Jon sucked in a startled breath as he caught his first glimpse of the man (mage? Warrior?) that his family had kept secret for century upon century.
One only thought made any sense in the muck his jumbled thoughts had become:
Green.
The man had green eyes, like none he'd ever seen, outshining even the fabled green-eyes of the Lannisters, comparing the two like comparing emeralds to first green of spring shoots – both beautiful but one infinitely more precious than the other.
A smirk crossed what could only be described as a "pretty" face, the green-eyed man raising to his full height – smaller than Jon's or most grown men he'd ever met – after having clearly cataloged them all and dismissed them as threats.
He cocked his head and spoke in High Valyrian to the shock and surprise of his audience.
"You summoned me, Master?" There was a definite heated drawl on the last word, making Jon gulp.
…Well. Jon decided after a moment. That was unexpected.
…
Harry James Potter-Black could not believe the very fucked-off detour his life had taken.
Or was this more of an after-life, he was a little fuzzy on that considering the many times he was supposed to have died already.
After, after-life?
Who knew but not really the point.
First, first, came the revelation that he had to fucking die to kill Voldemort.
Okay.
Fine.
He could – and did – deal with that, including making sure that all the Horcruxes went down.
Then he woke the fuck back up after one twisted version of The Five People You Meet In Heaven. Only he didn't get to meet his five people. No. Not Harry James Potter. He only got to meet one.
And it had to be the one that had consistently manipulated him and set him up for abuse his entire life after his parents died.
Honestly, he'd rather have met literally anyone other than Dumbledore.
Although, he could see the purpose in that particular mind-fuck at least. If they'd sent anyone else to him he'd probably have decided to stay and move on rather than go back and finish off Tommy-Boy. After all, who would want to risk being stuck in a damn train station with the architect of their abuse for their afterlife?
Not him, that was for sure.
Get presented as dead to all his friends, enemies, and allies?
Check.
Jump up and kill the megalomaniac when he was busy with his stereotypical-batshit-insane-villain speech?
Check, check.
Be glorified for killing Voldemort…again?
Check, check, check.
Have said friends, enemies, and allies turn on him?
Yep.
That happened too.
He couldn't even say it was a surprise. The track record wasn't exactly stellar in the Wizarding World for treating him with anything approaching respect or as a sentient human being. Nope. Heroes aren't real in the minds of the Wizarding World.
And Merlin forbid they do anything outside of the expectations of the general populace or the ruling establishment or there would be hell to pay.
Literally.
In his case it was years incalculable spent trapped in his own mind and a box that was too much like a coffin for his comfort with only the highlights of current events being transmitted to his half-awake and half-sleeping consciousness.
And the reason why he was cast into what any reasonable person would consider hell?
Because the Mrs. Minister of Magic a.k.a. Molly Weasley nee Prewett was pissed that instead of "settling-down" with her darling-daughter-dearest and making Ginny Lady Potter-Black (and wasn't he pissed to find out about that) thereby giving her daughter and his in-laws access to his vaults and holdings…Harry wanted to travel.
See the world.
Sample the fare in far off places.
But the kicker – and what knocked her right off her rocker and launched the vendetta that would ultimately end in his imprisonment – was when he decided he liked blokes as much as birds…if not more.
Apparently Mrs. Weasley had not taken the pictures of him snogging Blaise Zabini on the Amalfi Coast well. At all.
Which kicked off the series of unfortunate events that led him to the here-and-now: alive, somehow, in a strange age and era far removed from that of his own birth, and in service to the amethyst-eyed teen-warrior before him.
Fan-bloody-tastic.
The teenager wasn't alone, having been accompanied by a group of men all in black, The Night's Watch his mind whispered.
Thank god for the spell Teddy had cast when he found him trapped. His wolf-cub hadn't been able to free him from his tomb in the bowels of the Chamber of Secrets but he was able to make it so when or if he truly awoke he wouldn't be completely lost and at sea in a new time. His cub was a miracle and the only reason Harry still had anything even resembling sanity left.
None of them however save for the teen who set him free and the massive white wolf he spied lurking in the shadows was a threat.
Small blessings.
Arching a brow, he smirked ready to tease.
"You summoned me, Master?"
…
Harry waited patiently for the amethyst-eyed teen to respond while mentally cataloging everything he knew about the current Age.
It was odd.
For one, he seemed to know more about this Age than he did many others since he'd been locked away like the weird love-child of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty.
Minus the kiss-of-love to wake him.
His eyes sharpened as he studied the whispering group behind his new…well…parole officer for lack of a better term.
They were injured, some of them quite badly.
Hissing under his breath, he strode around the pretty one and up to the most injured of the men, summoning his wand from the holster with a flick of his wrist. In the aftermath of the Final Battle, his "friends" had pushed for him to return the Elder Wand to Dumbledore's tomb…but that had never sat quite right with him. A hunch that was proven true when the tomb was broken into…again…mere days after the Final Battle once it'd been bandied about that that was where he'd hidden it.
Idiots.
He was occasionally oblivious and ridiculously hard-headed, not a total tool. Ya
:::
Part 1 available to download.
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