Fallen Hero's Rise

By Ammie Hawk

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or Harry Potter.

AN: Okay, this fic was adopted from SC Round Robins, I am doing this with the permission of the other authors who have contributed to this fic. Anyone who has read this fic... I am adding things here and there because, well, I'm probably taking it in a direction that the others probably didn't intend. This is the second fic I've adopted from there and probably the last... Anyway, let's get this moving.

Prologue

Harry sat before the Wizengamot, full court. He was briefly reminded of his fifth year, but there were distinct differences this time around. This time he was chained to the chair in the center of the room, with little to no ability to see those assembled around him, and there was no Dumbledore to save him. He had also been silenced hours ago, trying to plead his case, and he was now forced to listen as they debated what would become of him.

"He belongs in Azkaban!" someone on his left stated loudly. "He is a murderer."

"He only murdered a Dark Lord," another across the room to his right countered, "why torment him? Send him to the mind-healers."

Another behind him scoffed, "They aren't nearly secure enough. He is dangerous. We can't risk him escaping."

"Azkaban isn't very secure either," someone farther left argued. "We still don't know how Black escaped. He should be given the Kiss."

"The Kiss?" A sensible voice to his immediate left said incredulously. "The public would go mad. He is a bit of a hero."

"Hero or not his power is dangerous," the first voice sounded frustrated. "He came back from the dead! That's necromancy. Darkest magic there is. Who knows if that's how he seemed to survive before? We don't need another immortal Dark Lord. Kill him and destroy his body!"

Harry flinched and shivered, this wasn't going to end well.

"We just said we can't kill him," the sensible voice sighed. "But we do need to deal with the necromancy issue."

"The problem is his power, no?" the one at the farthest left questioned. "How can we contain him if we do not understand the power he holds? We should let the Department of Mysteries test him."

"That's all well and good," the person behind him scoffed again, "but how do we keep him secure while they experiment on him?"

"If the problem is his powers," an oily voice closer behind him than the last spoke out softly, "why not take them away?"

The room fell into silence, and Harry twisted in his seat to try and see the speaker, but it was impossible. Surely they couldn't just—take his magic?

"Strip him of his magic and send him to the Colonies to be certain he never regains them," the voice sounded sickeningly persuasive. "There is no magic in space. Bind his powers so that no one else can be harmed."

"But that's... terrible," the second voice sounded shocked.

"Isn't necromancy terrible?" the owner of the first voice seemed quite pleased with the idea. "I say it sounds like an excellent idea!"

"It could set precedence."

"Tie the punishment to the necromancy charge," the sensible one said slowly. "It's not like any sane person will touch that art."

"Could be dangerous," the one on his far right spoke up again. "Who would perform the ceremony?"

"Not I!" almost the entire room chorused.

"Of course it doesn't have to be one of us," the scoffer snarled. "Get an Unspeakable to do it."

"Yes," the far left one agreed. "The Unspeakables could do it. Bind his powers!"

Several cries broke out at this proclamation, almost drowning each other out in their verocity.

"Banish him!"

"Strip him of his magic before he hurts an innocent!"

"Prevent another Dark Lord!"

"Shall we call a vote?" the oily voice spoke up again when the din had finally settled.

Harry trembled, begging uselessly as the court called his punishment to vote, 'No, no, no. Please not my magic. Please, no. I'll be good!' His throat was raw, but no sound came out as tears streaked down his face. The vote was cast and Harry slumped as they passed it, almost unanimously, his voice still working uselessly, 'No, no, no, please. Take it back! Please no! Please!'

8888888

The Unspeakable looked over the teenager on the table. Harry Potter had been brought to him, drugged into unconsciousness, his eyes still puffy and red. The Aurors who brought him in had handed the Chief a simple slip of paper, and they were left with an unconscious boy and orders that made the two man team tremble.

"We really have to bind his magic?" Unspeakable F489 clenched his fists in anger. "He's a hero. Not to mention he's still a child."

"I know," his Chief answered, "but we have our orders and we have sworn our oaths to this Ministry. There is nothing we can do but try and make this as easy on him as we can."

"How?"

"His mind and body are both tied to his magic," the older man sighed. "We can ease the transition so that they will not be damaged in the process. We can smooth it out so that this does not break him. We can give him a chance to live."

"It's not much, is it?" the junior Unspeakable sighed. "I hate this job sometimes."

The Chief nodded in silent agreement, "Let's get started."

They stripped the teen of his clothing and prepared the table with the supplies they would need before closing themselves in a salt circle and setting a ward. Tediously they began etching runes on the pale skin with black paste. Occasionally F489 paused to consult with the Chief about a particular rune combination, slowly altering the spell. Twice they had to erase entire sections because of an error, cleansing the area carefully before rewriting the runes. They worked together, weaving the hundreds of tiny symbols into a pattern for the rite they had prepared.

Twelve hours after they had begun, the teen started to stir. The Unspeakables finished the last of the runes quickly, so they could reach the next step by the time the boy fully woke. The Chief spoke a simple purification charm, and the teen woke with a small gasp.

"Please, do not move child. We are at a delicate stage right now, one wrong move could kill both you and us," the Chief spoke his warning before the other could do more than blink. "I am sorry, but you must be awake for this part. Any outside influence of spells, potions, or even Muggle drugs could alter the spell and do damage. Please do not make noise or move until I say, I do not wish you any harm."

F489 watched as those green eyes blinked back tears and the teen lay still on the table. Then he began to chant, lifting his wand and beginning the intricate motions necessary for the ritual. He heard the Chief take up his portion of the spell before he focused his entire concentration on the ritual and the boy before him.

Slowly, each string of runes began to light up, glowing softly against the pale flesh. He felt the strain on his magic as he neared the end of his task and forced his hand to remain steady as his lines finished. He listened to the Chief finish his lines and then there was a very pregnant pause. F489 took a long look at the Savior of the Wizarding World, wrapped in runes glowing like Christmas lights, before speaking in tandem with the Chief, "So mote it be."

The teen gasped at the same instant the runes stopped glowing, before he bit his lip harshly and his skin broke out in a cold sweat. The Chief looked puzzled for a moment at the lack of further reaction, then his eyes went wide.

"It's alright Little One, the danger has now passed."

As if by magic, Harry began screaming, wrapping his arms around himself and sobbing his heart out. His entire body shook as he gasped for breath.

"Please, no. Give it back! Please! No, no, no! Oh God! It's so empty! Please!"

The Chief climbed on the table and lifted the teen, placing a blanket around his thin shoulders as he whispered reassurances. F489 stepped closer, offering his own words of comfort to the child who had been so betrayed.

8888888

Harry looked in the mirror, studying himself. His raven hair was still soaked from the shower he had just taken, but he let it drip rather then dry it. His green eyes still looked red and puffy, but they were now glasses free, apparently, a side effect of the binding. His throat was circled in a collar like chain of black runes, a permanent reminder tattooed on his very skin. His right wrist was circled in a similar chain, but these were a dark wine red. His left wrist had a set of forest green ones. Circling his waist was a thinner band of runes that started at his belly button, wrapped once around him and ended just shy of the hair at his groin. He flushed pink at the thought of the Unspeakables painting that particular band on his body.

None of the other runes remained, which was a small relief. He'd scrubbed a black substance from his face, arms, chest, and legs. If all the runes had left a mark, he'd be a walking freak show. He shook his head and wrapped the towel around his waist before heading back out to the main room.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," the elder of the two Unspeakables greeted him kindly. "Feeling any better?"

"I feel empty," Harry wrapped his arms around his bare chest as his voice broke.

"I am so sorry, child," the Unspeakable led him to a small office and handed him a paper bag with his name on it. "Get dressed, and I'll explain."

Harry opened the bag and found the clothes he was wearing when the Aurors had picked him up. A pair of blue cotton pajamas. He blinked at the bag for a moment before slowly pulling them out and slipping into them. He then crushed the paper and threw it away, fighting nausea as his emotions raged. A knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts, and he left the room.

"Now, I am certain you are more than aware of your sentence, but I want to go over the details with you. First, your magic has been bound," he paused as Harry made a small choking noise. "Your magic was bound, but not taken. You cannot actively use magic, but we did what we could to allow you to handle magic internally. Magic speeds healing, as I'm sure you've experienced before, and so I am sure that will be one way your magic aids you. Your eyesight is an example of this. With no other outlet, I'm sure your magic will aid you internally as best it can. Your magic cannot be used externally, as I already stated. That is, you will not be able to cast spells or use magic against others or even in defense."

He paused again to squeeze the teen's shoulder. "The other half of your punishment is banishment. Now, this is where you got truly lucky. The court agreed to give you over to the Preventers, a Muggle law enforcement agency, and have you sent into space in their custody. The lucky part in all of this is that they left the length and location of your exile up to the Preventers. With a bit of good behavior, they may allow you to return to Earth in the future.

"Keep your chin up, Little One. It is horrible what we have done to you, I know. But try and make a new start. Live like a normal teen for a while. You deserve it. You'll still have access to your Gringotts account. If I were you, I'd owl them before you leave for space. They deal with Muggleborns so they have outlets in the Muggle world. You can get a debit card that will do the exchanges. Try not to let this ruin your life."

"But it already has," Harry's voice was soft and helpless. "I don't have anything left. I don't know anything but this world. Being a wizard was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Oh, child," the Unspeakable swept him into an embrace, ignoring the protest of adulthood.

8888888

Lady Anne Une stared down at the folder in front of her, a frown marring her already stern countenance. What were these people thinking? Where they really stupid enough to turn their backs on their hero? A child hero at that? Oh, for the love of all things gundanium, this was worse than the colonies during the war, they at least realized their mistake in the end.

She closed the file in front of her and leaned back in her chair, thinking. So, the Wizarding world wanted to bind Harry Potter's magic, did they? And send him into space? Well, she wasn't really in a position to argue.

What would their reasons be for sending the boy away, though? They were already taking away what, to any decent wizard, was considered their very life. He'd be exiled in any Wizarding community, seen as worse than a squib. That's why most squibs, like herself, moved away from the Wizarding world and chose to live as Muggles. She thought they were actually doing him a favor by sending him away.

So, what did Earth have that the colonies didn't? That was the only thing she could even imagine being behind their reasoning. Hmm, well, the colonies didn't have the excess ambient magic that the Sphere did, being artificial they didn't support magic as well. That had to be it. It was the only thing she could think of.

Then it hit her. Those stupid, idiotic, bigoted bastards thought that they were better than anyone else. They saw space as a dead zone for magic. They were trying to break the boy even more than they already had. But as usual, they were so narrow minded that they didn't even know what they were dealing with.

Just because magic wasn't as abundant in space as it was on the Sphere didn't mean it wasn't there. She knew for a fact that it was, having spent substantial amounts of time there. Just because she couldn't wield magic didn't mean she couldn't feel when it was present.

Okay then, what to do with the information she now had at her disposal. The Wizarding world wanted their savior gone and off their hands. So they had handed him over to her to dispose of, most likely so their hands weren't soiled with his death.

She tapped her fingers together as a maniacal grin spread across her face. Oh, she was more than willing to take the boy off their hands. In fact, she was even willing to send him up into space. But who said anything about her having to send him one of the Lagrange point colonies? No, she'd send him to one of her best, no, not hers, Treize's best officer, to be trained.

She would send the boy to Zechs Merquise. He wouldn't be able to deny her request, not if she played her cards right. And with Harry Potter on Mars, who knows? Just because the Red Planet didn't have the same ambient magic that Earth did, didn't mean it didn't have any.

She didn't know what kind of binding they used on the Boy-Who-Lived, but she did know that they feared keeping him on the Sphere. If there was a chance the binding could break, she'd put him in a place where he could do something with it if it did. And if it didn't break, she'd still have another potential agent at her disposal, one who knew of both worlds.

The smile on her face turned just a fraction of a bit more devious. Oh yes, she could use this to her advantage. Welcome, Harry Potter, to your new life.

Ammie: Okay, so there it is, the first chapter. Originally written by Dragonzanfire and yours truly. Hope ya'll enjoy and let me know what you think.