This is actually a crossover I've been mulling over for some time, ever since reading the first two novels in the series, as well as a number of fanfics and, on recommendation from Nemesis13, a certain Abridged Series by Something Witty Entertainment. Of course, actually getting the story to work was another matter. I originally considered a WBWL fic set during the TWT, and set after the first story arc of the series in question, but I wanted to do a TWT fic for another crossover, specifically Akame ga Kill! (which is still being developed, so watch this space), and I didn't want to do too many TWT fics. I eventually plumped for something I didn't want to do, but I probably will do anyway. Basically, Harry ends up in the future, nearly 30 years into the future.

If the above clues weren't enough, then let me put you out of your misery. I'm talking about a crossover with Sword Art Online.

While this story might not get off the ground, there's still the possibility of me doing the same crossover, and with the same pairing, if I can make it work. What's the pairing? Well, read the chapter and see.

STRANGER IN STRANGE LANDS

PROLOGUE:

MAROONED IN TIME

Have you ever felt your world crumble all around you? On all sides, above you, and beneath your feet? Of course, this is metaphorical, but it doesn't make it any more devastating. Psyches have been destroyed in this manner quite often, after all.

Harry Potter thought he knew what such a thing felt like. In truth, he was naïve. The trials and travails he had gone through in his years at Hogwarts paled by comparison. Even that brouhaha in Second Year, when half of the school thought he was the next Dark Lord, or the Fourth Year, when everyone thought he was a cheater, was nothing compared to this. Who knew a stray spell hitting the Portkey would lead to this?

"If it's any consolation, Mr Potter…" began the older dark-skinned man who had introduced himself as Kingsley Shacklebolt, the current Minister of Magic, but Harry interrupted him.

"It's not. Nothing you could say is going to be any consolation. You've already told me what happened, though not after the thugs you seem to be hiring now beat the crap out of me, first for allegedly imitating me, and then, for not being there to fight Voldemort," Harry growled, his emerald eyes flicking up to meet Shacklebolt's own. "Two of whom I knew at Hogwarts, I should add. I didn't expect any better from Finch-Fletchley, he loved smearing my name. So much for Hufflepuff loyalty. But what did I ever do to Finnegan?"

"A lot has happened in nearly thirty years," Shacklebolt said.

"Actually, given how Sirius was sent to Azkaban for twelve years, I'd say nothing has changed for the better," Harry retorted bitterly. The bruises and broken ribs had been healed, but the shock, and the anger and bitterness that followed, couldn't be. "I mean, assuming this isn't some delusion curse Voldemort forced on me in the graveyard."

"The same could be said about us seeing you. You went missing, as did Cedric Diggory, for so long. The Unspeakables are having a field day, trying to discern how it happened. However, Goblin inheritance potions don't lie, and we've had you undergo the test. Welcome back, Harry Potter."

"Funny. I don't feel very welcome. I feel like a prisoner. Have done ever since I was attacked by your bully-boys in Hogsmeade without any warning."

"Not mine anymore. I haven't been head of the DMLE for years."

A scoff escaped Harry's lips. "You're the Minister of Magic. As far as I'm concerned, they're yours. So, why am I still here?"

"…As it happens, I considered who would be best to discuss living arrangements with you. I told you I was once a member of the Order of the Phoenix, but when Dumbledore revealed what your living arrangements were…I was unhappy, to say the least, as were many of the others. So I thought you'd appreciate having some say, and with someone you trust, regarding your living arrangements. As it happens, she's over from Japan, speaking with Headmistress McGonagall at Hogwarts. She wanted to come over straight away, but I wanted to speak with you first. Besides, she's probably one of the few people who went to Hogwarts with you who wouldn't start a fight with you."

"I was travelling through time, for God's sake!"

"And we were living through war. I'm not saying it is right to blame you, but many believed you dead, or fleeing. Voldemort and his cronies took great delight in claiming you fled like a coward, and it stuck in the minds of many. And many lost their family during the war. You're an easy scapegoat to pin blame on. I'm sorry."

"Are you? Are you really?" Harry muttered bitterly.

"I am, yes. I can't speak for really anyone else in Magical Britain, barring a few."

Harry lapsed into sullen, bitter silence. As homecomings were, it could have been better. Much better. He wasn't expecting to return a conquering hero, true, but he didn't expect to be treated like a criminal. He'd gotten out of that graveyard by the skin of his teeth, having barely survived his duel with Voldemort, and by sheer luck than by any real skill. He'd noticed the spell hitting the Portkey, but hadn't thought much of it, what with focusing on escaping more than anything else. He was surprised to end up in Hogsmeade, with the body of Cedric Diggory in tow, with Hogsmeade somewhat changed. He happened to surprise some Aurors, who soon Stunned him, and took him to the DMLE.

That had been the beginning of the nightmare. A nightmare where faces he had known, now older, sneered at him and beat him. It wasn't until Shacklebolt came along that he got any kind of respite…at least from the physical attacks. But not from the horror he was beginning to grasp.

The year was 2022. He was a little under 27 years into the future. And Voldemort had nearly won.

Harry was still finding it hard to grasp. Some part of him was hoping, beyond all hope, that this was some curse Voldemort had inflicted on him, filling his head with hallucinations, a delusional nightmare. Unfortunately, it was a very tenacious nightmare. So too was the despair creeping up on him, and the anger.

Leaving aside the fact that he had not been there to help stop Voldemort, he wasn't there to save those people. Half of the Weasleys were wiped out, and the remainder had left for Romania. Remus and Sirius perished too, as would Dumbledore. Others had lost so much, and many blamed Harry for it. Then again, given what he endured from Rita Skeeter and the students at Hogwarts during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, what could he expect?

The images sounded nightmarish, too, like something out of tales of World War II and the Holocaust. The Statute was only just barely preserved, but it was a near thing. The cost was high, too high, and Shacklebolt's reassurances that this wasn't his fault did sod-all. The guilt clung to him viciously, like an oversized tick, draining him of his self-assurance. No, it felt like a Dementor was in the room with him, as if he'd never feel happy ever again.

His thoughts were interrupted when a buzzer came from the intercom. "Minister?" asked the secretary. "Headmistress McGonagall and Dr Hosaka are here, along with…a guest."

"Thanks. Send them in, please."

"I don't know a Dr Hosaka," Harry said, voicing his bemused thoughts. It sounded Japanese.

"That's her married name," Shacklebolt said, looking altogether too amused. "After all was said and done, she had little left for her here. She eventually left for Japan."

Harry opened his mouth to demand he stop talking in riddles, but the door opened behind him. He turned in his seat…only to stop, and stare. Three people had entered the room, two of them he recognised.

The one he didn't recognise was a short girl with light brown hair in an unruly mess, her brown eyes having the epicanthic folds of someone with Oriental ancestry. If the name 'Hosaka' was any indication, as well as Shacklebolt's words, she was at least part-Japanese. She was dressed in a hoodie which had a logo of a mouse or a rat and 'NEZU' on it in large English letters. She appeared to be about his age, give or take a year, and her expression was one of curiosity, like a cat peering at a wriggling bit of string, or a rat looking at a piece of cheese.

The older of the two women was, well, VERY old. He recognised those pinched and stern features anywhere, even if they were currently staring at him in disbelief and shock. Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts…only, if what the secretary said was true, she was actually the Headmistress now.

The younger of the two women…well, it took a moment for him to recognise her. The bushy hair, the dark brown eyes…he recognised those. But the features were those of an adult, and careworn, her frame taller. Emotions were warring on that face that was so maddeningly familiar, and yet so different. "…Harry?" she whispered.

"…Hermione?" Harry asked incredulously.

Oddly enough, it was the teenaged girl who made her move, trotting up to Harry and peering at him. "Eh? This is the guy you told me about, Mum?" she asked, her English accented but quite good.

"It is," Hermione said, stepping hesitantly towards Harry. She looked at Shacklebolt, who nodded.

"It's him. Inheritance Potion confirmed it."

Harry bit back a stupid impulse to say something like, You got old, Hermione. It would be rude, after all, not just in general, but well, discussing a woman's age like that wouldn't work out. Instead, he stood, and hugged his now-older friend. Bitterness and despair was replaced by some small relief, that she at least survived, and wasn't out to attack him. Then, words began spilling from his lips, like water from a spigot. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry I wasn't there, I'm sorry, I…"

"…Don't be." With two softly spoken words, Hermione put a stopper in the stream of guilty words that was gushing from him.

"Exactly, Mr Potter," McGonagall said, her voice still strong despite her advanced years. "I am sure that if you were able to come to us in our time of need, you would have, what happened during the Tri-Wizard Tournament notwithstanding. However, I must apologise. I should have done more, but Dumbledore…let's just say that he made many mistakes and bad decisions, and one of his greatest talents was having people go along with them."

Shacklebolt nodded solemnly. "We survived, though. Minerva, I have checked. There's nothing left in the scar."

"…Thank Merlin for that. I'm sorry you've come back to us too late, Harry. But…you should be able to resume your life. Though I daresay living in Britain will be…difficult."

Hermione nodded. "A lot of people blame you for not being there. Some thought you were dead, and others thought you'd fled after the battle against Voldemort. He encouraged that view, he and his followers. Eventually, I couldn't stand it anymore. After all was said and done, I completed my education, and went to Japan."

"Why Japan?" Harry asked.

"I did a thesis on artificial intelligence, and it caught the eye of people there," Hermione said. "And to tell the truth…there's nothing left for me here. Just memories, mostly bad ones. And Muggleborns are still treated with contempt."

"And what about your parents, Hermione?"

Before Hermione could reply, the teenaged girl shrugged. "Grandpa and Grandma weren't really on talking terms with Mum for quite a while. She Obliviated them and sent them to Australia to keep them safe from Voldemort. Hell, they only reconciled when I was born. I can't blame Mum for wanting to get out of Britain, though. Japan's got a LOT of faults, Magical Japan even more so, but the British wizards? Yeah…really, the only reason Mum was here when you turned up was because she was guest lecturing at Hogwarts on Minny's request. And I'm here because I wanted to see Hogwarts again. Didn't think I'd get to meet the Boy Who Lived."

"He hates that name, Kitten," Hermione chided the girl who was apparently her daughter.

"Muuummm, I keep telling you, I'm not a kitten!" the girl complained, pouting.

"And I am not 'Minny'," McGonagall said archly. "If you were a student, I'd be taking points off you."

"Yeah, well, I ain't your student, Minny. It's whatever tutors Mum and Dad can hire who are fine with teaching someone who got kicked out of Mahoutokoro because the teachers there are suck-ups to those with connections and money."

"…Uhh, what?" Harry asked.

"It's a long story," Hermione said, before she facepalmed. "Damn, I haven't even introduced her yet. I got so caught up in seeing you again, I forgot."

"You have a daughter," Harry said. "She definitely had your eyes…and your hair. Not your adherence to the rules, though."

"She definitely has my intelligence, though."

"Yep. Hey, Mum, allow me to introduce myself, okay?"

"…Okay. Just don't charge him for the privilege."

"Of course not!" The girl turned to Harry, and smiled in a way that was both warm and yet impish. "Nice to meetcha, Harry Potter! I'm Tomo Hosaka-Granger! Of course, online, they know me by a different name."

"…Online?"

"Tomo, MMORPGs weren't around as much when he vanished," Hermione explained patiently. "The internet was only just coming into homes in a big way in the 90s."

Tomo groaned. "Oh God, the Dial-Up Dark Ages, before broadband, before Wi-Fi…before anything fun! Anyway, if you want…you can call me Argo…"

PROLOGUE ANNOTATIONS:

And on that bombshell, goodnight!

Now, Argo's real-life name has only been recently revealed in the Sword Art Online novels as Tomo Hosaka. How old she is is never really stated, but reading up on TV Tropes and after discussion, I've decided that she's about 14-16 around the time Aincrad begins. I'll basically have her about 15 when it begins for this story.

No numbered annotations this time.