In a different time, a different place, a black-haired teenager collapsed on a bed, exhausted from cleaning and his own thoughts. Currently he was hiding from Mrs Weasley, who he knew would give him yet another job to do if he saw her. Really, this place was a mess. He needed some time to relax, and just think without distractions or annoyances.

This summer had been both frightening and frustrating for Harry Potter. He had spent all of July with no real contact from his friends, no idea what was going on except the vague pieces of information that had appeared on muggle news about these "demons". It made him angry, so much so that he had pretty much blown up at his friends when he first got here. However, he had slightly calmed down now, enough to think rationally at least. Apparently, no-one knew anything about these "demons" except that magic didn't work on them, neither did muggle weapons. The thought of something like that made him scared, perhaps even more scared than Voldemort made him. At least Voldemort was, though twisted, human.

He remembered strange feelings too over the holidays, days in which he felt happiness that he knew wasn't his own, and anything that made Voldemort happy was never good. Now, lying in bed, he began to link up the dates. It seemed like the times when he had felt happy were the days on which demon attacks occurred. He might not have been wonderfully smart, but Harry could see the implications. Voldemort was behind the attacks.

He told the Order, for once knowing that this sort of information should be shared no matter how depressing it was that these "demons" were his weapons rather than random monsters on neither side. Honestly, looking at the size of the Order of the Phoenix; at how little they knew, it almost seemed like they were going to lose this war, especially since the Ministry refused to see the truth about Voldemort's return; instead painting him and Dumbledore as lunatics.

Harry shivered as he thought back to that night. The night when he witnessed Cedric's death. He had seen that image almost every night in his dreams, the blank look on Cedric's face practically ingrained in his memory. Wearily, he got up as Mrs Weasley called everyone for lunch. Hopefully the rest of today, August the seventh, would go a little better than previous days. Maybe he would be able to stop thinking about that night and worrying more about his upcoming trial.

**********CROSSOVER

The Headmaster of Hogwarts sat at his unusually messy desk, chin resting on his hands with his elbows on the table and his eyes gazing at nothing, mulling over all the information he knew, which regretfully was very little.

Dumbledore did not like being in situations he knew nothing about. He was usually the one who knew what was happening, the manipulator, the one who pulled the strings from behind the scenes. He was not someone who liked to rely on "hope" alone, he preferred to plan, at least when he got older anyway. Perhaps when he was younger he would have had more faith things would work out right, but he knew fate rarely let things turn out the way you want them to. So, in order to keep control of any situation, you needed more knowledge. And knowledge was something he didn't have when it came to these demons. So he was left with hope.

Hope that his message had reached the correct people, people who could fight these "demons", hope that people like that actually existed. He had figured they must, since "demons" hadn't been around for a hundred years before now, so they must have been defeated somehow. That just left him a question of why they came back. Why now, during this war? He briefly entertained the possibility that Voldemort had somehow created them, though Dumbledore doubted it. They didn't look like any magic he knew of. And then there was the other mystery.

No information on "demons" or any people who fought them could be found bar the scant amount he had in his memories. He was sure that they had been around a hundred years ago, so for information like that to have gone missing or not exist was...suspicious. Almost like a complete and thorough cover-up, as though the information was purposely destroyed, for otherwise there should have been lots of information on them in both muggle and magical history.

He sighed. He really was getting far too old for all of this. Checking his rather confusing pocket watch, he turned to Fawkes.

"Let's go."

They vanished from the office in a flash of fire.

********CROSSOVER

Sitting down to a marvellous lunch created by Mrs Weasley was definitely a perk of living at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. She also seemed to have piled extra onto Harry's own plate because he was "too scrawny" for her liking. Strangely, there seemed to be a lot more of the Order there than usual; normally only a few members were actually there for meals, with most of them coming in and out randomly for only a few minutes at a time.

After lunch, none of given a job to do, instead Lupin announced that he had news.

"Dumbledore had told me that he has contacted some people who will help to destroy the "demons" that have been attacking people. Apparently, if they have agreed, they will be coming here at around nine o'clock. All the Order will be here, along with everyone who is not part of the Order but is living here." At this he looked towards Harry and his friends, his gaze softening. "This time it's not just the Order who will know."

Moody scoffed at his words.

"I find it hard to believe anyone will be able to fight these creatures. These people could well be servants of Voldemort."

"Moody, it is unlikely that Dumbledore would ask for help from anyone who would have links to You-Know-Who-"

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE is required at all times! Everyone is a suspect! No-one can be trusted!" There was a time when Harry might have laughed a little at that paranoia. However, news of death, seeing Cedric's own right before his eyes as well as Barty Crouch Junior spending all of last year pretending to be his teacher meant he agreed, at least a little. Danger could very well be hiding right under their noses and they wouldn't be able to see it until it was too late.

Lupin sighed.

"I know that. However, the world is a very strange place if even Dumbledore can't be trusted." There was a general muttering of agreement, though no-one said anything loudly. The mood in this house was rather dark and tense; everyone on edge no matter how much Mrs Weasley tried to distract them with cleaning. Here they were isolated, away from the ever-present danger outside. Meanwhile, the Daily Prophet and the Ministry of Magic still kept denying anything was wrong, insisting that these "demons" were simply rogue magic that was being dealt with swiftly by Aurors. This was a blatant lie; "demon" attacks seemed to be occurring almost every day, each time wiping out a small segment of humanity completely without hindrance. Everyone there, whether they showed it or not, hoped that Dumbledore had found a way to deal with these monsters. For if he hadn't, it was unlikely anyone would survive this year.

*******CROSSOVER

At five to nine, Dumbledore stood in the grassy square in the middle of Grimmauld Place, fiddling with his Deluminator. He had no idea of how these people from another time were going to get here, or even if they had got his message. However, maybe it was just a feeling he had, but he was sure that something at least would happen at nine o'clock tonight. They would answer his call. They had to.

From his position, he would be able to sense them coming if they came by any sort of normal transport, and he would see them if they used a Time Turner or something similar to get there. He would know, and when he did meet them, he would keep his appearance of being old, powerful and all-knowing, the way his aura had been for many years now. Maybe he himself could discover a way to defeat these "demons" with their help, and then he wouldn't need them to be out of their own timeline, wherever they came from.

At nine o'clock precisely, the wind seemed to pick up, and a patch of ground near him began to shimmer and ripple, similar to the way a pool would ripple if a single drop of water fell into it. Out of the middle of the ripples emerged a series of glowing white diamonds, the number thirteen glowing red on one of the topmost diamonds. When it stopped rising it was at least twice as tall as Dumbledore, and the wind and ripples halted.

The surface of the diamonds rippled, and from them emerged a young man of Chinese origin, dressed in a white lab coat and a white beret atop his dark blue hair; dark eyes beneath a pair of wire-frame glasses.

"I assume you are Albus Dumbledore, the one who contacted us?" He spoke, holding one hand out in a friendly fashion, his voice strangely void of any accent that his appearance may have hinted; clearly he had lived in England for a good while.

"Indeed I am." If Dumbledore had been shocked anything, none of it showed in his twinkling eyes or kind smile as he shook hands with the other, glad he was returned the smile.

"Good. I am Komui Lee, Supervisor to the Black Order. It's nice to meet you."

One thing Dumbledore was very good at was reading people, even without using leglimens. He could see the slight mischievous spark in Komui's eyes, the way his smile came perfectly naturally, the intelligence that Komui clearly possessed, along with feeling the roughness of his hands, though what caused that Dumbledore didn't know.

Behind Komui more people emerged, dressed in mostly black uniforms contrasting Komui's own white outfit. Five had gold highlights on their clothes making Dumbledore suspect they were higher rank, even if one of them looked rather young. The other had red highlights. It was the variance in ages that really struck Dumbledore. While one of them appeared to be around an elderly, if short, man, another boy in looked around twelve. He wondered to himself exactly who they were.

"I thought in England it was customary to skip number thirteen, not number twelve." A voice spoke up, and Dumbledore glanced over, amused, to see a tall young man who couldn't have been over nineteen gazing at the houses. His hair was a brighter red than even the Weasley's, his right eye covered by an eye patch while his left eye observed his surroundings carefully. Dumbledore smiled a little wider.

"That is because the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

The moment those words had left his mouth, numbers eleven and thirteen began to shift as the Headquarters appeared, shuffling and shunting its way into view.

"Well, shall we go inside?"

-CROSSOVER

A/N: Review? Tell me what you think?