Summary:
A century ago, an alien armada appeared from the depths of space and threatened the human race with complete extinction. As the Muggles were driven toward greater and greater desperation, within the Wizarding World the decision was made to emerge once more and provide the necessary aide to keep them all alive.
But even magic is not infallible, and despite their confidence and pride, the Bugger army would have won in short order were it not for the final gambit of a single wizard- the hero, Albus Dumbledore.
In the many decades since the Bugger armada was extinguished, a brittle alliance has held out between humanity in the fear of another, perhaps even more terrible assault upon them from the stars, and in the modern day, this union is known as the International Fleet and Wizarding Council, or IFWC.
Children the world over are gathered by the IFWC and taken to the esteemed, next-generation school in the sky to be trained for spacial warfare when the time comes, and in the hope that the alliance' bonds will be strengthened beyond the reach of earth-based doubts and old stigmas.
The sound of loud voices was a common one for little Harry Potter, a scrawny 5 year old boy who was diminutive even by the standard imposed by the law- not that it was against the law to eat and grow healthy, only that the rations be used sparingly due to the limited amount available to their district.
He was used to not eating very much because of this, but if he were set next to his cousin, Dudley, the comparison between the two of them would seem to make the other boy a year or two older due to the healthy baby fat clinging so easily to the bones.
Today the loud voices seemed to be arguing as they entered through the cupboard-closet set beneath the stairs. Harry stirred as his name seemed to rise among the noise more than once, and old instinct had taught him that it was better to stir and answer when his name was called than to hide away and try to avoid the matter.
He slid off of the sleeping bag and underlying inflatable mattress in the large space and pulled his secondhand reading glasses on from the tiny shelf his aunt had installed there a year before, after the men in the large imposing white robes had arrived for a few minutes one day.
Harry had been on his way home from school and only caught a glimpse of them as they stepped around the corner of Number 4 to look in upon Number 5, but one of the men had turned his head over the shoulder and looked upon him with that piercing blue gaze that was for ever after etched into his mind.
Things had improved a little overall after that.
His aunt didn't berate him as usual for getting a better grade than his cousin, and she also didn't make him watch her cook dinner that night in order to pick up how to do it. When he stepped into his cupboard that night he noticed a little shelf for his glasses beside the lumpy pillows, and a newer looking sleeping bag, and the light didn't flicker like it usually did when he shut the door and settled down to rest.
His uncle was upset about it for the next few weeks, and his aunt had a limp in her step for a month even though she usually kept her posture upright-proper and lady-like, and whenever she looked at him, Harry thought he saw something akin to the look in the white-robed man reflected there back to him for a moment at a time before she would look away and start to order him to do a chore as usual.
Eventually things returned to normal, including the serving size of their lunches and dinners being regulated to only just include him.
Harry was happier for it, though. He still ate as much as he was used to getting and he had better stuff in his cupboard room, and it had remained that way in the months that followed.
He still heard the voices of his aunt and uncle argue from time to time, but they were not quite as... loud wasn't the proper word for it, but it was all he could think of that fit, as they were today.
He slid the door to his cupboard open and looked out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and heard the voices clearly now.
"That brat is the reason my wife has only been able to bear one child despite our desire for two, and now you say you want to take him away, after the irreversible surgery has been performed? I won't tolerate it! Where the bloody hell were you a year ago when it still mattered!?" Uncle Vernon was close to shouting at the other person.
A quieter tone met his, but it was no less... different, more passionate?
"You were well aware of the chance that he would be chosen for the program after-all, Vernon Dursley. It was only a year of time to wait before you committed yourselves to the necessary operations to render further children unavailable- though I must say, the Council appreciates the gesture."
The man paused a moment as if to let that sink in, then continued.
"The state of your first son could only have ensured the second would be just as unfit for command. I'll be quite sure to make a note in his records should Dudley Dursley's name ever come up for recruiting ten years from now."
Though Harry couldn't see it, he could almost feel the tension that had permuted the living room when he finally walked closer to it and peered around the corner.
A white-robed man sat alone in the middle of the couch as he stared over to the loveseat where Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were huddled, with his cousin squatting down against the armrest.
Unlike the two who had visited before, this man had a startling grim black gaze, with smooth black hair down to his neck and a slim stick of wood sticking out of the belt at his waist.
Uncle Vernon didn't take well to be addressed in such a manner. His thick fists were clenching and unclenching in a way that meant he was preparing to physically break something, and from the concentration on his face, Harry thought it was clear that the white-robed man was the desired target.
As if attracted by the thought, the man glanced over and took in the sight of him peering in cautiously. "Ah. Just the subject we were debating over. Come in, Harry Potter." He instructed, clearly an order and not an invitation.
His aunt and uncle turned to glare at him heavily as he approached, and he glanced between the two opposing forces with a bit of questioning before the white-robed man gestured to the couch.
"I won't accept this, do you hear me? I refuse! That little bastard has cost me a second child and I won't allow him to go off and be treated like a prince with the rest of your kind! He's going to stay right down here and live like a m-muggle until he comes of age!" whatever the strange word was and what Uncle Vernon meant by 'down here', he seemed quite intent to punish Harry for something he hadn't even done.
The look on the other mans face hardened, and the tension in the air increased between them.
"It is unfortunate for you, Vernon Dursley, that your wife has already signed the agreement form- and being the only direct blood relative, it was her signature that we required to initiate procedure," he said.
As his uncle turned to Aunt Petunia in a mixture of dismay and anger, the man drew the stick of wood at his waist and waved it twice through the air, and conjured a sheet of paper that was clearly written with her delicate and practiced script.
Then he stated calmly, "At the time of the surgery among all those forms agreeing to go through with the operation, you read and signed the waver to your nephew's rights of well-being and continued up-bringing should we, the Fleet, come for him. It has been three hundred and fifty-nine days precisely since that point, and we have indeed come."
Aunt Petunia buried her face in her hands at the sight of the form, muttering beneath her breath about things he could not hear, and after seeing his wife's confirmation of the facts Uncle Vernon's face flushed to a terrible shade of puce as he snapped up to his feet with surprising speed for his bulk.
In the next moment he had snatched the paper from the air and was attempting to rip it apart with all his strength, his fingers gripping and digging in as he gnashed his teeth together viciously.
Harry felt a sense of dread as he watched, knowing that when his uncle was through that something bad would indeed happen to him, but to his evident curiosity the sheet twisted and turned every which way yet it did not tear even once or look very wrinkled when Uncle Vernon stopped and panted several seconds later.
"You may continue to waste your strength, Vernon Dursley - it was charmed unbreakable the moment we received it, so you know - or you can sit back down like a reasonable muggle and let things proceed as they are clearly going to." The white-robed man said at that point.
If looks could have killed, everyone else in the room would have probably been stricken down at that point as Uncle Vernon glared heavily at them.
He made one final desperate attempt to prevent anything from happening and lunged forward, slapping the sheet at the other mans face as he reached down to encircle the whole of Harry's throat in his other hand.
Wide green eyes stared up into paralyzed and thinned out blue, and for a long moment Harry couldn't breath for the tight grip cutting off his air, but then the man next to him had his stick cutting through the air, and slowly the fingers released their stranglehold and his uncle backed up to sit down heavily into the loveseat again.
Rubbing at the soreness, Harry found the pain seeping away as the stick moved and, unbeknownst to him, a faint glow suffused his neck as the injury was healed and checked over for any left over pain.
"Seeing as you have invalidated any laws regarding your own protection during these pick-ups, I could quite easily have you turned into a pawn for a game of our chess without seeing the slightest reprimand from my superiors, especially once they verify my memory of these events in due time. What do you say, Harry Potter? Would you like to see your uncle turned into a chess piece?" the white-robed man asked him curiously.
Harry blinked. "Sir?" he asked unsurely, staring up at him and the stick in hand.
"Yes, I suppose that wouldn't do. I think we'll merely impart a county-wide draw-back on supplies for the next few years, courtesy of the Dursleys. That should be punishment enough- the scandal and embarrassment, along with the scorn they will bare from the neighbors." He said and stood up, the sheet of paper disappearing as it had appeared before.
"There are some things we should discuss in another room, Harry Potter, regarding what has happened today and what the sheet of paper represents for your future- but they could wait if we get a simple question answered here and now," the man said. Harry stood up as well.
"Seeing the way your uncle has reacted today, would you feel safe, let alone happy, staying here until you come of age at seventeen?" he asked.
Harry didn't need to think about it for more than a moment or two. "No, sir." He answered honestly. The man didn't smile, but he looked a little better around the eyes at hearing that.
"Very good, Harry Potter. That is all we needed to know- follow me." Walking out into the hall way and then to the front door, the man glanced over his shoulder to make sure Harry was doing so, then stepped out onto the front porch and continued on to the edge of the yard.
Harry paused on the threshold and glanced back at his cupboard room, wondering about the rest of his stuff in there, but the slight sobs coming from his aunt out of the living room made him shiver uncomfortably and he carried on.
"Prepare yourself for one of the first senses of magic you will have experienced in four years, Harry Potter." The man said simply when Harry caught up to him at the edge of the yard.
"Magic?" he repeated curiously. The man stared at him for a moment before answering.
"You did not question how the paper appeared or did not tear? Ah. I see." He answered himself after looking into Harry's eyes for a few seconds, drawing a faint pain therein before it vanished.
"Yes, Harry Potter. Magic. You are a wizard just as I am, and you'll find what the the ins and outs of that meaning are in the time ahead. Take my hand, take a firm breath, and prepare to take your first step into Apparition." The man told him.
Harry did as he was told and a few seconds later blacked out from the sensation of being crushed to death.
When he woke up, Harry was in a bed in what looked to be an infirmary. Around him were several other children, though there were just as many empty beds that looked to have been unneeded and unused.
A silvery-white haired boy was already standing around and examining things closely, while a bright red-head was looking very ill and clutching at the bed sheets tightly. Next to him was a round-faced boy that reminded Harry of Dudley.
In fact, come to look at them all, most of the other children looked rather like Dudley- that is to say, healthy and well fed with plenty of meals at regular intervals.
The only girl in the room was a proper blond, with as much of a look of dissatisfaction as he had ever seen from his aunt.
He slipped out from beneath the bedsheets and swung his legs over the edge, and it was about that point that the white-robed man appeared from no where in the middle of the room. Harry jumped back in surprise as the other children showed similar signs of distress.
"I see you are all mostly up and active. Weasley, stop slouching behind the sheets, because if you didn't want to be here you shouldn't have said yes when asked." The man said. He was the same one that had picked up Harry.
"For those of you unaware of why you're here," and the man looked briefly over one shoulder to stare at Harry, "it is because of the war occurring in the depths of space, a war between the human race and an outside enemy fierce enough to unite muggle and wizard together to combat it."
"You are here because we, the International Fleet and Wizarding Council, have deemed you worthy of having the necessary traits to help the war effort in the years ahead. It has been found that obtaining an early enough start will allow us to shape those characteristics most useful to our purpose and grind out the ones that would ruin you." The man continued with barely a pause to breath.
"In less than one standard earth-side hour, each of you will be joining me on the way to the School. Thankfully, as wizards, this means the trip will be a smooth and simplistic journey of Apparitions. The muggles who will join you in due time have the less fortunate route of relying on machinery to boost them up through the atmosphere."
At that point Harry spoke up. "Sir, didn't we use Apparition to get here?" he asked cautiously.
The man looked at him flatly. "Did I say I was through speaking, Potter, or that you had permission to address me yet?" he returned sharply.
Harry blinked and frowned. "N-no, sir, but-" he began only to be cut off.
"Than do us all a favor and shut your mouth until I ask for questions, or you may enjoy the trip like the muggles." Having temporarily put the boy in his place, he began to speak again only to find himself interrupted.
"Sir, I want to ride with the muggles. I thought I was dying after taking your hand." Harry said.
"... You have put me at a dilemma, Potter. Clearly I was expecting too much of you to think you would handle Apparition at such a young age like your fellow wizards would- certainly, no one else has fainted since I have been on the job of retrieval. If I give you what you want I may hold my word, and yet that defeats the purpose of punishing you at all." The man said neutrally.
Harry just stared up at him in confusion over why he was reacting this way compared to the more open result earlier that day, if it was the same day.
"Very well. Unfortunately for you, that destination is several hundred miles away from here, and that means at least one Apparition if I felt like being hasty. I think two will do the job well enough to ensure no mishaps or splinching occurs." And here the man smiled cruelly down at him.
Harry leaned back into the bed and felt his stomach tense up.
End Chapter One.