A Portal to the Hellmouth

by CiceroTjones

In a world Voldemort destroyed in his maniacal quest for domination, Harry Potter steps through the mislabeled Veil of Death and into a different universe filled with vampires, demons and a slayer.

11. Chapter 11

A/N: Well, it has been way too long, hasn't it. Obviously, life got in the way and all that. I moved on to writing that got me paid, though usually not enough. The other day I stumbled upon this manuscript and realized I had almost finished the story. Why not put it up and give the story some closure though I couldn't help adding a little hook at the end for a potential sequel but I'm not holding my breath. Hope everyone enjoys the final act of Portal to the Hellmouth.

Chapter 11

A few minutes earlier…

Harry and Buffy flew over the Thames at breakneck speed while his's ear recovered from the glass shattering scream Buffy gave after his dive. He focused on the needle of his conjured compass as it pointed directly to Hermione, well a Hermione, he had to remind himself, not his.

Shaking maudlin thoughts from his head, he focused on the task at hand. Find Hermione. Save Hermione. Make the people who took Hermione pay. Then… he didn't know.

Harry tilted the broom to avoid a tug boat, flying within feet of its hull. Buffy somehow squeezed harder as they passed it. Harry thanked Merlin his duster contained constriction protection charms or he'd have broken or ruptured something by now. Not that he would have minded much.

No, he though. Those kind of thoughts wouldn't help now either. He wanted no distractions to the mission.

Suddenly, the golden arrow reversed itself. They had passed her.

"We are close," he said, "get ready."

Buffy gave a short squeeze as he made a wide turn gaining altitude. The Thames had opened into its estuary and there were a few large ships around the point where the compass changed. Harry flew the broom over them, slower than the first pass, staring at the compass and waiting for it to flip. It did so as they passed over the second ship, a container ship.

Harry turned to find a good landing spot, flying low coming from the back of the ship when a jet of flames burst from a large balcony behind the tower, fading after a few moments. That was worthy of investigating. He nudged the broom to the left to get a better look.

Sensing a huge magical draw, Harry felt the air temp dropped at least 20 degrees in a second. Below, the water around the back of the ship suddenly froze, lifting up in the water, bobbing like a giant ice cube.

Before Harry could begin to process what the hell just happened. The jet of flames intensified, covering half of the balcony before it suddenly disappeared.

Flying closer, Harry saw Hermione on her knees at the edge of the balcony shielding a prone purple skinned girl. Opposite her on the balcony, stood a man holding a revolver. Three men stood behind him, one carrying an axe.

"Time to make an entrance," he said, "the man with the gun is mine. I'll pop over there once you jump off."

"Good, I can go axe to axe. That's always fun," replied Buffy, "can you drop me on the far edge of the balcony?"

Harry nodded, making the turn and canceling the charms hiding the broom and its riders. Buffy jumped once he slowed, landing behind the men in a summersault.

Pulling up and accelerating, Harry shrunk the broom, stashing it his pocket and drew his wand. Free falling for another second, he dissaperated.

Reappearing in front of Hermione, Harry glared at the man approaching her. He held his gun pointed up into the air, but that wasn't going to change a thing. Glancing past him, Harry watched Buffy knock out the two unarmed men with a quick strike with the blunt of the ax head to the back of the head of one and another strike with the handle end to the other. The third and final man turned and Buffy smiled at him, readying her axe.

"I'm going to give you a Choi..." Harry started to say, mainly to distract the gunman and let Buffy finish dealing with the last, "Actually, no, I don't have time for this."

Harry sent a silent stunner at the gunman, sending him skipping across the floor. Too much power, he realized, more than anything he needed to maintain his control.

He turned around. Hermione stared at him in confusion. With several blood stains marring the jeans and jumper she wore, Harry worried if they were too late. Bruises, suspiciously shaped like hand prints wrapping around her neck sparked a rage inside him he hadn't felt since his world died.

The bleeding concerned him the most. Two small rivers of blood tricked from her nostrils. Worse and more disturbing, bloody tears dribbled down her cheeks, unshed tears of blood clouding her eyes.

"Harry?" she asked her voice weak as her eyes drooped and she slumped to the side.

He caught her before her head hit the deck, gently setting her down and casting a diagnostic charm. He almost dropped his wand at the results.

She suffered from severe dehydration and was down a pint of blood. Somehow, the spell diagnosed her with both heat stroke and hypothermia. The arteries from her heart to her hands showed excessive scaring, those in her left hand seemed particularly affected, the ones in the palm looked shredded. Without intervention, she would lose that hand for sure.

Harry had to take an extra moment to interpret the magical core results. From his conversations with Willow and Giles, he knew that witches, just witches because they called wizards witches here for some reason, lacked a magical core but could channel magical energies that they created or that were collected in the body. Giles' explanation was a bit beyond him, though so he hoped he had it correct.

Normally, this general diagnostic spell showed the strength of the core using a color chart centered at the point where the neck meets the torso. With Hermione, several areas on her body lit up symmetrically: large spots on either side of her neck, armpits and hips with smaller ones in her knees and wrists.

They glowed an endlessly deep purple, not just empty, beyond empty. Had this been his Hermione she would be dead within the hour. Witches and wizards died when their core was this depleted. Heck, even squibs with their nascent cores and would die if they were this depleted. Harry knew how to treat this but not how it would work with a witch of this world. In her condition, a bad reaction to the treatment and she could die but the same could be said for not treating her.

First, Harry would have to adapt the spell. In essence, the treatment was a magical infusion. With no magic in the core, it couldn't regenerate the magic the witch needed to live. Just as with blood in a muggle hospital, a donor could share a portion of their magic to restart the core. This generally took very little magic and the donor's healthy core would replace the transfusion in a few hours at most.

Harry's hang-up was in the execution of the spell. In the usual practice the donor would place their hands over the recipient's core. Hermione looked to have several and a few of them were in places he felt entirely uncomfortable to touch. The neck seemed like a safe place to try.

Harry placed two fingers where the glowing spots on the neck were, whispering the spell while trickling a little magic through his fingers, eyes closed. He kept it at this lower level for several moments and then increased the flow. Almost immediately this went weird. Hermione's core seemed to grab the transfer of magic and pull, hard. He tried to shut it off, but her cores kept drawing his magic.

Eyes now wide, he wrenched his hands away from her neck. Arcs of blue tinged energy coursed from them leading back to her neck. He jerked his hands as far away from her as he could and the connection broke with a thunderclap, blowing Harry off his feet.

Buffy reached his side almost immediately.

"Are you ok?" she said, "Was that supposed to happen?"

"No and no," answered Harry, fighting the ringing in his ears while he stood up.

Hermione hadn't moved an inch. He approached her again, casting the core diagnostic. The cores on the neck showed as blood red: full, almost too full. Pulsating veins of magical energy connected the neck cores to the half full green cores in the armpits. Further veins connected all of her mini cores. While he wasn't certain, it looked like feeding the first two was enough. Hermione has magical streams instead of a core. Harry really wanted to cast this diagnostic on Willow now.

A groan from behind Harry startled him. He leapt into spin, brandishing his wand. Buffy, who had reached his side impossibly fast, put a hand on his arm to lower his wand.

The groan came from the purple girl. Harry had forgotten about her when he discovered Hermione's condition. She laid in a fetal position on top of an assault rifle, holding her bleeding shoulder and tangled in the strap of the gun.

Giles has given him a short overview of demon species and how not all demons were evil, but he never mentioned a purple skinned one.

"Any idea if she is a good or a bad demon?" Harry asked,

"You could always ask me," the girl replied in a pained growl, before Buffy could speak. "And how do I know you are good guys."

"Hermione looked to be protecting her when we flew by," said Buffy, "I think she is ok."

"We're here to save Hermione." Harry said to her. "We are her… friends, I guess."

"What did you do to her?" The girl demanded.

She tried to escape the tangled strap, but stopped suddenly with a painful gasp, holding her shoulder.

"I started to heal her magical streams," he replied, approaching the girl with his wand ready. "She would have died had I not been able to start that. She's out of danger, at least for the moment, but she's going to be out for a while."

"I told her she was using too much," the girl gave up on moving, slumping down, "but she kept pushing it."

Harry had cast a diagnostic spell on the girl as she talked. Blood loss and a bullet wound with the bullet lodged in her shoulder were the worst of her injuries.

"I'm going to want the whole story once we get you out of here," he said, "but first I'm going to fix your shoulder."

Casting a numbing charm on her shoulder, he had never removed a bullet, death eaters avoided muggle weapons but he had Accioed his share of shrapnel from himself after scrapes with them. He knew this would hurt like hell without something to ease the pain.

Moving his wand in line with the hole, he lightly placed his left hand on her good shoulder.

"This might sting a bit, but I have to get the bullet out before healing the wound," he said, squeezing her good shoulder reassuringly, "accio bullet."

The girl flinched as the bullet, now an oddly shaped scrap of metal dripping with blood, slowly exited the wound, opening it further and increasing the flow of blood. It stuck to the end of Harry's wand. He pulled it off and offered it to the girl.

"Want a souvenir of your brush with death?" he asked.

The girl gently took the bullet in her hand, staring at it for a moment before putting it in her pocket. Harry waved his wand over the wound, causing it to close up. With another wave he cast a diagnostic on the area. The bullet had chipped her shoulder blade, which his healing spell didn't fix and she would have quite the bruise but he stopped any internal bleeding.

"The bulled chipped your shoulder blade but I stopped the bleeding," he said, offering her his hand to help her up, "it's time to get you two out of here."

"No!" she replied, pulling her hand away, "we can't leave the others."

"Others?" Buffy and Harry asked in unison.

"We were held in a container down below with a group of girls and little kids," she said, pointing to Hermione, "she figured out how to use magic to escape, but the other girls were too scared to join us. We were going to try and save them too."

Harry stepped back, glancing at Hermione's prone form while Buffy stared daggers at the unconscious men. Noticing her gaze, Harry cast several incarceruses with a wave of his wand. Thick ropes came into being wrapping the men from the shoulders down.

"Give me five minutes," he said, picking up the rifle Hermione had dropped and waving his wand over it and strapping it over his shoulder, "I'm going to take Hermione to my tent after I fix her hand. How did she cut it by the way?"

"On one of my horns. She did it on purpose" the purple girl said, looking down, "the blood made her magic stronger."

"Merlin, that explains the damage to her veins," he said, shaking his head, "I'd say my Hermione would have been smarter than that, but she'd have risked everything to save innocents."

He walked over to Hermione with his hand deep in his potion pouch, searching for the smallest and most precious bottle. The damage to her hand was well beyond his healing skills and he doubted that a muggle doctor could save it. He only knew of one option though a selfish part of him didn't want use his last drop. Phoenix tears, or in this case a single phoenix tear, made for a comfortable security blanket.

It was his fault though and even if he failed to save his own Hermione, he could save this one. Dropping down next to Hermione, he pulled the tiny bottle from his potion pouch, gently picking up her left hand and pouring the single perfect drop into the wound. It started to heal immediately, closing without leaving a scar. Harry stood and cast a diagnostic. The tear started to heal the damage to the veins in her hand, spreading up the arm.

Flicking his wand, Hermione rose into the air. He took her hand, looking back at Buffy and the demon girl.

"Like I said, five minutes," he said, popping a tic tac in his mouth and disappearing.

He reappeared in the back corner of the Summers' garden, squinting his eyes in the early evening sun. Willow jumped up from a chair she had been sitting in outside of the tent, the book she was reading tumbling to the ground.

"Harry!" she said, her eyes wide upon seeing the floating Hermione, "is that her? Did you save her? Where's Buffy? Where did you get the gun?"

"Slow down," he replied, holding out a hand, "this is Hermione but she wasn't alone so I've got to go back once I get her in the tent. We're going to save the others but she's going to be out for a while."

He started walking towards the tent pulling the floating Hermione behind him.

"The Potters are all asleep, at least they were when I left the tent," she said, "your other self was sleeping on one of the couches so we should be quiet."

Harry nodded and entered the tent, walking to the couch not occupied by his other self. Pointing his wand down, Hermione slowly dropped to the couch. He moved to his workbench writing a quick note for her in case she woke before Harry returned. He placed the note on top of the end table and turned to leave.

"We'll be back as soon as we can," he said to Willow once outside the tent, "the people who had Hermione were keeping her with other girls and some kids. We have to get them out too. Can you hold down the fort for a while longer?"

Willow nodded.

"Thanks a bunch," he said, stepping away from her, saying "Slytherin" and disappearing.

Reappearing back on the ship, he scanned the balcony looking for Buffy and the demon girl, finding them standing over the old man he stunned. Buffy turned towards him, having heard his entrance.

"We were going to question him," she said, "but we couldn't wake him up."

"I'll wake him once we get the rest of the prisoners to safety," Harry replied, patting his potion pouch, "I have ways of making him talk."

"Hopefully painful ones," said the demon girl. She held her hand out to Harry. "I'm Chloe by the way. We never did introductions when you fixed my shoulder."

"Harry," he said, shaking her hand, "now why don't you lead us to the rest of the girls.

Nodding, Chloe walked to the door, trying to turn the handle.

"Hermione sealed the door," she said, pointing to the window, "they had to break through the window to chase us."

Intrigued, Harry approached the door, trying it himself. The handle didn't budge at all. He cast an unlocking charm with the ring on his left hand, trying the handle again. Still no movement. Trying again with his wand didn't help. Looking closely at the handle he discovered that she hadn't just locked the door, she fused the metal parts of the handle.

Harry stepped back and vanished the door with a flick of the wand, walking through the empty doorway into a large room with staircases going up and down to one side and two ruined doors to the front. The wooden doors had been hacked to bits from the other side.

"I'm guessing Hermione sealed those doors too?" he asked.

"Yeah, she figured it would be easier than knocking out all the people inside," she replied, shivering while looking at one of the doors, "someone opened that door before she could seal it and I shot him."

Buffy gave Chloe's good shoulder a squeeze.

"You were in a life-or-death situation," she said, "if you hadn't shot him, you two might not have lasted until we got here."

Chloe nodded and walked towards the staircase. "We need to go down a floor," she said, "then outside."

They found a body on the staircase going up with a couple of gunshot wounds.

"Hermione shot him," she said, adding "but he shot at us first."

Harry hated the idea that Hermione had been forced to kill. If this Hermione was anything like his, she would hate it too and given her body count here, she would loath how good she was at it.

Shaking that thought from his head, he followed the girls down the stairs, continuing down the hall Chloe indicated. Before they reached the door a loud thump sounded from behind one of the doors. Harry and Buffy instantly turned towards the noise, Buffy readying her axe and Harry his wand.

"Hello! I'm Stuck!" yelled a muffled voice, "Did we hit something!? Did I hear Gunshots!?"

"Hermione locked him in too," she said. "He had a gun so he might be one of the people in charge of the girls."

"Good to know," Harry replied, lowering his wand, "I'll want to talk to him later."

They continued, following Chloe out the door and down towards the front. She stopped between two stacks containers, opened a hatch and climbed down, continuing towards the front in a new hallway.

"Hold on," Buffy said, kneeling down to look at a smudge on the ground, "this is vampire dust. There was a vampire on board."

"Hermione killed it when it tried to choke her," Chloe nodded. "We stashed an unconscious guy behind this door but Hermione sealed it, so he's not getting out for a while."

Chloe led them further along the hallway, through another door and down several flights of stairs. Walking down a hallway of shipping containers, they reached their destination.

Harry stared at the rusted hole in the storage unit for a few moments, slack jawed at the innovative solution. His Hermione would have vanished the door, performed an unlocking spell or even apparated past it. Rusting it? Never, but adversity is often a good teacher, as his Hermione often remarked, but this sort of literally out of the box thinking was something else.

"It's in here," Chloe said, crouching through the hole.

They followed her, Harry lighting his ring after entering the dark container, his light illuminated another hole on the wall near the other side of the container. Chloe walked past it, looking at a couple of backpacks in the corner.

"You said you were Hermione's friends, right?" Chloe asked, unsure, "you wouldn't steal from her, would you?"

"The only thing I have ever stolen from Hermione Granger were her class notes," Harry replied truthfully, "and maybe a quill or two."

"OK," she said, opening one of the backpacks, "then I might need some magical help with these. We decided that we should split this with all the other prisoners but they are really heavy."

She held up a handful of gold coins. Harry heard Buffy gasp next to him. She walked up and picked up one of the bags.

"This has to weigh at least 100 pounds," she said, her words faltering, "that's like half a million dollars' worth of gold."

"You two should have a share as well," Chloe said, "you saved us, it's only fair."

"I have my own," said Harry, pulling a gold coin from his coat pocket, "so you can spread my share with the others."

"Well, I don't," rebutted Buffy, turning to Harry with a sly grin, "but I might have to let you take me shopping sometime."

"When you have your share, I'll let you take me shopping," He replied, pointing his wand to the bags, "I just made them light as a feather but I have a better suggestion than just dividing up the gold. We can convert it into cash and put that in bank accounts. Carrying around thousands of dollars in gold is just not a good idea… unless you are a wizard and can carry it in your magical coat."

"That should work, I guess," Chloe answered with a nod.

Harry shrunk the bags and placed them in one of his pouches.

"Through here," Chloe said, pointing to the hole in the wall before crawling through.

Harry shook Buffy out of her stupor, likely dreaming about what she was going to buy, before climbing entering the hole. She blushed and followed Harry.

"I'm trying to help you!" Chloe yelled towards the far end of the container, holding her hands up placatingly.

Even in the dim light of the few electric lamps hanging from the ceiling of the container, Harry could see at least two dozen women and children, cowering in the far end of the container.

"Maybe we shouldn't share the gold with them," she grumbled quietly, crossing her arms and turning to Harry, "they are too afraid of me. They won't listen."

Harry turned to address the girls but was interrupted by a muffled voice on a loud speaker.

"This is HMS Shetland to Container Ship Kadik," it said, barely audible through the ship's hull, "HMS Shetland to Container Ship Kadik, you have failed to respond to several hails and are currently adrift in the shipping lane. Respond and correct your course or you will be boarded."

"Well, we just ran out of time," said Harry, pulling a tic-tac container from a belt pouch, "time for us to get out of here."

"What about them," replied Chloe as she pointed to the girls in the far end of the container, "we can't just leave them."

"The Coast Guard is about to board the ship, they should be fine," Harry replied, "we will have to distribute their take of the gold later. I'll let Hermione manage that. If she is anything like my Hermione, she will love it."

"Can we trust the Coast Guard?" she asked, "and what do you mean your Hermione?"

"Long story," he replied, handing a Tic Tac to Chloe and then Buffy, "these will take you back to Buffy's house, just bite on it. I'll be following soon, once I make sure the girls are safe."

Chloe gave the mint in her hand a dubious look. Buffy nodded at Harry.

"Be careful, Harry," she said, tossing the Tic-Tac into her mouth, "and don't do anything stupid, or extra stupid in your case."

She winked and bit down before Harry could reply, disappearing.

Flinching back, Chloe turned to Harry, her mouth agape. The girls in the far end of the container moved further into their end, whispering amongst themselves.

"It is perfectly safe," said Harry, "I use them all the time. Oh, I almost forgot."

He leaned in and whispered, "the wizard tent is in the corner of the Summer's yard."

Chloe gave him a confused look then gently put the mint in her mouth and disappeared with a crunch. Harry stood in silence for a moment before turning back to the rest of the girls.

"The people who took you have been… taken care of," he said, projecting his voice, "you should be safe with the coast guard, but I'll be watching to make sure."

This garnered him some scared looks from the girls.

He held up his hand's. "I didn't mean for that to sound creepy," he said though that didn't change the looks he was getting, "and I'm going to stop there," he added, mostly to himself.

Shaking his head, Harry turned to and walked out of the container, but paused. He conjured a sheet of parchment and flicked his wand at it while whispering "comitatious domos."

The parchment filled itself with a list of names and addresses. This was the attendance spell used by Hogwarts professors. Harry wouldn't have bothered remembering it, attendance being pointless in his old world, but for reasons he didn't understand, it worked on the dead. The addition of 'domos' put home addresses on the list. Harry used this often when he found the bodies of dead witches or wizards during his travels. Magicals tended to not carry ID, so the attendance spell was the best way to find where they live so he could loot.

Stashing the parchment in one of his pockets, he walked out of the container. Once he turned the corner, he disappeared with a snap.

Reappearing 500 feet above, he quickly shifted into his raven form and flew a quick circle around the ship.

Dawn had broken and several smaller boats now surrounded the container ship. The largest of these had pulled alongside, men aboard it were securing ropes to the container ship, readying to board. The ice Hermione had created with her fire spell still encased the waterline of the container ship's rear section, elevating it slightly.

Harry dove lower and buzzed the boarding ship. It was gray and looked to be a military ship with a small deck gun in front of the tower. Harry guessed it was about 200 feet long.

Swooping back up, Harry landed on the corner of the roof over the container ships bridge where he could watch the boarders and balcony where the still unconscious crew members lay next to the charred remains from the crew caught by Hermione's spell.

Harry assumed it was the first time she took a human life. Hopefully she could live with herself afterwards. Harry did after his first kill, but he had had his innocence ripped away long before then when the bodies of friends and loved ones really started to pile up. Looking back now, Harry realized he never gave it much thought at the time. With the death eaters relentlessly hunting him and the rest of the world dying, time for introspection was hard to come by.

Now he brought that death to a whole new world, another Hermione became a murderer because of him, this time because of his own carelessness. Who was next? Willow? The family he should have stayed clear of? Buffy? No! He vowed to do everything in his power to protect them. Wolfram and Hart would pay for all of this.

Sounds below pulled Harry from his dark thoughts. Men from the military ship had reached the main deck. Two stood on either side of the ropes, wearing body armor complete with helmets and face masks, their assault rifles at the ready while the rest of the team climbed aboard.

Once the other three soldiers reached the deck, they quickly moved as a group towards the tower. Harry watched them enter through the door below and waited.

He didn't have long to wait, hearing a thud followed by swearing at the door to the balcony.

"Door is stuck!" yelled a voice.

"Through the window," ordered another.

One by one the team went through the window, fanning out. One soldier checked the captain's neck for a pulse.

"We got a live one," he said, moving on to the three Buffy knocked out. "Three more!"

"What the hell happened here!?" said another, looking at the charred remains.

"Not our job, Stevens, secure the ship, don't worry about what happened here," commanded the leader, "let's get the bridge under our control and then we can search this entire ship from bow to stern."

"What fun," replied another.

"That's enough of that lip, Jones!"

The soldiers moved back through the window and out of sight. Harry hopped to the middle of the roof and shifted back to his human form, quickly applying a muggle repellent and silencing charm on himself before disapparating and popping into the container next to the girl's container.

He could hear some sobbing and movement from the other container. Poking his head through the hole, he saw the girls still huddled in the end of the container and shuddered at the thought of what had been done to them to make them this docile.

Moving back, Harry sat against the wall to rest while he waited, casting a quick proximity alarm. It was a spell of his own design; it sounded an alarm that only he could hear if something moved within a couple of meters of him. It saved his life more than once.

The alarm sounded. His eyes opened with a shot and he frantically looked around, his sleepy mind not realizing where he was for a moment. The container, he thought, yes, the ship.

Standing, he listened for what tripped his alarm, hearing footsteps.

"We've got an open container here," one of the soldiers said.

The girls in the container shuffled back again at this new voice. Harry rechecked his concealment charms and watched through the hole as the sound of footsteps approached.

The footsteps stopped right outside of the container. After a few seconds, flashlight beams shined into the container, causing more panic by the girls, before the beams moved down.

"Jesus," said a male voice from the container door, under his breath, before stating, louder, "We've found a container full of girls here. Second bay, bottom of the stack. We are going to need a medical team and it might be best for them to be female. The girls are skittish."

"Acknowledged, we have dispatched a team," replied a voice from a radio.

"What do we have here?" came another voice as the flashlight beams returned and focused on the rusted-out hole in the side of the container.

Harry, though he was disillusioned, stepped away from the hole as the soldiers approached. Two of them appeared on the other side, pointing their rifles through, scanning Harry's container.

"Any idea what caused this?" one of them asked, "I've never seen rust this localized."

Harry took this as his cue to leave. He made his way to the back of the container, stepping out of the hole there. He popped a mint in his mouth and disappeared.

…

Harry appeared in the corner of the Summers' back yard. Night had fallen and no lights illuminated the empty yard. He wondered for a moment what time it was. With his recent back and forth world hopping he had completely lost track of the local time, not that he had been paying much attention to it in the last couple of years anyway.

He walked slowly to his tent, taking his time to both ready himself for any interactions with his quasi family, hopefully still asleep, and to give himself a few more moments to fully wake up. It had been a long day and he still had work to do. Wolfram and Hart needed to be dissuaded from coming after the Potters, Grangers or his Sunnydale friends.

Realizing he was stalling, standing outside the tent door, Harry steeled himself and entered. Six sets of eyes met him at the moment he stepped through the door. Lily, James and their eldest daughter stood around a counter in the kitchen unpacking MREs. Their younger daughter sat, too close to the TV, playing a game while Harry's doppelganger and Chloe sat on the coffee table, across the still unconscious Hermione. An equally unconscious Willow lightly snored from her position on the other couch. Harry couldn't see Buffy so he assumed she must be patrolling.

Chloe leapt to her feet and stormed towards Harry. "What took you so long!" she said, accusingly, "we were worried. You could have let me know about your whole twin situation," she continued, pointing at his other self, who looked at Harry with almost murderous intent.

"What happened to Hermione?" He asked, his voice as cold as his eyes, "Why won't she wake up?"

"She's healing," Harry responded, waving his wand over her, "she will wake up in a few hours or so. I expect a full recovery."

"You didn't answer my question," his other self replied, "what happened to her?"

"Ask her yourself when she wakes up," he said, "she lost consciousness when I found her but according to her," he continued, pointing to Chloe, "her wounds were mostly self-inflicted. She used her blood to channel magic."

A startled intake of breath from the other couch drew the attention of the room. Willow, awake and wide eyed, interrupted the other Harry's likely angry retort. "Th-that's dangerous, almost sui-suicidal" she said, starting at Hermione, "it's like grabbing onto a live wire."

"Hermione would never be so reckless," said the other Harry, turning his anger towards Willow.

"She didn't have a choice," replied an indignant Chloe, taking one of Hermione's hands in hers, "it was the only way we could escape. The only way she could protect us, me."

Harry, finding himself no longer the focus of the conversation, tried to slink over to his workbench. Wolfram and Hart still needed to learn the errors of their actions but he realized his ideas of how to accomplish this were stuck in his old world. There, he didn't have to worry about collateral damage. He still had a handful of the USMAD's magic destroying Neutron bombs but he couldn't use those in London or LA. Maybe he could remove the nuclear part of the device?

"Where do you think you're going?" said a loud voice, cutting through the discussion Willow and his other self were having.

Harry turned to find an irate Lily Potter glaring at him, her hands on her hips.

"You saved Hermione but you haven't told us why these people were targeting my son," she said before pointing towards the shelf containing the beloved photo album Hagrid gifted him, "we figured out the basics of why you look like my son, that you kind of are my son, but that doesn't give you the right to kidnap us and keep us in the dark!" she finished, staring at him, expecting an answer.

This was the exact situation Harry feared when he hesitated at the door. He closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself. "They were after me," he finally said, his quiet voice filling the silent room, "I made a mistake. You have to understand, compared to where I'm from, this world is a paradise. Seeing other people, hearing birdsong. I let down my defenses. I got sloppy."

Harry sat at his work bench, staring down at his hands. "I tried to find out if this world had a version of my people, being in California, Los Angeles was the closest city with a magical community." he said, shaking his head, "instead, I found Wolfram & Hart. I don't know how they traced me to you, maybe they had me on film, maybe they used magic, whatever they did it led them to the me of this world."

"Why did they take Hermione and not me?" Harry's other self asked.

Harry continued staring at his hands. "They thought you were me and they likely didn't, still don't, know my true power. Hermione was an easier target. They could use her to make you come to them." Harry paused, debating internally whether to continue, "and, thanks to me, they couldn't get you at your house. After LA, I found myself in the UK. In my search for anything familiar from my old world I discovered this world's version of my Godfather and then your family."

Jumping to his feet, Harry tuned his back to the room, staring at the wall, not wanting them to see his face and the tears that started to fall. "I know you aren't my family, not really, but the only memory I have of my parents is the murder of my mother at the hands of the man who moments before killed my father," he said, wiping his tears, "seeing a version of them still living… I wanted to protect you, so I warded your house to make those with evil intent towards the residents wouldn't be able to find it."

Harry fell silent and flinched as a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind.

"It's ok," said Lily's voice gently next to his ear, squeezing him softly, "you might not exactly be my son, but as far as I'm concerned, you are family. Thank you for trying to keep us safe."

He let her hold him for a moment before pulling away with a mumbled thanks. Turning around he saw James and his other self still looking at him distrustfully but put it out of his mind.

"I'm not done yet," he said, returning to his workbench, "Wolfram & Hart need to know to stay away from me and mine."

"What are you going to do?" asked Willow, shyly, "you aren't planning on killing anyone are you?"

Harry met her eyes for a moment and scanned the room. The looks his other self and James were had been giving him had darkened while Lily looked even more concerned. He shook his head.

"No, there has been enough killing and it would only be a temporary solution," he said, "I need to do something to show them the cost of crossing me, to make them realize their error"

From a belt pouch, Harry produced one of the neutron bomb devices and enlarged it, setting it on the table and pulling the container with the radiation warning sign on its side next to the bomb.

"It would be best if you stepped back," he said to Lily and Willow.

Seeing the large neon yellow radiation warning sign on the box as well as the side of the black, beach ball sized device, they quickly complied.

"What the hell is that?" asked James, flushing with anger as he approached, and stood protectively in front of his wife.

"It is likely perfectly safe," Harry said looking up from the chest before his eyes moved back to the device, "I just need to remove the nuclear materials and store them in this."

Placing it down on the table with a loud thunk, Harry waved his lefthand over the two padlocks keeping the container latched. Both opened as his hand passed. He removed them from the latches and opened the case, displaying its thick-walled interior designed to hold several small globes.

"You still haven't answered me," said James, more insistent, "what is that?"

Harry ignored him for a moment, waving his wand and causing a shimmering translucent barrier to surround his workbench. He took a step back from the table and with another wave of his wand, a smaller barrier appeared on the table encompassing both the device and the storage container.

"It is a nuclear device that I am now denuclearizing," he finally replied, not looking up.

The top of the device slid open with a slow sideways move of Harry's wand. An equally sedate vertical wave caused a fist size sphere of silver metal to rise from the opening. It followed Harry's wand as he maneuvered it into one of the recesses in the bottom half of the case which closed with another flick of his wand.

Harry let out the breath he had been holding and checked his watch's radiation warning light. It had not tripped. He dissipated the inner barrier while staring at the watch. No change but he waited a few more seconds before vanishing the outer barrier.

He replaced the locks on the case and placed it in the dusty trunk under his workbench. "See, perfectly safe," he said, looking up for the first time, finding that James had pulled the Potters to the far side of the great room. Chloe and Willow stood a little closer but all save the youngest Potter stared at Harry in horror.

Shaking his head, Harry held up his left hand, pointing to the lights on his watch. Two displayed solid green while the other slowly blinked yellow. "The middle light is green," he said, sheepishly, "that means the radiation level is safe."

"What about the yellow light?" asked Willow.

Harry glanced at it, "That is the threat detector. It has been like that since before I got here," he said. "At least it isn't red. That would be bad."

Turning back to his workbench, Harry closed the top of the device and shrunk it back to marble sized. He almost put it back in the same pouch where he stored the others, but dropped it into one of his coat pockets instead.

"I'll be back soon and then we can get everyone back home." With that said, Harry popped a tic tac in his mouth and disappeared.

…

Harry reappeared in the corner of the Church near Hermione's house. The sun sat high in the sky and several well-dressed people were exiting the church. Harry chided himself for not realizing that in was midmorning on a Sunday in the UK. With a wave of his wand, he disillusioned himself. Now hidden, he transformed into his raven form and took off towards central London.

Reviewing the memories he ripped from the demon's mind outside the Potter's home, he memorized the landmarks visible from the office of the demon's boss at Wolfram and Hart: A bridge with red columns and yellow arches and a temple like tiered building made of pale stone with green accents.

Flying over the Thames, Harry quickly found both the bridge and building. Circling he crossed the river and flew away from the bridge until he reached the view from the office, finding a smooth sided skyscraper. He'd have to switch to his broom to find the exact window. Swooping up to the roof of the building he landed, shifted back to his human form and pulled out his broom. Once he and the broom were disillusioned, he took off, slowly circling the building while descending. Ten floors down, he found the right angle. Slowing to a crawl, he moved nearer to the building to get a better look into the offices.

Harry found Leach's office soon after. Leach sat at his large desk with his back to windows. He had a phone to his ear and by the jerking movements he made, Harry guessed the conversation wasn't going well. In the memory, he was dressed in an expensive looking business suit, but now he wore a short-sleeved shirt and loose pants. Harry smiled at that; he must have been called into work on his Sunday off.

Hovering right next to the window, Harry cast an eavesdropping charm.

"… don't care how you do it," he said into the phone, "the girls are out of our control. Our client understands the risks inherent in the transport of human cargo and we can always procure more. What I need, what the Senior Partners need, is for your team to get onto the ship, protect the rest of the cargo, and find out who or what did this."

He sat in silence for a moment, shaking his head as he listened.

"No," he interrupted, sharply, "you don't have lethal authorization. This is the United Kingdom not Somalia. You can't shoot your way onto the boat and steal it. You are supposed to be our best team, figure out how to sneak onto the ship and get as much of our client's property as you can."

Leach slammed down the phone's receiver. "Carol!" he yelled towards the door, "have the Special Projects division heads arrived yet?"

"Yes, Mr. Leach," came a voice from the speaker on the desk, "they are awaiting you in your conference room.

Leach stood and walked towards the side door of his office. He reached for the knob but paused, taking a breath and running his hands through his short hair before opening the door and walking through.

Outside, Harry followed, reapplying his eavesdropping charm to the next room. Through the window, Leach now stood at the head of a large mahogany conference table. Several people dressed in casual clothes sat around it in plush leather chairs. Open file folders and books littered the surface of the table. The opposite wall of the conference room was glass, beyond which, harry could see several more people working at a frantic pace. It seemed all hands were on deck at Wolfram & Hart this Sunday.

"Thank you for coming in on a Sunday," Leach said to the division heads, "as you have seen from our reports and likely the news, if you were listening this morning, there was an incident on one of the ships we use to transport goods for our more lucrative clients."

"We were also using this ship to hold the bait we obtained for the LA office's Unknown issue," leach continued, looking directly at the lone woman at the table, a rail thin brunette wearing an expensive looking sundress. "I believe that was your idea, Richards. Do we know the status of the Granger girl?"

The women looked down to the file folder in her hands, cheeks tinged red. "Our sources indicate that she is not among the girls the Border Force have taken from the ship," she said, "we sent a surveillance team to her residence and discovered several members of the Watchers Council guarding it."

"The girl's parents are Watchers?" Leach asked, aghast, turning to stare at another person at the table, "why am I just learning this now and why did we not know this?"

"As you know s-sir," replied the man, stammering under Leach's glare, "our records of the Watcher's Council's membership is incomplete. You authorized the action before we could complete a full recon operation on the Grangers."

"Well," said Leach as he sat down, looking somewhat unsure, "time was of the essence, but," he returned to glare at the other man, speaking more forcefully, "I still expect a full work up and timely notice of any new information discovered. You are on thin ice, Simpson."

Leach let the implied threat sit in the room for a moment before continuing. "I have sent a retrieval team to investigate the ship. They will attempt to retrieve the rest out our client's property as well as determine who or what caused this. Once we have more information, we will reconvene to determine our next course of action. We will also need to obtain new girls to replace those now in Her majesties' custody. They are going to be watched too closely for the moment."

"Get back to work," said Leach as he stood and walked back towards the door to his office.

Harry drifted back to that window, turning on the magic sight feature of his glasses. Nothing in the room lit up, nor did any runes appear on the window. While the Wolfram & Hart building in LA lit like a candle under magic sight, this looked like any other office building. Harry smiled at that; it made his next move much easier.

With a flick of his wand, the window shimmered and Harry drifted his broom into Leach's office, shooting him in the back with a stunner as he passed over the desk. Leach slumped back in his chair, unconscious.

Silently dropping from his broom, Harry shrunk and stowed it, approaching Leach. He grabbed the man's arm and they disappeared with a slight pop.

…

Archie Leach awoke suddenly and immediately began screaming at the top of his lungs. Had he the ability, his arms and legs would have flailed about but they refused to move leading him to scream even louder. It was an understandable reaction to finding oneself suspended over the ledge of a skyscraper's roof.

After a few moments of screaming, the sound stopped though Leach continued to silently scream, doubling his efforts when something began to rotate him, stopping once he faced the empty roof.

The air shimmered and a young man sitting in a plushy leather armchair slowly materialized. Leach recognized him immediately as Harry Potter: the man from the surveillance footage outside the LA office. Potter was even dressed in the same long leather coat as he sat, leaning back with his legs crossed, watching Leach with a look of intentional indifference. Leach saw through it. One doesn't become a department head at Wolfram & Hart without being able to read people's faces. Beneath his calm and dismissive visage bubbled rage and righteous anger.

Leach stopped his silent scream and tried to suppress his mortal terror, mimicking Potter's indifference. Controlling the forthcoming conversation could be the only way he survives it.

Potter stood with deliberate slowness, casually waving his hand at the chair causing it to morph into a cloud of smoke that the strong wind dissipated into nothingness. He took a step forward, the corner of his mouth ticked up, threatening a scowl, before Potter could suppress it, returning to his indifference.

"You and I are overdue for a conversation," Potter finally said, staring at Leach with his head at a slight tilt.

"Most people," replied Leach, making every effort possible to speak calmly, "don't start conversations by hanging the other party off a building."

Potter leapt at him, snarling inches from his face, "Most people don't kidnap teenage girls or send demons to watch innocent families!"

Stepping back with a shake of his head, Potter schooled his features and returned to glaring at leach though more of his anger bled through.

Leach cursed his acid tongue. It was a good line, but survival was more important that wit in this situation. Don't poke the bear, he mentally repeated to himself waiting for Potter to continue.

"Let's start again," Potter began, "the Potters and Grangers are under my protection. Same with the demon girl, Chloe, from the boat and hell, let's add all the girls and children we freed from that boat. If any of them are harmed in any way that I can trace back to Wolfram & Hart there will be… consequences."

"And what about you?" responded Leach, barely suppressing a smile. Potter made his first mistake, all but admitting his responsibility for the fiasco on the ship last night.

"Me?" asked Potter with a disturbing smile, "oh, I'm fair game."

"Of course," he continued, "you should note that I'm not Harry Potter, at least the Harry Potter who lives in Godric's Hollow."

Leach hid another smile. Two Harry Potters? Was this one a clone? From a different world? Potter again showed his hand and gave Leach another avenue for attack.

"You should also note that I've got quite the insurance policy. The world I come from is dead. An evil wizard unleashed a plague to 'purge the unclean'" he said, making air quotes, "but it worked a bit too well and killed off all the animals. Everyone except him, his followers and me."

Looking Leach directly in the eyes, he finished, "and I brought it here. Should Wolfram and Hart take me out, it takes out this world."

He was bluffing. Leach was sure of it even if he couldn't detect a single lie in Potter's statement. Potter cared too much for his family to put them in harm's way. His being here, demanding their protection told Leach that much even if the idea of a planet killing plague terrified him.

"Are you done?" Leach asked, feigning nonplussed, "can you put me back in my office?"

Potter's feral smile in response threatened Leach's composure.

"No, no, no, no, no," Potter said through his disturbing smile, drawing out the last no, "You haven't told me everything Wolfram & Hart knows about me."

"And I won't," Leach replied almost indignantly, "you might be able to kill me but the Senior Partners can do much worse. I will never betray the Firm's secrets."

Shaking his head, Potter raised his left hand while his right disappeared into a pouch on his belt much deeper than the pouch appeared. Leach's body drifted towards his outstretched hand, stopping right in front of Potter as the boy dropped his hand.

Leach relaxed slightly now that he wasn't leaning over the ledge. This was short-lived as Potter pulled a small vial from his too small pouch and turned his attention back to Leach.

"I wasn't planning on giving you a choice, Mr. Leach."

A flick of the stick caused Leach's mouth to open and after Potter dribble something on his tongue. Afterwards, he answered all of Potter's questions. The surveillance video, the odd clairvoyance results, the facial recognition, discovering the wards at the Potter's house. Everything.

After Potter asked his last question, he twisted his hand causing Leach to rotate and face the edge again.

"One last question," Potter started before Leach could beg for his life, "any idea what that building across the river is?"

Leach looked where the boy was pointing, answering, "That's MI6 headquarters."

Potter's feral smile returned and he started to laugh, almost cackle. With a wave of his hand, he disappeared. Something grabbed Leach's shoulder and then he felt like he was being squeezed through a tiny tube. Just as suddenly as it came, the feeling left and Leach opened his eyes, finding himself staring at his building across the river. Potter can teleport others? Yet another secret he needlessly spilled.

Dread filled Leach's stomach as he realized where he stood: MI6 headquarters. Wolfram & Hart could clear up any 'misunderstanding' about his being there, but that likely came with a cost and a large one at that.

…

A portkey, apparition and animagus transformation later, Harry flew in his raven form over

one of the moderately fancy neighborhoods in LA, looking for Holland Manners' house. Leach had shared much under veritaserum including that Manners was the one in charge of the "Harry Potter Situation."

Holding the image of Manner's house he had ripped from Leach's mind, Harry used his superior corvid sight to pinpoint the location of the house. Leach had been to the home for a Wolfram & Hart Thanksgiving party and the neighborhood looked quite different a couple of hours after sunrise on a Sunday in late June.

Spotting a likely target, Harry dove to land in one of the trees in Manners' spacious back garden. The house reminded him of Malfoy Manor, but he had to admit that with fatigue and anger clouding his judgement, the similarities consisted only of their relative size. Manners' home looked more like an Italian Villa than an Elizabethan Country Home.

Harry chuckled to himself at his architectural knowledge. Having spent the last year and a half hopping and flying around the empty globe of his Earth, looting anything he could use and staying a few steps ahead of the Death eaters hunting him, he spent a bit of time in the homes of the wealthy. Reading up on architecture seemed like a good way to learn the best spots to hide secret rooms and to just pass the time.

Movement in one of the windows caught Harry's eye and he quickly hopped to a nearer branch to get a better look.

Peering through the window, Harry caught a glimpse of Manners, dressed in a polo shirt. He sat at a small table built into the nook of the kitchen window, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.

In the kitchen behind manners, a brunette woman stood in front of the stove, cooking something. She wore a silky looking cream-colored robe with a dark apron strap around her waist.

Harry hopped deeper into the tree, hiding himself from the window and cawed loudly three times. Manners lower the paper and peered out the window searching for the source. Harry hoped he was not the only one who responded to his call.

By the time Harry learned the animagus transformation, the ravens had died of Voldemort's flu. All the books he read on the transformation suggested watching the animals to learn their habits and movements. This became even more important with the more intelligent animals and ravens were among the smartest of birds. Without live birds, Harry read what he could before lucking upon a few documentaries on ravens in the Seattle public library.

He learned the call in one of those movies. Young ravens traveled in flocks before pairing off with mates that they keep for life. The young ravens used that call to alert their flock of a food source so the flock could gang up on other animals and take the food for themselves.

Once they discovered the lack of a big food source, they would move on but Harry only needed them to show up. He himself didn't plan to stick around long.

Soon enough another raven started circling the area followed by two more. Harry cawed again and the ravens joined him in his tree. By now, Manners full attention was on the tree. A few more ravens started to circle while the two in the tree cawed and nipped at each other. One approached Harry but a quick jerk of his head made the other raven flinch away, going back to hassling his flock mate.

When the newcomers landed in the tree, Harry took off and circled Manners' house. He landed in the front yard and shifted into his human form, silently casting his stealth spells.

Hidden from sight, sound and smell, Harry activated the mage sight on his glasses to check for any wards. He chided himself for not doing this before he even approached the property. Sure, he had yet to find any real wards in this world but Hermione would not have been kidnapped, this world's version of his family wouldn't have been threatened, without his sloppiness during his first visited LA. He couldn't afford to be sloppy again.

Thankfully, Manners' home had only some minor wards, nothing that worried Harry. He cast his phasing spell on the front door and walked through. His eyes didn't wander as he passed through the ostentatious foyer, following the sounds of Manners' wife's cooking to the kitchen.

"I just don't understand it," Manners said, still looking out the window at the gathering ravens. By now a modest flock had gathered in the tree, squabbling and making quite the racket. "This feels like a scene from the birds."

"I've always loved Hitchcock," his wife answered, her voice more playful that concerned, "but North by Northwest is my favorite."

"I'm not talking about the movie; I'm taking about the ravens outside."

"Oh, there is probably just a dead animal somewhere in the hills behind the house," she replied, "nothing to worry about."

Harry approached the woman, silently petrifying her with a touch from his left hand once she moved her hand away from the stove. He turned off the burner and approached Manners, willing the red bolt of a stunner out of his wand.

It splashed over Manners and he tumbled to the floor. Harry tried not to smile too broadly at the thunk that sounded when Manners' head hit the hard wood.

…

Holland Manners' eyes shot open as a labored breath wheezed out of his lungs. Squinting his eyes at the sudden brightness, he blinked several times before discovering his location. He found himself on top of a building in downtown Los Angeles. He could see his office a few blocks away.

He tried to give in to his immediate instinct and back away from the edge of the building but found he couldn't move his legs, no matter how hard he shook or pulled at them.

"You won't be moving those for a few hours yet," said a voice behind him, a male voice with a British accent.

Manners tried to twist around to see who spoke, but found it difficult with his immobile legs. By the time he turned he saw no one.

"Hah!" laughed the voice, "I forgot to dispel my camouflage."

The air shimmered and a young man appeared. With his messy brown hair, glasses and duster, Manners recognized him immediately: Potter. Dread blossomed in his gut. His last memory before waking here was watching the ravens outside his kitchen window.

"Your wife is unharmed," said Potter, his voice flat, "I don't kill people, unless they try to kill me first or go after people I care about."

By the end, Potter's voice had filled with rage. Manners cursed Leach in his mind, wondering how the conniving bastard blundered his Granger plan. Had the girl died? Why had nobody notified him? If he survived, Manners had more than a few scalps to take, literally, for putting him and his wife in danger like this.

"It is your lucky day, Manners," said Potter, his voice calm again, "I'm not going to kill you, as long as you do everything I say."

Manners stayed silent but nodded his head once. Potter had powers nobody at Wolfram & Hart, at least in this dimension, understood. Threatening him wouldn't help, threatening his loved ones already failed. Manners decided that bribery wouldn't work either. Compliance offered the best chances of survival.

"I'm happy you agree," Potter said with a predatory smile. He pulled a phone out of his jacket pocket. Manners recognized it as his phone. "I need you to call your office and have them evacuate."

"I don't understand," Manners replied, "I'm not going to let you harm my people." A lie. None of them were irreplaceable and those he valued most were covered by Wolfram & Hart's perpetual contract. Their death would not end their service to the firm.

"Oh, I don't want to kill them, I want to save them," Potter replied, his grin turning positively feral, "from the invisible bomb I planted."

Manners laughed at this, a genuine mirthful chuckle. He oversaw the team responsible for the office wards. He approved each addition to the wards and He signed off on all the requisition forms for the necessary sacrifices. He knew exactly how much spilt blood powered them. A bomb couldn't so much as scratch one of the windows.

"I'm surprised, Mr. Manners, that you still underestimate my abilities," Potter said, "it is well within my power to kill every single living thing on the surface of this planet."

The pit in Manner's gut grew. He prided himself in his ability to detect lies, a useful skill when dealing with the type of clientele his firm attracted. Potter spoke the truth. He didn't think Potter wanted to destroy the world, but as he planned to attack Wolfram & Hart, Manners didn't think of him as particularly rational and irrational people make poor decisions.

"I'll make the call," Manners said. He had no other option. Evacuating the building equated to a minor inconvenience to the firm. The death of everything on the planet? Well, the senior partners had plans for this planet.

"I knew you would see it my way," Potter said, handing Manners his cell phone, "your wife will be the first to die if you cross me."

Manners bristled at the extra threat, desiring nothing more than to make Potter suffer. Knowing that the Senior Partners would likely do just that kept him from verbally lashing out at the boy but he did stare at him defiantly while entering the numbers.

"Good morning director Manners," said the calm voice of the weekend receptionist thought the phone, "what can I help you with today?"

"Theta protocol," he replied, his voice flat.

"Uh, I'm a," began the receptionist, no longer calm, "can I uh, can I get your authorization, sir?"

"Alabaster 3-4-8-2-9," he replied, not worried about using his code in front of Potter, it would change after this incident.

"Authorization accepted, the evacuation is starting," the receptionist said, "is this a drill, sir?"

Manners said nothing and tossed the phone over the side of the building. A useless act of defiance, but it gave him a mote of pleasure. At least until the phone stopped moving in midair and slowly glided to Potter's waiting hand.

Potter held the phone to his ear. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Manners is currently unavailable," he said into the phone, "I'd get out of the building soon if I were you, the bomb will go off in about 5 minutes."

Potter studied the buttons on the phone, Manners assumed he had never used a cell phone, not really surprising, Potter looked about 20. Finally, Potter pressed the end button and dropped the phone in his pocket.

In the distance, emergency lights flashed through the windows of Wolfram & Hart. Manners couldn't make out individuals, but could see a crowd rushing outside of the building. Had this happened on a week day, the crowd would be much larger and the evacuation more difficult. At least Potter picked the least busy day for his asinine stunt.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Potter said, as if reading his mind, "but I need to send a message, to show you people what happens when someone goes after me or mine."

"The senior partners of the firm will not be happy," Manners replied, his voice cold, "attacking the firm is suicide."

Potter's feral smile returned. "That's why I have you," he said, his eyes watching the evacuation, "you are my witness to your 'senior partners,' you will see what I can do and take my warning to them."

"And that warning?" Asked Manners, trying to keep a brave face.

Potter's actions and abilities scared him but he couldn't see the senior partners giving up on dealing with Potter. Hell, with what Potter has shown this morning, the senior partners would want him as a client, but he didn't think Potter would accept.

"If the Potters or the Grangers are harmed in anyway, or if I should die at the hands of Wolfram & Hart, this world will die."

"You would kill all those innocents?" Manners asked, "all your other friends and family for just one person?"

Potter frowned and Manners knew he had him. Potter cared too much; he wouldn't go through with such a threat.

"I've already cast the dead man's switch," Potter said, though Manners knew it was a lie, "if I die, the spell will release the virus and your world will be doomed. I've seen it before."

Manners believed his last line, Potter had seen it before, but his use of 'your' intrigued Manners more. He recalled the report of the seers who tried to scry Potter's location, at least the ones that survived. One saw a masked figure walking through the streets of a deserted and destroyed London. This wasn't the future, but the past, the London on Potter's world. Manners filed that information away. It could be key to countering the man.

"You doubt me," Potter said, his eyes still watching the distant evacuation, "and I'll admit I don't want to destroy your world. I've met a few people I like here. Maybe a threat closer to home would convince you."

"Leave my wife alone," Manners growled, hating himself for losing his cool.

Rule one of negotiation: never let the other side see the importance you place in something. Showing emotion about his wife's life gave Potter leverage and as Manners currently found himself at Potter's mercy, he needed all the leverage he could have.

"I don't hurt innocents, Manners," Potter spat, "though I'd hardly call her innocent, at least judging by some of her memories. Her soul might be blacker than yours."

"I was talking about my bomb and what it is going to do to your office," Potter continued, "I have to admit, that I'm a bit excited to see what happens. I've never seen one of these go off. I'm not even sure what it will look like."

"Wolfram & Hart will never bow to your terrorist threats," Manner said, "and the building is heavily fortified."

"You still underestimate me after all I've done" Potter replied, "here, let's give you a closer look."

With a wave of Potter's hand, a patch of air in front of them seemed to solidify. He continued to move his hand in some ornate pattern and the solid air shifted its shape and through it Manners could see the scene in front of Wolfram & Hart as if he were there.

A group of a couple of dozen people stood across the street from the building. Manners recognized a few associates in his department. Under normal circumstances he would have been happy to see them working on a Sunday, proving their worth.

"Seems like everyone is out of the building," Potter said, "time to get this party started."

His hand and lower arm disappeared into one of the pockets of his coat. When he pulled it out, he held a small box. Mather's eyes bulged when he noticed the bright radiation warning sign on the box. Was the bomb nuclear? Had he misjudged Potter that much? Would they be safe at this distance?

Potter noticed Manners' change in demeanor. "Don't worry," He said, "I removed the nuclear material."

"Knowing you have a nuclear weapon does little to make me not worry," Manners replied, his mind turning to the possibility of obtaining Potter's nuke. In just a moment, he had a short list of potential buyers.

"Just think of it as further incentive to leave me and mine alone," Potter said, holding the small box out, "would you like to do the honors?"

Manners ignored him, making no movement towards what he assumed was the detonator.

"Suit yourself," Potter said, "time to see if this thing works.

With his eyes on the close-up view of the building, Potter turned a key on the device and then pressed the button. Manners snapped his eyes shut tightly, anticipating a flash and boom but none came.

"Looks like your bomb is a dud," Manners said, smiling in relief.

Potter did not reply while he continued to watch the building. When he began to smile. Manners turned back to see why.

A metal sphere the size of a basketball had appeared out of nothing on top of the Wolfram & Hart sign outside the building. As he continued to watch, the sphere began shaking. Cracks appeared and thin tendrils of smoke snaked out of them.

The smoke did not dissipate as it left the sphere, continuing to move almost like tentacles. More smoke escaped from the cracks and the smaller tentacles of smoke moved together, forming three larger tentacles.

Manners glanced over at Potter to see his reaction. Potter watched the scene with rapt attention but not surprised by the action. Potter laughed and Manners turned to see why. The three tentacles of smoke began to change colors with one red, another blue and the third white.

"You Americans sure love that color scheme," Potter remarked, chuckling, "I'm betting one of them turns into an eagle and starts singing the Star-Spangled Banner before too long."

The tentacles of smoke continued to grow, pulsating as waves of more smoke billowed from the sphere. The white tentacle rose high above the other two, reaching at least the third story of the building. Suddenly it spun and collapsed in a cloud that crept away from the sphere, covering the ground like a fog as it spread out.

The blue tentacle grew next. As it reached the height where the white one collapsed it began to spin but did not fall. Instead, its tip split into four thin tentacles that moved towards the building. As they reached the building, the tentacles split further, their smoke moving across the facade in intricate patterns, patterns Manners recognized to his growing horror: the wards.

"I told you not to understate me," Potter said.

Manners tried to school his reaction but the implications frightened him beyond anything Potter had done yet. If his bomb could take down the wards it could access the building, access the white room. He had underestimated Potter and that could lead to disaster.

The tentacles continued move along the lines of the wards, hopping across gaps to fill them out fully. The pulse of the tentacles increased with the blue tint fading to black with each cycle before returning brighter and whiter. The speed increased, almost becoming a strobe before a blinding flash erupted from the sphere and a bulb of pure white energy shot up the blue tentacles and into the wards.

The entire wards system flashed bright blue and as the after image faded from Manners' eyes the smoke over the wards seemed to solidify and crumble into dust that fell to the fog covered ground.

The only remaining tentacle, the red one, began to grow, slowly swirling as it pushed into the sky. It reached the size that the other tentacles changed but it kept growing, reaching above the seventh and top floor of the building. Manners noticed Potter stepping back to his side and wondered if they were in danger here, several blocks away.

The column of red smoke stopped growing but it continued to spin. It pulsed like the blue one growing wider as each pulse traveled to the top. The spinning accelerated and the smoke morphed into shapes, indistinguishable in the swarm.

A piercing bird call rang out, echoing on the skyscrapers around them as one of the small shapes in the swarm shot out, passing through a window on the 5th floor as if it wasn't there. Potter started cackling beside him.

"Eagles!" He bellowed, continuing to cackle, "I knew it! Who makes weapons this flashy but the Americans?"

More of the smoke eagles screeched and dove away from the swarm, entering the building. The cacophony with the echoing cries increased and Manners covered his ears. With a deafening cry the entire swarm dispersed. Most flew towards the building but some dove towards the group of employees and pedestrians that gathered to watch the strange spectacle.

Potter watched intently, but showed no emotions. Manners wondered why Potter would attack innocents. The smoke eagles reached the first people as they turned and ran, passing through their back and out their chests. The people continued unharmed and the eagles circled to find new targets.

"It's not going to kill anyone," said Potter, as he continued to watch with his feral smile.

One of the eagles dove into the receptionist who had tripped on her high heels as she tried to run from the diving birds. Instead of passing through she began to convulse coughing red smoke. Her body changed, her human form shifting into that of a demon with blotch green skin and blood red hair. Her convulsions ended and a cloud of red smoke exploded out of her reforming into the eagle that soared above as she remained lifeless and unmoving below.

"Well, it won't kill humans," said Potter, his voice wavering, smile gone, "I'm guessing that demon's species requires magic to live. I didn't expect that."

Seeing the receptionist shed her human skin and die, the rest of the crowd panicked and ran from the building and flock of smoke eagles. The eagle continued to dive through them as they fled, felling several of the firm's security guards, ripping their human forms away and revealing their true demonic nature.

The earth began to tremble and the smoke eagles turned away from the crowd and joined the others inside the building. Groups of eagles burst out of the building's side, turning and diving back inside. The sides of the building started to buckle and move inward like a slow-motion implosion.

More and more eagles began to dive in any out of the top floor as the implosion sped up. With a mighty crack, the ground floor pulled up from the sidewalk and the wall of windows in front of the lobby shattered. The whole building continued to rise, and shrink into a rough ball, debris and glass raining down into the gaping hole that housed the underground garage.

"What kind of magic did you have in that building," Potter asked, staring at the ever shrinking remains of the building.

"Wolfram & Hart's LA office was founded on this spot in 1791 on deconsecrated ground," Manners replied, giving the rote introduction, "it also houses an inter dimensional portal to the Senior Partners."

"Housed," Potter said, his feral smile returning, "I assumed you realized by now but the bomb destroys magic. With any luck a few of those eagles will have made it through the portal before they destroy it."

The ball of twisted metal and concrete that was once the building stopped shrinking. As the eagles continued to dive into the ball, a cloud of their red tinted smoke grew and surrounded the remains of the building, still hanging in the air.

With a flash the smoke coalesced into a large full colored eagle that flew directly up into the sky, leaving a fading red, white and blue trail as it disappeared into the sky. Potter — cackling like a madman — gave it a salute before his feral smile turned to Manners.

"I have more of those if your firm needs another reminder to leave me and mine alone," Potter said, "I sincerely hope this is the last time we ever speak."

With that said, Potter stepped to the edge of the building. Still facing Manners, he fell backwards and disappeared from Manners' vision. He remained frozen on top of the building for hours before he could move. All the while, he plotted the best way to explain this to the Senior Partners, preferably one that left him alive at the end of the meeting.

…

Harry flew to Sunnydale. Tired as he was after the last hours, he still needed to process everything and flying always helped clear his head. Doing so as a raven doubled the effect. Intelligent as they were, they were still creatures of instinct. Those drives dulled his human thoughts but not enough.

The Potters and Hermione waiting in his tent in Sunnydale were not his family, not really. Knowing that fact rationally didn't stop his emotions from seeing them that way. He spent far too long alone to not seek out the familiar, even in this new world. That, he understood rationally as well.

His reaction might have been understandable but it put them all in a great deal of danger. He'd done that even if it hadn't been his hand that threatened them. If he'd remained on his own dead world, this Hermione wouldn't have been kidnapped, had to kill. She and this world's Harry would be back in the UK right now oblivious to the actions of demonic law firms.

Now, it was too late to return to the status quo. Harry had put a target on all of their backs including Buffy and her friends. Destroying the LA branch might keep Wolfram & Hart from taking such overt actions again, but the lessons of his old world taught Harry to be realistic. The Potters and Hermione were only safe as long as he remained a threat to Wolfram & Hart. Even if he could have left this world and returned to his own tomb, in doing so, he'd condemn everyone he knew in this world to death and destruction.

Soaring through the endless blue sky, his avian brain cut through the lies all human minds fed to themselves from time to time. Guilt ate at him for putting another version of his family through such pain, but he found comfort in knowing they existed. He wanted to get to know them better; same with Buffy and her friends. Even without the damage he'd done and the need he had to remain to protect them from the fallout, Harry didn't want to leave.

With that realization, he beat his wings faster, gaining altitude before tucking them in to dive. He sped toward the ground faster and faster. Wings extended, his decent stopped and he shot along the highway just a few feet above the tallest trucks. His firebolt outpaced his raven form nearly tenfold, but it rarely felt as fast as flying with his own wings.

His haste slowed when the Summer's residence and the garish wizard tent in the back garden came into view. He hesitated and circled high above twice and then for a third time before he forced himself down. Even then, he remained in his raven form for a few moments, then shifted.

Nobody noticed Harry step through the Tent's doors immediately. James and his two daughters sat on the couch focused on a video game. Buffy and Lily were in the kitchen chatting. Willow and Hermione had taken over the far end of his workspace, well away from the box covered in radiation warnings. They were huddled close in front of a large book while the other Harry and Chloe stood behind them, both decidedly confused.

"These spells make absolutely no sense!" Hermione threw her hands in the air then pointed to the page. "What is the point of turning a mouse into a snuffbox?"

"I don't even know what a snuffbox is," Willow muttered, frowning at the book.

"From my understanding, the spell itself isn't important," Harry said from the doorway, "I certainly haven't had the need to turn a mouse into a snuffbox. I don't know what that is either, but the spell teaches valuable basics on organic to non-organic transfiguration."

Everyone had turned when he spoke. Buffy and Lily hurried from the kitchen. James and his daughters remained on the couch but the man watched him with eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Hermione matched his suspicious expression.

"It should be safe for you to return home," Harry said before Willow could get a question out, "but I'd like to keep my protections in place and give you emergency portkeys just in case my threats were not enough."

"You're the reason we were in danger in the first place," James said.

The man wasn't Harry's father, but the angry tone hit harder because he shared his face. Without a single memory of his own father, he never got a chance to be scolded. Even James' disappointment gave him a sting of longing.

"James Potter, he was only trying to protect us," Lily said, finger waiving at her husband, "Put yourself in his shoes. What would you do if you lost everyone you ever loved then found yourself on another world where they all lived?"

Even having lived it, Harry found it difficult to consider. James frowned with his lips pressed together before sighing and relaxing his shoulders.

"I'd want to protect them, too," the man admitted.

"I can't unscramble the egg," Harry said, "I mean, I can with a spell, but I mean metaphorically. By trying to protect you, I put you at risk. All I can do now is try my best to ensure you remain safe. You've seen how fast I can travel across the world. If you ever need me, I will be there for you."

"As far as I'm concerned, you are family," Lily said before pulling Harry into a hug, "you're welcome in our home anytime."

Both Buffy and James frowned at that but Harry only saw it through eyes crowded with tears. He held them in through the hug and blinked them away when Lily pulled back.

"You're not my Harry," Hermione said, earning an unsubtle smile from the other Harry shadowing her, "but I want to know more about your magic and Chloe said you had a list of all the women in that shipping container and you'd help distribute the gold we found."

"I hesitate to say I'll answer every question. You're too much like my Hermione and I'd be answering for an eternity, but I'll gladly field a few and help with getting those girls their gold," Harry replied.

Within the hour, the Potters, Hermione and Chloe — her demon features concealed by a new glamor — disappeared as the portkeys took them back to London. Harry dropped to the picnic table bench in the Summer's back garden and relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever.

Buffy dropped to sit beside him. Willow darted back into the tent only to come out a moment later with the transfiguration textbook she and Hermione had been looking at. She and Buffy shared a look before her eyes went wide.

"I'll ask you about this later," Willow said before ducking back into the tent.

"I don't know if you will ever get her out of your library," Buffy said after a long moment of silence.

"Maybe I should ask Giles for tips," Harry replied.

"Technically, we blew up his library, but I don't think you want to do that."

"Seems a bit drastic."

They fell into a long silence again. More than once it appeared Buffy wanted to speak but stopped herself. Harry didn't mind the silence but he knew he'd gotten more than used to it being alone for years.

"What… what are you going to do now?" Buffy finally asked. "Talking with your mother, well, not really your mother. It is tough to wrap my head around that. But what I was saying is I know she'd welcome you into their home. I mean, she sees you as her son in a way, but I know we could use your help here and I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"You were starting to sound like Willow, there." Harry chuckled. "I told Lily I'd do everything I could to keep them safe and I will, but I can hardly look them in the eye without thinking about my world where they and everyone else I cared about are dead and gone. I came here to escape the tomb my world had become. When I stepped through the portal, all I cared about was not being there. Now, I've already started to connect to this place, to you, to Willow and the others. I'm not planning on leaving, though I don't think your mom would be all that happy with my tent in your back garden."

"She won't even know it is there unless you tell her, right?" Buffy laughed. "Boy, teen wizards must have gotten up to all sorts of no good. You can turn invisible, hide two-bedroom tents from everyone in the world and that pervy spell you told me about that lets you turn into anyone else."

"It's a potion, actually." Harry grinned, chuckling at a memory. "I've taken it a few times. The first time, Hermione made a batch so we could sneak into a different house's common room. She accidentally used a cat hair for hers. She became a cat person for an hour."

They laughed at the story. Tired as he was, Harry shared another and another. He had escaped the dead world that had once been his home but maybe he found a new one.

…

Two Weeks Later

Holland Manners winced but didn't dare look away. Beside him, Leach looked even paler than his usually sallow self but he kept his eyes on the alter, too. The coppery tang of freshly spilt blood stung his nose and there were still three sacrifices remaining.

A hulking Fyarl demon carried the next victim to the alter deep underneath the London Branch of Wolfram & Hart. The man struggled, kicking fruitlessly at the demon's legs. It snarled and twisted its head slamming a large horn into the man's head. He fell limp in the demon's grip.

The Black robed Dark Priest recited the ritual words in a harsh demon tongue Manners hadn't been familiar with. The man slapped the victim to wake him then raised the dagger and with one swift move opened the victim's neck. Life blood sprayed across the intricate runes and symbols carved into the sand in front of the alter. As the victim emptied, the blood dribbled over the alter, mixing with the last nine. The demon tossed the empty victim onto the pile and stomped out of the chamber to get the next one.

"This is a mistake," Manners whispered to Leach, "you saw what he did to the Los Angeles Offices."

"I spent a very awkward afternoon in MI-6 custody thanks to him. I know what the man is capable of, thank you very much," Leach replied, "this was ordered by the Senior Partners. I expressed as much hesitation as I could, but you understand how they are when they make a decision."

Manners understood all too well. Losing the white room in the LA office alone left him answering to Leach and the single remaining connection to the Senior Partners on this plane. He half expected it would cost him his life, too. He wanted Potter dead as much as anyone, but he relived the destruction of the LA office every night as he dreamed. He'd seen Potter's power and his willingness to use it.

"He'll give you more than an 'awkward afternoon if he realizes we are behind this," Manners said.

The demon returned with the next victim. She resisted as much as the last — according to the text, the ritual required the victim's fear as well as blood — but in the end, her blood sprayed over the runes and dribbled down the alter. She landed on the pile beside it and the demon left for the final sacrificial victim.

"He won't even suspect us. That is the beauty of this particular ritual," Leach said, "We know Potter is not from this plane. He traveled here somehow. Once this ritual summons his nemesis, he will assume his enemy used the same method he did."

"With what Potter can do, his nemesis must have similar abilities," Manners replied, "the sugar plantations in Hawaii brought mongooses to the islands to combat their rat problems. The mongooses ate the rats, but then they started eating birds and other small animals, sending several to the brink of extinction. Bringing another being like Potter here could be worse."

"Come on, Manners. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that." Leach waved his concerns away as the demon brought in the last victim. "We have to be seen as doing something, after all."

The dark priest sliced the final victim's neck. As the blood sprayed over the runes, they glowed, pulsing as if with a heartbeat. The glow brightened yet remained as dark as dried blood. Manners blinked away after images on his eyes before a flash extinguished all light save the candles placed around the room.

He held his breath when nothing happened. Seconds ticked by. The dark priest remained at the blood-soaked alter with his ritual dagger held high. Thunder cracked. A bold of lightning struck the center of the ritual circle. It left a black mark on the ceiling where it came from. Another bolt crackled, turning the sand in the center into glass.

With the next strike, a figure stood in the center of the circle. They wore a hooded black robe that had seen better days, maybe better decades. It was torn in several places, some patched, others hanging open like wounds. Dirt and blotchy stains covered it and the hem at the man's ankles were ripped and torn all the way around him.

The figure spun, pointing a stick around the room. He sucked in a deep breath seeing the pile of dead victims. With his face still hidden in the cloak, he kept moving, examining the entire room. The candlelight glittered off the gauntlet covering his left hand.

"Why aren't you all dead?" the man asked in a raspy British accented voice. "Why have you summoned me?"

The man lifted his stick and pointed it at the dark priest. He spun, focusing on everyone around the circle. Manners held his breath when it aimed his way but the man moved to Leach next. Please, kill him, Manners thought but Leach stood tall and said two words.

"Harry Potter."

"Potter," the man hissed.

His shoulders shook with a cackling laugh and he threw back his head. The cowl fell away, exposing his face. Matted blonde hair fell around his head, except above his left eye. Blackened and cracked flesh sliced from the top of his head down to his chin on that side of his face. His head whipped back down. A glowing red eye stared at Manners before the man disappeared with a deafening crack.

"Looks like our mongoose for free," Manners said.