash Ron a small bit, that will stop eventually. My favourite books are PoA, GoF, and HBP and Ron acts like a bit of a prat in all of these, so that influences my views on him a lot.

Pairings! You will all ask me what pairings I have decided on, and all I can tell you is NOT Harry/Ginny. I don't mind those stories, I just don't want to go that direction. Will this be Harry/Multi? Maybe. Not sure. I will write this in such a way to leave many options open. Will there be more glimpses into AU!Harry's past? Definitely! Not as many as this chapter, but I just wanted to show that Neville and Hermione are some of his closest advisors, as well as Ron, though that may change soon(cue ominous thunder) possibly even next chapter!

ETA on next chapter - 30 days(This could change based on my exams)

Now then, please Review/Fave/Follow/Whatever so that I feel accomplished!

Till next time. - TheMason