Harry Potter and the Magic War

Introduction: So begins my fourth book in the series that began with Harry's Future and will be the first book outside of J.K. Rowling's timeframe. Not sure where it's going to take us but I hope we all enjoy the ride. The chapters will be posted as written but there is no schedule or pattern. Cajoling won't help.

Chapter One:

Harry Potter, Professor of Transfiguration and Deputy Head Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sat astride his broom as he hovered over the wreckage that had been the castle and home of the school for a millennium. What he saw was not the tumbledown ruin that all muggles saw on the rare occasion that one got close enough. This wasn't the work of powerful spells to influence the eyes and minds of non magical folk. What he was seeing was all too evident to his wizard sight.

Nearly two thirds of the structure was now a pile of cracked and blackened stone strewn with smoldering charcoal that had once been the wooden structural and decorative elements he had come to know by memory. The remainder that still stood was soot stained and looked ready to fall at the slightest breeze. Even from where he floated he could see the exposed remains of what were either defenders or attackers, most likely some of each.

His smoke irritated eyes shifted their gaze to the Quidditch stadium, or what remained of it. The mostly wood construction had been reduced to an oval pile of charcoal and ashes. He allowed the broom to drift more in the direction of the stadium. While he hadn't seen most of what had happened to the castle, he was all too well aware of the details of the destruction of the stadium, since he had been the one to orchestrate it.

He had swept in from the east at the point of a wedge of dragons, both greater and lesser, to see the horde that was laying waste to the castle. Someone was either watching or had sensed their approach, because almost as one they had turned and fled toward the stadium. At the sight of the burning ruin, Harry's vision went red with rage and his first blast of Incendio Draco cut a swath through the rear of the enemy.

He had managed to maintain enough of his senses to direct the wing of dragons to circle around the perimeter of the grounds to make sure that no one was going to sneak up on them from behind while they were dealing with those that had sought the refuge of the Quidditch stadium. With projected thoughts he directed the greater dragons to lead the lesser on strafing runs sweeping the pitch and the lower stands while Harry concentrated on those that had taking position in the VIP towers.

He took a perverse delight directing intense balls of dragon fire at the seating areas, watching fragments of wood and attackers fountain in all directions. He was also dismayed to see one of the lesser dragons, a Horntail he thought, go down after getting hit by a barrage of stupefy spells. On the positive side, the stricken creature landed on a relatively untouched section of the stands, crushing anyone beneath it.

As he observed the smoking wreckage he was having trouble recalling how the fight had ended. The dragons were all gone, even the Horntail that had foundered. Every visual detail stood out in sharp relief but he was also having trouble remembering the events that led up to the call to come to the rescue, obviously too late. As he sat there, trying to remember, he felt a headache begin. It was an intense pounding that echoed in his mind. As the headache increased his vision blurred until he realized he was focusing on a knot in a beam above his head.

He was lying on his back in his bed in the small castle room that he used two nights a week. Some would say he was having a bad dream but he thought not. When he looked at the magical photo that Abagail had arranged for all those years ago, he was sure, because the only ones left in the picture were Ginny and Abagail, and they were crouched down behind the chair that his image would normally occupy.

The pounding that he thought was a headache turned out to be someone hammering on his door. He called out in a hoarse voice, possibly the result of the smoke, he thought.

"What is it?"

"Professor, you're needed at the front entrance, sir. Professor Sprout said you're to come right away."

"Alright. I'll be along shortly," he replied, hauling himself out of bed.

It took him a bit more than five minutes, but certainly not ten, to be hurrying from his room, his wrinkled robe flying out behind him. At least he hadn't had to take the time to comb his hair; it wouldn't have done any good anyway. When he got to the entrance foyer he saw the Headmistress, Professor Sprout, several other members of the faculty, and Stan Shunpike, the Caretaker.

"Ah, Harry. It seems we've had another incident," Professor Sprout began, "and this time with a more lasting effect."

As she said this she indicated the stone work that surrounded the large heavy leaves that were the main entry doors to the castle. Heavy cracks ran along the mortar joints for feet in all directions except for the floor. Some fragments and dust were visible at the base of the wall. While it didn't look like it was ready to collapse, the damage was worrisome.

"Stan, will you make whatever arrangements are necessary to make the repairs, and to route the students away from the doors until they are completed, please."

"Yes, ma'am. Right away."

"Harry, if you'd come with me, please."

"Yes, Professor."

The walk to the Head's office was made in silence. Harry was under no illusions about what was coming. He and the Head had already had several discussions about previous incidents. Whatever was happening, this was the first time that any actual lasting effects were observed. This, of course, was making a bit of a leap in logic, but to date he had had four such episodes. Each one was more vivid and detailed than the last and had had some effect on the Hogwarts grounds, from flashing lights to loud noises. And each one had taken place when Harry was staying the night at the school. Nothing like it happened while he was sleeping at home.

"Have a seat, Harry."

Not at sound came from any of the many portraits of the former Heads. Harry found this a bit unsettling. Usually the Heads were more than willing to throw their two knuts into any conversation. By the time Harry had been called in for his third discussion with Professor Sprout, no one had anything to say. In fact, Professor Dumbledore had been absent for the last two. He and Harry had their discussions in private.

"What was it this time, Harry?"

"The complete destruction of Hogwarts. The castle was basically a pile of rubble and the stadium burned to the ground. It was a war zone. The attackers did for the castle. I'm afraid I was responsible for the stadium. Well, me and the dragons," he explained.

Her expression invited further explanation. By the time he was done her expression was a mix of exasperation and resignation.

"Harry, you are unquestionably one of the finest teachers ever to walk the halls of Hogwarts and your administrative skills are unsurpassed. But along with all that you also embody some of the strangest, and yes, frightening aspects of magic I can imagine. As much as I hate to say this, until we can figure out what's going on here, I'm going to have to ask that you not spend any more nights at the school. I have the safety of the students and the rest of the faculty to consider here."

"I understand, Professor. I was thinking along those lines myself."

"Have you come up with any ideas on why this is happening, Harry?"

"Not really, Professor. It doesn't fit with anything I've experienced in the past. I've been digging through the Tome but nothing yet."

"Well, fortunately today is Friday. So go home after classes are over and see what you can come up with. We'll see what we can do about keeping the castle from falling down around us," the Headmistress said with a small smile.

Harry smiled in return but his looked much more strained. His first task for the day was to get to the faculty table for breakfast. While no longer under the influence of the dragon where his eating habits were concerned, he still had a tendency to wake up hungry. Students were streaming in through the back entrance while the other professors were making their way up onto the dais. Bill clapped Harry on the shoulder as he took his seat.

"Again?" Bill asked simply.

"Yes, the worst yet."

"Harry, do you think that you should go see Dr. Medford?"

"I dunno, Bill. I don't even know if he's still practicing. I can't imagine he'd ever come across something like this."

"Maybe, but at least it would be a place to start. I saw what happened in the foyer," Bill said.

"I'll think about it. The boss asked me not to spend any more nights at the castle until we figure out what's going on."

"So you think it's tied to the castle itself?"

"It's the only place it's happened, Bill. I'd think that means something."

Bill simply nodded as the food began to appear on the table. Harry took the opportunity to break off the conversation as he filled his plate. As he began to eat rather mechanically he looked out over the students. They were already six weeks into the term and the young witches and wizards had settled into their routines. He looked down and saw his second son, Albus, sitting at the junior end of the Ravenclaw table.

Harry had to smile as he thought back on the sensation that that had created. No sooner had the Sorting Hat shouted out 'Ravenclaw' while perched on Albus' head then a collective gasp went up from the student body. Poor Albus looked terrified which quickly turned to confusion when he saw his father wink at him and with a nod of his head direct his son to take his place at the Ravenclaw table. Harry had looked over at the Gryffindors to see his oldest son and two nieces looking on in stunned amazement. James had jumped to his feet, his face one big question mark.

As Harry thought back on that night he remembered the conversation he had with Albus. His son had sought him out after he had been taken to his home away from home for the next seven years.

"Dad, I'm so sorry," the boy had blurted out as soon as he hurried up to his father.

"Why, son?"

"I didn't get into Gryffindor. Aren't you upset?" Albus asked.

"Not at all, son."

"But why not?"

"Come with me, Albus," Harry said as he led his son to a window embrasure where he could lean on the extended sill. "You'll remember the discussion we had when you were so upset by the things your brother was saying about you being sorted in Slytherin house, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"This is no different. I said you'd do great things no matter where you were placed. When you think about it, you're more suited to Ravenclaw house than any student I've ever come across. I suspect Rose will be right there with you but that doesn't change anything."

"Thanks, Dad, I mean, sir, but aren't Potters supposed to be Gryffindors? And what about the Weasley side of me?" Albus asked, still not convinced.

Harry smiled and chuckled a bit.

"Son, no one is 'supposed' to be anything around here. That's one of the reasons for the Sorting Hat. Its magic gets us past the idea of family traditions and all that. Take a look at your Aunt Hermione. Based solely on what anyone knew about her as an eleven year old, she would have most likely wound up in Ravenclaw. But the hat saw past that to what she had inside. What I'm saying, son, is trust the Hat and look forward to a great experience and know that I'm more than happy with how things have turned out."

Harry returned his focus to his son sitting there, seemingly oblivious to the scrutiny. The boy was involved in a quiet but intense conversation with his cousin and one other young witch. Harry assumed it was something related to their studies. It generally was. Just yesterday, Professor Paracelsus, the Potions teacher, had commented to Harry that Albus had made a few suggestions about how some of the equipment they were using could be improved.

Then he regarded the Gryffindor table, which contained the rest of the Weasley Clan Kids currently enrolled at Hogwarts. James, now a fourth year, was holding a long distance conversation with Kai, his girlfriend who was on the opposite side of the table down with the other six years. Harry was still amazed at how the relationship between the two had developed and it made him wonder at times if James was truly his son, considering his own dismal history with the opposite sex during most of his time as a student.

By concentrating on his children and nieces and nephews, he was able to keep recent events from completely ruining his breakfast. He also had a full day of classes to look forward to so he wouldn't have to give his 'dreams' any consideration until he got home. In fact, when he got home that evening, he found he didn't have much time for any real thinking, since guests for dinner were expected and he had to hurry to get cleaned up and presentable.

It wasn't anything extravagant, with just Hermione and Ron and Hugo. When he asked what the occasion was, Ginny simply gave him a look that suggested no real reason was forthcoming, or needed, while she made sure everything was in order. As it turned out, it couldn't have been better timed. After an excellent meal, prepared by Nibs, served by Dinkle and supervised by the elderly Kreacher, Harry and Ron retired to the library for a game of chess.

"This dream business still giving you trouble, Harry?" Ron asked after commanding his queen's knight into a new position.

"Yes, in fact. Had another one last night. The most vivid one yet," Harry replied, giving a bit of a shrug.

"You're starting to worry me, mate," Ron said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I don't know, Ron. I don't think it's all that bad, really. Although Professor Sprout is a bit worried about the damage around the main doors this time. I just need to figure it out."

Ron gave Harry a quizzical look so he explained the latest episode to his best friend. When Harry was done Ron leaned back in his chair and studied Harry for a few moments and then said,

"That's not what I meant. I was thinking more that you've been a professor for too long. All those books and lessons and such have muddled your mind. If you were still a copper, you'd have this sorted out. Maybe not solved, but at least a lot clearer up here," Ron said, tapping his forehead.

"Are you suggesting I'm becoming an absent minded professor?"

"Answer me this. Am I right to say that you've confided in me about all the things that have happened to you as far as your visits to strange places, like where you see Dumbledore and such?"

"Yes, I have."

"Alright then. So lets review the evidence, chief," Ron said with a smirk. "When ol' snake face hit you with the killing curse just before the last battle, you went somewhere and talked with Dumbledore. When you almost killed yourself fighting the dragon, you had those visits with Dumbledore, Fred and Sirius. You went into the flows several times and then you had that meeting with Mr. Evil as you called him. And now you're having these dreams or whatever you call them."

"Alright, that's brief but accurate."

"Don't you think it's all related? Isn't the pattern obvious? Harry, for whatever reason, you seem to have a talent to move around in these, I don't know, shadow places. Don't people sometimes talk about extra dimensions and stuff? Angus could probably explain it better than me."

"Maybe, but I doubt I'd understand what he was explaining," Harry said. "And what about the damage?"

"What about it? You pretty well wrecked the meadow that time and when you were in the flows all kinds of things happened. The roof of the chamber blew off and Black Sea School lost that tower. My point is, mate, you seem to be able to go where the rest of us can't follow and what you do there has consequences here. Maybe it's tied to those old ones or maybe it's something new, but I think it's something you need to pay attention to, but like a copper."

After their guests had left for their own home, Harry and Ginny sat in the living room, with Harry looking out the large window overlooking the front garden and the meadow.

"So you'll be coming home every night, Harry?"

"Until we figure this thing out, yes," he replied, looking over at her. "It's funny, you know. Ron and I were talking before and he said I needed to start thinking like a cop again."

"How so?"

"He suggested I needed to start looking at evidence, put the small pieces together, follow where it leads and stop trying to jump to the answer."

"That seems to make some sense," she said. "Do you have anything to start with?"

"We talked through some things and he gave me some ideas. One thing that we know is that this latest business only seems to be happening when I'm at the school."

"Well, that's hopeful. At least I won't have to worry about you pulling the house down on top of us," Ginny said with a straight face.

Harry glared at her a bit and then continued.

"One of the things I'll need to do is try to find out if there's something about the school that might be influencing my dreams."

"Do you really think that they are dreams, sweetheart?"

"Certainly not normal ones at the very least, no, but it's a convenient description. I'll see what the other Professors can tell me, maybe the ghosts as well. It's a reach but I've got to start somewhere," he said.

"What other ideas do you have?" she asked.

"What makes you think I have others?"

"Good grief, Harry. Maybe Ron is right and you are getting a little soft in the head," she said with a little grin. "In the old days you would have had several avenues of investigation to follow. I remember you once saying something about not getting fixated on one idea early in an investigation."

"Wait a minute. Weren't you the one that was so adamant about me giving up the life of a copper? Now you're giving me a hard time because I don't think like one anymore?" he asked indignantly.

"Harry, I didn't want you living the life of a policeman, or dying as one. I never said there was anything wrong with you thinking like one," she said airily.

Harry was pretty sure that she had said something to that effect once or twice but decided that now wasn't the time for that discussion.

"As it happens I do have a couple of questions for two elderly wizards and one big one for a certain young maths wizard. But I wouldn't want to call them avenues. More like wild speculation at this point," he replied.

"That's more like my Harry," she said, her smile more genuine as she reached out to squeeze his hand.

The questions for the two elderly wizards, as he described them, came that night as he lay in a mild doze in bed. With his mind's eye he looked into the swirling gray mist.

"Sirs, are you there. Professor? Merlin?"

"Harry?" came the familiar voice of his mentor. "One moment, dear boy."

Out of the mist stepped the still tall figure of Professor Dumbledore followed by the shorter but no less impressive seeming Merlin, most fabled of all wizards and Harry's benefactor.

"Young Harry, so good to see you. Is this a social visit or have you some mystery for us to ponder?" Merlin asked.

"A mystery of sorts, but one you're all too familiar with," Harry replied, gesturing to their surroundings.

"What do you wish to know, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"I need to find out more about these places where I find myself, Professor. Like here, or where we talked when I was close to dying."

"It would seem, young Harry, that you find yourself in some new difficulties. Perhaps you'd care to enlighten us?" Merlin asked.

So Harry, not knowing what Dumbledore may have shared with Merlin, and needing to bring the latest experience into the discussion, explained the recent series of 'dreams' and how they had some form of physical impact in the here and now. As he usually did when he was explaining some happening or other to one or both of these gentlemen, he was paying close attention to their expressions. Both looked a bit somber and it didn't help when they looked at each other and then held a whispered conversation. When they were finished the two wizards returned to regarding Harry and Dumbledore said,

"Harry, as you might imagine, my ancient and learned friend and I have had a great deal of time to discuss our favorite topic, that is, you."

"Yes, sir," Harry said with a smile. "I believe you've mentioned that once or twice."

"Of particular interest has been this very phenomenon. Since it is at the heart of our continued association with you, dear boy, we've done our very best to come to some understanding. Firstly, we don't believe that what you experience when you sleep is connected to what you've found in the flows. The flows, or leylines, are after all a manifestation of our physical world."

Harry had a sudden flashback to his student days and then had to wonder if this had anything to do with what Ron was talking about. Was this how he sounded these days?

"So, Harry, after a great deal of thought and discussion, Merlin and I have come to the conclusion they you, my boy, are a form of focal point, or perhaps a pivot, around which some form of inter dimensional or multi planar occurrences have been eventuating."

Harry blinked a time or two and said,

"Sir?"

Merlin laughed as Dumbledore smiled and said,

"Forgive the jest, Harry. Simply put, we think that as a result of all the things that have happened to you, you've become a conduit of sorts. Your journeys of the mind provide a path back into the real world, as it were."

"Has this sort of thing ever happened before, that you know of, sirs?"

"Well, young Harry, I do recall a tale of a shaman from the eastern reaches. It was said that he could go into a trance so deep that he would leave his physical body behind and his mind would be free to roam the various planes of existence. Truth be told, I always thought it had more to do with various herbs and fungi, but since meeting you I'd have to imagine there may be more to it."

"So, now all I have to do is figure out how to investigate my dreams," Harry said.

"Isn't it true, Harry, that an entire muggle profession is dedicated to that idea?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded once and said,

"I wonder if Dr. Medford is still around."

But then he had another thought.

"These last occurrences as you called them; they seemed so much more real. Is it possible that these things are really happening? Or will happen? Could there be some sort of big fight coming?"

"That, Harry, I'm afraid we can't help you with. We don't know what will be, we aren't even sure what is, we can only make the best guess we can."

"Yes, sir, I understand."

After a few words of farewell, Harry drifted deeper into sleep, glad he was home and fairly confident that he wouldn't have to deal with any more dreams. Harry wasn't the only one worried about what was happening. That morning at Hogwarts, conversations about Harry, either as an uncle or a father were taking place at both the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables.

"So how was he looking yesterday, Rose?"

"He seems to be doing fine, Albus. His aura is strong and steady. He could probably use a little more sleep. I'd guess he's still having some problems. Something to do with dreams," Rose said.

"How did you hear about that?"

"Weasley telegraph. But not directly. Mum put a few bits in her last couple of messages and I just put them together. Plus there was all that fuss about what happened by the main entrance. I'm thinking it might be something like what happened to the meadow that time," Rose said.

"Terrific. Do you think the others know anything about it?" he asked, looking over his cousin's shoulder to look at the rest of the Weasleys and his brother.

"Are their heads together and they're talking?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then yes they do and they're trying to figure out what they can do about it, Merlin help him," she said, her expression grim.

With overloud whispers, hand signals and one or two pieces of parchment, the WCKs were trying to get a handle on the latest issue to confront Harry. James was fighting a desperate rear guard action, bluntly telling the others to mind their own business. His older cousin Victoire countered with the observation that Harry's welfare was the business of all of them. Fred and Dominique were leaning in Vee's direction but suggesting that they be cautious, based on previous experience. Kai was backing her boyfriend, telling her friend and dorm mate they didn't have the best record when it came to 'helping' Professor Potter.

"How can you possibly say that?" Vee responded.

"Easy," James said from down the table. "We got rid of that Osborne kid last year and all the trouble he was causing. How about we let Da get through this year without a major catastrophe, alright?"

Both Vee and Domi began to sputter their indignant response but Kai cut them off.

"James, sweetheart, that wasn't very nice. That poor boy suffered a great deal in a short time and you should be a little more charitable."

"He made life very difficult for Da and you know it. And he's gone off who knows where. Don't know why I'm the one who's supposed to be charitable."

Kai's response was to say nothing. Instead she chose to do something that was causing James a lot of trouble lately. She fixed him with those big, dark eyes and pouted. James groaned and rolled his eyes. Domi giggled while Vee looked at her diminutive friend and mouthed,

"That's terrible."

Shaking his head, James looked down the table at his older cousin and said,

"Will you at least promise not to do anything until you're sure of what's going on?"

Victoire pursed her lips and then nodded,

"I guess that makes sense. And you promise not to tell your father what we've been talking about. I don't want to have another lecture about how he'll send me home like he did with Teddy and me."

James nodded in response, knowing that without the guiding, and devious, hand of Ted Lupin, Vee would show her hand all to soon. He looked at Kai and winked, which set her off in gales of laughter, which drew a puzzled glance from Vee. When the small girl was finally able to stop laughing, Kai wiped the tears from her cheeks and then stood up.

"Come on. We have a match to fly this morning, remember?"

When they met up at the rear entrance to the Great Hall Kai took hold of James' arm and kissed his cheek. As they walked she said,

"It really is a wonderful thing, the way you watch out for your dad, sweetheart, but try not to let it bother you. Think how happy he'd be if you told him on Monday that you shut out the Slytherins today."

He looked over and down at her and said,

"Oh, sure. Make me do all the work."

This got a chuckle from them both and arm in arm they went forth to do aerial combat with the much despised enemy, those of the snake sign. Elsewhere, another member of the reptile family, one far more noble, was dealing with issues of his own.

"How long will I have to stay here, Mr. Dragon?" Trevor Osborne asked.

"As long as required for you to become ready for your task," the dragon replied, the words sounding clearly in the vaults of the mind he had found so strange during his last visit to the wizard school.

"But what is my task?" the boy asked in confusion.

"That I do not know."

"Then how will I know if I'm ready for it?"

"That also is beyond my knowledge, young one."

"I wish Professor Potter was here. I bet he'd know," Trevor said quietly.

"At this point in time, I would doubt that. But I suspect that that will change," the Dragon said.

"Do you think my task will have something to do with the Professor? I'd like to be able to help him after all that help he gave me."

"Of that, young one, I am sure, and I am sure the answer is yes."

The boy relaxed as he leaned back against the massive forepaw and resumed listening to the voice in his mind as it explained things to him in a language he had never heard before, but which he understood perfectly.