Harry looked at the building that had been his home for the last four years, before lifting his knapsack over his shoulder and climbing onto Squall, the black chocobo ruffling his feathers.

"Does it not feel real to anyone else?" Harry asked, looking away from the Rising Stones. Thancred looked over, shrugging.

"It was to happen someday, Harry. We aren't getting any younger and I think we all have parts of the world to see."

"I know that," the 19 year old Warrior of Light said, before sighing, "Doesn't make it any less real. I always figured I'd die a Scion."

"And there's the morbidity we all know and love," Thancred said, "you saved all reality, enjoy your retirement. I for one deeply appreciate the fact that we'll all live to be the same type of washed up, old hero as the Company of Heroes!"

Harry smiled at that. Trust his friend to always bring up the mood.

"I doubt such a fate suits Harry," Urianger said, "Tis not the type of person he is."

"I think I'm just gonna wander for a bit," Harry said, "get back to my roots from before Louisoux recruited me. Then… I don't know, Meracydia? The New World? We'll have to see. So long as I have this, I have a responsibility to see the world, I suppose."

"This" was the orange soul crystal that marked Harry as the reincarnation of Azem, the symbol of the seat carved into it.

"But continue to travel you shall," Urianger observed.

Everyone stopped as they heard a hoot from above them, Harry rolling his eyes and turning to the barney owl sitting above the Rising Stones.

Again?

"Best pick it up," Thancred said, "It won't leave you alone otherwise."

Harry sighed, reaching out and undoing the string holding a thick envelope of parchment from the bird, "I swear, you'd think they realized I had better things to do during the bloody apocalypse. And I'm not anymore interested to go to a school now eithe-"

The moment Harry took the letter off the bird, he felt an unfamiliar hooking sensation behind his navel, and felt himself suddenly be ripped away from his friends, legs clenching tightly to Squall and fingers incapable of letting go of the letter in his hand.

Finally, they slammed into the ground, and Harry immediately lept into action. Flipping off Squall, he drew Aeneas from his hip, the rapier-cum-magical focus flashing in the candlelight as he entered a combat position.

"Expelliarmus!" a snide voice called and Harry felt a sharp wrenching on Aeneas. Tightening his grip, he span the rapier and clicked the Aetheric Accelerator onto the end.

"Verfire!" He snapped, launching a ball of fire at the greasy haired man. A wave of a wand, of all things, caused the spell to crash against an invisible barrier.

"Enough!" A deep, booming but elderly voice called, causing Harry to snap out of his focus and stare at the man at the head of the table. He reminded Harry, loosely, of Louisoux. Old, with a long bread, though he was wearing some of the gaudiest clothes Harry had ever seen, deep purple robes with sparkling stars, "enough."

—

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, a man burdened with too many titles and responsibilities to care about them more often than not, but proudly the Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, looked over the man who appeared in the crash of a portkey. His first thought, understandably, was that the portkey had caught Harry's guardian, assuming he had one. The young man was, by all conventional logic, too old to be Harry Potter.

But as he looked at the man more, Dumbledore was forced to concede that maybe conventional logic wasn't going to cut it. It wouldn't be the first time that was true in his life, and it (hopefully, he still had another century in him if he had anything to say about it) certainly wouldn't be the last. He looked like James Potter had at that age, plus a scruff of beard, a tan and Lily's green eyes. He mulled over the option, even as he lowered the Elder Wand from his throat, where he had cast and Amplifying Charm to interrupt the burgeoning duel between Severus and the man.

Glancing at the ruffled looking chicken-like bird, Albus quietly confirmed it wasn't anything he had ever seen. The size of a horse, with ink black plumage and a a small hat on its head. On it was a set of camping gear, several saddle bags and extra weapons. A large, mechanical looking sword, a pair of spiked gauntlets, a staff, a large muggle rifle, a spear, several blue shards of crystal and, oddly, a frying pan.

Looking back at the tanned man, Dumbledore couldn't help but feel, perhaps hypocritically, that his outfit felt quite dated. A gray, pleated tunic, with brown boots and a green cape, a bracer on one wrist and a pair of belts with a small dirk on his hips. Around his neck was a necklace consisting of several crystals, most prominently an orange one engraved with the Alchemical symbol for the sun.

"Forgive me for asking this, my boy, but is your name Harry Potter?"

Albus remembered arriving on Number 4, Privet Drive the day the monitoring charms had deactivated. Storming into the house, he had found the cot under the stairs and been beside himself with rage. He hadn't been that angry at a muggle since Arianna.

He had, honestly tempted to Obliviated them of the time Harry had lived with them. Even if he found Harry, there was no chance he would return him to the Dursleys. If Harry's magic had reacted so much as to accidentally apparate him, they clearly weren't fit to take care of Harry, even with Lily's protection.

The man's eyes, emerald green and under a pair of glasses, stared at Albus accusingly, "You kidnapped me and aren't even sure I'm the right person?"

"In our defense, if you are him, you're quite a bit older than we expected," Albus said.

—