Chapter 11 – A Saviour's Homecoming

Okay, sorry for the late update, but I've had a bit of a writer's block and things weren't setting well no matter what I wrote. That said, the response I've got from all you fantastic reviewers and followers and favoriters and readers is just like you … FANTASTIC! Thank you all for keeping up with this story and thank you for your patience. It's a great motivator.

I'm going to try and keep your suggestions in mind while I take this story forward, and I hope I and this story don't disappoint you. For the moment, I'd like to heartily thank xDarklightx, Separ, ReadPaxJoy, S. Rune, Gytrash1167, Kairan1979, blagyz, Venpex, lord Hephaestus, n.n, andOregonDucks for all your reviews and especially for the constructive criticism. There are some elements in your reviews that I will be covering in the upcoming chapters.

But for now, I hope this chapter will suffice. Do keep reviewing!

Edit: Due to a review, I need to clarify that this chapter carries on from the previous one and that Harry is where he is for a short time.


Harry arrived at Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow, where he had chosen to live for the past three years. Sirius and Remus called it unhealthy to withdraw himself from society every summer, doing Merlin only knew what. Harry had often chuckled at that; he actually had been doing a lot of training based on the memories he had received from the Scepter of the Apprentice. He'd never been so thankful for Miss Anne's help and training in his childhood. Under her tutelage, he had become proficient enough to be able to undergo the more intensive training that being Merlin's Apprentice apparently required.

There was, however, one tiny problem. He needed to find a dragon.

Hopefully that wouldn't be a problem, but the dragon who could help him was currently nesting in the hills of Norway, if he'd got a fix on the right dragon, that is.

"Harry? Are you down in your lab again?"

"No, Moony, I'll be down in a minute."

A few minutes later Harry came down from his room on the first floor and went into the drawing room to greet Remus. "So how is everyone at Grimmauld, Uncle Moony?" Harry chimed, a bright smile lighting his usually stern features.

Remus grinned as he took in the suitcase his almost-nephew threw down on the floor, before hugging the young man. "No need to make me feel older than I already do, Harry," he protested half-heartedly.

Harry pulled away to put a hand over his heart in an exaggerated mock hurt gesture. "Naah! Would I do that to you?"

"You just did, you young brat," returned Remus easily, sitting in his preferred armchair and choosing a cookie from the spread that Harry's house-elf chef had just laid for them. "Mmm … good cookies. Tell Killy she's the best cook ever. How are you going to manage in America?"

"Dobby's coming with me. I've had Marauder's Hideout opened for me for times I want to just get away. He will stay there until I can get that charm to work properly," replied Harry, settling in opposite Remus. "When is Sirius getting here?"

"He shouldn't be too long now cub. Some mail he had to reply to," answered the werewolf vaguely.

The messy-haired teen sighed. "Remus, if you're planning any sort of going-away party, Im leaving this minute."

"Aw, come on Harry, would we do that to you?"

Resigned to his fate, Harry shook his head at the elder man and settled for reading up on his courses at MIT, both of them sitting in companionable silence. It didn't last long though.

There was a loud BOOM at the fireplace, announcing the entrance of a large party of people. Harry could make out Sirius' groans and Hermione's promises of reprimands due the next day because she didn't want to spoil the day for Harry.

Two red-headed mischief makers were the first ones through the doors, eager to escape from the proximity to the irate witch's dulcet tones. Clad in identical suits and grins to match, they greeted Harry and Remus like the family they were. Though their hands were empty, Harry knew better than to trust the evidence of his eyes where these two were concerned. Sure enough, four rather large bags filled with Weasleys Wizarding Wheases party line of products came whizzing from their pockets with a simple 'Accio'. Harry smugly confiscated them.

The gathering was a happy one, as everyone present considered each other family. They had gone through the past 5 years together, shoring up each other and being the constant familial source of unconditional acceptance that each needed. Even though Harry had brought them together, they knew that they would never leave this family.

When Harry left that evening via the portkey property of his House Ring, he left behind a bittersweet feeling of loss that this once innocent boy was gone from the land of his birth, a land that had failed to respect and honour him as he should have been; and satisfaction that he could start anew in a place where he could be just Harry Potter, the simple boy with a strong, loving heart, who used to accept people with no strings attached. Now, that boy was gone, seemingly replaced by this hardened warrior who saw the greys in life, but treated them as if they came from the blackest depths of Hell.

Meanwhile, the Boy-Who-Had-Conquered-Again arrived at the Marauders' Hideout to be welcomed by an enthusiastic Dobby, complete with vigorous ear-flapping and leg-hugging. He was glad to see that the place was clean and habitable again, and decided to spend the day exploring the house and the beach. The Marauders' Hideout had all the typical heavy protection charms and hexes active on the property, but the beach, though demarcated, was open to the Muggle public. Anyone not specifically invited to the house though, would not be able to see it, wizard and Muggle alike, and that suited Harry just fine. He would, of course, have to get used to the more politically correct term used for non-magical people here in America; they were called mundanes. Hermione, he reflected, would love it.

While he was lying on the beach soaking up some late afternoon sun, he sensed the arrival of three unfamiliar magical signatures breaching the lesser wards around his part of the beach. Tensing slightly, he rose to sit on his beach chair, adjusting the angle of the huge umbrella. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, gentlemen?" he asked without looking up at them.

The three paused for a bit. "Sir, my name is Andy MacDougall. My colleagues and I are representatives of the American Wizarding Federation."

"And your colleagues are?"

"Um … this is Morag Shaw and Casey Dunne. We're here to extend the warm wishes and a welcome to the United States from our Federation, Sir. Any help we might be able to give you, just ask. We can be reached at this address," he handed over a piece of paper, "and the Floo address is also given there should you need it."

Harry read the information on the paper before finally looking up at the men before him. "I thank you gentlemen. Did you get the papers from my bank stating that I would be taking up residence here at my family's property for the foreseeable future?"

"Yes Sir, Mr. Potter. The papers reached us several weeks ago and have been processed. You will have no problems here. There are, however, a few things we would like to talk to you about."

"Yes?"

Morag looked around shiftily, scuffing her feet in the sand. "Well, actually, Mr. Potter …"

"It's Lord now, actually." Harry cut in casually, hiding a smirk by keeping his head down, seeming highly interested in his perfectly pared nails.

"Ah, um, yes … yes, of course, Lord Potter. You see, my daughter is a big fan, and I was wondering if you old give me an autograph for her. It's her birthday next week and it would be a lovely surprise," Morag finished with a rush.

Harry waved a hand over the paper on which the Federation's address was written and changed it into a beautiful card. "How old is she and what's her name?" he asked the startled mother.

"Delia, Lord Potter, and she'll be 6 next week."

Summoning a pen out of thin air, Harry wrote the correct greetings and congratulations, signing it with a simple Harry Potter. Then he summoned an envelope and slid the card neatly into the slot, before handing it to Morag who accepted it gratefully. "Thank you, Sir."

"It's just Harry, please. I had hoped to get away from the claustrophobic environs of forced adoration in this land …," he let the sentence hang unfinished, shrugging his shoulders with a resigned sigh.

"We will try to ensure that you are not troubled, Lord – err, Harry," stumbled Andy. "But you have to know that you're are certainly no less a well known person over here than in Britain. On the plus side, while most of us are reasonable like Morag here," she scowled at him then blushed when Harry winked at her, "there may be others who just want a piece of you. Photographs, endorsements, book signings, the works. Still, it's pretty easy to be invisible here, unless you intentionally call attention to yourself."

"Oh, that's not going to be a problem, guys. I'm not looking for trouble. Had enough to last me a lifetime." Harry got up and gathered all the paraphernalia as he began leading the way back up to his house. "Now, you want to come in for a cuppa or not?"

The others caught up to him when he'd almost reached the steps. Harry turned to them and smiled, extending his arm out to indicate the sprawling house behind him, "You're my first guests here. Welcome, to Marauders' Hideout."


The sound of his phone belting out Highway to Hell woke Harry a bit too early for his liking the next day. The words Anthony Stark on the screen caused him to stuff the obnoxiously-loud-for-four-in-the-morning toy under his mattress with a growl before pulling a pillow over his head.

Against all reason, that did not stop the phone from continuing to ring.

Harry groaned loudly before pulling the phone out and activating the loudspeaker. "What?" he barked.

"Where are you?" came the disgustingly awake and chirpy voice of Tony Stark. Harry was beginning to wonder why he continued to suffer the prat.

"At home. Sleeping," he replied pointedly.

"Well unless you have a thing about sleep-talking, you're awake. So, again, where are you?"

Sighing gustily Harry replied in a monotone, "In the States."

"Aw, come on Harry! You're gonna make me pull this out of you bit by bit when you've just woken up at 4 in the morning, having not yet slept off your jet-lag and you're in the country but not at Stark Towers where I could offer you the restorative powers of my all-new, but as yet private innovation of the all-purpose Medi-cure? That's just sad, Harry. It's like you don't trust me anymore."

Harry's lips twitched at the pout in Tony's voice. The man was an insufferable, arrogant berk, and had been badgering Harry to come over and join him in New York ever since he'd heard that Harry had finished school early. He's even offered to give the young Lord a job if it wasn't much too beneath him to take on the mantle of Tony Stark's assistant. Dreading Pepper's ire, Harry had immediately refused, manfully admitting being downright scared of the formidable Miss Potts when her fury was roused in the midst of her duties. Tony hadn't let off needling him about it until Harry had casually suggested he would ask Pepper what she thought of being replaced. Tony's lips had been sealed tighter than cement for a whole day after that. For Harry it was a real victory.

"What are you doing way over in Malibu?"

Harry sighed in resignation, knowing that a Tony Stark without answers was a Tony Stark at the finest consoles in the world, rooting through information that probably wasn't meant for him to see. He'd probably tracked the signal of the phone.

"I was planning to get some coffee and then get into the water, seeing as you're bent on keeping me up," answered Harry, trying to smooth down a serious case of bed-head while putting coffee grounds in the pot. He eventually gave up one as a lost case and concentrated on the other.

"But why are you there without me? Who's going to show you the sights, take you around, help you see places?" There was a very suspicious pause. "Get the girls?"

Harry face-palmed, trying to wipe away the frustrated laughter that was threatening to break through. A few chuckles got through and across the line, a satisfied Tony Stark relaxed into his comfy chair in his basement work station. "So," he continued, "are you coming over or what?"

"I'm here for some R & R, Tony. Don't you go ruining this for me."

"Me? Ruining anything? My Lord Potter, at Stark Industries we assure the best of experiences from all our products, including Moi!"

"You?"

"Hey, I live it, I breathe it. It doesn't get deeper than that. But there's something you gotta explain to me."

"I'm not going to tell you how I do it, Tony."

"Wouldn't wanna know kiddo. I'd prefer to see you in action." His teasing tone turned abruptly serious. "No, what I really want to know is why the Stark satellite is showing me that the signal from your phone is coming from an abandoned, ramshackle, sodden, damp pile of mildew out in the middle of the best, most private and prime piece of beach property that exists in Malibu. It doesn't exactly look like the property you told me about. Care to explain?"

"Err …"