Have You Ever Seen the Rain?

Chapter Thirty Seven: Seven Nation Army

I would just like to offer a quick disclaimer saying that if there is any military terminology used incorrectly here are entirely my fault due to a lack of knowledge of the subject.

I.

"At ease men," a leading military official, well-dressed, with several honours to his name, a veteran of multiple conflicts, made his way into the barracks of the various soldiers around the room. "My name is General Chadwick Barnes. A few of you may already know who I am."

"Yessir," several men answered Barnes. There was around twenty in the room, all currently on their downtime.

"Now I have been told you are Janus Five. Aka the best damn taskforce in the entire British Army. Am I correct?"

"Yessir," the chorus was louder this time.

"Well then it looks like I've come to the right place, Janus Five. Who's your Sergeant?"

"That would be me, Sir."

"What's your name, Sergeant?"

"Davis, Sir. Theo Davis," Davis said, adjusting his hat. The man was around twenty three, a few years older than his younger half-sister who was currently at university. He had instantly risen to the top of the ranks, having shown talent and promise in training, and it didn't take him long to join Janus Five. "Reporting for duty, Sir."

"Are your men ready for a combat operation, Sergeant?"

"With all due respect, sir, we just returned from deployment, Sir," said Davis. "Some of these men have families they'd like to visit."

"Well they'll have to tell their families to wait then, won't they?"

"Yessir. Where are we headed?"

"You don't have to worry about going overseas, Sergeant. It's an internal op. Somewhere in the country. Remote area."

"Sir?"

"That sounds a lot like a question, Sergeant."

"No Sir."

"That's better. Gather your men, we roll out at nineteen hundred. Choppers'll take us there and get us out, briefing will follow shortly. You have two primary targets, three secondary ones. This is a weapons hot mission. Understood?"

"Sir, I'm going to need more details than that."

"They'll come at the briefing, Davis," said Barnes. "One more job. The most I can give you is the call-sign that you'll be running this op on."

"What's that, Sir?"

"Operation Magic."

"Magic, Sir?" Davis asked, remembering the dreams that his half-sister told him about. The dreams about the boy with the black hair and the mansion on the hill.

"That's right, Davis. Magic."

II.

The first thing that Harry noticed when he arrived in the graveyard, in the dead of night, with Viktor and Fleur in tow, was the distinct lack of stars. "Something's wrong," said Fleur, almost immediately. "There should be stars."

"I was beginning to notice that as well… do you reckon it's a spell?"

"A spell that could make the stars go away?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow. "I don't like it. No, there's something else at work here."

"There were no stars last night at Hogwarts, either," Krum pointed out.

"I didn't notice…" said Harry. "Do you think it's whatever controlling Hogwarts' weather malfunctioning?"

"No, we put that back to normal afterwards," said Fleur, glancing up across at the Riddle house. "Look. There's a group of people in cloaks up there…"

"Death Eaters," said Harry with a scowl. "They must have answered the call…"

"Which means…" Viktor said.

"Voldemort," Harry said. "Of course. Of course, it was Voldemort who wanted my brother. He probably put his name in the cup, too. Somehow. Using somebody…"

"Moody," Fleur said. "I noticed he always had to take a swig from his flask. Now he does that anyway… but that would be the perfect cover for polyjuice."

"It was probably Moody that was following us before we lost him. And I bet he tripped Viktor as well," said Harry. "And he was the one who voted against Dumbledore, remember? I knew something was up. But if he's not Moody… then who is he?"

III.

"Barty Crouch Junior, a pleasure to make your acquaintance," the face of the son of Barty Crouch Sr. looked up at James Potter and Severus Snape, having just transformed back from his guise that he had been living in all year. "At last we meet properly. James Potter. The Father of the Boy Who Lived! It is an honour to meet someone whose son defeated The Dark Lord, I must say…"

"Shut up," said James. "We spotted you in the maze and we noticed that we haven't heard from my son. Where is he?"

"Oh, I believe you'll be waiting for that answer for a long time to come," said Crouch Jr, laughing. "Tell me, why is father not here? He would have loved to see this."

"Barty Crouch Sr is currently in the hospital wing, having collapsed during the tournament," said Snape, pressing his wand against Crouch Jr. "Now you will tell us. Where is Potter?"

"He's right there," said Crouch Junior, laughing as he looked up at the father, knowing full well what Snape meant. "You're going to have to be more specific, Sevvie."

"Shut up," said Snape, striking Crouch Jr. with the back of his hand. "Polyjuice is the weapon of a coward."

"Says the man who has defected to join Dumbledore," said Barty Crouch Jr. "You are the biggest coward of all of us, Sevvie. No. You have me all wrong. I am not a coward. I am in fact, The Dark Lord's most loyal servant."

"How do you figure?" James asked.

"I was the one who brought Potter to him. Delivered to him. I am the reason that by the time this conversation has finished," he said, an evil, crooked smile on his face. "The Dark Lord will have risen, and Samuel Potter will be dead. You will never, ever find out his whereabouts from me."

Before James and Severus could question him further, Crouch Jr. withered, having bitten on something. It wasn't long before he was foaming at the mouth and erupted into a seizure. "No, no, no, no!" James exclaimed anxiously, shaking the body of Crouch Jr. "No! You bastard!"

"Let it go, Potter," Severus said. "He's dead. Suicide. I suppose he knew there was only one place he was ever going to end up and would rather die than return there."

"Harry's still in the maze," realised James. "If we can get a message to him…"

"Harry will have most likely have gone after Samuel by now," said Severus, "He is smart enough to find a way. Relax, Potter. From my personal experience, he is considerably well equipped to handle any situation. I would not worry."

"You know he is The Man in the Suit?"

"I didn't need to know that to praise him," Severus said. "But I have known since the beginning. It is with begrudging acceptance that I praise him, but Harry has proved to me that he is far more than just a Potter. And you will have to live your whole life knowing that you could have been there for him. But you weren't."

"I was cursed…." James said, even though he knew that there was no use arguing.

"You have earned a second chance, Potter. Here's a tip from an expert in second chances," Severus said, turning away to alert Dumbledore as to the present situation. "Don't waste it."

IV.

Keeping their heads low, Harry, Fleur and Viktor advanced through the tombstones. Harry pushed through, edging closer, leading the way. The Death Eaters were too busy surrounding an empty circle around a statue, where his brother was held up, alone and Harry took great care to notice that it was Peter Pettigrew, who had somehow escaped from Azkaban under the nose of everyone, with their attention focused on Hogwarts and the Triwizard Tournament, but it was the figure next to him that held Harry's interest even more. It was one of the most pale men he had ever seen his life, and although he did not look quite as intimidating as Mordred, on a scale of 1-Mordred, Harry considered that he was probably about a 7. The brother of the Boy Who Lived nodded at Fleur and Viktor, gesturing for them to wait when they were close enough to earshot.

"Ah, my loyal Death Eaters," Voldemort was saying. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance once more. I notice that there are a few among our number who are not with us tonight, but their absences can be explained. Apart from of course, Igor Karkaroff."

"My Lord," another voice, who Harry identified as Avery, who had somehow been let go from custody despite being caught red-handed, responded, "Karkaroff has done a runner. He left on the eve of the final task. My men intercepted him at Dover, he was about to cross the channel the muggle way…"

Viktor glanced at Harry, whispering. "We cannot let them get away with this. My Headmaster is a good man now."

"We won't," Harry said, glancing into his pocket where he realised that he still held Excalibur, having been meaning to return it to Arthur, but was not yet granted the opportunity to do so. "Wait… what's that? Oh no, Sam, what did you do?"

Harry's eyes had zeroed in on the Spear of Destiny in Voldemort's hands. How Sam had ended up with the Spear and how it had fallen into Voldemort's hands, Harry wasn't sure, but he estimated that Mordred probably had put some sort of backup plan in place just in case something had gone wrong with his initial objective, and even though he had been swallowed up by whatever demon had emerged from hell itself, Voldemort was there to carry out his means. And chances were that Voldemort had the resources to use the Spear of Destiny as well. "What do we do now?" Fleur said, glancing across at Harry, as Voldemort cut down his brother from where he was held, using the Spear to bring him down. It had started to rain almost as soon as they had arrived, so Sam hit the muddy floor, where he was kicked over by Riddle.

"Wait for my signal. And I'm assuming you know what to do now," Harry said, glancing at Fleur, who nodded. He climbed to his feet and advanced brazenly through the Death Eaters, pushing them aside as he did so. "Excuse me…. Coming through. Sorry, ah, Nott, nice to see you! Your son's in my year! I don't know him much but he's getting good grades. Now… here we are, almost through, excuse me Malfoy…. Hello there, Voldemort! Nice to finally meet your acquaintance. I've heard so much about you."

The Death Eaters were stunned by the boldness of Harry, who had just forced his way through into the centre circle of their organization. "And who might this be?" Voldemort said, noticing Harry's presence at last. "You must be the brother. Harry Potter. You are brave, boy. To do what you have just done. Anybody else and I might have killed you for the very offence. But no, you are most certainly an interesting exception. I keep hearing your brother claiming that you are supposedly going to, what was it, 'End Me like he Ended Mordred?' That certainly must be a most fascinating tale."

"It was, yeah," Harry said. "I mean, he was Mordred, but he wasn't exactly a big deal. Brushed him aside fairly easily. He tried to use that Spear. Didn't work out too well for him, did it?"

"But I am not Mordred," Voldemort sensed where Harry was going with this. "And you are outnumbered, Mr. Potter. Many times over. You cannot possibly hope to survive."

"Oh but here's the thing. Mordred said exactly the same thing," said Harry. "Something along the lines of being hopelessly outnumbered. But you know what? I wasn't exactly paying attention. Because the numbers. You may have all the soldiers you want in the world, it doesn't matter about that. It doesn't matter. Nobody wants your regime! Even if you do defeat me you don't have the power to defeat every single person on the planet! There will always be someone to resist. I sound like a broken record, but here's a piece of advice. Quit while you're ahead. You got your body back, go retire. Do normal stuff. Leave the Dark Lord stuff to the professionals."

"How dare you insult me, Potter! I could have Chosen you. Selected you for greatness. Do you know why I didn't leave my mark upon you? Because you are weak. Pathetic. I sensed it at your birth and I sense it now," Voldemort said. "You are brave but foolish. Misguided. And this is what I say to you now. You have one choice. Join me. Or die."

"If I had a pound for every time I've heard that…" Harry said, dodging Voldemort's resulting Avada Kedavra that he hurled at Harry. The curse hit a gravestone slightly in front of where the elder Nott was standing, and then at that point, music kicked into play. At this point, Harry should have gotten tired of playing music in front of bad guys, but it never seemed to get old, especially when they were wizards. Their confused reactions to hearing music blast through the air towards them was completely unexpected. But what concerned Harry more was it was a song that he had not heard before, chosen from Fleur. It didn't take him long to work out that the song was singing something about an Uptown Funk, but it seemed like an unlikely choice for Fleur Delacour to play. If he had been more omnipresent he would have made an observation as to how a song released in 2015 could be found being played several years earlier in 1995, but then he would have simply dismissed that as just another magical oddity, like the stars going out above The Riddle House. The Death Eaters confused reactions was enough to give Fleur and Viktor the element of surprise as they quickly stunned more than double their number, reducing the deficit as they took them by surprise. In that time, Sam had managed to work his way free and escape from captivity, finding Harry. "What's up with the music? This isn't like anything you normally play…"

"Jesus Christ, Sam, I'm kind of a little busy right now," said Harry, firing another spell back at Voldemort who returned with another blast of the killing curse in his wand. He wielded the Spear one-handed, spinning it about. "Since why did you decide it would be a good idea to bring the Spear of freaking Destiny into the Tournament? Don't you know how dangerous that is?"

"I'm sorry!" Sam said, standing back to back with Harry. "I don't know, I was going to hand it over to Dumbledore but I got a little distracted…"

"Fine," Harry said. "I believe you, the Spear can be mighty persuasive when it wants to be, I'm assuming this was Mordred's Plan B? Get the Spear to Riddle?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "I think. Something like that. Get the Spear to Voldemort, and then I don't know what from there. Hope that when he unmakes reality he can find a way to bring Mordred back, I guess."

"How did you get here? Triwizard Cup a Portkey, am I right?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," said Sam.

"Well here's what we're going to do," said Harry. "On the count of three, you are going to turn around and run to wherever you landed. Fleur and Viktor will provide covering fire and that should take you back to Hogwarts…"

"What about you?"

"I've got to make sure that there is a Hogwarts to return to."

"But…"

"Go!" Harry shoved him back through the gap in the Death Eater ranks that Fleur and Viktor had cleared. Joining them, the Triwizard Champions ushered in a defensive retreat, leaving Harry to fend for himself.

"Potter!" Voldemort spun the Spear around, catching Harry and knocking him back, landing in a messy heap at the feet of Lucius Malfoy. The Dark Lord vanished from view, presumably having apparated to a closer reach of The Boy Who Lived, and Harry feared for his friends and brother. And then there was nothing for a second, followed by everything. Harry watched as Voldemort and Sam's spells met in the middle, the Death Eaters themselves awed by what was transpiring, the green clashing against the red.

"Of course," Harry said, climbing to his feet instantly. Using his hands, he yanked Malfoy off the floor where he was able to punch the Death Eater in the face, and to nobody in particular, he elaborated, "Their wands are brothers... Ollivander, you genius! That's too good to be a coincidence."

And then Harry's world changed forever. He immediately saw the green holographic light of a sniper rifle pointed at his stomach, that belonging to several sniper rifles in fact, and one-by-one, they were unleashed on the targets around him of the Death Eaters. There had been a big enough gap in the crowd to see the soldiers hit their marks, as Harry scrambled for cover as the Death Eaters were taken out one by one. Eventually, as Voldemort, Sam, Fleur and Viktor exchanged blows further down the graveyard and out of sight of the Death Eaters and the new arrivals, the wizards were picked off one by one thanks to the muggle soldiers keeping them by surprise. A few managed to panic and apparate away in time, caught between the choice of their own survival or helping their Master. Nott was caught with a stray bullet that sent him plunging to the floor on top of Harry, who used his wounded body for cover from the soldiers. 'How… how have they found out about us? How did they know?' Harry couldn't help but wonder as to why the muggles had arrived, wondering if there was some lingering connection to Fletcher's theft of the helicopter that he'd used to liberate Hogwarts, and wondered if he'd ever gotten around to returning them. But then that did not explain how the muggles found the location of Voldemort before the Ministry or the Order, or hell, even himself, found him.

"Weapons Hold! Weapons Hold," ordered a voice that sounded vaguely familiar to one that Harry had heard before, but couldn't place where off the top of his head. The soldier advanced slowly through the crowd ahead of everyone else, and eventually stumbled atop Nott's body. Nott by now had passed out from the blooded wound that was holding him back. The Sergeant pushed the body off Nott, and pointed his gun in Harry's face. "You… Wait. I feel like I should know you. On your feet."

He hauled Harry to his feet, and two soldiers surrounded them. "Sergeant Davis, Sir, Priority One has been located," said another man. "He appears to engaged in some kind of lightshow with three non-targets… Permission to engage?"

"Wait!" Harry said, suddenly realising. "Wait! You wouldn't happen to be related to Tatiana Davis, would you, Sergeant?"

"How do you know that name?"

"The name's Harry Potter, Sir."

"Potter," said Davis, his eyes widening. "So, you're the boy who she keeps talking about. The one who saved her."

"She remembered," Harry was relieved to hear.

"Bits and pieces, she was able to put the rest together with the help of her boyfriend, Scott," said Davis. "So what are you, some kind of wizard?"

"Some kind of wizard, yeah…" Harry said, having wondered what had become of both of the two muggles who had helped save him. "You came here wanting to kill Voldemort, correct?"

"If that is his name."

"Sir, we should be concentrating on the target, Priority One…"

"Stand down soldier," Davis ordered, glancing at Harry. "You saved my half-sister's life. From what I don't know. I don't know why you made her forget, or how, but I'm inclined to believe that you had good reason to. And would I be correct in assuming that you want Priority One dead as much as we do?"

"That would be correct," said Harry. "Assuming you mean Voldemort."

"Yes. We received an anonymous tip concerning his whereabouts, as well as data that linked him to several reported crimes. Normally the military doesn't intervene on home soil, but we had orders… Now. You know the target better than we do, I'm assuming. How do you suggest we proceed?"

"Give me five minutes," said Harry. "Five minutes to get my friends out of here and then I can help you take him down."

"Sir, we shouldn't be engaging with a Priority Target…"

"You had me down as a Priority Target?"

"You are the Man in the Suit, correct? The vigilante? Your actions in our community have not gone unnoticed."

"I'm not sure how you worked that out, but, I guess…"

"Well, in that case," said Davis. "You are a Priority Target. But given the circumstances… Five minutes, you said?"

"Five minutes," said Harry. "Trust me, you need me on your side, you don't know what you're dealing with."

"Well what are you waiting for?" Davis said. "I can delay for five minutes. We're ordered to pull out in seven. There's an air strike coming in, so if you're not out by then…"

"Let's get this done," Harry said, vanishing from view in front of Davis, leaving the soldiers behind to check the bodies. He re-appeared in front of Voldemort, where the connection between Sam and Riddle's wands had just finished, leaving him with nothing but his own wand to defend himself with. Fleur and Viktor had already reached the Portkey. Shouting, Harry yelled at them, "Go! I'll find another way!"

They looked at him, and he repeated his desire for them to leave after exchanging another flurry of spells with Voldemort. "So… you have chosen to let your friends escape and take the fall for them. No matter. I will kill you, and then, I will go to Hogwarts, and kill them."

"I'd like to see you try," Harry said, as Voldemort wielded the Spear.

"I notice your muggle allies have intervened. Do not worry. I will destroy them like I have destroyed them in the past. They are of no match for Voldemort."

"You know, when you start to talk in third person, you've really lost me," said Harry. "But… on second thoughts. NOW!"

The soldiers opened fire at Voldemort. The Dark Lord was quick to avoid or shield himself against the bullets, but one struck him in the arm, causing him to lose his grip on the Spear of Destiny. Instantly, Voldemort lunged for it, trying to recover, but Harry got there first, seized it, even though knowing full well that if he touched the Spear again with his bare hands, there would be consequences. Consequences that he was well and truly prepared to meet. He spun the Spear around in his both hands, but was blasted back across the floor by Voldemort, who quickly sent the nearby soldiers blasting back, among them Tatiana's half-brother. Harry began counting down the clock, noticing that a few soldiers were already retreating, and an idea began to form in his head, he had to be certain, he had to be sure that there was no way Voldemort was ever going to come back again. He had brought up the possibility of horcruxes long before, but the Spear of Destiny was sort of a catch-all weapon. Once you were killed by it, there was no way of coming back, regardless of what backup plans you had in place. Harry knew that an air strike would not kill Voldemort for good, but he also knew that he needed to keep Voldemort distracted long enough from the incoming missiles in case he wasn't able to kill him.

His no-killing rule had been dismissed long ago. He tried to take people alive where possible but he reasoned with people like Voldemort and Mordred there were exceptions, just as there had been exceptions for anyone who tried to harm his friends or family, which is something that Voldemort seemed to be quite intent on doing to his brother. So, after weighing up the options, if that meant he could potentially kill Voldemort and Mordred in the space of a couple of days, removing two of the evillest men the wizarding world ever knew at the cost of his own life? He damn well would take it. Harry found himself back, next to Sergeant Davis. "Sergeant… I need your men to get the hell out of here, now. I've got this!"

"But what about the strike?"

"You think Voldemort's not going to see an air strike coming?" said Harry. "Someone's got to keep him distracted long enough."

"Sir," Davis couldn't help but offer a salute.

"Don't… Don't salute," said Harry with a sigh. "I'm not your ranking officer. Just get your men out. Now."

"Yessir," Davis insisted, and began to turn around from his hiding place. "What about Tatiana? Should I tell her?"

"Tell her as much as you want, Sergeant…." Harry said. "I had to wipe her memory because of the statue of secrecy. Given how many soldiers have seen this lightshow I'm pretty sure we can safely say the statute of secrecy is now well and truly broken."

"In that case," said Davis. "Good hunting."

"Good hunting," Harry nodded back, and Davis fired several bullets from his gun over cover, not really looking where they were headed. Harry returned fire too with his wand, drawing Voldemort away from the soldiers as he did so. Davis quickly got in touch with someone, presumably whoever was operating wherever the missile was coming from over the phone, and Harry began to accept his fate. But he vowed, not before Voldemort would meet his.

Lunging forward with the Spear of Destiny, Harry weaved his way in and out of Voldemort's onslaught of spells which came at a rapid-fire pace. He was swift, quick to counter them, running forward as he did so. Eventually he was in a close enough position to the Dark Lord to carry out his intended plan. "Here goes nothing," he said to nobody in particular, more to himself than anything, and used his wand to hurl several gravestones at Voldemort, ripping them off the ground as they attacked The Dark Lord pretty much simultaneously. Using the distraction, Harry pulled out Excalibur from his pocket, larger on the inside, and wielded both weapons firmly in both hands, a feat barely made possible but he was sure that the power of both, held together in one place for long enough, would be enough to deliver the killer blow.

By now Harry could almost hear the incoming missile, and knew he had to step up the pace. Driving both the Sword and Spear with all the strength he could muster into Voldemort's black heart, Harry could hear the screams of the dying man as he struggled to keep them in place. The screams, Harry soon realised, were coming from himself as well, as Voldemort was just able to cast off one last spell before the life fell from his eyes, one last defiant Crucio, sending Harry collapsing to the floor in agony. Without the Crucio Harry probably could have apparated away or at the very least used his wand to put up some sort of shield against the missile to blunt the impact, but that was not the case as he had already dropped his wand in favour of wielding both artefacts and now he no longer had access to both. 'This is it…' Harry thought, embracing the inevitable. 'This is how I die.'

He spread his arms, withering in pain, as wide as he could, adopting a 'come at me' stance, one last gesture of defiance, before the missile hit him and he knew nothing more. Nothing but darkness…

….

…

..

.

…For a total of one hundred and sixty-four seconds. Harry came coughing and wheezing back to life in the wreckage of the blast, as soldiers were swarming over the ruins, searching for dead bodies. They quickly found Voldemort's, or what was left of it, but Harry's seemed to be harder to find. They didn't seem to recognise his cries for help either, despite the fact that he was staring directly at them, and as close to them as he could possibly be. He was in full health too, so that was something, but the fact of the matter was – he was not dead.

Unless he was. And this was the afterlife. Had he just become a Ghost? No. He could see his clothes and what he was wearing. He was far too flesh-like to be a ghost, even though, to his horror, when he put his hand through his stomach, there was nothing there at all. No flesh, no wounds, he was practically transparent. He might as well have been a Ghost, but then, that didn't explain why the soldiers couldn't see him. Unless muggles couldn't see Ghosts? That seemed to serve as a stark reminder.

"Don't worry," said a voice from behind him that he knew very well. "You're not a Ghost."

Harry spun around to come face to face with a direct replica of himself. He looked the same, acted the same, and hell, even talked the same. "Then… what am I?"

"That's a Boring, boring question, and not the one that you should be concerning yourself with right this moment," said the Not-Harry. "In fact, you know full well of the questions that you should be concerned with this moment. Remember what happened the last time we met?"

"…You. I know you. You're him, aren't you? The Not-Riddle."

"I thought you'd have figured out who I was by now."

"Death?"

"Close, but no cigar, I'm afraid. Death's far too busy to deal with the likes of you."

Harry's eyes dawned in realisation, a word filtering back to him from what seemed like a lifetime ago. "You're The Fisher King."

"Ten points to Ravenclaw! Congratulations. I am The Fisher King indeed. Good to know you're not as dumb as you look. Grindelwald took years."

"I'll take that as a compliment," said Harry. "So. Mr. Fisher King. What question was it that you wanted me to answer? I'm here, aren't I? You've got me right where you want me. It's not as if I'm going anywhere any time soon."

"I've asked you once before," said The Fisher King with a cool, calculated smile. "And I will ask you again. All you have to do is tell me… which world is real, and which world is not."

"But that's easy. This world is real."

"Are you sure, Mr. Potter? Are you quite sure?"

"Yes."

"Is that your final answer?"

"Don't I get three guesses?"

"Your third guess has expired. You only get two," said The Fisher King. "Sorry. Wish I could make the rules, but fact of the matter is, I can't. So, if you get this one wrong…"

"It's not wrong. You're bluffing. This is the real world. I've lived here all my life. I know what's real. That is my final answer. This world is real."

The Fisher King waited for a moment, leaving Harry to await and find out whether his fate was pre-determined. He couldn't think of another possible world – apart from maybe his dreams, but then he seemed to remember that already having been dismissed as not real, by himself or The Fisher King himself, he couldn't recall. But what other worlds were out there? What other worlds were out there where he was anything but this version of Harry Potter? It was hard to believe, even for someone who had been raised on a healthy diet of reality-hopping shows like Star Trek and its spinoffs.

"I hate to break it to you," said The Fisher King. "But this isn't just the only world out there where there is a Harry Potter. You're one version among millions of Harry Potters, stretching wide across the multiverse, just like there are millions of me. But that's something different. This is your story. This is your reality. Or should I say. Not your reality. This isn't reality at all."

"So, you're saying all this time, all sixteen years… it's been a lie? Impossible."

"Incorrect," said The Fisher King. "It hasn't all been a lie. It's happened. It's just that it isn't real."

"That makes no sense at all."

"It doesn't have to make sense," insisted The Fisher King.

"But if this isn't the real world… then what is?"

"I see what you did there, pity it was never going to work," said The Fisher King. "But this world, this world, isn't real. There are multiverses and then there are realities. This is a fake reality. I'm about to show you reality. You just have to guess which one of which is the one where you belong. Are you ready?"

To Be Continued…

I wanted to bring the army into play somehow and I felt like this was the best way to do it. I know they're not likely to get involved in homeland incidents until it becomes confirmed – it'd be like the National Guard being around before the Chitauri had showed up at the Battle of New York in The Avengers, but the way I see it is that their officials were at least aware of magic and were able to dispatch the soldiers when they spotted Voldemort who they have a past history with as Voldemort would have likely come to blows with muggles during his previous rise to fame. So they would have been able to spot him. Plus, there's always that 'anonymous tip' there. I'm no expert on British military terminology (despite being from the UK), so I'd like to apologise if I got anything wrong.

I didn't mention any Theo Davis before in the Chapters with Tatiana by name but I reasoned if Tatiana was his half-sister (even though she was an orphan, Theo might not be - why Tatiana isn't more connected with her half-brother's family though, I'll leave that up to you to work out), then they might not speak that much to get away with Tatiana not mentioning him, but then the after-effects of the memory loss and the dreams that she was having would have caused her to turn to her family members. The way she's been able to remember partial elements of the magic in he dreams is something that can be explained by the charm not being properly done, or Harry wanting to allow Tatiana to retain some elements of her memory when he performed the spell so that in case a situation like this happened where muggles and magic met, she would be there to influence things further.

I'll explain more about the inclusion of Uptown Funk later in the chapters, as I have a plot-relevant excuse for its inclusion. I wish I could claim that it was an original idea for using it as a soundtrack for a fight scene but AMC's brilliant Preacher TV series beat me to it. It actually works so well as a fight song even if I was never a big fan of the song itself.

Film Recommendation of the Chapter: Seeing as it's got some soldiers in this chapter, let's recommend The Thin Red Line, one of my favourite war movies from Terrence Malick, one of my favourite directors. It's long but it's worth every second.

Fanfic Recommendation of the Chapter: Vile Violent Vacations' Damned Demented Demons. It's not on but it's still a very good read, and gets the characters' personalities of both those from the Harry Potter and Supernatural universes spot on. Well worth a read if you like Supernatural.