PART VI: RESOLUTION

Chapter Forty Four: Why?

Cornelius Fudge sat in his office, humiliated at the recent events. Those barbarians, those backward people that he had helped, had dared to seize the school. That he was publically threatened was a personal humiliation but one that he could deal with. His biggest problem was that he couldn't do anything about any of it.

Aurors were sent to try and subdue these people but they came back with a confusing message: They couldn't be bothered. It seemed that whenever they came close to the entrance of the school they became apathetic. No one who tried could bring himself to even raise his wand. And now, one of those barbarians sat in his office.

Lord Darcy smiled as politely as he could. "Minister, I did not come here to gloat. You may find this difficult to believe but the Empire is more than eager to give the school back to you."

"Under what conditions?" Fudge asked. His tone showed his disbelief.

"We extended an invitation at one point for you to visit our world for an exchange of information. The only thing His August Majesty asks is that you accept this invitation. We need to explain ourselves to you. This misunderstanding between us must come to an end."

The Minister of Magic laughed derisively. "You call this a misunderstanding."

"I do." Lord Darcy phrased his next statement carefully. "Our conditions are this: You must visit the Empire and meet with the Duke of Cambridge. He has access to all of the information you might want. After he is finished with his presentation, he will tell you when we would like to return the school to you. It is for you to decide wether or not to accept this date. If you do not, you may set any date you choose and it will be honoured."

The Minister shook his head. "Do you expect me to believe that?"

Lord Darcy smiled politely. "Take your time, if you wish. Should you choose to accept our offer simply come to Hogwarts School. You will find no difficulty entering the grounds."

"Is that all?" Cornelius Fudge refused to believe the matter could be resolved so easily.

"A token is always helpful," Lord Darcy said. "I will give you a piece of information. The Creevey family is currently at Hogwarts. You may wish to feign ignorance of this fact and see where it leads."

Lord Darcy's exit left the Minister deep in thought, thoughts that were disturbed by a knocking at the door. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the best Aurors the Ministry had. The look on his face did not bode well.

"And?" the Minister asked.

"It's a ward, and it completely encircles the school."

"I know that. How do we dispel the ward?"

Kingsley grimaced. "First, we get inside the school . . ."

Fudge slapped his desk. "This is ridiculous. These people are so backward compared to us yet they can perform this simple trick."

Kingsley shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, I did dispose of those letters."

The Minister gave him a confused look. "Which letters?"

This time Kingsley looked confused. "The letters from the Creevey boy. Your instructions said to hold all mail to and from the school if it involved anyone in the other world."

"I gave no such order."

"But Undersecretary Umbridge . . ."

Fudge paused. Was Lord Darcy telling the truth? He would play the ignorant and see where this led. "She suggested such a move but I do not remember approving it. Shacklebolt, did she give you this order in writing?"

"She showed me the parchment but . . ."

"But you have no written proof?"

Kingsley shook his head. "No."

"This is a serious charge, Shacklebolt. I must demand some kind of proof."

Kingsley paused. "I think, Sir, that I know how to get it."


Kingsley was smiling when he left the Minister's office. It seemed that Dumbledore was right. In the midst of all of this, Umbridge was playing a game of her own. But now he had an ace to play. He neglected to tell the Minister of the fiasco at the Creevey home. Colin, the wayward son, had a portkey on him when he was returned home. It was 'as though he knew what was planned'. Now the entire family was assumed to be safe at Hogwarts.

One of the Aurors from the Creevey home joined him, and Kingsley knocked at another door, entering when he heard the call.

"Is it done?" Umbridge asked. "The Minister wants me to inform him at once."

"Not quite," Kingsley lied. "It seems that the written authorization was misplaced. After all, two wizarding children are involved." The other auror nodded.

"I have that authorization right here," Umbridge said smugly. "There isn't any problem."

"I need a copy for filing purposes." Kingsley smiled politely as thought to say he was only doing his job. The other auror said nothing but gave an impatient look, as though she wanted to get the job done and go home.

"Of course," Umbridge said with a conceited smile. "We can't let this be held up for lack of paperwork." She reached into her desk and came out with a parchment, handing it to Kingsley.

"It is all in order," Kingsley said as he read the parchment, and then gave it to the auror to read. The auror nodded and she changed shape.

"Tonks?" Umbridge said in surprise. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Wotcher, Boss. I'm just a witness," Tonks said.

"And I am the accuser," Kingsley Shacklebolt said as he put the parchment away and pulled out his wand. "It is against the law to forge or otherwise misrepresent the Minister's signature. Or do you think Fudge will remember signing this document."

"He did sign it," Umbridge said, keeping her smug look. "And I have witnesses."

Kingsley did not falter. "I know. I talked to them. That is why I specified the term 'or misrepresent'."

Umbridge began to say something as her hand slipped beneath her desk.

"Stupify," Kingsley shouted.

"That was easy," Tonks said. "Why'd you need me?"

"Easy?" Kingsley asked in surprise. "Do you know how slippery this woman is? She handpicked those Aurors because they will do what they're told and ask no questions later. The only reason we caught her was because the Creeveys escaped. Her handpicked troupe may be willing to do her dirty work, but they don't want the blame for failing."

"Have you really talked to the witnesses?"

"Probably. I have no idea who they are."

Tonks smiled. "She'll get away with this."

"I know," Kingsley admitted. "The Minister will be forced to hush it up. He can't deal with another embarrassment, especially when he finds out how he signed this."

Kingsley Shacklebolt was right. The Ministry did shuffle the matter under the rug. But it did have some effect. Rumors began circulating and Umbridge was pressured into stepping down as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Her plans to eventually become Minister of Magic became dreams.


His August Majesty, John IV, looked out over London from his window in the Tower. The war was continuing and it was going badly.

Roumeleia's remaining fleet had ravaged Marseilles and left no major port in the Mediterranean open to the Empire. They were making demonstrations in preparation for an invasion. Fortunately, Field Marshall Markham had prepared for such a circumstance. His own demonstrations were giving the Greeks something to think about. The Turkic ships in the Southern Atlantic had transported thousands of troops to New France and had established a significant foothold. They were also continuing to disrupt the Atlantic trade.

On the positive side, the army was on the move. It would take months to organize the forces remaining in New France with those that could be spared from New England and elsewhere but it was only a matter of time. The news from Naval Headquarters was also promising. Gibralter was firmly in hand. In addition, all the available dreadnaughts had been brought up to standards and construction of new ships were proceeding apace. The Northern Atlantic was still in control of the Empire.

But problems and promises lurked on the horizon. The Turkic fleet in the Indian Ocean had been sent to join their enlarged Altlantic Fleet. It would be early spring when the next great naval battle would take place. The Lord High Admiral had assured His Majesty that Gibralter was the most likely spot. By then, the remaining dreadnaughts in the Mediterranean could be combined to attack from the west, with Admiral Grissom's fleet caught in between.

Reports also came from the Iberian Peninsula. The Emir of Grenada has been having high level discussions with the King of Castile. The early rumours where that they were discussing mutual defense. The Emir's dislike for the Sultanates was common knowledge. Also, the Emir had negotiated trade routes for independent merchants, and these routes included access to Gibralter. The situation was becoming interesting. His Majesty had given his approval to recognize Grenada as independent of the Turkic Caliphate in exchange for the purchase of Port Gibralter.

"John?"

John IV turned to see his wife standing at the doorway.

"The New Year Celebration is about to begin."

His Majesty nodded. Again dressed in military uniform, he would make his announcement. At the same time, near enough, Casimir IX would be making the same announcement in Krakow. By the time word of these announcements were received in Constantinople the combined fleets of the two Empires will have broken out of the Black Sea. A new phase of the war had begun. The Empire officially had an ally.


Sigismund Polovski sat politely next to the Ambassador from Roumeleia. They exchanged small talk as the Ambassador tried to figure out why this boy should be seated next to him. A brash young man who spoke with arrogance and disrespect. But those questions would have to wait to be answered. The Polish King had entered, his dark-blond haired flowing over his shoulders, and his blue eyes holding a cunning look. He was richly dressed for this New Year Celebration.

Everyone rose and bowed deeply.

"It is still an hour before the New Year," Casimir IX said in a strong voice. "But some things will not wait to be told. As of two hours ago, we have officially entered into the war that is raging around us." He smiled confidently in the Ambassador's direction. "Already, our combined fleets have engaged in a successful night assault on the enemy in the Straights of Marmara. We should successfully enter the Mediterranean before night falls again."

The Ambassador looked startled as he understood what His Slavonic Majesty meant. Then he turned slightly as he heard a noise from behind. Two soldiers with weapons ready were standing behind his chair.

"Our Gracious Brother John Plantagenet agrees that We are within Our rights to take back by force Our ancestral lands in the Balkans, Croatia and Bosnia, and He has offered the help of His naval forces. Together, We will see a people in bondage set free."

Everyone in the room cheered, except for one man who did not even risk scoffing at the base remarks. But that man had received another shock. The boy next to him was taking glass lenses out of his eyes, tinted lenses, and replacing them with clear lenses. The boy looked at him with green eyes.

"We welcome now, Our guest of honour, who comes to visit Us after great hardship. The nephew of My Brother, Lord Henry of Somerset."

His Majesty waved his hand and the two soldiers grabbed the Ambassador, chair and all, and dragged him noisily from the hall. Harry stood up and bowed deeply.

"Nephew," Casimir said proudly, "Come join Us."

The soldiers stopped dragging the Ambassador when they reached the doorway. He was permitted to see His Slavonic Majesty embrace the Anglo-French Lordling in friendship. Casimir wanted Kyril to be told what had happened.


Harry arrived at the border of Saxony a week later. Officially he was back within the Empire by the right of John IV being the Holy Roman Emperor. This was not exactly correct. The Germanic and Roman provinces accepted the King as their monarch but held the right to control their own affairs. The result was that he reigned but did not rule. Nor could he enforce his sovereignty because these states would immediately ask for help from His Slavonic Majesty. By the same token, Poland could not encroach for fear that these same states would then ask for help from the Anglo-French Empire. Thus Harry had returned to the Empire but still had a way to go. At least now he had company. The Reverend Father Maurice Pannier.

They had settled at once into their sleeping compartment on the Saxony Express. The train would take them from Dresden to Paris where they would take another train to Calais and from there a transport to London. Within the week, the Fifteenth at the latest, he would be home.

"Shall we talk now, Lord Henry," Father Maurice asked. "Or would you prefer a chance to relax?"

Harry started to answer but saw the inquisitive look the priest gave him. "Do you want me to talk or listen?"

Father Maurice had Harry sit down on the couch. "You have been through an ordeal, my son. I thought you might wish to talk about it."

"Which part? My imprisonment? How about the months riding a camel and learning BurgDeutsche? I could tell you about dining with two Emperors."

"Harry, I am talking to you as a friend, not as your confessor. I am worried about you."

"I didn't do anything."

"You DID NOT do anything. Please remember your grammar."

Harry shot an angry look at the priest but found him grinning. "I think I do need to relax." A gleam entered his eye. "Father, I did have encounters with two girls during my journey. It was interesting."

Father Maurice raised an eyebrow. "From the way you say that I would assume that nothing happened, in the physical sense. That makes your story even more interesting."

They sat in the compartment for over two hours. Harry explained his encounters with the two spies and with Countess Polovski. After that, he couldn't stop talking. He spent most of an hour talking about the differences between the two Royal courts and his impressions of both rulers. He barely touched on his journey across the desert but there was not much to say. He didn't talk about his confinement at all. Then the porter knocked on the door to announce the evening meal being served in the lounge, and they dressed for dinner.

The lounge was the front half of the car they were riding in. The lounge furniture had been moved to one side and three tables had been set up for the twelve passengers. Harry and Father Maurice found themselves sitting with a couple from Paris returning from a holiday with relatives.

"Are you really Lord Henry Somerset?" The woman asked after Father Maurice suggested they dispense with protocol.

"Maria!" her husband protested.

"But Oscar, everyone is talking about him."

"Hopefully they are saying good things," Harry interjected.

"Wonderful things, My Lord," Maria said. "How you managed to escape and crossed the desert alone. Did you really sneak into the Grand Palace in Constantinople?"

Harry paused before he answered. Everyone was listening to the conversation. He glanced at Father Maurice who shrugged his shoulders. Harry was a hero and would have to learn to deal with the situation.

"I did not sneak in, Goodwoman Gottlieb. I received a personal invitation from Emperor Kyril himself. True, he did think I was a young Polish nobleman, but I thought it best not to tell him the truth."

Maria Gottlieb gave his hand a squeeze in gratitude for the anecdote, while several of the other passengers cheered politely.

Harry again asked that protocol be set aside when someone at another table asked to ask a question. "In truth, Sir, it has been a long time since I have had a chance to speak Anglo-French. I hope I have not developed an accent."

After a polite laugh, the man asked, "My Lord, you are an officer but you are not in uniform, and your clothing . . ."

"Is the latest style in Krakow. My uniform was stolen from me during my imprisonment, and my remaining clothes are in London. I must wear these poor things until I return home."

Harry fingered the short cut jacket inlaid with gold filigree to exaggerate his remark. He would not admit it but he was enjoying himself. All of these adults where treating him as an equal, not as a child. But then he was fourteen. In this world he was considered an adult. He turned from the man who had asked the question and noticed a girl, his age, sitting at the other table next to her mother. She caught his eye and smiled, and Harry blushed. Her mother noticed.

"Lord Henry, permit me to introduce myself, I am Lady Henrietta Wentworth. And this is my daughter Lady Gwyneth."

"My Ladies," Harry said, mentally noting that Baron Wentworth was the liaison officer for His Majesty to the Papal Court at Avignon.

"Lord Henry," Lady Gwyneth asked amiably, "however did you deal with your terrible imprisonment?"

"I slept, My Lady. The worst thing about imprisonment is that it is very boring. The truth of the matter is that there is not much to say."

His tone clearly said that the matter was closed, but Lady Gwyneth missed the cue. "But to sit there day after day. What must have been going through your mind?"

The silence let her know that she had made a social error. But now that she asked, everyone hoped that Harry would answer. Father Maurice tried to cover for him.

"I am sure Lord Henry dwelt upon the fact that Our Lord God would look after him and guide him through his troubles."

"Actually, I thought about spiders."

Harry's answer took everyone by surprise.

"Spiders?" Lady Gwyneth asked. She had blundered once and the saying was quite clear. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Harry couldn't help but smile. "How much do you know of my past? Then you should know that before my brother found me I had spent most of my life as an unwelcome addition. I was not what my guardians expected. When I was free from my labours, I was locked up in the cupboard under the stairs where my only companions were the spiders that spun their webs there. It seems that dungeons also have spiders. I spent my time trying to find out how African spiders differed from English ones. They do not. Spiders are spiders."

"Perhaps My Lord would care to write a paper on the subject for the Naturalist Society," one of the passengers suggested.

The servers took this as their cue and began setting out the food.


Harry found himself sitting next to Gwyneth on the afternoon that the train passed the border of Burgundy and into France. They were each given a glass of wine and a toast was made to officially welcome Lieutenant Lord Henry Somerset back into the Empire. After the toast, Gwyneth dared to ask. "Lord Henry, I know it is a vain hope, but do you have a relationship?"

Harry gave a wry smile. He enjoyed talking to someone his own age and he knew he should expect the question. "I do have a close friend, Lady Caroline Sheffield, but it is a friendship of convenience." He hesitated after he said that. He didn't know why he added the last part.

"Convenience? But Henry . . ." She risked being informal. "How is that so?"

Harry started to answer, but stopped. He had to think about what he said next. Gwyneth had, in her social manner, suggested they pursue a 'close friendship'.

"Caroline, I mean Lady Caroline is always having to deal with suitors that her father finds for her. She uses the arrangement to turn away anyone she does not like."

Gwyneth noted his tone. "And how many has she turned away?"

"Um, all of them."

"And how many have you turned away."

Harry blushed. "Gwyneth?"

She stared right into his eyes. "How many? Including myself."

"I have not . . ." Gwyneth snorted. ". . . All of them."

Harry looked up to see a warm smile. A soft hand caressed his.

"Lady Caroline Sheffield is lucky to have you, Lord Henry Somerset."

"You're not mad? You are not mad?"

"About what, My Lord? Jealous, perhaps, but not angry. I would have been proud to have you think so much of me."

Her grin was infectious, and Harry could not help himself. "I have a brother."

Both of them laughed.


Harry sat in Lord Bontriomphe's study. He was in uniform again, and surprised to find his sword waiting for him. It was almost as though nothing had happened. Except that Lord London was not there. He had been sent away to school. But Harry would have a chance to see him when he went to Cambridge. It seemed that he would have to return to Hogwarts.

"I was expecting that news, My Lord. The Reverend Father told me about the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I am to understand that I have tied for first place?"

"A remarkable performance," Lord Bontriomphe noted. "Considering you were half a world away at the time. Make that a world and a half away."

"I am sure Robert will explain everything to me."

"I must caution you, Lord Henry. As far as your world knows, you were there at the tournament. And Professor Quirrell will explain matters to you when you arrive at the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute. You will find it interesting."


Harry found himself, to his surprise, being taken to the estate of his Great Uncle, the Duke of Cambridge. Professor Quirrell was closemouthed about the reason but insisted that it was important, that it had to be done immediately. This was not going to be a social visit.

"Your Grace," Harry greeted the Duke, and bowed.

"Lieutenant Somerset," the Duke said without formality. "If you will follow me."

They walked through the large country house to a locked door guarded by four Armsmen. As the Duke removed a key from his person and put it in the lock, one of the Armsmen left quickly, returning just as quickly with four more Armsmen and the Captain of the Guard. The Duke then turned the key. Two Armsmen then stepped forward and slowly opened the heavy wooden door. The opposite side was covered in thick metal. They walked into a small room and another locked door, this one entirely of metal. The Armsmen were followed by the Duke and Harry, with two more Armsmen and the Captain behind them. Harry could hear the door behind him being closed and locked.

The Armsmen unlocked the metal door, and opened it to reveal a staircase going downward. Torches were produced and the party proceeded. After the first level, they passed a small room and the Duke stopped.

"Good Afternoon, Father. Are you well?"

"I am indeed well, Your Grace. And I have kept my vigil. I see you have brought your nephew again."

The Duke smiled. "This is Henry, Father. He is Robert's twin brother."

The priest smiled. "God's blessing upon you, Lord Henry. May what you learn today encourage you always to do the Lord's work."

"Thank you, Father." Harry said, letting his confusion show.

"Do you need anything, Father?" the Duke asked. "Food or water? Wood for the fires?"

"There is plenty to last me until I am relieved. Thank you for asking, Your Grace."

"Relieved?" Harry asked.

"Henry, the father and others before him are the final Guardians of the Traveler Stone. They are also the caretakers. Each in turn is locked in this dungeon with enough supplies to last for six months. It is the Holy Father's presence that keeps the Traveler Stone here."

Harry nodded. The Traveler Stone had one annoying aspect. It had to remain accessible. If it were to be locked away then it would relocate itself to some random location. That someone was here who could touch the Stone, if he should choose to do so, was sufficient to prevent the Stone from leaving the dungeon.

"Henry?" the Duke said, and pointed to the next archway. Harry stepped forward and looked in. The room was as small as the previous one and all but empty. Near the far wall, floating three feet in the air, was a small red jewel similar in shape to the control stone. This was the Traveler Stone. Should Harry step forward and touch it he would instantly trade places with another Harry in some parallel world who had touched the stone at the same time. The Duke spoke as the thought passed through Harry's mind.

"Do not enter the room. Should you do so, the Armsmen will kill you instantly. We dare not risk anyone touching that stone." Harry nodded. "And now, dear nephew, I will show you why. There is one more flight of stairs, and one more locked door to walk through. Once we are inside, do not attempt to touch anything. To do so, for whatever reason, is cause for death."

Harry swallowed hard. "I understand, Uncle."

"Henry." The Dukes voice was stern. "This is no idle threat. It applies to everyone. Including myself."

At that point, Harry heard swords being drawn. He glanced at the Armsmen and saw that the Captain had drawn his revolver and had cocked the hammer. His look was one of grim determination.

The Duke led the way down the staircase and along the stone corridor, and unlocked the last door, again made of iron. Two Armsmen pulled the door open. One of them held out his hand and the Duke handed him the key. They remained outside as the rest of the group entered a large hall. They then closed and locked the door behind them.

"This is a cage," Harry noted.

The Duke nodded. The Captain opened the barred gate, and The Duke, Harry, and four Armsmen walked through. The Captain closed the gate and pulled out a key, locking it.

"You may proceed, Your Grace."

The Captain walked over to the iron door ten feet behind them and waited. He made Harry nervous by the fact that he held his revolver at the ready, prepared to fire at any or all of them.

"Luminos Deus," the Duke called out, and globes scattered around the ceiling lit up, brightening the room considerably. Harry stared at what he saw.

A half dozen tables were in the room. On each table were a dozen glass jars sealed with lead and filled with, he was told, a preservative liquid. But it was what was in the jars that made Harry stare.

The creatures were grey, spindly things. They were floating in their jars, obviously dead.

"What are they?"

"Parasites. We assume they are dead but we dare not take the slightest chance. Do you see the line in front of us? That is the death line. The Armsmen will kill you if you cross that line for any reason. Should you by chance touch one of those jars, all of us will die. The Armsmen will carry out their orders without even thinking. They have been conditioned to do so."

Harry looked at the Armsmen, and one of them gave him a sad smile and a nod. Harry followed his gaze and saw a spot on the stone floor that was stained brown from dried blood. He looked around and saw other stains.

Harry asked the expected question. "How did those things get here?"

"One came through to our world because it was attached to its host. It came via the Traveler Stone. Over five hundred years ago, Sorcerers had volunteers deliberately touch the stone. They hoped to find the counterparts and interview them. With luck, they would find someone from an advanced world. Instead this came through."

"The parasite's host was a human being," Harry muttered.

"A human being controlled by the parasite. By luck, it appeared in the village that the man who volunteered had come from. Sorcerers were prepared for that hopeful possibility. But His Majesty was cautious and had Armsmen there as well. The counterpart could have been a dangerous criminal bent on escape. It was a near thing. The creature had come prepared. Their species was using the Traveler Stone to spread to other worlds. It immediately began to infect the townspeople. It had been well trained."

"What happened?"

"An Armsman spotted the creature as it infected a child. He was rational about what he saw and hid himself to watch. It took less than a minute for the new host to succumb. The Armsman spread the news to the barracks. They summoned aid and surrounded the village."

The Duke paused.

"They slaughtered everyone. They burned every building. They left nothing alive. Anyone who came in physical contact was immediately killed. Condemned criminals were given the tasks of cutting open the bodies. Of the two hundred bodies found, more than a third had these creatures growing inside them. Once the specimens were secured, the criminals were also killed, as well as anyone they touched. The bodies were burned where they lay.

"Since that day, the stone has been under guard to prevent the risk of anyone touching it. We can only thank The Merciful Father that the creature appeared in the one place we were capable of recognizing it and stopping it."

"And the control stones?"

The Duke smiled. His nephew was taking this well, which he expected. Robert had also shown the same stamina.

"It is the means to an end. The scientists at the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute have been studying the Stone to find a means to destroy it. They have found the stone in your world and examined it as well. It seems that one of the theories has a basis in fact and we are prepared to meet our goal." The Duke smiled. "It should please you to know that to do so, we have to destroy its counterpart in your world as well. It turns out to be a rather simple task. All we need do is bring one of the stones to the other world and both should cancel each other out."

"That is good news," Harry admitted.

"Professor Dumbledore agrees as well. He is the only other person from your world to be shown this room. He agreed to do anything to help us in this task. In turn, we have helped him fight the false lord Voldemort, without much success, although we have thwarted certain possible allies."

Harry paused as he thought about what he was being told. "Your Grace, when do you plan on destroying the Traveler Stone?"

"After the final task of your Tri-Wizard Tournament. His Majesty demanded from the first that no one be left behind in that world, and now we must wait. It was thought convenient to enter Lord Somerset's name, to confuse Voldemort should he have some part in the plot that caused your name to be entered."

Harry held back the thought that came into his head. The prophecy had not been fulfilled. He had not yet faced Lord Voldemort in battle, a battle in which one of them would die. He looked up at his uncle for confirmation.

The Duke did not smile. "I will miss you, Harry Potter. I have become quite fond of you. I know Lord London and Lord Somerset will miss you as well. I regret that it had to end this way."

"I understand, Your Grace," Harry said evenly. "And I thank you for your generosity."

The Duke nodded to the Captain who walked forward and unlocked the barred door. Once everyone was back inside the cage, he closed that door and walked back to the iron door. He struck that door hard in a prearranged signal and it was unlocked and opened.

"Come, Harry," the Duke said. "It is almost time for you to go home."


Professor Quirrell was waiting in the coach for Harry. It would be a somber trip back to the Royal Thaumaturgical Institute. But the reason was not because of what Harry had just learned.

"Did you have an interesting conversation, Lord Henry?"

"That would be an understatement," Harry said with a wry smile. "I suppose you know what we discussed."

Gabriel Quirrell nodded. "I remember when the Duke's father and I had the same conversation. It was so very long ago but it is still vivid in my memory. My Lord, may I bother to ask you another question?"

Harry nodded. After what he had seen he wasn't sure if he really wanted to talk about anything.

"Do you know why we use magic so differently in this world?"

"I never really thought about it, Professor."

"You do know that we do not use wands, at least not the type of wands that are used in your world. Do you know what would happen if we did?"

"No," Harry answered tentatively.

"Anything, My Lord. We have examined your world, not only the wizarding world but the muggle world as well. There are significant differences."

"Do you mean planes and flying brooms?" Harry ventured.

"Not at all, My Lord. I mean people. You, for example."

"Me?"

"Of course. Did you know that you are the only person in common between our two worlds? There is no other person in one world who also exists in the other. You are the only thing we have in common. Yet in your world you can perform magic. You have even been able to perform magic without a wand, while your brother, your twin, has never been able to do so. Did you ever wonder why?"

Harry knew that Professor Quirrell was referring to incidents such as the time he went to the zoo with his cousin Dudley. He brushed his hair from his eyes and stopped. That was another difference. In all his years with the Dursleys, his hair never grew, yet now it hung over his shoulders. "Do you know why, Professor?"

"I have a theory, Lord Henry. The wand you use, the wand each wizard and witch in your world uses, is an amplification device. Do you understand that?"

"I was told that was how wizards perform magic."

"Do you know the degree to which your abilities are amplified?"

"A hundred times?" Quirrell shook his head. "A thousand times?"

"Somewhere in between. But Harry, you must remember that a Sorcerer, without a wand, is well matched against a wizard with a wand. That is why in our world you are a Naval officer instead. You can perform the repelling spell because it only needs the slightest skill to be maintained. It uses none of your magic in execution. But without your wand, you can do nothing that we can do in our world. It is rare to find someone in your world who has enough ability to become a sorcerer. We have found only two, and we have secretly tested thousands of people in your world."

"I know Hermione. And the other would be Professor Dumbledore."

Professor Quirrell nodded. "Now think on this, Harry. At some point in your world there must have been a number of people with the strength of magic that we have. And they would have learned to use magic with your amplification devices. What do you think they did?"

Harry was stunned at the thought. He had no idea. Dumbledore might know. Or maybe someone like Firenze, the Centaur he met that one time. Centaurs were supposed to have long memories. Involuntarily, Harry's eyes went wide as he put the facts together.

"The Centaurs. Wizards made them."

Professor Quirrell nodded but he did not smile. "And they hate humans because of it. There are no Centaurs in our world, My Lord. No Merpeople. No Dementors. No House Elves. No Dragons. These were all the creation of the Mages in your world. And they did more. They rent the fabric of space and time. A wizard thinks nothing of entering a house which is bigger on the inside than on the outside. Yourself and Lord Somerset both went back in time with Dame Hermione Granger. Magic permeates your world and its active use keeps its essence active."

Harry swallowed hard. He had one horror revealed to him. The horror of another world. Now a new horror was being presented to him. His own world.

"What happened to them?" Harry dared to ask.

"We can only guess. Some slew each other. Some transformed themselves undoubtedly, although into what I dare not guess. But one by one they destroyed themselves and their bloodlines. Only the weaker ones survived. The ones who did not have the strength to wantonly destroy. These survived as did the tools left behind."

"Our world must frighten you," Harry said and received a grim nod.

"It frightens us in two ways, My Lord. Because your world is in fact two worlds, muggle and magic. We have also studied what these muggles in your world have done, forced only to use physical means. Shall I list the horrors for you?"

"You mean nuclear weapons."

"That is part of it. But your world seems smart enough not to use them. But there is also rampant disease. Influenza is so common in your world, people think nothing of it. They are more concerned with AIDS which is much less deadly and more easily avoided. They have taken to the skies and even to the planets yet they destroy their own world and argue about how much longer they can continue to do so before it is too late. Your population has grown unchecked so that it threatens to destroy you should all your other efforts fail. And the worst thing about this is that your world is aware of it. But they can do nothing to stop themselves. To our world, your planet is barbaric."

Professor Quirrell noted the hurt look in Harry's eyes. He had shredded the young man's view of his home world and left him little. "Lord Henry, please understand this. In some ways your world is a vision of our future. We are grateful for the forewarning. But in other ways it is the result of making a different choice. The democracies in your world accelerated progress. That in itself was a good thing, but they failed to spread wisdom with it. Your world grew up too fast. But its people are resourceful in ways we have not thought of. They may escape the traps they have set for themselves. I pray to God that they do."

"Amen," Harry said automatically. "Professor, the Duke of Cambridge told me what the Empire plans to do. You do not have to call me a lord anymore."

"A fool is a fool is a fool," Professor Quirrell said, then quickly added, "I mean myself, My Lord. I am berating your former world and you are convinced that you have to stay there. And you would do so willingly if your brothers were there instead of here."

"I DON'T have a choice," Harry said emphatically.

"You do, My Lord Henry de Somerset. You only have to remind His August Majesty of his promise."

"I know of his promise," Harry snarled, "but he only has to help until it is time to leave. There are more important things. The Empire will not risk defying the prophecy." His look softened. "But thank you for trying to give me hope."

"Hope is the eternal truth, My Lord. It does not die until the last breath. Might I make a suggestion? For when you return?"

"What is it?"

"Retain your rank. As long as you insist on being part of the Empire, the Empire must acknowledge you. The Plantagenets have never deserted their own."

Harry shared the Professor's grim smile. "I will, Professor."

"And I promise that I will try my best to find a way for you to stay with your family."