February 26th, 845

With a crutch and a mind full of worry, Harry Potter made his way back up the hill towards the Marleyan trench. His friends would no doubt be waiting for him within the Warrior cabin. He kept his eye on his surroundings to make sure they didn't pass him again. Harry's pace was slow and tedious, but the speed he was going proved almost too much. He was already building sweat on his brow, and his right leg felt tight and sore. The labor done on his body during and after the battle had been hideous, reversing months of hard work in training his body to perfection. I'm weak now. I'm crippled. I'm useless.

Harry's stolen dreams echoed through his mind as he stepped down the ramp, moving toward the Warrior's cabin. Those who passed him gave him mixed expressions of awe and pity, something that bothered him very much. He didn't deserve their awe. He didn't want it. And Harry sure as hell didn't want their pity. His situation had been self-inflicted. He was too weak to keep the shield up. He had been too slow to drop to the ground along with Porco and Bertholdt. And he had been too irrational in removing the pellets from his wound himself. If any of these weaknesses hadn't been there, then perhaps his situation would be different. Perhaps his leg would be healed. Perhaps it wouldn't have been shot.

But Harry was quick to chasten himself. His injury had nothing to do with his reaction time or his healing abilities. It had been the person who shot him's fault. Harry was the victim in this scenario. His life had been ruined by one lone Middle-Eastern soldier. In that moment of realization, Harry's eyes burnt with rage towards the soldier that had done it, as well as the Middle-Eastern Alliance itself.

Once again, he corrected himself. The soldier had been doing their job. They were defending their fortress, following orders. They fired at Harry with the intent of saving their friends and fellow soldiers. They had seen their shot and they took it. Harry knew that deep down that - despite their differences in country or race - every soldier was the same. They all followed their orders. They all took their shot when they saw it. Harry's rage cooled into self-pity as he thought of the soldier. He had been killed immediately after...eaten by a Pure Titan. Harry pictured their death. Tried to find joy in the memory. But he couldn't do it. It was too much. It was too horrible of a thing to imagine.

And so he emptied his thoughts, stepping up to the Warriors cabin with his worry beginning to fade. With a burst of strength, he didn't know he had, Harry opened the door. As suspected, the other Warriors were already inside. Reiner and Marcel were asleep. Porco was lying on his bunk staring at the ceiling. Bertholdt was reading a book, and Pieck and Annie were playing a game of chess together on Pieck's bed. At the sound of the door opening, the four of them all turned to face him. Their reactions were all different.

Porco watched Harry with a very impassive look, while Bertholdt looked on in surprise. Annie seemed surprised to see him, but she kept her face even. And Pieck looked overjoyed to see him outside of his coma, being the first to jump up from her bed. She rushed forward to hug him, but she stopped suddenly at the sight of his crutch. Harry frowned. Had they not been told about his injury? He sighed. "When I pulled out the shrapnel, I tore several nerves in my leg. I won't be able to walk normally again,"

"You'll have to use that...all the time?" Bertholdt asked. Harry replied with a sad nod. Everyone in the room peered down at Harry's crutch, unsure of how to respond to that. They all knew he was the strongest of them behind Annie, and now he was reduced to this? They couldn't believe it. Their expressions all soured. Reiner and Marcel woke up, the commotion of Harry's return stirring them. Marcel spoke. "Harry?"

"I'm alive,"

"We didn't know," said Reiner. "They didn't let us see you,"

"I snuck in once," Annie countered.

The others all gave her odd looks of annoyance and shock, but they turned back to Harry. "They told me my leg won't get better, so I'll have to walk around with this for the rest of my life. I won't be able to join you guys in training...or battle,"

Porco sat up. "So...you're just a tactician now?"

"I think so..."

"And the Founder?"

Harry's eyes widened. The Founding Titan. He had completely forgotten about that. His mind had been so focused on his lost future that the thoughts of the Founder and Paradis had all but vanished. But they were back, and Harry couldn't help but question whether or not it was possible. The power of the titans would restore his body to its past state. It would restore him. His body. His hopes. His dreams. It would bring back everything. Harry's eyes glistened with a glimmer of hope. But then it faded. They wouldn't send him on such a dangerous mission in his state. They would send someone else. Either that or they would bring the Founding Titan to Marley. It would take years before the Founding Titan could be his. It was a lost cause.

"I'm not sure if they'd let me have it in my condition," Harry replied.

Reiner got to his feet. "Why not? The power of the titans would restore your body. It would fix your leg,"

"The General wouldn't send me,"

"Send you? To Paradis?"

"Yes. He wouldn't send me on the mission. I would be a detriment to the team,"

"Wait. So a mission to Paradis is happening? When? And who's going?" asked Marcel.

"I can't tell you. It's confidential. I've already told you too much," Harry stepped back, suddenly uncomfortable with the situation he had placed himself in. But he couldn't leave. Harry needed to be here. He needed to make sure his team was alright. He needed to make sure they were still with him. "When the General does let me tell you, I will. Immediately," This seemed to do the trick. They visibly relaxed, smiling openly. Pieck reached forward, grabbing hold of Harry's wrist as she pulled him towards her bed. She was gentle, allowing him to make slow and steady steps to avoid falling over.

He took a seat next to Annie, who had moved the chessboard aside to give him room. Harry sat between the two of them while the others gathered around. "What's been going on since the battle? I noticed everyone was helping in clean-up,"

"We've been cleaning up the city for the past couple of weeks, but they told us we would be going back to Liberio once you woke up," Bertholdt replied. "Now that you're awake, I'm sure we'll be going home in a few days,"

"Until then?"

"We help more. They still need our help with the rubble and the bodies," said Reiner.

"It should be easier. I cleared out a lot of it myself after I woke up,"

Porco raised an eyebrow. "You helped in clean-up?"

"Well, I can't necessarily drag or carry bodies or pick up debris. But I used my magic to repair a lot of the surrounding damage. I think I got five miles. The damage should be fully repaired in a couple of weeks if we stay," Harry explained. Then he frowned. "But since we might be leaving soon, repairs might take even longer,"

"So you should rest," They all turned to the door. It was Zeke. "I've talked with the General, and he wants you to assist in cleaning up your mess. We will not be returning to Liberio until you've cleaned up everything you damaged. Seeing as that could take some time, I recommend you get some rest. You'll need it to perform your magic,"

"Sir...about what I said before," Silence. "About Marley and the Armed Forces," Zeke's eyes widened in recognition. Harry's hunch had been right. Someone in the Warriors had told Zeke or Magath about what Harry had said about his sister. It was most likely Porco. Or Reiner. The two of them were so focused on the Marley propaganda shoved into their faces that they were the most likely to throw any non-supporters to the General. "I want you to know that I didn't mean it. I was very tired on the day of the battle. From stress. I have nothing but love and loyalty for Marley and its Armed Forces,"

Zeke's expression softened so slightly that Harry was sure he was the only one that noticed. "I understand. I will relay this to the General. Now sleep. You will be needed tomorrow," He left, leaving the other Warriors alone in the cabin. Reiner was watching Harry curiously, and Porco was already climbing into bed. Harry tried to stand up, but something was wrong. The bed was too close to the floor. He wouldn't have the strength to stand up on his own. Slightly embarrassed, Harry whispered. "I can't stand up. Can someone help me?"

No one offered. Reiner, Bertholdt, and Marcel had all climbed into their beds to sleep. And Annie seemed too comfortable against Harry's shoulder to register that he had even said anything at all. So it was Pieck that whispered back. "You can sleep in my bed. I'll take yours," Harry smiled gratefully. After a half-hour of silence, Pieck got to her feet and moved towards Harry's bed, lying down on it so that she was facing him. Annie too got up, moving over onto her bed as she faced the ceiling. With the bed to himself, Harry laid down, and in an hour he was asleep.

March 29th, 845

For a month, Harry did nothing but fix the mistake he had made during the battle. He woke up every morning at 6 am, leaving the Warriors Cabin for one of the many cities he had destroyed. Harry would repair the cities he destroyed in increments of five miles, taking a few hours of rest in between. But the natural land - the earth and the trees he had destroyed - were all unrepairable for him. Harry wasn't sure exactly what was wrong with his magic, but he couldn't seem to repair anything natural.

But despite this hurdle in the reconstruction process, Harry was eventually able to rebuild everything he had destroyed in the Battle for the Fortress nearly two months before. All the debris between the ocean and the fortress had been reused to repair buildings in respective cities. And the bodies littered all over the countryside had all been displaced into a single spot where they could be retrieved. All that was left was to plant new trees into the dry soil and bring exotic wildlife into the new forests in the hopes of repairing the destroyed ecosystem. If everything went well, the damage could be reversed in five to ten years.

On March 29th, the restoration process was complete, and the Warriors were gathered within their cabin by War Chief Zeke Yeager. "With the Restoration Project complete, the General has given us the green light to return to Liberio. Pack your bags. We will be departing in the morning," Without another word, Zeke left the cabin in silence, leaving behind seven excited children. The Warriors were in a rush, packing their things at the speed of sound in an attempt to speed up the process. But it didn't seem to help.

With their packing done, the Warriors were left with nothing to do. And so they decided to get some training in. Harry followed his friends outside into the trench, his slower pace evident in how much further his friends were along the trench. But he wasn't alone. Like always, Harry still had his thoughts. His mind. The instrument of his genius, his power, his fame, his pain. His mind reeled all the time with possibilities. Of futures. Of events. Of unlikely scenarios bound to him by fever dreams and lost hopes. But he didn't just fantasize. He also planned. With the information, he knew was true, Harry planned for every scenario that was possible. He thought about his powers and how he could evolve them. He thought of Liberio. His parents. His sister. They would be waiting for him when he returned the next evening.

But would they welcome him as their son? The boy who had left them so many years before? Or would they welcome him as a Warrior? As the Hizuru dubbed 'Boy-Who-Killed'? Would they see him as their son? Or just the reason for their elevated status in the world? And what would his sister think? She was just two, yes, but would she know who he was? Would his parents have told her about him? How cute he had been as a child? How he loved space and the stars? How every night his parents read him books to help him fall asleep? Did they remember these memories now, six years later? Would they remember him?

Of course, they remembered him. They remembered the way he had been. The genius little boy who had been chosen from early on to be recruited into the Warriors program. They remembered the young boy without any friends, a social outcast who had been so displaced from his life outside of home that leaving to become a Warrior hadn't been a second thought. They would not remember him for who he was now. They would be repulsed by him if it wasn't for the status he brought them. They would see him as a murderer. As a freak with abilities unimaginable to even the Subjects of Ymir.

No.

He was giving them too little credit. He could barely remember them, let alone their flaws. They could be the most perfect parents in the world, caring for him despite his abilities and the countless murders he had caused. They could love him so much that they whispered prayers for him every night before they slept. They could love him so much that they showed pictures of him to his infant sister every day, just so she would know the face of her older brother. Yes. He focused on that future. The future in which his family loved him. Because family was the most important thing in anyone's life, whether your family was blood or not. Friends passed and went, disappearing into the void of life as they carried on with their adventures. But family. Families ventured into the darkness together, hand in hand as their faith in each other shined through the darkness.

Harry had faith in his parents and his family. He had faith in his fellow Warriors as well. He had faith in Annie. In Pieck. In Reiner. Bertholdt. Marcel. And even Porco. He had faith in them all. That one day they would fulfill their destinies and bring light back into the darkness of the world. Whether they brought the light in, or they helped someone else do it, Harry didn't doubt that they would all have a contribution.

And yet Harry had no faith in himself. The wells of faith and love in his heart had been spent on his family and dearest friends, leaving him empty and dry inside. He didn't believe in his abilities. His fame. His destiny. What was his destiny now that he was a cripple? How could the universe make use of him now that he was useless to his cause? How could he overcome the hurdles placed in front of him if he couldn't even run to gain speed? How could he focus on a single task with all of these thoughts rummaging through his mind all at once? How could he improve his powers if he had no understanding of how they worked? And how could Harry live with all of this pain dwelling in his heart?

The questions in his mind went unanswered for the duration of their walk. It wasn't until he reached them at the drill field that he began to wonder. When the Warriors left for Paradis, there were two outcomes present. He would be on the boat traveling to the island, or he would be watching the others leave without him. But the second outcome wasn't entirely bad, seeing as he could always sneak onboard. So once he arrived on Paradis, he would either have to help the others find the Founding Titan, or he would have to find it himself, without the help of his friends.

Harry would get the Founding Titan's power one way or another, and he would be returned to the form he had once lost. His life would be returned to him, and when it did return, he would carry out the endless number of plans he had formulated within his mind. So it was decided. Harry would go to Paradis. He would find the Founding Titan. And when the Coordinate was within his grasp, Harry would take it and rebuild his destiny.

"Potter," It was Magath. "I can't help but notice you're not training," Harry eyed the man with a hint of annoyance, something the General caught instantly. He laughed. "Oh, I'm not dumb, boy. I know you can't run with your friends anymore. But that isn't what I was suggesting. I was insinuating that you could perhaps use this time to build upon your magical abilities. Meditation seemed to help when you were training at Fort Tatakai,"

His eyes widened, and Harry realized that the man was right. Meditating had helped Harry gain quite a lot of progress during his training years before. But he had stopped meditating due to how time-consuming it was, seeing as he was needed for battle strategies, physical training, and war. But as he thought about it, Harry decided that perhaps meditation would be good for him. A way to clear his head. A way to find some sort of inner peace everyone seemed to think he was missing. So with a bit of help from the General, Harry took a seat on the dirt and closed his eyes. He sends the General to sit down beside him, but Harry tried not to focus on that. He instead focused on his breathing.

He imagined a stream of white light surging into his lungs from his nose before a similar grey light was thrust from his mouth into the open air. Harry imagined this exchange for several minutes, his breathing slowing until he barely made a sound. It was then that he moved. He moved his arms from his lap, placing the tips of each of his fingers on the ground below him. He reached out. Harry felt the dirt. The tiny stones. The tiny worms slither around him. And then he felt them. The worms. The rats in the trenches. The birds in the sky. The fish in the river. He felt them all. He could feel their life the way he felt his own. He saw through their eyes. Smelt through their noses. Tasted through their mouths. Heard from their ears. He was them. And they were him.

Harry could not feel the dirt, despite connecting with the creatures around him. He could not sense it like he could sense the worms or fish. He could not feel the mantle of the Earth, or the solid core lying at its center. It was out of reach. So how had he managed to manipulate the elements the way he had? How could he force water from the ocean two hundred miles away? How could he create a maelstrom of such power without being able to so much as feel the Earth? How was it possible? Harry didn't understand.

But understanding wasn't the purpose of this. The purpose of meditation was to clear one's mind. To reattune them to the world around them. And he had done that. If he continued to practice, perhaps Harry could find the dirt beneath him. Perhaps the reason he couldn't feel it now was because of some sort of mental block. If he got past the block and focused on expanding his mind, Harry could feel the dirt. He knew it was possible. He knew that this was the answer. And so he cleared his mind once more, focusing solely on his breathing. The worms, the rats, the fish, the birds. They all came to him again. Only he didn't get much time to be with them.

"Potter!" Harry's eyes shot open. He peered to his left, where General Magath was standing, a shocked expression on his face. The other Warriors had all stopped their training and were watching him as well. "What the hell did you do?" He asked, motioning to Harry himself. Harry - beyond confused - peered down at himself. He was immediately shocked. His entire body was covered in creatures. Worms were wrapped around his fingers. Snakes had wrapped around his waist and arms. Birds had landed on his head and shoulders. Rats had climbed into his lap. The animals he had seen before. They had been drawn to him. "Well?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to draw them here," Harry replied. He shook the animals off. They didn't protest. They merely separated from him and slithered/ran/flew off into the distance. Harry wiped himself off and - with the help of General Magath - got to his feet. "I was meditating. I could sense the animals around me, and it seems they could sense me. I'm sure they were just curious,"

"You can...sense animals?" Magath asked.

"And humans. I could sense you the entire time you were next to me, but I lost you when I lost my train of thought. I need to work on that," Harry replied. The others didn't speak. They merely watched him as he took a seat once more, closing his eyes to continue his meditations. When they were certain no more creatures would swarm him, they continued their training. The General stepped away, moving back to the trenches. Left with his thoughtless mind, Harry smiled.