Reviews:

EVA-Saiyajin: I'm glad the start of this part of the story went on a good start, hopefully, the interactions will continue to be believable.

Greer123: It's like you read my mind with the pensieve idea, I hope that it lives up.

PrometheusDark: Snape gets a bit of a smack this time around, but things are still pretty rocky from his grudge against James.

Greyjedi449t: So glad that you enjoyed, here's the next chapter.

Pyromania101: I'll keep trying to avoid bashing, as for the Dursley's, I never really planned for them to come back in. They're more a part of the past by now, but any other questions, I'll try to answer without spoilers.

Guest: Thank you, glad you enjoyed.

MorphCross: I'm very happy you think that highly of this story. I'll keep trying to do both sides justice with the coming chapters.

kaxipoptos: Writing that chapter took awhile, but it was a fun process. There's still a lot of material to cover for everyone else and how they will react, and I hope I can continue to capture that feel to it. More will be shed on Charlotte and Zodd as they'll be two major POV characters for the Falconia side of things.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast: Casca is interested in the sword for sure, as for the basilisk, since Harry was gone, Dumbledore had to deal with it himself, but Gryffindor's sword has the venom to it, and there's always room for Dragonslayer to get more powerful too.

Toast Guts: Thank you very much. I'll do my best!

Guest: Thank you, I hope it lives up to the others.

Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.

"Midland?" Dumbledore repeated, the name was clearly foreign to him.

"Yeah, Midland." It did not surprise Harry that Dumbledore did not know the name. Midland resided on a different astral plane than this world. He watched as Dumbledore's brows furrowed in deep concentration.

"I'm Sorry, but I am unfamiliar with that name." the local mages looked at Dumbledore like he had said something startling. Clearly, Dumbledore not knowing something was a big deal to them.

"Unfamiliar?" Serpico parroted. "The war with Chuder? Emperor Gaiseric? Princess Charlotte? Even if this is an isolated place, the country should be known."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not know of what you speak."

Isidro scratched at his head. "I didn't hit you that hard with the rock, did I, old man?"

"Dro's arms may be scrawny, but he can throw," Puck furthered, complementing Isidro on his skill in throwing rocks.

"I do not believe any of us are familiar with such a place," Dumbledore stated. "Unless it is code for something, you have us confused."

Guts eyed the headmaster questionably. "You seriously don't know?"

"I do not."

'What's the big deal?' Isidro mentally conveyed. 'Don't old people have a record of losing their memory? How can he not know?'

I have a pretty good idea as to how Harry answered. He might as well just say it now.

"This is a different astral layer."

He was faintly aware of Guts' eye gazing at him; Schierke looked at him quizzically, as if to see if he would elaborate. "Teacher?" Farnese quietly asked, sounding concerned. Serpico had opened his eyes slightly as well, looking worried in a way.

"Like magic?" Isidro asked, as expected, relatively ignorant to what it all actually meant. He wasn't completely alone in that regard; Roderick looked equally as confused, still new and ignorant to what magic could actually do and how much there was to it beyond what he had already witnessed.

"Astral layer, Mr. Potter?" the witch, Minerva eyed him. "What is that you speak of?"

"What?" Harry asked. "The astral layers, different planes of existence. Understanding them is one of the aspects of learning magic. Do you have another word for it?"

"And what kind of a question is that?" Harry was really starting to hate this Snape person. "Layers of existence as a key to learning magic? People are born with or without it, nobody can learn it from scratch."

"You're joking, right?" Harry asked he was sure this was the man's way of trying to infuriate them.

"Snape and joke don't go together," Black stated. "The only time they fit is when you say 'Snape doesn't joke.'" He received a snarl from the greasy-haired man. "But, on this occasion, I have to agree with him. Magic… people just have it, and I certainly never heard of these astral layers."

"T-that can't be right," Schierke voiced. "If you don't know of the astral layers, then it should be impossible to perform magic. Mistress Flora and I suspected Harry could perform it through hereditary means, but he got to where he is now from studying how to do it all. I was much the same."

The other witch, Amelia, adjusted her monocle. "Are you saying that you are a muggle, then?"

"Muggle? Sorry, I don't know what that is."

"You insulting her, or something?" Guts asked his attention now on the older witch.

Lupin interjected. "Muggle is a word for someone who is non-magical, it wasn't meant as an insult, I assure you." He was looking at Guts' hand which had moved upward, if only slightly, toward the hilt of his sword.

"Oh," Schierke looked like she was unsure if that was truly what it meant. "I wasn't born with magic like Harry, but I did learn it, so I guess that I'm not a… muggle."

"My teachers speak the truth," Farnese backed them. "I am studying the art myself and they have already explained to me the concept of astral layers."

"Tch!"

"Something funny?" Guts looked at Snape again, his lone eye narrowed.

"I find it amusing that instead of answering a simple question, Potter has seen fit to construct an elaborate lie in which he has dragged several muggles into the mix, claiming to have been in a different world and playing into one of the Ministry's greatest fears of muggles learning magic."

"You're calling me a liar?" Harry asked. He was sure that of all the journeys they had been on, nothing had gotten under his skin like Snape was doing.

"When a story is riddled with holes like yours is, it is quite easy," Snape drawled out like oil. "If you were in a different world like you so claim, how do you explain how that ship sailed into the Black Lake? Saw fit to make an entrance, did you?" he wore a triumphant sneer.

"Actually, Snape, that was Moony and I's doing," Black cut in before Harry could explain just how much of an idiot Snape was acting like.

"You?" Harry asked, once again. "What did you do?"

"Yes, Sirius, what did you do?" Amelia asked, curious as well.

"Should I explain it?" Lupin asked his friend. "I might do a much better job at conveying what needs to be said."

Sirius gave a mock-like hand wave. "The stage is yours." He stroked some of his facial hair, ready to listen.

"Well, I've known Sirius a long time and while he may be a fun-loving prankster, he does care for those important to him. Once he was out of Azkaban, Sirius asked Dumbledore where his godson was. He was told that everything was being done to find Harry, but no results were conclusive, only theories. As expected, Sirius took matters into his own hands; he went through the Black Library and found a book about a summoning ritual. The both of us visited the home of Harry's aunt and uncle for some belongings, speaking of which-," Lupin dug into his pocket and pulled out the two figurines that had once belonged to Dudley, handing them to Harry. "For what it's worth."

It felt like his head was filling with water, his arm felt like lead as he took the two cheep pieces of plastic. The white knight's paint had faded, revealing a layer of black underneath, and the black knight was still broken, looking even more run-down than before. He didn't say "thank you," or anything else, just nodding for Lupin to continue.

"We waited until a day when magical energy would be at its highest before performing the ritual. And the rest… well, you can guess for yourselves."

'So, is that the blast that came over us?' Farnese asked.

'I don't think so,' Schierke answered. 'It felt more powerful than a simple ritual, but… maybe it presented the ritual the energy that was needed. If this place really is in another astral layer… that blast might have…'

Amelia was speaking again. "You do realize that the Ministry has banned the use of magical rituals, correct?"

Black rubbed at his facial hair. "Moony might have mentioned it. You're free to take it up with Fudge, but with everything that's going on, I think he'll have his plate full without a trial for the head of House Black."

"Why am I not surprised," Snape made no attempt to suppress an eye-roll. "Black and Lupin always thought themselves above the law. But even so, them performing a ritual does not confirm Potter's cock-and-bull story about being in another world. That ship could have been summoned from anywhere on the globe."

"A-hem," Dumbledore lightly coughed, opening a drawer on his desk and pulling out an old tome. "While Sirius and Remus' action was hasty, and Mr. Potter's story seems outlandish, every story has a hint of truth to it." He flipped through a few pages, stopping on one he had bookmarked. "Sirius, you might recall when you first inquired about Harry's whereabouts I showed you this text. I had to call in a few favors with the unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries to get it, but it was written in part by Merlin who documented his journey through the layers of magic." He had the skeptics attention now, and much to Harry's pleasure, Snape did not have anything to say to rebuke that.

"However," Dumbledore continued, "it is important to mention that this was written in Merlin's later years when his mental health began to deteriorate so there is no telling how much truth there is to any of that. But, if you don't mind my asking, if you truly were in a different world, how is it you got there, to begin with?"

Harry expected major skepticism for this next one. "It happened on Halloween, there was a Skull Knight who-,"

"-Headmaster, are you hearing this?" Snape cut him off. "His tale is growing taller with every question you ask."

"A Skull Knight?" Dumbledore repeated. "Funny that Mr. Potter should mention something along that line of phrasing. Merlin wrote that once he crossed the layers of magic he was greeted by a knight of skeleton."

Snape looked ready to retort, but a sharp chuckle from Guts beat him to it. "So he knew the bonehead, too? Glad that got cleared up before you could question that bit of information." It looked like Guts gave Snape a friendly pat on the shoulder, but there was no camaraderie to be found, and a pat from someone of Guts' strength was enough to make Snape's knees buckle from under him. Snape had to grab onto the edge of the alcove to stop from falling. His dark eyes glared at Guts with loathing. Black hid a laugh from the sight of it.

"Are you alright, Severus?" the other professor asked, giving Guts the stink-eye as well.

"…Peachy," Snape said through grit teeth.

"What else does that say about the bonehead?" Guts continued, not even concerned by the look he was getting from the one professor.

Dumbledore's blue eyes seemed to twinkle as he eyed Guts. "Are you saying you are familiar with this individual?"

"He comes and goes as he likes. You'll never get a straight answer out of him." Yeah, that pretty much summarized every encounter with the ancient one.

Dumbledore's eyes did not lose their twinkle. "You do realize that this text was written several hundred years ago? If you do know of this figure, how do you explain that?"

Guts gave a lazy shrug. "He was pretty good friends with a witch, I figure she had something to do with how he's still up and riding around."

"Dark magic, then?" Dumbledore assumed, much to Schierke's displeasure.

"No," she replied almost instantly and with much conviction. "Mistress Flora used to say that magic was only dark based on intent. Levitating someone high enough and dropping them could kill just as easily as setting someone on fire. The same could be said for trying to save the life of a friend." Her face got more red with every word.

'Teacher…' Farnese mentally reached out. 'Are you alright?'

'Aggravated. I don't care if this is a different world, I won't have them suggesting that Mistress Flora was some kind of dark sorceress.'

Minerva eyed the younger girl cautiously. "That was quite the analogy you made, young lady. But do understand that some practices are labeled as dark for a reason. You would agree, Madam Bones?"

The other witch nodded. "I would. There's no telling who might abuse the practice. Like a summoning ritual for example." Black twiddled his thumbs, finding one of the instruments to be of great detail. She continued, "However, if Mr. Potter speaks the truth, then there would be no Ministry like ours to regulate such a practice."

"So it would all come down to the word of Mr. Potter," Dumbledore's eyes landed on him once again.

Lupin cleared his throat. "Professor Dumbledore, you have a pensieve, if anything could help get the facts straight, that would be it."

Puck tilted his head. "The thing that smells like mushrooms?"

"A magical item used for viewing memories," Dumbledore explained. "If Mr. Potter was agreeable to it, we could get to the bottom of this by viewing select memories that he-,"

"-You're going to take his memory?" Isidro asked, appalled. "I knew you were up to something, old man!"

"A pensieve does not take a person's memory," Lupin told him. "It does the opposite, it's designed in a way to help someone remember."

Isidro's face fell. "Oh."

Guts' attention was on Casca, who was poking at an instrument like a cat would do to a ball of yarn.

"I believe Mr. Potter still has my wand from earlier."

Harry pulled the wand out just enough to show that he had it. "What about it?"

"I don't mean to question your honor or integrity, but please understand how your story must sound; there is cause for speculation. If you could prove your claim…"

"By letting you see my memories," Harry concluded. "You realize how personal that is, don't you?" he could remember quite a lot of unpleasant things from along the journey. A certain black sun stood out above the rest.

"Unless you would rather give consent to have your mind read, then-,"

"-That seems like a pretty big jump from him lending you his memories than you just seeing what you want," Guts said in a near icy tone.

Roderick, who had been silent for much of this, finally offered his input. "Look, I don't claim to have known young Harry here for a long time, but I can tell an honest man from an untrustworthy one. This whole concept of magic and other worlds honestly makes my head hurt, but if he says that's what it is, how is a devilishly handsome captain like myself in a position to disagree?" Serpico's raised a quick brow, and Farnese looked at him in a strange way. Roderick noticed and gave a small wink.

"I am sure we would all like to agree with Mr. Potter," Madam Bones followed up that statement. "But without any actual proof, there is little we can do to believe what has been told to us."

Harry briefly met gazes with the elderly headmaster sitting across from him. Those blue eyes of his seemed to twinkle alright, but beyond that, they held a certain desperation, this man wanted whatever he could go on, maybe either for a personal agenda or maybe just for altruism and the belief that people were worth believing. Of course, Harry did not trust the older wizard as far as he could throw him; his actions before on the beach demonstrated a lack of self-control on his end. The pensieve sitting on his desk cast an eerie bluish glow, cold, yet inviting at the same time. These other wizards were looking to see into some of his previous experiences, and most of them weren't pleasant ones. His time spent with the Hawks' remained as a golden age for what he could remember about them, and his time studying magic with Flora and Schierke had been pleasant after the storm of despair that had been the Eclipse. Unless the Skull Knight rode into this office on his skeletal steed, then it would be a great satisfaction to prove that Snape idiot wrong. The encounters with Zodd, the rescue at the Tower of Conviction, slaying the trolls, Guts going Berserker, it would more than likely overwhelm them. It would show them that they wouldn't be able to strong-arm them or him into doing what they wanted now that he was back in this world. And maybe… persuade them into making a deal. Flora had been able to partially undo some of the damage done to Casca, and now…

"If I was going to agree to this," Harry slowly began, "how much would be enough?"

"That is entirely up to you," Dumbledore answered, his eyes seemed to have a glimmer of hope.

"Are you truly considering this?" Serpico asked, his own eyes partially opened.

Ivalera flew over to whisper in his ears. "Just between you and me, you got nothing to prove to these fools. I might talk big myself, but I always know that I'm right in the end."

Schierke looks at him almost pleadingly. "You don't have to, you know?"

"I do. But it might just help us out." He pulled the confiscated wand out. "What exactly do I need to do?"

"First, think of the memory," Dumbledore instructed. "Once you have it, put the tip of the wand to your temple and pull away. Then, just tap it into the pensieve."

Thinking way back, Harry pictured the scene clearly in his mind before doing as instructed. A glowing, silvery strand followed the wands movements as he tapped it into the pensieve. He repeated the process several more times, letting the strands fall and mesh together in the magical liquid.

"Thank you for your compliance, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore gave a small nod of his head, his half-moon glasses sliding down a way on his crooked nose. "Minerva, to save the time, would you kindly enlarge the pensieve?"

With a silent wave of her own wand, the professor enlarged the pensieve so that it occupied the entirety of the desk. The headmaster and the other locally assembled witches and wizards gathered around it like a campfire, their eyes fixated on the swirling pool of clear liquid as it began to change in color.

Dumbledore looked around at the setting before him and the others who had gathered around the pensieve, wishing to learn the full story of what had happened. Sirius and Remus were here, no surprise there. Minerva, Poppy and Amelia, too, again, no surprise. Severus was present as well, probably looking to see for himself just how much of a liar he believed Harry to be. Dumbledore would need to have a serious talk with his head of Slytherin House over his behavior. He had not helped at all in giving Harry a positive view of Hogwarts.

Harry and his companions were not present, probably having already known the story, to begin with.

They were on a grassy hill, a much younger version of Harry was nearby, looking up at an imposing figure on horseback.

"Merlin's beard…" Remus remarked as seeing the individual who sat astride the steed. It was the figure of a man clad in armor that resembled a skeleton. A black cape hung from his shoulders and a few spikes on the top of the skull helm gave him the impression of wearing a crown. A pair of glowing eyes looked down on a young Harry. It was as Merlin had described, a knight of skeleton.

"We will meet again, Wizard." The Skull Knight bit farewell to Harry, leaving him alone on the hill overlooking a camp below.

If Dumbledore was not focused on learning more about Harry's journey, he would have tried to find out more about this Skull Knight who seemed to have been the cause of Harry's sudden disappearance all those years ago. But his parting words of meeting again promised that he would perhaps see more of this figure later on.

The scene shifted to down in the camp below.

"He's sneaking around," Sirius observed as Harry tried his best to avoid detection as he darted between camp tents, looking for something.

"What is he doing?" Minerva asked as Harry snuck into a tent with food provisions, taking what he deemed necessary.

"I suppose those relatives of his only had enough for one mouth to feed," Sirius bitterly joked as Harry made his way to sneak back out and then-

"So, just what the hell are you doing here?" it was the muscular man – Guts. And he looked so different. His spiky hair was the same length, but there was no white streak. Fewer scars adorned his face, save for the one running across his nose. He had both of his eyes and arms. Dumbledore had assumed the man to be at least forty years of age, but looking at him now, he looked like a late teen, putting the man's real age around twenty-three or twenty-four.

The scene shifted again, and they found themselves following behind Guts as he led Harry into a tent that was much larger than the rest. Two others were there, one Dumbledore recognized as the one woman who acted like a child. Her hair was much shorter here, reaching just past her ears. Instead of those sack-like clothing, she was dressed like a faux-knight, and her eyes held no trace of child-like innocence as she looked at Guts and Harry enter.

The second man – if it was a man – looked to beautiful to be real. Long white hair, icy, sky-blue eyes and pale complexion, Dumbledore almost mistook him for a vampire, a very beautiful vampire.

The beautiful man spoke, looking at Harry. "It looks like we have the making of a master thief before our eyes. Right, Casca?"

"Griffith," a name to put to the man, "he could be-,"

"I think if he were a Chuder spy, he would have looked for stealing information or lives instead of food." He seemed totally indifferent that Harry had been caught stealing from him. No, not indifferent, amused even. It was something old Salazar Slytherin could admire.

They listened as Griffith laid out three options for Harry to choose from, ending with him choosing to accompany them back to a city called Windham, a name completely foreign to Dumbledore who traveled all of Europe. These people dress as knights and yet they mention a city of unknown name. if the sight of the Skull Knight wasn't proof enough, the evidence was piling up by the second.

Another scene change found Harry alone in a tent with the woman – Casca. She tossed him a new set of clothes that fit him much better than the ones he had on that must have belonged to a boy three times his size. She made such an observation known. "He seems… well rounded."

Sirius and the memory of Harry both gave a stifled laugh. Where was this personality to the girl?

The night turned to day and the memory version of Harry sat in the back of a wagon with a blonde boy of around his age. They talked for a bit until three horn blasts came ringing out. They were set upon by what looked to be bandits, but between the force of someone like Guts, the swiftness of the Casca woman, and the command of Griffith, the bandits were quickly picked off. But one remained. He was going to take a shot at Griffith, but a bolt got him first. A bolt that had been fired by Harry.

"Oh, Dear Merlin!" Poppy cried as she watched the man fall, dead from what Harry had done.

"H-he killed him," Remus looked as pale as a full moon. Minerva looked much the same, she could not comprehend how the son of two of her favorite students could end a life.

"The boy is deranged…" Severus tried to hide it, but even he looked uneasy.

"Harry…" Sirius said sadly.

The memory held for a moment before a blonde youth came riding up to offer Harry some comfort and advice. "Hm. How can I put it? There are good people and bad people in the world, right? And sometimes good people do bad things, and vice versa, right? Well, a good person can do a bad thing and still be a good person, do you know why? Because as long as they acknowledge what they've done is wrong, and it wasn't easy for them to do, they still might be a good person."

Was that the logic Harry governed his life by? It was spoken masterfully like the youth believed it himself as a way of comfort, but Dumbledore wished he could have given Harry another outlook. To do good was to do good. If everyone went by that logic, someone could kill and fell sorry for it, but another person would still be dead. Is this what Harry truly believed?

The next few scenes passed by rather quickly, or perhaps they felt quicker due to the fact they just witnessed the Boy-Who-Lived take a man's life. There was a city, Windham, which certainly wasn't anywhere to be found in Europe. Many of the scenes included Guts or Casca, or the two of them together, usually arguing. Strangely enough, it reminded Dumbledore of James and Lily, but with far less teasing on the male end, and more hostility from the woman.

More flashes, more battles, more death, and finally…

This one was rather fuzzy as if Harry was barely conscious, but the beast looming over him looked solid enough. "What in the blazing hell is that?!" Sirius exclaimed at the sight of the monster. It had the legs of a goat, the body of a muscular giant covered in black fur, a lion-like face, two demonic horns, and a tail. A true demon.

Guts and Griffith lay injured next to Harry as the demon advanced on him. "A valiant try, but unsuccessful." He made ready to stomp Harry's head in when something caught the monster's eye. "Hm? What a unique scar. It is different than the one I know, but I recognize a brand when I see it. His life belongs to another." The monster got ready to slay Griffith when his paw strayed again. "It cannot be. The Egg of the King, the crimson behelit! So, it's that kind of ploy. We'll have to put our battle on hold. But I'll leave a word of warning – no. A prophecy. If you call that man a friend, take heed. For when his ambition collapses, death will pay you a visit! A death you will never escape!"

"An actual demon…" Remus ran a hand through his graying hair. He looked much older now than before. He knew Harry was alright, he was back in the office, but still, even Moody would have been hesitant about facing a creature like that.

Some time must have passed from the encounter with the monster to this next one, Harry was walking with a crutch and he was with Casca in a garden outside of what looked like a castle. "Father, may I please join Elize and Cousin Adonis in the gardens?"

A teenage girl came into view with her dark brown hair done in buns on the side of her head reminding Dumbledore about a certain muggle character from those Star Wars movies. Casca motioned for them to rise and bow their heads as the girl passed.

"Who's that?" Poppy and the younger Harry both asked.

"The princess," Casca had replied.

That couldn't be right. The royal family of England knew about the society of wizards that lived on the island, Dumbledore had met with them on occasion as his duties as Chief Mugwump, and this girl was not a member of any English royalty.

The memory Harry and Casca watched in amusement as the young boy named Adonis scared his cousin Charlotte with a garden snake on a stick. Feeling ashamed, the boy let the harmless serpent go free. It slithered over to where the subject of the memory sat, and he caught the reptile like a seeker in the making before it could slither away. The two memories shared some back and forth about how it wasn't scary, looking innocent enough. That was until they heard the sharp hisses that came out of Harry's mouth.

"The boy is a Parselmouth?" Severus asked in surprise. He was clearly horrified by the idea that Harry possessed an ability that only Salazar Slytherin and Voldemort had. That, and he was equally terrified by the idea that if Harry had attended Hogwarts on time, he might have been sorted into Slytherin House.

The memory Casca had a typical muggle reaction, eyes wide like a doe and standing up in shock. It ended with a young Harry looking like he was trying to figure out what he had done wrong.

After it was confirmed that Harry had a magical talent, it shifted to a calmer and composed Casca offering an apology and some words of comfort for her previous reaction in a sisterly fashion.

"Muggles in a medieval setting who aren't going to burn a wizard at the stake?" Sirius rhetorically said. "That might be the strangest thing so far." The joke was lacking. He had made it lighten the mood after seeing his godson kill a man and encounter a monster. It didn't work.

More scenes passed by, Guts taking him to an aged blacksmith to forge a sword, more battles, overhearing Griffith's standard for a friend, Griffith telling Harry that the unseen dream of Harry's was much closer than he believed. There was a grand ball, Guts leaving after a duel with Griffith, Harry following after. The Skull Knight appeared to them once more, and much like the demon warned them of a coming danger.

Betrayal. They were set upon by knights of the land, Griffith was nowhere to be seen – kidnapped and tortured, presumably. Time passed and a rescue mission was put into practice. With the aid of the princess, they traveled below a tower, down to the deepest level. A growing sense of dread filled them at the lone occupant of the cell.

Poppy was in an instant flutter. "Good heavens!"

Griffith's body was a shell of his former self, hardly any muscle or meat remained; he was missing fingernails and large patches of skin. His back looked to have been flayed and he appeared castrated as well. Having experienced the pains of the cruciatus curse, Dumbledore didn't even want to imagine how this Griffith might be feeling.

There was an escape, Guts clearing the way as a plethora of guards made their way down the tower. The man's battle tendency was beyond extreme, slaughtering the men left and right.

Merlin… Had Harry been traveling with a man as ferocious as this? Maybe that's why it came as no surprise when the memory of Harry put a sword to the princess' neck, using her as a hostage.

They were in a field now. Griffith was placed in the back of a wagon as the other memories hustled about, ready to make a quick getaway if necessary. The princess, strangely, did not seem to hold any animosity to Harry for taking her hostage, she was fixated on just one person.

"Please, we're safe for the time being, all I request is a moment alone with Lord Griffith." The princess pleaded, trying to poke her head into the wagon where the man was. She was clearly head over heels for the once proud-looking man, and Dumbledore suspected if Griffith's current state had something to do with this girl.

Memory Harry shook his head. "Griffith's… been through a lot. He just needs time to rest right now."

"Then allow me to assist," she insisted. "Anything that I can do to help, I will try my best to do. If I truly am joining you all in your travels, I will need to make myself useful. Please."

"You still can," Harry tried to reason. "Just, for right now the most you can do is give him a little space. But… when he's feeling up to it, you can be the first to come and visit him."

That seemed to brighten up the princess as she flung her arms around his neck for a hugging embrace. "Thank you. You mean it?"

The memory Harry looked a bit unsure. "Uh… yeah, sure."

Sirius shook his head. "He's mature for his age, but he knows nothing about how to woo a lady."

Dumbledore could agree about the first part. Harry was mature for someone his age, maybe even on par with older students or graduates. It most likely came from the setting he had been in for a few years, one that was much harsher and that deprived children of childhood.

The wagon that Griffith was in began to move, the driver being Griffith who had somehow managed to handle the reigns. Guts was the first to grab a horse and take off after him, Casca ordering Harry to stay and watch the princess and the handmaiden.

"What will happen to Lord Griffith?" the princess looked pale and on the verge of collapse.

"He'll be fine," Harry tried to assure her. "Guts and the rest will bring him back, he just… he just felt overwhelmed is all." He said that just as a large, dark shape began moving to block out the sun. It was the start of an eclipse.

It changed again. Harry was in a cave of some kind, his leg heavily bandaged and propped up. Guts came into view, and Poppy gasped again. His entire torso was wrapped in gauze, his left arm missing at the elbow, and right eye shut tight as a trail of blood leaked from his closed lid.

"Auuu! Oooo!" Casca played with a young girl in the cave pool, her demeanor of a fierce knight was gone, replaced with the child-like one that had been eyeing around Dumbledore's office.

"Well what has happened?" Amelia asked, confusion written all over her face. "Where is that Griffith man, where are all the others? What did that to them? And what are those marks?" Harry and Guts had one on their necks and Casca had it on her collar, just above her breast. They looked to have been branded like cattle. The way she was acting compared to how she was before, it reminded Dumbledore of what had happened to his sister all those years ago.

So many questions were being raised, and the memories kept flying past them. Guts being gifted that giant sword from the blacksmith as well as his prosthetic arm, Harry and him going their separate ways, leaving Casca in the cave of the smith. Harry encountered a man who turned into a giant ape-like creature, and fighting and slaying it.

"…Creatures that turn into men," Lupin said in awe as he watched Harry kill the beast.

"What was that, Remus?" Minerva asked, equally as stunned.

"A student mentioned something in my one class about creatures that turn into people, I thought she meant animagi, but… could she have meant this?"

More flashes, more memories, finding Schierke and the woman who would teach him magic. Him making his own staff, eventually setting off, reuniting with Guts, saving a girl and fighting another one of those monsters. Harry let this one go not because he believed the thing could do better, but because he wanted her to suffer knowing her life was nothing but meaningless. It was cruel, nothing at all like how the Boy-Who-Lived should act, more like a reimagining in one of the many stories written about him after he defeated Voldemort.

Then there was the scramble to get to another tower, how he met the boy of their group, an assassin man who briefly joined them, defeating men with angel wings, making a peace with a religious fanatic like the blonde girl who claimed to now be studying magic, and then…

"Is that… Griffith?" Remus asked as the memory of the destroyed tower showed a pure flawless being climbing onto the back of the same demon as before, this time with just one horn.

They were back at the blacksmith's now. Harry and Guts were doing battle with a man that could rival Hagrid in height and muscle, both was trying to get to a now fully clothed Griffith who stood behind the mighty warrior. After more fighting, the warrior shifted into the now familiar demon.

Then it was troll slaying, clearing out a village of small hairy beasts that looked nothing like how they knew trolls to be. In the troll cave, Harry and Guts fought what looked to be a lady made out of intestines. She would have been very beautiful if she didn't seem to give off an aura of darkness. She marked both of them with scars on their chests, making Poppy cringe. They were saved by the Skull Knight once again.

Another change, the tree of Flora was on fire, a battle was taking place outside. Guts wore a new suit of armor as he fought a giant of a man. He moved like a true demon in that wolf-like armor, he was beyond a master swordsman, he was near unbeatable.

More fighting, more traveling, Guts and that horned demon worked together to bring down a man made out of steam, and Harry dueled a wizard much more experienced wizard. They boarded the boat, and then… everything went white.

Dumbledore had to blink a few times as he came out of the trance that came with looking into the pensieve. His colleagues were looking equally as stunned and horrified as he felt on the inside, but pushed down with years of experience in a political sense. He looked across the desk at the arrivals who had no doubt been talking while they had been viewing the memories.

The stare from Guts remained as cold and threatening as it had been before, maybe even more so now. Casca, the woman who was confirmed to be a once proud warrior still continued to entertain herself with some of the instruments around the office. And Harry, it was like Dumbledore was seeing him for the first time. The shy awkward boy from the start of the memories was now a young man who had been forced to mature long before his time when he could have been spent making friends at Hogwarts, playing Quidditch, and studying like most boys his age. He wasn't a boy who would just obey what a teacher told him, he would question it, try his own way.

"Well…" Dumbledore cleared his throat, "… you have certainly seen fit to prove your case, Mr. Potter." He waited to see if he would say anything on that. "It would seem that you are owed an apology."

"There was a gap," Severus voiced in place of an apology. "One moment you were rushing headfirst to try and rescue that Griffith man, the next you're in a cave with heavy wounds."

"I showed you what was necessary," Harry said with a hint of ice directed at the potions master. "You wanted me to prove my case, I proved it."

No doubt reminded of James, Severus retorted. "If you are hiding something, then it stands to reason that those memories might have been fabricated."

"Oh, bugger off, Snivelles!" Sirius jumped in.

Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did you say?"

"I'm saying to stop acting like an unimaginable ass," Sirius specified. "Harry didn't have to show us anything at all. So if you want my opinion, just shut the hell up."

"Gentlemen!" Amelia gained their attention. "If the two of you would kindly act your age, I do believe Mr. Potter is owed credit where credit is due."

"For refusing to comply and give the information?" Severus sarcastically drawled.

"For performing feats that far extend what could have been asked of him," Amelia sent Severus a narrowed glare.

"You would praise the boy for risking his life?" Severus shot back.

"No, but I would advise you keep your mouth shut on matters you are ignorant to, Professor Snape," Amelia advised. "After witnessing all of that, do you really wish to get on the bad side of any of these arrivals?"

The boy, Isidro whispered to the elf, Puck. "She means us too, right?"

Puck whispered back. "Especially us."

Poppy was making a fuss. "I should have brought more supplies from the hospital wing! Sir," she looked at Guts, "I'll be back with some supplies, I'll apply them to your wounds to-,"

"-Calm down, lady," Guts interrupted. "I don't want you coming at me with any of your stuff, that's what the bug is useful for. Save it for when a kid gets a splinter."

"You're wounds are beyond a splinter!" Poppy was instant.

"No is still no," Guts' tone lowered. "Isn't listening suppose to be a trait of medics?"

She was about to go on a rant about the importance of why he should not refuse treatment, but Dumbledore had to intervene. "You have endured much, all of you, and for that, you have my sincerest of apologies for questioning the truth." The blonde youth, Serpico, gave the closest thing to a polite nod of the head, probably just out of a means to be well-mannered. "But addressing the topic of a gap in memory, I assume it was left out for good reason?"

"You don't need to see that part." Harry seemed… afraid to dive back into that part of his memory. The boy was no coward, his actions proved that, but everyone had an unpleasant memory of something or other. And whatever it was, it was the cause of their injury, Guts' loss of limb, and Casca's current state, one that reminded him so much of his sister.

"Your privacy is your own, Mr. Potter, you have provided more than enough information to support your claim." There was more to magic than meets the eye after all, however outlandish it might be. "From what I gathered, you seek to restore this woman to her former self."

"Huu?" Casca briefly regarded them before returning to looking at the instrument she had been eying.

"For the longest time, yeah," Harry confirmed as much.

While the young woman reminded him a great deal of Arianne, she also had some similarities with Alice and Frank Longbottom. Two good people who had their sanity and minds destroyed through heavy trauma. "Hogwarts has always been open to those who are in need of assistance, but I am unsure how to help in this situation." Even at St. Mungos, both Longbottoms remained unchanged, even unable to recognize their own son. Guts looked ready to say something. "However, as Headmaster of Hogwarts, and as a means of apologizing for my previous actions, I offer sanctuary for the present time."

"Well," the captain, Roderick began, "that is certainly generous of you, headmaster. But, do forgive me, but coming from a well-to-do family, I was always taught to look a gift ship in her cannons before setting sail."

"I ask now that Voldemort has returned, to share a rather valuable piece of information with young Mr. Potter."

"Oh?" Harry raised a brow. "And what is that?"

"The reason as to why Voldemort came to your parents' cottage that night to end your life. There was a time I would have prolonged revealing this piece of information by telling myself that you could not handle it, that you should preserve your innocence, but… recent events must be taken into account. I would only ask that I only reveal this information to Mr. Potter in private."

Harry was quick to deny him that. "Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of all of them." He referred more to those he arrived with than the residents of this world.

If he had been a student, Minerva would have scolded him, but instead, she looked to Dumbledore expectantly, unaware of why two of her students had really died that night in Godric's Hollow. "It is quite a sensitive topic and pertains heavily to you alone." The reality of another world of medieval society didn't seem as difficult as the truth.

"And whatever you tell me I would just tell them anyway, so why not just say it now?" Harry was dead set against being with Dumbledore alone.

"And as friends to both Lily and James, I think we have a right to know as well," Sirius unsurprisingly sided with his godson.

"Sirius, the truth-,"

"-Is something you've kept hidden long enough. I admitted to being the one responsible for Harry being back, and he revealed his journey to us. What have you revealed?"

"It was never my intent to come across as being untrustworthy," Dumbledore defended.

"Yeah, really great way of showing it," Guts snarked. "Everything you've said could have been told by any of your people. Now, are you going to tell him why this guy is after him or not?"

Dumbledore was silent for what felt like an eternity. "…Voldemort has always been a superstitious person, even by wizarding standards. He believed he was always destined for more and more power, killing anyone who stood in his way of gaining more. Shortly before you were born, a prophecy was made. It said-,"

"-Stop," Harry raised his hand for him to pause.

"It is a lot to take in, I know, but it is the truth. The prophecy pertained to-,"

"-Stop," Harry said once again. "Don't talk about prophecy. After all, I showed you, of ordinary people defying odds, you think I would believe some prophecy? Zodd gave a prophecy about never being able to escape death, and we're still living."

This wasn't going like he expected. "Harry-,"

"-Unless you can give a reason as to why that doesn't involve prophecy, there's nothing more to say about that."

"…" Dumbledore had nothing.

"Well we were talking while you were looking in that pensieve," Harry went on, uncaring about the prophecy, "for however long we're here we'll keep to Roderick's ship, the only thing we really want to ask at the moment is any information about magical remedies." He referred to Casca.

Sirius was quick to respond. "I'd be more than happy to lend you some books from the Black Library; I never used it for much anyway."

The blonde girl, Farnese said, "Thank you, Mr. Black. That would be a most gracious help."

"That about all you wanted to ask?" Guts asked Harry.

"For now, yeah."

"Mm. Then that's about it, wouldn't you say?" he was looking at Dumbledore. "Unless you're prepared to go on about your bullshit prophecy."

Definitely not like how he expected. "No, I have said my share of the matter, I can only hope that in time Mr. Potter would care to listen."

"Right," Roderick nearly dragged the word as he rose from his seat. "As long as we've established some kind of setting, I'd like to return to my ship. One of you wouldn't mind leading the way, that'd be a great help, you know, your staircase and all."

"I'll go," Sirius offered. "It is my fault after all." No one disagreed with him as he led them out, back to where their ship was anchored.

"Just as arrogant as his father!" Severus began as soon as they were gone. "His abilities, while impressive for someone his age, fall short of Hogwarts standard."

"Is that how you see him, Severus?" Minerva asked, her accent flaring up. "To me, Potter looked more powerful than any seventh-year student with full N.E.W.T marks."

"To have lived in a world such as that…" Remus was still trying to come to terms with all of it. "Demons, evil spirits, no wonder he didn't take a threat like You-Know-Who seriously." Indeed. The most powerful beast Dumbledore had slain had been the basilisk that one year after blowing the entrance open once Myrtle had told them where it was. The Sword of Gryffindor had come in handy that day, but some of these monsters looked twice as dangerous as the snake.

"Speaking of that particular individual, I should be returning to the Ministry," Amelia made her way to the fireplace. "The rest of my team is probably already chewing the Minister's ear off. Best to get there to calm things down, though, they won't be for long."

"You mean to tell about Harry's return?" Dumbledore already knew the answer to that.

"As a Ministry Official, it comes with the job. Just be prepared for the fallout. Once I give my report, there's no telling how much will be labeled as true or dismissed as a hoax."

The deck of the Sea Horse was relatively quiet by the time they arrived back. Farnese's brother, Magnifico had quickly demanded answers as to what was going on and Roderick took it upon himself to try and gently break the news to him. After that, Roderick had ordered that the ship be moved further away from the castle and maintain a safe distance. The knowledge that Harry was practically famous among a group of wizards didn't sit right.

If Roderick wanted to make that call, it was fine with Guts. Those wizards had come across as more than a bit off the wagon, especially the old man and the grease ball. Whenever the latter had opened his mouth, Guts could feel the voice of the Beast of Darkness telling him to just rip his throat out.

He pushed those thoughts away, but he knew that everyone else had been thinking something along those lines at one point or another. Guts hoped his "pat" of the back had been enough indication to let the man know what was to come if he continued to act like a prick. He should probably wash his hand after touching the man.

They set anchor on the other side of the lake, the castle still visible from the many lights from inside, but they looked much less bright. Guts would have chalked it up to it just being they were farther away, but to him the lights seemed… dull, grey, even. His vision was probably feeling the effect of his last usage of the Berserker Armor.

He sat on the rail of the deck, looking out at the castle full of mages. He was nearly the only one on the deck at the moment. One crew member was up in the crow's nest, and two more were at the helm. Nearly everyone else was just trying to make sense of all that had happened in such a short time.

"Guts?" it would seem he wasn't too alone.

"Hey," he greeted the short witch.

"You're not resting?" she sounded concerned.

"It's only midday. Besides, wouldn't really be able to get too much with everything going on over there."

"Hm." She nodded.

Light waves lapped the side of the ship. "Some view, huh?"

"I suppose, but it's far from what I'd think a magic school would look like. It feels… disconnected from deeper layers." She sounded melancholy.

"It'd fit royalty, but not a mage, but what do I know about any of that," Guts somewhat agreed. Flora's place had felt more open than a castle. Maybe he was just saying that because he had stormed his fair share of castles as a mercenary. "So how's Harry processing all of this?"

She tilted her head. "Why are you asking me?"

"I just figured you'd know."

"I haven't really talked to him about it yet. Coming to terms with all of this, finding out he's famous here, I didn't want to add bombard him with questions. Right now he's just sleeping it over."

"And when he wakes up? Planning on giving him hell?"

"Well… I wouldn't say it like that…"

"Hmph."

"What's that mean?" Schierke asked.

"Nothing, just assumed you'd be mad is all."

"Are you mad?"

"Not at him, no. I thought you would be, he never told you he was from this… astral plane or whatever, did he?"

"He didn't tell you, did he?"

"No. But Casca, she always thought the story he gave when we found him was pretty weak. It was one of the things I agreed about with her." They always butted heads at first until Guts became used to her temper and just learned to deal with it.

"Right now… I guess it's just accepting that its fact. From what he said back there and before, I got the sense that he didn't care for this world, at least, not the people in it anyway." She meant his relatives. "But, that Sirius Black seemed kind enough."

"Well, Harry is his godson, right?" Guts said. "I can't speak for the man, but he seems to be trying to get into Harry's good books."

"He did agree to lend us anything to help with Casca's recovery," Schierke mentioned, holding her hat as a breeze passed by.

"Yeah, he did. But then what?"

"Huh?"

"…Nothing much, just wondering about something." Guts knew how they looked at him, like a guy who knew how things would play out and somehow come out on top. But he had no idea half the time, he went on his instinct, never really knowing the outcome unless it involved a fight. If Casca was healed, where do they go from there? Do they try to find a way back to Midland, or do they stay here? All were unknowns.

"Oh," Schierke said, looking like she wanted to say something.

"What is it?" Guts asked.

"Well… it is a bit sudden, but before all of… this craziness happened, Farnese was asking what kind of woman Casca was before. Harry really only said she was a great fighter, really."

"He wasn't wrong," Guts affirmed. "She had a fire to her, kind of like when you hit use that staff like a club. For a girl who weighs less than a sparrow, you can pack a punch."

"T-that was only once," she seemed flustered. "And… he deserved it for making me worry."

"I bet." Guts was silent until he saw Schierke was looking at him like she wanted to know more. "But Casca…" he rarely talked about how she had been before that cursed day, but Schierke had proven herself to be a loyal ally, "… she was really stubborn, not really a prim and proper lady type." A breeze passed by again. "Loyal too, you could depend on her to do something and do it right. Short tempered, she was always snapping about something."

"And someone worth risking everything for?" she didn't ask in a sarcastic or mocking tone, just curious.

"There aren't many people that are, But Casca… without a doubt. It's like when you pull me out of my armor, I guess. You just see the person you want to be brought out; somehow you believe that they're worth it." A breeze passed by again, taking Schierke's hat with it. Before it could land in the lake, Guts caught it. "Heh," he chuckled, putting the hat back on her head. "Now I'm acting like some noble knight. Or maybe…" he looked at those lights again, "maybe I'm just losing my senses."

They stopped only briefly at Malfoy Manor, just long enough to get everything all set up. Down in the cellar, more runes had been drawn on the wall of the room where prisoners would have been kept from the glory days of Death Eaters kidnapping and torture raids. Voldemort had had another dream from those who call themselves the God Hand, things on the other end were all complete, the layers, were more like doors at this point, and when he felt the summon of the fifth angel, he had little choice but to comply. Although he would have happily remained here for a longer time, he had his own business to deal with instead of answering a summons.

The last rune was drawn to make the shape of an archway on the side of the wall, each one glowed purple with energy as Voldemort ran his hand along each as he saw in his dream. Once the last rune had been touched, they glowed an almost blinding blue, a sign that it had been a success.

Now it would function much like the barrier to get on to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, just walk into it, and you would arrive on another side entirely.

For this visit, he would be bringing with him his select few Death Eaters whom he had granted pseudo-apostlehood. Lucius had argued to go as well, but he had shot him down. Someone had to stay and keep up on the news the papers were bound to be putting out soon about his return.

"My Lord," Bellatrix spoke, moving to stand at his right, "this barrier, where is it we are crossing to?"

"To the city of an angel, Bella. And a muggle city at that."

"Muggles?" she repeated with disgust, spitting on the floor of the cell like the word was poison. "What business can muggles offer us?"

Rabastan spoke next, "Are we to raid them, my Lord? We love the way they squeal when they're being tortured."

"Quiet, all of you!" he silenced them when he heard the laughs. "You have your personal freedom allotted to you, but you still obey me, understood?" the cellar was filled with many "Yes, my Lord," followed by the bowing of their heads.

"I can understand your bloodlust, but do try to keep it contained until we return." He didn't have the power necessary to oppose the angels just yet. First, Potter would have to fall, then he would deal with those who lorded their power above his own.

When he passed through the magic-made barrier, it felt like he was being pushed back, but it wasn't nearly strong enough to keep him from pushing forward, the connection still being fairly new and all. And when he came out on the other side, he was faced with open fields in front of him, and one trunk of the biggest tree behind him. Like the rest of the city that it towered over, it was pure white.

"New arrivals?" Charlotte asked Anna as Sir Owen led a group of people in robes into the main chamber of Falconia's high standing palace. She shouldn't be too surprised, people were flocking to Falconia like moths to a flame, it was the only safe place for humanity left.

"Hm? Oh, yes, they were found just outside the walls from what I heard," Anna said, the chamber they were in was nearly deserted save for them, Sir Owen, the arrivals, and of course, Griffith.

Griffith spotted her and smiled, beckoning her to come and join the conversation he was having with the leader of the bunch. It was a handsome man of perhaps fifty, but a very youthful looking fifty, so much so that he could pass for thirty if he so chose. His rich, dark hair and sharp features really set his appearance as being one of nobility, but not one that she had ever met before.

She walked over with her hands folded over her front, intent on making a good first impression for Griffith and this newcomer. "How do?" she greeted not with a curtsey, but with a stiff nod of her head. It was always said that queens do not bow to just anyone.

"Ah, Charlotte, allow me to introduce a new arrival from an island nation north of Lith, a newly formed nation of England," England? It seemed fitting to the man in a way. "This is Lord Tom Voldemort." She swore she almost saw a flash across the man's dark eyes at the mention of his first name.

"How do, Lord Voldemort?"

"Quite well," he felt out any formal title such as your grace, your highness, or queen. But she extended a gloved hand to him, and he kissed her glove rather quickly, almost like he was ashamed to have to have done it. If he was from a newly established nation, his pride could be excused. However, the one woman of the bunch he had brought with him was flaring her nostrils like a bull about to charge. Charlotte though the woman to have pretty features, her current expression was not complimenting them at all.

"I trust your travel was a safe one, Lord?" Griffith asked, his close-lipped smile even managed to be charming.

"Uneventful, Lord Griffith. But your city is a marvel. I was wondering if there might be a place where we could talk to discuss a certain matter."

"Oh, of course. Please, follow me, I'll escort you." Before leaving, Griffith planted a kiss on her hand as well, leading the lord to a more secluded spot within the palace. The rest of the party remained firm in the center of the wide hall, not looking impressed in the slightest by all Falconia had to offer. The woman had even pulled out a twig and was using it to curl his hair.

"It is my pleasure to welcome members of a new fledgling nation to Falconia," Charlotte initiated conversation with the people. The only one to remotely look at her was the woman, but it was not the look someone would normally give to a royal highness, it was the look a person gave an insect. She went about twirling her hair.

"Is the city not to your liking?" Charlotte asked, unaware of how the architecture was in their homeland. "Falconia's design is quite advanced compared to all others on the main continent. It is like a city of dreams almost; do you think your lord is pleased by it?"

The mention of their lord got the woman's attention. "I'm sure that my lord has seen grander."

"Oh. Well, your nation must be quite progressive with art and design," Charlotte felt a bit put out. "I would love to hear about your island home. Up north, I imagine it must get quite cold."

"North is always cold," the woman blandly replied.

"Of course, forgive my broad question. I was only curious. I've never traveled to Lith or any nation farther north, lady…" Charlotte left the greeting to extend, waiting for her to fill in her name. She did no such thing.

"Erm," she felt her throat become dry, her attempts at building a peaceful relation was being overcome with anxiety. Had she offended this woman in some way? "Have I said something to offend you?"

"Offend me?" the woman repeated. "Apart from seeing my lord kiss the hand of a muggle?"

"Muggle?" she repeated like she had been slapped across the face.

Sir Owen who had been watching the conversation stepped in. "What was that you called the queen?" his usual calm demeanor was lacking.

"A knight?" the woman took in Owen's appearance, seemingly amused. "Not many of them where we come from."

"You may be a visitor here, but standards still stand," Owen warned. "I suggest that you apologize to the queen this instant.

The woman's face broke into a wide smile, one that did not complement her features in the slightest. "Apologize? You have no idea what the word muggle means, do you?"

"No, but I know an insult when I hear one. Apologize."

The woman licked her lips in a quick motion. "The only thing I am sorry for is being in the presence of a muggle."

Owen showed a bit of live steel. "You wench! You-!"

"-Allow me."

Charlotte turned to the new voice, and for once, she was glad to see who it belonged to.

"Go and summon a guard, they will not be necessary. Queen," Zodd's cat-like eyes gazed down at her. "Go to your desired." She did not need telling twice as she quickly left to find Griffith. Owen, sensing trouble, went to go and scramble the palace guards.

Zodd watched as the woman let out a cackle. "A brute?" she was not afraid, not yet. "A muggle is a muggle, no matter how big." Her fellow members laughed.

"You looked to start a fight by insulting the girl," Zodd knew bait when he saw it. He drew his sword and ax, watching as they aimed those wands at him, nothing at all like how the one boy had done. He dropped his weapons, he would not be needing them for this. "I will oblige your request. As an apostle to a pseudo such as yourself." That put their guard up.

"Apostle or not, you are still a mugg-gah!" Zodd's hand wrapped around her neck completely, lifting her off the ground. Two of the men made ready to fire, but Zodd threw the woman into them, knocking them over.

He grabbed one by the head, bringing the man's face to his upcoming knee. The sound of bone breaking gave his senses the pleasure that they had been missing. But the man was still alive, weakened, but the powers of pseudo-apostleship keeping him alive from the force of the hit. Perhaps some real challenge.

He backhanded another, moving into his exposed front and ripping the wand from his grasp. So reliant on magic. The boy had the physical prowess to back up his fighting style. These are worms! He found himself agitated he was dealing with such sloth.

"Filthy beast!" the woman was up and recovered. Her body and eyes looked to start glowing, signaling a change in her pseudo-apostle from.

"Already?" Zodd asked, the thrill of the fight starting up once again. "You would access your full power when I have barely unleashed? Do what you will, it will not end in your favor."

"You-!"

"Enough!" a voice washed over all of them getting them to instantly stop the fight. Only one could do that. The disguised Femto walked calmly toward them, Voldemort following behind. Zodd spotted the queen hiding at the end of the hall, her face mortified and white. "These are your followers," the disguised God Hand told the smaller apostle. "I trust you will deal with their misbehavior?"

"Of course… Lord Griffith." It looked painful for him to say it.

"Master!" the woman shouted. "You do not have to bow to-!"

"-Stay your tongue, Bellatrix, your gift can always be revoked." She shut up instantly.

"They have power, but lack discipline," Zodd told their master.

"I will deal with them," Voldemort said. "You merely caught them off guard."

"Perhaps, but they paled in comparison to the boy wizard I fought."

"What?" Voldemort asked.

"He was worth more than all these weaklings combined, a good opponent." He observed the others face. "Oh? Was it you who marked him? The boy still lives to my knowledge. But if you try to kill him as you are now," he eyed the wand held in the other apostle's hand, "you will die yourself."

"Magic is might," he whispered in an angry tone.

"Spoken like one who has not trained their body to fight, like one who relies on a greater power."

"Zodd," the disguised God Hand spoke, cutting off the retort that the other apostle was going to say. "Would you please escort the queen back to her chambers?" the girl was still a distance away, nervously trying to blend into the wall. "I will deal with the situation here."

Zodd nodded, ignoring the hateful look he was getting from the apostle. "Come," was all Zodd said as he passed by the terrified girl. As expected, he had to wait for her to overcome her fear before following a dozen paces behind. Escorting the queen seemed on par with that fight, he had been expecting so much more from magic users, and they hadn't even fired a spell before he dealt with all of them. Perhaps that boy was a rarity among his kind.

"Uh…"

"What is it?" Zodd asked, annoyed that she had spoken.

She seemed to shrink in on herself. "…What will Griffith do with them?"

"That is for him to decide. Their lives are irrelevant to you."

"You fought them."

"Some fights are worth it, most are not. They were weak but will live. It only got the blood pumping for a brief moment or two. They acted in a way that provoked a response, I had been hoping for more challenge on their end."

"…So… it had nothing to do with defending honor?" She spoke lacking confidence, lacking fire, spoken like a lady, nothing at all like the line of previous rulers of this land. Nothing at all like the other.

"Yours? You are betrothed to one who is unrivaled. One honor sullied is the same as both sullied, but a fight needs no honor to be a true fight. It is what is desired. That is my desire, to do battle and to see battle. You desire a being for the memory he provides, that was why you ran to him. You, a girl who is not a fighter, but one who is content to play a victim, to act in a way that others would like, to appeal to your desired. To others like those who mocked you, they see through your victim act."

"I... I... do not mean to come across as that, not to them, and not to Griffith." Was she perhaps aware herself of how she appeared on the outside. "I am not strong like Griffith. I... can do only what I know, to go to him."

"He is your desire, a beacon of light for you to cling." And one that is unattainable for a girl such as yourself, you are nothing but a stone to him. "If you had not sought him out, this palace would be tainted with blood." What a shame that would be.

"Y-you would have killed them if you had not been stopped, just for desire? Even if it the fight mattered not?" she still kept her distance.

"Would you, a girl who weighs little more than a sparrow, kill to save the one you desire? To feel what it is you want, to bring out another side, the side that feels desire, how far would you act?" he left her at her bedroom door, stalking off once more to recall a time of a true fight, his with the boy wizard, the Black Swordsman, and another who was the farthest from that girl, making him wonder how she was of the same make. Time did fade all traits.

A/N: Not a lot to say this time around. Thank you for reading.