Prologue

October 31st, 1981

A snowy owl as white as the freshly fallen specks of winter sat still on the rickety windowsill of Residence 126, Fifth Lane Avenue, San Angeles, Angel Grove. It sat so still that passersby, in all probability, wouldn't even notice the bird at first glance on the milky siding. In fact, if it wasn't for the juxtapositioning of the owl's golden brown accents and green eyes, the creature would've disappeared absolutely.

The owl sat on the windowsill for hours on end without moving even a feather. It didn't move when a heavy downpour began. It didn't move when a nearby neighbor in a lab coat stood on the street in front of it, and simply stared. It didn't even move when a repulsive, chubby man pulled up and stormed out of his car, shaking the house to its core as he slammed the front door. The owl just sat there until night - waiting.

The street lights suddenly went out on Fifth Lane Avenue, leaving only the shining moon as a guide.

The owl moved.

It flew around the dark square aimlessly, until it narrowed its sight to one specific area. The creature swiftly landed on the ground, and mere meters away, a pale man appeared facing the shadowed house. He appeared so suddenly that time couldn't catch him. The man wore a sleeved and wool robe, billowing with length. On both wrists, he had golden cuffs, and below them were wrinkled hands from age that appeared also on the bottom of his shaved chin to the tip of his bald head.

The man turned his head and zeroed his eyes on the owl. He let out a laugh.

"Can't say I am surprised to see you." The smiling man turned to face the owl, but it wasn't an owl anymore. Gone was the white as snow animal. Instead stood a solemn and tough-looking woman with viridescent eyes. She wore an emerald cloak that did nothing to cover the nude legs under it. Her gold curly hair glowed with the moonlight. In her left hand stood a long wooden staff. She looked as if she hadn't just spent part of her day as an owl.

"There is nothing one can keep from you, Zordon," said the woman as she rolled her stiff shoulders back.

"If it's any consolation, my dear Dulcea, I've never quite seen an owl with your particular likeness, or your solemnity, I might add."

"What is there not to be solemn about, when every magical soul in this country is admitting just that; that they're magical," Dulcea huffed irritably. "The No-Maj-Worthy Excuse Committee is going to have a field day with this. It's all over the no-maj telly."

"Now, now, Dulcea, they are just celebrating the defeat of the darkest wizard of this generation. You would do well to join them."

Dulcea chose to ignore that last statement. "Do you truly believe he's gone, Zordon?"

"Alas, that is what it seems to be," Zordon said softly. "We can only thank our higher-ups, but now my dear, would you like to see the Egyptian coin I've recently collected?"

"The what?"

"My Egyptian coin. I believe it's called a Piastre. So?" He offered the metal object.

"I'm good, thank you." Dulcea shook her head, not at all surprised with his calm exterior despite the situation. "Now then, since You-Know-Who is gone-"

"Dulcea, I thought you of all people wouldn't be afraid to say the name. A simple identification such as Zedd shouldn't be the source of all fear," said Zordon while he flipped around his coin.

"I am not afraid to say Zedd. It's a habit."

"An unnecessary one I'd say. It is just a name."

Dulcea scoffed. "Says the only person he was afraid of."

"You should know by now that flattery doesn't work on me, my dear," Zordon quipped, eyes twinkling as he chuckled lightly. Dulcea huffed again, frowning her face.

"Zordon," she said, "Do you truly believe what everyone is saying? About his vanquish?" Dulcea didn't want to believe the rumors until confirmed by the man who knew all.

"They are saying that," Dulcea pressed on, "last night Zedd went to Reefside, to find the Olivers. People are… are saying that Marina and John, they're dead."

Zordon just closed his eyes, and Dulcea shook her head in disbelief as she looked on.

"Tell me it is not true, Zordon. Marina and John… no."

"It's true my dear," said Zordon placing a hand on hers.

Dulcea sniffed away her tears as she continued. "And what they're saying about the boy and Zedd?"

Zordon nodded. "After all of his despicable acts, Zedd couldn't even kill a little baby boy. No one will ever know how the littlest Oliver survived." He gazed at the moon. "Dear me, Ernie is late."

Dulcea raised her brow in bewilderment, eyes joining his gaze. "And what's the purpose of his arrival?"

"We're bringing little Thomas to the only family he has left."

"Zordon, that's preposterous!" Dulcea immediately exclaimed, knowing instantly who his 'only family' was. She stomped her staff to the ground as she declared, "Thomas Oliver cannot live here with these animals. I've watched them all day. These people are horrible I tell you!"

"This is the best place for him," Zordon said in a settled tone. "And I've written them a letter."

"You can't be serious!" Dulcea cried. "He's about to be the most famous boy in history, and you're placing him with foul no-majs. Do you desire him to grow up with their values?"

Zordon faltered only for a second at her words. "It's already finalized," he sighed, "And alas, here comes Ernie."

Zordon pointed towards a tiny speck in the sky that was steadily increasing in size as loud rumbling filled the air. A huge motorcycle fell out of the sky, landing in front of them. On top of it sat a giant man, his face smooth and innocent, topped with brown hair, and rosy cheeks from the biting cold air. In his arms, laid a small bundle of blankets. "Ernie... you're here at last," Zordon said, wavering as his eyes landed on the roaring vehicle. "May I ask where you got that motorcycle?"

"Of course, sir," Ernie grimly smiled. "David Trueheart lent her to me. Gave me a hard time, that one did. Wanted to keep the boy all for himself, but I told him I was under direct orders from Zordon himself."

"Good, good." Zordon and Dulcea both leaned over the bundle. They peered down intensively at the brown-haired baby boy.

"That's where he-?"

"Yes," said Zordon.

They were staring at the boy's forehead that still dripped with its body's substance. Dulcea slowly reached out towards him and gently brushed his abnormally long bangs back. "Oh my," gasped Dulcea, and Zordon grimly waved a healing hand over Thomas' head.

"I'm afraid he will have that scar for life," he sighed as they gazed at the newly fresh cut in the shape of the letter, K. "It's best that we go ahead and get this over with."

Dulcea quickly took Thomas in her arms and placed him in Zordon's. Ernie came over and laid a gentle hand on the boy's face. "Goodbye there, Tommy," Ernie let out a small sniffle. He wiped his eyes.

"Tommy?" Dulcea implored the sad man as Zordon departed with the bundle and headed towards Residence 126 of Fifth Lane Avenue. She patted Ernie's arm comfortingly.

"That's what… Marina and John called him. And David," Ernie cried, and Dulcea held the huge man's hand as Zordon laid Thomas gingerly on the doorstep. The old wizard held a hand out and an envelope appeared. Zordon neatly tucked it inside the blankets before he came back to the other two. They all stared solemnly at the bundle.

"Well," said Zordon, heaving a great sigh, "now that that's over, how about we go and enjoy the celebrations?"

"Yes, I shall be taking David his bike back," Ernie sniffed, hopping on the motorcycle and causing a slight tremor to run through the ground. If any of them noticed, they heeded it with no attention. Ernie kicked the engine to life and was off quicker than you could say the word 'Potter'.

"I shall see you soon, Dulcea," Zordon said then, and with a swish of his heel, he was gone. All of the street lamps flared back to life with sudden intensity.

Dulcea blew out air from her nose and walked to the end of the road. She turned to stop and stare at the tiny speck in the starry sky. She then gazed at the bundle on the doorstep.

"Good luck my dear, Falcon," she murmured. "Good luck."

"Within seconds a snowy owl with brown accents could be seen flying in the distance. A cold wind blew through the quiet street of Fifth Lane Avenue. The road remained silent under the darkened sky. This was the last place commoners would expect the unnatural to happen.

"Thomas Oliver shifted his head to the side without waking up. He slept there peacefully, having no clue that he was special. Having no clue that he would be jerked awake at sunrise by his horrendous aunt, Scorpina Moury, as she opened the front door to gather the mail and screamed. He had no clue that at this exact moment, people meeting in secret all over Angel Grove were holding up their glasses and cheering the name, "Thomas Oliver - the Only Survivor!"

Hi guys, I'm Gwynn J. As you have probably deduced already, this is my new story about Power Rangers imagined in the Harry Potter world. This is more so a based-on story instead of a rewrite. Expect to see heavy elements of Harry Potter and heavy elements of Power Rangers, a mash-up of sorts with PR characters, and some HP language/locations. Hope you enjoy it.

Thanks,

Gwynn J.