The Boneyard

by Clell65619

The resting place of stories that started out strong before the muse that was driving them took off for parts unknown. All of these are up for adoption, if they appeal to you, and you think you can make them work, have at it. Let me know when you publish, so I can see how they look when they grow up.

23. Hero

Harry Potter: Hero

Book One: Student

CHAPTER ONE

Discovery and Preparation

"I'm sorry for the interruption everyone," The Prime Minister said taking her seat at the conference table. "When Her Majesty calls, one answers, especially when she wishes to express her opinion on this very topic. Mr. Clough? If you would continue?"

"Yes, Prime Minister," a man stood from his seat and stood next to the video display, which lit up and displayed the image of a small dark-haired boy wearing too large clothing and obviously repaired spectacles and refusing to look into the camera. "This is Harry James Potter; currently seven years old and a student at the Little Whinging Primary school. He is quite likely the most powerful broad spectrum Metahuman born in the United Kingdom in seventy-four years."

"It's about time," the second woman in the room said quietly, though her voice easily carried throughout the room. "I was wondering if I would ever manage to retire."

"Yes, you will be happy to know Lady Britannia, that if our evaluations are correct, young Mr. Potter has the potential of becoming as powerful as you once he reaches his maturity. Mr. Potter was spotted by a retired operative from the Centurion project who is now working as a school nurse at Mr. Potter's primary school. He has been involved in several accidental incidents that caught her attention."

The image changed from the boy to a picture of an older woman with turquois blue hair. "This is Mavis Carrs, Mr. Potter's teacher from last year. Immediately prior to a session when she scolded Mr. Potter in class she had been a blonde. It was during the scolding her hair took on its current color. All of her body hair has been affected, not just that on her head. It is not dyed, nor has it simply changed color. It refuses to accept a new color via a dye, and it grows out blue again if the hair is cut," The man removed his glasses and looked up from his notes. "It appears that her DNA has been reconfigured to have her hair be blue."

There were several seconds of shocked silence in the room. The image changed to a moving video of the young boy running as if the hounds of hell were chasing him. "Once Mr. Potter became a person of interest we took steps to monitor him. This took place two months following the blue hair incident. Mr. Potter was being chased by his cousin's gang."

The image changed to another view of the boy running away with several boys chasing him. Multiple cameras followed the chase until the small boy was cornered by the group. "Now, this is where it gets interesting," Clough said as the largest of the pursuers finally waddled up to the group and made to pummel the smaller cowering boy.

And the boy vanished. The other boys immediately began looking about in panic.

"Bloody Hell!" the Prime Minister gasped, her eyes instantly seeking out Lady Britannia, who shrugged.

"It doesn't seem to be invisibility," she noted as the largest of the boys was seen on the screen waving his arms stupidly in the space that Harry Potter had been occupying. I've never seen anything like that myself," the ancient heroine continued, "but I've heard of it. The Yanks and the Russians have a few Metas who can do that, they call it teleportation. The furthest I've heard anyone being able to do it is seven miles. "Where did you find the boy?"

"He was located two hours later two hundred yards away, on top of the three-story school building, with the only access still locked from the inside," Clough answered. "He claims to have no idea how he did it, even in the face of his uncle's punishments, and we believe him."

"It was like that for me as well," Lady Britannia said, "I was doing odd things all the time and no one could tell me what was happening. My parents believed I was possessed, and were horribly cruel by today's standards trying to drive it out of me. You said his 'uncle's' punishments? What of the boy's parents?"

"Yes. The boy is an orphan. His mother was one Lily Evans," the picture on the screen changed to that of a slightly older redheaded girl wearing what appeared to be an outdated school uniform. "Who apparently quit school at the age of 12; this is the most recent photograph we've been able to find. Her quitting school is perplexing as she had been an exemplary student with no disciplinary history prior to this, nor did she have any encounters with law enforcement after leaving school. She basically seemed to vanish, but no one noticed. At some point in the late 70s she reportedly married a Welshman named James Potter, of whom we have no records at all, no birth records, no school records, no marriage records, no files with Inland Revenue, nothing. According to young Harry Potter's guardianship records his parents died in some unexplained way on Halloween 1981, leaving Harry in the care of his maternal aunt Petunia Dursley, nee Evans. She is a homemaker and has been since she married." The image on the screen changed to a very thin woman with a longer than average neck.

"The mother of the cousin you mentioned as chasing the boy?" the uniformed General asked.

"Quite. The boy has been living with his maternal Aunt's family since the age of fifteen months. They are evidently not treating him very well, this is his uncle, Vernon Dursley," the picture changed to that of a morbidly obese man with short cropped hair and a walrus mustache. "Mr. Dursley is the Managing Director for Sales for Grunning's Drills, and has been with the company since he left school in 1977."

"This is where the tale gets very interesting; there appear to be records of multiple instances of reports to Child Welfare concerning the Potter boy. I say that there appears to be records because none of the case workers can recall ever hearing of the Dursley family. None of the Supervisors remember assigning the cases, and there is no paperwork associated with the Dursley's in any of the files. Every time someone gets too close to that family concerning the Potter boy, they have all memories of dealing with the incident removed, and all paperwork also goes missing."

"Then how do you know about it?" the Prime Minister asked. "And why do you believe this to be an aspect of the boy's Meta-talents?"

"Whatever is happening doesn't seem to affect Computer records," Clough answered. "We believe this to be another manifestation of his Meta Powers brought about by the punishments the boy endures immediately following any home visit of any kind. As soon as we focused on the Potter boy as a probable Meta we secreted monitoring equipment in the Dursley home. What goes on in there has some of the most hardened operatives I have at my disposal wanting to commit murder."

"So," the General said, "we have instances of manipulation of human DNA, teleportation, and mind control. Anything else?"

"The boy is at very least a self-healer," Clough said. "Our contact who is acting as the school nurse reports that he shows signs of severe injuries that heal in extraordinarily short periods of time." Images of a young damage body flashed on the screen, followed by photos of the same body seemingly uninjured only hours later according to the time stamp in the lower left-hand corner of each image.

Again, silence filled the room as the implications of 'severe injuries' sunk in.

"I've heard enough," the Prime Minister said. "I want him picked up now. Today. Before those bastards manage to create a villain we'll need to deal with later. We're going to need to get him trained as soon as possible, and we need to see to his socialization. We need Heroes who can deal with the general public without the disasters that the Centurion leaves in his wake whenever he ventures out from his ready-room."

"Agreed," Lady Britannia said. "However, I am not the one to train him. My failures with the Centurion have pointed my inadequacies in that field."

"And the Centurion himself is not to be trusted with a young boy, for obvious reasons." Clough agreed. "None of the other Metas currently operating in the United Kingdom have the breadth of powers that our young Mr. Potter is displaying and as a consequence I hesitate to suggest that he be placed with any of them." He manipulated some controls on the podium beside him. "I have contacted my counterpart in the United States; they may have a solution to the problem of training Mr. Potter to use his abilities responsibly."

The attention of the assembled officials once again focused on the video display, the screen shimmered to a fuzzy static for a moment, and then focused into an image of a sheet of stone inscribed with the legend 'PS238'. A voiceover artist famous throughout the English-speaking world for his 'In a world' motion picture previews began speaking.

"This is a special broadcast being carried on all Metahuman media channels. This includes JUSTICENET, the MIGHT-FORCE emergency channels, The CHAMPION-SAT feed, and an ULTRA-HIGH FREQUENCY that can be sensed only by Dolphins, Basset Hounds, and three individuals who favor capes as fashion accessories."

The image of the stone edifice faded to show a well-dressed smiling young woman who took over the commentary.

"Hello, Heroes and Specially Gifted Citizens! As many other typically career minded people have done, some of you have started families. Raising a child is work enough for any person, but a child with heat vision will tax the capabilities of even someone who can outrun a train!"

"But now there is help! Today we're proud to announce the opening of PS238, the School for Metaprodigy Children!"

"Located three miles beneath the fully accredited Excelsior Public School, PS238 offers access to a normal curriculum coupled with courses custom tailored to the child with Metahuman, Alph-Technological, or Supernatural abilities."

"At PS238, your specially-abled child will be able to fully explore their powers and talent in a State-of-the-art facility surrounded by their peers and overseen by top professionals."

The woman faded from sight and her image was replaced by pictures of children in strange costumes doing amazing things. "Prodigies," the woman continued, "as we call our students, have their talents carefully measured, tested, and practiced to maximize their control and usability. Creative thinking and initiative are greatly encouraged. The faculty and staff are always ready to listen to your concerns and answer your questions. Many of them have had 'in the field' experiences of their own, and can empathize with your hectic schedules and job stress."

"While we are federally funded, we do not require the revealing of a 'Secret Identity' to anyone outside of the employees of the facility. However full disclosure gains access to scholarships, grants and placement assistance with over a hundred and twenty 'Super Teams' across America. Speaking of 'Secret Identities', your child will be required to keep one! As he or she interacts with the students of Excelsior, they are to never reveal the existence of their Underground Academy, or the fact that they possess talents and abilities far beyond those of mortal men."

"This and so much more will enable your child to smoothly transition into the future they choose, be it in the Service of Humanity or in the Private Sector."

The image of Superhero children faded to be replaced by the inscribed stone. "So, enroll your child today at PS238! Remember, with Great Power comes the Great Responsibility to give your children a well-rounded education what maximizes their talents while minimizing property damage. We'll see you on the first day of school!"

The video ended. There was a short pause and then the General's distinctive voice broke the silence. "Bloody Yanks."

"You are referring to our closest ally General," the Prime Minister sniffed. "Our closest ally who seems to feel the need to make an over complicated production out of nearly everything, but our closest ally none the less."

The room went quiet for several moments as the Prime Minister contemplated her options. "The American plan seems to be our best option both in getting the boy trained in his powers and socializing him so that he's less likely to go rogue on us, but I'm concerned about the possibility of losing the boy to the Americans."

"I'm sure that arrangements can be made to ensure young Mr. Potter remembers who he is and where he is from. Regular visits from the Embassy for example, and he could spend his holidays with Lady Britannia to emphasize his responsibilities," Clough suggested.

"I believe I would be open to that," the heroine said. "I cannot emphasize enough that the child should never be left alone in the company of the Centurion. Bradley is a more than adequate in a fight, but he gives into his baser urges far too easily."

The Prime Minister nodded. "It's decided then. I shall be calling the American President this evening, and will negotiate access to his training school. Pick the boy up now. If the uncle interferes…" the woman hesitated for a moment as if searching for the appropriate words, "Make sure you leave enough for the constables to put away for a very long time."

-oooOOOooo-

Harry was shocked by the sounds he was hearing. Harry had been locked in his cupboard without dinner because Dudley had thrown his drinking glass at Harry and Harry had failed to catch it and the glass broke. That meant punishment, and after the hurting banishment to his cupboard for the second night in a row without dinner.

Inside the cupboard Harry had shaken with silent tears. Making noise was a good way to get a second helping of Vernon's punishment. Once his pain subsided enough Harry silently reached for his stash.

It had been a week since he had managed to steal anything to rebuild his small collection of edibles, and it showed in the quality and quantity of its meager offerings. With a sigh Harry had brushed the mold off the bread as best he could, and allowed himself a single mouthful of the half bottle of flat lemonade that Dudley had left on the side table the week before.

Harry was long past wondering why his life was like this, and even further past wishing for someone to come and take him away from the Dursleys. This was his life. This was just how it was.

Harry had finished with the bread and was contemplating another mouthful of the lemonade when there was a knock at the door. Harry immediately moved to the corner of the cupboard furthest from the door and lay curled in a ball, trying not to move. A noise from the cupboard when someone was visiting would ensure Uncle Vernon's highest level of punishment, and Harry didn't want that.

Harry heard Uncle Vernon answer the door, and then the buzz of conversation, too low for him to make out the words. Then Vernon blurted out 'Freaks!"

That word alone told Harry that the conversation was about him. He searched his memory for anything he might have done to warrant someone visiting the Dursleys, and couldn't think of a thing. He hadn't left the property of #4 Privet Drive since school let out. Not that it mattered, punishment was in his future.

Following Uncle Vernon's exclamation, there had been a lot of shouting. Not that shouting was an unusual thing when Vernon Dursley became angry, but it seemed that whoever the visitor was, he was the one doing most of the shouting.

Harry heard a sudden thump that seemed to shake the entire cupboard, followed by Aunt Petunia's shriek. Then the door to his cupboard opened and a man Harry had never seen before looked in.

"Harry?"

-oooOOOooo-

He had been taken to a really big building surrounded by a tall wire mesh fence with coils of more wire at the top and the grounds were patrolled by armed men.

At first Harry had been terrified that he had been taken to a prison, just like Uncle Vernon always said that he would be due to his freakishness.

The place where he stayed was much nicer than he imagined a prison to be, which surprised him before he figured out that this wasn't a prison, really. He had his own room, with a real bed and a wardrobe for the nice new clothes that the people provided for him. There had even been a telly up on the wall, with a remote control on the bed side table! He could watch it any time he wanted. He fell asleep wondering if this was all a dream.

The next day they took him to people in white that turned out to be doctors. They took blood from both of his arms, and had him lay on a moving table that slid into a big round machine that hummed. Then the boss Doctor, tall bearded bald man with dark skin named Singh told him how brave he was for not crying and gave him some candy. Harry ate one piece and stowed the rest in his pockets for later. By the time the day was over Harry was exhausted, and was asleep as soon as he entered his room.

The following day, Harry met with lots and lots of people who wanted him to 'show what he could do'. This confused him. He tried to explain that odd things just happened around him and that he didn't mean to be a freak and that he tried really hard to be good, but sometimes…

Harry's stress built steadily as he became more certain that his failure to show them what they wanted to see would result in punishment. His fear of the coming pain caused his stress levels to spike and the drinking glasses on the table around which his questioners sat, shattered, splattering everyone with the various liquids that the glasses had contained.

Knowing what was coming; Harry threw himself to the floor and curled into as tight a ball as he could manage the better to get through the hurting that came whenever his freakishness came out.

But no hurting came. Doctor Singh knelt at Harry's side. "Are you alright Harry? Did doing that hurt?" he asked.

Harry tried to explain to Dr. Singh that no, he wasn't hurt, just that he was afraid of the punishment for being a freak. The bearded man gently helped Harry back to his chair.

"No one is going to be hurting you any more Harry, we're just trying to understand how you do what you do," he said before smiling and patting his bald head. "We've heard of what happened with your teacher last year," he said with a smile patting his bald pate, "I was hoping that you might do your hair thing on me… Even blue hair would be better than no hair."

The adults all laughed, and Harry pretended to get the joke, though he really didn't. After a few more questions and after Harry somehow managed to have a coloring book fly to his hand from across the room surprising and delighting the four men (and again shocking Harry when no punishment appeared) they broke for lunch.

There was so much food. More than Harry had ever been allowed before. Harry ate sparingly, remembering what had happened the last time he had managed to get access to a large amount of food after a long period of not much. The pain in his stomach had caused a night of unending agony before the morning came and he was feeling better. There was no way he was going to risk that again. Still, he managed to sneak an apple and half a sandwich into a pocket 'for later'. It never hurt to be ready for when things went back to normal.

Brutal experience had taught Harry that good fortune rarely lasted very long.

Following lunch, Harry was encouraged to go play. It was explained to him that his mornings would be spent with the nice men in white, all of whom were Doctors, but not the kind that gave you jabs. His afternoons were his to do as he pleased. The only restriction was that he couldn't go outside the wire fence, because they said he was 'too young'.

It turned out that the armed men he had noticed when he arrived weren't prison guards; rather they were soldiers, all of whom seemed to be friendly when he dared to speak with them. When Harry woke in the morning he could look out the window and see them went running in groups and singing silly songs. Throughout the day groups of them would be walking together, holding guns. They seemed to think it was funny when he tried to walk like they did, and one of the soldiers, Sergeant Thomas, brought him an ice lolly once he was through walking around in his group.

Sergeant Thomas told Harry that he was like Harry, but not as powerful. Harry hadn't understood what Sergeant Thomas was talking about, but he nodded anyway. The Sergeant went on to tell Harry how most of the soldiers here were 'low level Medas', and that they were proud to protect the next generation of heroes and maybe pass on a little of what they learned.

Harry had no idea what a 'Meda' was, or how one could have levels, but he enjoyed his time with the soldiers. They let him eat dinner in the big room they called their 'mess' even though it was very clean and after dinner they played games with him in their 'ready room' before they walked him back to his room in the big building, kidding that he would have to grow a bit before he could do their kind of walking, which they called 'marching', properly.

Harry lay in his comfortable bed that night unable to sleep, so excited by what he had learned. Freaks could be soldiers. When he got big he could be a soldier.

This flew in the face of what Uncle Vernon had told him all his life. He wasn't doomed to be the drunken waste that his father had been or be sent to prison. He could be a soldier; he could help people and save young freaks from mean people. Like Uncle Vernon.

Harry's last thought before sleep claimed him was that someday he would wear an impressive uniform like Sergeant Thomas and he would go see Uncle Vernon to show him just how wrong he was about freaks.

-oooOOOooo-

The low light camera clearly displayed the boy enter REM sleep. The evaluation team sat back and began reviewing their notes.

"Well Jacob?" Harbir Singh asked quietly from his place at the head of the table. "What do you think of young Mr. Potter?"

Lt Colonel Jacob Marley Thomas, Royal Army Medical Corps leaned back in his chair. "Harry is a very sweet, very damaged young man Herbie. Those monsters he lived with tried to break him, but somehow he managed to stay somewhat sane." He frowned for a moment, and then continued. "Please tell me that his Uncle has been arrested. It's going to be hard keeping the boys in the guard detachment from going to Little Whinging for a... visit."

"From what I understand, the Uncle is currently a guest of her Majesty. Let the men know that if he gets out, they will have to get in line behind me. So, is Harry a suitable candidate to replace the Centurion?"

"I don't know," the Psychiatrist said hesitantly. "All of this is so new to him, the limited freedom he's allowed on the facility is far more than he's ever known, but I believe that he is starting to discover the possibilities that his life holds for him. He was shocked when I told him that the troops here were all low level Metas. His uncle had told him for as long as he could remember that his 'freakishness' would have him ending up in prison or a drunken wastrel like his father. Has anyone found anything on James Potter yet? I would love to tell the boy that his Uncle lied to him about his father."

"No, nothing," Singh admitted. "Not even a photograph. It's like the man never existed."

"Damn. Well, his exposure to the troops has opened a world of possibilities to the boy. I'd wager that right now, Harry's dreaming about growing up and becoming a soldier, if for no other reason than to prove to his uncle that he was wrong."

"And being a soldier," Singh concluded, "isn't far off from what we want from him."

"No," Thomas agreed, "not far off at all. We've got three weeks to get him ready for the offer. The Prime Minister herself will be here to speak with the boy."

"How are the men reacting to you masquerading as a Sergeant?"

Thomas smiled, "surprisingly well. I've even heard a new joke over the last couple of days from the troops. It goes, 'If you want an overcomplicated plan, use a Lt. Colonel, if you want something to actually get done, use a Sergeant.'"

-oooOOOooo-

"Come in Harry," Dr. Singh said.

Harry stood in the doorway for a moment, and then entered the room. This couldn't possibly be good. They were going to send him back. He knew it had been too good to last, he was going back to the Dursleys and… and…

He wasn't going to cry. The last month had been… nice. He wasn't going to cry.

"Sit down Harry," Singh indicated the child sized chair at the child sized table. After Harry was seated, the Doctor continued. "I'm sure you recognize these ladies."

Harry shifted his attention to the two women seated at Dr. Singh's left. The older of the two seemed somehow familiar, but… "No sir, I'm sorry, I don't."

"My name is Margaret Thatcher, Mr. Potter." the older woman said quietly. "I am the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. Do you know what that means?"

"I... I..." Harry struggled to find the words. Nothing had prepared him for speaking with someone important like the Prime Minister. "My Uncle always likes what you do. Almost always. I've heard him talking at the telly."

"I think I could do without the support of someone like Vernon Dursley, Harry. I'm here because of you. Do you know why you're here?"

"Because I'm a freak." the boy said looking down to stare at his hands where they lay in his lap.

"Not a freak," the younger woman said. "Never a freak. A freak would be something bad, something defective. You aren't bad or defective Harry, you are special."

Harry looked up to meet the woman's gaze. "Special?"

"You have special abilities Harry, you can do things most other people can't," she rose from her chair to hover in midair. "I can too."

Harry's mouth opened in shock at the sight of the woman suspended in midair. "I can't do that."

"Not yet anyway," she said with a gentle smile. "I am known as Lady Britannia, you may have heard of me."

Harry's eyes went even wider. "You're a hero!"

"She is Harry, she is," the Prime Minister said. "She appears to be younger than me, but I grew up reading of her adventures. We of Her Majesty's government are always on the lookout for new heroes. We believe you may be one of the truly great ones when you grow up."

"Me?" the boy asked incredulously.

"Yes, you Harry. You are already doing things that are amazing. You have the potential to be so much more."

"Potential?" Harry asked, because he didn't know that word.

"You will be more than you are when you're older Harry," the Prime Minister said. "But before that can happen, you need to learn to use your abilities. There is a special school for you to go to with other children with special talents, like you."

"I have to leave?" Harry asked, his heart sinking. He had truly come to love this place with its soldiers and doctors and odd machines.

"You don't have to," Lady Britannia, "But it would allow you to become the young man you are supposed to be."

-oooOOOooo-

A somewhat dazed and very jet lagged Harry Potter stepped out of the plain white fifteen passenger van to stare hesitantly up at the Excelsior school. It looked very different than Little Whinging Primary. For some reason the name of the school surprised him. Wasn't it supposed to be a number or something?

"Hello, you must be Harry," a kind faced woman with shoulder length blond hair said as she knelt beside him.

"Yes Miss," He answered in the way he had been taught back at Little Whinging Primary.

"My, you're a polite one," the woman said with an easy smile. "My name is Miss Kyle, I'll be showing you around as soon as I finish speaking to the gentleman who brought you to us."

The woman rose to speak with the man who had accompanied Harry from the airport leaving the boy to look around. He was surprised at how... normal everything looked.

Harry had half expected to see people flying around and maybe super power battles like he had seen on the telly back in the soldier's mess. There were trees full of leaves just starting the color change of early autumn, and birds singing and everything. It was most definitely too hot for the suit he was wearing. He quite looked forward to taking the tie and jacket off.

He was glad that he wasn't wearing his new official uniform. Being made of leather the gloves and mask would be stifling. That thought brought him up short. Did this school have a uniform? He hadn't brought anything like that...

That was when Harry spotted the man sitting under the flagpole... He was dressed like a Red Indian, and appeared to be watching Harry with a deep interest.

The few times he had seen parts of Cowboy movies on the Telly the Red Indians were always mean and looking to hurt the Cowboys, but this man seemed... quiet.

"Hello," Harry said when he came with in a yard of the man.

The fact that Harry had spoken directly to him seemed to startle the man. "You can see me?"

That struck Harry as the oddest thing he had been asked in his entire life. "Yes sir. I can see you. Can't everyone?"

"No," The man said shaking his head. "No one has been able to see me for longer than I can remember, then a month ago, that young girl and the teacher with the tattoo over her right eye, and now you. Are you a new student here?"

"Yes sir. My name is Harry. I've been sent here to learn what I can."

"I have no name that I can recall young Harry. I am bound to this place until I make amends for the arrogance of my youth." The man dressed in buckskin shook his head. "Amazing the changes, just amazing. And now, a spirit walker..."

A spirit walker? Harry wondered what that meant. He was about to ask his next question when Miss Kyle's voice came from behind him.

"Harry, are you alright?"

Harry turned to find the woman looking at him oddly as the van drove away. This was it. He was actually going to this school. "Yes Miss, I'm fine."

"You appeared to be speaking with someone..." she noted.

"Yes Miss," Harry gestured toward the man. "I've met a red Indian man. He says that no one has seen him since a girl last month and a teacher with a tattoo. He's right here."

"She cannot see me Harry." the Indian said.

"I see..." Miss Kyle hesitated for a moment. "Well, say goodbye to your friend, we need to head inside."

"Yes Miss," Harry turned back to the man. "I have to go. You said that you didn't know your name, does that mean that you can't give yourself a new name now so that I can know what to call you when I speak to you?"

The man smiled, "That sounds like a plan that makes sense Harry. I am a bound spirit, you can call me Spirit."

Harry smiled. "OK Mr. Spirit. We can talk more next time."

-oooOOOooo-

Miss Kyle led Harry into the building - PS 238 is 3 miles below Excelsior school, elevator descent 10 minutes.

-oooOOOooo-

"And this will be your dorm," Miss Kyle said standing outside the door. She knocked lightly and after a short pause a blond boy approximately Harry's age opened the door.

"Good evening Tyler."

"Hi Miss Kyle," the boy responded.

"You're getting a roommate Tyler, this is Harry Potter, he's an exchange student from Great Britain. Harry this is Tyler Marlocke."

"Hi," the blond said to Harry.

"Tyler, it's almost curfew, could you show Harry around this weekend?"

"Sure," the boy nodded.

Cristina Kyle knelt down to look Harry in the eyes. "I know that all of this is likely to be a bit overwhelming. You've got the whole weekend to get used to things around here before class starts on Monday. Tyler knows how everything works around here, you couldn't have a better roommate, believe me. I live here at the school, as does most of the staff, if you need anything we will be available to you, Ok?"

"Yes Miss." Harry responded while wondering if he would ever find anything in this place.

"Ok Harry, you get unpacked, then try not to stay up too late. You look exhausted, you should probably try and get to sleep."

Tyler took hold of one of Harry's cases and lead the dark-haired boy into the dorm room. "That bed's mine," he said unnecessarily pointing to the unmade bed. "I figured I'd be getting a roomie when I got back and found the new bed set up."

Harry put his case on his new bed and opened it, then immediately began putting his things into the chest of drawers next to the empty desk that he assumed was also his to use.

Straddling the chair at his desk, Tyler crossed his arms over the back of the chair and lay his chin on his arms. "So..." he said hesitantly, "What do you do?"

Harry stopped with his arms full of partially folded underwear. "I..." he still wasn't used to the idea that he could speak to people about his freakishness. "I do things."

"What kind of things?"

"I can make things come to me, I can't really control it, but it happens. I've sort of moved from one place to another a couple of times. I turned one of my teacher's hair blue once, the doctors said some about me doing something to her cells. Sometimes, things just sort of break around me."

"Wow," Tyler said. "That's a lot of powers."

"Yeah," Harry looked down unable to meet the other boy's eyes. "I'm a freak."

"Not around here," Tyler laughed. "Around here you're going to be almost perfectly normal. I'm the freak here."

"Why," Harry asked. "What can you do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely nothing. No super powers, no magic, no super science armor, nothing." Tyler laughed bitterly.

"Oh," Harry was confused, wasn't this supposed to be a school for people with Meta powers? "Then... why are you here?"

"My parents are trying to kill me," Tyler said. Upon seeing Harry's horrified expression, he continued, "Oh, not like that, they love me and everything, it's just they're both really powerful Metas and they think my powers are just dormant and that I need to be in a life-threatening situation to bring them out."

"That's... that's... That's horrible!" Harry stuttered.

"No, that's my parents," Tyler sighed. "So, your dad and mom big heroes in England?"

"No. I don't remember them. They died when I was around one," Harry said returning to his unpacking. "My Uncle said that they were both drunks on the dole who died in a car crash, but it turned out that he lied about so much that I don't know what to believe."

"That sucks."

"No, that's my life," Harry said with his own grin. He opened the closet door to hang a few things up.

Tyler spotted the black leather outfit Harry was putting into the closet. "It that your uniform?"

"Yeah," he paused to show the British flag on the chest of the black outfit.

"Cool, better than mine anyway. What do you call yourself?"

"Well, first it was 'Britanic' until someone found out that there was a bloke using that in Blackpool, then it was Fury, but that's in use, by a lady in Glasgow, then they decided to try Spitfire, but some company holds a copyright for that name." Harry sighed.

"Wow, I've never heard of anyone having that much trouble coming up with a name."

"Yeah, they finally settled on 'Union Jack'. I don't know if anyone else is using it though, they were still checking when I left."

"And I thought I had it rough," Tyler laughed. He saw Harry yawn widely. "Miss Kyle was right, you look really tired. You'd best get to bed."

-oooOOOooo-

Wayne Miller entered the teacher's common area to find it deserted other than Cristina Kyle and Vashti Imperia bent over a laptop, working as usual. The former chemical engineer smiled to himself and poured a cup of coffee for himself and his coworkers. He then crossed to the table were the pair were working and slid the cup in front of each of the women.

"Oh!" Christina gasped. "You startled me."

"You were in a zone there," the man known as the Human Alloy noted. "Is our new student that interesting?"

The Blonde woman took a long pull on her coffee. "More confusing than interesting. I've been trying to pin down the track he needs to be on. His abilities are all over the place."

"For instance?" Miller asked.

"Telekinesis, both low and high level, with little control currently, teleportation, short distance at very least, unproven suggestion of mind control and memory wipes which also do not seem to be under conscious control, and there is a claim of being able to rewrite human DNA without coming into physical contact with his victim." Vashti answered. "He supposedly somehow gave a teacher blue hair that resists dyes and grows out again blue when its cut. Oh, and he's a self-healer, at what is described as 'a highly accelerated rate' whatever that means. He's such a mixed bag... I wonder what abilities he has that haven't yet come to light," Vashti sipped her own coffee, and smiled at the incredulous look on her friend's metal face. "What? he's only seven, I kept finding new abilities until well into my teens."

"Oh, god!" Wayne said horrified at the idea.

"You science experiments gone wrong have it easy," Vashti laughed. "There's an explosion, and bingo you've got powers. For those of us who came into our abilities naturally had to learn how to do things as we matured. I opened my first portal into the Netherworld when I was six. I didn't figure out how to close it until I was almost ten."

Wayne shook his head in wonder, trying, not for the first time to imagine what it would have been like to have his powers as a child. " What's our new prodigy's name?"

"Harry Potter," Christina answered.

Vashti paused, that name was familiar somehow. Harry Potter, she repeated the name silently in her head. Harry Potter...

"I may have witnessed an example of his maturation when he arrived. Either that or he was messing with me." Christina said, closing down her laptop.

"How so?" Wayne asked.

"When I was dealing with the representative from the British Embassy, Harry wandered over to the Excelsior flag pole, and was having a one-sided conversation with someone who wasn't there."

"At the flagpole?" Vashti asked paying very close attention.

"Yeah," Christina confirmed. "He claims he can see the Native American there... He called the bound spirit a 'Red Indian', I'll need to talk to him about that. Anyway, he told the same story that you did about the man being bound to that spot and unable to leave."

"I am finding it increasingly disturbing that we have children here with more powerful magical gifts than I have." Vashti sighed. "It seems that Mr. Potter can see and speak with ghosts. I would suggest that young Harry might need to be in the Magic Track."

"Really?" Christina asked, "I've not noticed him doing any incantations or hand gestures like you do..."

"The incantations are for higher level spells, and the gestures allow a more focused application of my force of will, something Harry will need to learn."

"Alright. He still needs to go through a full evaluation on Monday, but I'll tentatively put him down for the Magic Track."

Vashti nodded, she always liked it when she got a chance to add a promising young talent to her program. Still, there was something about the boy's name... Harry Potter...

-oooOOOooo-

Tyler showed Harry where the cafeteria was for breakfast the next morning. The selection of food was in some ways comforting and in other ways disquieting to Harry. Most things he recognized, some he did not.

Deciding to play it safe, Harry selected some scrambled eggs and bacon from the hot line and joined Tyler at a table.

"So," Tyler asked, "what did you want to do today?"

"I don't know," Harry shrugged. "Get to know the school maybe?"

The word 'maybe' was barely past his lips when a blue blur hit Harry at high speed, knocking the pair of them to the floor and slowly came into focus as Harry struggled to get his breath back.

A nearly naked blue skinned boy approximately Harry's age was nose to nose with Harry's face.

"New kid!" the blue boy said excitedly. "New kid play with Bernard? New kid play?"

"Bernard, let him up," Tyler said putting his left hand on the Blue boy's shoulder.

"Tyler play with Bernard?" Bernard asked hopefully as Tyler helped Harry to his feet.

"Yes Norm-rod, please play with Bernard."

Harry turned and was amazed to find a bald boy sitting in what appeared to be a chrome egg with a pair of mechanical arms that was hovering next to the table.

"Oh, CLIMATE CONTROL, another newby," the bald boy said with a sneer.

"Harry, this is Zodon, he's a genius." Tyler said, "Zodon, this is Harry."

"So, newby," Zodon asked, his hovering egg/chair thing moving very close to Harry forcing him to take a step backwards. "What can you do?"

"I... make things happen."

"What kind of things?" Zodon insisted moving even closer, Harry was now up against the wall.

"Zodon, leave him alone." Tyler shouted.

"Get lost Norm-rod," the bald boy huffed using one of his mechanical arms to shove Tyler away. "This is meta talk, you wouldn't understand." Zodon returned his attention to Harry, "so... what can you do?"

In his young life Harry Potter had been bullied more than most children, and he had never liked it. Anger at the sight of his new friend Tyler being shoved away by the boy in the egg spiked and Harry put his hands on the egg to push it away.

Immediately upon contact of Harry's hands with Zodon's command chair things started to happen. From Zodon's point of view, very bad things.

First, three of his four independent computer systems crashed, while the fourth locked into a diagnostic loop. Second, his pressure seals engaged and his chair went into a self-cleaning cycle drenching him in a torrent of water and cleaning solvents. Third, and probably worst from Zodon's point of view, his primary stabilization gyro tumbled on two axises, putting his chair into a high-speed spin.

Harry moved to help Tyler to his feet, and then joined his friend and the blue boy Bernard in staring as Zodon's egg stopped spinning and opened the pressure seals allowing gallons of frothy water to escape.

"CABBAGES! DREAM TIME!" Zodon screamed as his fingers danced over his controls. "WANKEL ROTARY ENGINES!"

The egg inverted and began spinning again. "PORE JUD IS DAID," Zodon began singing at the top of his lungs, "PORE JUD FRY IS DAID, ALL GETHER ROUND HIS CAWFIN NOW AND CRY. HE HAD A HEART OF GOLD AND HE WASN'T VERY OLD~"

"Zodon had something of a potty mouth when he got here," Tyler explained. "His parents gave permission to have a chip implanted in his head that keeps him from swearing. Instead of bad words, he just says other words."

"But he's... singing," Harry noted.

"Oh, yeah, that's Mr. Clay's idea of a joke. When Zodon gets really mad, he starts singing Rodgers and Hammerstein songs."

"OH, WHY DID SUCH A FELLER HAVE TO DIE?" Zodon continued as he spun. "PORE JUD IS DAID, PORE JUD FRY IS DAID. HE'S LOOKIN', OR SO PEACEFUL AND SERENE~ HE'S ALL LAID OUT TO REST WITH HIS HANDS ACROST HIS CHEST. HIS FINGER NAILS HAVE NEVER B'EN SO CLEAN..."

-oooOOOooo-

"Alright Harry," Miss Kyles' voiced rang out from the speakers in the room. "This is a test of what you can do. Don't worry, you can't do anything that could get you hurt, we're just trying to get a handle on just what your powers are and how they work."

Harry nodded and waited. This was something like what the nice Doctors had done back in the big building in England. Testing they called it. It might be kind of scary, but it wouldn't hurt... probably.

Cristina Kyle stood next to Herschel Clay as the technologist's fingers danced over the keyboard. "Ok, it's all set up, though I've got no idea how we're going to test for some of these abilities," the man who had been the hero Mantium in a former life said.

Cristina nodded as she actuated the key for the microphone. "Alright Harry, do you see that big red target on the wall? Make it go as far away from you as you can."

"Okay," Harry responded as he gathered the power he had the way he had been taught by Dr. Singh, before bracing himself and letting fly.

The explosion destroyed ever sensor in the testing room.

-oooOOOooo-

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Harry sobbed in Miss Kyles' arms.

"Kid," the bearded man said as he surveyed the crater that whatever the boy had done had caused in the wall. "You've got nothing to be sorry about."

"It's okay, Harry," Miss Kyles said in soothing tones.

"This whole place is made so that you can do what you do," Hershel Clay said as he knelt so that he could look the boy face to face. "It's what it's for. I for one am impressed. You caved in a wall five whole feet. I couldn't do that."

"Nor could I," Vashti Imperia said as she entered the room. "It seems I was right; Harry's powers are magic based. I felt that all the way up in my classroom."

"All right," Cristina Kyle nodded. "The magic track it is. You'll have to help me with Harry's evaluation then."

"Harry," Vashti said as she knelt down with the other adults to address the still distressed child. "We are going to have so much fun."

A/N: Yeah a cross between Harry Potter and Aaron William's PS-238. I work on this from time to time for the fun of it.

Set in the PS-238 story after Prospero shows up, but before the Alien Invasion. Vashti Imperia will figure out who he is in a chapter or two, mostly because she isn't a wand witch and so only deals with the periphery of the Wandy culture. A running joke in the story will be Harry's every changing Hero name as all the Brit centric names are already taken.

Some of my pre-readers want to know why Maggie Thatcher didn't know Harry was a wizard. Yes, she knows about Wizards and Witches, but they've all done things with their wands. Here's the kid doing stuff without a stick in sight. In a world of people faster than a speeding bullet, which is the more likely cause?

I know where I want to take this, where 17-year-old Harry shows up for the final confrontation with Tom and his buddies with his own backup group of people wearing masks, who might be a touch upset about someone coming after one of their own.

At any rate, I just thought I'd share.