Cheers poseidon86, your review reply is disabled but a) you're absolutely right and b) all those developments will occur. :) Cheers.

NoToLogins: No extra cruelty intended, I promise. :) I've just had excessive care of ancient books and papers hammered in to me during my time as a researcher. It makes me prone to assuming that a lack of care leads to destroyed materials, hence Harry's situation.

Also, a couple of people have remarked on the comparatively low cost of sending someone to Pandora. I originally pulled the figure from the Avatar wiki although it seems to have since been removed. Although, considering the sale price of unobtanium (20 mil per kilo) and the cost of growing a clone body (5 bil) and the carrying capacity of the IVS for people alone (minimum 200) and accounting for inflation… I'm not too sure this isn't about right. (Source: Activist Survival Guide) I'd be interested in your opinions.

I really do not like this chapter but it gets a few things done at least.

Mary Jane

"Not bad, huh?"

Mary Jane clutched a rubber tube to her bathing-suited-self, white knuckled. Her normally bright and friendly face was almost comically wide-eyed and pale as she stared at the mouth of the giant enclosed water-slide. Flashing rings in cheerful colours disappeared down it, taunting them.

"Longest and highest in the world." MJ - as she had insisted Harry call her the second they'd met in person - continued nervously. Harry, his stomach flipping like the morning before his first ever quidditch match, wished she wouldn't. He'd been working on convincing himself this was a perfectly normal slide, thank you. A perfectly normal, Muggle water-slide. Compared to flying on a broomstick, how bad could it be? He did not need to be reminded that it wound around and through a bloody skyscraper and wasoften transparent for the 'enjoyment' of all involved.

It was bad enough that a large sign had politely requested all patrons visit the toilet prior to entering the slide. Bloody hell.

In addition to MJ's nervous chatter, a couple of camera-people and a smattering of producers/aides/gophers were hiking his anxiety. They'd been following the two of them around for almost a week now as MJ took him on a whirlwind tour of all sorts of 'experiences', all of which was filmed as part of the preparation for their live show. He was used to them for the most part, but having them bear (grinning) witness to his nervousness wasn't helping.

"Whose idea was this again?" He asked weakly, resisting the urge to clutch his own tube to his chest. He was wearing swim shorts (he'd put his foot down on the 'old fashioned' long and baggy style) but felt utterly naked as half a dozen people and a couple of cameras stared avidly at him.

"I dunno." MJ replied glumly. "But I think they hate me."

The silence dragged on as the two of them stared apprehensively at the obnoxiously cheerful entrance. An attendant tried and failed not to laugh.

MJ edged closer to him, rounding her shoulders delicately and batting her lashes. "…You go first?" She asked hopefully. Having already been caught more than once by the mischievous brat in the body of a woman, Harry didn't hesitate.

"So you can leg it out the back? No chance."

MJ pouted, 'delicate little girl' act evaporating.

"Didn't there used to be this thing called chivalry?" She grumped.

"Yeah," Harry grinned suddenly. MJ looked at him in sideways alarm. "And one of the principles of it was 'ladies first', so…"

He took a half-step back, bowed and swept a gallant arm towards the slide. MJ looked outraged but stomped forward, grumbling. She hesitated at the mouth, tyre shuffled to rest against her backside, hands fisted in the grips.

"Harry, if I don't survive this…" She instructed solemnly. "I want you to murder my producer." She jumped before he could answer, a long drawn-out scream following her down. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Harry stepped up to follow.

"Bloody hell." He sighed, and jumped in after her.

Mary-Jane

The crowd laughed and cheered, applause almost deafening.

The clip that had just played for them was one of half a dozen sprinkled throughout the marathon three hour show. Other guests had come and gone but it had been plain that everyone in the audience - and in her quadrupled international viewer count - were only wanting one thing.

Harry Potter, the Boy who Slept.

Mary Jane had opened the show by warning her audience that the increasingly famous teen was 'shy' and then played up a pre-scripted event where her producers failed to find him, leaving her grinning fixedly into the middle distance as her audience chuckled and lapped up the joke. She'd teased them with footage of her and Harry at historic Disney World (Harry had been genuinely, boyishly excited - endearing him to her viewers) and had them roaring with laughter as she dragged a beet-red, mortified kid from over a century in the past through a manufacturing plant for high-end, sophisticated 'Companion' bots.

Now it was nearing the end of her segment and they were about ready to chew their own limbs off in anticipation. Perfect.

She raised her hands and grinned at them all.

"Okay okay… I know, I've been a bit of a bad girl, huh? But hey! Good news is, I've run out of time to tease you!"

Anticipatory hoots and cheers filled the air. Mary Jane didn't bother to raise her voice, knowing the sound system would adjust hers to carry above theirs automatically.

"Please welcome our next dashing, charming, cheeky, chivalrous guest… Harry Potter!"

Mary-Jane

The crowd exploded with noise as he stepped through the scenic holograms concealing his presence. Home-made signs, both physical and digital, jerked up and down over their heads. People leapt to their feet and screamed. Hands were clapped so loudly it soundedpainful. It was beyond anything he'd ever experienced in the Wizarding World. Not even the World Cup seemed to hold a candle to it.

Harry kept his gaze locked firmly on the woman springing to her feet to welcome him, her hand outstretched like a lifeline. He took it in a shake, realising now that something so simple and familiar to him was something she'd researched just to make him comfortable - shaking hands wasn't a common way of greeting any more, like how bowing had fallen out of fashion in his own time.

He appreciated it more than he could articulate. Being in front of a live audience was nothing like being in front of a camera and small production crew.

She gestured for him to take a seat and waved for the crowd to be a little quieter.

"Hey, it's okay." She addressed him teasingly as she sat herself, maybe noticing his slight pallor or trembling hands. "I'll help you through this. It's easy, you just sit back" She exaggeratedly settled herself, one arm flung over the back of her chair, one leg over the arm rest. "stare blankly into the crowd -don't bother making eye contact, they're not real people-" the crowd swelled with low laughter "and wave." She demonstrated, smiling a so-obviously-fake smile that it made Harry's own lips twitch up into something a little more natural. Swallowing, he followed her instructions and stared out over the crowd, pretended they were nothing more than a blur of quidditch fans, and waved stiffly.

There was a wave of cheers, whistles and waving hands back.

"I feel like a member of the royal family." He muttered, his voice somehow sounding loud and clear, a combination of future technology amplifying it and the crowd quickly hushing themselves to hear him.

"Oh right, you had a, uh, a Queen, right? The Last Queen? Great snap, by the way." MJ resettled herself properly, expression flawlessly interested.

Harry blinked, but smiled.

"Yes, Queen Elizabeth the second. She had a son and two grandsons when I… went to sleep. I take it they had sons too?"

"That's right, several in fact. I think it was Alexander the… fourth? Who started the UCGB - United Corporation of Great Britain - that kick-started sweeping changes all over the world, really impressive stuff, pioneered most of the QGEs as we know them today."

Harry blinked and rubbed the back of his head.

"I… don't think I'm up to that part of my schooling yet." He said sheepishly. It was an easy out, one MJ herself had advised him to fall back on if she said anything he wasn't sure how to respond to.

"No problem." MJ laughed. "How's that going, anyway? There's a lot to catch up on, I bet."

"Definitely." He relaxed a little, recognising one of his cues. "Although it's been hard to find time for it lately."

"Yeah, no doubt!" MJ rested her elbow on the arm of her chair, a beautiful honey-gold affair of carved wood and deep cushions that floated above the ground thanks to an invisible arrangement of powerful magnets. It mirrored the darker chair that Harry sat in - genuine sakura wood one of the backstage staff had boasted, whatever that was.

"I own at least one of every book of yours - but tell me the truth: Magic? Really?"

"Really." Harry grinned.

"Potions?" Disbelieving eyebrows rose.

"Potions." Harry agreed. "Bottled luck, beetle eyes-"

"Cinnamon? Salt?"

"When mixed with magical ingredients, very necessary, yes. Vital, really. I'm the furtherest thing from an expert but the GLF's researchers have been having a lot of fun looking at the molecular and chemical structure of what plants I've managed to grow for them-"

"So their releases-?"

"True. Unauthorised, but true. I've been trying to get volunteers in from other scientific institutes to be part of the testing, but since the GLF have legal priority for development opportunities, they're a little… reluctant."

"Okay, so, here is something I think we all really wanna know," MJ looked out over the crowd and back "and I understand that, uh, that this will be covered in upcoming books, uh, The Reality of Magic? And your biography, right? Something that explains just exactly what magic, scientifically speaking, is?"

"Yeah," he ran a hand through his hair "more in the former than the latter. The Reality of Magic combines the research and theories done by my people and the current research being done by the GLF to give a really in-depth overview. But, I can say, that basically? Magic is just another type of energy…"

He gave the rundown they'd both practiced before the show, a blend between enough information to explain the reasonably-complicated system (which couldn't easily be proven, just to make things more difficult) but not so much that it left the audience in a stupor.

It had taken a long time for them to get it down in practice. They took turns speaking, MJ rephrasing most of what he said in a way that made sense for modern audiences. They covered how Magic was basically a secondary energy system within the entire world, like the ecosystem of plant/animal/soil/air/water except both simpler and dependant on that ecosystem. A world lush with life seemed to convert excess energy into a different form - a form which in turn could affect the world in unique ways. All living (and some non-living) elements of Earth were involved in this process and so had some magic within them, varying depending on what it was - which was where Witches and Wizards and other magical beings came into the picture. They were nothing more than creatures or plants who naturally, seemingly by chance, were capable of retaining higher levels of this energy and thus gained an increased ability to manipulate that same energy in the world around them. (They didn't touch on the phenomenon of how some crystals and ores channelled the energy, or retained it, or changed it when a wizard used them in spells. That was for the book to go into.)

However. As the world's ecosystem was broken down by chance and human activity alike, its capacity to generate this other type of energy was reduced. Creatures and plants which had evolved to require it, died out. The ones remaining (Muggles and Muggle animals/plants) were those which either required only the most minimal amount of magic to survive or didn't require it at all, no definitive answer had yet been found.

The only reason Harry was still alive was through a quirk of biology, a recessive mutated gene that let him tap directly into the world's core of 'magic' energy instead of subsisting on surface ambient energy levels. It was like living in a land with no water but he had an involuntary, intangible tube linking his stomach to an emergency dam elsewhere. He would survive until every last drop of that emergency reserve was gone, whether he liked it or not. As a magical being, however, his body also did convert a small amount of the food (or chemical energy) he consumed into magic, allowing him to perform small feats of it without tapping that emergency reserve. Of course, this subject naturally led to…

"So, Harry, exactly how many bricks of chocolate would I need to ply you with to get someone turned into a frog?" Mary-Jane kicked back with a smile.

The audience laughed in anticipation and Harry chuckled alongside them, ruffling his hair ruefully.

"More than I could stand to eat." He made a face at the thought, the audience gently swelling with humour on cue.

"But, you could store it up over time, right?" MJ linked her hands, focused and curious. "Isn't that how your, uh, 'core' works? Like a big 'ole magic battery?"

"Yes and no." Harry went for the simplified explanation. "A core might be like a battery, but it's actually a pretty small one. In the old days, Witches and Wizards would have seemed more powerful than they actually were because their batteries were, uh… 'plugged in', as it were. Their batteries were always connected, always recharging, so they never seemed to run out unless the person in question did some huge bit of magic that drained them faster than they could recharge. The ambient magic of the world was high enough back then that as fast as they spent magic in every-day use, their cores were refilled by the world around them."

(He didn't mention his history books which had recorded a persistent decline in magic use, from great works to little household charms. Hogwarts had been built in an age of magical plenty, The Burrow had been built in a time of relative scarcity and the difference was plain to see. Once upon a time, a family like the Weasleys would have lived in a palace, simply because - with magic - they could. But, without ever seeming to realise it, Wizards and Witches had adapted their use of magic so as not to tax the world beyond its capacity. They used less, did without, knew poverty. Some (purebloods) had seen this change and, in their ignorance, blamed weakened bloodlines for it. They'd really just reacted instinctively to the world's growing plight without ever consciously understanding it. Maybe if they had, the world would never have gotten to this state.)

"Nowadays though, there isn't any ambient magic. The last little bit left is like… water at the bottom of a well. You need to work to get at it. And yes, although I can convert energy from food to magic to 'refill' my personal core, or battery, it's an inefficient process. And even if I could store enough to turn someone into a frog? Any magic I put into the world will drain away quickly - like water finding its level. It can 'catch' inside some things, especially living things, but eventually it will leak. For example:" He flicked up an image of Boxy's hair sample, its changing colours slowing down as the newscaster held it.

"This was a simple colour charm. Back in my day, it would have lasted for a minimum of a week before draining away. Here and now? It was already slowing down within a day and it drained away completely within two."

He reached out and tugged at MJ's mess of artificial curls - which immediately erupted into a cascade of colours. The audience exclaimed and gasped over each other as MJ inspected her hair with glee and had some crew members cut off a few locks to pass around. Harry waited until the noise level dropped a bit before raising his hand and wriggling his fingers. He'd been practicing and a careful twist of will was all it took to shake pinpoints of coloured lights from the ends, tiny little fragmented lumos spells so weak that they fizzled out within seconds.

It looked impressive though, judging by the sudden roar of applause. He flicked his fingers and the lights spun tightly together to create an over-large butterfly that faded after two flaps, then a bird, then an amorphous unrecognisable shape as he started to get light-headed. A discreet hand into his pocket (useless what with all the cameras on him, but whatever) gained him a high-energy nutrient bar, specifically designed for him by the GLF. He munched on it, a silent signal to MJ who smoothly moved the show along to invite questions from the audience. For the most part they were reasonably predictable - were unicorns real (yes), really? (yes, really) - or asked about the time in which he'd come from (which, thanks to the historians he'd been rubbing shoulders with, he had a load of images and video to offer), all of which was easy and put most of the burden on MJ, who near-continuously and apparently spontaneously made up jokes and kept the show moving with deft experience, until-

"Mister Potter? Um, Anne Lacey-Gupta, it's totally boner to meet you - uh, sorry, um. I was just wondering… do you think there might there be some people in the world right now - maybe even here in this room - who are Witches and Wizards?"

Harry froze. Looked at her. The audience. The bright lights obscuring cameras linking this moment to the rest of the world.

Might there be? All the Wizards and Witches of his time had died, drained to death by a dying world, but… but Muggleborns were magic-users from a family of non-magic users. It wasn't impossible that Muggles might one day give birth to more... Was it?

Maybe if, one day, the magic ever came back… Witches and Wizards would too. Maybe their genetic material was still being safeguarded by their Muggle cousins, just as magic-powered runes safeguarded magical creature and plant material in his apartment.

If he thought about it like that, then what he'd been doing - with the books and everything - was one of the greatest thing he could be doing.

"…Maybe." He said, much later. The audience had hushed in the face his plainly stricken expression. MJ had lifted a hand as if to reach out to him or bite her nails or signal the camera. Her expression was one of wincing discomfort, of 'oops' taken to the professional level with a side of real empathy. The poor girl who'd asked the original question looked mortified.

He cleared his throat.

"There was something called 'Muggleborns' in my time." He kept his voice level, carried on with the show like he hadn't just been blindsided with tainted hope. Cautiously, MJ played along, settling back in her chair. "They were Witches and Wizards born to normal families. It was quite common. If… if magic ever came back? If the Earth was restored to the point where it could generate it in large quantities again… then maybe, hopefully… yeah. There just might be. And if or when that happens, hopefully the stuff I brought with me will still be around, to help them figure things out."

There was a pleased sort of murmur in the crowd as the questioner sat back down. Still respectful of his reaction, but happy that any one of them might one day be capable of magic.

"Will you be?" MJ asked gently. "I mean… just do what you did before? Just… go back to sleep, wake up when magic returns and be there to help everyone through it?"

Harry suppressed a shudder of pure revulsion.

No.

He'd rather die than go through that again.

"There's not enough magic for that anymore." He said simply. "The place where I was hidden? I was only discovered there because the magic hiding me away, failed. And. I wouldn't, even if I could. Maybe it's selfish, but, I want to live. Even if that means dying alone."

There was another long silence as the audience held their breaths and - for the first time - MJ seemed at an utter loss of how to continue.

Harry shook his head. Tried on a smile.

"So." He lightened his tone. "I can probably manage one last spell. Shall I?"

Like a drowning woman grabbing a lifeline, MJ bounced on board. "Sure! So long as it doesn't involve toads. At least, not toads and me. You can turn Steve - you know my PA, Steve? Yeah, you can turn him into a toad for sure. He gave me lukewarm coffee this morning!"

The audience chuckled, slow to pick up the energy of before.

"Ahhhh yes, no, sorry. That's a bit beyond me." He smiled apologetically. "I can probably manage levitation, though. Well, for a short amount of time. Where's that producer you mentioned earlier…?"

MJ laughed along with the crowed, waving at a woman off to the side who - the cameras locked on to her - was shaking her head furiously, when a voice suddenly shouted out from the audience.

"But can't you fix the planet, though?" The voice was too loud to be natural. Someone had smuggled in an amplifier with the express purpose of getting to speak. The crowd faltered as a camera panned over the audience and found the now-standing speaker. Security began moving toward them.

"If you have all these magic powers - why aren't you fixing things?"

MJ frowned, visibly disapproving of the tone her normally-worshipful audience was taking with her guest. People sitting next to the androgynous speaker were tugging at their clothes as others glared, trying to get them to sit back down.

"I mean, you said, you said you could eat food and put magic back into the world. Inefficient, but it works, right? You could bring the magic back!" The speaker hurried on, desperate to get their question out before they were thrown out.

Harry lifted a hand, silently asking Mary Jane to instruct her people to wait. This wasn't scripted but, if he wanted to minimise people banging down his door looking for exactly this sort of 'magic solution', it needed to be answered.

"I'm afraid not." He said as politely as he could. "When I said it was inefficient, I really did mean it. I can give you a quick, inexact example, based on studies we've done so far: Say I intake 10,000 kilojoules of energy in one day. How much of the energy in that food was taken out of the world to grow? How much came from the sun's input into the process? How much does my body require, to maintain itself and age? How much of what I eat actually gets converted to magic and how much into fat or passed out entirely? The GLF have been studying it and so far, near as they can tell, converting food to magic is one of my body's last priorities, after all else is taken care of. Even if I stuff myself with high-energy food, my body only converts a portion of it - the rest goes into fat storage or is wasted entirely. From what they could measure, if I actively try and focus on converting it, I can generate an approximately equal amount of magic for energy intake - an act which leaves me starving. Of course, this is to be expected since if eating and casting was all it took to maintain or grow magic levels, my people would never have died out in the first place."

This was obviously not the answer the person had been looking for. Their face twisted, angry, almost betrayed.

"Well then what good are you, anyway?"

"Okay, that is enough." MJ shot to her feet. "Security? Thank you."

Security grabbed the person, one placing a beefy hand over their mouth so they couldn't speak as another peeled something off of their throat. The amplifier maybe? The agitator was lifted off their feet and carried out to a background muttering by the audience, not all of it against the person in question although most did applaud as he was removed.

"Mister Potter, I apologise." MJ said formally.

"It's no problem." Harry assured, more uncomfortable with the change in tone than annoyed. "I understand. I only wish it were that easy."

MJ nodded, then frowned lightly out over the audience, as if warning them not to be rude before asking:

"Any more questions?"

Silence. One hand lifted sheepishly into the air. MJ nodded and somewhere a bit of technology focused on the person to pick up their voice.

"Uh, this is kind of dumb, but I was wondering where you get your eyes done?"

MJ relaxed and sat back down. Harry blinked.

"My… my eyes?" He glanced over for guidance. MJ grinned at him, professional cheer and gloss restored.

"Oh yeah, they are gorgeous. But, correct me if I'm wrong…" She flicked the air and new footage played above and around them all. Harry, in the hospital, waking up for the first time. The video played until his eyes opened - then froze.

"…I'm thinkin' you maybe didn't get them done anywhere, did you?"

"…I was born with them, if that's what you mean?" He tried. The audience gasped, whispering chatter breaking out immediately. "They're my mother's," Harry carried on gamely, flicking up a photo of his parents holding his infant self. It was one of the few he'd allowed to be publicly released for his upcoming biography - but previously unseen. The audience exclaimed over it, almost excessively. He could see dozens 'flicking' the image to their personal phones, storing or re-uploading it to other places.

"Oh, wow." MJ admired. "Natural red hair?"

"Yeah."

"Really? No. Really? Oh, wow." She turned to the crowd, throwing her hands up in exaggerated disbelief. "Natural red hair and green eyes, people! All packed up and waiting in his genetic code. Shall we start the bidding at a million dollars?"

The audience laughed.

"I wanna have your baby!" Someone shouted, to more laughter, followed by a flood of me-tooing.

Harry just hunched his shoulders and hoped he didn't look as red as he felt. MJ enjoyed a good laugh at his expense but eventually held up her hands again to quell the storm of semi-serious bidding that had cropped up.

"Okay, but seriously: We are running close to time now and there's still one very important thing left to do." An aide jogged on to the set and handed her a small box made of polished wood. Carved in relief along all sides were iconic buildings of London from his time. Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, St Paul's, Buckingham Palace, Tower Bridge, Trafalgar Square and some old-fashioned cottage thing he didn't recognise. Although no doubt done by a machine, the carving was still exquisitely detailed. Weirdly, the carved images of home carried an emotional punch of with them. He suddenly, intensely, wanted to go home. Wanted to see these buildings again, all of which had lasted hundreds of years even before his time. Surely, surely they'd still be standing now?

"Thank you." He choked, fingers brushing over a double decker bus entering Tower Bridge.

"You're welcome," MJ grinned "but the best bit is inside! Open it, open it!"

He did so, removing the lid to reveal a plush silken interior and a shiny grey-black stone, about the size of his fingernail and the width of a narrow potato chip.

"Thank you." He said again, wondering if this was (another) joke being played on him for laughs. It looked like a tiny chip of haematite, not polished like his aunt's jewellery but rough like the sample in Dudley's 'Minerals of the World' collection (a new rock to throw at Harry every week!). The audience was oohing and ahhing though, so it was maybe something a little more special.

MJ was chattering on about sponsors and private donors and low-grade quality something-or-other but then his thumb brushed against the sliver of unassuming grey rock and it was like touching a live wire. Stinging, burning, rich, power; it drowned everything else out as it flooded his body and crashed into his magic. A teetering eternity later and it was folded implacably under, an ocean of strength below a mirror-still surface. Tamed.

"Woah!" MJ yelped on his left.

"Woah." Harry agreed softly, before something brushed along his right arm. He glanced down at the very green leaf growing steadily out of the polished wood of his chair, then up at the branches sprouting from the top, complete with more leaves and delicate pink flowers that swiftly outnumbered them. He felt something writhe down by his calves and looked to see roots wriggling about looking for something to drink. Somehow, they'd managed not to knock out whatever was keeping the chair afloat.

He blinked, removed his thumb from the stone and took a slow, steadying breath before gently clamping down on the excessive amount of magical bleeding his over-full core was doing.

The chair-tree slowed, then stopped growing entirely. A few leaves fell. Several blossoms followed it.

He cleared his throat softly in the absolutely silent studio before turning a little to face his host.

"What, did you say this was again?" He enquired. His thumb itched to brush over it once more, to tap into the reservoir of power it contained and feel whole once more. More than whole, to feel powerful.

"Unobtanium." Mary Jane breathed before visibly gathering herself. "From Pandora. The natives call 'Mother's bone'." She smiled slowly and more brilliantly than ever before as images flickered and changed around them to reflect the alien world (moon). "And wow, I am so glad we managed to get some!"

"Yeah." Harry could only agree, feeling like he was holding something infinitely precious in his hand. There was a strange aftertaste to the magic inside him now, something he recognised from his testing with the GLF. He had… consumed and converted the energy within the silvery grey rock into the type he was built to use. How could there be so muchenergy in such a tiny little thing? Imagine if he could hold a bigger one… Wait.

This… this might be it. The solution they'd been looking for! A comparatively quick fix. Magic alone wouldn't make the world spring back from its over-polluted, over-mined, over-farmed, over-cleared state… but if they could restore enough magic that it became ambient again?

So many of his recorded spells and artifacts and potions and plants, useless in the current drought of magic, would be able to work again. Natural desalination without any negative side effects or eventual death date. Natural, cheap carbon and toxin scrubbing from the air. Soil restoration. Habitat reclamation. Improved food production, Wizard space for everyone maybe? Merlin, maybe even terraforming and warding of other planets in this system! Through necessity, he and the GLF all been focusing only on plant samples but he had books and books of runes and wards and magical artifact blueprints in a world without Wizards to hide, could magic and science come together to create not only a solution to their world's problems but also something approaching utopia? A world, a civilisation, where exploitation didn't happen because nobody needed for anything?

Maybe it could. And maybe he was holding the catalyst for it right now.

He dragged his attention back to the present just as MJ asked for another demonstration.

"Mind if I borrow your table?" He asked, an idea sneaking in and making him giddy - because he could. He could show her what he was really capable of - more so now than in his own time, even.

"Sure!" His host agreed, already shoving things off of the low construct of glass and stone.

Carefully, he picked up the alien chip of ore - this time taking firmer control over the energy that surged into him - and put aside the box before leaning down to touch the fingers of his other hand to the coffee table. He didn't speak a spell. He didn't need to.

The table rippled and spiked upwards, taking a new form within seconds. Golden hooves flashed under bright studio lights, silvery-white fur glowed from within and a mane and tail tumbled so fluidly that they looked for all the world like liquid moonlight.

A single, pure white horn grew from its forehead.

Its hooves clattered back down as the unicorn took off at a gentle trot, passing alongside the audience which surged to touch it as it passed.

It wasn't real, obviously, as both a Wizard and someone who had seen a real one before, it very clearly lacked something - some sort of purity and beauty that came from something beyond mere form - but it was still a pretty showy piece of transfiguration and animation. It took a flood of power to maintain, a constant invisible stream of it running from him to the transfigured table, keeping it solid and steady, keeping it moving under the collective eyes of the world.

For the people in this room, at least, he'd completely and utterly silenced all possible doubt. He was a Wizard, there was such a thing as magic and he might just save the world with it.

Then the ceiling exploded.

Earth

Michael moved, body reacting before his brain had finished processing but it didn't matter. The ceiling had come down between him and his charge, armed bodies dropping down after it - too many for him to kill what with compact rifles already panning out over the audience and staff.

He fell back, mind turning over the building's schematics, the surrounding transport routes, every way in which these people might try to get his principal out. And they would try to take him, of that he was certain. Assassins didn't travel in groups, nor make so much noise before the hit.

He was already wired into the building's security system, had demanded to be so since the RDA was still reluctant to foot the bill for more bodyguards and Michael actually liked the kid by now, enough to give much more than a professional shit about his safety. All the usual entry points were heavily guarded and almost all of them were registering conflicts - decoys, most likely. Security was being pulled from quiet areas to back up the others, leaving the abducting force at least three moderately clear exits. Thinking quickly, he ordered a dozen men to two of them but only a couple to the third. With a bit of luck, the enemy would think their plan had only partially worked and aim for the easier path out instead of just blowing a wall.

He'd be waiting for them.

Earth

At first it was just noise. People shouting Get down on the ground! Get down on the ground, now! and screams bouncing back. Shots were fired and people fell. Mary Jane's hand wrapped tightly around his arm, nails digging in as she tried to pull him back and out of danger. Scattered people were running towards them, towards the crowd of people who'd jumped down from the hole in the ceiling - some production crew, some security, some audience members. Dust clouds caught the lights and holograms, obscuring half of everything.

The tiny chip of stone in his hand was a flood of power ready to go. But, like a flood, its devastation would not be choosy. Magic took focus and will, even with a wand. Having it shaped and actualised through will alone… His mind scrambled for how best to utilise it, eyes darting about as he marked positions. The unicorn had reverted back into a table the second his focus had been broken but his magic was still riding high, body steadily converting the energy of the stone. More than enough for a stupefy to jump the distance and still work, maybe even for all of them if he threw his magical weight into it-

He felt the pressure build, a spell waiting to happen without a wand to direct it. He raised his free hand, twisting so his body was in front of MJ's, spread his fingers to try and see if he could spread the effect zone of the spell and-

Four of the attacks had grabbed people, pulled them in front of them with guns to their heads. More importantly, their bodies were between them and Harry - any spell would hit the hostages first. If he overpowered the spell in an attempt to hit the whole group? He might just kill the hostages. He hesitated, hand glowing an angry red, magic steadily bleeding from it into the world and just as steadily being replenished.

He wondered just how much magic the tiny chip of stone in his hand could hold, and how fast he was burning through it.

He let the spell fade but prepared himself to summon a shield at a moment's notice. Mike's lectures had him very aware of just how easily those guns could kill him - and how likely it was that they meant to.

Silence, punctuated by the occasional whimper, fell suddenly.

"Now, let's all just calm down…" Mary Jane edged out from behind him, still holding tight to one arm, voice low but professionally smooth. "What exactly are you after, here? The unobtanium? I'm sure-"

"Be quiet." A black-clad woman snapped, her voice distorted by a mask. A snap of her wrist had two men peeling away from the group to stride briskly towards Harry and MJ. They faltered as Harry's hand began to glow again.

"Brother," one of them said lowly, trying not to be heard. "Please. We're not going to hurt you - we're here to rescue you."

MJ's nails bit into his arm. Harry's eyes flickered over the group again. There were too many weapons and too many people, hostages and potential collateral damage that he didn't know how to account for. The spell glowing in his hand right now was a petrificus but he had no idea if he could successfull cast it over the group as a whole or not. If he couldn't? It'd be an attack that could spark retaliatory shooting and that? He couldn't risk. It seemed clear that he wasn't under threat right now though, so…

"All right…" He lowered his hand, let the spell fade. "Just don't hurt anyone else, either."

The man nodded, as did a couple of others in the group. The pair before him took an arm each, detaching Mary Jane, and bundled him back to the group. Harry readied himself to lash out if an order was then given to kill everyone.

There wasn't. The group shouted and threatened, made sure everyone was still down, but retreated out through a set of double-doors - guards dead on the ground beside it - and ran, dragging Harry along with them.

"Don't worry," A short, young sounding masked girl on his right whispered hurriedly as the two men guiding/kidnapping him all but lifted him off his feet to move faster. "Our Great Mother Earth sent us to save you! We'll protect you, no matter what!"

She peeled away before he could do more than stare. Unbidden, he remembered another earnest young woman, 'saving' the actress she loved by shooting her dead. His fist clenched tighter around the tiny chip of stone within it, a promise of power and control that let him go along with things for now, knowing he could stop them if he needed to. Alone in the corridor with the group, he stayed his hand only because of a niggling uncertainty in the back of his mind…

What if they were on his side? He didn't know about 'Mother Earth' but he was someone who was connected to the living essence of the planet. What if these people had formed up specifically for him? Maybe descendants of Muggleborns 'in the know', passing down knowledge of the Wizard Who Slept and a purpose that got a little garbled over time. Or, Merlin, maybe the Earth really had sent them, whispering in their souls so that he was brought to a place he needed to be or…

He didn't know. But, so long as they weren't trying to kill him, he could afford to find out.

The group left the building unchallenged, barrelling out into a dark side-street drenched by stinking rain. The group's all-black clothing included a hooded jacket, which the guy on his left immediately shrugged out of to drape over him instead, protecting him from the toxic rain even as he left his own scalp and arms bare. The action left Harry temporarily held by only one man, who crumpled with a shout as a dark shadow fell from above to land squarely on his shoulders.

The next thing Harry knew was a violent shove - then Mike, his hand wrapped bruisingly hard around his upper arm, catching him and swinging him almost into the wall as he put himself between his charge and the dozen heavily armed men and women around them, half of whom melted out of the night in the same instant. The rain came down even harder, bouncing off hoods and arms and jackets, glistening on wet gun after gun after gun.

Every one of them was pointed at Mike, who in turn had a gun in each hand, pointed out reflexively but unfired. There was no possible way he could shoot everyone before they shot him, but from the set of his shoulders - suddenly much taller and stronger and broader than usual - Harry didn't doubt for a moment that his guard would bloody well try.

"Hold!" The first female from inside the studio shouted. "We mustn't hit the Earth Child! Check your aim!"

A few people shifted and Harry swallowed tightly as he saw them training their guns more carefully on Mike, so that a bullet through the man wouldn't hit Harry.

"Step away from the Earth Child, slaver!" The woman moved forward, a smaller gun in hand and pointed only slightly at the two of them as she gestured with her right. She glanced past Mike almost immediately, searching out Harry's alarmed gaze.

"Don't be afraid." She soothed, voice dropping from unflinching strength to something like what a policewoman might sound like when trying to calm a victim. "We're not your enemy."

Harry swallowed tightly.

"So you say." He said shortly. "But a dozen odd rifles, aimed directly at one of the few friends I have in the world, isn't exactly reassuring me of your good intentions."

The woman's body tensed, frustration or maybe anger, before she wrenched off her mask to reveal smooth dark skin and quick, intelligent eyes.

"He's private military." She explained hastily, flickering watchful eyes at the man but seemingly incapable of keeping her gaze from Harry for long. "SecOps. RDA. Earth-Killers, every one of them. He works for the people keeping you captive - I'm sure he's nice to you, but - he works for the people who've got you locked up, legally if not physically. They don't let you out without guards, do they? They've made you their ward without your permission. They want to keep you away from the world, to stifle the aid you could bring! They're evil, real evil in human form and they will destroy you if we don't get you out. Please, we are your brothers and sisters, your family. Children of Gaia, united in our defence of her, our love for her. She has sent you to us, will you ignore her?! Chose the RDA over her?"

Her voice rose, passion and hate and belief thick and choking. There was something inherently alarming about people who lived in a reality you didn't share.

"Well, the RDA's never pointed guns at me." He parried, ducking his head to try and soften his words, to seem reasonable, like everyone was sane here and just having a calm conversation over a difference of opinion. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, thinking on his feet, searching for a way out of this that didn't involve blood leaking efficiently into the gutter. "I don't particularly like them - that's why I've been working with the GLF's R&D and not the RDA's. I've been doing everything I can to help the planet - to help, Gaia. And, I'm sure you're trying to help too - but I need you to understand that right now? You're scaring me."

Some of the hooded people shifted, uncomfortable or guilty - or maybe just restless at standing around so long. The rest didn't seem moved. The woman - the seeming leader - didn't respond at all beyond glaring at Mike as though Harry's refusal to leap into their collective arms was entirely his fault.

"Please." Harry pitched his voice low, like he was trying to calm Fang down from an over-enthusiastic greeting. "Mike has been looking after me for almost a year now. I'm having a hard enough time as it is without seeing him killed in front of me. So, so please. Let's just… all take it down a notch and maybe try talking before shooting."

For a second, he thought it might just work. Rifles and guns were wavering, drooping as members of the group looked to one another for guidance.

Then one of them stiffened suddenly, head cocking as he listened to something inaudible to Harry.

"SecOps are on their way!" He reported urgently, every gun snapping back up with alarm. "Misha says they're comin' in from all sides, we gotta go."

"Alright." The leader woman said soberly, eyes finding Harry's in - apparently genuine - apology. "I'm sorry, little brother." She raised her gun to shoot, Mike snapped his own over in reaction and Harry-

Harry focused.

The world melted away around them, the rain pausing in mid-air before falling up and away. The woman's gun melted away too, trigger depressing a hair too late.

The grimy pockmarked walls of the alley ceased to exist, replaced by one of the valleys outside Hogwarts. The castle itself was carefully excluded from the illusion he was pouring power into. He focused instead on the feel of soft, lush grass underneath them, growing from rich soil. Of warm sunlight offset by a cool, clear, clean breeze. Of air that smelled faintly of cut grass and fainter still of a delicious feast in the distance. Of puffy white clouds skating under an impossibly blue sky, of mountains unshrouded by fog in one direction, an autumnal forest in another, the great lake in a third and hills spilling ever onward in the last, the rooftops of Hogsmeade just visible in the distance.

The group stumbled apart in shock. Many tore off their masks, then hoods, desperate to feel the sun and wind on their bare skin. More than a few dropped to their knees, hands sinking into soft warm soil and digging it up like it was beyond precious. "Eden!" One cried, bowing his head to press into the soil, worshipping and blissful. At least two were crying, one quite noisily. One man looked around, looked hard at Harry, then put his rifle on the ground where it was swiftly overgrown with grass and tiny wildflowers. Impressed, many more did the same. A few kept tight hold of theirs though, and kept them pointed in Mike's direction.

Carefully, Harry stepped around Mike and pushed his arms down. He and his bodyguard exchanged a quick look, a plea for trust in Harry's eyes and an edgy readiness in Mike's.

Harry sat down, cross-legged like any of a dozen times he and the rest of his quidditch team had sat to wait out one of Oliver's over-long impassioned speeches. He tugged Mike down too, but the best his guard could manage was a wary sort of crouch, every muscle tense and ready to spring.

This was… not difficult, to maintain, but it needed a good deal of concentration. The illusion was a blend of conjuration, wizard space and magical trickery, more an amalgamation of imagination and will than any particular spell. As a result, it downright hemorrhaged magic into the world, as fast as he could drain and convert the energy of the ore in his hand. Already, the power within the alien material had dropped from 'ocean' levels to 'sea'. Its capacity was not infinite and he was burning through it fast.

"Okay, listen." He said firmly. If he couldn't talk them around, then he only needed to stall them long enough for the SecOp people to arrive. "I understand that you're desperate. That the world is dying and it seems like nobody gives a shit and that this" He gestured at the whole guns/kidnapping/murder thing "is the only way to do anything about it. I know how that feels, I do!" He raised his voice, overriding protests he didn't have the time or patience to listen to.

"I walked to my death once, believing it was the only way to protect the people I cared about from a madman. I know what it's like, to be desperate!"

Abruptly realising he was shouting now, he lowered his voice to wide eyes. At least he had their attention, even if a few of them were now regarding him with as much worship as they had the soil.

"I do." He reaffirmed. "And I know how drastic measures can seem downright sensible then. It's like your field of options narrows until there are no options. But. I promise you, this is not the way to do things. When you kill people, the people left behind don't just get frightened - they get angry. They fight back. Your message gets lost in the body count you leave behind, your- your praiseworthy purpose gets dismissed as terrorist zeal."

He glanced around, feeling the strain of keeping this going weary his insides. He looked at the people watching him with wide eyes, some with hands clasped in prayer, others with guns held only loosely now. None of them were crazy and certainly none of them were bad people the way the Death Eaters of his own time had been. They were just… they were just crusaders like Hermione. Too much passion and need to change things for the better, to be restrained by a world that had no place for them. They wanted to help just as much as Madeline and her crew of scientists, they'd just… found a different path or maybe, like Buddy and Mia, had never had the chance to walk another. Denied or squandered the chance for education or money or power… this had been their only real option when they decided to make a change.

And now he had to try and change their very life perspective before it got them all killed by an unforgiving legal system - or group of RDA-owned soldiers.

"But, what can we do?" Appealed a woman with ruddy skin and no hair at all, not even eyelashes.

Harry bit his lip. This was quite possibly the most stupid thing he could say, but:

"Help me." He said simply. "Work with me. We can find a way to do this, within the law, without hurting anyone." Especially, he thought, if he could just get a hold of more of this incredible, unbelievable ore. With power like this at his fingertips… he wasn't sure there was anything he wouldn't be able to do.

Slowly, people started nodding.

He let out a breath, nodded back. Gently, thankfully, the sea of power now a small lake, he let the illusion go.

A ring of rifles met them, a thud of air and scattered rain slapped down from something flying above them and three of those who'd kept a grip on their guns snapped them up to fire, startled and betrayed.

The ring of rifles opened fire first. Michael threw himself over his charge, bodily protecting him from stray bullets as half of Harry's would-be kidnappers fell with sprays of blood and the other half clawed desperately at the ground where moments before, paradise had been. A side effect of the sudden massive drain of magic into the area had reverted the concrete beneath them into lumpy soil through which a scattering of long-trapped seeds were now growing, real and living in the gloom.

The SecOps moved in, arresting and restraining, hauling people and bodies out and Harry pushed futilely at Michael's dead weight.

"You can get off now." He muttered, trying to shut away the feeling that he'd just betrayed these people, some of whom were still calling back to him in worship or for help.

"Sir? Can I give you hand?" Footsteps clomped closer - then stuttered.

"Shit. MEDIC! GET A MEDIC HERE, NOW!"

"What..?" Harry asked, realising even as he spoke.

Mike wasn't moving. Wasn't speaking. Wasn't checking if he was okay or waving off any ridiculously unnecessary medic because he'd just been 'clipped with a bit of shrapnel for fuck's sake'...

"Lumos."

Bright white light flared into being, shifting and floating formlessly in the air above and around them.

Mike was bleeding, dark red saturating the back and sides of his grey shirt, flowing steadily from holes that had been punched into him as he'd protected his charge. His skin was grey and even as medics rushed to his side, his breathing slowed… and stopped.

"Michael!"

Earth

HEY, you know what? I think this story is actually moving faster than I thought it would. Just a few more chapters before Pandora.

ALRIGHT! So, there have been several people who have expressed confusion as to the whole 'Harry's magic core + the world's magic core + excess energy wot?' thing and how it all interacts and why it means Harry can't do X Y or Z and most of that is my fault for not explaining it clearly enough. (Although in my somewhat weak defence, it's hard to explain something through a character who doesn't yet himself know exactly what's going on.)

This chapter here, with Mary Jane, is my attempt to outline it as clearly and completely as I can. I will now consider the matter closed and there will be no further attempts to explain the headcanon of this world and how Conservation of Energy applies to magic and the planetary eco/energy system.

That said: there's always room for improvement so if you think something above or earlier could be edited to explain the matter a bit more clearly? Please do let me know how, or which bit is still causing confusion. If you can phrase it more coherently than I have, I will gladly incorporate it for all our sakes. :)

Sorry about Michael.