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Chapter 1- What Dreams May Come

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, sighed as he looked around his dreamscape. It was the same as last night, a blank, black expanse that stretched as far as the eye could see. He waited for a moment, waiting for the graveyard to appear and for Cedric Diggory's death to be played out in his head, like it had been for the entire summer. But it never came. Instead, there came a voice.

"Have you found him yet brother?" a woman's voice came to his ears. A male voice, answered her, sounding a bit angry.

"Yeah, yeah, I got the connection. Keep your shirt on." And then as if whoever was speaking was muttering under their breath, "For all our sakes." There was the sound of a slap. "Owww," the man's voice whined. There was a quality to the man's voice that somehow reminded Harry of Fred and George. Pure, undiluted mischief seemed to make up its depths and width. Suddenly, Harry found himself on a dusty plain, with mesas rising in the distance. Harry looked around uneasily, before spinning round at the sound of the man's voice. Instead of a man, he came face to face with a…dog?

"Lissen, kid, I aint got much time. Let's get down to the nitty-gritty. I," the canine indicated himself with a paw, "Am the spirit known as Coyote. And you," he pointed to Harry, "Are one of seven avatars representing the fundamental forces that compose the universe." Harry just stared at him for a moment, and asked the first thing that came to mind.

"What's an avatar?" Coyote looked at him for a moment, before shaking his head in despair.

"I really hope the others are having better luck with this than I am!" he moaned to himself. "I'm sorry kid, I can't give you all the specifics. You know how it is with Visions and Prophecies right, vague enough to be mind numbingly exasperating, and specific enough to be useful. All I can tell you is that you're connected to a very powerful creature, as are six others."

"What kind of creatures?" Harry asked, growing interested despite himself. This Coyote was certainly a pleasant change from the usual mien of nightmares that he experienced over the summer holiday at least. And he didn't seem to be anything that Voldemort would employ, even in passing. Coyote looked as if he were about to answer, but stopped suddenly.

"Sorry kid, it aint my place to tell. But anyways, you and these other six are connected to these powers. Some of my brothers and sisters are attempting to contact the other five that don't know, the seventh has known about this whole thing for a while." As he spoke, the mesas around them began to erode away. "Sorry kid, I gotta go, the connection's fading." As he said this, he slowly faded out of existence. But before he was totally gone, Coyote tossed something to Harry. "Keep it with ya kid, you'll need it soon. Oh, and one last thing. Some of the most powerful allies in the fight you've been tapped to enter are closer than you realize."

Harry caught the cord and looped it around his wrist before taking a closer look at the item. It was a small gold pendant shaped like a sun with eight spokes, made to look like rays radiating from the center. Harry sat up in bed, and reached for his glasses. As he did, he felt something shift around his wrist. He blinked owlishly at the small pendant, cord wrapped around his wrist before he looked at the digital watch that had belonged to Dudley before his wrist had grown to fat for the strap to fit around. It was around twelve-thirty in the morning. In her cage, Hedwig hooted softly, watching her master with bright yellow eyes. Harry gave her a blurry-eyed look of long-suffering.

"Well girl, looks like it's started again already."

Hedwig merely hooted once more.

Meanwhile, at Malfoy Manor, Draco Malfoy was experiencing something similar to his arch-enemy's current predicament. He was currently sitting on a rock ledge in his dream, chewing over all of the information he had just received, basically the same thing Harry had heard. Next to him perched a large mountain lion. "And you say that there are six others?" he was saying. The cat nodded before speaking. His voice was deep and serious.

"Yes, but I must tell you this. Do not let past perceptions and false impressions color your interactions with them. You must cast aside your pride and allow yourself to work with them lest your fathers master triumph." Draco scowled at the mention of his father, but the scowl deepened even further when he thought about the fact that he might have to work with his most hated enemies, if he understood what the cat was saying.

Mountain Lion gave a small feline smile, reading his young acquaintance's mood. "Ah, you feel that they are beneath you?" he questioned. Draco scowled once more, before assuming an arrogant attitude.

"Of course they are! Everyone are beneath the Malfoy's!" The large cat's grin quickly faded, to be replaced by a grim look.

"That is pride cub. That can be a dangerous thing." Draco just cocked an eyebrow and looked at the spirit. His look said, 'Hello pot, have you met the kettle?'.

Mountain Lion's tail lashed the air as he got up and prowled along the ledge, and Draco silently tacked another point to him self on his ever-present scoreboard of him vs. the world, repressing his satisfied grin at getting a rise out the pompous seeming creature. However he lost his sense of accomplishment when the big cat's voice lashed out at him with all the venom of Prof. Snape at his worst, covering a sheet of solid steel.

"Don't give me that look cub; there is more than one type of pride. There is pride in yourself, in what you have accomplished, pride in your family, pride in your friends. These are all types of pride that can help a cub such as yourself in The Great Journey. But there are also prides that can trip you up along The Journey. Pride in a station you did nothing to achieve, but were born into; pride in causing another harm, pride in doing something that you know to be wrong, even if it is only subconsciously." As the large cat finished, Draco's mood turned somber.

Suddenly Mountain Lion turned and looked towards the top of the horizontal cliff the ledge they were sitting on was situated on. A dust cloud was skidding its way down the cliff face towards them. As it hit the ledge, the cloud formed into a panting Coyote. "Damn it ML, why do ya gotta have all of your dreamscapes so damn impassible?!" Draco looked at the canine for a moment, before looking at Mountain Lion, who was looking slightly worried.

"What is it Brother?"

"I just checked in with the others. They can't find their assigned targets. Apparently yours," he indicated Draco with a toss of his head, provoking another scowl from Draco, " and mine were the only ones we were able to contact. Even Fox couldn't find her target! And our window of opportunity is closing fast. There's no tellin' when the big idiot could come back and find we've left the Rock unguarded. So give him the pendant and let's hightail it out of here! We'll stop at Golem's place and give the rest of the pendants to his avatar to give to the unclaimed elementals to give to their avatars."

All of this was said in a rather fast, breathless voice. ML nodded, signifying that he understood the urgency in his canine brother's tone. The dreamscape around the three beings began to melt away. As it did, Mountain Lion went up to Draco and nuzzled against the boy's arms like a giant house cat. As he did so, Draco felt something loop around his wrist. As the final traces of the dream faded and Draco woke up.

He found himself clutching a pendant, much like the one Harry had received. But instead of a golden sun, his consisted of a single smooth disk of obsidian, with not a single mark upon it. Even so, it felt peculiarly heavy for such a small disk of stone. He looked at the grandfather clock opposite his bed and noted the time. Nearly two in the morning.

Nearly on the other side of the world, a man in his mid-twenties sat up from a nap he had been taking. He looked at the four pendants he now clutched in his hand, and rusty, reddish-brown eyes became clouded with worry. Instinctively his other hand went to the pendant around his own neck. It was made of copper, and shaped like a mountain peak. After a moment his hand dropped, before he ran it through his mess of muddy brown hair. "Aw crap on stick!" he muttered to himself as he got up and went to a window.

From there, he looked out on his vast property, a small Colorado ranch with a small lake and a moderate forest, almost a copse of trees, nestled in the foothills of the Rockies. It was just going on night here. Silently he noted the criss-cross of what looked like tunnels a mole would make all over his property. Except that this particular mole was ten feet long, fifteen if you included his tail, the man noted with a small smile. He leaned out the window and yelled, "HEY NEEDLE NOGGIN!!!" into the large hole right beneath his window.

The noise echoed for a moment before something began to happen. There was a rumbling, which grew steadily louder. Eventually two eyes were visible in the darkness, glowing slightly within the recesses of the tunnel. After a few seconds a spiky looking snout popped out of the hole, followed by the rest of the head. The beast's neck was virtually nonexistent, it's shoulders beginning almost immediately.

It was a Golem dragon, a rock dragon that was merely a legend to most of the wizarding world, mentioned in ancient stories as a beast of great power that was slow to anger, but once its ire was roused, it came down on the perpetrator of the evil done to it with the force of an erupting volcano and the speed of a raging avalanche. The dragon began to grunt and growl, but to the man it sounded like a gruff, earthy voice.

"Whadda ya need Shawn?" Apparently, being made almost entirely of rock had the effect of making his personality a little rough around the edges. The man, Shawn, shrugged it off, having known the rock lizard for years.

"I need you to give these to the others. I don't think you need to tell them not to lose them." As he spoke, Shawn handed over the pendants in his hand to the dragon. Golem responded by hoisting himself out of his tunnel, before gathering the four pendants in his huge rough 'hand'. He then turned and began to lumber in the direction of the lake and forest. Shawn watched him go; still marveling at the impression of indomitable power he still got from his friend, even after knowing him all these years.

The dragon stood on his hind legs when out of the tunnels, and towered over most of the mundane objects he passed. Golem, being a ground dwelling dragon, possessed no wings. Instead his back was covered by rocky spikes, which stuck out every which way. These spikes were even present along his short neck and the back of his skull. Strangely enough, he had a single row of spikes amid the rest of the disordered ones, with one midway along his back that stuck out farther than the rest. It was also thicker than the others and sometimes, when Golem was digging near the surface, it almost looked like he was a land-shark on the prowl. His arms were compact and solid, with broad sharp claws that could tear through flesh as easily as they did through rock and soil. His back legs were thick as well; and heavily muscled from pushing himself forward through the rock and soil at furious paces. His eyes were, strangely enough, the exact shade of Shawn's eyes, and permanently narrowed from a lifetime of pushing through dirt while keeping an eye out for an odd trinket or shiny gem to add to his little collection of subterranean discoveries. Alongside all of this natural intimidation material was his armored hide, thick as a slab of granite and tougher than steel, making him a tank on two legs.

As Shawn watched his old friend go, a crackle from his fireplace made his hair stand on end. A brief tune, like that of a doorbell, wafted through the flames, before a grizzled, salt-and-pepper head appeared. The old Native American man who owned said head cast around for a micro-second, before sky-blue eyes locked onto the house's owner. Without even a by-your-leave, he hefted himself through, and was glaring at the younger man from a diminutive, but still somehow imposing, five foot four. Shawn nonchalantly pulled a beer and a Corona out of the fridge, tossing the beer to the older man. His tone was dry when he spoke.

"Hello Boss, pleasure to see you too, come right in and make yourself at home."

The man ignored the pleasantries as he removed the top of his bottle, with his teeth, and spat it into the garbage can with pinpoint accuracy. After a quick swig he looked levelly at the younger man, before speaking. "O'Reilly, you're going to England."

Shawn cocked a brow. "Do tell. And what prompted this Tomahawk?" The old man took another, deeper, swig of his beer, before answering.

"The entire f#$ing Seer and Psychic Wing walking into my office, the Head Spook grabbing me by the lapels, shaking me like a freaking rag doll and swearing that either you go to England and "take the flea-bitten mongrel with you" or they were all gonna quit. On the spot. That's what happened." Shawn made a wry face.

"Eeesh, sorry I asked then." "Tomahawk" shook his head as he drained the last of the Corona.

"Be that as it may, I'm hereby putting you on special assignment. I'll take care of the paperwork that's needed," the old man shuddered at the thought, "You just get there as fast as possible with those oversized suitcases of yours." Though the words were anything but, the tone was that of a superior officer giving one of his men a direct order. Shawn snapped a crisp salute, which would have been impressive if not for the beer in his hand. Tomahawk just shook his head and turned back to the fireplace, when Shawn cleared his throat.

"Um, Boss?" The old man looked at him over his shoulder, and raised one brow. "About my team…"

"They'll be placed with separate strike teams in need of fill-in's or field commanders. But should the situation call for it I'll have them shipped over to watch your six." Shawn nodded, relief clearly written in his face.

As Tomahawk left Shawn returned to the task that had sent him to dreamland about half an hour ago. He picked up the letter and scanned it once more. It was written in green ink and at the top, was a crest with four animals; a badger, a hawk, a snake, and a lion.

-Dear Mr. O'Reily,

I am writing you to ask for you to come to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in order to fill the position of Defense Against Dark Arts teacher. I am aware of your peculiarities and am prepared to allow you to bring what you wish, and give you near free reign in teaching the students, provided it is approved by the Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall first. Also, I wish to enquire as to whether it may be possible to bring your companions with you in order to provide added security for Hogwarts. I fear Voldemort is on the move once more and is planning something terrible. Please send your owl back within a week so that I may begin preparations of adequate lodgings for your companions.

Sincerely yours,

Albus Dumbledore-

Shawn ignored the whole Order of Merlin stuff and looked at the letter for a moment longer. He had been disinclined to acquiesce to the Headmasters request, but now he was being ordered to go. Something big was coming; apparently the Spirits had decided his presence was vital.

Plus he wanted to make sure there were as few casualties as possible in whatever was going on. He was soft that way. He looked over at Major, a Frost eagle that he had "liberated" from some poachers quite a few years ago. Almost as long-lived as phoenixes or mini-rocs, and just as intelligent as either.

The great silver bird ruffled his wings for a moment, the dog-tags around his neck tinkling merrily. Idly scratching his feathered friend behind one of the two tufts that grew from the back of his head, Shawn took a cheap bic from his pocket and quickly scrawled a reply.

-Professor,

I'll take the job, both of them. Don't bother with providing shelter, one of my guys is more than capable of creating a temporary home for the entire group. I'll try and be there before school starts, but, knowing me, I'll end up late, so expect me there about the same time the kids get there. I can guarantee that we'll all be there by the time the feast begins. And don't worry about my normal job, I've already been given leave to go.

Your new DADA Prof,

Shawn O'Reily-

Shawn stuffed the short letter into an envelope, before attaching it to Major's leg. "Take this to Hogwarts buddy," Shawn ordered. The eagle clacked his beak a few times, before taking off into the night sky. Shawn smiled as he watched him fade into the night. 'Watch out Hogwarts,' he thought mischievously, 'the Yankee's are coming, and you won't know what hit ya.'