Disclaimer, usual disclaimers apply
Harry lay in his bed, unable to sleep. He had been in this position for what felt like hours. Flipping his watch, he read the time, 4:38 AM, the perfect time to wake up. He went to the mirror in his bathroom and noticed what had previously been a five o'clock shadow had begun to look more like an actual beard. Deciding to shave it later, he set down the straight-edged razor.
He was just about to make a cup of coffee when he noticed the kitchen light on in the main house. Curious, he decided to go investigate. Upon reaching the back door he noticed a silhouette that looked a lot like his younger sister pattering around the kitchen.
Knocking gently, he eased open the door. Turning at the sudden disturbance, her face fell into an easy smile at seeing him.
"Couldn't sleep either?" she asked, as she began making tea. They sat together in companionable silence as the water stewed.
"Tea?" she asked, tipping her saucer towards him in an inviting gesture.
"No, thanks, believe it or not, I'm actually not a huge tea drinker," Harry said with a wan smile. She looked
at Harry, mock horror shown on her face.
"And you call yourself British?" she asked, scandalised.
"Blasphemous, I know, but actually I don't call myself British."
He waited in silence as she poured the tea into the waiting teacup.
Taking a sip of tea, she asked, "If you're not British, then what are you?"
The question wasn't accusatory, or scandalised, just an honest inquiry for information.
Harry let out a deep sigh and let his head fall into his hands. He could feel stubble rub against his calloused hands.
"In my own world, I was raised to serve in the Makavian military. But once I finished my mandatory stint, I quit to become a freelance person. I got to choose who or what I fought for."
She was quiet, simply stirring her tea, staring down into her tea, letting his words wash over her, contemplating what to say next. Harry was content to sit in silence as he looked out the window, fluffy dense snowflakes floating on invisible eddies of air, before gently setting on the ground.
"Why do you fight?"
The question came rushing out of her mouth almost as if she didn't say it quickly she would lose her nerve.
Harry remembered Dumbledore asking a very similar question, but this time, instead of the undercurrent of judgement and sanctimonious handwringing, there was a plaintive question, a simple question from a girl who just wanted answers.
"Because if I don't, who will?" Harry said simply.
"Isn't that what soldiers are for?" she asked.
"Who exactly do you think soldiers are?"
She sat there, thinking about that question as she slowly drank her tea. Harry could almost see the gears turning in her head.
"I don't want to fight." she finally declared, "I'm not weak or scared, I just don't want to."
Harry smiled.
"And that's why I fight, so you don't have to. If everyone fought, then what is the point of fighting? The point of fighting is to protect those that don't fight, all I ask is that you support me in my decision, and I'll support you in yours."
"Deal."
Suddenly a klaxon-like noise rang throughout the house.
A melodic, magical voice rang out, "Danger! Danger! Danger! Longbottoms under attack, level five security breach!"
"What is that?" Harry yelled over the din of the alarm.
"Alarm system with our Allies!" Rose shouted back, trying to be heard over the wailing of the alarm.
Harry spotted a map with a blinking red light next to Oakgrove House next to a set of coordinates. He was already halfway out the door, running towards the mech when both Lily and James came rushing down the stairs, wands out, ready for battle.
Seeing Harry already climbing into his mech James pulled Lily away. Harry going through his mental checklist was unable to hear what was being said, but whatever James had said must have had the desired effect because he saw them both walk into the house and shut off the alarm. Harry felt a rush of affection for his father, and his ability too understand that given this fight they would simply be underfoot.
Harry disappeared with a large pop, appearing in a wide open lawn with a brook frozen over, and an extremely large oak tree standing in the middle of the lawn. He could see flashes of colour coming from the downstairs windows where it appeared that there were people duelling.
Rushing forward, he ripped the front door off its hinges and hurled it at the nearest Death Eater. The heavy oak slammed into two unlucky souls. Harry stepped through the now empty doorway and saw a very striking old lady, still dressed in her pyjamas, her hair up in curlers holding her own against three death eaters. Holding his sword, he decapitated all three in a single swing. Looking around, he couldn't see any more threats.
Just as he was about to relax, the old woman called out, "Now's not the time to relax, boy. That was only the first group. The rest are sneaking up the back way through the greenhouses we need to hurry, my grandson Neville is out there."
Moving in that easy loping grace, that was common in most pilots, especially when they wanted to move quickly.. Spotting a veritable army of robed figures, making their way towards the house, he began making his way towards the oncoming horde, his sword a whirling saw blade of destruction. He paused momentarily as he spotted a young man, probably about his age slink behind the greenhouse, his wand pointed at the intruder, trying not to be seen.
Nodding his head in approval, he watched as the boy shot Stunner after Stunner into the crowd, downing them one by one. By the time they even realised they were under attack, two of their companions lay stunned at the feet. While Harry was disappointed in the boy's paltry spell selection, he was impressed by his speed and accuracy as well as the presence of mind to defend his home. Reminding himself that most children his age hadn't killed before, and how hard it was for him to take his first life, he decided to cut the boy some slack.
One of the group broke from the others to search for the mysterious combatant while the other two Death Eaters made their way toward the house. Harry was still concealed by the lengthy shadow cast by the manor house he heard, more than saw the lady he had rescued earlier come marching out of the house and take aim at one of the two Death Eaters.
"Oh, you want some, do you, Avery? I knew your father, the pathetic brat he was!"
The Death Eater on the left looked momentarily stunned before taking aim with a wand and shooting a green spell straight toward the lady. Harry tried to intercept it, but he was too late. He watched helplessly as the spell slipped under his outstretched arm, impacting her straight in the chest.
She fell back, body lifeless. The body hit the floor with a lifeless thud. Harry heard a scream rip from the boy's throat, all pain and anguish as the colours of his spells changed from red to a mass of colours, he watched in horrid fascination as the Death Eater that had split from the group to hunt down the boy was seemingly transformed into a plant human hybrid, neither system meshing with the other. The man fell and quit twitching, lying still.
Even still, the boy was not done. He charged the woman who had evidently killed his grandmother and began peppering her with spells. Taken aback She could do naught but shield against the onslaught of spells coming from the boy, who was bearing down on her like a man possessed.
Harry allowed the boy to duel, understanding the psychological need to destroy his enemy, as this was personal to the boy now. Harry dispatched the Death Eater's companion, a four-round burst obliterating the man's head. The boy was too consumed by his grief to notice the noise and admittedly loud burst from his chain gun, the woman he was duelling certainly wasn't. She jumped as the viscera of her dead companion sprayed the back of her neck and the extremely loud shots echoed from his chain gun caused her to flinch and lose her concentration. A multitude of spells connected with her midsection and her whole entire chest seemed to turn inside out.
He looked around, still keyed up, looking for a fight. Seeing none, he deflated. Harry could almost physically see the adrenaline leave the boy's body, Harry stood there awkwardly as he broke down sobbing. Harry dismounted his mech and made his way over to the sobbing boy.
"I understand you're hurting right now, but you need to be strong. Your grandmother would've wanted it that way, come on, up you go."
He helped the boy, Neville, Harry presumed, up to his feet. Taking a deep breath, the boy looked down at his right ring finger and took a deep breath, calming himself somewhat. Squaring his shoulders, he looked Harry right in the eye.
"Neville Longbottom, Earl of Cornwall, at your service, If I may have your name kind sir, I must know the man to whom I owe my life," he said pompously.
"I am Harry Potter,'' Harry said suspiciously, "and I do not accept your life," he said as an afterthought
"Even still, if you ever need anything, just ask,'' Neville said, dropping the stilted formality he had used just moments before.
"As I said, the name is Neville Longbottom. Pleased to meet you."
The duo was quiet for a few moments as Neville examined the ring that just appeared on his finger.
"What is that?" Harry asked, gesturing toward the ring.
"Oh it's the head of house ring, it is worn by the Head of House, which is me now, apparently."
"What happened to your father?" Harry asked carefully, wondering if this was perhaps a sore spot for the boy.
"After the Dark Lord was defeated… the Lestranges came to this house and tortured my parents into insanity." His voice broke on the last part.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, unsure what to say.
Harry was angry, the Longbottons had suffered enough, this poor man an orphan twice over, his Parents dead in all but name, and now his grandmother lie dead, killed by a spell that Harry was unable to stop. Harry understood fighting, he understood taking out important targets, but to do it to a relative non entity, just to strike fear into those that would oppose him? This Voldemort was no better than Ockern, he felt a now familiar fire rekindle inside his chest.
"It's fine, it happened when I was a baby, I barely even remember it anymore," he said, glancing around. "Where is everyone?"
"They're probably being kept out by the wards," Harry offered helpfully.
"Oh, right, you're probably correct."
He looked constipated for a moment like he was just trying to do something exceedingly hard when his eye popped open.
"If they're kept out by the wards, why aren't you?" he asked.
"You know," Harry remarked, "I'm not really sure."
Harry found himself the next morning waking bright and early, realising that today was Christmas. He awoke quickly and made himself a cup of coffee. After what the Order was now referring to as the Battle of Christmas Eve, his parents had invited Neville to come live with them for the time being. He had refused, citing there was too much to do being the Head of House, and he was going to spend Christmas with his girlfriend, Hannah Abbott, anyway.
Basking in the warmth of his coffee, he checked the time, seven on the dot. He began to ferry his gifts to the house, placing them next to the tree, where many other gifts sat all wrapped, many from his parents, but he saw a few from Father Christmas. Only the Firebolt was normally wrapped, given the fragile nature of the gifts.
He sat there waiting until he heard feet tromping upstairs, he smiled in anticipation, as he spotted Jack's messy hair poking out from behind the stairs. Moments later, his father appeared at the bottom of the stairs, leading the rest of the family out.
"How long have you been here? Lily asked, seeing Harry's comfortable posture on an overstuffed loveseat.
"Oh, not long," Harry replied. He noticed the family all sitting in a circle in the middle of the room, getting down to join them, he asked, "What now? How does this work?"
"We each open one gift at a time, going around the circle, until we get to Father Christmas' gifts, then it's a free-for-all!" Jack said, bouncing up and down like he was on a sugar rush.
"Who wants to go first?" James asked the room.
"I'd like to give my gifts out first if I could," Harry said.
Levitating the Firebolt towards himself, Harry handed the box to his younger brother. Jack ripped open the box with abandon, his face growing wide as he saw it was a broom and even wider once he saw it was a Firebolt. The boy began to hyperventilate as the magnitude of the gift set in
"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!" he babbled over and over again as he slammed into Harry, nearly knocking the wind out of him, squeezing with all his might, around Harry's midsection.
"I can't wait to use this at Hogwarts!" he said, his eyes beaming with excitement. Suddenly without warning his face fell, "The rules say first years aren't allowed their own brooms."
Thinking quickly, Harry said, "I have an idea."
Looking up, his face still forlorn, Jack asked, "What's your idea?"
"So first years aren't allowed their own brooms, right? So what if I take it, and as seeing how I'm not a first year, and I'll just lend it to you on occasion?"
Jack's eyes went big at that, his mouth hanging open.
"You'd do that for me?" he asked
"Of course, I would, why wouldn't I?" Harry asked awkwardly. He felt his ribs groan as Jack hugged him even tighter.
"Ok, why don't you let him go?" James asked, preventing Jack from crushing Harry any further.
Acquiescing only insofar as to allow Harry to breathe, he instead comforted himself with burrowing in as close as could possibly be achieved.
"Up next," Harry said, this time levitating the tome over to where Rose was sitting on the couch, her legs curled up underneath her resting comfortably. Plucking the book out of the air, she took a moment to read the title, then reread it, before screaming, and throwing her arms around Harry, tackling him to the ground. It was only luck that allowed him to catch the book in another Levitation Charm.
Smiling bemusedly, Lily walked up to the levitated book, before reading the title, rereading it again, she let out a short gasp as she reverently grabbed the book and gently placed it in Rose's spot on the couch.
"Where did you even find that?" Rose demanded, after allowing Harry to sit up.
"Mr. Blotts had it in his collection and once I saw it, I knew you had to have it," Harry said, simply. "Mum said you were wicked at charms, and," he shrugged, "if you're going to be the best, you better learn from the best."
She let out another shriek and buried him in a hug. Catching his mother's eye, he noted a slight pinch of disappointment in her eye intermixed with the happiness
"I still have a couple more gifts to give out," Harry said as he saw a look of panic cross his parents' faces.
"I think mum will be first," he said as he extricated himself from the iron grip of his siblings and stood up to retrieve the emerald necklace. Handing it over to his mother, he watched as she slowly started crying. Wrapping him in a hug, she kept whispering "Thank you, thank you" into his ear as tears ran freely down her face, never once letting go. Finally, after a few moments, Harry was reaching his limits and gently removed himself from his Mother's embrace.
"Last but definitely not least."
He showed the almost life-size stag to his father
"Happy Christmas, Dad."James slapped him on the back, not saying anything, but looking closer he saw his father's eyes were watery. The family stood there, just basking in the togetherness for a few minutes before Lily spoke up, her voice still thick with emotion.
"So here's your gift, it's not quite as grand as the rest of the gifts," she laughed weakly, "but we hope you like it just the same" James handed Harry a tome about the size of the one he had gifted to Rose, but instead of a periwinkle blue cover, it had a black leather cover on it with the potter crest on it. The title page read The Potter Family Grimoire. Flipping through the book, Harry saw different spells, blueprints, and interesting facts. Harry paused to read about a particularly nasty sea monster that one Johan Potter found on his trips in the pacific ocean.
"It's a book of never-ending pages, and you can use it to write down any sort of spells or inventions or whatever you run across and it will be preserved for all future generations. Some wizards claim their grimoires hold 'family magicks' but that's not actually possible. While there are some magical traits, such as Parseltongue, which is the ability to talk to snakes, or being Metamorphmagus, the ability to change your appearance at will, are genetic, and only certain people have those traits, and there are certainly family lines where the trait in question is more common. But spell magic is capable of being learned by a sufficiently strong individual, but oftentimes the knowledge of how to cast a spell, for example, was lost to time. So the beauty of a grimoire is in its ability to teach the younger generation things that might have been lost to the sands of time. Each grimoire is different based on what the writer at the time thought was important."
Harry felt his throat constrict as he said a muttered, "Thank you."
James gently patted Harry's arm, "use it well son, use it well
A/N Please Read and Review, thanks again to ChiaroscuroGirl for her wonderful betaing.