Part 1: Potter Returns

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, or any elements taken from the Final Fantasy series.

Summary: Dark magic on a baby means bad things all around, and the boy is spirited away, never to return. But what happens when it turns out to be a big misunderstanding?

Not a dark story, but not so light hearted; written in a serious manner…of sorts. After all, the Final Fantasy series has recurring themes of orphans and soldiers that have seen some harsh things, and yet retain their good natures.

Warnings: Language, Immaturity and Maturity, Teenagers being Teenagers, Wrong BWL, Wrong Dumbledore, and frequent grammar mistakes. I'm not the best writer, and I don't like editing.

Albus Dumbledore had always tried to look after his students, even if they were all grown up. After all, to a man who had lived over a century, it was hard not to see everyone as a child.

He cared for them all as best he could, but he held a special place in his heart for his valiant Gryffindors, especially the Potters, whose love and courage were admired by all.

So, when Voldemort was vanquished by young Eddy, he had to make a terrible decision on their behalf. Would he let them raise the other boy, Harry? Should he let them love the boy with all their hearts, only for him to betray them with the evil he held within, so strong he could feel it at a distance?

No. He wouldn't be so cruel as to drag out their misery. He'd take care of the boy, and spare them the pain of having to do it in the future.

But when he held the boy in his arms, he knew that not even he was cruel enough to end a child's life.

So he'd take away the boy, and prevent him from knowing anything of magic, of gaining any power over his dear friends the Potters.

And thus he'd told the Potters that young Harry had been utterly destroyed by Voldemort, and Richard had been the one to save them all.

And he'd comforted them in their grief, even as he knew that young Harry would live his life away from the magical world, away from his family, away from magic, locked away in an orphanage, unable to hurt anyone.

But he'd seen the truth years later, hidden within the pages of a mutilated diary that exuded dark emotions that felt oh-so familiar.

Young Harry was not evil.

He was a horcrux.

And so he'd begun his quest to search for the young man, a quest that had taken the better part of a couple of years, and he had succeeded.

Now, all he had left to do was convince the boy to go with him.

It turned out that young 'Henry Porter' (a name he had cleverly given him, to both conceal him and make him easier to find) had been adopted a week within being sent to the orphanage by a kind widow who had never managed to conceive. She had taken care of him for a decade, before dying in her sleep from an unforeseen heart defect. He was then shuttled to a boy's home, where he'd apparently fallen into bad company, if his appearance was anything to judge by.

His naturally unkempt hair was worse than James's had ever been. It stuck up in the back in an unruly manner like the feathers of a duck's behind, as if he'd just woken up (even though it was at least four in the evening), and the fringe framed his face and fell above his eyes in an ominous manner.

He was dressed well, but the button-down white shirt had the collar stiffly pulled up around his neck and was unbuttoned enough to show another shirt underneath. His pants were tucked into boots, and a jacket was wrapped around his waist.

For a first impression, it was enough to make Albus Dumbledore think him a common ruffian.

"The Missus said you wanted to see me, sir?"

He had a polite manner of speaking that belied his rather thuggish appearance.

"Yes, I did," Dumbledore said in reply. "Please, have a seat," he continued, motioning to the chairs arranged around the coffee table to one side.

The boy sat in an informal manner, Dumbledore noted, and his hands came up to rest loosely on the chair's arms, revealing leather bracers as the sleeves of his arms pulled back.

"What do you know of your parents, Henry?" Dumbledore asked, watching the boy's eyes for a hint of anything beyond disinterest.

"You mean biologically, right?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "I doubt you'd be here if it had to do with my mum." His eyes glanced to the side for a second, and he fell silent. After a moment, he continued. "I don't know anything; never thought to ask, to tell the truth."

"Well," Dumbledore said, drawing his wand (and the boy's eyes, who glanced at the long stick with muted interest). "I believe I have some surprises for you."

After a few tricks, which drew a light into the boy's eyes (at last), Albus decided to question him. "Have you ever done anything magical, Harry?"

The boy's eyes narrowed thoughtfully at the foreign name, but he didn't bring it up. Instead, he answered the question. "I always made my mum feel better," he spoke, glancing to the side again. "She had heart problems, and anytime I saw her feel weak, it seemed I made her healthy again."

Albus followed his gaze, landing on a faded pink ribbon that he had tied to his wrist.

"Aside from that, maybe as a baby," Harry finished with a shrug.

"I see," Albus said thoughtfully, lamenting the fact that he'd ever abandoned such a kind child to fate. "May I ask how your life here is?"

"It's alright," Harry replied, looking back to Dumbledore. "I do chores, go to school, and play with friends. I have a few part time jobs here and there, nothing too exciting."

"Well, Harry Potter," Dumbledore announced, "I believe that will all change now."

"So, somehow, Voldemort's magic had banished me, and I ended up in an orphanage, and since then you've been looking for me?" the young man summarized, his relaxed position belying the intense light in his eyes.

"That's correct," Dumbledore said with a nod. "But I have found you, and if you wish, you can return to your family."

The boy glanced at the wand on the table between them, before glancing up at Dumbledore. "Sure," he said with a shrug. "When can I meet them?"

Dumbledore was surprised at that. "You wish to meet them now? You don't need any time to prepare?"

"I'd like to meet them as soon as possible," Harry confirmed. "How else could I make any decisions about them?"

"It's a very special wand," old man Ollivander spoke, his eyes trying to bore into Harry's. "Its brother gave you that scar…"

Harry refrained from scoffing at the man, trying to keep himself from showing any emotion in front of old man Dumbledore, whose very being screamed an unnatural interest in him, in his reactions, his thoughts, his emotions.

It was almost enough to make him activate the gems on his left bracer and just blast the old bastard, just to get him off his back. Or perhaps pull out the blade hidden under his jacket.

As for Ollivander, what business did he have looking at his scars? Freaky old man, really.

"Let's go, Harry," Henry, you old shit, "And pick up a pet. Would you like an owl?"

Fuck birds. "I'd rather not, sir."

"Owls are wonderful creatures," Dumbledore told him, "They are very loyal, and can carry mail to your friends."

"I don't think I can handle a pet, sir."

"Well, that's alright, Harry." The barmy old man patted his shoulder and walked on, oblivious to his companion's annoyance.

"Harry!"

"Harry!"

"Harry!"

"Big brother!"

Henry stoically (on the inside, anyway) allowed their hugs, and he gave them all reassuring smiles, as if saying, 'Yes, I'm finally home,' even though he felt like jumping out the window.

His mum was never this touchy-feely, never this emotional. She loved him, and she hugged and kissed him, but never did she clutch at him so desperately, pressing tear stained faces near him, grabbing him all over as to assure his continued existence.

He was starting to get claustrophobic when Dumbledore cleared his throat and brought everyone back to their senses with a few words, allowing him to finally get a look at them.

James was tall, taller than him, and had wavy black hair, a wide smile, and shining eyes hidden behind round glasses.

Lily was his size with auburn hair and his features, he recognized, the same nose and cheeks and smile (when he had something to smile about, anyway) and his piercing green eyes (though his didn't show so much of who he was: they were just his eyes, not looking glasses on his face, not windows to his soul).

Eddy was taller than him, he realized (fraternal twin, apparently) with his father's features and coloring but his mother's straight hair.

As for the girl, Rosie was all smiles and dimples and messy red hair and she looked like a little sister, more than any little sister he'd ever seen before.

And when Dumbledore told his story (which was complete bullshit, a voice inside told him) they completely believed him.

They never saw into it, Henry noted. They never asked 'Why haven't you found him before?' or 'Why would he be banished to a fucking orphanage with a name so similar to the original?' or 'How did you find him, if you said he was gone forever just ten years ago?'

As for his story, he saw the relief on James's face when he spoke of a happy childhood. He saw the jealousy flashing in Lily's eyes when he spoke of his mum (his mum, that beautiful angel who raised him and taught him honor and the importance of doing your best and a million other things). He saw the muted horror in Eddy's eyes when the boy realized that could have been his life (even though he didn't know half of his story, didn't realize that his story was far too simple to be true, didn't know the crap that came with not having a father and later not having anyone and having to fend for himself in the anarchy of a boy's home and then rising above them all). Rosie however, seemed to be the most observant of them all, and her frown at the end was the only proper reaction he'd seen in a long time.

"So, do you play Quidditch?" asked the tall ginger monstrosity, with ridiculous long hair to his shoulders who had come to play with Eddy.

"What's that?" Henry asked.

The ginger seemed to recoil. "Only the greatest sport ever!" the ginger half-shouted.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'll show you how to play," Eddy assured him.

"He has to study," Remus Lupin announced, coming in with a pile of books. "We have to get him ready for Hogwarts if he wants to enter at the same year as you two, remember?"

Remus was one of the few sane adults. On their first tutoring session alone, he'd confessed he had his doubts, and that was enough to cement his opinion on the man.

That and the fact that he was a werewolf, which was pretty cool.

"That's right!" announced Sirius Black as he barged in. "We are going to make you into the greatest wizard to ever walk into Hogwarts."

Sirius was alright too. It turned out that Dumbledore had him thrown into Azkaban for a week while the Potters picked up the pieces of their life. Of course they had testified on his behalf and gotten him out as soon as they could. For that, he harbored a special dislike for the old man, even as he acted as if nothing had happened.

He was a man after his own heart. Neither of them trusted those twinkling blue eyes of the headmaster. They refused to buy into his lies.

He also loved life, and loved to laugh, reminding him of his mum's dead husband, though Sirius wasn't nearly as awesome as the forever young soldier he'd seen in pictures and videos, and whose things Henry wore constantly.

When he was young, he'd thought that the soldier with spiky black hair was his real father, and his kind green-eyed mum his real mother.

Even with the truth known to him, he still thought of himself as their child.

"Can I watch?"

Rosie was awesome. Ron and Eddy constantly ignored her just because she was two years below them in school. But she was tough and cute, and really liked hanging out with her new big brother, who never ignored her.

"Of course," Henry assured her. "Learning more is always a good thing."

One night he woke up to the sensation of someone touching his hair.

His green eyes glanced up through his long fringe and met an identical pair that shone in the moonlight.

"Lily," Henry whispered, even though he knew it wasn't the mum that raised him. Still, Lily did love him, and he felt as though it would be cruel to take that away from her. It wasn't her fault that Dumbledore was as suspicious as an orphan with frosting all over his cheeks running from a bakery.

"Harry," she said, not seeming worried in the least that she'd been caught. "I just wanted to see you."

In the face of his silence, she elaborated. "When you and Eddy were babies, I'd just hold you, and run a hand over…"

"It's okay," Harry assured her. It really is. "I'm okay with it."

"It's just…" Lily started, before falling silent, the emotions she wanted to express unable to leave her throat.

"I understand," Harry spoke, reading everything in her eyes as he always did. To him, she was an open book. Maybe it came from seeing the same eyes every time he looked in a mirror? Then again, no matter how much he'd loved Mum, he never had such a strong connection with her.

"…Tell me about the woman who raised you," Lily spoke some time later.

Henry hesitated, before speaking. "I actually don't know much about her. She was adopted, she told me, which is why she had decided to adopt as well. She had been married to someone, but he had died out in some war. All I know is…she was kind, and always tried to smile. She was good at gardening, and religious. She was pretty great."

"…What do you think she'd say if she saw you now?"

"She'd hate my haircut," Henry said. "She always liked my eyes. She'd want me to dress properly, to stop slouching. She'd tell me to be like her husband: to embrace my dreams, and honor."

Henry paused for a second before continuing. "She'd want me to give you a chance."

"…Will you give us a chance, Harry?"

Henry…no, Harry now, smiled.

"I already have."

The next day he went to breakfast with his hair neatly combed back…even if the damned strands tended to lift up and spike. His collar was down, his shirt buttoned, and his jacket was nowhere to be seen. The shirt that day was short sleeved, revealing the bracer he wore on his left hand. It was studded with round gems and had been adapted to hold his wand, so no one would question its purpose.

"What's with that old thing anyway?" James asked, glancing over the newspaper. "If you wanted a holster, we could buy you a dragon skin one. Plain and simple, with a few useful spells."

It was one of his Mum's husband's bracers, and specially made to hold the gems. No way would he ever replace it. "It's awesome," Harry asserted. "I don't need a new one. Besides, it's a Wizard Bracelet. It has its abilities."

James frowned, but said nothing.

"Well," Lily said, smiling as he saw his new appearance. "I think it's nice."

Eddy coughed something that sounded like 'lame.'

"Anyway," James announced casually, "I have tickets to the Quidditch world cup, if anyone wants to go."

Quidditch, he realized, was impossible to describe, beyond the rules anyway, and was pretty awesome to watch.

Playing it? Not his cup of tea, of course, but to each their own. He had liked flying the few times he tried it. However, he wasn't very competitive beyond what was necessary, unlike Ron and Eddy, who took everything to ridiculous heights.

It was the after party where the fun ended.

As soon as he caught sight of an attacker among the chaos, he activated the gems on his left arm and began his rush, pulling his broadsword from his seemingly empty back pocket.

The fool caught sight of him and aimed his wand, shouting, "Avada Kedavra!"

The curse, for he assumed that was what it was, slid off of him like water, and the ribbon tied around his arm grew warm.

On the blade itself, one yellow gem flashed, and Harry cleavedthe man's arm off with one swing, then smashed him into the ground and into unconsciousness with a punch to the head.

With one enemy down, Harry spun in place and locked on another one, the gems on his bracer sparkling furiously as he blocked a fiery spell, letting the Wizard Bracelet absorb the flames, invigorating him.

A green gem flashed on his arm, and he threw the energy locked within at his enemy, a weak bolt of lightning striking the wizard, knocking him out.

Just like the simulator, Harry absently noted, falling into an easy rhythm as he hunted down the rest of the terrorists.

He had managed to find his family again, and get off scot free for his actions, seeing as no one came forward to denounce him. However, he resolved to wear both his Wizard Bracelet and Aegis Armlet with numerous green and yellow gems, and put a few purple gems here and there. His pockets were fully stocked, and his weapons polished and sharpened.

No one in his family said a word when they began to see him with two bracers, one holding his wand and the other a knife.

After all, you could never be too careful, as the World Cup fiasco had shown everyone.

After a boring trip on the Hogwarts Express (on which Rosie dragged him around, Eddy and Ron introduced him to everyone, and he met unpleasant people) he finally caught sight of the castle above the lake.

It was pretty awesome, though the rain ruined the effect a bit.

He watched the little kids walk around him, amazed by everything, before the doors opened, admitting a severe looking woman who stared at him for a second before ushering along the first years, telling him to wait for his turn to be sorted.

It was a boring half hour before she came back for him and ushered him into a large hall with four tables filled with brats and a long table at the front from which old man Dumbledore presided.

Harry, who was getting rather used to not having to have his guard up, felt his face fall into its accustomed impassiveness with certain reluctance. A minor flick allowed his fringe to fall near his eyes and around his face, occluding his gaze from old man Dumbledore's searching gaze.

He walked towards the focus of the room: a ratty old hat perched upon a stool.

The severe woman took the hat and placed it on his head as he took a seat.

"GRYFFINDOR!" it shouted, surprising him with its loudness, and everyone clapped for him.

Why? He asked himself, frowning out at the tables. Why the home of the brave and honorable? Why not the cunning, or the intelligent?

You both over and underestimate yourself, Potter, the hat whispered in his ear. You'll do well in Gryffindor, I assure you.

A/N: Well, my writing style has changed a lot since I wrote this, that's for sure. I edited it a bit to bring it up to my standards, but I didn't do too much. A bit more here, a bit less there, some really long sentences chopped in two.

I had given up on writing any more, but a kind reviewer called me out on my bullshit and inspired me to write some more. So, yeah. I'll give it another whirl. I've got a few scenes done on the next chapter, and have the ending visualized. Updates happen when I've got time. I'll try to reply to reviews.