AN-So Here's the next chapter. I know it wasn't as quick as the other two, but I'm back at work now and don't have as much time to work on it as I wish I did. This is the last chapter that will encompass all three worlds, and have as much jumping around and dis-jointedness as the others do. Chapter four will have everyone in relatively the same area, so it will flow better. This is a darker chapter, lots of angst for all involved, but it gets a little lighter as the rest of the story goes on, as Harry begins to realize his new destiny.

WARNING-The First hints of actual SLASH appear in this chapter. If you don't like SLASH, I don't know why you are reading this story at all, but you might want to back out now, if SLASH isn't your cup of tea.

Thanks for all the awesome reviews! They are what kept me working on this chapter when I got beyond frustrated. Sakura got a lot of IM's updating her on the number. I'm glad y'all are all enjoying it!

Thanks to Sakura for being an awesome beta/sounding board/kick in the pants. Without her, this chapter wouldn't have made it off the ground.

Disclaimer-I own nothing. Bandai owns Gundam Wing A/C, J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, and Jim Henson Productions owns Labyrinth. None of the aforementioned are me, as my lawyer keeps beating into my head :(

Chapter Three

Five Years Later
Preventors HQ
Former Sanq Kingdom

"Duo, he's not in there." Duo looked up from the papers he was studying, his eyes bloodshot and tiredness flooding every bit of his body. Trowa was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, looking just as tired as Duo himself felt. "We've finally found a birth certificate that's a possible match."

Duo stood up, energy flooding him as he bolted towards the door and down the hallway to where their base of operations for this particular mission had been for the last five years, Trowa hollering after for him to wait. There was a tone to the other pilots voice that he didn't like, that made him cringe away from the knowledge of what caused that tone, but he kept going.

If they found his son, he wanted to know.

He crashed through the door, sending it slamming back into the wall behind it, and froze as three pairs of eyes, Quatre's red rimmed and tear filled, pinned him.

Then he knew.

He knew that all the searching, all the sleepless nights over the last five years had been for nothing.

Their son was dead, and none of them had ever gotten the chance to know him.

The braided pilot sank into the closest chair his shaking legs could carry him to, and stared at his brothers-in-arms. He didn't shift as Trowa came in, shutting the door behind him and sliding into a seat next to Wufei, taking the other pilots hand in a death grip. Whether that was to comfort himself, or his boyfriend, no one cared.

"How?" Duo hated how broken his voice was. He had never met the child, never been able to be a parent, the loss shouldn't be hitting him as hard as it was now.

"We don't know" Quatre's voice was teary, and he wrapped his arms around himself in comfort as the tears flowed down his face unchecked. "Af…After we didn't find a match in the DNA files, after searching for so long, we started going through death certificates," Duo saw Wufei flinch as if struck and Trowa's arm wrap around him possessively, pulling the smaller pilot fully into his lap. Long ago, they would have expected Wufei to flail and physically attack someone who even attempted it, but the years had calmed the pilot down, and he willingly curled into his protector, "And we found one for Lily Evans Potter, filed one year after the date of the last appointment in M's file. We compared the DNA found to the one in the file, and it was a match. Right behind that was a certificate for her son, Harry James Potter. He died…" Heero jumped from his seat and began to pace, his hands clenched into fists that Duo was sure would draw blood if he kept it up, and Quatre took a second to gather himself, "He died on his eleventh birthday. The year we started looking for him"

Duo closed his eyes and wept.

The room was silent for hours, only broken by the sounds of sobs and pacing from the five of them, before Wufei gathered control of himself and looked up at the others. His eyes were determined, and he climbed off the clown's lap, putting his hands down on the table in front of him and studying the rest of the room.

"How? How did...Harry...die?" the name was foreign to them, they had all decided on a name to call the boy when they first found out about him, a way to make him real in their minds when they first started this mad search for someone who may or may not exist. "Was there a cause of death?"
Quatre looked up from his folded arms, his face blotchy and snot running from his nose. He was a far cry from the composed 28 year old CEO of the biggest corporation in the ESUN, but a fire burned in his blue eyes, promising to consume anything that stood in his way to getting answers.

"It didn't say, it was just a birth and death date. We assume its from a coroner who was used to working in the war." It had been common practice before the war ended to not worry about cause of death. The Coroners had been over worked, most just signing names to pieces of paper that were already prepared. There were still numerous graves with just a date of death, no identification found for the poor souls who lay underneath it. The FRA had done much for that, identifying millions of soldiers and civilians so they could be given proper burials, but there were still so many that rotted in the ground with no one to claim them.

Wufei paced back and forth, stepping nimbly around the Perfect Soldier who hadn't stopped since he started, and came back to the table, clearly thinking something over.

"But, the date on the certificate says that it was signed four-five years ago, after the war was over. No Coroner on record was using War methods anymore. Why was this one?"

There was silence after his proclamation, as the facts turned over and over in their heads, before Heero came to the same decision.

"It's a fake. Faked by someone who doesn't know anything about the protocols now. They are working off of War Time, and haven't had a reason to check and see if changes have been made. They are either very stupid, or extremely smart. We never would have noticed, if there hadn't been a reason for us to look for this very certificate." A slow smile crossed the Perfect Soldier's face, and he crossed to take Duo's shoulder, shaking it until the other pilot stopped his crying and looked up at him. "He may still be alive."

The room erupted into a flurry of movement, none of them wanting to pass up the second chance that they may have just been given. Heero slid his ever present laptop out of his bag and quickly bypassed the firewalls he'd installed around the Preventor's database, accessing the Death Certificate that still covered him in a cold sweat when he thought about it. He had been the one to find it, and he could still remember the cold dread and anger that settled in his stomach. He may never have thought he would be a father, but he would move heaven and earth for this child that he had never met, and if there was a chance that his son was still alive, Heero would find him, and nothing on earth would hurt the boy again.

Heero went through the files, finding the one for the child's mother, who he held a soft spot for. They may never have met, never would on this earth, but she had carried their child, and that made her important. If someone had murdered her, they would get revenge.

She deserved that much at least.

"Lily Evans Potter" he read aloud, skipping past the birth and death dates, until an anomaly reported at the bottom of the page caught his attention, "There is another death certificate than the one originally found." He could feel Quatre coming behind him, the scent of his signature scent wafting through the air.

Heero tried not to gag.

Expensive it may be, but Heero would never get used to one of his comrades wearing something that gave away his position so easily.

And did it have to be so strong? Heero fought back the sneeze, and tried to focus.

"This one is from when she's eleven as well" Quatre tugged a chair over and sat down, looking at the files while the others did nothing but move. He wasn't sure why they were moving around when they really had nothing to do. "Heero." Said pilot turned his head to study the blond, who had a serious look on his face, "You added a search feature, correct?"

Heero nodded. It had made sense to be able to search the entire database for what he wanted, but he didn't think he would have ever been using it to search for his child's death certificate, or anything of the sort.

"Search for other deaths that occurred on a child's eleventh birthday". Heero frowned, but did as ordered, having to be creative with the terms entered into the search field to pull up the results that he wanted. After a good half hour of searching, the energy and the restlessness in the room dissipated to quiet watchfulness, he had compiled a list of over three hundred children dead on their eleventh birthday from the last thirty years.

With the war, it was more difficult to pinpoint exactly how many, there were probably more, but that was more than enough to show a pattern.
The weirdest thing, however, was almost a third of those children proclaimed dead, showed up seven to ten years later, victims of 'paperwork errors'.

One or two a year, believable.

A dozen a year, and something wasn't quite right. Even with the war, that was almost impossible.

Something was definitely going on, something big.

And until they found out exactly what was going on, he was going to assume that Harry was out there, somewhere, alive.
And he would be found.

Starting with "Petunia Evans Dursley, sister to Lily Evans Potter. Guardian of one Harry James Potter. Alive." Heero's voice was stoic as he read he file, and he was already moving before he finished speaking.

The room emptied in less than three minutes.

Arabella Figg always went about her morning routine with a smile on her face. She had always been a happy person, and staying on her schedule made her happier than anything, because it meant nothing had gone wrong the night before.
It was the same every morning, never altered unless things were FUBAR, which on this street, was more than a usual experience. So any morning she could stay on track was more than a win in her mind.

On this particular morning, however, she woke up with the feeling that something was going to go wrong. Arabella got out of bed, grabbing her wand and sliding it in her pocket for the first time in months. Since her charge had gone off to Hogwarts again for his fourth year, she'd had no reason to carry it around. When Potter wasn't around, she was a lot more relaxed than she ever could be when he was.

After all, she had to make sure that that...child, didn't slip the leashes she and her boss had been placing on him since he first arrived on Privet Drive.

As she shooed the cats out the back door to have a look around the neighborhood, and put the kettle on to boil, kicking the door to the refrigerator closed after she put the milk on the table, she froze, feeling something...strange crossing the wards. She pulled her wand out, crossing towards the door. Whatever IT was, it was heading towards the front door at a very steady pace.

She was reaching towards the simple gold knob, her wand still held defensively, when the person reached the doorstep.

And Knocked.

Arabella jumped, a scream nearly ripping itself from her throat, before she laughed at herself. She was part of the Defense League, she shouldn't be scared about someone knocking on her door.

It was probably just a mail man, with an above average squib core.

That was all, it was nothing else.

She plastered a smile on her face and pulled open the door, prepared to come face to face with a stack of bills and junk that she didn't need.

She was not prepared for HIM.

He exuded magic, it poured from every inch of his body, and she found herself cringing back.

He was Angry, and that anger was focused all on her.

"Ca…Can I help you?" He just raised an eyebrow, his mismatched pupils dilating as he inhaled like some lizard scenting the air for a threat.

Or prey.

And Arabella just felt like Prey.

And then he smiled, and her heart nearly stopped.

This man was dangerous.

"I presume you are Arabella Figg?" his voice was cultured, exotic, and made her weak at the knees.

Not all of that was fear she was ashamed to admit.

"Yes." she gathered her strength, forcing her fear out of her voice. If she was going to go down, she was going to go down fighting, or at least not afraid. "I ask again, can I help you?"

He just smiled, a smile she was beginning to hate, and put his hand on the door, pushing past her and closing the hardwood barrier behind him, hiding them from view and any help that could have come from the outside world. Arabella could feel the wards settle back into place as if they had never been disturbed in the first place, and she backed up, the wand in her hand coming up fluidly to point between his eyes. The rest of her body may be quaking in suppressed terror, but her wand hand was steady as a rock. If she could rely on nothing else, she could rely on her training to pull her through any situation.

"Yes you can, Arabella. You can relinquish the title and deed to this house."

Her jaw dropped and she stared at the stranger as if he had grown a second head and a fourth arm.

Her house?

This was all about her house?

"I'm sorry, the house is NOT for sale. I don't know who told you it was, but they were mistaken." She forced a glare on her face, though she was trembling with fear. She didn't know who this man was, though there was a niggling sense at the back of her brain that she should, that she should recognize him for some reason that she couldn't quite grasp. "Now I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

The stranger just laughed.

"You don't understand me, Arabella. You don't have a choice. I want this house, for reasons that are none of your concern, and I aim to have it, no matter what your concerns are. If you refuse to sell, and I plan on paying you handsomely, I'm afraid that you won't like the consequences." he showed his teeth, "Goblin Prisons are not the...nicest...of accommodations, and I assure you that I have enough charges to put you away for life. Not that I need them."

Goblins...

Who this stranger was clicked into her mind, and she stumbled backwards, her wand dropping to the floor as she tried to put whatever furniture she could between herself and that man.

The Goblin King.

And magic's mate to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.
It was carefully guarded knowledge in the upper echelons of the Ministry, comprising of a whole five people, that Harry Potter was mated to the King, and they had done everything in their power to make sure the Boy Who Lived never found out.

After all, it would ruin all of their plans if the brat had someone in his corner who would be able to ferret out and defend against all the plans that they had had in motion since the boy defeated Voldemort.

But now the King knew and everything was going to Hades.
"Stay back. I warn you, I am a councilor to Minister Fudge and a member of the Dark Arts Defense League, any harm done to me will result in your instant incarceration and Kiss under the Control of Magical Creatures Act 74, page 873, paragraph 4 subsection C."

Jareth the Goblin King just shook his head, leaning against the closed door in too relaxed of a pose to indicate that he had any intention of going anywhere, anytime soon.

"I have never been one for keeping up with your world, Arabella, but I have only one thing to say to That little slice...if you try to incarcerate me, your ministry will not survive the war that follows. The Goblins will make your Lord…Voldemort...problem look like a kindergarten scuffle. Now, be a good girl and hand over that deed."

She stood in indecision, turning the options over in her head.

On one hand, Cornelius was going to have her shipped off the the filing department of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, under that imbecile Arthur Weasley if she let the chance to keep Potter under control slip from her fingers like butter.

On the other hand, starting a war with the Goblin Nation by refusing to sell her house, when the Goblins controlled every bit of the wealth in the Wizarding World, would have her lynched by the general public before Fudge could get hold of her.

It wasn't a good choice either way around.

"Well? I am waiting." she looked up, meeting his eyes full on, and made her decision. She had not worked this hard over the last thirteen years to have all of that go to waste.

"I'm sorry, this house is not for sale."

He smiled the sharks grin again, and snapped his fingers.

"I had hoped you would say that. You have a lot to answer for, Arabella Malfoy Figg" she shuddered at hearing her true surname. She had fought long and hard to forget where she came from, forget the upbringing she'd had, and it was a blow to her pride for this...thing, to bring it up as if it was public knowledge.

"Do what you want. My conscious is clear." she raised her chin to him, steadfast in the knowledge that she was doing what was right for the world she loved with every breath, even as the goblin warriors filled the room, nasty weapons made for bloodshed and torture held in clawed hands. Arabella stayed silent and strong, even as those hands wrapped around her limbs, restraining her cruelly and tightly, never wavering even as they dropped her to a circular room, closing the lid on her cell with cackling glee.

It wasn't until they had walked away, leaving her, forgotten, in the oubliette, that her composure broke and she wept for her predicament.

She died six months later, a dried out husk of her former self, her magic totally drained.

Jareth paid no more attention to the former owner of his new home as she was dragged to the Underground by members of his elite guard, turning his concentration to the interior of his new acquisition.

His upper lip curled as he took in his surroundings. It was very mundane, very normal, very drab, only his Fae sight picking up the subtle tints of magic that infused the air.

It was enough to drive him mad. He was a Fae, magic flowed through his very veins. He couldn't imagine his mate growing up next door to this place, unable to feel the subtle caress of Magic herself.

What was Albus Dumbledore thinking, having the boy grow up away from magic? Everyone who knew anything about magical children, especially those from pureblood lineage's, knew that the presence of magic in the air was as important as oxygen. Depriving a child of that saturation would rob them of their natural strength.

Which was why Cornelius Fudge had supported Harry's placement here, the king had no doubts. He had done his digging over the past few years, in between observing his young mate, trying to keep what he could from destroying the child, to fighting off an invasion from Medusa who thought his distraction with his mate made it a good time to invade.

He would think about giving her kingdom back in a few years, but right now he enjoyed having her as a motionless statue in the middle of the labyrinth. He'd heard that she was quite the popular lady with the local bird population.

"Sire?", Hoggle's voice came from directly behind him, and Jareth turned slowly around, barely paying any attention to what his secretary of state was actually saying, his mind occupied with redecorating 6 Privet Drive into something more worthy of himself. "Sire!"

Jareth startled as Hoggle's irritated voice made it through his concentration, and he looked down at the short Goblin.

'What is it Hoggle?" He smirked as the Goblin rolled his eyes, his eyes skirting from the creature to the couch angled in the corner. He could imagine a roaring fireplace on the far wall, spending lazy days curled on the couch with Harry, making sure nothing happened to him that he didn't want, ever again. It was a pipe dream, and Jareth knew he would never be able to protect the Boy Who Lived from everything and everyone that would be out to get him.

It was a nice thought anyway.

"Harry has gotten on the train. He'll be here in thirteen hours."

Jareth smiled, a content smile. Thirteen hours, how appropriate.

In little more than half a day, he would have his mate within his sphere of influence, and the Wizarding World would begin to pay for everything they had done to the one person they were supposed to protect.

And it would be his pleasure to insure that they paid double.

"Shall we introduce ourselves to the neighbors then?"

Vernon Dursley felt horrible. His head was stuffed with cotton wool, his throat felt like raw sandpaper, and he'd hacked up a lung three or four times over the last twenty four hours.

Having the flu, according to his son, sucked. Vernon found that he agreed.

He grabbed another tissue, using it and tossing it into the wastebasket full of its fellows. He was stretched out on the couch, wrapped in a robe with fluffy house shoes on his feet, hoping that his headache would give him some respite before Petunia came back with the boys in tow. He didn't think that he could face Harry, feeling like this, without the spell forcing him to do something dire. He crushed his fist around the tea mug held in his hand, only to put it down moments later, cursing as the mug burned his hand, and the doorbell rang almost simultaneously. He nursed his hand as he headed towards the door, pulling it open irritably.

He was not in the mood for this. Having the new, odd, neighbor over for a brief tea early in the morning had been enough of a visitation for the day, even with Petunia there to keep things flowing. He was simply too ill to make heads or tails of anything anyone had to say.

"May I help you? This is a very inco…" His words trailed off as he caught sight of the five uniformed men standing on his doorstep. Each one of them looked deadly in their own right, weapons in clear sight in holsters at their sides, but it wasn't the weapons that got his attention the most. It was the insignia on the uniform jackets that they wore.

Preventors.

The large man stepped aside, without another word, ushering the five Agents in.

They entered without a word, the braided one closing the door behind the group with an almost ominous click, eying him up and down.

"Vernon Dursley?" Vernon shivered, forcing himself to stand tall and not shrink back from the icy glare of the one who spoke. He may have the flu, but he was not going to look weak in front of official agents.

"Yes, Officer. May I offer you five a seat while we discuss...whatever the problem is?" He turned and shuffled back to the couch, moving his sick supplies away so that there were clear spaces for the officers to sit down without being infected, but he didn't miss the disgust on their faces, or the fact that three of them remained standing, including the one who had spoken to him. There was something...familiar, about all of the officers, like he had seen them before, maybe passing in the street, but this one. This one was like looking at someone he knew as well as he knew himself.

But he couldn't for the life of him remember who it was.

"I apologize for the mess, I have been ill with the flu for the last several days. May I ask what this is about?" He slipped into his professional mode, trying to keep himself collected for whatever they may have to say. He hoped it wasn't his family, the mere thought sending his heart racing and he collapsed in a coughing fit. No one made a move to touch him until he sat up, wiping the back of his mouth free of spittle.

As soon as he gained control of himself, the interrogation began.

"Mr. Dursley, your wife is Petunia Evans, correct?" The blond one, the most composed out of the five, started immediately, and Vernon breathed a sigh of relief that someone else had taken over the interrogation, he didn't think he could handle it.

He was frightening, and Vernon did not frighten easily.

"Yes, she is. She's not in any trouble is she?" he could feel his heart start to race again, and he fought to control it. "And Dudley? Is my son alright?"

Five pairs of eyes pinned him, and the blond one spoke again.

Vernon knew that not introducing themselves was an intimidation tactic, and it worked very very well. He didn't know if he was speaking to a lowly filing clerk, or the head of the organization themselves.

"Mr. Dursley, your son and wife are fine, I presume, though I had hoped to find your wife at home. We are here about your nephew, one Harry James Potter." There was raw emotion in the officers voice when he spoke Harry's name, but Vernon couldn't place what it was.

"What do you want to know about Harry? He's not in any trouble is he?" Harry was at that…school, for most of the year, Vernon couldn't imagine what he had gotten into that would have gotten the attention of the Preventors. They usually just handled terrorist threats, and fall out from the wars, not normal civilian matters.

The reaction to his words was immediate. All five of his visitors tensed, the one sitting across from him jumping to his feet. They seemed surprised by his words.

"Trouble?" The man was Chinese, but there was no trace of an accent, just pure determination. "You mean, Harry James Potter is alive?"

It would be a very bad thing to lie, Vernon knew that immediately, and so it was a surprise when he opened his mouth, ready to dispute that his nephew wasn't dead, couldn't be dead, dread filling his gut, it came out completely different.

"Of course he is, and good riddance too."

Pain blossomed along his jaw, his left ear beginning to ring and the world beginning to tilt on its axis. He flopped back against the bed, bringing his hand up to cradle his jaw as best he could, as he watched through blurry eyes as two of the officers wrestled the one who'd just hit him into his kitchen.

"Mr. Dursley." The blond and ice eyes were left, and the blond was the one who was speaking. The other was too busy taking Vernon apart with his eyes, looking like he knew a million ways to kill a man, and wanted to try out some of the nastier one on Vernon's person.

Vernon didn't blame him, he'd given a lie that a four year old would see through, and he had no idea how or why he did it. Harry was alive, why in the name of God would Vernon say he wasn't? Even They wouldn't make him admit that when it wasn't true.

Would they?

"Mr. Dursley!" a hand made of iron came down on his shoulder, squeezing to the point of pain, but bringing him out of his whirling thoughts. The blond was in his face now, blue eyes cold and seeing straight through him. "Why would you lie to official agents? You admitted Harry" again the odd crack of the voice on his nephews name that he couldn't figure out, "is alive. After all a corpse couldn't get in any kind of trouble, and then you point blank lie to one of my companions. You do realize we are Preventors Agents, and you can spend a long, long time in Jail for lying to a government official and concealing a crime. Now, we'll only ask one more time before you are called up on charges. Is your Nephew alive?"

Yes.

"No! That no good rotten freak is dead, has been for years."

The hand on his shoulder gripped past the point of pain, combining with the throbbing in his slowly swelling jaw to send him almost reeling towards unconsciousness. Only a sharp slap to the other side of his face brought him back, and he could only whimper as he stared at the men above him, his pride forgotten and lying on the floor.

"Mr. Dursley! We know you are lying, why will you not admit that Harry James Potter is alive? You will be saving yourself a lot of pain." Calling him up on charges seemed to be a forgotten, as they settled into good old fashioned torture to get the answers that they wanted.

It didn't matter how many times they asked the question, how many bones they broke, the answer was always the same.

"No! He's dead, dead I tell you! This is Police Brutality!"

The man who originally hit him was no where to be seen during his 'interrogation', neither was the blond once the real beating began, but the one with the long braid leaning down and whispering savagely in his ear, seeming to enjoy his pain.

'But We aren't the Police, Dursley, and I can assure you that everyone will look the other way, no matter what we do to you. No one wants to get on our bad side."

His arm was snapped underneath a ruthless foot, fingers bent and broken, but still the answer was always a lie, no matter what way they posed the question, and he could not get his vocal cords to cooperate with what his brain told him was true.

It was the same feeling that he got when Harry was around, the inability to control his mind, his very body.

Were Wizards Responsible for this as well?

Vernon just curled up as much as his broken, flu ridden body would allow, protecting his vital areas as much as they would allow him to. Petunia would be home with the boys soon, and while he did not want any of them to see him as he was, broken and bleeding on the floor, they would be able to see with their own eyes that Harry was indeed alive, and things would be figured out.

He just hoped that he could hold on until then.

After what seemed like years, but could have been hours or even minutes, the sound of a car pulling up outside reached his ears, along with his wife's scolding voice as she lectured one or both of the boys about how to act when they saw Vernon.

The Preventors stopped, all three standing up and straightening their uniform jackets like they had not just been beating an ill civilian down to his component parts, the black of the uniforms hiding the blood stains like they didn't exist.

Vernon just closed his eyes and prayed that seeing Harry would be enough for these men, that they would not feel the need to hurt his family to prove something that was right in front of their eyes.

"Harry get the door!" With the last bit of the lecture done, the door knob began to turn, and the house as a whole held its breath.

The door came open, and Harry stepped inside, dragging his trunk behind him, his owl cage held loosely in the same hand as he juggled opening the door for his aunt and cousin. He stopped in the doorway, his mouth opening in shock as he took in the tableau in front of him.

It took him three seconds to analyze the situation, before his mouth opened and a scream poured out.

AN-This is short, and I've had to upload it three or four times because the document manager has been giving me fits all day, but hopefully this will have fixed all of the blatant problems. The chapter is a cliffy, but will be worth it in the next chapter. I couldn't keep dragging it on, or it wouldn't end for another 7000 words haha. Harry will be fully in the next chapter, which I almost have planned out, but this is the last background chapter, i can almost promise.

Enjoy, and read and review!

S