Title: Strength
Author: Qellaswe
Rating: K /PG
Warnings: n/a
Pairing: Harry/Xander friendship
Spoilers: thru HBP for HP, all BtVS, tiny mention of Angel
Disclaimer: I don't own HP or BtVS. In fact, I don't own much of anything.
Summary: Harry's forced vacation turns out to be the best thing to ever happen to him. He meets a man who will help him shape a new world. But for now, he just thinks Xander's eye patch is cool looking.

Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will. - Mohandas Gandhi

Later, it would become known as one of the greatest pranks ever played on existence.

When Harry Potter met Alexander 'Xander' Harris, the Powers That Be had planned on creating two of what would become their greatest Champions. They didn't take into account that Harry Potter was the most stubborn person they'd come across in a long time, and Xander Harris had stopped being anyone's plaything some time ago.

One was a wizard, that despite having lived in the Wizarding World for more than half of his life, thought and reasoned the way he had when he didn't know about magic. The other had been touched by magic all of his life, but could not command its powers for himself. By the time they were done, every single living thing would feel the consequences of what the two men had done. For, when they combined their strengths, they began to forge a new order - one that relied on what people believed they could do, and not just think they could accomplish.

That, however, is a different story.

This is just how they met.

When Harry arrived in the United States, he had grumbled the entire distance from the international portkey site to the Los Angeles branch of Gringotts. He would have liked to have done more, but he hadn't wanted to be arrested for unruly conduct. Instead, he had mentally cursed Hermione for shoving the portkey into his hands, McGonagall for not letting him stay at Hogwarts, and Los Angeles for being so freaking hot.

Eight days later found Harry in Cleveland to deliver a sword.

Someone must have cast some sort of chaos magic on him when he was a baby. Either that or some sort of good luck charm that'd gone hideously wrong. Knowing his luck, it was something else he'd inherited from Voldemort when the idiot had tried to kill him the first time.

Of course, his being in Cleveland wouldn't have happened if he hadn't decided to take a walk around LA at eleven at night. On the other hand, he'd been able to take his frustrations of being forced to take a vacation out on a vampire gang that left his magic settled, even if his clothes ended up a bit dusty - it wasn't anything that a cleaning charm couldn't take care of, anyway. Halfway through his rampage, he'd been joined by a tall man who reminded him of Kingsley and had invited him to join him for a drink afterwards.

Which is how he met the people that ran Wolfram and Hart. Who knew that lawyers really were evil creatures? Harry had just thought that Vernon had been on one of his usual rants about freaks when he'd cursed all lawyers. Ten years later, he was stunned to find that it was true, in a surreal sort of way, although it came with its own little world separate from the muggle and magical worlds.

Harry had been leery of portkeying with a sword, due to his tendency to somehow make the thing drop him ten feet above his destination. The only time that hadn't hurt had been when he ended up in the lake beside Hogwarts and not on one of the tower spires like he'd feared he would. Still, he'd managed to end up relatively unhurt - except his pride - by landing in front of a house filled with teenaged girls.

Flashbacks of the mobs of fans in Diagon Alley after defeating Voldemort ran through his mind before it shut down at the hormonal horde that descended upon him.

When his mind eventually rebooted, Harry was surprised to find himself surrounded - surrounded all right, but not with girls. All around him were books that Hermione would give up her first-born child for. Make that all of her children, Harry amended. Some of them, frankly, were beginning to creep him out when the door opened to admit a middle-aged man wearing glasses and carrying a most welcome sight.

"Tea?" the man asked.

Harry let out a heavy sigh. "Lord, yes. A week in this country, and I haven't had a decent cup yet."

The man chuckled. "I'd forgotten how much that hurt when I first arrived here. Rupert Giles," the man introduced himself, hand out holding the precious cup of tea.

"Harry Potter. And thank you," was his grateful reply before taking a cautious sip of the hot liquid.

For several minutes, there was nothing but the soft clink of china heard in the room.

Harry leaned back as he set his cup in its saucer one last time, the dregs showing a shape Trelawny would have loved to read. He dismissed it as he looked over at the man seated across from him. There was something about him that made him at once uneasy and safe. It wasn't enough for him to leave, though, considering the man he'd met up with had nothing but good to say about those that ran this group.

"What, exactly, is a watcher?"

Giles jumped, and Harry was a bit amused by how fast he managed to set his cup down and grab his napkin. "Sorry," he apologized at the man's look. "I wasn't expecting that reaction. It's just that those girls thought I was one because of my accent."

The older man sighed. "I had hoped to break them of that, but they do seem to believe that all Watchers are British. While most of them are, due to the Council having been headquartered in London until a couple of years ago, there are still those who were already out in the field.

"I am sorry that you were bombarded with the girls, but as you may have guessed, males are in short supply around here. There are two other men that are in this location's group at the moment, both of which live here permanently. I, myself, am only a visitor due to this latest apocalypse.

"A Watcher is both a guardian and trainer to a slayer..."

And so went Harry's introduction to the Hellmouth in Cleveland. After some of the missions he'd been on, over the course of five years with the Aurors, it sounded a lot better - considering the last ten cases he'd been assigned to had been the average robbery, instead of something more exciting, like say, a dark lord trying to take over magical England.

To say that Harry was intrigued was like asking if he liked to fly. A quick eagle-flown letter to his supervisor in London later, he was making plans to help the second incarnation of the Watchers' Council. In addition to that, he was looking forward to working with their Wiccan expert. Besides, he was tired of the politics that went with his job.

Two days later, Harry finally got to meet the last man of the crew. The crisis had been averted, but Xander, the man he was about to meet, had been at the airport sending off a couple of the people who had come - including Giles. Harry was a bit disappointed at his fellow Brit leaving, but the older man hadn't left before recommending a local store where decent tea was available.

The other man, Andrew, had seemed to be the type to live in the media lab. Harry had been quite confused by some of the references the younger man had tossed around, but on the whole knew he was harmless. Well, harmless in that roundabout way by never meaning to actually cause it. In fact, it felt rather like an assignment he'd been given last year to watch over a Muggle who'd decided to try and raise a demon in Trafalgar Square. She hadn't meant to do it, but Harry'd had to babysit until they could arrange for her to join a coven - where they could keep an eye on her.

Harry smiled at a couple of the older girls who had volunteered to help him with dinner. He had made the mistake of cooking a meal yesterday, and all of those in the house had demanded he cook as long as he was here. The meals he'd had before that hadn't been all that bad, but they had rather reminded him of Ron's cooking - decent fare, but wouldn't be winning any awards, but didn't send people to St. Mungo's like Hermione's did. Harry had loathed cooking while at his relatives, but he'd found, in the eight years since he'd left Hogwarts, that he rather liked to cook for himself. It helped that it wasn't greasy foods that were 'designed to meat some meat on Dudley's bones,' and it was rather nice to have such an appreciative audience.

The sound of the door opening had several of the girls running to the front of the house, leaving Harry with Laura, who was one of the chattiest people he'd ever met. Not that he minded, for her chatter was a) innocent, b) not veiled in innuendo about his bedroom upstairs like the older girls' conversation of half an hour ago, and c) had nothing to do with the Wizarding world but everything to do about her science teacher and how she thought him to be 'hot.' Hey, it was better than listening to Hermione go on about the latest book she'd managed to get a hold of, even if teenaged girls sometimes gave him nightmares.

"... you have to meet Harry," Nora, one of the oldest girls there was saying as the group entered the kitchen.

Harry wiped his hands on a handy towel and turned. To say he was a bit startled by the appearance of the man was downplaying the entire situation.

He lay in bed that night, hearing the faint sounds of breathing from across the room. It was strange, Harry thought, to hear other people at night again, reminding him of being in the dorms while at Hogwarts. It seemed like so long ago, that with something like this, it had been unexpected. Somewhat comforting as well, but he didn't think that it was going to stop him from feeling a bit out of sorts about this entire situation.

Harry didn't know how he'd gotten through the introductions, not with the shock of seeing Alexander Harris. For a moment, he'd thought that he was seeing a ghost, until he really noticed the eye patch - which was rather cool looking if you didn't mind the fact that he didn't have an eyeball behind it, a story several of the girls had tried to tell him over dinner. A small piece of relief went through him at the sight, because it meant that his past wasn't rearing painfully in his face. It was just there.

Somehow he'd made it through dinner and then had hurried off to bed with the excuse that he was tired. Some of the girls had asked him if they could help him get ready - a scary situation for any male to be in - but he'd rattled off an excuse and had used magic to help him escape. It may have been considered cheating, but he was desperate.

Harry had forgotten, though, that he had to share a room with the man in question, so he'd set up a small ward, taken the last sip of sleeping potion that he'd bought in LA, and tried to process what he'd seen tonight.

The sip hadn't been enough to last the entire night, and he'd woken up at four. Harry had been of two minds whether to get up or not, but his roommate had muttered something under his breath, so he hadn't moved. Twenty minutes later, he was tired of keeping quiet and desperately needing to use the loo.

He'd just managed to take down his small ward when the creak of bedsprings alerted him to the movement of his roommate.

"Who are you?" The question was harshly whispered in the darkness of the room. "Where'd you learn magic like that?"

It was just not his night, Harry decided, as he took in the expression on Xander's face. This was looking like he'd have to go for the long explanation. But first...

"Let me use the loo real quick, then let's go down to the kitchen."

"So let me get this straight," Xander was saying as he finished setting the table, "you got to learn magic by going to a fancy school, and you're a cop in a society that secretly exists in England."

Harry shrugged. "It's secret over there. Here, it's a lot more mixed in. LA, for example, has quite an impressive shopping district. The only one I've found that's better is Roma Via in Venice."

Xander sent him an odd look before opening the refrigerator door and taking out the jug of orange juice. "And the reason you went to bed last night was because I resemble a dead guy, and you had to think about it."

A sheepish smile crossed his lips as Harry nodded. "Just about. Doesn't help the situation that it was my godfather. It was either that or scream."

"Well then, good choice with the not screaming part." There was a pause as Harry brought the last of the dishes over to the table. "Will you tell me about him after breakfast?" Xander asked as they seated themselves at one end of the table.

Harry nodded again. "I think I can do that. And you... will you tell me a bit more about Sunnydale?"

As more and more girls entered the room and began eating, he thought over the conversation he'd already had with Xander this morning. At first, the other man had been agressive in his questions. As Harry had continued telling his story, though, he had become more thoughtful and begun asking much more specific questions.

The hardest part had been talking about Sirius. And it hadn't been just the physical likeness that Xander had to his late godfather. Both of them seemed to share the same type of humor, although Sirius' had been tainted by his stay in Azkaban. While it was true that Xander lived on a couple of hellmouths, he was still pure of heart and soul. As for the physical features they both shared, Harry figured it had something to do with one of the names that had been blasted off the Black Family tapestry a generation before Sirius. They'd be the type of family who'd abandon a squib child.

Harry was drawn to Xander in a way he'd never felt before. Having been isolated from others by the Dursleys until he was eleven, and then with the separate Houses, he had never connected with someone right away. Well, other than Sirius, anyway. He felt as if he'd known Xander in a previous life, if there was such a thing, a friend that he had been able to share everything with - almost like a brother.

The girls left in small groups, leaving a messy table behind as they finished getting ready for school. Harry and Xander cleared it off in a companionable silence, washing the dishes and putting the few leftovers aside for Andrew and the two girls who had been on the nightwatch last night. As the two of them prepared the lunches for the girls, Harry mentally prepared the dinner meal for that evening. At home, he would make it up as he came home, but it brought him much more pleasure to do something as simple as this. It may be domestic as all hell, but here he wouldn't be laughed at for his 'exquisite culinary talents' like the Weasley boys would tease.

Sitting down with Xander, they were able to get to the heart of the conversation they'd started earlier. As they began talking, Harry was struck by how intuitive the other man really was. He may not know things off the top of his head, but he knew how to work things out. It was similar to how Harry thought, relying on his own instincts when it came to problem solving.

He knew that Xander was impressed by the magic Harry showed him, often asking how it could be used for different things. He even offered suggestions for spells that Harry didn't know about, refering to the magic used by his friend Willow, the same person Harry was interested in comparing their magic styles with.

Two hours later, they were both back in the kitchen. Harry was heating up the kettle for more tea as Xander sat on the counter, sipping at a bottle of soda.

"So, what's been going on now?" Xander was asking. "Besides your job?"

Harry shrugged. "Not much. Mione was nagging me to take a vacation - hence why I'm here - but everyone else is settled in domestic bliss. Even all of my old girlfriends. What I had of them, at least."

The other man chuckled darkly. "I know what you mean, except all of mine are dead or pretty close to it. Since moving to Cleveland, there hasn't been anyone in my life except slayers, and I won't ever date one. I know what they go through and all, but," he leaned forward to whisper, "they're really scary at certain times of the month, if you know what I mean."

He laughed at that. "I can understand that. Aunt Petunia became - "

The front door slammed, stopping Harry from finishing that sentence - which he couldn't believe he was about to say. There was the sound of feet pounding up the stairs, indicating that their source was a teenaged girl with some teenaged girl problem that they weren't going to touch with a twenty-foot pole. Harry and Xander just looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Will the others have a problem with me staying?" Harry asked, adding a pinch of tea leaves to the pot Xander had pointed him to.

"Nah," was the reply. "In fact, Andrew will probably worship the ground you walk on, especially if you go shopping with him. He keeps on complaining that the girls are trying to turn him into 'one of them.'" Another roll of the eyes accompanied this statement. "And I know that Willow will definitely want to talk to you. Buffy? Who knows with her. She's so involved in German men - I mean Germany - I doubt she realized that anything was happening here. She gets like that when she starts dating someone."

The kettle boiled at that moment, and the conversation paused as Harry made his tea. Once that was complete, they moved into the large den. Harry spied a large screen television on the wall with quite a few pieces of electronic equipment next to it. Then he saw the dozens of cases in the shelves along one wall. He could definitely tell that this was a home to teenage girls. He knew that because back in London, the girl in the flat next to his had seemed to own every single movie that had been available for purchase and also played her music at the loudest volume possible whenever her parents hadn't been home.

"I know Giles wanted to talk more with you, but he had to get back to London to finish going over things with the watchers based out of Europe. He'll probably get with you next week, even if you don't stay. Everyone here really likes you."

Harry grinned. "They like my cooking, you mean."

Xander laughed. "I like your cooking. I'm tempted to tie you down so you can't leave me with Andrew's or my own cooking. But if you do stay, you won't have to cook all the time. We have all the pizza places around here on speed dial, along with every Chinese food restaurant that delivers."

"Sounds good." And Harry knew it was. He'd have to go back to England to get some things, but he knew he wanted to stay with this group. It reminded him of his early adventures at Hogwarts, before he knew that he was the one who would have to deal with it.

Being here in Cleveland was liberating, enlightening, and confirming Harry's own beliefs of what the world needed. He was tired of the Wizarding World thinking themselves superior to those who didn't have magic. He was tired of hypocrites like his aunt and uncle, who retreated from and looked down upon anything that didn't fit their standards. Most of all, Harry was tired of watching as people threw away their beliefs for the next new thing to come their way.

He didn't think that Hermione had been expecting him to take as long a vacation as this. Well, it was her fault, anyway, with her shoving a portkey at him and conspiring with McGonagall to keep him away from Hogwarts. Too bad he would miss the annual Weasley barbeque, though.

Fin.