A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful reviews guys! I hope this lives up to your expectations! See ya Tuesday.

EDIT 3/13 - typo fixes

There was surprisingly little argument over Link's presence. Though Harry had been ushered away by Tonks, he heard enough to know that Dumbledore, at least, wanted Link to come with them. Moody had grumbled loudly at the lack of due caution in this decision, but had ultimately capitulated.

Harry found himself strangely glad at that. Though they didn't know each other well, he liked the other boy and was undeniably curious. Perhaps Dumbledore was as well. Whatever the reason, Link had joined them on a freezing ride to Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Had Harry been less miserably cold, he would have laughed at the elfin boy's expression as they mounted what should have been household tools.

"You've never flown before?" he couldn't help but ask once they'd landed. It was clear he hadn't. Link had sat awkwardly on the broom with a baffled look until Tonks had kindly offered instruction. He'd adapted quickly, but not without some initial fumbling that made Moody snarl impatiently.

Link handed the slip of parchment back to Moody, removing the glasses that Lupin assured him had the same function as the language spell, only for the written word. He slipped them into the pack that rested at the small of his back. It was the same pack he'd stowed his sword in after trading a few cross words with Moody, and Harry goggled at the enchantments that must be on it, to allow such a big blade to fit inside. Slung across Link's back, it had looked huge. Though Link himself had to've been barely scraping five feet, so it probably wasn't the greatest comparison.

"Not with a broom." He tilted his head. "Fight, yes, but not fly."

Harry sorely wanted to ask, but Moody took the opportunity to grumpily usher them inside.

Lupin quietly advised them both not to touch anything as they stepped inside the silent building. Harry wasn't sure he would have wanted to anyway. Everything he could see looked dank and grimy, and the light Moody provided an instant later only added to that impression.

Mrs. Weasley rushed over in a whirl, and Harry smiled at her fierce hug. She tutted softly at how thin he was, and Harry was grateful when she distracted herself quickly enough with Link's presence. He was less grateful however, when Link was ushered away. Harry wasn't so far away he couldn't hear the words 'meeting' and 'Dumbledore.' Link merely nodded and left with the matronly witch, leaving Harry to once again be excluded.

Hestia Jones, Emmaline Vance, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody, Severus Snape, Sirius Black, Arthur, Molly, and Bill Weasley, Mundungus Fletcher, and Albus Dumbledore. Link tried to keep all of the names and faces straight, but it was a lot of people to meet in a very short amount of time. All of them were watching him with varying degrees of caution, and Link carefully resisted the urge to stare at their ears.

He'd never been around such a large group of humans before. Though common in neighboring provinces, humans hadn't been to Hyrule in centuries, and Link had never been outside the kingdom. Not in this life, anyway.

It wasn't as though they were that different from one another. Hylians and gerudo had once considered themselves humans too. But it was still a little strange, and Link felt that same peculiar sense of displacement he had when he'd first reintroduced himself to the various races around Hyrule, and when he'd first drawn the Master Sword. During the coronation, especially. It was as though he existed just a step out of touch with everyone else. He supposed that was truer now than it had ever been.

It didn't help that these humans were even more unusual than their rounded ears would suggest.

They were mages. All of them.

Mages had become increasingly rare in Hyrule over the last few centuries; millennia, really. Though magic was rich in the blood of hyruleans, those that could and did actively practice such arts had dwindled to a rare few. Outside the Sheikah, all that was left were the scattered bloodlines that carried powers like Daruk's, like Mipha's and Urbosa's and Revali's. Like Zelda's, if such powers could compare to her goddess-blood.

Like Link himself, now, he supposed, though he doubted his magicks could be passed through his blood. Those, after all, had been gifts.

He couldn't recall the mages of Hyrule ever practicing such varied and small magicks however. Link watched as the assembled group settled into place, floating parchments and inkbottles gliding onto the long table in pursuit of their masters. One mage twirled a stick - what appeared at first glance to be a less impressive fire rod - at a teapot, which instantly steamed and rose to pour hot liquid into cups that stirred themselves. The eldest among their number tapped a chair that promptly turned plush and soft.

Despite the casual comfort of his seat, it was this mage that held authority in every aged line of his body. It was clear just from the way the others glanced in his direction that they deferred to him. It was the same sort of respect the new hyrulean council afforded Zelda.

The eldest, Dumbledore, cleared his throat and instantly silenced the room. "We have a great many matters to discuss tonight," he began, voice aged but firm, "starting with our young guest." The smile he turned on Link was kind. "While we are very grateful for your assistance to Mr. Potter, it is a mystery how you came to be there that night. Perhaps you could shed some light on this for us, Mr...?"

Link tilted his head slightly in confusion, quite sure the mage was already aware of his name. "Link," he said simply.

"No surname?" Dumbledore asked, and if there was anything but curiosity in his voice the hylian couldn't tell.

It was not a topic much discussed in Hyrule, especially as the need for surnames dwindled after the Calamity. Link had not had one, before, but if they were to follow tradition in this then he supposed he should start using the name granted to him through marriage. "Hyrule."

Months after the fact, and that still sounded strange.

"Mr. Hyrule, then."

Very strange.

Link met the old mage's eyes. The gaze felt piercing, even through slender half-moon glasses. "I don't know how I came to Little Whinging," he said honestly. There was nothing to be gained through lies at this juncture, and even if there were, Link didn't know enough about this world to be able to tell. "I was battling more of those monsters, but at the time I was in Gerudo Desert." The old Arbiter's Grounds, specifically. While roads and bridges currently held precedence in Hyrule's reconstruction, one of the few cultural pursuits the council had agreed upon was unearthing more of their history, primarily in hopes of locating more Sheikah technology for them to adapt and use. Link wasn't entirely sure what had prompted Zelda to choose those ancient ruins as the location for their first dig, but work had ceased after only a few months, when the first of those black-cloaked monsters had appeared.

The monster had done something to one of the workers, rendered her unto a death-like sleep where she breathed and little else. As far as their healers knew, she did not even dream. Their weapons had done little to deter the creature, and just a single beast had emptied the dig site of all its workers. And then more had appeared. Riju rightfully feared for the safety of her people, and had requested the only weapons they'd yet to try; the two holy powers now housed solely within the royal family.

Zelda hadn't wanted to stay behind, but she had understood the necessity of it. Even if she hadn't, her sealing magic was fading. So Link had readied the Master Sword, and left as fast as the Sheikah slate could take him.

Thankfully, it worked. The holy power within the Blade of Evil's Bane had proven effective against the monsters. Even so, with little idea how or why they were appearing Link could accomplish little more than containment. He'd decided then to find the source of their spawning and had ridden to the Arbiter's Grounds.

Link could recall nothing after that.

"I don't remember much else. One moment I was fighting in the desert, the next I had killed the two near Harry."

"I see," Dumbledore hummed, blue eyes glinting with magic. It was an uncomfortable feeling, like being pinned under the weighty gaze of a Sheikah fortune-teller. "Dementors are an ancient evil, and though we wizards have ways to defend against them, never in our knowledge has one truly died. How is it your sword was able to cut them down?"

More than one set of eyes fixed on him at the question. Link frowned, unsure what he should say. The legend was known by everyone in Hyrule, and the blade revered as the weapon of the Hero. There was no reassurance they would see it that way here. "The Master Sword is goddess-forged, and possesses the holy power to vanquish evil. I am afraid if you are searching for something to help you, you need look elsewhere. It can be wielded by no other," Link said firmly, unwilling to continue. He could hear murmurs of discontent and disbelief around him, but across the table blue eyes met blue. Dumbledore somehow knew him to be truthful.

"I see," he repeated. "One final question. Where would you like to go from here?"

"What, that's it?!" someone squawked indignantly. Black, maybe. Link ignored him. Judging by the confused mutters from the majority of those assembled, Dumbledore had gotten significantly more out of their brief conversation than anyone else.

Forget fortune-tellers. This Dumbledore reminded him of Impa.

Link's eyes narrowed faintly. He knew he often appeared inscrutable to others; it remained was a point of contention with Zelda. Though she knew him best, she still had difficulty guessing what he was thinking at times. So what exactly did Dumbledore know, hand how?

The magic here was so varied in use...

"Home. My family needs me." Almost as much as he needed her. Though they were still young, still new to their marriage and the full extent of their royal status, they had meant it when they swore an oath in the eyes of the goddesses to forever be there for one another. And it was now more than ever that he needed to uphold that oath. He met the old mage's eyes and thought of why. Dumbledore's gaze softened in sympathy, and Link resisted the urge to sigh, resigned and a little disturbed by the fact that his thoughts were bared to at least one other than himself. These people, at least, seemed to mean well.

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and abandoned all pretense of including the rest of the men and women in the room in their conversation. "I do not know of a way to help you, but I know of somewhere that might. I would like to extend an offer to you, Your Majesty, if you are willing to hear it."

More than one person choked on their tea. Something primal in Link smiled with the cool certainty that this was right. This was the path he must take.

Perhaps the Goddesses watched over him still.

Link's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I'm listening."

Diagon Alley was as beautiful as it was lively. The shops were crowded with mages draped in colorful robes, peering into windows and exchanging gossip. Shops of all shapes and sizes sold all manner of goods, most of which Link could not even guess a purpose for. And through it all, there was so much magic.

Zelda would have loved this.

Lupin smiled. The scarred mage had kindly offered to be the one to escort Link to and from the Alley, as he was one of the few with no pressing matters to attend to that day. Most of the others had jobs, and the teens were not to leave the house unless absolutely necessary.

The hylian carefully did not think of Harry's outrage at that. The young wizard was clearly troubled for a number of reasons, and had been moody and taciturn for most of their brief acquaintance. Close proximity to his friends hadn't seemed to help much, either. While Link would offer to help if he could, the boy didn't seem much interested in bettering his attitude. If he were truly so determined to wallow in misery, there was little anyone could do to fix things.

Zelda had been much the same, a century ago. At the time, Link had been a convenient outlet for her frustrations. Eventually she had opened up and had been much happier for it, so perhaps Harry would be the same.

"Wand next," Lupin directed. Link nodded, stowing away the last of his books in his korok-enhanced pouch. Though Dumbledore had graciously offered the use of Hogwarts' library, Link had made an alarming number of purchases at Flourish and Blotts. In addition to texts for younger years, the hylian had needed the course books for fifth-year students, both the core classes and two electives.

Runes would have no use in Hyrule. Arithmancy had potential, but required years of dedicated study. He had no viable way of entering that class as a fifth-year. Divination had seemed useful, as both Heroes and Princesses of ages past had been known to have prophetic dreams, but Hermione - to whom Link had been introduced the night prior - had loudly decried the class and teacher both.

That left Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures. This world's technology and ways of dealing with monsters would likely be the most valuable knowledge Link could take home, so the hylian was content with those two choices.

History and Astronomy were out. Neither class would be a worthy use of his time, and Link had immediately argued against taking them. Though they were technically required courses, Dumbledore had eventually capitulated, and offered to allow him to use their timeslots as "free periods" for research. He'd put his foot down on the other core classes though. Link had to at least appear to be a student to explain his presence at Hogwarts, and the magic Link could learn would be useful either way. As Dumbledore had quietly reminded him, if he couldn't use magic, how was it going to be of any help getting him home?

Unfortunately, research into actually getting home would have to wait. Dumbledore had assured him the texts in the school's library and headmaster's office had the highest chances of containing what he needed. Link didn't exactly have many options, so he took the elderly mage at his word.

Even so, Link had purchased nearly fifty tomes. While many were simply ones he thought would be useful once he finally made his way home, there were still an cringe-worthy number he would have to dedicate himself to studying if he were to successfully integrate himself as a fifth-year student at Hogwarts.

(Link considered himself very fortunate that rupees appeared as gems to the people of this world. And very glad he was not in charge of finances or acquisitions in Hyrule. If the goblins were any indiction, haggling was definitely not his strong suit.)

The shop Lupin guided them to creaked with age. A fine layer of dust had settled with an air of permanence over the furniture and wares. No other customers were inside, making the place seem oddly empty and cluttered all at once.

It positively reeked of magic.

"Cypress and unicorn hair," a voice rang from behind one of the many packed shelves. Ollivander, the shop's proprietor, stepped into the dim light filtering through the windows. "Ten and a quarter inches. Rather pliable."

Lupin smiled wryly, unfazed by wandmaker's strange entrance. "Quite right," he said agreeably.

"And who might you be?" Watery blue eyes peered at the hylian behind strands of flyaway silver.

"Link. Hyrule," he added stiltedly. People here cared far more for surnames than the people of Hyrule, though given their sheer numbers, Link supposed they had reason enough.

"Most curious," the shopkeep muttered. Link held still under the intense scrutiny, even as an instrument twined around him, taking measurements for reasons he couldn't guess. It felt rather like he was going to have a frog shoved in his face again. "Wand hand?" Link obligingly held out his right.

The man spun away plucking a dusty box from the multitude of shelves seemingly at random and rather unceremoniously shoved a wand in his hands. "Perhaps this one." Link wasn't sure what he had expected, but the wand felt inert, lifeless. He hadn't so much as twitched a finger when Ollivander ripped it away, pushing another box at him. "English Oak, dragon heartstring. Ten and a half inches."

Link could feel a burning heat straight through the leather of his pack. He hastily dropped the wand, which sparked threateningly right back at the Master Sword.

"No, no, that won't do. Maple and unicorn hair. Thirteen and a quarter inch." And so it went. Either the wand itself seemed dissatisfied, or the Master Sword did, and Link had worked his way up to nearly a dozen wands before Ollivander handed him one that felt... well. It felt right. A gentle warmth cradled his hand and Link flicked the wand experimentally. Soft violet sparks rained from its tip.

A quiet, almost reluctant heat pulsed from his pack.

"Blackthorn and phoenix feather, thirteen inches. And yet this wand seems quite pleased already. You've faced a great many trials in your life, Mr. Hyrule," he murmured. "We must have high expectations for you, indeed."

Link wasn't sure how to take that, so he settled for nodding once. The wandmaker hummed thoughtfully. "That will be seven galleons, Mr. Hyrule."

They left the shop with little fanfare. That had been the last item on their list, so Link was surprised when Lupin led them, not to the exit, but to a small storefront selling... frozen cream?

"I hope you don't mind," Lupin said quietly, "but I would like to talk."

They sat at one of the outdoor tables, each with a scoop of what the mage had called chocolate ice cream. Lupin twirled his spoon absently over the cold treat.

"I trust Dumbledore's judgement," he started, "so when he says you can be trusted, know that I believe it."

Link took a bite. Oh, but that was good. He resolved right then and there to figure out how to make this chocolate ice cream so he could share some with Zelda.

"But Dumbledore has asked you to watch over Harry, and I'm not sure you know quite what you've signed up for."

The hylian merely hummed, scooping another bite. Mages were different, and he would undoubtedly need to prepare, but Link had been a knight for years. More than that, he'd been Zelda's personal guard.

Lupin grimaced. "Harry and his friends are clever. Too clever by far, braver than is healthy, and frightfully good at finding trouble. They don't trust easily, and saying anything is for their own good is as likely as not to put their guard up."

Also familiar. Link could hardly forget the months Zelda had spent resenting his presence, out of both misplaced jealousy and the confinement she felt at being guarded.

"So please, for their sake and yours, try not to let them get too involved in Order business. They've been lucky so far, but all three of them can be exceedingly reckless if they believe they have good reason for it." The scarred mage sighed. "Dumbledore has his reasons for keeping Harry in the dark, whatever they might be, and I can't fault him for doing what he must to keep them safe."

Link's spoon clanked as it hit the empty bowl. He manfully resisted the urge to pout. "I'll do all I can," he promised softly.

Lupin nodded gratefully. "That's all I ask." He glanced down with a quirked brow, amused, and pushed his untouched bowl toward the hylian.

Link didn't even hesitate.

There was a lot of work to be done. For Link, this meant studying through five years worth of magical material. He was sure he'd never read so much in his life; his father's homestead had contained barely half-a-dozen books. They'd traded them out with other families for new things to read on occasion, but housework and training had been altogether more important. In fact, if his father hadn't insisted, Link very likely would have been illiterate. To serve the royal family, he'd once said, he needed to train his mind as much as his body.

He was very, very grateful for his father.

For those seventeen and under, this meant cleaning. Harry, Hermione, Ron, the twins, and Ginny spent hours each day scouring rooms, collecting garbage, and disposing of pests. If the adults weren't too busy, they helped. Usually this meant Sirius Black, as the only wizard - Lupin had insisted on the term, rather than mage - over seventeen disallowed entirely from leaving the house.

Cleaning was distasteful. Link might have been grateful that his studying had been deemed more important, but he was growing more and more restless by the day. He simply wasn't used to this much inactivity, but the last time Mrs. Weasley had caught him going through his forms she'd shrieked about the dangers of "waving a great pointy stick about" for a solid five minutes, as though he were a child in desperate need of scolding.

Still, this was not his home, so he respected her wishes and contented himself with practicing bladeless. By all accounts Hogwarts was far more spacious. He was not so impatient that a few weeks would stress him unduly.

The rest of his time was utilized practicing magic. Link had at first been nervous to see whether he could actually cast the way these wizards did, but his fears were quickly put to rest. Many of the spells nestled in the pages of his grade 1-3 books were quite simple, and he had little trouble so long as he dedicated himself to practice. Defensive spells in particular came easily, a fact Link couldn't bring himself to be surprised over. Combat had always come naturally to him, and the rhythms of magical combat were merely different, not hard.

Charms, on the other hand, grew increasingly difficult the further he advanced. Many charms, he had found, were whimsical or simply lazy, neither of which impressed him much. As though the magic itself detected his lack of regard, spells he cast started functioning poorly. After nearly braining himself with a book attempting a summoning charm, Link decided to put off the charms work until he had more than his own assistance.

The other two practical (as Link thought of them) branches of magic, Transfiguration and Potions, were tricky. Potions not so much because of any inherent difficulty, but because he was hard-pressed to find the time and space to brew. It truly was a pity, as he'd been looking forward to comparing them with the elixers he'd made in Hyrule, and seeing how his own ingredients fared with the ones he'd purchased at the apothecary.

Transfiguration was... interesting. And about as practical as charms. Oh, he could focus well enough on the result he wanted. Link's ability to focus had never once been in question. No, it was what the goal actually was that hampered him here. While some of the spells he considered useful, a great many of them were simply bizarre. Creating matchsticks from kindling, that he could see the use for. When on earth would he need to turn a rat into a teacup? He could only imagine the face Zelda would make at drinking from a rat, of all things. That didn't stop the subject from being fascinating in its own right, but the hylian was stuck achieving mixed results in practice.

Link sighed tiredly. It had been just over three weeks since his trip to the Alley, and the constant reading and practice made it feel as though time were crawling, especially given how anxious he was to get to Hogwarts. Days had never felt so slow.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Link was being forced to stand still, and he hated it. Maybe he could have handled it, were Zelda by his side, sharing in the joy of learning. He had always fed off her enthusiasm, and she had been most passionate when given the thrill of discovery.

But Zelda wasn't here. She was where he was trying to go.

A harsh sob met his ears. The sound was faint, heard from quite the distance, but hylians had always had sharp hearing. There was a reason their ears were said to hear the voices of the goddesses.

Link stood warily, reaching into the pack he took with him everywhere and willing the Master Sword to his hand. The magic of the forest spirits held true, and the Blade slid easily to his waiting fingers.

He slipped soundlessly out of the library and up the stairs. Moody might have looked his way from where he was talking with Harry, but Link couldn't be sure. The man's eye was disturbing.

Mrs. Weasley was in the drawing room, visibly shaking as her wand jerked in an aborted spell. Ginny was lying on the floor, ashen and rigid with death. Link froze, blue eyes wide. How could he, could anyone in this house, have missed this? But no, hadn't he passed the girl on his way up? He hadn't looked.

"R-riddikulus," the matronly witch choked out through wracking sobs. The girl's body vanished with a loud crack, replaced instead with Ron's. Light footsteps tread behind them, but Link didn't bother to look.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry questioned weakly.

"Riddikulus," she whimpered again. Whatever spell she was trying to work simply failed, the body this time becoming Mr. Weasley. Link gripped her shoulder. He wasn't sure what was causing this, but felt confident now that the bodies were illusions of some sort. Mrs. Weasley wasn't handling them well though, so it would be best for her to withdraw.

He pulled her back, gently stepping in front of her in a familiar guard stance. The Master Sword shone palely with the power it had gained from his trials, but lacked the fierce glow it took in the face of evil. Something beast-like in him snarled, angry at the danger that had slipped his notice. Whatever it was, Link would handle it in her stead.

And then it changed.

Though still a person, the illusion was no longer a corpse. A youth stood in its place, blonde locks slightly darker than his wife's sunshine gold tumbling down her back. When she met his gaze, her eyes were blue. He knew those eyes. That petite nose, her proud brow. The confident quirk of her lips. Though he'd never seen her before, he knew intimately who she had to be. A little girl, Zelda, but not his Zelda, named for her mother, her mother's mother, a title and a name reaching past the founding of Hyrule and stretching all the way back to Hylia Herself.

The little girl he'd left behind, growing still within the Queen, his wife. Their daughter.

She tilted her head cutely, blue eyes blank with disintrerest. "/Who are you?/" she asked, Hylian crisp with the cultured accent of century-old nobility. There was nothing of his voice in hers, not the faint Zoran accent he'd gained from a childhood spent in the Domain, nor the softer consonants learned from his parents in Hateno.

Your father, he wanted to say. Your mother's husband. You know me. The words stuck in his throat. Dimly he heard Mrs. Weasley's sobs tapering to muted sniffles. The girl, this ghost of his future, did not seem to need to hear his voice.

"/Mother doesn't have a husband/," she said blithely, "/I have no father./" Link could no longer breathe, frozen in the choking horror clawing at his heart.

That's not true. You know me.

"Link? Link! What's wrong? Who is that?" Harry's hand was suddenly on his shoulder, the touch grounding. Link sucked in a shuddering breath. "Let someone else-"

"What's going on?"

Lupin. Lupin and Sirius (who had refused to answer when called Black, Link thought inanely) and Moody. Lupin, who smoothly inserted himself between Link and the apparition. It changed immediately into a pale orb, shining softly with reflected light.

"Riddikulus!" And just like that it was gone.

Mrs. Weasley burst into a fresh round of sobs, burying her face in the scarred wizard's shoulder. His face softened in sympathy, but Link couldn't focus on their conversation.

"First time dealing with a boggart, boy?" Moody asked gruffly.

"Boggart?" Link exhaled faintly.

"Dark creature. Takes the form of your worst fear," the wizard explained. He eyed the hylian critically for a long moment. "Come with me, I'll show you how to deal with them before I leave." Link nodded, following after the grizzled old wizard mechanically.

His worst fear. Link knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was true, because that little girl had been so breathtakingly real, so terrifyingly possible.

She was what would be, if Link couldn't find his way home.