A/N: Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter.
When Harry reopened his eyes, he found himself stepping out of a portal-like device. The device was in a rather plain-looking stone room, with only the portal upon a raised dais.
It took a moment for him to get his bearings, but he heard the sounds of words and incantations being thrown around. Deciding to go investigate, he made his way out of the room. His heavy mech made it clear in no uncertain terms that a pilot had just arrived.
Down the hall, he spotted a shower of multicolored lights coming from a room at the end of the hall. Making his way to the unknown room, he looked in and spotted three men and women wearing what seemed to be normal attire being harried on all sides by six individuals wearing masks and cloaks.
They were flinging spells at one another from out of little sticks. Harry assumed they must have been wands. They were not unheard of, especially in Cygnar, but they were used by only those who weren't magically powerful enough to become a mech pilot and those who had the funds to commission one.
At least the universe makes it easy for me to differentiate between those who are cultists and those who aren't, he thought sardonically, aiming at the tallest of the robed cultists. He let loose a quick burst from his chaingun, leaving only a smear of red where the man's head used to be.
He knew instinctively these cultists would break easily enough. Even in the brief moment, he saw them fight before getting involved, they fought as individuals rather than as a team. Adding a multi-ton mech into the mix did little to help matters.
He watch as a sickly green light splattered harmlessly across his armored torso, this time shot from the robed cultist closest to him. Deciding that using the chaingun while the target stood this close to him was a waste of ammunition he sliced his sword in a downward arc, neatly bisecting the offending cultist.
They stood there stock still for a moment before each side of the now bisected corpse fell to either side.
Twirling quickly, he was able to decapitate another cultist before everyone else began to act. Seeing the odds evening out, he went on the offensive. His movements were like a master ballet dancer as he swerved, ducked, and generally moved out of the way of the nastier-looking spells.
Harry let the minor ones bounce harmlessly off his armor. Within about 10 seconds all the cultists lay dead on the floor. One of the men tried to say something unintelligible to him.
Shaking his head, he started down the hall when the same man said something else and made the hand gesture follow.
Deciding this strange man knew this location better than he did, he began following behind. They quickly came to another room. This one was filled with globes, most of them black, like their power was off, or rather unimportant.
But the few that were still lit shone like beacons in the darkened room. There was another group of cultists that were moving silently towards where two people were talking. One was the leader of the cultists, given his now familiar robe, but the lack of a mask gave away his obvious importance.
The other was a woman who had red hair down to the small of her back. He couldn't catch any other details other than she seemed rather skilled with her wand, though the cultist leader was stronger. Still, he could see her begin to flag under the amount and power of the spells.
Hoping and praying that this woman could hold out for a few more minutes, he thought it was the best tactical decision to take out the second group before they could help reinforce the cultist leader. He ran forward, easily overtaking his erstwhile companions and allowing them to reinforce the woman who was now locked in a bitter duel with the cultist leader.
They seemed to have a personal relationship of some kind, he could see it by the desperation with which this woman fought. Putting it out of his mind, he stopped in front of the group of masked cultists, one of them tried to say something that could not understand. He remained still, his massive eight-foot sword held loosely at his side, waiting for his opponents to make the next move.
The lead cultist said something else angrier this time before a red spell lept off his wand and splashed harmlessly against his spell-hardened armor. Deciding that was provocation enough he raised his chain gun and cut all 4 in half with a simple thought.
Looking back at the woman, he saw her take a backseat to an old man who was able to hold his own against the cultist leader. His long beard was tied into his belt, which sat upon extremely garish purple and blue robes.
He watched impassively as the two men fought, where the cultist leader used his wand with short sharp stabs, always having a spell launched at the old man. The old man used his like a conductor's baton, large sweeps, each sweep taking large pieces of both rubble and conjured materials and transfiguring them into different animals, each intercepting a spell, and when he saw an opening he would slip a spell in there forcing the cultist leader to take a step back.
The cultist wasn't without tricks himself. He would alternate between slow and fast-moving spells making it very hard to predict what spell he was to use next. It was a devious strategy but the old man held the slightest edge.
Soon the cultist took a look around and decided to cut his losses, and yelled something to the remainder of his people, they all almost simultaneously turned and with a crack disappeared.
The old man looked at harry and said something unintelligible. Not seeing a spark of recognition, the man beckoned him to follow. Curious, he decided to follow the man back down the hallway to a room a little further back from where he entered.
Upon entering he saw what seemed to be a bunch of amulets. The old man seemed to think for a moment before grabbing one at random.
He mimed putting it on and held it out to Harry who popped the hatch on his mech and climbed down the floor. He heard gasps from those that followed the pair to the room.
Putting the amulet on, he saw the old man smile and heard him say, "Hello, my name is Albus Dumbledore. I'm sure the Ministry won't mind us borrowing this for the time being," he said with a twinkle in his eye.
Harry shrunk back in surprise.
"What, how? How is this possible?" he asked.
"Magic," came the reply
"Mind magics?" he asked horrified.
Mind magics were considered among the most forbidden of magics, punishable by immediate execution. Anyone caught using mind magics, the idea of identity and the sanctity of one's thought was paramount to everyone in his world, Even The Cult would not sink that low.
"No my dear boy, merely a translation charm, a permanent one, yes, but a simple translation charm is all."
"Simple," scoffed a dark-skinned man. "Albus you know as well as I do that that was six months of work to create the damn thing. It was anything but simple."
"Quite right you are, Kingsley, quite right," Albus said.
"Now my boy," he said, turning his attention back to Harry, "if you don't mind me asking, who are you and how did you get here?"
Harry stood tall and looked at the man right in his twinkling blue eyes. Then he said "I am Harry Getthen. I originally hail from the republic of Makavia but claim no nation any longer. I go where I am called."
Dumbledore looked deeply into his eyes, and Harry felt a slight jolt as his mind fortress activated keeping the intruder out. He ripped his eyes away from this man and growled in disgust.
"What is it that you think you are doing old man?" he spat trying to keep himself from ripping this man limb from limb.
The old man, Albus Dumbledore, looked properly chastened.
"Forgive me, old habits die hard," he said by way of apology.
"You make it a habit of poking around in other people's heads?" Harry asked icily, "Do you have no respect for the sanctity of others' thoughts, old man? Do not try to do so again."
Dumbledore visibly paled at the tongue lashing he received. The woman whom Harry had seen fighting the cultist leader earlier walked up and whispered angrily in his ear. Harry thought he overheard the word Legilimency mentioned more than once.
Looking at her closer she looked familiar. Odd. This was his first few moments in this place, but there was something vaguely familiar about the woman.
Then a long forgotten memory from before he could consciously remember cropped up.
It was him being wrapped warmly in a blanket being gently rocked by a woman with dark red hair. Before he could stop himself, he gently cupped her cheek and gently lifted her face to meet his.
What he saw looking back at him were very familiar emerald eyes. He felt his breath catch in his chest.
Lily stormed up to Albus and said in a low voice, "Really, Albus? You saw how he reacted when he thought that the amulet was 'mind magics.' And then immediately decided that trying Legilimency on the poor man was a good idea?"
She breathed out angrily and then continued.
"Bloody hell, Albus, it's quite frankly a miracle that we're still alive. You saw how easily he dispatched all those Death Eaters! And you decide it's a good idea to go and antagonize the poor man!"
She shook her head in disappointment and disbelief and left Albus to continue conversing with the man.
Looking at him closer, there was something about him that niggled at the back of her mind. It was like she knew this man or something. Something about him seemed familiar.
Before she could ponder on it too much, she saw him take a few quick steps forward and lift her face towards his own. She felt the breath catch in her throat as she saw something that was impossible.
She was looking into eyes that were mirror images of hers. The vivid green, almond-shaped eyes were an unmistakable family trait. As far as she knew the Evanses were the only family to have such distinctive eyes.
The story went that Lily's great-great-great-grandfather had met a beautiful woman who had dark red hair and the brightest green eyes anyone had ever seen. He had fallen head over heels in love with this woman and vowed to do whatever was required to win her over.
This part was more family lore than anything factual - he completed labors equal to that of Hercules. Upon completion of those labors, they fell in love and had many children.
Only the eldest son inherited those green eyes, and often it would skip a generation. But as far as she knew, only those who with Evans blood running through their veins had those eyes.
"H-H-Harry?" she managed to squeak out, "is - is that you?'
She felt her view constrict as she slowly fainted into nothingness.
The next thing she knew, she was lying on the couch in the sitting room of Potter Manor, a cold compress on her head, while the buzz of conversation came into focus around her.
"-I'm telling you he's dangerous," Remus said softly.
"Of course, he's dangerous, what's your point?" Mad-Eye replied
"My point is, did you see what he did to those Death Eaters? He slaughtered them, with no remorse!"
"And good riddance to them too in my opinion. Or did you forget what they did to the Longbottoms and the McKinnons?'
"But slaughter!" Remus waved his hands around in a vague do-something pattern, "Slaughter, Mad-Eye, at sixteen! Six-fucking-teen!"
Lily began sitting up when Albus Dumbledore walked into the room.
Upon seeing Lily sitting up he cleared his throat and said, "Now that we're all here, I think it's time to retire to the dining room where we can get some questions answered."
The group made their way toward the dining room.
Looking around, she saw the Order of the Phoenix sitting down at the long table only used for Order meetings.
"Lily, would you be so kind as to fetch Harry?" Dumbledore asked. "Last I knew, he was outside working on his wonderful little contraption outside."
She walked outside only to see Harry shirtless, scars crisscrossing his back and what she could only imagine were the nasty scars of healed gunshot wounds.
It was all she could do to not run to him and wrap him in a blanket and keep him safe from the world.
"Harry?" she asked, nervous.
He turned and spotted her.
"Oh, good, you are awake," he said simply, before turning back to his giant robot thing.
She took a deep breath and tried again.
"Harry," she said, this time stronger. "What happened to you?"
He looked confused for a moment.
"What happened to me?" he repeated slowly as if not understanding the question. Then his eyes lit up in understanding as he saw her looking at his scars.
"War," he stated simply.
"War! War?! What country sends sixteen-year-olds to fight in wars?" she raged.
"I graduated academy at thirteen," he said with a hint of pride in his voice. "I was a full-fledged pilot and veteran of two campaigns by that time."
Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor she let the matter drop.
He turned back towards his monstrosity and began fiddling with it again. They stood in silence for a few more minutes before curiosity got the better of her.
"What exactly are you doing?" she asked, with no small amount of trepidation in her voice.
He answered like a man who had answered the exact question multiple times in the last little bit, more rote than actually thinking about the answer.
"I am cleaning and checking my mech to make sure there are no problems either imminent or things that could become problems later down the line. A pilot without his mech is no pilot at all."
They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Harry occasionally tightened a screw, gently rubbing his hand on a spot before he looked at the thing, his mech, with a satisfied look.
Interrupting again, Lily said, "they're all waiting for you inside. There are some things we need to discuss."
A/N: thank you to ChiaroscuroGirl for her beta work