Disclaimer: I do not own anything even close to related to Harry Potter or any other trademarked recognizable franchise. All rights belong to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and all respective authors.

Prologue: The Rise of the Heir

Harry James Potter had never been normal. but that was a given, since he was, after all, a wizard. However, even for a wizard, normality had been one of the few things he'd never been accused of. And he had been accused of a lot. But then again, that had only cemented his opinion of the wizarding world. Most were sheep. But then again, he hadn't had enough experience with mundane folk to know whether that was just human nature or not. He thought so, though.

However, there was a certain level of abnormal that was too much even for him. Saving the Philosopher's Stone at 11? Sure, all in a day's work. Kill a Basilisk at 12? Why ever not? Learning the Patronus Charm at 13? Well that's just to be expected. And it was completely unnecessary to even mention he had defeated a hundred Dementors wit a single Patronus (once again, at 13), that just went without saying.

But his Patronus was most definitely not supposed to turn into a man.

Nope, even for him, that might have been a bit too much.

Harry's Patronus (who he already called Prongs without really thinking about it) had just defeated over a hundred Dementors near the Black Lake. Now it just hovered near him. Harry knew he had to hurry up, because he had to get out of there before Snape woke up or whoever had found them before the time-turner trip came. And because he had to find Hermione and Buckbeak so they could save his godfather (dogfather? whatever...) from getting Kissed.

But apparently, Prongs had other plans.

Before his very eyes, Harry saw his snow white Stag Patronus begin to shine like a miniature white sun, before remolding itself into a tall, bulky man with fierce red hair and beard with a headband around his hair, wearing a white Greek toga and brown sandals, with a proud grin shining on his face. he shined with white light, but it was clear that his skin was abnormally white even for a British wizard, with or without the bright glowing.

-Great job! I hadn't seen such a good Patronus in over six decades, and I should know, I invented the Hades-damned spell!

"Yep, definitely not normal even for me", Harry thought.

The man explained himself, telling the young wizard in front of him that his name was Andros, sometimes known as The Invincible. That reminded Harry of a chocolate frog card he'd seen of someone called "Andros the Invincible", who had lived in Ancient Greece and had not only mastered wandless magic, but also been famous for being able to produce a Patronus the size of a Giant.

Andros seemed pleased he was still in the chocolate frog cards (which reminded Harry a lot of Dumbledore... which was just creepy), but was a little grumpy on the particulars. "I invented he damn spell", he mumbled, along with "Giant? More like Dragon-sized, but what would these people know?". It was amusing, but a little confusing as well for Harry.

-I'm sorry to interrupt, but why did you appear?

-Ah, that, right, sorry. I get a little distracted sometimes. And no, Death doesn't cure it, I can tell you that much for certain. But moving on, I'm here because you just mastered the Patronus Charm before sixteen, which is impressive, by the way. And like I said, great job with those Dementors! You must have kicked them all the back to Azkaban from here! But I digress.

-You do that a lot.

-I'm dead. Sue me, I dare you.

-Fair enough.

-As I was saying, I'm here because you mastered the Patronus Charm before your sixteenth birthday. Typically, that would be great, but you wouldn't get more than a kudos, and certainly not a house call from yours truly. However, you're not quite typical, are you?

-Circumstances would argue against it.

-Pretty much. Well, lad, congratulations from your Great-great-keep-repeating-that-for-a-few-minutes-grandfather.

Harry was dazed for a few seconds, but his experiences had not been for naught after all, and within five seconds he was already shouting:

-WHAT? YOU'RE MY ANCESTOR? HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE, I'M NOT GREEK!

He would probably have ranted a bi more but Andros shut him up with a gesture and said:

-I know it's probably a lot to take in, but hear me out, alright? My name, as I've said, is Andros. I was born in Greece, in the isle of Crete, some twenty-eight hundred years ago. I was the son of an barbarian outsider from the North and a young woman disowned by her parents because she didn't want to marry. She ended up marrying my father. I know, it doesn't make much sense, but I never even knew my father's name, as he died when I was three and my mother preferred to never speak of him again. I was never told much about my parents' past. My mother died five years later herself. Her name was Europa, and I never forgot her.

I lived by myself in the wilds for three years. I didn't know it then, but it was my magic that made me live that long. I could heal, I could move faster, I could vanish into thin air to escape danger, and I could keep myself warm. It was how I learned to use a dagger and a bow, at least to a basic level that I needed to hunt. I actually nicked both thee the bow and the dagger from a huntsman when he wasn't looking. I stole arrows whenever I could.

Then I was found by the blacksmith of Ierapetra, and he took me in, since he was a childless widower. He taught me to read and write, to work a forge, to count, and to properly hold a sword. Good old Alyosha... He was my father even more than my birth parent. But he wasn't my mentor, that was my "grandfather figure", or whatever he was. Ptolemy was never easy to categorize, the old barmy coot.

Ptolemy was Egyptian. I never knew what his real name was, but I always knew him as Ptolemy. He found me When I was thirteen, bullied by older boys for my heritage and appearance. You see, Harry, I got my father's height and build, his skin (which was whiter than any Greek's) and his hair and beard, and my mother's face and eyes. This made me unusual, and people don't like those who are different. He found me, healed me, and when realizing I had incredible magical potential decided to take me on as an apprentice.

And so, for years, I learned how to use magic through a staff like my mentor. But I never forgot Alyosha, and when the old blacksmith died I was fifteen and already a proficient smith. My magic sang in tune with the metal, you see, so for me it was akin to meditation. But the opinion of the people against me didn't change. And on the eve of my sixteenth birthday, I snapped at an attempt to bully me. I almost maimed several of my bullies, before my teacher found me and stopped me. I didn't want to stop, but Ptolemy was over two hundred years old, and I was almost like a bug compared to him. He incapacitated me without knocking me out and erased the memories of the other boys. Then he sat me down and told me: "Andros, I know. I know it's hard, and that you didn't deserve what was this town's treatment of you. And maybe they deserved what you were about to dish out. But remember, everything you do will have an effect on you and the world around you. You cannot affect only one. So think. Did you deserve to deal with the aftermath on your very nature that you would have to deal with if I hadn't stopped you? I can no longer allow this, child. You are an infant compared to me, but that does not change the fact that you will soon be a man. You must choose the kind of man you'll be, or let the world choose for you. I will not teach you any further until you have made that decision. But understand that the path you almost took with those boys is not one I will condone. I will not force you to be who you do not want to be, young one, but I will not help you along such a road. So ponder this, and come dawn tomorrow let me know, as a sixteen year old, as a man, what path you have taken. Will you take the dark path of revenge? Or the light path of mercy?"

Which do you think I took?

Harry was somewhat lost in his ancestor's story, so he took a little while to even realize he been asked a question. When he did, he thought long and hard, but couldn't come up with an answer. And he told Andros so. The Greek merely smiled and said:

-It's alright, my descendant, you still have time. You will take that choice yourself when you reach the eve of your sixteenth birthday.

-Why? Because I've already mastered the Patronus?

-Exactly! As my heir and one who has that power at your age, the night before your sixteenth birthday dawns upon you, you will face me in your dreams, and you will be given the choice, as I was. Mayhap when you're older you'll know my choice. Maybe you'll take it yourself!

-But then why are you telling me this now?

-Because your Patronus was too great an opportunity to meet you, and I wanted to size you up. Either way, you will forget this until the day before your sixteenth birthday.

Harry looked at his ancestor, and could only think of asking:

-When?

-In a couple minutes. Is there nothing you want to ask?

Harry thought for a minute, before answering.

-Actually, there is. I said I didn't know which path you'd taken. But why do I get the feeling you took neither?

Andros grinned from ear to ear, and simply said:

-I expect great things from you, kid!

Then he vanished. And Harry shook his head, not remembering anything about Andros or what had just happened, and turned away to go save his Godfather.

Sirius was flying away on Buckbeak, thinking of his Godson. Harry was incredible. He was every bit his father's son, and his mother's even more, if possible. yep, totally justified his decision to make Harry the Black Heir. Although... Mastering the Patronus had been unexpected. And if his family legends were to be believed (and as a wizard, Sirius' limits to what he believed a wizard could do were few and quite high), then the kid's life might become even more difficult... Or not. It was too unpredictable too say for sure.

-Sirius, you will not see his Choice in your lifetime. When your time is close, and you will know when it is, make the portrait and the will. I will tell what you need to know then."

Sirius shivered. He knew what that voice in his mind was. His family legends were true after all.

"Sorry pup. I guess I won't be able to help you for long. And your life will get even harder after I can no longer help in the flesh".

A/N: So, here is the beginning of The Heir of Andros. This will be Grey Harry, with Harry not siding with either side of the war. I'm still deciding whether he will actually take part in it or just wait until Voldie comes to him. No pairings at this point. There will be slight Dumbledore bashing, and the bashing of Hermione and Ron will be slightly heavier, mainly Ron's. They won't have manipulated him, they're just not good friends and completely inadequate for a Harry that makes the choice he does and doesn't pretend to be less than he is. Harry will be going to Hogwarts. If you have any suggestions please review.

Also, Andros is canon, he is shown in a chocolate frog card, but other than that there is no real information about him. So I decided it would be fun to use him and develop the character.

Anyway, that's it for me. Idovelicus over and out, read and review, please!