Disclaimer: HP and RotG aren't mine.

Chapter 4

Mm, Harry felt positively lethargic. He couldn't think of any time in his life when he was this warm and cozy. Unfortunately, with these thoughts came the slow awareness of impending consciousness. He didn't want to wake up from this peacefully feeling yet. The more he tried to fight it the faster it happened. Harry felt as if he was trying to swim through honey from the bottom of the jar. He didn't feel any urgency like he would if he was drowning but he was anticipating breaking the surface.

He woke up to find himself lying flat on his back, blanketed by a thick mist. Harry stood up and looked around. Nothing, he could hardly see his feet on the ground. Looking down at himself, he was wearing everything he had worn when he fell asleep. The same jeans and long sleeve green t-shirt and sneakers. They are exactly as he remembered, except cleaner and they look like he bought them brand new. He could feel the moleskin poach around his neck. He reached to check what was in his back right pocket and discovered his holly wand. He had been so relieved when the Elder Wand had been able to repair it. He had always felt a strong connection with it and it was not just the magical compatibility. Harry was more sentimentally attached to his wand than he was to his Firebolt. He'd been glad to pass over the Elder Wand to Hermione to return to Dumbledore's tomb.

Returning his wand to his back pocket, Harry felt the silky, watery texture of the cloak he wore. With a start he realized it was his invisibility cloak. It was fastened at the neck but thrown over his shoulders like a cape. He'd never tried wearing it in this fashion before. He'd always put it on as he would his black school robe whenever he didn't want to be seen. He'd just assumed it would always make him invisible no matter how he wore it. Not that it mattered because he wouldn't have changed they way he used it, he still would have wanted to keep it a secret.

As Harry familiarized himself with his person, the mist had slowly cleared to reveal the high arched ceiling and large windows of King's Cross Station.

"I know this place," Harry murmured to himself, looking around.

"Yes, you were here once before. This is the in-between realm – not alive but not dead. I believe the humans call it 'Limbo'," a voice answered. Harry spun around in a circle looking for who had spoken.

"Why am I here?" Harry asked the voice, still scanning his surrounding for where it originated.

"I have let you rest as long as I can."

"What do you mean?" Harry tried, hoping for a straight answer.

"You have slept for what would equal 15 years in human time. That is all I can allow you."

"15 years!" Harry exclaimed. "But what about my friends? What happened after I defeated Voldemort?" Harry was shocked. Sure he had been tired but to sleep for 15 years?

"Do not be concerned. They have lived well."

"So does this mean I'm dead?" Harry asked, thinking of his desire to be reunited with his family in the Hereafter. If Life was not an option, then he wanted to be with them as he had when he faced his death in the forest.

"No, you will not pass on. As you were once the guardian of the Wizarding World now I invite you to be a Guardian of Childhood. However, I know that by choosing you for this path I will be denying you your first wishes. That is why I have arranged a small window through which you will be able to experience them," answered the voice.

Harry watched as the mist enveloped King's Cross. He turned in place waiting anxiously. This had happened last time just before he woke up in the Land of the Living. Harry waited… and waited. Finally a large translucent sphere drifted in front of him at eye level. It looked like an air bubble you would see underwater. At first Harry only saw his reflection on its surface. He looked like he hadn't aged a day since he went to sleep in the tower. He hadn't even grown stubble on his chin. His scar was faded to a white line that, while less noticeable, was still visible if one was looking closely. Even his hair was in the same wild state as it had been his whole life. His glasses were gone though. They weren't on his face and yet Harry could see as clearly as if he was wearing them. Better in fact since it had been impossible to keep the lenses clean in the last year. Well, Harry thought, in the last year he spent with the Living. He noticed that without them he looked much younger and the colour of his eyes was even more vivid. Strange what a simple change could have. Harry doubted even his best friends would have recognized him like this at first glance.

Just as Harry began to lift his left hand to run through his hair in an attempt to tame it, an image appeared within the sphere. It was slow to come into focus but when the image finally settled he was looking at a three dimensional image of a mother standing in the bedroom doorway of her four children as they slept. Her husband's arm was wrapped around her. The image brought tears to Harry's eyes. It seems Ron had plucked up the courage to ask Hermione to marry him. Looking at the ages of their children, Harry had to guess that the wedding hadn't been too long after the end of the war. He wished he could have been there. Harry noticed that underneath their happiness there was the lingering pain of loss. They wished he could have been there with them as well. Harry wondered what jobs they had pursued. Had Ron gone on without him to become an Auror? Had Hermione chosen to go into the Ministry to try and change the injustice of the system or had she gone into private research and then to teach at Hogwarts? He had missed so much.

As the questions about their lives raced through his head, the image in the sphere responded by flicking through different scenes. Ron worked with George in the shop? After all the stories Ron had told him of his childhood, Harry would have thought that working in the shop would have been Ron's last choice. Maybe it had something to do with losing Fred. The image changed again and this time he saw Hermione standing before what looked like the full body of the Wizengamot. Despite the maturity he could see in her face, he recognized that expression from all the years of adventures they had shared. It was the "I'm right so you better listen to me unless you want to end up dead or worse" expression. The sphere didn't provide accompanying sound to the image it projected but Harry didn't need to hear what she or the rest of the members had to say to know that Hermione had probably gotten her way on whatever issue their were debating. It was good to know that after all the sacrifices he and others had made, all the opinions he had changed during the fight against Voldemort, and all the good relations he had fostered with different races of magical creatures that someone was working to make sure that that wasn't forgotten and the mistakes of the past were not repeated.

The image faded out completely and remained blank for a second before a new image began to materialize. This time the image showed Neville working on a small potted plant at a bench in a greenhouse. He moved calmly but with confidence as he repotted the flowering plant. His face was a picture of concentration at the moment but once the transplant was finished his face relaxed into one of peaceful contentment. Harry always knew Neville could be like this. He had seen flashes of it in the early years of Hogwarts. His inner strength and confidence had fully bloomed by the final battle and Harry was never more proud of his friend then when he stood up to Voldemort thinking Harry was dead. In the image, Neville turned around as though someone had called his name. As Harry watched, a woman with long blond hair skipped into view and gave Neville a quick kiss on the lips before taking his hand, resting her head on his shoulder, and leading him out of Harry's sight. Luna and Neville? Harry had to admit he wasn't expecting that but he was happy for them, as it was obvious that their love for one another was genuine.

He wondered what Luna was doing with her life. Although she was clearly happy with Neville, Harry couldn't picture her as a housewife. Had she taken over from her father as editor of The Quibbler? The image changed in response to his musings. The image that materialized was a bit confusing at first glance. It looked like he was standing in the children's section of Flourish and Blotts. Looking at the shelves in front of him, a wide grin spread across his face as he read some of the titles on the bottom two shelves. Those two shelves were dedicated to the works of one author and featured titles such as The Tale of the Incorrigible Crumpled-Horned Snorkack, A Nargle Christmas, and Mortimer's Wrackspurts. Luna had used all the creatures she had believed in as the inspiration for children's stories and from what he could tell was quite successful with it.

The image again blacked out. This would be the last one, Harry knew. There was only one more person to see. This one showed a red headed woman sitting on a couch next to a man. They were watching a football match on a muggle television with two identical looking little girls sitting on the floor in front of them eating popcorn from a large bowl. That was Ginny, all grown up with two twin girls. She looked happier than Harry had seen her since before the war. The stress lines around her eyes were gone, replaced by age and laugh lines. Looking at the man sitting next to her, Harry recognized his old roommate Dean. Dean looked like he had just worked a long day but under the tiredness, Harry could see the same happiness in his eyes as Ginny had in hers. The family was engaged in the game and stood up in unison to shout at the TV screen. Must be a fowl against their team if the outrage on Dean's face is anything to go by. Harry imagined that if Quidditch was televised that the family would be even more engaged with the match. He could only smile at the image. He was happy for them. If he was entirely truthful, Harry doubted that he would have been able to give this to Ginny had he lived and had they gotten back together. He was glad she had moved on.

The image dissipated and the sphere dissolved leaving Harry alone in the mist with his thoughts. He needed a moment to collect himself. His emotions were still raw and he hadn't had the time to process everything. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to centre himself. He could accept and appreciate the lives his friends had gone on to live without him. The part he was having trouble adjusting to was that he had missed being there to experience it with them. Getting to see snapshots of what had become of them could never be as satisfying as being included in those moments. He didn't get to see the transition his friends went though from wartime to peacetime. He wasn't there to reassure Ron that Hermione would say "yes" when he asked her to marry him; he had missed Hermione and Ginny being moms; he had missed all the life moments of their children. The list was endless. Perhaps it had been a good thing that he hadn't had the foresight to consider these things when he was walking out to meet Voldemort in the forest. Otherwise, he might not have been able to summon the courage to do what he had done. Now he was giving himself a headache thinking of all the possible alternative outcomes to the war if he chosen a different path. He took another deep breath.

Harry could see why the voice had shown him those glimpses. Besides satisfying his need to ensure his friends' wellbeing, the voice had used the images to subtly tell him that his friends had come to terms with his disappearance/death. Even if he wanted to, he could not rejoin them. He had to move on as well.

As he came to accept that realization, the mist around Harry began to clear away. Harry prepared himself for whatever would come next. He knew better this time not to expect to wake up and find himself back in the Land of the Living. Something else was happening. As he scanned his surroundings, he thought back to his conversation with the disembodied voice. The voice had been responsible for the appearance of the image sphere. When he had first awoken in this place and again just before the sphere appeared his greatest wish was to return to his life and his friends. That meant that whatever was happening now would have something to do with granting Harry something he truly desired. There was only one other thing Harry could think of that fit that criteria. If it wasn't his friends then it was his family.

Just as Harry came to that conclusion the mist finally cleared and there they were. The one thing Harry had wanted most in his entire life as far back as he could remember. The second-hand stories and short ethereal visits over the years since he entered the Wizarding World had done little to ease the loneliness he felt. There had been times when they had actually had the opposite effect. It was what he imagined an addiction to be like. In the first years of Hogwarts, before he had really comprehended his responsibilities, it had been the worst. He had recognized his cravings after his experience with the Mirror of Erised. If Dumbledore hadn't found him, hadn't intervened, Harry would have wasted away staring into the mirror. After that he had tried his hardest to be strong and be independent but every time he had heard stories or seen a vision it had been like satisfying a fix and going through the subsequent crash when their continued presence was denied.

They looked just as they had the night he had summoned them with the Resurrection Stone. Except that instead of looking like insubstantial figures here they looked completely solid, almost as if he could reach out and touch them. As if reading his mind, his mother came forward and pulled him into a hug. For a moment Harry was stunned. Then he brought his arms up to wrap around her and buried his face in her shoulder. He had not intended to but Harry couldn't hold back the tears. He cried silently in his mother's arms as he had wanted to every time he felt insecure growing up. This was so much better then he had ever imagined. His mother's hug was firm and comforting, nothing like the smothering hold of Mrs. Wesley.

It wasn't long before Harry felt a body on his right and left. He peeked up from his mother's shoulder to see his father and Sirius on either side of him with either arm around him and his mother. They stood in that group embrace for what seemed like forever. Harry lost all conceptions of time. He just basked in the love and security of their arms.

As they parted, Harry shrank into himself as his insecurities resurfaced. He was so happy that he was with his parents that it all of a sudden occurred to him that he might have done something in his life that they would be ashamed of. Even if in a corner of his mind he knew the ridiculousness of this, he was the little boy in the cupboard under the stairs desperate for his family to want him and every day being reminded that they did not. What if his parents hated him for something he did the same way the Dursleys had hated him for performing magic?

"Oh Honey. Nothing you have ever done, nor anything you could ever do, will ever make us hate you." Lily calmly explained as she sensed Harry's thoughts and feelings. She placed her hand on Harry's cheek to ease his troubles. "The life you lived was not the one we wanted for you. In the ideal world, we wished you a life of peace, happiness, joy."

"And pranks and tricks," Sirius added. Lily rolled her eyes at his antics, but the smile on her face betrayed her affection.

"That's right son. We couldn't be more proud of you and the choices you made but I would have much preferred to have worried for you over your Quidditch games, or girls, or even how well you were doing in your classes than for your life," James remarked.

"But there are things I have done... It was my fault that you all died," Harry stammered.

"No!" Lily vehemently denied. "It was not your fault. We were the adults. We did what we had to because we wanted you to live. We love you, Harry. We will always love you."

"But the choices I made…" Harry insisted only to be interrupted by his father.

"… were the best ones at the time considering the facts you had and the stresses you were under. No one can fault you for trying your best."

"It's not like we would have been able to change your mind if we were there any way. Once you get an idea in that thick head of yours there is no talking you out of it," Sirius added with a smile, letting Harry know that he was half teasing.

"Yeah, I know. Hermione never had any success with that," Harry said sheepishly, but in much better spirits.

Their conversation lightened after that as his parents told their stories with the occasional input from Sirius. They laughed, they cried, and from these stories he finally got to know his parents as the people they truly were, both their good and bad aspects, and he loved them all the more. In return he was able to share everything he'd ever wanted to tell them and ask them whatever he wanted. Most of his questions and thoughts were ones that held more importance when he'd experienced them in the moment but it was comforting to still hear their reassurances after the fact. Finally their time came to a close and the mist engulfed his mother, father, and Sirius.

"Thank you." Harry felt the words were inadequate to express the depth of his gratitude. He didn't need to elaborate. MiM understood the detailed emotions behind the simply words.

Harry cleared his throat. "I accept your offer. I want to become a Guardian", he said to change the subject. Talking with his parents had really helped to settle his emotions. He'd always recognized his fierceness to protect people, or as Hermione called it his "saving people" thing. That was something that had developed before he knew who he was, a personality trait he attributed to Just Harry. It was this part of him that accepted the idea of becoming a Guardian. Even though he really didn't have a choice in the matter, MiM was gracious for his agreement. Things will go more smoothly for the both of them with Harry's cooperation.

And so MiM taught him everything he could. About the Guardians and how to use his magic to the fullest. When he had nothing else to teach him, he returned Harry to the Living world. Not to the abandoned tower but to the place where he was needed most by the children that his was to protect.

In parting he whispered to Harry, "Good luck, Just Harry. I wish you well."

A/N: Thank you all for your patients. I know this style, creating a backstory first, is slow getting into the main story. This chapter was the last of Harry's set up story. There may be the odd flashback later in the story to explain Harry's knowledge and abilities but for now we're going to get into the good stuff. Enter the Guardians and let the adventure begin! Just so you know, I only have a rough idea of where I want to go with this story. I have a bunch of pieces that I want to include and ideas for the grand finale. I'm telling you this to prepare you for the possibility of having to wait longer for updates.

Thanks again for your feedback. As I mention before, I started writing this story because I had already read the other HP/RotG x-overs and wanted something different. It hadn't occurred to me until after I posted my first chapter that other people wanted the same. Hearing what you have to say makes writing this story even more enjoyable for me and is a great motivator to continue writing. Keep it coming! I really want to know what you think. Ask me questions - I'll do my best to address all of them. Feel free to offer suggestions for the story - I may use it or I may not. Also, don't be afraid to let me know if I've made mistakes or if you think the story should have gone in a different direction. Is there anything I can change to the style to make it easier to read (like indications when there's a change in time or scene)? I'm open for constructive criticism.

Cheers

~*~ Sundance-gurl