Well, this is the first fanfic I've ever written. So please be kind. This story is quite non-cannon and doesn't follow HP7 whatsoever, mainly because I wrote it several months ago.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. J.K. Rowling got to them before I did, unfortunately! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1

Harry perched on a bench, hidden completely under his invisibility cloak. He watched as the Harry Potter theme tourists moved down the platforms at King's Cross. He always found it amusing how excited they would get walking towards the 9 ¾ platform sign. How many tourists had he seen crash into that wall? It never failed to make him laugh. He really wasn't fond of Muggles. Today though he noticed there was a girl lagging behind all the other tourists bounding for the wall, taking their turns touching it, taking pictures of it. One boy almost knocked himself out cold ramming into it, and his friends had to carry him away. "Honestly won't these Muggles ever give up?" he thought to himself. When the girl at last got to the wall all alone, she kicked it. "Why can't it be real?" she asked quietly. She didn't look like anyone Harry had ever seen before yet she seemed so familiar. She looked like she just hit her twenties and dressed so different than the other Muggles, not as crazy as Luna, but she definitely had her own style. She seemed so sad and clearly disappointed that the wall wouldn't open for her. He never saw such desperation in a Muggle before. Well, it would have helped if she had been at the right platform. Like many things in the books, the platform number wasn't right. You couldn't have Muggles walking into the wizarding world whenever they felt like it, after all who knows what kind of damage they could do.

He didn't know why, but he was fascinated watching this Muggle. One of the chaperons got off the bus to yell at the girl, "We're leaving you behind, if you don't come now."

Harry followed the chaperon and the girl. "Next and last stop Allivan's," said the driver inside the bus, as the door opened. Allivan's? Harry thought. Did they mean Ollivander's? The bus pulled away after the girl got on. Harry knew a short cut and got there on foot shortly after the tourists had gone in. Yeah, the sign said Allivan's but as Harry peered into the window, he saw it was definitely Mr. Olivander behind the counter. Harry looked up and saw a small sign written above the door. It was written in a language Harry barely knew but had at least learned these words a long time ago at Hogwart's: "All wizards and witches are forbidden to enter here." He looked in again and saw the girl moving about the store. She appeared to finally give up and sat in a chair in the corner, away from the crush of the other Muggles.

"I want this," said a large girl, pushing a smaller girl out the way. "I really need it, Mom. Buy it for me, please", she said handing the wand to her mother.

"I'm surprised she said please," the girl thought to herself, as rude as she was behaving to all the people in the store. But I guess she'll say whatever she needs to get her way.

The man behind the counter was very patient and seemed happy with all the money coming in. The store emptied quickly because he was so efficient. It was amazing how quickly this old man could move.

Finally the girl could look around in peace. No hurry since this was the last stop on the tour. Yeah, every tour she'd ever been on ended like this. The last ditch effort to part the tourists with their money. 'Well, they can't get much from me', she thought. As beautiful as the wands were, they weren't something she really needed. This tour had been enough of a splurge. Ok, so maybe just a postcard to remember the occasion. Besides she'd promised to send something home. The man behind the counter asked if that was all. "Um, yeah," the girl replied.

On the way out, her eye caught a glass case. She looked inside at the intricately carved wand. She read the description. It contained a very rare essence inside. She also noticed the price: $500! "It's….one of a kind," said the man behind the counter. She looked at the shopkeeper and said, "It's incredibly beautiful. I didn't know Dumbledore…."

Suddenly she became aware that someone was standing beside her looking into the case as well. "I've never seen it up close. Hmm… $500 seems a bit steep for a replica. I wonder if the real one even cost that much?"

"What are you doing in here?" asked the shopkeeper angrily.

"I'm sorry Mr. Olli….Allivan. I wasn't aware…" He couldn't really lie about it could he? The sign was clearly displayed. Better to change the subject. "Oh, it's 5pm. You're closed aren't you?" Harry walked to the front door, locking it and changing the sign to closed. "This place is amazing. Everything seems so….real," Harry laughed, quickly working his way to the counter.

He leaned over the counter to Ollivander and said seriously, "I have to be here. I have to know who she is. I have to know…. if she belongs to me."

Ollivander frowned. What a strange thing for Harry to say, especially about a Muggle.

"Harry, what are you talking about?" He hadn't meant to say that so loud.

The girl stared at them and then looked at the wall high above the counter where a small picture hung. It looked just like the man standing in front of the counter. Wasn't that a picture of… She moved cautiously to the counter, still comparing the picture to the man. Both Ollivander and Harry looked at the picture. Harry gasped. "I forgot about that. Lavender drew that, when I was still at school."

Ollivander turned paler than normal. He reached into his pocket to pull out his wand, pointing it at the girl and starting to recite a memory charm.

"No!" Harry yelled, grabbing the wand from him. "Please don't."

"Harry, we have to. She can't know who you are."

Harry shook his head. "She's not the first Muggle to know."

"But they're all children. She's way beyond the learning age. She will never be able to do magic now. And if she's not magical, she can't know about our world," said Ollivander.

Harry didn't care at this point. If he went to Azkaban for this, then so be it. He held out his hand to her.

"My name is Harry Potter."

Harry took out his wand and handed it to the girl. Maybe she was able to do something…anything. "Wave it about."

The girl looked confused but did as he said. Nothing.

"Try again and say, "Allumbor." It probably wouldn't work, but it was the simplest spell Harry knew. Harry looked at the tip of the wand very carefully. He saw the slightest blue glow at the end but nothing more. Well, that was something anyway. Maybe it meant there was some hope for her. Ollivander was probably right though. She was too old to learn, but if she was able to even produce a glow, maybe she wasn't a complete Muggle. Maybe she had some other innate gifts that might allow her to come into his world. Without them though the Ministry would never allow her to stay.

"Harry, you could go to prison for this. You know I have a responsibility to let the Ministry know. They can take away my shop."

"Will you give me some time before you tell the Ministry. Please let me take her in with me. If she has magical gifts, then surely they will let her stay." Harry asked.

"I can maybe give you a few days. Either you come back to show me what she can do or we perform the charm and send her back to her Muggle life with no memory of any of this," stated Ollivander. With this Olivander waved his wand at the large door behind him and it creaked open, revealing a large warehouse full of shelves crammed with small boxes clear to the ceiling.

"Quite a lot of wands. Are any of them real?" Harry asked, taking the girl's hand and leading her through the massive room.

"No. This is why I needn't charge anything for wands now, if a witch or wizard cannot afford them. I've become quite the charity service. Muggles are mad for these useless things." As they walked through, they walked into another room that Harry found very familiar: Ollivander's actual wizarding store, the one he was allowed to be in.

"Thank you." Harry said simply and took the girl out into Diagon Alley.

He looked at the girl's face, and she looked stunned. This wouldn't do. "You're not a Muggle out here. You have to blend in. Stare at the ground if you have to, but your expression now would give you away."

The girl looked a little embarrassed. She looked at the ground. As they walked now she focused on Harry's feet as they moved deftly through the crowd. She stuck close to him, since she felt almost blind walking like this.

Very soon though Harry pulled her into a doorway and brought her around to sit at a bench in front of him. She finally looked up and saw she was in a tavern of some sort. A waitress came over to ask for their order.

"Uh, pumpkin juice," she said unsteadily, hoping that it was a real drink.

"Alright and you, Professor Potter?"

"Bitter beer, thanks."

"Bitter, not butter?" she asked

"When I was a kid, maybe." laughed Harry.

"You're a teacher at Hogwart's?" she asked, "What do you teach?"

"Well, I don't officially teach a class, per se. I teach everything, I start from the very beginning with each… student." This was going to take a lot of explanation. And he really didn't want to do it here, since he really wasn't supposed to discuss the Order's agenda in such a public place. "Can we talk about this later?"

The waitress brought their drinks. The pumpkin juice was pretty much how she expected. It was like drinking a pumpkin pie. Harry's drink definitely smelled of alcohol. She tried to guess his age. Late twenties perhaps. It didn't make sense, he had died at 17, according to the last book she read.

A couple walked in, holding hands and arguing a bit, and she guessed it to be Ron and Hermione, looking nothing like their movie counterparts. Well, neither did Harry really.

"Hey, Harry," said Ron lazily. "How did it go today? Pick up any new students?"

"No. Performed lots of memory charms though. Lupin thinks maybe we should go to Ireland for a few days and see what we can find there. If you wouldn't mind looking after my class, Hermione?"

"No problem. I've been dying to teach them some of these. She held up a book of spells. It might have as well been titled "101 Useless Spells" for all Harry knew.

"It's can only be Defense and Attack now. No time for anything else. I know they want to learn more, but we're on a tight schedule."

"How are you coming with the counter curses?", she asked.

Ugh, he was afraid she was going to ask. Harry had been trying since the age of 18 to come up with counter curses to the three Unforgivables. It never went well. The problem was, of course, the testing phase. Finding volunteers was always difficult. He really thought he had the Imperius Curse counter curse down. It worked on several animals but not on humans for some reason. Harry had volunteered to be the guinea pig for the Cruciatus curse more times than he cared to remember, but something always went wrong. He was sure Hermione said the counter curse right. She was Hermione after all. And it would work at first, but halfway through he would find himself writhing on the ground, trying hard not to black out from the pain. Needless to say, no one, not even Harry would volunteer for the final curse.

"Harry, aren't you going to introduce us?", Hermione asked, motioning to the girl sitting across from Harry.

"Um…this is…is…" Harry stuttered. He suddenly realized he'd never asked her name.

"Claire." The girl said extending her hand to Hermione.

"Uh...yeah" Harry said trying to cover his mistake. For some reason, Harry thought he already knew her name but obviously he didn't. Well, at least the rest of her was familiar, especially her eyes. They were green but not like his. They were very deep set. You had to lean in close and really stare into them to see how beautiful they really were. What a way to draw him in.

Harry quickly sat back, realizing he was leaning too far across the table towards her, almost tipping over his bitter beer. He flushed a little seeing the way Hermione & Ron were staring at him.

"Ah, Harry why don't you just snog her already?" asked Ron.

"Oh God, had the word snog been used in the books?" Harry wondered to himself. He couldn't remember. But when he saw the girl blushing too, he realized it definitely had. It's just a kiss, Harry, grow up. But Harry never felt much like his age, especially around girls. It's as if he'd been stunted ever since the day it happened…the day he died.

"Don't be so juvenile. That word is so stupid." Hermione teased.

"Oh right…kisssss..." Ron purred as he leaned into Hermione kissing her deeply. They would fight a lot but then they'd do something like this, and Harry would think to himself that there was still hope for them.

Harry used to get a jealous at displays like this. Not because he felt that way about Hermione (or Ron for that matter, he thought, snickering to himself) but because ever since Ginny, he'd never been with anyone. Maybe girls were leery of his past, no doubt they'd heard the stories, especially the a night he spent at the Weasley's, when he had freaked out and tried to kill Ginny in her sleep. It was only a few days after the Auror had brought him back. Aurors weren't supposed to do things like that, but Mad Eye wasn't a normal guy. He'd taken a big chance on Harry. You weren't supposed to come back from the dead after all. Whenever it had been tried before, the recently dead tended to go a little mad and usually ended up either killing themselves or someone else. Since Harry, even in his madness, always had a sense of self-preservation, Ginny seemed like the obvious choice.

He had spent the next year in St. Mungo's. He couldn't recall what had happened. Some days he couldn't even remember his own name. Near the end of the year, he started having the dreams, not the nightmares he'd wake up to on most days and nights, but these were actually pleasant. He dreamed about a girl. She never said a word. In fact she never got too close to him in his dream and when he would reach out to her, she would just flitter away and disappear into the haze of waking up. But those were the dreams that brought him back. The ones that made him sane again.

Harry couldn't be sure this was the girl in those dreams, since he'd never gotten close enough to get a good look at her, but it just seemed like her and had from the moment he saw her on the platform. He had always laughed when Professor Trewlany had talked about destiny. She'd even mentioned how wizards and witches were always destined for their mates. He had no idea now why he had thought that had been funny. Looking back hadn't his whole life been determined by destiny? Hadn't he believed in the Prophecy? But destined to be with a Muggle? That was a little weird. That just didn't happen. That hadn't happened for centuries even. It may have happened long ago before the separation, when Wizards and Witches were welcome in the Muggle world, some even revered for their powers. But then came the Enlightened Times when Science decided magic wasn't possible and The Church decided burning was the best way to destroy those who thought it was.

Sure the books said that Hermione was born to Muggle parents and even Harry had been raised by Muggles. But that was one of the things written in the books to draw the Muggles in. Make them think they could actually be a part of this world. It was for the children mainly, the promising recruits. If the children were open to the possibility, they were easier to test.

Harry and Remis Lupin would go out together, sometimes even showing up at Harry Potter events. The parents would think "Isn't is cute. They're testing the kids to see if they can really do magic." Of course, the kids were given real wands to use, and they had been jinxed so that only Remis and Harry could actually see what happened when the wands were waved. Even if they had magical gifts most of the kids were usually a no go since most had parents who might actually miss them.

Occasionally you might happen upon an abused child, one who would be better off somewhere else. Harry was very good at recognizing them. Though luring them away when the parents weren't looking was sometimes hard. It was strange how the most abusive of parents would dote on the kid in public. Usually they would take the child and the parents to a quiet place, memory charm the parents to the point they would forget they ever had children. Harry had such a dislike for this sort of Muggle, he would usually hex them, leaving them infertile, so there was no chance of them hurting anyone again. The kids were usually happy to leave with anyone at that point. Immediately the orientation would begin, all the way to the Order, where there was the final testing and approval given. If it wasn't, another memory charm and Harry had the unpleasant duty of dropping them off at the nearest orphanage.

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Harry and Claire spent the rest of the day in Mr. Fingwid's Bookstore. He wished he could use the library at Hogwart's, but this would have to do, even it was a bit limited. Harry bought as many books as he could gather on magical gifts, especially ones that didn't manifest themselves until adulthood, since Claire seemed so sure she didn't have any. Maybe there were even ones that weren't apparent unless the situation was just right, when the gift was actually needed.

Harry got Claire a room at the White Horse Hotel and they poured over the books in the small room off the lobby. None of the gifts seemed likely. Harry even hissed at her a few times, hoping she might have the gift of Parselmouth. She kept frowning at him though when he did it. OK, he was sure that that was in the books.

Finally she said, "I think so."

"What?" Harry asked.

"I think I would like to see Hogsmeade."

Harry blinked a few times. He hadn't said that. Thought it though. Oh, she can read my mind!

"Are…are you…psychic?", asked Harry. It was such an obvious gift, he hadn't even considered it. Of all the wizarding gifts, Muggles were most likely to claim psychic ability. Even though most of them were full of crap, faking it to make money off the gullible. He'd only met one with a real gift, and she was in his new class.

"Well, I do remember one day sitting in the living room, flipping through playing cards one by one. I guessed the color and face of six cards in a row. I couldn't believe it and went in to tell my mom. She said my great grandmother was psychic and people would come from all over to get advice or to find something they might have lost. Her husband was very religious and forbid her to do it anymore. She was an embarrassment to him."

"Religion", that's the word that stuck in Harry's head. Nothing against Christians if they were all as loving and forgiving as they claimed. But none of Harry's ancestors had seen any love while being tied to stakes or thrown in a river to see if they might float. If they didn't float, they were innocent, but, of course, that also meant they were dead. There was no way to win.

"Um…why didn't you mention you were physic?" asked Harry.

"Because it hasn't happened for a while. I thought it was just a fluke. I couldn't do it again after my mom told me about my Grandma. I think it jinxed me." she said.

"Well, try it now. What am I thinking?" asked Harry.

"No idea." answered the girl.

"How about now?" Harry squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating hard on his thought.

He opened his eyes looking hopeful at her. Surely she got that. She shook her head. Why had she picked up the thought about Hogsmeade and not anything now. Maybe he'd jinxed her too. Great. Now what? What good is having a gift you can't talk about?

"Alright, never mind, " said Harry frustrated. One day was almost up and they didn't feel any closer to discovering anything, especially if her psychic gift was so intermittent. The Ministry would find that pretty worthless. "Let's go and eat. I'm starved and I really need something to … relax."

They walked back to the tavern. When the waitress came, Harry ordered a bitter beer and had to bite his tongue not to tell the waitress to "Keep 'em coming." He didn't want to be so discouraged. But what if he couldn't figure a way for her to stay. She'd go back to a world she didn't want to be in and he would never see her again.

"OK", Harry said trying to calm himself. "Somehow this will work out."

Then Hermione and Ron walked in. "Not now," Harry thought to himself. He noticed Ron was limping and his face looked twisted with pain whenever he stepped on his left foot.

"Ow! Ow! Hermione, be careful." Ron cried out.

"Ron is such a wuss" Harry snickered to himself. He didn't want to be mean, but Ron really seemed to have no tolerance for pain whatsoever. Either that or just loved the attention. Harry was never sure which it was.

Ron propped his leg up on the bench. "The Rangur curse. See?"

Yeah, Harry knew that one. Harry and Draco had exchanged that one quite a bit. The best part of it was, while it caused no permanent damage, it hurt like Hell. And every time you used it against someone it increased the power of it. There was an understanding that the curses would stop when one or the other hit the ground. The record so far was 10x, before Harry's legs buckled under Draco's curses against him. Of course, the only reason Draco hadn't fell before him was because he had leaned far enough against a nearby wall.

"Urrrgh", Ron yelled, after touching his leg slightly.

"Well, don't do that!," Harry laughed. And then tried to look concerned.

"Shut up, Harry." Ron wasn't falling for it.

"In time the pain will stop. Several days, I remember. It's too bad nothing really helps though. You should have seen Madame Pomphrey. She tried everything but only made it worse." Harry recalled.

"Yeah, I know!," Ron whined.

Harry looked at Claire. She looked a little puzzled. She cocked her head and examined the wound. "Can I…touch it?"

"No, are you mad? She's not, is she Harry?" Ron looked petrified.

"It's OK, Ron let her do it." said Harry.

"Whaaa? No!" and tried to move his leg, but Harry grabbed it and held it still, causing Ron to gasp from the pain.

"Let go!" screamed Ron.

"Then hold still," demanded Harry. Harry let go and Ron looked really pissed but didn't move again.

She reached out to Ron cautiously, looking briefly at Harry. His eyes seemed to reassure her. She took a deep breath and put her hand above the wound, not actually touching it, just letting her hand hover over it. Ron leaned way down to look at her hand and his wound close up.

"What is that?" as he saw the faintest blue light emanating from her fingertips. Ron then closed his eyes, "Oh." was all he said. He took a breath and then smiled. The pain was completely gone. So was the wound for that matter. All that remained now was the dried blood. Ron caught the girl's eyes and stared into them. "Thank-you. How did you…"

"A healer." Hermione said, stating the obvious.

"Well, now that's a useful gift." Harry said, beaming. No need to worry now.

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The next day, Harry took Claire to Ollivander's to show off her new-found gift.

"Show me," demanded Ollivander.

Harry took out his wand, making a cut across his arm, flinching a bit. "Go ahead," he nodded to the girl.

Claire let the blue light spread across the wound. Harry took a deep breath. It healed quickly. Usually healing felt awful. At least it always did, when Madame Pomphrey attended to him. But this was quite nice, very comforting. Harry was reminded of something from his past. He remembered having a fever as a baby and his mother had laid a cool hand on his forehead. She sang to him softly. He hoped that was real memory, but he was never really sure.

"Good. But of course you'll still need the Ministry's permission," declared Ollivander

"No. I'll present her to the Order. As far as I'm concerned, what they say always supersedes the Ministry," said Harry.

When Harry arrived home, he sent an owl to set up an appointment with the Order.

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