Authors Note: Well this is a short chapter as I felt it best to end it where I have. Hope everyone is ok. I can't believe its march already. Once again I would love to thank you all for your reviews and support. It makes me feel very happy.

Chapter 5

They had arrived ten hours ago amid what could only be described as chaos. The voices were loud, everyone running around as if there had been an explosion, but there had not. It was only that Harry Potter had returned and he was one of the five young men standing before them, quiet and understated. There was no scar so not one of them could know which one was their Harry.

Remus had stayed quiet, his head bowed but eyes sharp under the hair falling across his face. Even he found it amusing how the seasoned warriors before him were acting like children, like the second coming had arrived. They were going to be shocked when they realised that Harry was not like how he had been. He was a world apart and Remus was glad that Trowa, for he could not call the monster who had played with him his beloved Harry, would be on their side. If he sided with Voldemort, they and all light magic would be destroyed.

"Harry?" Hermione Granger stepped forward.

She was no longer the bushy haired, awkward girl that she had been. She was now seventeen, a legal adult in the wizarding world and nearly legal in the muggle world. She had blossomed and Trowa slyly noticed how Ron and interestingly enough George Weasley were shooting surreptitious glances towards the girl's arse. That was information that Trowa could use to his advantage.

No one answered her summons, not one of them stepped forward. Trowa and Heero had already decided that Quatre would be the one playing Harry Potter. It would be simpler for Trowa to infiltrate the enemy and it would throw everyone off their game. It had been a dark spell that had taken Harry Potter from their world and obviously the outer shell would in no way resemble the original Harry Potter. A small blonde boy with good manners would fit their illusions of how their Harry should be. However, they had not yet discussed any of this with Quatre, nor had they taught him any of the names of the people he should know. Heero and Trowa had decided they were going to go down the amnesia route which would be much simpler. Trowa was just glad that Remus had learned his place and was keeping his, although well meaning, stupid mouth shut.

"Children they have just arrived maybe we should allow them some time to acclimatise yes? We do not know from which universe they have come from nor how they have had to live," Albus Dumbledore stood calmly at the back of the group though he was no longer the magnificent and eccentric leader that Trowa remembered.

He seemed a shrivelled husk of his old self. His back hunched, his face heavily lined and his hair thinning. His many years of watching people die and fight for the cause that he was in charge of had eaten at the man. This was why Trowa and the other pilots did not want to get old enough to live with their regrets and the deadly mistakes they had all made within their current lives.

"Of course Professor," Hermione bowed her head and stepped back slightly, though from the twitching of her fingers and the slight rocking of her feet, Trowa knew she was itching to have answers. It seemed that had not changed about her in the years he had been gone.

"However, I would like to speak to the young men. If you wouldn't mind," Dumbledore asked bowing his head slightly before turning and walking into the office of the new safe house, which, reminded Trowa of the Burrow. He had never been there himself, but the memories within his head were clear. Molly Weasley, the matriarch, was probably in charge of the decorating and cleaning of this house.

They followed in a straight line, neither looking left nor right, with Remus bringing up the rear. Trowa kept his head down, his hand brushing against Quatre's back every now and again to let him know he was there, that he was always behind him and to hopefully calm the storm which was about to arrive when Quatre realised just what Trowa was planning for him.

Trowa was brought back from his reverie as a door clicked shut behind him. The office was small and cramped, full of whirring trinkets that spun and dazzled in bright colours. They were most probably protection trinkets, spying trinkets and over there in the corner was the birds stand hovering over a pile of red ash. From his memories, Trowa knew that Fawkes must have had his burning day quite recently and would soon be reborn. An interesting sight that Trowa longed to see with his own eyes, not that of the stale memories of Harry Potter who's mind was just a shadow.

Dumbledore looked around the young men in his office and took special interest in Trowa and Heero. They looked more like the Harry Potter he knew especially the shorter one with the messy hair but the look in their eyes and the way they stood blew that thought out of his mind, they were killers and Harry Potter no matter which body he would inhabit would ever be capable of killing.

"I thought this would be easier on you all to acclimatise," Dumbledore spoke first. The pilots were standing at various, strategically considered points around the room. Eyeing every escape route, every nook and cranny where an enemy could be hiding and Trowa knew that Dumbledore had noticed. He was not one to be underestimated. Even though the pilots had been brought up in war zones, had fought, killed and nearly died multiple times, often by their own hands, Dumbledore was much older than them and had been fighting much longer. The things that the man must have seen made Trowa intrigued as to why he hadn't killed himself already.

"Thank you sir. May I enquire as to your name?" Quatre spoke first. Leaning forward, his blue eyes sparkled and his mouth opened wide as he smiled kindly. If his hair was dark and messy, if his eyes were green and had a scar on his forehead then it would be easy to mistake the young man as Harry Potter.

"Of course where are my manners? Albus Dumbledore. You could say I am in charge of the side fighting against the dark lord Voldemort," His voice was clear but gravelly and tired from age and for having no hope.

"Where are my manners? What are your names?" He asked. Trowa quickly nodded at Heero who stepped forward, placing a hand on Quatre's shoulder and tapping.

Morse code.

They had realised one too many war zones ago that they could still communicate even if they were being watched and listened to. Tapping in a Morse code of a language they had made up allowed them to plan, to communicate an escape clause and it had been Quatre's idea. For all his weaknesses Trowa had to admit that he was very clever and could be extremely manipulative.

The upbringing of the perfect heir of a business conglomerate.

Heero was explaining the plan he and Trowa had decided on in the basement. He was telling Quatre to become Harry Potter, to tell a tall tale about amnesia. Quatre brought up his hand and squeezed Heero's slightly. Trowa swallowed down the bile of jealousy that clogged his throat. It was only Quatre stating that he understands. There was no feeling behind it, in fact from the tight way that Quatre squeezed Heero's hand, Trowa knew he was in the bad books.

"My name is Quatre Rabarba Winner but according to your friend Mr Lupin here I am also Harry Potter. Though I have recollection as to who or what that is," Quatre lied smoothly an embarrassed laugh falling from his mouth. Remus wanted to step forward but Wufei held him back, a dagger pressing against his back drawing blood. He knew that no matter what he was thinking these young and deadly men would think nothing about killing him to protect their secret.

"You don't remember?" Dumbledore looked saddened just for a second before his mind seemed to twirl with ideas of how he could use this to the best benefit of the war effort. Trowa could see the calculations, after all it was the same look he and Heero often shared when planning.

Trowa felt no hatred toward the man. War was war and all was fair in it. Both sides would suffer losses and see horrors. Both sides believed in their own righteous views and would do whatever was needed. Dumbledore was only trying to find solutions that would minimise the deaths of his friends and family.

"No sir. I only know myself as that which I have introduced myself. Do not get me wrong; what Mr Lupin says does make sense in a strange sort of way. I have been having strange dreams but I thought them only my brain's way of protecting me from the horrors that we have faced in our world. Who would think that magic was real? Though that would explain how space would speak to me," Quatre rambled expertly, his hand going up to rake through his hair like he had seen Trowa do only once and Trowa was awed by his acting skills. He had truly underestimated Quatre; he would not make that mistake again.

"Ah space talk?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes I was born in the colonies, a country in space if you will. I have always been able to feel the emotions of the person or people around pain, their happiness, their betrayal. My father said that I was gifted with the voice and heart of space to seek truth. Maybe it is the magic of this Harry Potter manifesting itself," Quatre made himself look confused though he accentuated on the word betrayal, a sly look over his shoulder towards the male who stood closest to him the one beyond. He was annoyed with Trowa and Heero for once more making plans about their lives without consulting them as they only thought about the end game not what happened in between.

"Why yes that does sound like magic. Magic has a strong tendency to find it's way to the right individual no matter what atmosphere or universe it is. Empathy as you describe it is powerful asset that you must welcome with open arms. It is truly a great gift that reminds me of your mother my dear boy," Dumbledore smiled brightly and Quatre responded like the professional actor he was. He went teary eyed at the mention of a deceased mother that was meant to be his. He had fooled Dumbledore and at the same time shown Trowa how it was that he was able to use Wing Zero and nearly kill him.

The rest of the time in Dumbledore's office had been dull. He had repeated everything to Quatre about what magic was and the special things he could do but made no mention of the war or how it was going. Trowa took special interest in that. He was still playing some of his old tricks, allowing his own emotional feelings towards their age blinding him from the allies that they were. That was why they were losing. Although Heero had always said that the best thing was to act on one's emotions, Trowa did not find it rational. Emotions blinded you, emotions got you killed and stopped you from winning the fight. He had killed the only friend he had. The real Trowa Barton was going stand in his and the colonies way of earning peace so he took out his gun and shot him. Did it matter that it was his only friend? Did it matter that he was holding a picture of a child? No it did not bother him in the slightest and even to this day he did not regret his decision and would stand by it and do it again.

If it came to it he would kill Quatre in a second if it meant winning the war. It was rational.

They had been left to go their own way, to be shown to the room which they would be sharing. It was like being in a dormitory and Trowa could see Heero's grimace at the thought of sharing a room with Duo, who snored loudly when he was in the rare deep sleep of living in peace.

It was a manipulation. A clever one.

Trowa knew this; he could see it in Dumbledore's slight smile as he told them. He wanted to bring forth Harry Potter and he thought he could do that by making Quatre remember his school days. It was clever but laughable. Trowa knew that Dumbledore had no idea that Quatre was not Harry nor did he know that there had been many times when the five of them had shared much closer quarters then just a bedroom, they had shared cells together. They had been forced to urinate, to throw up, to defecate in front of each other but it was war and that was to be expected.

When they had left the office, when they had been shown to the room where they were to be staying. Trowa noticed that Dumbledore had them sharing with Ron ,who had grown into his height and looks. The full weight of what had happened hit home. Trowa felt like he was under water and couldn't breathe, but he said nothing. Heero stopped beside him, placing a calloused hand against his bare back under his shirt, the tight khaki shirt stained with sweat and smelling of gunpowder residue. He was bringing Trowa back to reality, sometimes they needed physical touch. His skin was pinched roughly. The pain calming him. Emotions were not rational in war. He repeated this in his mind several times just finding comfort in the cool touch of Heero's hand against his skin.

Quatre came beside him smiling at him softly, telling him in his own way that he was here, that Trowa was doing the right thing before glaring. Trowa rolled his eyes slightly. He knew that Quatre would be for them, he had made sure that he was Quatre's number one. That Quatre would always be there for him even if Trowa wouldn't be there. Then the moment was spoiled, the hand on his back instantly disappeared as Hermione and the rest of the Weasley clan came bounding in. Hermione jumped on Quatre who stiffened. He did not like touch, the wing zero had changed him. He liked only the touch of his family and the pilots, not a stranger who smelt of potion fumes that were like rotten eggs.

"Harry where have you been? What have you been up to? Why is your hair blonde? How could you do that? Why did you kill yourself?" A barrage of questions came flying from her mouth leaving Quatre to stare at her dumbly trying to discern which question he should try to answer first.

"I'm sorry but who are you?" Quatre responded kindly, a smile wide on his lips though one fist was clenched. Duo was laughing in the background, his hand pressing into his side as he felt a stitch start to build. He was finding the entire situation incredibly hilarious.

"Oh Harry. Professor Lupin told us that you didn't remember," she put her hand up to her mouth and her eyes seemed to water. It was a disgusting show of emotion in a situation that did not need tears. At least Catherine had only cried when he had tried to kill himself by detonating his Gundam. That had been a pretty good reason to cry, he thought.

Hours passed at a mind numbingly slow pace as Hermione and Ginny took it upon themselves to make Quatre remember. Duo was asleep in the corner, loud snores ripping from his throat. He knew that as the other pilots were awake and they were safe for the moment he could fall into the rarity of a deep sleep. Wufei was also asleep, sat on a chair arms crossed head bowed.

It had seemed too long before finally everyone decided to go to bed. As the girls left, as Ron quickly fell into a deep sleep, his snores matching with Duos in a weird symphony, Trowa went to get into bed with Quatre.

"Don't even think about it," Quatre glared at Trowa, his lips pulled back into an angry snarl as Trowa stood there.

"You're not still mad about me not telling you?" Trowa sighed.

"Don't even try and wiggle yourself out of this. You fucking lied to me Trowa, you made me lie for you and made me suffer that moronic woman's questions," Quatre was pissed. He never swore and never degraded a woman. Trowa had pushed him too far.

"It was rational. It makes sense. Think about it."

"Shut up and get out of my sight or so help me I'll make you remember why you lost your memory that one time!"

Trowa nodded holding his hands up in surrender and walked out of the room, Heero following him not being able to sleep in this strange new world. They both knew as they walked down the rickety old stairs, the clocks ticking in the background and snores' coming from above that this was going to be a long night.

They wondered where the alcohol was.