My very first Harry Potter story! This will have elements common to many Super-Harry stories, but I'd like to think there are elements which will be unique as well. On with the show!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Harry Potter was laid out flat on his bed at Number 4, Privet Drive; his mind drowning beneath the pervasive misery borne out of his last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. An entire school year chalk full of smearing, hostility, and outright torture culminating in the death of his beloved godfather Sirius Black were weighing down on him relentlessly. Not to mention learning of the prophecy linking him to Voldemort…. His stomach was empty, yet he had no appetite. His body was tired, but sleep meant dreams, and dreams meant reliving death and torture and even experiencing some that hadn't happened. Not that remaining awake was a vast improvement….

Harry wondered to himself how much more he could take. Given everything that had happened to him since the first time Voldemort had attacked him at the age of one, he had a high tolerance for pain, both physical and emotional, but the valve holding that pain was full to bursting. He felt so tired, so worn, and he just didn't know what to do.

The thought sounded somewhat childishly simplistic, but it kept recurring in his mind. I just want to feel better. Harry longed for a break from the misery and heartbreak, or at least a let up. He wanted someone to lift some of the burden off his shoulders. He wanted something that could ease the pain even the tiniest bit, both for the relief and to provide so much as the slimmest hope that maybe someday it would ease further, something he was sorely lacking at the moment.

The idea of talking to his relatives was laughable, more likely to earn him a broken bone than any emotional support. He thought about writing to one of his friends, but he knew that would be a futile exercise. His best mate Ronald Weasley was good at plenty of things, but emotional comfort wasn't one of them. The letters he'd received from him since the beginning of the summer had carefully avoided any topics of true significance. His other best Hermione Granger was a bit more sensitive, but her constant stream of urges to talk to her interspersed with tips very clearly straight out of some random books on psychology and grief were grating and pressuring, something Harry very much did not need any more of right now. The only person who'd been a comfort, a reassurance a voice that knew the right thing to say was Sirius. Sirius…

He scoured his memories for anyone else he could think of to write to for comfort, but he kept coming up short. Remus seemed like the kind of person who could do it, but Harry was sure he was dealing with his own grief over the loss of his best friend, almost a brother to him, and Harry didn't want to pile up his own grief on top of that. Not to mention the small consideration of it having been Harry's faulty in the first place that Sirius died, so Harry couldn't imagine that Lupin would want to hear from him.

His mind flashed back to a conversation at the end of term with his relatively new friend Luna Lovegood which had helped a bit, but Harry felt that the comfort there had been through a mutual comprehension of the concept of people dying, not something he believed would particularly help right now. Dumbledore was out of the question, as Harry was still reeling from his last conversation with his headmaster which had enlightened him of his destiny to battle Voldemort to the death. Not to mention he was still unsure just how much of his trust for the headmaster remained after all that had been revealed on that occasion. Harry sighed. His past was not replete with many examples of someone helping him through heartbreak. The biggest example he'd ever had would've been when he talked to Sirius and Remus about the memories he'd seen of his father, but that was clearly unavailable. Wait a minute…

That last thought had brought another related memory into the front of his mind. A memory of sitting in the library brooding about wanting to speak with Sirius and Remus, but not being able to, when someone came up and rescued him from his moodiness. One person who noticed he was in pain and talked to him, even going so far as to provide a practical solution without demanding information. He remembered feeling better at the end of the conversation, even when that practical solution was nothing but a "maybe there is a solution." Feeling hopeful that he might be able to get what he needed. Feeling like the burden had lightened….

Harry sat up in excitement. Ginny. He'd become much closer with the youngest Weasley over the past year, once she'd become able to open up in his presence without impersonating a particularly ripe tomato. He thought about the various interactions they'd had over the past year. What if she wouldn't help? No, Ginny is too good a friend for that, she'll help if she can. What if that was a fluke? Harry pondered this for a moment before stumbling on another memory… Having become convinced that he was being possessed by Voldemort, Harry had withdrawn from his friends, feeling a need to protect them. The person who eventually snapped him out of his mood was that same little redhead, having had the insight that this was the time to tell him off, despite the towering temper he'd been in which had Ron and Hermione treating him like glass for much of the year. And thinking back on that conversation recalled how she'd done that. The chamber. Ginny had used her traumatic memories of being possessed to help him, despite how painful it must have been to dredge them up. Thinking back on the chamber, Harry wondered if maybe, just maybe, Ginny might understand, might grasp even a little bit the feeling of having been touched by the evil that was Voldemort. In any case, Harry now had two concrete examples of the young witch possessing a power that seemed as magical to him as anything he'd ever learned at Hogwarts, a power that he didn't understand, but which shone for him like a lighthouse through the fog on a stormy sea. The power to ease his burdens. He didn't know how she did it, or if she could do it consciously, but the longing for relief was so desperate that he had to at least try, no matter how awkward he might feel.

Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and settled down at his desk, trying to figure out how to phrase everything he wanted to say.

Dear Ginny,

How are you? I hope this is okay, I wasn't sure… I know we've never written each other before. How's your family? The… bird club members? Dean, you said you were dating him, didn't you? I really hope you don't mind this, there are just a few things I wanted to say to you.

First of all, I wanted to thank you for coming with me to the ministry. You don't know how much it means to me that you were willing to follow me into danger to rescue someone close to me. I really hope I'm not making you uncomfortable by bringing this up, but I imagine it would be much harder given what happened in your first year, for you to purposely go off expecting to face him.

I'm really glad I've gotten the chance to get to know you better this past year. You really are a wonderful friend. It's always meant a lot to me to have friends, particularly friends that would stand by me through things like everything that went on last year. I only wish I'd have gotten to know you sooner.

Now for the big thing I wanted to ask you. This is kind of awkward, and I don't really know how to phrase it, so please bear with me. And I'd really appreciate it if you don't say anything about this to anyone. All the questions that I've gotten, "Are you alright", "How are you", things like that. I always give the same answer. "I'm fine." I know you've noticed this, I've heard you complain about it. I suppose it's because I don't really know what else to say. In my experience, people caring about my well-being, about how I feel- well, it's not something I really know what to do with. I don't want to be a burden, and I truly apologize for burdening you. Please don't feel like you owe me anything. Feel free to completely ignore this. But I just… I needed some help. I had to ask. I'm not fine. Everything is crushing down on me. The last year, Umbridge, Dumbledore, nobody believing me, and Sirius. Sirius. I- I can't believe he's gone. I was just starting to get used to having his presence in my life, an adult who treated my interests as a priority. And now- I'm never going to get another letter from him. I'm never going to have to worry about him getting caught because he cares so much about me that I'm afraid he'll do something reckless. That wasn't fun, but it made me feel… cherished. Worthwhile. Loved. And now he's gone, and Voldemort's still after me, and everyone expects me to fight him, and… it's just too much.

This past year, I noticed sometimes that you were able to somehow know what I needed, know what to say and how to say it. You were able to lighten the pressure a bit. You… understood. I've never felt that before. Nobody has ever had that effect on me. I don't know how you do it, if you do it on purpose, if you can- say… anything. I just needed to ask, because I'm craving something, and you were the only hope I had. Please don't feel obligated or burdened, that's the last thing I want, and I have no right to ask for it. I just… I had to ask if you'd consider writing me back. If not, my friendship, my admiration, my gratitude for you… none of it will suffer.

Always your friend, whether you write back or not,

Harry

Harry read over his letter after signing his name. He noticed that there were points which seemed to be rambling or less put together than one would normally find in a written letter, but nothing too terrible, and he was feeling way too drained from this brief exposure of his feelings to consider copying it down again. Instead he rolled it up and went over to his faithful owl.

"Hedwig, can you please take this to Ginny? And if she decides to write back, wait for her reply?"

The gorgeous snowy owl chirped its acknowledgment and held out her leg. Harry tied on the letter, and she soared out the window. Feeling exhausted from how deeply he'd had to dig to write that letter, Harry resigned himself to another round of night terrors and sunk onto the bed. He was out in seconds.

Harry didn't know where he was. He was surrounded by light on all sides. The light was bright, and all one color, but he didn't know what to call the color, it was like trying to describe the afterimages from looking at a bright light. The only thing he was perfectly conscious of, was a man standing in front of him, holding him in a piercing gaze reminiscent of Dumbledore - a man he didn't know.

"Who are you?"

"Direct, and to the point. I like that."

"Yes, I am direct. Particularly when a man I've never seen crops up in a dream. Now, if you like directness so much, why don't you give me a direct answer?"

The man chuckled.

"Very right my boy, very right. I have many names, rendered into many tongues, remembered differently by different people. But the name I think you're most familiar with would be Merlin."

Harry stared for two seconds before giving a snort. "Right, and I'm the king of Atlantis."

"Actually the king of Atlantis was a good friend of mine by the name of…"

"Enough! I was being sarcastic. Who are you really? Is this another trick from Voldemort?"

"Oh no dear boy, you know that after he tried to possess you in the ministry of magic, he knows better than to try again for fear of experiencing the same excruciating pain."

"So then who are you- and how do you know about what happened in the ministry?"

"Very simple, Harry, I know because you do. I am a part of your mind."

"First you're Merlin, now you're part of my mind coming up as a man that looks nothing like me? Are you trying to be this transparent a liar?"

He chuckled again. "Yes I can see how that would sound confusing. Allow me to explain. A very long time ago, there was a man, considered by most to be the most powerful wizard that ever lived. He lived for many years and accomplished many feats, developing his powers most thoroughly. This was the man you know as Merlin. But in the very late stages of his life he was confronted with a situation. His children were being hunted by one of his old enemies, a man named Morvere. Morvere was never as powerful as Merlin, so Merlin was consistently able to defeat him. But Morvere knew Merlin would soon expire of old age, leaving his children as the only potential threats to him, so he set off to hunt them down before Merlin could teach them his skills.

Merlin knew of this, but he also knew that Morvere had too many men for him to combat in time. So he contrived to hide his children by creating new identities for them. This effort meant that he wasn't able to pass down all of his knowledge to all of his children, but all of his powers survived with at least one of them. But Merlin was confident that this would not be enough. He had seen many evils that arose in this world, and knew that it would be necessary some day for there to be someone who had all of his powers in order to combat evil, just as he had needed them all. He couldn't count on his children's descendants remaining close, and if he taught too much of his power to one of them Morvere would've recognized them for who they were while they were still too young and underdeveloped in raw power to be able to defeat him. So he struck upon a plan. He left a unique form of his memories in a special chest in his belongings, stating it was to be kept secure and only for his family's access. He then cast a charm on his children which buried within their bodies a small echo of his consciousness which would be passed down to all of his descendants. It would watch for one who needed these abilities and was powerful enough to handle them, as well as wise enough to be trusted with them. If and when I am that echo, and in light of the prophecy you were recently made aware of it is clear that you, young Harry, are the descendent to receive these powers."

Harry stood there, gobsmacked. He didn't know what to say. It all sounded too incredible to him, but he found himself incapable of disbelieving the man's story. It was as if it were a long forgotten memory rather than a new piece of information (which Harry realized, in one sense was accurate.)

"Are you saying this will… will… let me beat Voldemort? This is the "power he knows not", that will let me end him?"

"Good heavens, no."

Harry was starting to wonder if startled was going to become his default state. "It's not? Oh man… if even Merlin's power isn't enough to win a duel with Voldemort, how the heck am I supposed to do it!?"

"Harry, from your memories, particularly those from the graveyard and the fight in the ministry, I believe it will be enough to win a duel with him."

Now Harry was getting dizzy. "But you just said…"

Merlin cut him off. "Harry, the Avada Kedavra is the most efficient magical means of ending a life. The darker the magic behind it the more powerful the curse becomes. Voldemort is one of the darkest wizards in the history of the planet. If his own killing curse didn't kill him, what makes you think another will? No, Harry, this power will help immensely, but technically anyone else could theoretically do much of it. This is not that power."

"So then what is?"

"Honestly… I haven't a clue." Taking in the expression on his face, Merlin probably realized that Harry did not find this particularly reassuring. "It will help you hold the line and give you time to search for the power he knows not. It may also help you find it, I cannot know for sure."

Harry just stood there. His instincts were telling him this was on the level. But still, the idea that he could be meant for this- it was unreal. Harry couldn't wrap his mind around it.

The man- Merlin- sensed Harry's hesitation and spoke once again.

"I sense your hesitation, Harry. It is perfectly understandable, given the life you have lead up until now and the magnitude of what this means. But honestly in all of this life you've led, when have you ever been completely normal? Perhaps you will find this easier to swallow if you allow me to offer you a small bit of proof."

These words felt like a life raft to the drowning teen. "How?"

"I obviously do not have the ability to train you in a fraction of the powers that Merlin set aside for you. However, I was created with the ability to retrieve a memory from my consciousness to help you achieve one power, tailored to my evaluation of your personality, for precisely this purpose. Based on what I see, what would you say to becoming an Animagus?"

Harry's heart (such as it was in the dream world) began to beat faster. An Animagus! That would be… incredible! He could become a part of the Marauder's legacy! He could honor his father… he could honor Sirius. Of all the times to be given this opportunity, being given it now meant a great deal to him. "Okay," he whispered through trembling lips.

Merlin smiled. "Alright. I'll just use your magic to access your core so we can get an initial look at your form."

Harry perked up at this. "Wait, I thought a special potion was needed to do that?"

"Pfah, that potion's bubkiss" I bet some smart-allec potioneer found it in a crackerjack box!"

Harry stared.

"I have all of your memories, remember? Including the memory of you spying on Dudley and his friends watching that movie. I must say I find myself quite admiring this Yogurt fellow.

Harry punctuated his stare with a few blinks.

"Oh whatever, the point is, that potion is the amateur's way to do it. I'll just use your magic to have us take a look at your magical core. It'll induce an animagus trance so we can see the animal."

Harry came out of his Merlin Movie Moment trance enough to nod.

"Alright then, here we go." And with that, Merlin opened the connection.

Now, it should be noted that this remnant of Merlin possessed, if not memories, than at least vague recollections, of the long life of a man who'd scoured the depths of magic to an extent that few could even imagine. He knew more about how magic was works than any other human ever had. And he was quite familiar with Harry's life so he was even prepared for to experience the rare or unexpected, such as finding magical or multiple forms. All in all, Merlin was fairly certain that no matter how unusual it was, nothing would happen that could really surprise him too much.

Which is why he let out a curse when instead of their dream realm dissolving into a vision of an animal in its natural habitat, the realm began to flash different colors at nauseating speed, before fading into blackness, indicating Harry had fallen from sleep to unconsciousness.

That boy is positively allergic to doing anything the normal way.