I am not abandoning this story.

There, with that out of the way, I have to tell you guys that December was a very tough time for me. There were things I needed to work through, and my creative energy was almost non-existent. Which led to this very long gap between updates. I'll just say that from now on, I will be updating more frequently.

It was a very annoyed Harry that woke up, only to find himself in an unfamiliar bedroom.

"I really need to bring this body up a few notches. I can't afford to keep fainting after most summonings," he muttered to himself as he examined his surroundings. The furniture was stamped with what he recognized to be the same symbol that had been on Lord Gree- Damien's robes.

It must be their house he thought to himself as he slid out of the bed, noting with faint embarrassment that his clothes had been changed while he was unconscious. Almost simultaneously, a small creature appeared before him with a pop, with ears that seemed to have a life of their own.

"Master Potter be up. Prim be letting Master and Missus know. Sir must please follow," it squeaked, its chest puffed out as if it were a royal stewart. He followed the miniature creature with some amusement as it led him through the house. The corridors he went through were brightly furnished, without random artifacts cluttering them. He did note that there were various portraits, and a few of them appeared to be moving and speaking.

This is one weird world he thought to himself as he watched a portrait in which a man appeared to be talking animatedly to a tree stump. Prim stopped and he almost ran into...him? her? Her he decided, after thinking back on the voice. The creature knocked on a door, and motioned for Harry to enter.

"Thank you, Prim," came Damien's voice, upon which Prim bowed and disappeared, leaving him to walk into the room, where Daniel was looking at him with a disconcerting focus.

"What was that creature?" he asked curiously, partly out of discomfort at the look he was receiving.

"Ah, that was a house elf," said Damien, appearing to snap out of his line of thought, "Most old wizarding families will have one, you will find. In fact," he said, and walked towards a large desk, where he noticed a small wrapped package sitting, "Gringotts sent someone over with the books you requested. They've been shrunk down. When you wish to read them, just call for Prim and she will enlarge them again. They also sent nutrition potions. Once in the day, and once in the night for a month," he said, handing Harry the package.

He raised his eyebrows at how light the package was. Magic was proving to be quite useful, he was beginning to regret not exploring the possibilities outside of combat with his personas. He put the package in a pocket he found on his robes as Damien motioned for him to sit down.

"How long have I been unconscious?" he asked Damien, rather confused to see Gringotts process his request so quickly.

"Almost two days now," said Damien quietly.

"Ah," he said, understanding dawning on him. He groaned internally when Isabela swept into the room, followed closely by Daphne. He was in for quite a long conversation.

"Harry! Prim told us you were awake. How do you feel?" asked Isabela worriedly.

"I'm fine now. A little hungry," he admitted as his stomach reminded him of that fact, quite loudly.

"Oh! How rude of us," said Isabela, before calling for Prim and arranging for some soup and bread.

He sighed as all three members of the family proceeded to look at him expectantly. There was clearly no way around an explanation, though perhaps that was for the best.

"Where would you like me to begin?"

"The unearthly voice followed by the appearance of a magical artifact that sent Mr. Ollivander into a frenzy of excitement appears to be as good a place to start as any," said Damien, a hint of amusement lacing his tone.

So it is he thought to himself amusedly. He settled himself into a comfortable position in his chair, anticipating a long period of explanations.

He wasn't wrong.

Lucius Malfoy sat alone in his study, hunched near the fireplace as he retched repeatedly. His skin was unnaturally pale, and his entire frame seemed to have shrunken over the past few days. With trembling hands he tried to lift himself up, only to fail and fall on the floor again.

He screamed when the voice returned - the voice that had mercifully left him alone for the last few hours.

This container will not hold me for much longer.

"No…" whimpered Lucius, curled up on the floor, praying for help to come. But help would not come. He had set up the privacy wards in his office. The voice had made him. Help would not be coming, at least not for a good long while.

Mankind called for the end. I am the bringer.

The dry racking increased in intensity, forcing Lucius' body to go into convulsions as he desperately tried to gain control over his body.

The call for death is too weak here. I will help them fulfill their destiny.

The convulsions increased in frequency, and Lucius' eyes began to slide backwards into his head, on the precipice of losing consciousness.

Until a suitable vessel is found, I will divide myself and strengthen the call.

Blood began to seep out of Lucius' eyes as he let out one final, tortured scream before succumbing to unconsciousness. Even as his vision faded, dark miasma began to pour out of him.

The miasma pooled around, and even as it did so, Lucius' breathing became more regular, and the relief was visible in his body. As soon as the miasma stopped flowing, it began to break itself apart into numerous pieces.

Slowly, the clusters moved away in different directions. Even as they moved away, the face of Lucius Malfoy twisted itself into what was unmistakably a smile.

Soon, the call will sound.

Three days later

He sighed and put down the book he was reading, allowing himself to properly absorb the information. It had taken a three hour explanation, followed by him summoning Orpheus to convince the Greengrasses that he wasn't a delusional maniac. Setting fire to a nearby chair with Agi had perhaps contributed as well.

He still had not told them about him not being of this world. As far as they were concerned, he had discovered his powers five years ago, and was indeed Harry Potter. Which, for all intents and purposes, he really was. That was one explanation he would most likely not share with anyone. After all, even he had no clear idea as to how exactly he had gotten to this universe.

He began a series of workouts he had developed while in the Kendo club, thinking about the past three days. Lord and Lady Greengrass had mostly left him to his own devices, telling him that they needed time to talk through what he had told them. He didn't blame them for that.

To his intense amusement, Daphne had taken to observing him from what she obviously thought to be good hiding spots whenever he went outside his room. He wondered if she wanted to see more examples of his power. The curiosity in her eyes certainly seemed to suggest as much, though he also caught a hint of uncertainty in her demeanor. Nevertheless, he trusted his senses as he always did in these situations, and remained silent. She would approach him when she was ready.

The potions he had been given were miraculous in their effort. While his own abilities allowed for rapid healing or removal of ailments, none of his abilities had entered into the realm of nutrition. And yet here were potions that were rapidly compensating for malnutrition, to the extent where he could already begin to feel the effects after only three days. Now was the best time to begin honing his body.

My eleven year old body he had to keep reminding himself. He could not push it very far until he was a little older, which meant he could no longer count on his sword fighting skills as much as he used to. To compensate, he had already begun to read up on magic.

He had begun with magical theory, though Daniel had told him it was one of the toughest fields of all. It had been the same with his personas. First he had spoken to Igor to learn all he could about Personas. By the end of his questions, even the normally stoic keeper of the Velvet Room had a faint look of exhaustion on his face.

Unfortunately, he had no such expertise at his disposal this time. Not many magicians attempted to look into the theory behind magic, preferring instead to record laws based on phenomenological experience. And these were far too specific for him to draw conclusions about magic as a whole. But then he had come to the author who went by the nom-de-plume Ignatius. Daniel had the author's book Insights into Magic in his library, though he himself had not read it.

"In all my years, I have rarely come across something that dislikes being bounded as much as magic does. People try by the dozens to formulate laws that help them understand this capricious force. Even more phenomena arise that defies these laws. I have come across them myself.

With such experiences in hand, I propose that there are only two fundamental requirements that magic expects: focus and energy. Focus is achieved in multiple ways. Wands, incantations, staffs, and crystals are a few examples of focus. Focus involves the focus of energy, which is the second requirement, but more importantly, the focus of imagination and intention. To create a bowl of soup, one must be able to visualize the soup. One must be able to imagine the flavor they wish to impart to the soup. And one must be able to will their energy to follow their focus. Indeed, the premise behind wandless magic or silent magic is that the caster's focus is honed well enough to dispense with incantations or wands.

The second requirement is, of course, energy. All magical beings have a core of magical energy that they can channel, and which replenishes itself over time. This raw energy is directed by focus that the magician employs to make the desired effect possible. Beware of exhausting your core, however, for when the core is absolutely empty, you may never regain the use of magic again. Indeed, the uncrossable barrier that is death may remain so solely because no being is shown to possess the energy capable of breaching it."

This was what he needed - a foothold from which he could grasp what magic meant in this universe. He had to admit, it made sound sense even when it came to his own ability. Personas were only limited insofar as his own imagination was limited. And he could summon as many personas as he wished, if only his body had the energy for it.

Finding this nugget of information had taken him three days. Now, he had begun with Transfiguration, fascinated by the potential it held. Offensive and defensive spells did not concern him much at the moment. Even in his weakened state, he had a range of options at his disposal. But this field was like nothing he had encountered before. The closest he had come to this field was the crafting of weapons by imbuing them with personas.

He stopped as his routine came to a close, taking a few moments to recover his breath. His weakness continued to shock him, all the more so because he had never been so weak in his own body.

Just as he picked up the book to resume reading, there was a small knock at his door.

"It's me," came Daphne's voice, "Can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

"Come in," he said in measured tones and marked the book before laying it aside. He smiled slightly at Daphne as she opened the door and walked inside, and waited for her to speak.

It became apparent within a matter of seconds that Daphne would not speak easily. She looked conflicted, though her face hid it well. But conflicted by what emotions? Even he could not tell. She had admirable control over her face despite being so young. He knew then that he would have to do something to make her feel more at ease.

"Would you like to take a walk?" he asked her, making her snap out of her thoughts hastily.

"A walk?" she asked him, confused.

"Yes, a walk," he reiterated, a glint of amusement in his eyes, "You have a beautiful garden, if what I see from my window is any indication. And I haven't explored it yet."

She blushed slightly for sounding as confused as she did and nodded, prompting him to stand up and follow her out of the door.

The garden thrummed with the feeling of peace and security. Though he had only suggested it as a means to put Daphne at ease, he found himself enjoying it nonetheless. It bore the signs of being attended to with remarkable diligence and care. They were now at the center of a garden, where there was a rectangular structure. Stone benches were scattered throughout the clearing, while tall hedges formed the boundaries. Statues were arranged in different points throughout the area.

"My mother always said this place represented the inner Greengrass," said Daphne softly after a few moments.

He remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"Being a Noble family means that we cannot be ourselves in public. Especially since we are of a small faction, under constant pull from both sides. We must constantly be guarded. Never revealing our true emotions or thoughts. Always distant. Always cold," she continued, and he could sense the sadness in her tone.

He frowned. Why did her tone have the tinge of experience to it? Why did her words seem to outstrip her age?

"You speak as if from experience," he said. The tone conveyed the question, though the form did not, "How is that possible?"

Daphne laughed lightly, but the tone was bitter, "Most children begin to receive instruction in these matters when are eight or nine. We learn. We have to learn."

His face grew stony, and she must have noticed it, for she hastened to add, "That's not to say it's my parents' fault! They're kind and loving. They want me to have all the moments of childhood I can."

His anger abated, and he realized that it was not so different from what Mitsuru had to endure. Growing up before her time, always presenting an impeccable facade in public, always having to excel, and never a moment for weakness.

"It's the environment," continued Daphne in a slightly tired tone, "I've only been exposed to a small portion of what my father and mother face on a daily basis. But it's still tiring. Speaking formally. Dressing formally. Even birthday parties become events where little children try to play the parts of their parents."

Her voice trailed off into silence, and stayed silent for a few moments. Then she shook her head rapidly and spoke again, this time sounding a little more cheerful.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to go into such detail. You're very easy to talk to," she said, smiling slightly.

"So I've been told," he replied with amusement, thinking back on his previous high school life.

"Anyway, what I want to point out is this," she said, gesturing to a statue that was at the center of the retreat - he decided it was a retreat, it was the only word that sprung to his mind. He narrowed his eyes, reading the fainted inscription at the base of the statue.

"Titania."

"This garden is one of the few places where we can drop the facade. My mother used to tell me stories about the faeries. And I loved it. I loved what Titania represented. Calmness. Serenity. Power."

He began to realize why she was telling him all this.

"I...I would very much like to see her."

He turned to look at her, and saw a desperate eleven-year-old girl who needed - for lack of a better word - some magic to happen in her life. To realize her childhood at least in this one fleeting manner. His answer was chosen for him long before he was consciously aware of this fact. It was one word.

"Persona."

Power flooded through his body. Warm, yet cool. Dignified, yet playful. Powerful and independent. Flowers blossomed in the hundreds around him, and the smell of spring hung scintillatingly in the air.

She floated in the air with crystal-clear wings, her green dress moving gently in the breeze. Golden hair flowed in tresses, dressed with flowers of the spring. She was beautiful and fleeting - the very essence of spring.

"Beautiful," whispered Daphne, an awe-struck look on her face as she drank in the embodiment of her childhood heroine. He began to move away from the retreat slowly, ensuring that he had used enough power to keep Titania embodied for a good while.

It had been a while since he had last used his personas for anything other than battles.

The book spun slowly in mid-air, the product of his first ever magical exercise. The principal was quite similar to casting spells through his personas, though in that case he was wielding their power through his energy. Now, he had to channel and focus his own power. Something about this body made that easier, and he realized that his magical core was quite large.

Finally, an advantage to his this body he mused to himself. He was jerked from his thoughts when he suddenly heard the unmistakable roar of a large fire. He stood and walked out of his room with some speed, concerned that something was wrong.

It came from the study, I think he thought as he walked briskly in that direction. He neared the door, only to find the door open, and excited noises coming from inside.

He was greeted by the sight of what looked like a miniature Daphne, surrounded by Greengrass family. He sighed in relief, realizing that nothing seemed to be out of place.

Wait.

He looked at the young girl again. Soot and ash on her dress, standing directly in front of the fireplace, around which the rest of the family seemed to have gathered. Her hair also seemed ruffled.

No. It can't be.

These people can fire travel. Of course they can fire travel he deadpanned to himself That or she got caught in the chimney.

He was about to withdraw to his room when Isabela noticed him and called out to him.

"Harry! Excellent timing. Come here, I want you to meet someone."

He founded himself being regarded by curious, bright blue eyes as the young girl turned her attention on him.

"Tori," interrupted Daphne brightly before Isabela could say anything, "Meet Harry Potter!"

He waited silently as the girl looked at him, first with doubt, then with shock as her eyes landed on the scar on his forehead. He chucked slightly when the girl let out a high pitched squeal before burying her face in her mother's arms.

"Daphne! You know your sister too well to do that," scolded Isabela, even as she fought her own smile. Daniel had no such inhibitions, and laughed heartily, only to squirm seconds later under Isabela's glare.

He shot Daniel a look of understanding and sympathy before turning his attention to the girl, who still wouldn't look at him.

"Hello-" here he stopped short and looked at Isabela, realizing he still didn't know the girl's full name.

"Astoria," smiled Isabela, "Though she prefers to go by Tori."

"Hello Tori," he began again, eliciting a giggle from the child.

"Hi," she replied shyly before dashing out of the room.

"You'll have to forgive Tori," said Damien, his tone humorous, "She's eight years old and filled to the brim with stories of the famous boy-who-lived."

He blinked. Boy-who-lived?

"The title is rather eccentric," said Isabela, laughing at the disconcernation on his face, "Now, I have to go and help Tori unpack."

"She was staying with a close family friend," explained Daphne.

"Right, time for dinner I think," said Daniel cheerfully and beckoned for them both to follow him to to the dining room.

Soon, the entire family sat at the dining table, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy as he watched the family interact over dinner. The envy soon turned to nostalgia, however, as he remembered the various times his friends - no, his family - would behave similarly.

Towards the end of the dinner, he was distracted from his memories by a small nudge to his ribs. He turned to his left, only for Daphne to flash him a mischievous smile before turning to face the rest of her family. He watched with faint alarm, a feeling of impending doom starting to weigh down on him.

"Father, mother, don't you want to know what I did today?" she asked her parents, the very picture of innocence.

Ah. This is going to be problematic he thought to himself, but kept silent. Despite his better judgment, he too wanted to see how the Greengrass family would react.

"Of course, dear. You don't usually tell us about what you do," said Damien genially, reaching for another helping of dessert.

"Well, I studied French for a while. Then I continued reading on Wizarding etiquette. I spent some time writing a letter to Tracey. Oh, and I talked to Titania," she finished, adding the last part almost as an after thought.

"Excellent, excel-" Daniel choked in the middle of his sentence as the full impact of what Daphne said struck him. Isabela seemed to be struck silent in shock, while Astoria just looked confused.

He watched the spectacle in concern as the unnatural silence continued anticipating the floodgates of speech to be thrown open at any second.

"You...you spoke to Titania," said Isabela in a faint voice.

He frowned. Perhaps floodgates had been too strong a word to use.

Daphne merely nodded cheerfully and continued eating.

"WHAT?" exclaimed Damien, having finally stopped coughing. That seemed to snap the rest of the family of the daze, and a torrent of questions began to rain down.

He sighed in satisfaction and turned his attention back to his own plate. He had chosen the right word after all. The rest of dinner was a lively affair.

"I'm too old for so many surprises," said Damien twenty minutes later, his voice still slightly shaky as he poured himself a drink in his study. They were alone, as Damien had asked to have a word with him. He had gone along, wondering what the reason was.

"Now. First of all, I apologize," said Damien, holding up a hand when he made to speak.

"You might not think we have anything to apologize for. But we have been trying to keep a distance from you for the last three days. Even though we're wizards and live surrounded by improbable things, what you said still threw us off balance."

Here he sipped his drink, before continuing, "But we almost forgot to look at what you were as a person. Isabela and I pride ourselves on being fair judges of character. And yours seems to be a good one. If a bit secretive," he added, laughing slightly.

He blinked in response. That had indeed been the predominant opinion about him for a while.

"Of course, three days isn't a lot of time. I reserve the right to change my opinion," said Damien, with a completely serious face. Only his eyes gave away his mirth.

"Well then, that's all I wanted to say," said Damien, sounding faintly embarrassed.

"Thank you," he told Damien as he stood to leave. Just as he did so, an owl flew into Damien's study, dropping a package on the table before swooping out just as quickly.

"That handwriting…" frowned Damien as he looked at the spidery scrawl on the package. His frown turned into a smile as he looked up at him.

"I do believe it's your wand, Harry."

A/N: Not the best way to end a chapter, but I really wanted to put something up. A fairly slow chapter, but I want to ensure I allocate enough time to character development. Forming bonds is an inseparable part of the Persona games after all.

Reviews are fuel. The more I get, the better. That is all.