So, bad news. On writing more of Saudade, I realised that I wasn't liking the direction it was going. I wanted Harry and Raphtalia's relationship to be better established prior to them going to Melromarc, and Harry as the Shield Hero wasn't quite working, even with Sirius and Raphtalia by his side. I felt he was going to get to Naofumi-levels of nastiness too quickly, so I changed things around. So I did abandon writing that story, but I soon began work on another similar crossover. Harry won't be the Shield Hero, but he will be travelling with Raphtalia to help Naofumi. However, the first few chapters of this story will establish Harry and Raphtalia's relationship.

This was actually based very roughly on a prior story idea I had previously discussed with Arawn D Draven, where Harry, Raphtalia and Hermione (post-Hogwarts) travel back to Raphtalia's world and assist Naofumi, with Raphtalia having lived with Harry and joined him on his adventures. But I wanted to actually show their relationship developing, hence my change of plans to Saudade. In a way, this story is the best of both worlds of that idea and Saudade, though there is no guarantee, as always, that this'll become a full fic.

Still, I feel better about this idea. The title is very fitting for The Rising of the Shield Hero: it's Latin for "Do brave deeds, and endure".

Anyway, I hope you enjoy...

FAC FORTIA ET PATERE

CHAPTER 1:

THE MAGICIAN'S APPRENTICE

Wind tore at her clothes and body, unearthly wind that was visible, in sickly colours, like an eldritch oil spill. She couldn't help but scream in pain as she was torn from the last vestiges of what she knew. Then again, she knew she was about to die. She just didn't expect it to be this way.

That fat noble had gotten his kicks torturing her, but now, he had a use for her, he had told her. Mages under his employ were working on a ritual to reverse the ageing of a person using time magic, but he was cautious. The ritual was dangerous and experimental. He wanted to use her as a guinea pig. He taunted her, hoping she would regress to an infant or a foetus he could stomp to death.

But things had gone wrong. The only consolation from her death was that she saw that wicked man and his cronies ageing, withering, decaying and crumbling to dust before the energies consumed her completely. That, and perhaps she would be able to see her mother and father again. True, she was leaving behind her friends, Rifana and Keel, and of course Sadeena, her big sis, but perhaps the noble's demise would lead to their freedom. It was a probably vain hope, but she clung to it regardless.

After too long, her journey ended, and she found herself in a darkened chamber, almost bereft of decoration. A stone hard floor, cold and unwelcoming, was all she could see in the dim light. She wondered whether this was the domain of Death, that this was the cold anteroom before judgement.

She spent the best part of a minute weeping, her tears beading on the stone floor, before a door opened, and then, the chamber was filled with light. It took her a moment to adjust, though she heard the soft footfalls which came to a stop near her. She looked, and saw the robed figure. Was this Death? Was he here to judge her?

The robed figure knelt next to her, and a hand gently brushed away her fringe. She realised that, if this was Death, then it wasn't the skeletal reaper she had feared. Indeed, she glimpsed a face beneath the hood. The lips moved, and he spoke, but she couldn't understand the words.

"…M-M-M-Mr Death, I d-don't understand you," she said.

After a moment, he nodded, and took what looked like a magic wand from his robes, casting a spell on her. As she flinched on instinct, the man took off his hood, revealing an older, vaguely thuggish and yet scholarly face(1). "Can you understand me now, child?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice. But he smiled a kindly smile. "It's okay. I'm not here to hurt you. It seems someone has done more than enough hurt to you already," he remarked, looking at her bruised limbs and tattered clothes. He touched her shackles, and examined the half-revealed slave crest on her. "Nasty piece of work. I don't recognise the circle, but I think I can guess its intent. Just a moment. Alohamora."

Her shackles popped open, and fell onto the floor with a soft clatter. She looked up into his eyes, and realised he would help her. "Sir…" she began, "…who are you? Where am I? Are we still in Melromarc?"

The man blinked. "Melromarc? Where have I heard…? No, never mind. Child, you're in the Department of Mysteries, underneath the city of London, England. Though I suspect that you come from another world, especially with those ears and that tail. Wherever you came from, you came here by accident, and I am not sure I can return you. But as to my name, I am Saul Croaker, a scholar if you will. And what's your name?"

It took her a moment to gather her courage, trying not to think about her being trapped on another world. Instead, she said, "My name is…"

"Mr Potter."

Harry was startled out of his reverie, his despondent and shocked state, by the soft rasp of a voice. "What?" he asked, more than a little sharply.

"Mind your tone, Mr Potter. I know you're considerably upset, and with very good reason," the hooded man said to him as the elevator descended. "But I just went out on a limb for you. I'm hoping Albus won't be too upset, but given what Fudge and his backers and bootlickers just did, this will at least be a better solution than you being forced out of our world."

"And why did you do it, huh?" Harry asked. "What do you get out of it? And how do I know you're on my side? I know about Rookwood, how he was a Death Eater."

"Do you, now? Well, I will admit that Rookwood was one of my biggest regrets, Mr Potter. The Department of Mysteries is meant to hold itself to the highest standard for its personnel, but Rookwood fooled us all. As for whether I am on your side or not…well, when Albus gets my message, he can confirm it. Though I'm sure your faith in the old man has been…shaken, somewhat. As for why…well, your mother once worked for me. A great mind, and an even greater heart."

The elevator halted with a cheery ding that ruined the mood, and the hooded man sighed, before walking off down a dark corridor. Harry, reluctantly, followed. He hoped he wasn't strolling into the lion's den, but what choice did he have?

He'd just been expelled from Hogwarts, his wand snapped. The perfect cap to a shitty summer.

First, his friends kept him in the dark, while he was tormented by nightmares of Cedric's demise. And he had to put up with his so-called relatives. Then, a pair of Dementors attacked, and when he used a Patronus to defend himself, he got stung with first an expulsion notice, and then a hearing notice. Then, he was brought to that shithole at 12 Grimmauld Place, and learned that he had a smear campaign against him, and his friends had been keeping it from him on Dumbledore's orders.

And now, less than an hour before, he had a hearing, one where Dumbledore was conspicuous by his absence, where Harry was unable to defend himself, with so many thinking him a liar. Not all of them voted against him, but too many. Way too many.

But at the last minute, this man, Croaker, swept in, and cited some regulation that allowed him to take Harry on as an apprentice. Fudge and that Umbridge woman protested, but Madam Bones supported the move. Harry had been reluctant to go with Croaker, until Arthur Weasley told him to do so.

As they entered a circular chamber lined with many doors, Croaker asked, "Now, Mr Potter, do you have any idea what the Department of Mysteries does?"

"…No. I think Mr Weasley pointed you and a guy called Bode to me at the Quidditch World Cup," Harry said. "Said you were Unspeakables."

"Indeed. We are called that because there is little we can talk of on our work, save for generalities. However, a close analogue in Muggle terms would be research and development, mostly in the mould of a university research laboratory, but with the secrecy of what they call a black project in the Muggle military. We research the fundamentals of magic, life, the universe, and everything, to paraphrase Douglas Adams. And we work with dangerous, even forbidden magic. I am told you are well aware of the Time-Turner Miss Granger ill-advisedly used during your third year. We were the ones who actually provided it. I actually wrote a letter to her, warning her to ensure her actions while using it fulfil what Muggles call the Novikov self-consistency principle of time-travel."

"I see," Harry said, frowning. Despite his anger and suspicion, he was actually intrigued. "So you know of Muggle science?"

Croaker chuckled. "Mr Potter, science has more links to magic than you would believe. We are still discovering those links, but there are certain overlaps. I believe your mother actually did more to bring many scientific theories to our attention than almost any other Unspeakable, particularly those relating to quantum physics. And while many an Unspeakable wouldn't touch Muggle science or technology with a ten-foot pole, others are not so wilfully ignorant." With that, he went over to a door and opened it.

As Harry hurried to follow him down the corridor revealed, he asked, "What about Voldemort?"

"Don't speak that name so lightly, Mr Potter," Croaker said with a scowl. "It's one thing to be needlessly afraid of his name, but that monster put a Taboo on his name during the last war. A charm that allows him to track who speaks his name with impunity, and murder them. Why do you think they were so afraid to say his name? It wasn't just because he was a monstrously powerful warlock."

"Nobody told me. All it was was either gasping in fear or telling me not to say it," Harry muttered. "But that's not what I mean. Do you believe he's alive?"

"…Your word and that of Dumbledore's alone is not enough for me. But when you've been an onlooker in how the Wizengamot works for decades, you learn to read the signs. Fudge's denial is partly born of fear, but also because of the…ahem, charitable donations certain people have given him. Something's got the so-called former Death Eaters working in a certain way, so I am inclined to believe you. But I'd like to see Pensieve memories, if I can. They're not admissible in court, as skilled people can edit memories, but it's for my personal satisfaction."

Harry wasn't sure if he wanted this man, a virtual stranger to him even compared to Fudge, to see his memories. And he had to admit to being a little offended that his word wasn't taken at face value, but even this much was better than what Fudge had offered. And to be fair, the thought that someone might come back from the grave was an implausible one, even in a world where magic reigned.

They made it to an office, Croaker removing his hood, revealing a careworn face that seemed both vaguely thuggish and yet scholarly. The office itself was fairly spartan, with a Newton's Cradle, a few books and papers strewn about, and some bookshelves. Croaker sat behind the desk, and invited Harry to sit in one of the chairs with a gesture. "Apprenticeships in the Department of Mysteries are rarely given to those yet to graduate from Hogwarts. I was considering reaching out to Miss Granger, along with a certain Miss Lovegood. However, if your tale of performing a Patronus is true, then that speaks to your magical potential, and I can now make up for any shortfalls in your education."

"And if Fudge and that Umbridge woman try to do anything?"

"The Department of Mysteries is semi-autonomous. Honestly, I'd be more worried about Dumbledore trying anything. He has a remarkable gift for bad decision-making, made with the best of intentions, and getting people to go along with them. He's not a truly bad man, just someone who keeps looking at the bigger picture too much, and not at the people affected by it. But still…"

Before he could continue, there was a knock on the door. "Mr Croaker? I have the notes you asked for from the archive."

Harry blinked. That sounded like a girl about his age. "Thank you. And Mr Potter is here. Come meet your future fellow apprentice."

The door opened, and a girl about his age in surprisingly casual clothing walked in, holding a pile of papers and booklets. She wore jeans, and a T-shirt advertising what looked like an anime film, Pom Poko(2). She was quite beautiful, too, her gentle features framed by light brown hair.

But she wasn't human.

True, the dark pink eyes could maybe have been human at a stretch, but the round ears certainly weren't. Neither was the bushy tail that wagged gently, protruding from her rear. He supposed they could have been adornments, but in this world, he'd seen Giant hybrids, werewolves, and the like. Why not a girl with animal ears and a tail?

She placed the pile of papers and booklets onto the desk. "Those were all I could find, that I have access to, anyway, Mr Croaker," she said apologetically. "There are many studies and reports on Dementor behaviour, but I tried to get the more credible tracts."

"Hmm. Thank you. I'm just hoping I am wrong. Oh, would you like me to introduce you, or would you like the honours?"

"Can I?" On Croaker's nod, she turned to him, and smiled. "Hello there, Harry Potter. I am Mr Croaker's ward and apprentice, Raphtalia. It's a pleasure to meet you…"

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

So, Raphtalia is in the Potterverse. And she's basically an apprentice Unspeakable. But this won't end well for Harry…

1. I've had it in my mind since Just a Touch of Kleptomania that Croaker would be played by David Troughton, the son of Doctor Who actor Patrick Troughton. Although David Troughton often plays villainous roles, I think he'd work well as Croaker. As a bit of trivia, David Troughton is uncle to Harry Melling, the actor who played Dudley Dursley.

2. The thought of Raphtalia, who is half-tanuki demi-human, wearing a T-shirt about a film about tanukis, is a funny one.