AN-This is, now, the ONLY fanfiction I am working on. Its only thanks to my beta, and the awesome reviews I'm getting for this story, that have kept me working on it.

FOR THE RECORD: I HAVE NEVER PLAGIARIZED IN MY LIFE. I use plot bunnies, given to me by other authors, on occasion, like this one. Which is from Ammie Hawk, who has her own version of this. SOOO, to that Certain reviewer, who knows very well who he is, this is NOT a plagiarized story!

Also, this is dedicated to the Lovely Mabidiso, who's review gave me some motivation to get this story updated again. Thanks a ton for all awesome reviews!

And thanks to the rest of you amazing reviews, just letting me know you enjoyed it, made me amazingly happy. I'm glad this story is being enjoyed by someone.

Disclaimer-I OWN NOTHING! All recognizable characters and situations are property of their original owners, who are not me unfortunately.

Now that is done, on with the chapter!

Chapter Four

He didn't know what to do. There were no mission guidelines, no probability percentages of success or failure, nothing had he had to do to complete this mission. There were no life experiences that he could pull off of either, just a big blank during the most important moment of his life.

Heero stood there, staring blankly, as the rest of the pilots banged ineffectively on the barrier, a barrier that shouldn't exist, that surrounded their sobbing son. He couldn't move, his feet felt glued to the floor, ignoring his commands for the first time that he could remember.

The Dursleys were just as distraught, the wife not knowing if she should be more concerned about her now unconscious husband, or her hysterical nephew, settling for standing in between the two like a helpless butterfly, though she didn't attempt to touch either of them, keeping her overweight son tucked close to her side, never mind the fact that he was old enough to face life, and this situation, by himself.

Heero could now understand that feeling, he thought absently as he sank down to the floor to observe the treasure that was just out of his reach, his legs unable to support his weight any longer.

The Boy had his messy hair, he could tell right off the bat as his eyes began to soak in the details that he could see, hungrily. It stuck up in all directions, probably just as untamable as his own chocolate locks. The color was all Wufei's, dark as pitch with a glint of color that keep it looking glossy, not drab, and he imagined that it was just as silky. From what he had seen in the brief glance that they had had of his face, Duo reflected there. The build was all Quatre's, slight but able to deliver punishing blows if the need arose, though if he was anything like the Arabian, violence would be a last resort.

And the eyes. The Eyes were all Trowa's, down to the last specks, and the ability to pierce your soul with a glance, and find you wanting. Heero's breath had caught in his throat when those eyes landed on him, widening in horror as their owner took in the bloodshed in front of him.

He was a perfect blending of all of them, and the most important thing they had ever done and ever would do, even if it hadn't been willingly or knowingly. that didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that he was alive, and he was just in front of them.

They could find out which traits were their, and which traits were purely his later, now they had to calm him down before the shield turned inwards and hurt him. If it could. They didn't know anything about the shield, it could be weapon or defense, but none of them were going to take any chances with their son, anymore than they already had anyway.

Heero crept forward, trying to look as non intimidating as possible, ignoring the quiet that swept the room as he moved closer and closer to the barrier, the others moving back to give him room. He stopped a hairs breadth from touching the barrier, his knees close enough to skim it as he settled into a comfortable position, just waiting patiently. He had a lifetime, and he would wait in this spot until Harry looked up.

It was almost an hour later, that the screams and sobs quieted down, collapsing into small gasps and shaking shoulders. And still Heero sat exactly where he was, ignoring the others who came towards him with a glass, until they slunk away again. Harry had still not looked up from his bent knees, and so his mission was not yet complete.

That was more than Heero could take. He would not fail, failure was not an option, and so he reached out, telling himself that the hand that moved was no shaking, couldn't be shaking, laying it gently against the barrier, fighting every instinct not to try and beat through it like the others had. They hadn't gotten very far, and he had no information that would say he would fare any better.

he just rested it there, his eyes fixed on the now silent ball of misery.

'Look at me kid.' he bent his every through to Harry, trying to get his head to lift, to just let them see he was still sane and whole, that they hadn't broken him before they ever knew him.

And it worked. Heero knew it wasn't his thoughts that did it, no one was telepathic, but his silent presence must have gotten through to the boy somehow.

harry slowly lifted his head off of his knees, big green eyes teary and red-rimmed, but still the best thing Heero had ever laid eyes on. He felt a steal band clench around his heart at the thought of his son's pain, but kept it locked away. They had already made such a bad impression on him, acting like hysterical women wouldn't endear them to the boy.

Harry just stared at him, and the hand that pressed against the barrier that still separated them. The skin of his forehead wrinkled, Heero squashed down the thought that said it was a cute wrinkle, seemingly confused as to why everyone was staring at him.

Prussian Blue met Emerald Green solidly for a few seconds, before Heero felt a body move up behind him, and he tensed, ready to spring. Everyone in the room was a potential enemy, even his brothers who he knew wouldn't hurt the boy for anything on Earth. It was just instinct.

"Harry. Let It Go." Heero didn't take his eyes off of Harry as Petunia spoke, her voice strangely calm.

harry slowly shook his head, his eyes flitting to the still unconscious form of his Uncle. His eyes were still frightened, becoming more so by the moment as he took in the figures that were scattered around his Living Room. Heero could see the look of remembrance coming into his eyes, as he remembered the scene he'd come into when he'd opened the door. He shrank back against the wall, again, his head heading back down towards his knees, and Heero couldn't stomach that thought again.

"Please don't." It was soft, his voice breaking on the last word, though he would deny it to his last living breath. His programming couldn't keep up with the emotions and stimulus that he was being hit with from every side, and he felt his sanity beginning to unthread bit by bit, but his words got the attention of who it was supposed to.

Harry's head jerked back up, his eyes wide with surprise, flinching back as if struck when he caught site of the look on Heero's face. He began to shake his head rapidly from side to side, his body starting to convulse as adrenaline flooded his system. His breathing accelerated, showing classic signs of hyperventilation, his face draining of blood as his body fought to control his breathing.

The room erupted into noise for a second time, as they started to fight against the shield, that was now pulsing outwards. It became opaque, causing panic to course through the room as Harry's form was completely obscured from their view. Heero was pushed back to be with the others, climbing to his feet when the movement of the shield finally stopped, sending out a strong pulse whenever one of them stepped towards it.

Duo summed up their situation, in his normal, too blunt, way.

"Fuck."

The room stood motionless to the outside observer, but one who knew the pilots well could see the small twitches that gave away their tension and desire to act. Something the shield seemed to pick up on as well, pulsing stronger and stronger with each small movement until they were all pressed against the wall, except for Vernon Dursley who had been absorbed by the shield as if he wasn't even there.

'What do we do mum?" Dudley Dursley broke the silence, clutching at his mother. He seemed especially scared of the shield, though he was doing his best to try and hide it. Heero's opinion of the child went up a few notches.

"I...I don't know Dudley." The woman's voice was dead, her consciousness retreating behind a wall to protect herself. Heero had seen enough civilians doing it during the war to recognize it right off the bat. She would walk, she would talk, but the real Petunia Evans Dursley was no longer there.

Seeing her nephew in a shield that no one could breech, her husband beat to a motionless pulp by members of the law, and her son in possible danger, that she just couldn't cope.

Whether she came back from it, or not, only time could tell. No doctors in the ESUN had ever found a cure for the condition, psychiatrists only had a 3% success rate in bringing the patients back when they weren't ready to come back, and so there was nothing that they could do. When this was all over, Petunia would have to be hospitalized to prevent harm to those around her from her absent personality, and the rest of the Dursleys would be left to cope as they could. Heero supposed that normal humans would feel bad about that, but his only priority was Harry.

He was all that mattered, and he was sure that the rest of the pilots would agree with him.

KNOCK KNOCK

Petunia moved woodenly towards the door, stepping around the trained killers in her house like she no longer saw them. In all probability she she didn't even see them anymore. Her only driving force was too keep her world stable and from falling apart.

She pulled the door open in a jerky movement, plastering her best housewife smile on her face, and greeting the visitor without any indication that anything was wrong inside the house.

"Hello Mr King! It's so good to see you, but I'm afraid that this is not a good time."

There was no response from the guest, only a gloved hand pushing her gently aside and stepped inside the house without so much as a by your leave. His eyes, mismatched and strange, skipping smoothly from one angry face to the next, ignoring the angry preventor's agents as if he didn't even see them, and landing squarely on the shield, an eyebrow raising and a self satisfied smirk appearing as he took in the golden glow.

"Powerful indeed. And this strong, on fear alone? Imagine the Power if he meant to do this." He moved to put a hand on the shield, but stopped at the sound of clicking.

The stranger turned slowly, allowing two figures to slide in between him and the last known position of Harry's, leaving the stranger circled in a ring of guns.

He just laughed, seemingly delighted.

"Well we are protective, now aren't we? Good. That makes me less likely to do something we would both regret." He moved towards the couch, sitting down on it and crossing a leg, tapping it along to a beat that no one else could hear. "Put those away children. And you may just get some answers about your son."

Dr. M skulked down the corridor, ducking into dark corners when the voices of soldiers reached his ears. He waited, each time, until the voices moved on, to continue on his way. He needed these mindless bullies, for his own intents and purposes, after all he had to have a war to pit his creation against, to prove that the child was far greater than the sum of the father's, and so he had to put up with them until that was accomplished. Until he could push his puzzle pieces into the correct places, create the right situations and problems, he couldn't spare the time and the suspicion that would come from pointless questioning about him being on a deck that he technically didn't have the clearance to be on.

M ducked around the last corner, and stepped into section Z, straightening from his slinked, semi crouched, position when he was far enough from the exit to not be suspicious, twirling over the information he'd gathered in his mind.

He wasn't sure, exactly, if it was good or bad news, but at least it was news of some sort. He'd had previous little of either over the years since his creation had disappeared.

But THEY weren't supposed to find him first. That messed up every plan he had laid to deal with the boy when he was found. If they taught him, made him think that he had a life all his own, past what fourteen years on the outside had already give him, it would be much harder to beat his true purpose into him.

M's hand clenched into fists at his side when he thought of what his creation was thinking.

He, IT, wasn't supposed to think. Period. The only thing in his head was supposed to be the training M would give him, and his orders. He wasn't supposed to think, wasn't supposed to feel, all he was supposed to do was follow orders. M's orders to be exact.

M had created him, engineered him, owned him. The Doctor didn't care what genetics said, what the law would say once they found out what had gone on, the Potter boy was his to do with as he pleased.

Anything else was unacceptable, and he was not going to allow it.

M would just have to come up with a plan to reprogram the boy when the time came.

And it would come soon.

He passed the hanger door, taking a moment to peer in and examine his greatest triumph.

Ravage was everything his brother Gundams were, and then more. M had toiled for years, picking and choosing the best elements from the previous plans, fitting them into the frame like a puzzle.

It had been frustrating work, slow and torturous at the beginning once he no longer had the resources the other Dr's had been able to pull from. The Gundanium had been especially hard for him to acquire at first. The sources that the others had used, had long since dried up, and he'd had to use an old, abandoned frame, the others had once considered for Wing.

It stung his pride, but out of all the previous gundams, Wing was by far the superior specimen, so it stood to reason that he not complain too much.

Besides, his alterations were enough to correct the inherent failures in the system.

Ravage would be unbeatable, undefeatable, a fearsome force that would strike awe and terror into the public.

M continued on his way, satisfied in Ravage even if he wasn't satisfied in its pilot.

A few more nudges, a push or two here and there, and things would be ready to go.

Content in that thought, M waited for the door to his quarters to slide open, cursing under his breath as the old circuits took a minute to recognize that someone was there waiting for entrance. He didn't know if he was placed in the oldest section of the base, or if it was just a general malfunction that affected the whole base, but either way it was irritating.

When they finally whirred open, M let out a cry of outrage.

"How the Hell did you get in?" The two women sitting in this common room just smiled, setting tea cups he knew he didn't own, down on a table he'd never seen before. He made no motion to step into the room. M had no doubts that his superiors would send people in to shake him up, make him jumpy. They needed him too much to outright challenge him, but that didn't spare him from their little power games.

"Stop being silly M, and come in. You're letting the draft in. It's already cold enough." The portly woman was the first to speak, her flyaway hair grey streaked and pulled back into a bun on the back of her head, hair still escaping the order she tried to tame it with.

M stepped slowly into the room, waiting for the door to slide shut behind him.

It did so, sluggishly, and with a grating whine that had him shooting a look over his shoulder as the sound shot into his ear drum, causing him to wince

As soon as he found out what this was all about, and why this...women, were taking up his room, he would have to get the maintenance department down here, ASAP. They weren't going to tell him it was nothing this time, they were going to take the circuitry about until they found exactly what the problem was and fixed it, once and for all. He put up with a lot of things on this second rate base, but he was not going to tolerate malfunctioning machinery any longer.

Not when the next thing that malfunctioned could be a part working on Ravage.

That was unacceptable.

'Sit. Down. Michaels. We will not ask you again.' The second woman gave a pointed look at the sofa across from them, the threat in her voice coming through clearly..and very intimidating, despite the rather hilarious getup she had clothed herself in.

Seriously, who wore a scarf and sunglasses big enough to hide her entire face, inside? Especially on a colony, where the sunlight was never bright enough, or produced enough of a glare, to make sunglasses practical?

He sat.

'Good choice, Dr. Michaels. Or do you prefer just Dr. M? I think that's what you...Gundam builders, refer to yourselves as? Just a letter?'

M blinked.

'How did you know that? No one knows that! Except for those other bastards, and they're all dead!' He didn't mention the pilots. Old habits died hard, and though he hated those children soldiers almost as much as he hated their creators, it wasn't in his programming to let classified information slip to unknown elements.

Now, if they were useful, then it became a whole new ball game, to use an antiquated term.

Until then, he would keep his secrets close and to himself.

'How we know doesn't matter. All that matters, is that we know. And we also know, about your lovely little experiment. Got away from you, has he?' Her smile was cruel, cold, and more knowing than he liked to think about. 'That must be causing you all sorts of trouble.' She smirked at him, shooting a sharp, knife edged look at her companion when the woman snorted sarcastically.

'All that boy does is cause trouble. He lives for it, doesn't care whoever and whatever he stomps on to cause his mayhem.' there was deep distrust, dislike, and grief in the womans voice, a bleak look that that did not seem to belong on her seemingly jovial face. 'He needs to be taken in hand. Albus should have handle that long ago, but he left it too long, and now we're having to handle it.' She seemed mutinous, and M almost had a twinge of regret for the hell that this...Albus, person was going to go through, if the woman ever got the chance to express just how upset she was with him.

Speaking of...

'Just who the hell are you two? You seem to know me, but I don't know you!' he looked from one to the other, not liking the way they looked at him and immediately discarded him as nothing more than a means to an end.

'Oh! How rude of us!' the portly woman jumped, her hands fluttering up to her head and patting down her hair, flustered. "I don't know what you must think of us!' The British Accent came through stronger and more clearly, causing her words to be nearly undiscernible. 'I'm Professor Pomona Sprout, I'm the instructor of Herbology at Hogwarts School of Wit..' She cut off abruptly as her companion gave her a sharp kick in the leg, rolling her eyes as Sprout leaned over and rubbed at the offended limb.

'Ignore Pomona, she gets carried away sometimes. My name is...Meghan. I'm just a good Samaritan...interested in helping both of you.' She gave him a smile, the sunglasses catching the over head light and sparkling at him.

'Meghan? Why do I get the idea that that is not, in fact, your real name?" M could play the double talk game as well as anyone else. If these women thought that they were just going to be able to walk all over him, getting what they want by using him as a little pawn and waving his dreams in his face, they were going to be heavily surprised when it was all over.

He was no fool, and he was not going to be used as a tool.

No way, no how.

'Because it isn't." her blunt acknowledgement staggered him. 'But I'm no Fool, Dr. M. We both have our reasons for...cooperating. You keep your secrets, I'll keep mine, and we'll work together just fine.'

He studied her carefully, judging, weighing. He should, for many, many reasons, be shoving them both out on their asses and not looking twice as the door closed on them, going back to his own machinations and plans. M didn't have the time, patience, or resources, to cooperate with anyone, on anything.

His plans took precedence.

But he still found himself asking the question, cursing himself as he did.

'What, exactly, is our common goal? You know so much about me, and my...project, apparently, certainly you can answer that one question?' He put as much scorn into his question as possible, wanting to make it very clear just what he thought of their proposal and their invasion of his private quarters. He'd made scorn and sarcasm the study of a lifetime, and counted himself quite good at it.

Pomona Sprout, professor, what ever she wanted herself referred to as, just spluttered at his rudeness and presumption.

'Well I never! The nerve of young people these days!' the rest was lost in the chuckle of from Meghan.

She looked at him, and he got the distinct impression that she was amused by him. He did not like her Sunglasses, it lessened his ability to read her.

And that made her dangerous. Very Dangerous. He didn't know how she would react to anything, from a cough to a scream, and that kept his options for dealing with her low.

Very Very Low.

'That's why I like you, Doctor Michaels, you don't take anything at face value. Our Common goal, as you say, is Harry James Potter.'

M's jaw dropped to his feet.

They knew about Harry? If they knew about his pilot, even down to his civilian name, then they knew everything.

Had he gotten sloppy? Where were the clues that he'd left? He was sure that he'd destroyed any and all evidence, even down to destroying his old office on the surface of L4.

If these two, unknown women, could find that most closely guarded of information, than anyone could.

Maybe the others already knew, and that's why Harry had been found by them before M had had a chance to grab him.

He just glared.

"Oh don't look so glum, Doctor. You want to train Harry, for what ever purpose, and that's all right with us. We just want him...out of the way. Permanently. Too many plans have gone wrong because of that little boy, and we cannot afford him getting another innocent civilian killed for no reason. You can stop that.' She was cultured, and perfectly reasonable, and M found himself relaxing back into the couch, even taking the tea that she offered him with a hand that he swore wasn't shaking.

'Go on.'

She did, and by the time she was finished outlining her plan, he was smiling, satisfied.

This was going to go better than he had ever dreamed it was, and if everything went correctly, he would need these military goons for a lot less time than he had originally hoped.

Things couldn't get better.

'Good Morning Dolores.' Minister of Magic for the British Empire, Cornelius K Fudge, had never been in a better mood. The sun was shining, the ministry was moving smoothly, the Magical Public had never supported him more, and Harry J. Potter was about to be nothing more than a memory of political threat.

Everything was going better than he could have ever dreamed.

'Good Morning Minister. We have a slight...problem.' Cornelius stopped his tracks, transferring his coffee to his left hand a he turned to look at his undersecretary.

That...was not what he wanted to hear. Dolores Umbridge handled and assisted on only his most sensitive plans and projects, including the ones that would kill his career dead in the water if they ever got out to the wizarding public as a whole. For her to say that there was a problem meant that he was going to get a very big headache, very very soon.

He only hoped that it was one of his...more minor, large projects.

But, looking at the serious expression on his toadies toad like face, he could tell that it wasn't.

And he had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly which one it was. The short, blond woman just stood from her desk outside his office, and passed over a file, opening his door for him as he stumbled in, taking the coffee and briefcase that were clutched tightly in his hands away from him in a smooth motion that was very well practiced.

He was sad to admit that this scene happened way more than he was comfortable admitting. For all of his schemes, not many of them went to plan.

He opened the file as he sank down into his desk chair, a wave of Dolores's wand lighting the candles and fireplace around him.

He just stared at what he saw.

'How long?' if it was too long, then there was nothing they could do, and his plan was gone to hell. There was only a certain amount of time that he, as Minister of Magic, could act on a declaration like this, and if it was passed that mile marker, it was over, until the person in question took it back.

'Almost 24 hours. We haven't even figured out how he knew about this particular ritual.' She sat down in front of him, crossing her ankles primly. 'I've already contacted Gringotts.'

Fudge's head snapped up, eyes boring into hers. This was it, if Gringotts had already acted, then all was lost. The Goblin run bank was never swayed by anything the ministry had to say. Not money, not intrigue, not even the knowledge that they were doing what their ministry wanted.

Nothing. Their morals were too high for that, and besides, they never acted without their king's, direct, approval. Especially when it came to matters of state. And this, considering who it concerned, was assuredly a matter of state.

'And?' Please, Merlin and Merciful Zeus, let this not be too far gone. He still had a few hours to correct it, but if the bank had already acted, it was over. Money still ruled all, like it or not. He just hoped that today was his lucky day.

'The accounts have already been locked. They will not release them until both the...brat' she scowled and spat the title. Dolores had never been able to force herself to say...his...name. Said the mere thought of it left a nasty taste in her mouth.' until both the brat and their king declare the ritual null and void'

The file fell from Cornelius's suddenly lax fingers, and thudded onto the desk. He leaned back in his chair, his mind whirling away over all the consequences that were going to be thrown on his head because of one childish Lord's childish actions. And the Goblin's silly, outdated morals, would require that they audit each and every knut, galleon and sickle that left each vault that was associated with the owner's name, to make sure that everything was accounted for, until the Lord in question decided to come back.

That, was going to be a disaster. They had dodged a bullet before now, ever since that suppressing spell had given out for the millisecond that it took the King to feel what they had been blocking since the day the boy came into his inheritance.

And then the meeting at Gringotts, they had been lucky again that he had left the Bank before the King arrived.

The bullet, a muggle term that he was quite fond of these days, had finally caught up with them, and most of his plans were about to come crashing down.

He looked up at Dolores, failure written on his face, before taking a deep breath and sitting up straighter, fortifying himself.

If Harry James Bloody Potter wanted to renounce the Wizarding World and want nothing more to do with them, that was fine.

But Cornelius K Fudge was still the Minister of Magic of Great Britain, the Isles and all her Majesty's Empire, and that still meant something. The Boy Who Lived to Abandon may be about to trounce him in the public eye, but Cornelius was not going to go down without a fight.

'Dolores, call a press conference. We are going to take this to them, before he can bring them to us.' He stood up and marched out of the office with his dignity intact, already mentally composing a calm, professional, entirely false diatribe to present to the press corps, vilifying any and all comments and explanations made by the Boy Who Lived.

When Fudge was done, Harry Potter would be nothing but a smear on the pages of history, a footnote that historians ignored in favor of the bigger, brighter star of the age, that was Cornelius himself.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all. It was all about damage control.

AN-This chapter hasn't been betaed, because I'm anxious to get it posted now that its finally finished. Its slightly choppy, but makes some important points. And the vilians begin to make thier appearance! Yay! My spellchecker has died, so I've had to use an online one. What ever mistakes are left, are entirely my own, and I will fix them as soon as possible.

Happy reading!

S