AN-Here's the next chapter.

Disclaimer-I still own nothing, and make no profit off of my use of any recognizable characters. I claim no ownership of any copyrighted material.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed.

Chapter Five Part One

Ron Weasley was enjoying his favorite activity, eating breakfast and large amounts of it, when he saw the back of the newspaper his brother Percy was reading.

The Redhead put his fork down slowly, his brown eyes narrowing as he reread the Headline on the front page.

That couldn't be right. He would have said something. Wouldn't he? He was Ron's best friend! They told each other everything, even though they were in different Houses. It was just..unbelievable, for him not to know.

But there it was, in blaring black letters, a picture of Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge standing at a floating podium, his hand raised with a finger pointing towards the sky.

Harry Potter Leaves Wizarding World! Has the Boy Who Lived Abandoned Us?

By Rita Skeeter

Ron sat back in his chair, his eyes focusing on nothing, as he thought.

Surely this was a joke, right? He'd seen Harry yesterday as they got off the train, Harry hadn't seemed different at all. The same old, normal, entirely too studious, Ravenclaw. They'd joked, shared chocolate frogs, and annoyed Draco Bloody Malfoy just as they always did.

If Harry was a little more melancholy, a little quieter, a little slower to laugh at the jokes, Ron had chalked it all up to

Why, then, was Rita Skeeter claiming that Harry had gone? Harry was the boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, he couldn't leave them alone to fend for themselves.

Voldemort was back, Harry had seen him resurrected with his own eyes, had been a part, albeit unwilling, of that resurrection.

It was his duty to take care of that monster for a second time, so that they could all live in peace.

Had Ron really underestimated his friend for all these years? It was true, Harry as a Ravenclaw and they weren't known for their bravery, only for their smarts, but he was the son of two Gryffindor's. Surely that should have given him some bravery.

Right?

He didn't know. So he did what any confused fifteen year would do when confronted with a situation that he didn't understand.

He asked his mother. He turned around in his seat, draping his arm over the back and cocking his head slightly to the side. His mother, Molly Weasley, was still bustling around the kitchen, finishing breakfast for the entire house, humming a happy song at having all of her family under one roof. Ron knew his mother well, he had been nearly attached to her hip until the year he went to Hogwarts, and thought that if anyone would know what was going through Harry's head, it would be her.

'Mum?' he hated the way his voice was still changing, grimacing as it broke into an octave too high for a half-grown man, and waited for her to notice him. He knew, from many long years of experience, that give her a little time, she would get to you after the first asking. She just finished what she was doing unless it was an emergency. She gave the pot on the stove one last stir with her wand, and turned to face him, a smile on her face as she shoved the wand haphazardly into her apron.

'Yes Ronald?' only she could say Ronald, and not having him grinding his teeth and ready to fight. The smile she gave him said she knew it too, but what could he do? She was his mum.

'Why did Harry do it?' It was a quiet question, but struck the air like an atom bomb, Molly's face crumbling as she heard the broken tone in her youngest son's voice. Harry Potter, while he had been the savior to every once else, the boy destined to save them from the monster under their beds.

But to her son, he was nothing more and nothing less than his best friend. The first friend the youngest of her son's had ever had.

And she didn't know how to explain to him that sometimes, people didn't want to live up to their responsibilities, thought that they didn't have to contribute, just live life like there was nothing wrong.

And when those people, were people like Harry James Potter, the ordinary citizens, like her Ronald, got hurt when they walked away.

Looking at Ron, she gathered her thoughts, and explained it the best she could, wishing that he could have stayed looking at the world through Rose colored glasses like the rest of his class mates.

But it wasn't meant to be.

He would have to grow up, the rest of his childhood overshadowed by the same monster that her oldest' had been, and he would have to face that shadow, head on, like the gryffindor he was, when it wasn't his job.

Harry Potter would come back, one day, no one could leave the world of Magic behind for long, it called to their soul like a siren's song until they returned home, and then he would have a lot to answer for.

Until that point, they would just have to shoulder on, doing the best they can at something that wasn't their responsibility.

There was no other thing for it.

'Chin Up Ronald. He'll be back, eventually, you'll see. And you'll just have to sure he understands ho wrong he was, when he does, won't you?" Her freckle faced boy nodded, bringing a hand up to wipe away the tears that had fallen without his permission, giving a side ways glace at her middle child, who was looking at them over the top of his newspaper, but not saying anything. She was glad for it, Percy spoke his mind, totally and completely, and was some times surprised with how his words were taken. Even he seemed to know that this was not the time for one of his self righteous little speeches, and kept himself out of sight. "Until then, I don't want to see any of this moping. There's a war about to start, and there'll be enough moping around during that.' She smacked him lightly with the dishtowel. 'Now, I'm sure one of your brothers will be around, wanting to play quidditch or the like. Shoo!' Ron stood up, like she knew he would, and quickly moved away from the table, returning a few seconds later to cram a few more slices of bacon into his mouth and a bit of toast, before racing up the stairs, calling for Charlie.

She and Percy exchanged a long suffering but fond look, before they both went back to what they were doing before, the kitchen soon filling with the sound of sizzling food and humming, a counterpoint to the slow turn of newspaper pages.

But while both were occupied with other things, only one thought was going through their minds.

What was Harry Bloody Potter thinking?

Professor Fillius Flitwick considered himself an even tempered man. He was a Ravenclaw, and prided himself on looking at things logically, no matter the emotional impact they placed on him a first glance. He was a Ravenclaw to the core, taking everything in stride, including things that he would never have seen coming in a million and one years.

He was still ashamed at his first meeting with his most famous, for lack of a better term, raven, the memory of himself toppling backwards off his stool during his introductory speech to the new First Years.

While he picked himself up off the floor, the little boy with Lily Potter's eyes had just stared up at him, completely confused as to why every one had had that reaction upon meeting him. From that one, inglorious, meeting, Harry Potter had become one of his favorite Ravenclaws, even though he despaired to knock some of the more...Gryffindorishly brave tendencies out of the little boy.

He was sure that he had gained half a head of gray hairs during the whole Philosopher's Stone episode.

Not to mention the TriWizard Tournament. That incident still had him reaching for the Elvish Brandy that was always tucked safely away under every one of the desks that he used. That had been a clusterfuck of epic proportions, to use a muggle term. He still couldn't look Sprout in the eye, even though he knew it wasn't his Raven's fault that Cedric had met his demise. Losing a student was a hard blow to every teacher, especially a teacher who was as close to her students as Pomona Sprout was.

Flitwick resisted the urge to drink again, biting the inside of his cheek until the urge passed, and reached for the newspaper instead, intending to lose himself in the mindless ramblings of the humans that passed for reporters in Britain, before the paper fell from suddenly nerveless fingers as he read the front page headlines.

No.

This hadn't happened.

He hadn't lost a student, to death, transfer, or voluntary exodus, since he took over as Head of Ravenclaw house over forty years previous.

This simply couldn't happen.

Flitwick shoved back from the table, striding away as fast as his short legs could carry him, cursing, and not for the first time, that the anti apparition wards that kept others from apparating in, kept anyone from apparating from place to place in the school.

Which meant he was running the whole way to the Headmasters office.

If anyone knew what was going on, it would be Albus. He took far too much of an interest in Harry Potter, and there was nothing that the boy did, thought, or dreamed that the Headmaster didn't know. So far, it hadn't lead to anything other than a few tests, a prod in the direction that the headmaster wanted the boy to go, and so Flitwick didn't interfere.

When it came to Snape, however, the half dwarf thought to himself as he took a right turn, thankfully that it was Summer and none of the students were in residence to see his rather ungraceful trek through the castle, Snape got away with his treatment of Harry exactly once. McGonagall may allow that greasy dungeon dweller to treat her lions like he wanted, some sort of bravery test or way to toughen them up, but Flitwick wouldn't allow it, especially not of a child who had done nothing to gain that hatred except being born. Snape had left their conference, shaking in his little boots and very much reminded of why Flitwick was not to be underestimated.

Fillius would admit that he took a little bit of pleasure from taking Severus Snape down a peg. The boy had been a pain in the backside during his school days, and nothing had changed since his employment.

'Bubblegum Candy Sticks' Fillius spat out the utterly ridiculous password, and the gargoyle guarding the door leapt aside, snapping back into place as soon as his feet were firmly on the winding staircase, moving up them rapidly.

He didn't bother knocking on the door, instead pushing it open without waiting for Dumbledore to even acknowledge that he was waiting outside.

This was too important.

'Fillius! Is something wrong?' Dumbledore stood up from his desk at his Charms professor's rapid entrance, his face concerned. Filius was the most composed of his professors, and to see the tiny man in a fit of emotion made him think the worst.

Had death Eaters gotten into the castle?

Had the diadem resurfaced and an unlucky student took it home for the Summer?

Filius merely stepped forward and turned the paper sitting on the headmaster's desk over, dropping with a thud into the chair in front of the desk, waving his hand absentmindedly to re-size it to fit his short frame. He may be small, but he was not going to face his employer like he was a child waiting to be scolded for skipping a detention. Dumbledore just looked down and sighed, sinking into his chair as well, seeming every one of his 249 years.

'Oh. That.' Fillius snorted. Trust Albus to utterly under speak a situation, even one so dire as this.

'yes. That, Albus!' He twitched agitatedly, bouncing his left foot against the leg of the chair. 'Did you know?' If Albus had known how Harry felt, and had not given Fillius a chance to reach his student before a decision like this was made, then he may as well give his resignation right now, because he couldn't do his job if the Headmaster was holding secrets like this from him.

Albus stared him down, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

'I can assure you, Fillius, that I had no idea. If I did, I certainly would have stopped him before he doomed us all.' Albus seemed disturbed, angry, more off balance than Fillius had ever seen him.

It was disturbing. Albus Dumbledore had always had a level head on his shoulders, keeping his calm even while the Death Eaters were advancing upon them like the Black Death.

To see him rattled, by a fifth year, was...not something he ever wanted to do again.

'Surely its not that bad, Albus? He's not even fifteen, an oath like this shouldn't even be fully in effect, unless his legal guardians approve of it.' A vow like the one Harry took was only done in very, very, rare circumstances, and if it was done correctly, it didn't take hold.

For Harry to have known exactly what to say, how to say it, and how to get his guardians to allow him to, he had to have outside help. And that was a sobering thought. The person that would help their savior leave the wizarding World, unable to return until the terms of his vow were complete or he rescinded them, would have to be on the side of the Dark. No one who was affiliated with the Light would have helped the Boy leave, no matter how unfair it was to the child to have the worries of a whole community on his shoulders.

People were born with responsibility, and it was a horrible thing, but that was life. You either stood strong under your burden, and rose above it, or you ran from it for the rest of your life.

It seemed Harry had chosen his path.

'I'm afraid that is has already taken effect, Gringotts has closed all of the Potter vaults, including the ones that were set aside for others, including Remus Lupin.' Dumbledore's voice was sad, as he talked about one of his favorite Gryffindors. 'However he found out about the vow, he did it correctly, and there is no going back. For now anyway.' he smiled suddenly, the twinkle coming back to his eyes as he sat back suddenly, crossing his hands over his stomach in a self satisfied way.

Fillius was afraid of that look. When Albus Wulfric Percivel Dumbledore got that look in his eyes, it spelled trouble for whoever was on the other side of that plot, but it usually ended well for someone.

Usually Dumbledore himself.

'I assume you have a plan?' He really didn't want to know, preferring to head back to his office and the Brandy that was waiting, but resigned himself to waiting and finding out if there was even a little bit of a threat to Harry. While he was disappointed in the boy, wishing that he would have stayed around and allowed others to help him shoulder his burden, or at least confided in Flitwick himself, Harry was still a Raven, and he would do anything and everything within his power to protect him.

Make him understand how wrong he was for leaving, of course, but protect and support him all the same.

'Why yes I do, as a matter of fact Fillius' that smile again, and Fillius found himself fighting back a shiver. This was not going to end well for anyone but Albus in this. 'I'm going to talk to the boy. After all, it was probably just an exclamation made in anger, or shock, that happened to have taken hold at the most inopportune moment. That's all. He'll be made to see reason, and then this will all go back to the way it was written.' The old man stood up, straightening the...rather bright lime green robes around his legs, smiling happily at the pink kneazles that bounced around it.

Fillius wondered, and not for the first time, if there was something not quite right in Albus Dumbledore's head. If the greatest wizard in the world went around dressed like a four year old witch that had an obsession with cats, then it stood to reason that they, just possibly, may all be doomed.

As Dumbledore apparated away with a loud crack, showing off the fact that he, above all others, could circumvent the wards of Hogwarts, leaving Fillius to hope that the older man would be back, with his errant Raven in tow.

But while he waited, there was a bottle of Brandy with his name on it.

And if one of his coworkers found him, five hours later, singing off key Dwarven drinking songs at the top of his lungs in the middle of the Great Hall, well, that was their own fault for interrupting.

Couldn't they tell the room was occupied?

'Your Son is a Wizard.' The stranger said it simply, matter of factly, crossing one leg over the other as he sat calmly on the couch. One eye was continuously peeled towards the corner where Harry was still encased behind the shield, though his line of sight was always blocked by one of the boy's fathers, usually with a gun pointed in his face until he looked away again.

The stranger found it all amusing.

There was a laugh from the braided one, who was flipping a knife up and down calmly, catching it between a different finger every time.

'Magic? You expect us to believe magic is real? Like pulling a rabbit out of a hat? Please, that's just children stories and illusions.' There as derision in this man's voice, and a dark look on his face that didn't seem to fit from what the stranger had seen so far.

The stranger just threw his head back and laughed heartily.

'Rabbits out of hats? Please, that's just a mundane trick, illusion as you said.' He smiled, showing sharp teeth, 'What I'm talking about, is Magic.' They could all hear the capitalization of the word when he spoke it, and sat up straighter, on alert for what ever he had to say next. While they may not believe that Magic was real, it was clear that he thought that it was, and that could make him dangerous in the worst way. Insane people were always the worst to anticipate. There was no set in stone way to determine exactly what they were going to do, and that made the Pilots very very nervous.

''Magic, like what is shielding your son, can do anything and everything. It can be harnessed, controlled, bent to do your will. If She wants, that is.' an enigmatic smile, ' and your son is one of her chosen few that can half way control it on Earth.'

There was a moment of silence, before four of the pilots started chuckling. Wufei stayed silent, a contemplative look on his face as he studied the shield around the boy, his mind racing at a million miles an hour as he connected the dots carefully.

'Why should we even listen to you? We don't know who you are, as Petunia' a sardonic look at the lady of the house who sat stoically on the recliner, having not said a word since Mr. King barged his way, very rudely, into her house. She was locked away in her mind, in a place that was far removed from here. 'Hasn't even told us your name.'

Another smile, comfortable in the scrutiny, almost amused by it. It made Quatre's teeth grind.

As head of WEI it wasn't often that he was so very clearly looked down upon, and he had to admit that he did not like the feeling one bit.

But the blond stayed quiet. He didn't know everything yet, and he wasn't going to dictate how things went from here on out until he knew everything that there was to know and then some.

'Have I not introduced myself? How very...rude of me.' he smiled again, showing those same, strange, sharp teeth. 'I'm Jareth King. I moved in next door a few weeks ago.'

And that wasn't suspicious at all.

'and that makes you believable, how? We still don't know you from Tom, Dick, and Harry, and let me tell you, bub, you aren't going to change that anytime soon. Magic ain't real, and if it is, it's unnatural.' there was a look of scorn on his face, a dark look on his face that even the other pilots had never seen.

It made them wonder exactly what was going through his normally bubbly head.

'That sounds like the talk of a witch burner' Jareth's voice was cold, just this side of freezing, and it snapped Duo out of his stupor immediately, leaving him blinking as if he'd just awoken from a dream. He looked from one face to the other, squirming slightly as all the attention was on him.

'sorry, guys. I must have zoned out there for a second. What were we talking about?' he gave a blinding smile, hoping to cover up the confusion and fear that was crawling through his veins like poison.

They looked away, letting him hide for the moment, but his fellows filed it away as food for later thought. Jareth just narrowed his eyes at the braided fool, resolving to keep an eye on him. Anything that was a threat to Harry, was not to be allowed. And would be dealt with accordingly.

That braid would make a nice cord to suspend it's owner over the bog of eternal stench.

'we were discussing Magic, of course. But as you children' the pilots bristled, 'refuse to believe anything without proof, typical mundane mindset, I'll just have to have a demonstration now won't I?' he stood up, brushing his hands off as he took a step towards Harry's self created cell, reaching a Hand out to touch it, before he was slammed hard enough to the floor to clink his teeth together as he impacted. He glared up at his assailant, seeing the youngest of the five men standing over him, his foot pressed painfully into his throat. Only Jareth's wildly twitching fingers kept his goblins from taking care of their king's attacker in a very bloody, violent manner, but they held for the moment, staying unseen until they were needed.

'let me go.' it was a rasp, the shallow breathing keeping him from speaking in anything other than a whisper. 'I'm just going to get him out.' that was the wrong thing to say. The foot pressed against his throat harder, a look of absolute rage crossing over the youth's face As he cut of Jareth's air supply.

'you locked him in that thing!' the words were a hiss, and Jareth felt his skin warming slowly, most likely unnoticeable to anyone unused to cataloging every bodily reaction. He smirked, even through the pain and loss of oxygen before his own magic kept to his defense like a well trained attack dog gnawing at the bit to get to his master's attacker. The Asian youth was thrown back, to bounce harmlessly onto the couch Jareth had previously been occupying.

It looked like lily potter wasn't the only one to contribute to her son's magical prowess. Jareth climbed to his feet, straightening his clothes easily, brushing off the dirt that had collected from his harsh meeting with the ground, and turning back towards the shielded Harry, ignoring the muttering and whispered conversations from behind him.

His entire world had narrowed down to the shield in front of him, and the boy that was behind him. He had never been this close to him, had never been just an instant from reaching out and touching what had haunted his dreams for the last five years. He'd had glimpses, through the crystal he'd slipped into the boys pocket when he was but a child, reports from the few humans who were as loyal to him as the Goblins were, but it wasn't enough.

Nothing, but having Harry safe, content, and at his side, would ever be enough.

And now that was going to be a reality.

Jareth reached out a hand and pressed it against the barrier. There was a moments worth of resistance, before his magic swirled around the limb and sank into the shield, taking his hand along with it.

After a split, nano second, of thought, the rest of his body followed it, cutting off all outside sound and enveloping him in pure magic.

And what beautiful magic it was.

Jareth stood, upright in a space that should have had him on his knees, surrounded by colors and sounds, swirling around his head and around his body, whispering to him sweetly, coaxing his own magic out to play. He let it go with a smile, letting as much out as he dared without overwhelming the other. He was the King of the Underground, he didn't mean to brag but he was one of the strongest magical forces in any of the three realms, barring the Gods themselves. His sheer magical presence would overwhelm Harry, to the brink of madness, his Magic's Mate or not, leaving his Harry no more than a growth of Jareth's magic, unable to think of anything but what Jareth wanted to do.

Nothing but a pawn, and that was unacceptable.

The Goblin King made his way carefully towards the form curled up against the wall, or what passed for a wall in this magically created haven. He was sure, that in reality, there wasn't a blue wave crawling up the side of the wall, pulsing every few seconds and letting out an eerie blue light.

If there was one thing that he could say about the Mate that he hadn't gotten the chance to know yet, it would be that he certainly had the chaos part of magic down. The space he'd found himself in was nothing, if not chaotic.

Jareth sank down onto the floor, close enough to touch, but resisted the urge to lay a hand on the shivering form in front of him. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their future relationship.

But the boy couldn't stay in here forever. There was an entire world on the other side that was just waiting for him.

He could change it, change it all, and for the better.

But he had to take the first steps before he could change anything, including himself.

'Harry?' Jareth spoke softly, waiting to be acknowledged before he continued. If Harry didn't do this himself, chose to face what was out there himself, this would all be for naught.

Not that Jareth really cared, the Human and Wizarding Worlds could go to Tarturus for all he cared. As long as his realms, and Harry, survived, then he had done his duty. But, Harry cared about that world, for all his protesting and oathing that he didn't, so to let it be destroyed would be to destroy Harry.

'Who're you?' Harry had lifted his head from bent knees while Jareth was busy with his internal monologue, green eyes staring at him curiously. 'And how'd you get in here? No one can get in here.' It was said with all the assurance that the teen could muster, confident in his own magic if he was confident in nothing else. He had wanted the bubble impenetrable, and so it was.

Except to Jareth.

The King just smiled, tilting his head slightly to the side to better study the boy.

'I'm no one important, Harry Potter, just a concerned neighbor. Its time you came out.' A lie, the first in a long line, but the truth had plenty of time to come out. Right now they had other things to worry about other than how Jareth got through the magic bubble.

Magic bubble. Now that was something fun to say, Jareth snickered to himself. And slightly ironic, considering the shape his magic so loved to take.

Like the crystal that was still tucked away in Harry's back pocket, like it always was.

'I'll be the judge of that. You're not supposed to be in here, and I want answers.' Harry had fully sat up, folding his legs underneath himself and staring at Jareth like a general surveying his troops. There was a ribbon of steel written in his eyes, and Jareth knew that he was going to have to think fast to get Harry out of here, because he didn't look like he was going to leave of his own volition any time soon.

And so he started talking, making up more and more lies as he went, knowing that when they caught up to him, he would be fighting to hold on to Harry with everything he had, but hopefully that was a long time coming and they would be...he hated to think it, it sounded so corny and overdone even in his own head, but they would hopefully be in love by then, and lies like this could be forgiven and forgotten as necessary.

Duo knew that something was wrong with him. As he watched Mr. Jareth King, or whatever his real name was, press a hand against the shield and then slid through as if it wasn't even there, he felt a shudder go through his entire body as if a bucket of cold water had been poured down his back. He'd felt hints of it, slight shudders of revulsion that tried to rock him when he put a hand on the shield the first time, trying to get to his son, but he'd pushed them back. There was nothing to be repulsed at, it was just another side of technology that he'd never seen before. He was a Gundam Pilot for goodness sake, there was no reason for him to be afraid.

And he loved Technology, Deathscythe was his best, and sometimes he thought only true friend. The other pilots were brothers, true enough, and he couldn't have loved them more if they were actual blood relatives, but Deathcscythe was more. They'd been through everything from the very beginning it seemed, and he missed the mecha like he'd miss a limb once it was cut off.

So strange tech was to be embraced, and figured out, and used.

But Magic? Magic was...strange. It, if it existed, it would make things to easy, make people like him unnecessary...or too necessary. He almost closed his eyes at the thought of what would have happened if Witches had been involved in either of the Wars...even the Gundams couldn't have fought against them. Oz would have won almost without opposition.

Magic was to be feared...and destroyed.

The thought entered his head without prompting, vile, slimy words that were spoken with a honey-sweet tone. Duo felt his left fist clenching, his violet eyes focusing on the shadowy forms he could see through the shield...magic shield. Blood dripped down his palm at the thought, and he railed against the feelings it was sending through him.

That was his son. His SON, his flesh and bone. Unnatural Magic or not, it shouldn't...it wouldn't, matter.

Duo slowly unclenched his fist, flexing it to get the blood flowing again, and wincing as the cuts made themselves known. He caught Wufei looking at him from the corner of his eye, and forced a smile on his face, hoping it would be enough to fool the younger man. He couldn't force himself to tell a lie, it was against his very soul to lie, about anything. He crossed his toes and waited, his smile getting bigger as he stayed under examination.

Until Wufei shrugged and turned away, shrugging Trowa's arm closer around his shoulder and putting his eyes more firmly on the slowly shrinking sphere.

Duo forced himself to breath through it, hoping that his tension would be taken for something other than a new found bigotry towards a group that he hadn't known existed until now.

He was happy to see his son, for the first time, without fear written on his face. Of course, the boy didn't know that he was their son, but he would, very soon. And then they could be the family that they should have been from the very beginning.

As he focused on that thought, pushing everything else from his mind, shutting the voice into a dark part of his mind when it started up its whispering again, he failed to notice that not everyone had fallen for his act as easily as Wufei had, Prussian blue eyes focusing on him with single minded intensity.

Heero knew something was going on, and he wasn't going to stop until he found out what it was. Ever since they got to this house, things had been happening that shouldn't have been.

Like Vernon Dursley, for instance. It was in Heero's experience that you didn't keep telling a lie, once someone had pointed out that the lie had been found out, and that telling the truth immediately would most likely keep you from getting killed. But Vernon Dursley, from all other accounts an intelligent if not stubborn man, had continued to lie, until he was forced into unconsciousness from the beating that he took. Heero felt no regret for what he'd done to the obese man. He'd done far worse during the war, and for far less things than keeping his son from him. Vernon Dursley had brought his fate onto himself.

And then there was the shield. His brain told him it was an unknown technology, possible hostile, that seemed to be linked directly to Potter, Harry J's emotions, and physical state, in some way that had yet to be explained. It couldn't be neutralized, yet, and his mind was trying to figure out a way to get the boy out without harming him, or setting off some as yet unknown defensive measure that was probably built into the shield. He hadn't come up with a way yet, but he was sure that he would come up with a way, soon.

Not to mention the way that Harry had reacted to them when he came in the door. Heero was almost positive that it wasn't what he had found them doing to his uncle, but the three of them that had set off the extreme reaction that they'd witnessed, the state of Vernon Dursley being just a secondary concern.

Something in their bearing, or reaction, had brought up bad, possibly violent, memories in their son. And Heero would find out who, or what, had scared him to the point that the mere sight of violence resulted in such a severe reaction, and make sure that they could never do it again.

He could handle figuring out those problems. That wouldn't be a problem, at least not in the long run. He had the entire Preventors database at his fingers, and WEI's was even larger. There was nothing on this planet that he couldn't find the answer to, and destroy, given enough time to figure out all the mission parameters.

But Magic? Magic, he couldn't process. Magic, couldn't exist. He'd been trained, conditioned, to believe only in cold, hard facts, and to trust on technology.

This, this was causing his brain to almost short circuit. He couldn't wrap his analytical thinking around such an abstract concept.

If there was magic in the world, magic that could be used with and for the Preventors if 'good' magic users could be found, than what was his purpose? Why would the Commander still want him on security and Intel, if she could use a...witch? He thought the word was, to get the same results, faster, and more reliably than he could.

He was useless in this new world, and he felt his reality crumbling.

If it was true. And he had no doubts that it wasn't true..because he may not believe for the simple sake of believing, but Jareth King, real name not known, seemed to believe in it with everything that he had.

And then he stepped through the shield protecting Harry with no resistance, just walking through it like it wasn't even there and disappearing into the orange glow, to become just a shadowy form like Harry.

And Heero knew he was officially going mad.

He couldn't cope in this new world, in front of proof that he was finally, after all these years, obsolete.

What was his purpose in this new world? He had no doubts that it wasn't in the Preventors, because Une wasn't stupid. Magic users were the new Gundam pilots.

Soldiers were finally unnecessary.

As his mind whirled away, cracking like a mirror hit with a stone, his eyes landed on Duo.

Who did not look himself, in any sense of the word. An expression of deep anger and disgust was written all over his face, despite the too big smile that he'd plastered on his face to cover it for the youngest of the their comrades, and the blood dripping down his palm to spot on the floor was a clear indicator that something was wrong with pilot 02. Following his gaze, Heero saw that Duo's focus was on the shield that had protected their son, but the two shadowy forms were now stepping slowly out, the bubble disappearing the moment that Harry Potter was outside of its influence as if it had never even been there in the first place.

Heero's eyes narrowed as he took in the visibly terrified form of his son, who had shrank back against the wall, his arms wrapped around himself and his eyes refusing to land on any one person for longer than a nanosecond, especially the bloodied form of his still unconscious uncle lying on the floor.

And Duo's furious, disgusted eyes, were focused fully on his form, his injured hand fisting again. Heero recognized that look, he had seen it once before, in the few years after the War when things were in more upheaval that during the War, when Duo took out an entire squad of remnant Oz forces who had refused to surrender when the war ended, singlehandedly, when he'd found them terrorizing and murdering a group of street children for the simple reason that no one would miss them.

There had only been pieces of them left when the other pilots arrived on the scene to help, Duo standing over the carnage and blood shed with that same furious, silent, too angry for words expression on his face.

And now it was focused towards their child...and that was unacceptable.

In a moment of clarity, while the rest of his world was crumbling underneath him, Heero found his purpose, locking blue eyes onto it with single minded intensity.

Harry James Potter, if he decided to use that name that the others had come up with when they first found out about him, was his purpose. He was about to be thrown into a world that he had no idea about, the world of death threats, of having to be more than he ever thought he would have to be, and Heero would make sure he survived it. Survived everything that life had to throw at him, no matter what angle they came at him from, with a smile on his face.

Pardon the expression, but Heero, he grimaced at the mere thought, wanted to bounce grand kids on his knee one day. He knew that if he ever spoke that aloud, he would be laughed at by all the others, but he didn't care. He'd never cared what others thought of him, it wasn't in his programming.

His mind calming under the soothing thoughts of having another purpose in life, Heero stepped up behind the couch that King and Harry had settled themselves on, the boy having been coaxed into sitting down by the older man, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor. Harry looked up when he felt the presence of someone stepping behind them, blinking up at Heero with big green eyes, and Heero smiled at him in what he hoped was a comforting look.

By the half smile that he got in return, he wagered that he'd been at least half way successful.

'What...what about Uncle Vernon?' They'd stayed locked in that tableau for what seemed like hours,staring at each other until one of them was brave enough, or stupid enough, to speak. Heero hadn't moved from his position since he took it, staring each of them down as if they were a potential threat.

And as far as he was concerned, a few of them were.

When harry spoke, Heero admitted that he was a little surprised it was about his downed uncle. Most people would be wondering why they were there, or what had happened to him. At this point, it was foolishness to worry about the Dursley male. He would either live, or he wouldn't.

But King seemed to have a different view on the subject, studying the man with a sigh before looking down at Harry. Heero didn't like the look that was in the strange man's eyes every time they landed on the child, his hackles raising. Jareth knew more about Harry than he was letting on, and something was going on between the two of them that he didn't' want anyone to know about. And that wasn't acceptable.

He could be a threat, and all threats were to be eliminated.

'Well, I would heal him. But, and I'm embarrassed to say this, healing was never one of my strong suits. I'm afraid I can do nothing for him.' Harry's face fell, shrugging his shoulders inwards. King continued before he'd could get upset though, 'But I know someone who can. They'll take good care of him, i assure you.' He gave his finger a quick snap, and the body of Vernon Dursley disappeared as if it had never been there.

And no one moved. They just stared at him as if he just preformed a resurrection, or an execution, in the middle of a suburban living room and they were scared he would do the same to them if they so much as twitched in the wrong direction.

Oddly enough, seeing the display of magic calmed Harry down, as he let his body sink back against the couch, as much at ease as they had seen it since he walked into the house. Heero wasn't sure if it was the use of magic, or the sight of something that was seemingly familiar that put him into a comfortable situation.

King smiled, crossing his arms and legs again, studying the room with that infuriating smirk that made Heero want to shoot it off.

It would clear up some of the agitation he was feeling, and the Perfect soldier had to clench his fist to keep it from going for the gun strapped at the small of his back.

'So...next question.' Harry sat up, pulling his feet underneath him and studying the room intently. 'Who the bloody hell are all of you?'

There was a moment of silence, and then...

'Watch your language.' It came from out of nowhere, leaving Harry blinking as he stared at the blond who'd spoken. He had a serious look on his face, and seemed supremely offended by Harry's use of the word.

Harry just looked at him, his jaw dropping with his surprise.

What?

The blond just crossed his arms and leaned back confidently in his seat, staring at Harry coolly. Harry instantly disliked him. He'd never been reprimanded for cursing, and it coming from someone who he had never met before, did not set well with him.

'Excuse me?' he tried to keep his voice polite, using every inch of good manners that Aunt Petunia had beaten into him, but he knew that he hadn't succeeded in keeping the edge completely out.

The blond just smiled, and Harry wished that he knew his name so that he could refer to him as something other than the blond, it brought unpleasant reminders of Draco Malfoy to mind.

'I said, watch your language. Words like that are unnecessary.' Harry blinked again, forcing his jaw to close with a snap.

Where did this guy get off? Harry rolled his eyes and sat back, crossing his arms rebelliously and looking away. If this guy was going to treat him like a rebellious teenager, then by Merlin he was going to act like one. The rest of the day had been beyond his comprehension, from the moment he stepped on to the train to the moment he stepped into the house, not to mention the year from hell that he'd just gotten back from, that this was just another bump in the road.

A very blond, very angry bump in the road, and Harry smirked as he looked at the man out of the corner of his eye.

"Harry James Potter you will not treat your father that way!' Harry's head whipped around like it was on a wire, his mouth dropping open.

You could almost hear a pin drop in the silence that followed, as Harry tried to process what had been said.

'What?' he eventually croaked it out, trying to swallow past his suddenly dry mouth. Was this a joke?

He studied each face, noticing that the braided one looked away from him almost immediately. 'You've got to be kidding me! James Potter was my father, believe me, enough people have told me I look exactly like him!' he glared at the blond, 'So you're nothing but a liar.' he said it coldly, channeling everything he could of Snape, drawing on many many classes and detentions when he'd been subjected to that bastard of a potions teacher.

There was a cough after he finished his sentence, and he turned his head slightly, seeing the man with the weird hair style shaking his head wildly and making a slicing motion with his hand, his one visible eye wide eyed and panicked. He seemed to think that insulting the blond one wasn't a good idea.

And when Harry turned around, he could understand why. There was a cold expression on the blonde's face, and he leaned forward in the seat he was settled in, linking his hands together between his knees. He opened his mouth to speak, and Harry prepared himself for a diatribe to be let loose against him, even though he knew without a doubt that this man had been lying. He was used to people yelling at him, this would be nothing new.

'Don't you ever...' Harry's view of the blond was cut off as a figure stepped in front of him, blocking him from view, presenting Harry with a well muscled back.

'Quatre.' it was a cold voice, and Harry felt very very glad that he wasn't the one that the voice was focused on.

The blond took a deep breath, seemingly working himself into a rage, when the whole world went to hell, and took Harry along with it.

AN-Well here's Part one of Two. Part two is well on its way, but this chapter was approaching 10K words, and I felt it would be better to cut it here and post the next of it as a separate chapter, hopefully in the next week. Any constructive criticism would be appreciated.

S