"You know what they say? Lies are only friends you haven't met yet"
- Sheen, Jimmy Neutron Boy Genius.

"Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber baron then under omnipotent moral busy bodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us with out end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience." – C.S. Lewis

A/N: If you haven't read all four parts of Ten Years in Lost Memory don't even try to read this. It won't make any sense at all. And guess what, I'm not going to explain it all again in this story.

This is my Harry Potter Fan Fiction. This takes place in Harry's seventh year and will go to when ever I feel like ending it. It follows some of the story lines in the sixth book but all of them. Dumbledore is indeed dead in this (sorry to anyone who hasn't gotten that far) Ginny and Harry dated. But I refuse to not let Harry go back to Hogwarts it my story my way. And Bill isn't getting married. And hopefully you'll figure it out. This starts a little confusingly but all will be explained in later chapters. Worry not, oh elusive reader!

Heir to a Dead Man's Empire

Chapter One

Joshua Juarbe stared at the ceiling as the Queens Counsel took their seats; they all knew it would be their last meeting for a very long time. The Queen sat at the front of the circular table and addressed the group in the traditional Pagan tongue.

'This is a sad day.' She said her husband sat quietly behind her, knowing his place. 'We will not be seeing each other for a very long time. The threat of Atu is gone for the moment, but I beg you not to be fooled. She will return when we least expect it. So be alert, and don't be fooled by subtleties. I want the Key to be well hidden, somewhere no Pagan would ever put such a precious thing, and I want that sword with the Dien King at all times. Understood?' The Counsel nodded their heads sadly. 'We are done now. Go, be at peace.' The Counsel left almost as soon as it had come.

Harry did this thing sometimes. He would stay awake the whole night, do nothing but think and not be tired at all the next day. It had been happening very offend.

Harry had a feeling. It was just a feeling. But it was a damn strong feeling. And a relatively correct feeling, that something big was about to happen. And that that something big would set into action a course of events that would change Harry's life forever.

Now, I say relatively correct because Harry thought that the something big would be Voldemort's doing. But the something big that would actually take place was much bigger then Voldemort and his insolent cronies could ever dish out. This something big would come out of someone small. Someone Harry was spending a lot more time thinking about. A lot more time then usually he did anyway.

So we find Harry sitting in bed with all the lights out, thinking. He had the sudden and unexpected urge for a pipe and some fine red wine. He could almost taste the smoke in his mouth and smell the rich deep red wine in his nose. He wanted it so much that he even considered looking for a spell to transfigure his quill into a pipe, his parchment into some tobacco, and his ink well into a glass of red wine.

Harry had never wanted such forbidden treasures in his life. He had a sudden flashback or instantaneous memory of sorts. He was being swung around in the air by a man, or what he thought was a man, with messy black hair and glasses. And he had a pipe in his mouth, by the chair the man had been sitting in there was a glass of red wine. The image was gone almost as soon as it had come. Harry could only assume that the man, or what he thought was a man, was his father, James. Perhaps he wanted the pipe and the wine to remember his father.

Harry had been having these strange flashbacks of his baby life with his parents a lot. In fact he was doing a lot of strange things recently. And his feeling was that doing these strange things was only feeding whatever big thing that was about to happen.

Actually, it was.

Harry was taking on his natural demeanor. The demeanor of Pagan Dien Royalty.

Sometimes he would mutter in a language he did not recognize.

Sometimes he would make the entire house shake because he thought about something hard enough.

Sometimes he would transfigure things just by waving his hand, no wand involved.

He started getting curious about these new abilities. He tried to do them on purpose. At first he could not. But then when would just do it he would try to do more. Like say an entire sentence in a language he did not understand. Or he would make things move or disappear while the ground shook. Or he would transfigure a teapot into a pan then turn it back.

Soon, over weeks of practice, he could do it all. He began to understand whatever language he was speaking. He could control the shaking and could make interesting things happen without the shaking. He could transfigure things a will. No words, no spells or wands involved.

Harry did not understand his new abilities. But they felt too naturally that he never thought to question them.

Truth be told as Harry began to believe himself an adult, the Pagan within him started to emerge and play along with what would happen to any other Pagan adult, naturally.

Harry looked at the book sitting at the edge of his bed. The world suddenly seemed daunting. Everyone seemed to bore Harry.

That is, everyone but Ginny.

He had been thinking about her a lot. He thought it meant nothing. Seeing as they had dated. He thought that he was just missing her. And he was. Badly.

It meant everything.

Though at that moment, all that mattered was the book at the end of Harry's bed.

It was leather bound, with a scribbley language that Harry had only recently learned to read. He reached to grab the book. But once he had it in his hands, he was no longer interested. He dropped it on the ground.

He picked up a piece of parchment and scribbled a note to Ron. He tied it to Hedwig's leg and sent her out the window.

He did not care about the Dursleys' rules anymore. In his mind, if they kicked him out he would be better off.

He looked back at his bed. The book lay by his bed like a tribute to some long forgotten god. He rolled his shoulders and sat back on the bed.

Nights like this were common for Harry.

He would receive a note back from Ron in the morning. So, there was no point in waiting up.

But he was not tired. On nights like these, he was never tired.