So, after writing the first few chapters of the original Who Saves the Saviours?, I realised it wasn't quite working. After some thought, I decided to revisit one aspect of the plot I had considered, which was basically using elements from DZ2's challenge prompt 'Never Forget! Never Forgive!', albeit toned down from the darker turn Harry's character was supposed to take in that prompt. Harry will still be a darker character after what he goes through, and he needs to be to be paired with Morgan, even one toned down, but he's not going to be as unforgiving.

As always, there's no guarantee it'll become a full fic. But I hope you enjoy...

WHO SAVES THE SAVIOURS? (REVISED)

CHAPTER 1:

THE AMNESIAC AND THE FAE

MEMORANDUM FROM THE WIZARD-MARSHALL, RE: "THE TALES OF TONELICO"

Firstly, let me start off by saying I was most annoyed after returning from my prior expedition to hear demands made of the Enforcers to track down and deal with the writer of these rather entertaining works. The diminishing of Mystery is indeed of not-inconsiderable concern, not helped by the rise of modern science and technology. There are ways and means around that, but common sense is increasingly an oxymoron these days.

I also should reiterate that fictitious rendering of magecraft only rarely affects Mystery. As many of the feats mentioned in The Tales of Tonelico are actually well beyond most if not all modern Magi, I doubt that it would cause any reduction in Mystery. Thus, most declamations against the author of these works are caused by ego and pride rather than true concern about the state of Mystery.

In fact, I believe another influence is the recent cessation of Voldemort's uprising amongst our cousins in the 'Wizarding World'. As much as we believe we are not part of their world, should Voldemort have succeeded in taking over the Ministry of Magic, we would have been next, a mostly-unspoken fear amongst us. This fear gave rise to paranoia about exposure of the Moonlit World to the mundane populace, not wholly unreasonable during Voldemort's insurgency, but now, several years after Voldemort was vanquished, as out of place in the Magus' Association as it is within the Ministry of Magic.

Thus, I decided to nip this in the bud. It was to this end that I sought out the author of these books, who goes by the pseudonym of 'Abigail Spinster'. I found ways to approach her in a civil manner, and she eventually agreed to a meeting. Miss Spinster is a most congenial young lady, and showed remarkable intelligence in my dealings with her. I learned a great deal many things from her, things which I will not be sharing out of respect to her and her associates.

However, I should say this: do not attempt to seek her out ever again. Should I learn that this was the case, then I will consider those involved (should they survive Miss Spinster's attentions, or that of her associates) to be volunteering themselves to assist with my next expedition via Kaleidoscope. Said expedition will probably involve slime, tentacles, poisonous swamps, parasitoid organisms, or a combination of the above. Please do not test me on this. I hate having to clean up afterwards, and the paperwork is irritating.

Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg.

A pair of icy blue eyes scanned over a sheaf of papers, reading them. Most attempting to read the papers would have been confounded. After all, the writing was not in an alphabet known to most of humanity.

Yet oddly enough, as the owner of said eyes read the papers, a CD player played Queen nearby. Specifically, Bohemian Rhapsody. Every now and then, the woman would hum or even sing snatches of the song, bobbing along to the song.

A few seconds after she finished reading and placed the papers down on the table, the door to the room opened, and a diminutive form in pink waddled in. "So, finished readin' my report?"

"Yes, it's most informative, Totorot, thank you. Admittedly, I still have that vile excuse of a Magus' memories, so I already had a firm grasp of the basics of Proper Human History. Or perhaps I should call it Standard History. History is not just the story of humans, but of all beings that live in this world, after all. But thank you for noting down some of the particulars."

"Hey, that's fine. Took some doin', gettin' the newspapers. And we've got a television, if you're interested. Pain in the arse gettin' the licence fee paid, but what can you do?"

"Hmm. Incidentally, how are the new recruits faring?"

"Ehh, sort of well. I had to remind the dragon brat about radar, just in case the local military thinks she's some experimental aircraft or a missile while she's flyin'. That would've been a disaster durin' the Cold War. As for Baggy, she asked Ector to spar with her. And as for your daughter…she's watchin' Baggy and Ector. But you'll need to talk with her. What she went through…"

"…I know. My other self told me as such in the message she sent into my mind. Still…to think that you gained the attention of the wielder of the Second True Magic. Our attempt at traversing took much of my energy, enough that I needed to sleep for decades, barring the times you woke me, but…at least you have this Zelretch as a contact at the Magus Association. Still…it seems this is not the same timeline that loathsome Magus came from, or indeed my Standard History self. Two branches of magic users, one of whom can use magic with relative impunity, yet indolent and weak, obsessed with lineage when they have no cause to, while the other, the Magi we know, mostly amoral and ambitious, grubbing for a route to Akasha."

"Yeah, well…that brings us to the kid," Totorot said solemnly. "Well, he's a young man now. I sent him down to the village to post some parcels for us while you guys awoke and I brought you up to speed. He wanted to meet you, I told him all the tales about you, and not just the ones in the books I wrote."

"Yes…" the pale woman said, looking back down to the report. "According to this, he came to your door begging for food and shelter after the nearby village refused him, and, well, it turns out he had a curse on him."

Totorot nodded. "Well, more than a few, but the most concernin' one at the time was basically one that made people near him feel hatred towards him. Works on humans, but on Fae? Hell, it even felt like a Fae curse. Managed to break it off him, thankfully. The villagers are more acceptin', but he's not happy around them after what they did to him. Some even ganged up on him and beat him up. Anyway, while I removed that curse from him, I ain't as good at magic as you are. And there's a number of other curses on him. One's suppressin' his memories, I think, while another changed his appearance. Another's also prevented him from bein' tracked, for some reason. If it were just those, I'd say he did it to himself, to lay low, but why would you put a curse on yourself that makes people hate you? Unless you were some kind of masochist, anyway."

"A fair point." The pale woman frowned as she felt something ping her newly-erected Bounded Fields. These were detection and intent-based, so whoever did so was not hostile. She got up, and walked to the window, and looked out. The young man walking up the path towards the front door, barely an adult, fit the description of 'nondescript' to a tee, his only features of note being sunken, hazel eyes framed by glasses and a scrawny, lanky physique. "Is that him?"

"Yeah. The ID he found in his pocket claimed he was 'Tobias McGoohan(1)'," Totorot said. "I've been callin' him that for want of an actual name. It also claimed he recently got released from some place called St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. But he doesn't act like he's some criminal. If anythin', he's pretty eager to help. Hell, he even reminds me of Uther a little."

"If he has lived with you for a few years without incident, I'll take your word for it. Would he consent to my trying to find a way to undo those curses?"

"He's been wonderin' who he really is ever since he got here," Totorot said. "He'd probably jump at the chance to know who he really is."

"Hmm. Then for helping you if nothing else, he deserves a boon…"

The pale woman found the young man in the front hall, taking his shoes off. He looked up at her, before he seemed to do a double-take, even blushing a little. The pale woman smiled a little. She had assumed a more adult body permanently ever since Uther died, though she had used an adult form in private around friends, especially when she coupled with Uther.

"Good afternoon," she said, hoping her tone was welcoming enough. "You must be Tobias McGoohan, or at least what your name was assumed to be."

"Ah…yes, sorry. Umm, what should I call you?" he asked, a little apprehensively. His accent wasn't Scottish. If anything, it sounded more like from the southern parts of England, given what she knew from Beryl Gut's vile memories. London or one of its suburbs, perhaps?

"For now, call me…Vivian," the pale woman said. "My birth name has unpleasant connotations in this timeline, and the name I was known by for much of my life is one I do not like going by now."

"Okay…Vivian it is," Tobias said, before looking to Totorot. "I've got the items ready to be sent at the post office, and I made sure the grocer's will send the food before long."

"Did they give you any trouble?"

"Not really, but…even though you lifted that curse, they still seem to think I was released from some sort of borstal," Tobias said, running a hand through his messy dark hair. "The thing is, I just can't remember."

Vivian chose that moment to interject. "If I may?" As he looked to her, she added, "I am well-read and learned when it comes to magic of many kinds. I cannot guarantee that I can remove what curses that ail you. But if you are willing to allow me to try, then I will do so."

He looked at her for a moment, clearly mulling it over, before he muttered, "What have I got to lose?"

That was depressing, hearing so much resignation in the voice of one so young. After all, death was forever, and as long as one had one's life, one could live. Still, the request had been made, and she intended to carry it out…

She escorted him into her study, having him sit opposite her on a couch opposite, before she began casting spells. When the results entered her mind, she scowled. She was impressed at the intricacy of the interlocking curses, but their intent was clearly malign. Even the spells to turn that treacherous little bitch of a Fae into a doppelganger of herself after Uther's death didn't feel as bad.

But she felt confident about removing them, and removing them without causing damage to him, at least from removing the bindings themselves. Unfortunately, uncovering the hidden memories may cause trauma when they were revealed. This was not a magical problem, but a psychological one. And the process would still be painful. Not to mention invasive: she would have to use lesser-used mental magic to probe his mind in order to remove at least one of the curses binding his memories.

Still, she related this calmly to Tobias. And to give him his due, he looked suitably disturbed and wary. "So…it will hurt?"

"Unfortunately, it probably will," Vivian said. "Whoever did this was spiteful, awe-inspiringly so. But…I will remove them from you, albeit only with your permission."

After a moment, he met her gaze with her own, a mixture of determination and despair in them. "…I don't know who I am," he eventually confessed. "I've spent the last few years not knowing who I am, whether 'Tobias McGoohan' is my real name or not, why I have amnesia. When Totorot told me I had been cursed…is it for a reason? I'm a little afraid to learn what kind of person I am, and yet…I'm sure I'm not a bad person, that I'm not a criminal. I just…want proof."

Vivian's Fae Eyes were not perfect, or else she would have sensed every betrayal she underwent long before it happened. But they were good enough. The boy seemed earnest enough, and she hoped it would stay that way, or at least that Totorot and Ector hadn't let a viper into the nest.

With that, she walked over to the couch, sitting down next to him. "Very well. But…prepare yourself. This is not going to be pleasant by any means. If you're lucky, there'll be little pain at all. But it may be that the trauma of your memories will cause a reaction. Are you ready?"

"…Let's just get this over with," Tobias said quietly.

Vivian nodded, before gently taking his head in her hands, her eyes gazing into his own. And then, she began to probe his mind, and the curses on him with it. And she fervently hoped that she didn't mess things up.

Undoing complicated enchantments like this was not unlike picking a lock. It was delicate work requiring concentration and dexterity. She even paralysed him to ensure he didn't move.

She saw the few memories he had as she probed. Of being rejected by the people in Orkney, and rather violently at times. Even the Fae didn't have such irrational kneejerk hatred most of the time, which spoke much of the curse. Of meeting Totorot and Ector, and the gratitude he felt for their kindness. His desire to help, but also to learn who he really was.

It was far more pleasant than sifting through her Standard History self's memories, or those of that appalling Magus she intended to clone. Beryl Gut should have been left for dead, but if her other half followed the dictates of her Standard History self, then he would be.

After about half a minute of probing, she reckoned she found it. Unlock this part of the curse array, and the rest would fall apart. Thankfully, non-lethally, she'd found the means to prevent that, as the curse array had a few booby-traps. Whoever did this was utterly vindictive.

Her hand reached out in reality and gently squeezed his own. "Ready yourself. I'm about to remove them." After a few seconds, she began.

To help prevent him from drowning in the influx of memories, she had to slow them herself. And in doing so, she saw highlights of his life. Yet memories were not wholly like water. Copies of parts of her own purled off in the process, and she didn't wish to stop them in case it ruined the process.

But she lived a life in highlights. From his earliest vague memory of remembering his mother being murdered, to a dark childhood, leading up to learning he was famous for surviving being orphaned. Triumph and tragedy…it was a beautiful life, and yet, she began to get a sense of déjà vu.

And it came to a head when he just turned 15. A mockery of a trial after using magic to defend himself and that waste of space of a cousin of his. A railroaded verdict. A toad-like woman needing him silenced…and the unexpected offer of a man very familiar to the boy. One of his teachers. A greasy-haired sneering monster.

And then, the flood of memories came to an end. Vivian was left staring into his eyes, even as they rolled up into his sockets, and he slumped. Not quite unconscious, but exhausted.

Even now, his body was changing as the curse array released its grip on him. His physique remained more or less the same, but his face changed. A nasty scar, zig-zagging like a bolt of lightning, appeared on his forehead, reeking to her senses of a foul magic. It burst, leaking black gunk, and emitting a puff of dark smoke that screamed as it dissipated. And as his eyes fluttered open again, they were no longer hazel, but emerald.

Suddenly, he convulsed, clamping shut his lips, cheeks bulging. Recognising quickly what he was suffering from, Vivian created a bucket through Projection. There were few useless spells in the world, and despite what modern Magi thought, Projection, when used correctly, was useful. And just in time. Just as she was bringing it up to his chin, he unleashed the torrent of vomit he'd been vainly holding in. She rubbed his back as he heaved.

Eventually, he stopped. And as he met her gaze again, she smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. "Are you all right?"

After a moment, he began to laugh, the sound a tired, jeering bray. Not loud, but still piercing. She'd heard a similar laugh from her own lips after more than a few times when she had been betrayed. "…A version of Morgan le Fay from an alternate timeline is actually concerned about my well-being," he said, his voice soft and hoarse. "More than a lot of people in my life."

"I know," Vivian said, gently gathering him up into an embrace. "I know what it's like. I have seen into your memories."

"…And I saw into yours as well," the young man said quietly. "I…Totorot and Ector told me what you went through, but…to see it…you're like me."

Vivian nodded. "In some ways, yes. Your life seemed painfully familiar. But now that you have regained yourself, perhaps we should introduce ourselves again. I am Morgan, Avalon le Fae, also known as Vivian of the Rain Clan, and Aesc the Saviour."

After a pause, the young man said, "…Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and…I don't know what else anymore…"

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

So, there you have it. A different beginning to the original story, but one where Harry knows something of Morgan's own life. True, I've done this memory transfer thing before in Out of the Strong Came Forth Sweetness, but it's a good way to establish some modicum of trust.

Seriously, though, what has happened to Harry? Something to do with the hearing between Years 4 and 5 going awry, and Umbridge and Snape doing something to Harry. We'll learn more later.

1. Snape's chosen pseudonym for Harry's new persona is a bit of a 'fuck you'. 'Tobias' is the name of his abusive father, while 'McGoohan' is a reference to Patrick McGoohan, the star of the 60s spy-fi series The Prisoner. Given the mindfuckery in that series, with Number Six having continual threats to his identity and memory in some way, I thought it apt.