I just had to get this off my shoulders! Enjoy! Takes place just before the end of Seeres of Kell and Sorcerers Stone Achtung! Warning! Danger! Danger! Red Alert! Profuse amounts of Time Skips sighted! If you no likey, you no ready!

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Belgarion, King of Riva, Overlord of the West, and Wielder of the Orb, clutched his head in agony. Through tearing eyes, he watched Errand, or to be precise, Eriond, recently proclaimed god, and Child of Light, push the pulsating Orb of Aldur into the Sardion. Light flashed through the crystal cavern in the high places of Korim. The world shook, mountains fell, seas heaved. The Sardion trembled. The Orb's brother, finally making the fatal contact with his blue sibling, shuddered one last time, and exploded. Flaming, luminescent shards of the red stone blasted skywards, tearing a hole in the ceiling of the cavern.

"No-!" Zandramas held out her arms pleadingly, the light held within her struggled to release itself. "Belgarion! Save m-!" With one last shudder, she shattered, the pinpricks of light contained within her body following the fragments of the Sardion. Belgarion slowly looked up. He raised his head, looking for the exultant faces of Aunt Pol, Belgarath, Durnik, anybody! Instead what met his eyes, was blue. Blue, isn't really the best term for it. To Belgarion's eyes, he saw more of a miasma, of every shade of what is known as ' blue', from the deepest Lapis Lazuli, to the palest periwinkle.

"Hello?" He called out. Again, with his mind, 'Hello?'

'Hello Belgarion' Belgarion jumped, startled.

'Is that you, Purpose? (It is no longer a prophecy, 'cause they just won.'

'Yes,' The familiar dry voice almost chuckled, 'Your task is not yet complete, child.'

'Aw, come on! I'm all-'

'Not where you're going.' The voice interrupted, 'You are needed in another time, another place. You were my finest Child as of yet,' Belgarion grinned, 'Stop that! I'm trying to be serious! Anyway, I need you to go somewhere-'

'Where?'

'Why do you never let me finish?' The voice complained, 'I was going to explain it to you, but I guess ill just take you there and figure it out.' Belgarion frowned. He never explained anything.

'You're right. I don't' Belgarion was about to reply, when his surroundings flashed, and everything went dark.

----The Burrow----

"Ron! Get the bloody door!"

"Shut it, Fred! You know that you're closer!"

"I am not bloody closer! And I'm George!"

"No you're not!"

"SHUT UP!" The bickering redheads turned. "Both of you will get the door, and that's final!" Mrs. Weasly said, voice calming. Ron and Fred, or was it George? Well, anyway, Ron and one of the twins went to answer the door. Ron walked up to the door, and pulled. Stuck.

"Oi! Fred! George! Whoever you are! A little help here!" The twinned redhead grumbled, and went to help Ron. With a heave, the door popped open, and a boy, about eleven years old, fell inside. Fred, (or George) grabbed him under the armpits, and slowly lowered him to the ground. The boy coughed once, and spoke.

"Hi. I'm Garion." He coughed again, and fell unconscious.

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Garion blinked once, twice. He slowly sat up, only to be immediately pressed back into his bed. Wait, bed? When did he get into a bed? He looked up into the stern face of a redheaded lady. Garion cringed. She bore an eerie resemblance to his wife.

"Uh, hi?" He said nervously. The woman's face softened.

"Hello to you, too." She said in a warm voice. "Are you hungry?" Garion sighed. At least she was nicer than Ce'Nedra.

'Comfortable, Garion?' Garion jumped.

'Why yes. But first things first. Where the hell am I?'

'Well,' The voice almost pouted, 'You never let me explain that, did you.'

'Just tell me!' Exasperation showed in Garion's mind-voice.

'No.'

'Why?'

'It's easier that way. I'm going to take over for a few seconds. Bye' Garion didn't even have time to cry out, as he was shunted to the back of his own mind. He looked up to see the frantic face of the woman from earlier.

"Are you okay? You just went silent for about five minutes!" 'Yeah' Garion thought, 'I was having a little conversation with the Universe inside my head'

"I was just...thinking." Garion, or rather, the Purpose, said. The lady looked relieved.

"Oh thank goodness! By the way, you can call me Mrs. Weasly. Now, what are you doing all the way out here?" "The Purpose cleared it's throat, and spoke.

"Well, my mother, Ildera Ryva, just passed away," Garion's face contorted into a look of deep melancholia, "and right before she died, she gave me this letter here," The Purpose reached under the covers and willed a small parchment letter into existence, "said something about Hogwarts, and, well, told me to come here." Mrs. Weasly frowned.

"I'm afraid I don't know anyone named Il-" Garion's eyes glowed blue, Mrs. Weasly stiffened. "Ildera! Oh, that poor thing! Goodness! I am so sorry! Hogwarts, you say? Wonderful! Little Ronnie-kins is going, and he'll have someone his own age to talk too!" Garion frowned as the Purpose left him. Same age? He looked down at himself. Or, rather what he looked like as an eleven year old.

'Hey!' He cried out, What's going on? Did I-'

'What does it look like?' The Purpose interrupted, 'You needed to be younger for this task. Try thinking for once.' Garion humphed, and withdrew to reality.

"Well, I guess I should better meet Ron..."

----- -----

A tree swayed. A breeze blew. The sun shone. Two boys washed dishes. To be more precise, they were also washing pots, pans, an oversized griddle, several large cauldrons, two smaller ones, and the oven.

'Why does my mother make me wash the dishes?' One boy, the redhead, thought.

'Why,''The other boy, hair a dirty blond, thought, 'after traveling through space and time, to who knows where, and getting stuck in my pre-pubescent form, am I stuck washing dishes?'

"Oi! Garion!" One boy, the redhead, said, "How do you do this so well?"

"Well," The other boy, hair a dirty blond, said, "I did this a whole lot where I lived."

"And where was that?"

Flash

"A little town north of Buckingham-shire, why?"

"Just wondering. He, are you going to Hogwarts?"

"Hog what now?"

"Hogwarts! Wait. Your mum was a Witch, right? Or your pa a Wizard?" Garion cringed. Witches were okay. Vordai was kind of creepy, but Wizards? A blatant insult!

"My mum wasn't a witch, but I did know one...."

"Who was it?"

"Her name was Vordai." This time, Ron cringed.

"Not the Vordai?"

"What do you mean, 'the' Vordai?"

"S'who my mum used to read about to get me to fall asleep! The dread witch of the fens of old, trapping handsome men and having the creatures of the swamp do her bidding!" Garion's eyes widened.

"Um, maybe just named after her?"

"That makes sense." They continued to work in silence for a time, scrubbing away. Every once and a while, they would chat about simpler things. The weather. The continuous stream of jays taking perch on the windowsill, looking for a meal. The shape of the clouds outside the window. Twilight came, and the dishes were done. Up in his room, Garion fantasized about the many things he could have done, other than wash someone else's dishes.

----- ------

Sunrise. The golden glow of the heavenly sphere lit up the Burrow, that tall, ramshackle structure. It also rather unceremoniously woke up Garion. It did not wake him up the way sunrise usually does, that being shining onto the face and disturbing the eyes. No, this time, it was a little more...inflammatory.

"AH!" Garion jumped off the bed, and began rolling on the floor. You see, when the sun rose, a ray or three reflected off the wall mirror, across the room, through a glass paperweight, and permeating a decorative magnifying glass. And when focused on a corner of Garion's bedclothes, a very interesting effect was produced. "Go Out." Garion commanded, steel in his voice. The small flame obliged, and Garion took a sigh of relief. "That could have been bad..."

---------

"You never did tell me about your pa..." Garion looked up, mouth full of this cereal...stuff. It had been a little hard to get used to this food.

"What do you want to know about him?"

"Was he a wizard?" Garion's face hardened. Why did he keep asking about witches and wizards and such?

"No. Why would you think so?" Wizards. Simple charlatans.

"Um, because you have a letter to Hogwarts?"

"I do?"

"Yeah!" Ron continued enthusiastically. "You had it with you when you showed up! So I already get to go with someone I know!"

"What to you do at Hogwarts?"

"Learn magic!" Garion almost choked on his milk.

"Magic?" He gasped.

"Sure! Hey, why are you so surprised?

"They actually have schools for magic?" Ron's lower jaw practically tore open a tunnel to the cellar.

"What do you mean, 'actually'?" Ron said indignantly, "Of course they do!" Garion looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

"And what exactly do they teach you?" Garion's slightly superior effigy slid off his face as Ron's cracked into a broad smile. He mentally slapped himself in the forehead. What had he gotten himself into?

"Well, first thing you learn is how to use wands..."

'Wands? Oh for the love of Aldur!'

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Garion looked at the metal contraption. A strange blue monstrosity with strange malleable wheels. He raised an eyebrow.

"What's this thing called again?" Ron sighed. For the last few days, he had been attempting to introduce Garion to what technology the wizarding world had to offer.

"It's called a car, Garion."

"And how does it work again?"

Sigh

------ ------

"Come on boys! We've got no time to lose!" Mrs. Weasly burst out of the edge of the crowd, pulling two boys, one ginger, the other dirty blonde. The aforementioned children struggled to bear their load of, among other things, robes, books, and newt's feet, yet each one's mind was thinking completely different things. One, the redhead, thought how much easier this would be if he knew magic, and the other was trying his best to not use magic.

"Oi! Garion! Don't 'y think they should have had some bloody enchanted trolleys or something?" Garion grunted. While his recently regressed body was quite strong, he thought that even his old friend, Barak, would have trouble with his load.

"Maybe, but a little exercise is good for the soul, I guess." Mrs. Weasly turned around impatiently.

"Boys! Do you want to get your wands?" Ron eagerly picked up his pace, while Garion mumbled to himself.

"Wands, bah. Petty magicians tricks. Only way to use magic my foot."

"What was that, Garion?"

"Nothing."

----Later-----

Garion looked around cautiously as he poked his head into the wand shop. "Ah...Mr. Ollivander? Sir? Hello?" He took a step into the building, Ron close behind. "Anybody home?"

"Another Weasly, I see." Ron and Garion jumped, turning to see an old man behind the counter. "Here to buy you're wand, I presume? And who would your friend be?" Ollivander pointed at Garion.

"Who? Oh! Garion! He was...um...my mum's friends son. Ah...Ildera Ryva, right Garion?" Garion nodded in agreement.

"Ryva...Ryva... I haven't heard that na-" Garion's eyes flashed, deep blue lighting up his face. "Ryva?" Ollivander continued, "As in Ildera Ryva? Ooh! I remember her like it was yesterday! Now that was a tough choice! How is she?"

"She's dead." Ollivander's face fell, and he began to say something. But Garion didn't hear it. He was deeply involved in another conversation.

'Purpose? What in the name of the Seven are you doing?'

'Modifying their memories, what does it look like?'

'Why?'

'Why what?'

'You know what I mean.' The voice almost sighed.

'Yes, I do. You asked why?'

'YES!'

'Garion, right now you exist several thousand years in your worlds future, have practically unlimited power, yet all of that is lost if people don't believe you are who you say you are.'

"Garion!" He looked up startled. "Blimey, mate! Try not to zone out so much! It gets a little creepy!"

"Sorry, Ron. Did you get your wand?"

"Yup! You ready for yours?" Garion sighed inwardly. He was as ready as he would ever be. Wands! Foolishness.

"Now," Ollivander said, "Stick out your wand hand."

"Wand hand?"

"Your dominant hand."

"Oh." Garion stuck out his right arm.

"Lets take a look-see. Try this one out. He gave Garion a short length of wood. "Give it a wave!" Garion halfheartedly waved the wand. It shattered, splinters digging into the counter. "Hmm." Ollivander said thoughtfully, "Another tricky one today. This should be fun."

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Several wands, and almost an hour later, Garion was still looking. 'I had no idea these things could be so damn picky!' Ollivander came back, holding a box that seemed quite old. "Try this one. I don't even remember the last time I pulled it out, let alone what it's made of. Well? Go on!" Garion reached into the box, and pulled out a long wand. It was an interesting color; it seemed black, but had a luminescent blue hue touching it in spots. Towards the end, by the grip, the wand became a very pale gray. He gave it an experimental wiggle.

!CLANG!

Something clicked inside of Garion's head. The wand began to glow. A blue miasma began to coalesce around the thin piece of wood. Ollivander leaned in closer, transfixed. Almost without warning, the wand burst into a flaring azure flame. Ollivander sighed.

"No, this just simply will not do not at-."

"How much is it?"

-----End Chapter 1-----

It didn't suck that bad, did it? Any and all reviews welcome!

FC