Disclaimer: If ye know of Harry Potter, then ye know I don't own it- I'm male. Seemplz.

I'd like to thank 'Emissary of Shadow' for the glowing review! Let me go and write some more. Then start the joy-puke parade ;D

Professor I.P. Freely: You, my good friend, bolster the ego :D

The Bloke: Your point is, of course, well made and succinct. Plus, I've had the same experience. But, with no Beta, I'd like to think I'm doing quite well, eh?

WITH GREAT POWER COME GREAT RESPONSIBILITY

If his mind hadn't been strong enough to cope with Occlumency, then maybe, what was in this box was too dangerous for someone without it. Harry leant over slightly, eager to see what was inside.

As it happened, there was another note in the box. This one was from someone else, however.

To whomsoever shall receive this box, and have the superior skills to see it, I leave my only legacy- death. These items have been in my possession for far too many years, it is now your turn. Use them wisely, and with great respect. As someone long ago once said:

With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility

Charlus Potter,

Lord Potter, Duke of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff.

Duke of Mercia, Azkaban, Hogwarts.

Farmer's Son, and Warrior of Honour.

Harry sat back on his heels, and whistled. This man must have been related to him, then! Harry set aside the note, and picked up the large box. It was heavy, even for Harry. He dumped the trunk on the table and set about rummaging through the thing. It was useless. There was too much stuff in the magically-expanded space- he'd have to lay it all out. He set about taking things out one at a time, and examining them. First out was a helmet, made of iron that had rusted through in places. On the side were the initials CWP. Next was a notebook. Harry flicked through and saw several maps of eastern France, what looked like lines of advancement- enemy and allied- and troop estimations. After the notebook, was a hell of a lot of dirt. Sifting through the trunk, Harry thought of another way to do it. "Accio soil!" Suddenly, a lot of earth flew out of the trunk and whipped around Harry until the sods of grass and such had calmed down. A quick cleanliness charm, and it was gone. Below all of that, was a trunk rather like this one. Hoisting it out, Harry noticed it seemed to be the main part of the weight of the trunk.

Setting it down next to the first trunk, Harry popped open the lock. Inside were row upon row of guns- the latest models having come out only seventeen years ago- when he was born. Ammunition, stands, there was nearly everything he needed now, to be a perfect ranged fighter! Even most martial artists couldn't avoid a spray of bullets over a wide area. The bullets were too fast for a shield spell to be erected fast enough, and most wards couldn't take direct hits from high kinetic force- hence the use of bombs in WWII due to Grindelwald knowing that wizards were vulnerable to modern technologies. The ammunition canisters were protected from heat by rudimentary runes, but that was all. No customisation at all. No scopes, no laser sights, no extended mags, no grenade launcher slung underneath the barrel, nothing. There were hundreds of types of revolvers, pistols, rifles, machineguns and other, weirder guns. Like a harpoon gun. When the fuck would that even be useful? Harry thought, as he trawled through the remaining guns that hadn't been sorted. Several guns looked really weird- like they hadn't been designed by humans. All hard angles and others all curves. The angular one was a long rifle, with a stock that looked like it could break your shoulder. The curvy one seemed to be a shotgun- one that actually had small runes written in out of the way places. Harry knew he'd have fun making rune sets for these things. But, first things first, he needed to start firing and getting his hand in.

Three years to the day, Harry had stumbled into the room and passed out. He knew that it was time to leave. His bindings had worn down to nothing the night before, atomising everything in the room that wasn't protected. Only the weapons, the books, and the potions had survived, besides the mannequin. Harry was glad that the permanent animation spell he'd used allowed the mannequin to absorb so much damage- he'd be going through them at vast speeds, otherwise. He had to practice how to under-power his spells at school, or people (i.e. Dumbledore) would notice something wrong. Harry packed all of the kit he had acquired through the room into the tin trunk, and looked around. He then started to disassemble the room. The plates of black metal went into his trunk, shrunken. The flooring, which was made of the same stuff, went up after. There was no trace of the room left except a large natural cave and pool deep underground. Then, Harry lifted the trunk in one hand and proceeded back up the steps to the Delacour manor.

The long stone steps, ascending back into the world that was driven by time, were exactly as they had been three years ago- because here, no time had passed. At all. It took Harry no time to remember the way to Jacques' study, to which he then went. On the way there, Harry stopped in the entrance hall once more. This time, he noticed the portraits hanging on the walls. To the left of the central staircase heading up to the first floor was a small but beautiful frame, with brown and green leaves decorating the outside. The portrait was one of four men. They seemed to be laughing away, completely care-free, sitting around a small picnic table in a park. The first was obviously Harry's dad, James Potter, with his wind-ruffled hair. The second could only have been Sirius Black, his godfather, with the runic tattoos standing out against his thin white sleeveless top. The third was Remus Lupin, howling like a wolf with laughter, looking younger than Harry had ever seen him. The fourth, was not Peter Pettigrew. It was Jacques Delacour, a lot younger, but one or two years older than the others. He had his arm draped over Remus' shoulder, holding himself up amidst the gales of hilarity. All three raised a drink, and drained their cups. They hoisted them to Harry, and winked.

The approval in his father's eyes, as if he knew of Harry's fast learning… Harry smiled, and saluted the foursome, and continued up the stairs. Meanwhile, he updated his personal mindscape to include that painting- in the meadow amongst his happiest memories, Harry set a picnic table, and the four men. A never-empty bottle of firewhisky should keep them happy, Harry thought. He stood in front of Jacques' door about to knock, when he heard a slight snore from inside. He smiled slightly. I'll leave him to his rest. I only just left him, anyways.

That left Harry to roam the halls of Delacour Manor for the night. Perhaps he'd visit their library, and find a good sci-fi. Jacques struck him as the kind of man to cater to all needs and interests. The corridors of the manor house were quiet as Harry strode through the halls, silent as a ghostly mouse. The occasional wall sconce was lit to illuminate the way through the hallways. The floorboards were hard and cold beneath Harry's feet as he plodded barefoot- Dudley's old trainers had long since kicked out. Actually, Harry could probably do with some new clothes. Down the hallway was an open door, with a small line of light spilling out from the ajar door. Interested, Harry swept forward and held himself next to the door jamb. Inside was the occasional sound of rustling cloth, and a page turning now and then. Harry grinned, as he realised he'd found the library. Deciding to test his skills for the first time, against an almost definitely non-offensive person.

Harry peeked around the jamb, and spotted a table on the other side of the large room. At the table was a young, silver-blonde girl that was curled up in a soft leather armchair. Harry knew that it was Gabrielle. He had only seen her (in real time) two, maybe three months ago, and yet she looked to have already grown. According to the books on sentient magical creatures he had studied, Veela matured at a much faster rate once adolescence kicked in. So when he'd saved her from the lake, and she looked like she was eight or nine… it was entirely possible that she was thirteen or fourteen. Fifteen if she was unlucky. Harry, as he was now, was seventeen years old. She wouldn't recognise him, he was sure. He snuck around the outside wall of the library, until he was directly behind her. Slowly stalking forwards, he considered his options. Should I make her fall asleep, or scare the shot outta her? If I do, though… Jacques will end up waking up to 'rescue' his daughter! Decided, Harry raised his wand over the lip of the chair, and silently cast Sopor Somnia. The spell settled over the young girl, gradually leading her to a deep sleep in which she would dream vividly. Harry stood. He moved around the chair, seeing Gabrielle had truly fallen asleep. He took the book from her hands, noticing the title as he did so. 'I, Robot' by Isaac Asimov. A bit advanced, isn't it?

Flicking through, Harry noticed a very interesting aspect- one robot- 'Sonny'- had been given special abilities by his creator. He was independent. He could think. He could fear. He understood. Harry thought about the mannequin he'd kept from the room. Maybe…

Harry smiled. He placed a bookmark in the book, where Gabrielle had left it. He set the book down in her arms, noticing as he did so that she had a very pretty blush amongst the light brown freckles strewn across her nose. Harry lent in a bit, and tucked the younger girl's hair back behind her ear. Backing away, Harry then went to look at the bookshelf that the book had obviously come from. He picked them all up one by one, and flicked through the pages, resting every now and then when an interesting idea came up. Harry was particularly interested in teleportation, genetics, futuristic weapons, and what could collectively be called 'super powers'. The X-Men were favourites thus far, as well as Luke Skywalker from Star Wars. He knew that he could undertake a project as part of the Ancient Runes elective- maybe he could make one of these 'lightsaber' things?

It was approaching breakfast time when Harry put down the last book. He slipped it onto the bookshelf, just as he heard a faint rustling behind him. Whipping around, Harry saw Gabrielle sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. As the girl lowered her hands, Harry dived behind a sofa that was standing between him and her. Gabrielle, not knowing Harry was in the room with her, started to speak to herself, as one does on occasion.

"Another dream about Harry… Papa said he would be here soon, but how soon? The Bond cannot wait too long, Mamant said so!" Gabrielle huffed in frustration, as she moved to leave the library.

As soon as she was out of the room, Harry stood up and made his way to the doorway. Checking the coast was clear, he slid out of the still-ajar door and down the hallway, back to Jacques' office. Standing outside again, he knocked lightly, to announce his presence, and then entered.

While he had been gone, the curtains had been drawn and Jacques had been covered in a warm quilt. It's time to have some fun! Harry grinned, as he slowly stepped over to the armchair that he had occupied nearly three years and six hours before, and sat down. Next, he pointed his wand at Jacques' hair, standing up as it was.

"Flipendo". Harry shot the revulsion jinx at the man's hair, causing it to flap and tug away from the man's head. The Frenchman gradually woke up to an annoying feeling- someone was tugging his hair.

"mmblmmll… Apolline, stop please, I just wanna mmnlmmll…" Harry continued to cast the short-lasting spell until Jacques opened his eyes and looked around.

A/N: OK, OK, I'm sorry it's been three days late, I was at a party/ work… But, I may be writing more, which might mean more than one chapter for you guys… Maybe. As always, keep the reviews coming in! I'm amazed I've had 3,000 visits already. Some random schmuck in China was reading HPatBK, which I'm damn proud about!

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