HARRY POTTER AND THE GOD OF LIES

CHAPTER 1

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Normally one says this about the universe they are writing a story for but, as this is a crossover, I am in the unique and hardly enviable position of saying that neither one of the two brilliant set pieces upon which I have decided to play are my own creation. Nonetheless, I hope you will find the players to be sufficiently like those to which you are accustomed… though I cannot claim perfection in this. And now, if there are no further questions… let the show begin!

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He raised his voice even louder than it had been a moment ago. "It is not my job to see to your amusement!" The aging, bald man was nearly shouting by now.

"You cause nothing but trouble when you're here, and we've had just about enough of you and you antics," said the one on his right.

"I quite agree," the bald one said, speaking again. "We are not playthings here for your enjoyment, but you play with us as you would a rag doll. Why don't you go torment someone who at least stands a chance against you?"

His first inclination, of course, was to say 'no,' to refuse to leave, and to wipe the smirk off the big grumpy one's face. There was nowhere else to go, no group of these people that he ever had so much fun with.

Or so he thought.

Someone in his brain looked up the history of the planet that he so carefully watched, and found an interesting tidbit that hadn't been properly explored. This one detail, however, could open up pathways to new and exciting things. And, of course, he could dole out some revenge for the poor way he was being welcomed.

So he surprised everyone, and he did what he was told. "Very well," he said. "I'll take leave of you. I've found someone else to pal around with – someone I think will be a great deal more fun… and," he added, getting very close to the bald one and lowering his voice, "I'm sure you're going to love the outcome."

And so he disappeared, heading for better places, for more fun, and he knew just where he was going to find it.

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Harry Potter, Wizard, 5th year student, and unwitting hero, wasn't happy. He hadn't really been happy at all in the last few months. He'd had a miserable summer at the Dursleys', had nearly been expelled from Hogwarts, and had, most disconcertingly, felt as if his friends (who were close enough to him to be considered family) had abandoned him. They hadn't sent him any news about what was going on in the Wizarding world, and when he'd finally arrived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix he'd given into all his hurt feelings and shouted at them.

This wasn't the first or the last time he'd done that, either. He and Ron had had a terrible falling out last year, during which they hadn't spoken for several weeks. And just now, provoked by their incessant bickering over lunch, he was on the verge of snapping at Hermione and Ron.

"Oh, shut up, the pair of you! Can't you give it a rest? You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad." He threw down the fork he was eating with, grabbed his bag and stormed away from them.

The anger didn't subside after he'd left… not right away. In fact, in some ways it made him feel good. Serve them right, he thought, why can't they give it a rest . . . bickering all the time . . . it's enough to drive anyone up the wall . . .

Yes, it was enough to drive anyone up the wall. He was completely justified, he thought. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts as he climbed towards the North Tower that he didn't notice when the portrait of Sir Cadogan brandished his sword, or when the knight called, "Come back, you scurvy dog! Stand fast and fight!" He didn't even notice when Sir Cadogan attempted to follow him by running into a neighboring picture, and was told off by the person currently occupying it. The Wolfhound that was meant to be in the picture wasn't there, though. The inhabitant was a man dressed in a truly odd way – by both Muggle and Wizard standards (for each group, on their rare encounters, thought the other to be particularly odd dressers). He was wearing a tight suit of all black with red across the shoulders and a blue collar, and he was wearing jewelry. Four gold studs adorned his right collar, and a badge composed of a silver triangle on a gold rectangle was on his left chest.

"Is the cavalry here already?" He asked Cadogan, seated on his pony, as Harry walked by. "Go on, get. I'm busy," he said, making a 'shoo' motion with his hands.

"Stand and face me, thou wretch! I shall rend thee from head to toe! I shall separate thee from thy body! Face me if thou hast any honor whatsoever!"

The stranger turned to Cadogan and, thinking of the grumpy oaf he'd wanted to smite just an hour ago, said, "You remind me of a Klingon I know," he said, "except worse. In fact, I think I'd prefer his company to your incessant rambling."

"I will not be spoken to in that manner, thou impudent-" But he didn't get to finish, because the stranger snapped his fingers in annoyance as he leaned around to watch Harry's retreating back.

Cadogan ripped off his helmet, mumbling, and put his hands to his mouth, where he quickly realized that his mouth was gone. Not sealed shut – completely missing. The stranger, noticing the knight's bulging, fearful eyes and panic-stricken look, said, "Perhaps next time you'll listen to me! Excuse me, I've got business to see to," he said, and disappeared in a flash of light.

Harry climbed up as far as he could, sitting underneath the trapdoor that led to the Divination room. He sat down in the dust, looking forward to twenty minutes or so of being alone, in the quiet, with nobody to bother him. He was still stewing over the angered feelings he had, and going over it again and again in his head wasn't doing anything to make it go away. In fact, he was growing positively enraged when he heard a voice. "Temper, temper, young man. What would your father say?" It seemed to come from all around him. He couldn't find the source, couldn't see who'd said that.

"Hello? Who's there?"

A brilliant flash of white light made him look away for a fraction of a second, and when he returned his gaze to the room there was a man sitting across from him, also on the floor. Harry had his wand out and pointed at the newcomer in an instant. "Who are you?" He asked.

Not replying to Harry's question, the stranger said, "How long ago were your parents killed? Fourteen years ago? And you're still not over it?"

Something about the way he said these things made the question, despite its dark nature, seem almost playful, not offensive. It caught Harry off guard. "Wh- what?"

"That's what all of this really boils down to, isn't it? A terrible tragedy, no doubt about it, but I think it probably plays into your everyday doings more than you let on." He saw the look of confusion on Harry's face, but he did notice that the wand did not track him as fiercely as it had. "Perhaps I should introduce myself," he said, standing up. "My name is Q."

Harry had absolutely no idea what to do or say at this point. A strangely dressed man has just apparated onto the school grounds (a feat which Hermione continually insisted was impossible), displayed a knowledge of Harry's feelings and history, and finally introduced himself as a letter of the alphabet. Even by Hogwarts' standards this was an odd series of events.

"Not very talkative, are you," Q asked him. Harry made to say something else, but only managed to mumble once again when Q said, "Never mind, don't strain yourself. What is this place?" He asked. A somewhat disdainful look crossed his face after he took a sniff of the air. He walked over to an looked out the window, taking in the sight of the turrets and courtyards of the castle.

"T-T-This… i-i-is… uh… that is… school," Harry finally forced the last word out of his mouth, despite a great jumble of confusion in his brain.

"This is a school? It's not what I'd expect from humans. This is almost… acceptable. So wonderfully unpretentious after Picard's sterilized civility." He turned to Harry. "And you… very capable, very good at what you do… and yet with a certain disregard for the rules." Q seemed to be talking to himself, but that changed when he looked Harry right in the eye and said, more loudly than he had been speaking, "I have a feeling that you and I are going to be good friends. I'll be back later," he said, and he snapped his fingers and disapparated.

The bell rang, and Harry climbed up the silver ladder that led to Divination. He took a seat in the back, not caring about the heat or the smell for once. Ron arrived straight away. He looked around the room and, spotting Harry, headed over to his table.

"Hermione and me have stopped arguing," he said, sitting down beside Harry.

"Good, because-"

"But Hermione says she thinks it would be nice if you stopped taking out your temper on us," said Ron.

"Ron, I-"

"I'm just passing on the message," said Ron, talking over him. "But I reckon she's right. It's not our fault how Seamus and Snape treat you."

"You're right, Ron, you're completely right."

"I am?" said Ron, who had been expecting rather more of a fight.

"Yes, you are, but right now you've got to listen to me! Something happened a moment ago…"

"Wait, where is everyone," Ron asked, noticing that only one other student had come up the ladder. "Hey, how long ago did the bell ring," he called over to the newcomer.

"It hasn't… won't ring for another minute yet. I just needed to ask the Professor something before class so I came early."

"That's odd," said Ron, "I would have sworn I heard the bell."

"So did I," Harry said.

"Something odd is happening here…"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Ron," Harry said. "Something odd is happening. I've just seen-"

Professor Trelawney had begun to pass out books, and when she came by their table, she insisted on some small talk.

"Oh, forget it," Harry said when she walked away, "I'll tell you and Hermione tonight."