Usual Disclaimer, author's note at the bottom:

For the third time in what seemed like a very short amount of time, Harry pushed himself into wakefulness. His mind raced trying to sort all of the conflicting ideas in his head. There was a secret government agency that had kidnapped him-although he would have come willingly if he had been physically capable of doing so. They were healing him, he noted that his body barely protested as he shifted into a seated position. They knew about the prophecy. The top-secret prophecy. The so top secret even he wasn't supposed to know about it, even though it was about him.

Harry started reassessing his opinion of these people from merely helpful and powerful to kick-arse.

"Take this," Harry saw the potion shoved under his nose, and turned to see Althea bustling at his bedside. Now that he looked closer he could see a series of machines, similar to those in a muggle hospital, pulsing next to him. Thea followed his line of sight and nodded. "Well, you're alive. Congratulations."

"Thank you?" He answered hesitantly, unsure about whether or not she was joking. She gave him a small smile, gestured again to the potion and then bustled off. Harry wondered if that was the approved motion for nurses and doctors-bustling. He had never seen anyone else do it, except maybe Mrs. Weasley in full on mothering mode.

Harry drank the potion and sat, contemplating the room. Or, the parts of the room he could see. The machines to his left continued to pulse different colors, but he couldn't begin to decipher their various meanings. Along the far wall, a great distance away, he saw the same floating liquids, arranged in different shapes at different levels, in what he would assume were bottles on shelves. There was a door across from him, that Thea had entered and exited through. Harry assumed that he could see it because of the wards, and the door handle several feet down because of the locking spell. The door handle was in some ways more disconcerting than the floating liquids because it was a single object surrounded by pitch blackness.

Harry continued his scan. Nothing, nothing, nothing. It was surprising. He expected the room, the Hospital wing, to more magic infused. Nothing. Oh!

A man was sitting directly to his right. He was tall, his long legs were folded under him and stuck out like a stork's, with curly hair and wide eyes surrounded by laugh lines. Harry wasn't sure if he was sitting on another bed or a chair, that type of pose didn't seem possible. When he noticed Harry looking at him he smiled.

"I'm Damyon," he said, pronouncing it like Damien. "I'm one of the trainers here."

"Harry," Harry responded. "What do you mean, train?"

"People join the Agency fairly young, usually around ten or eleven. Sometimes even earlier if they have a reason. We're kind of a band of misfits, and we take in whoever needs it. Because we're primarily a government outpost, we need everyone to specialize in something that will help meet our mission statements. That means, in addition to regular school, students learn muggle and magical combat styles, politics and espionage, trans-dimensional theories, or anything else we find useful at the time. I train the older ones in explosives." As he said this last statement, his grin took on a sharper edge.

"Damyon takes a little too much pleasure in blowing shit up." Lexi's voice chimed in. Harry's rescuer joined the taller man on what Harry determined must be a bed. "Don't let the yoga pose fool you." She added. Damyon made no move to deny the allegations. Studying the two of them together, Harry realized how much older Damyon was then he first appeared. While Lexi couldn't be more than three or four years older than Harry himself, Damyon might be anywhere from 35 to 40. His exuberant attitude made him seem much younger.

Like she had earlier, Lexi seemed to follow his train of thought. "Once we've trained that mage-sight of yours up a bit, you'll be able to see the grey in his hair. In the mean time, you should know he counts his birthdays backwards now."

Harry frowned. How did she do that? The question led to other, bigger questions. What was he doing here?

"Ask." Lexi said.

"What am I doing here?" He responded. Then rushed on, "Not that I'm not grateful and everything, but I don't know why you're bothering with me. Why I'm meeting all these people and you're telling me about this top secret government agency like it doesn't mean anything."

"I told you about our job, do you remember?"

"Yeah," Harry furrowed his brow, remembering their previous conversation, "stuff from other dimensions."

"Well," here Lexi took a deep breath, as if about to impart some sort of huge secret. It was unusual, because everything else had shared had been so matter-of-fact. "Technically, magic originates from another dimension. Witches and Wizards are not native to this 'verse. So you, as not only a wizard, but a prophesied one, fall under our jurisdiction."

"Plus, we have a tendency to pick up strays with extraordinary abilities." Damyon added. "I told you we were a band of misfits. You have the ability to great things, Harry Potter, and we can help you do them."

Harry stared, unable to process. Magic was an accident from another dimension? He was extraordinary? He had never quite believed that, even after five years of being the Boy Who Lived, he still saw himself as a freak. Not someone worth taking the time for. Lexi caught his eye and he looked away at her knowing look.

"We all start like that," she said. "But different doesn't necessarily mean bad. If we don't teach you anything else, we hope to teach you that."

"But we will teach you other stuff." Damyon added. Lexi glared at him and he raised his hands in mock surrender. "What? The kid needs to learn how to defend himself. And everyone loves learning how to rig a bomb to bus like in speed. It's a practical skill."

Lexi rolled her eyes. "C'mon, let's go before Thea comes back and makes you stay another night for observation. I'll show you your room and we'll plan a schedule to get you started."

Harry followed Lexi's shape and promptly tripped over a bed. She turned and, realizing her mistake, grinned apologetically. She then held out her hand and led him, arm and arm, out of the Hospital.

A/N: A huge thank you to anyone who is resuming this story from many years ago, and a welcome to those of you just starting up. I'm hoping that this will be more regular. I welcome all feedback, positive or negative and will try to take suggestions into consideration.

The usual contest about the names applies, Damyon being the new character this chapter.