Foreword: I first started writing this back in January of 2001, and posted the first chapter of it to the CFFML in early March. Apparently, someone else recently started posting a suspiciously similar CCS/HP crossover to . Since I can't find said fic posted to any other ML, and therefore can't date it, I'm going to give them the benefit of the doubt and assume the writing of their fic is unrelated to this one.

Chapter 1

It was not a normal day in the life of sixteen-year-old Harry Potter. Of course, Harry's life hadn't been normal since age 11, when he found out that his parents had actually been powerful wizards and that he was going off to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to become one himself. No, Harry's life was far from normal, but today was especially so, seeing as how one does not everyday receive a letter from the Headmaster-after the end of the school year.

Said abnormal day had at least begun in the most normal fashion imaginable. Harry had slept through his alarm clock and was woken up by the sound of his Aunt Petunia screaming at him from his bedroom door.

"Harry Potter! Get out of bed this instant! Don't think for a moment you're going to slack off the whole summer!"

Mrs. Dursley actually said a little more than that, accompanied by frantic gesturing, but Harry didn't hear much of it. He tuned out the sound of her voice as he'd learned to do, and mumbled something approaching agreement as he dragged himself out of bed at his own pace. The Dursleys would no way no how set foot in his room and try to physically wake him; not after what had happened the last time their son Dudley had thought it'd be a lot of laughs to try tickling Harry whilst asleep. It had taken about a week before dandelions had ceased growing out of the Dursley boy's armpits. It could've gotten him into trouble with the Ministry and Hogwarts, but fortunately Dumbledore had suggested that people regularly did far worse to those who woke them up prematurely.

Aunt Petunia watched him with wary eyes for a few moments to ensure that he really was up for good, and then retreated back downstairs quickly. Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and fumbled around on the nightstand for his glasses.

The dream was fading, and in the manner of most dreams worth remembering, fading fast. Why couldn't the nightmares he'd had about his parents' deaths have fled his memory so easily? The very thought raised hairs on Harry's arms, and he sought to banish it from his mind by digging at the dream. A tall man with Asian features, dark hair, and dress typical of a wizard had been part of it-that much he could remember. A young girl. A language he couldn't understand.

Harry pulled a fresh pair of trousers on and worried at his lip. No, that was all, and even that much was getting fuzzy fast. Harry absently wished he'd paid more attention in the Dream Interpretation portions of his curriculum-he was always having odd dreams. The one good lesson that had come out of that was that most dreams did have some sort of underlying meaning, even if they were only a part of one's subconscious. He had never been any good at it, and it might be worth mentioning to Headmaster Dumbledore the next time he saw him.

As Harry made his way downstairs, all thoughts of Dumbledore and Hogwarts left his mind. He wouldn't be returning to his beloved school for a few months, and in the meantime he had to live with the Dursleys. The Dursleys were the most dreadfully mundane individuals in the world, and they loathed any reminder of who and what Harry was. In fact, it was fair to say that they loathed Harry himself, and took every opportunity to make sure he never forgot it. Living with the Dursleys and being a wizard was a lot like walking a tightrope in high heels over a pit of manure. One slip, and Harry could be in deep-

"Breakfast has been served!" came Aunt Petunia's shrill voice from the kitchen. "Another minute and Dudley will get your portion!"

Harry hurried to the kitchen and began to eat his breakfast-eggs and cereal-without without comment. He wasn't particularly hungry, but there was some question as to whether his cousin Dudley would be able to fit through the kitchen door if he ate more than one serving, and Harry wanted to go outside when he was done.

As he devoured his omelet, Harry heard a distinct /rat-a-tat-tap/ sound from outside. The Dursleys must have heard it too, because they looked around suspiciously, as if expecting mythical beasts to come leaping out of their orange juice. Harry glanced around the kitchen fruitlessly at first, and then went back to his meal.

/Rat-a-tap. Rat-tat-tatta-tap./ The Dursleys were looking at /him/ now, and that was bad. Raising his eyes from his plate, Harry saw a large owl pecking at the kitchen window. A large, unseasonably white owl.

Harry feigned great interest in his cornflakes.

"Dad!" Dudley whined. "Whatever's making that noise, make it stop!" Uncle Vernon swiveled his head halfway around. That was as far as the man's almost-nonexistent neck would permit, and the rest of the turn was accomplished by shifting his weight ponderously in the chair.

Harry hardly dared to look back up, but when he did, the owl was gone. Uncle Vernon gave a self-satisfied grunt, and reversed the turn. "Probably a bird. Petunia, remind me to set out some feed when breakfast is done."

Wolfing down as much of his breakfast as he could in thirty seconds, Harry picked up his plate and tried to excuse himself from the table. He made it as far as the kitchen sink, but as he was rinsing his plate, a now-familiar white visage came to the window in front of him.

/Rat-a-tat-tap./

As all eyes turned to face him and the window, Harry mentally counted the hexes that should befall whoever sent this owl to the kitchen in the middle of the day. Owls were the typical means of sending a message in the wizarding world, and were much more quick and efficient than the post anyway. However, to say that the Dursleys loathed any reminder of the wizarding world was perhaps an understatement. It outright /terrified/ them. As Harry opened the window to take the message, Uncle Vernon's face took on the aspect of a plump red apple, and Aunt Petunia shrieked illiterately. Dudley, who had often been the target-unintended and otherwise-of magical misfortunes, tried to scamper backwards, but found that the chair he was sitting in got in his way. Then he was falling back over it, breaking the chair into splinters under his considerable weight.

It was Vernon who first recovered, bolting out of his chair and thundering at Harry from a safe distance. "You were told to keep your... friends and their ratty birds away from this house, you worthless hooligan!"

Petunia was next, shooting a gaze filled with broadswords at Harry as she helped Dudley up off the floor. "And in broad daylight!" She sounded utterly scandalized. "The neighbors will be asking about it later, I just know it! The nerve!"

Harry was inclined to agree with the lack of wisdom in sending the owl in the middle of the day, but only because this reaction was completely and utterly predictable. "Whoever it was probably didn't know," Harry said defensively. "I've told everyone at Hogwarts not to-"

A cacophony immediately erupted from the Dursleys at the mention of the word /Hogwarts./ Harry winced, realizing that he should've known better. After the outburst calmed and Harry was sent to his room, he tore open the parcel to see what it was. Along with a letter, a small cloth bag fell out of the package, with a note hastily scribbled in Dumbledore's handwriting: /Read the letter first-when you're alone!/

As he quickly scanned the letter, Harry's heart began to race.

Dear Harry,
My apologies in advance for any troubles this causes with your Aunt and Uncle. However, this is a most important matter which could not bear to wait until nightfall.
We-that is, the Ministry of Magic and myself-need to speak with you in person straightaway. In the enclosed parcel you will find a portkey, which is enchanted to bring you directly to my chambers. Do not open this parcel until you've informed your Aunt and Uncle and are ready to transport, but please do so without delay! Bring your wand and your broom.
- Albus Dumbledore

/Is this about the dandelion incident?/ Harry wondered nervously. But no, that wouldn't make any sense-he'd just get a letter from the Ministry again, a written notice of some sort. It didn't add up. Whatever it was, he decided, it was an excuse to get away from the Dursleys for perhaps a day, and therefore worth whatever trouble he was in. A bad day at Hogwarts was infinitely preferable to a good day with the Dursleys any day of the year.

The reaction of the Dursleys was, again, predictable. They balked at first at the mention of Harry going away, since this sounded suspiciously like /fun/-and anything which brought Harry joy was to be discouraged, prohibited, and stomped on at every available opportunity.

"You're probably right, Uncle Vernon," Harry said with a sudden flash of insight. "I think they want to talk to me about the last incident with Dudley again." Harry did his best to sound uneasy at the prospect, and shifted from foot to foot.

Vernon's eyes veritably gleamed. "Is that so?" he huffed. Exchanging a glance with Petunia, he rubbed his hands together. "Well, we can't have you running away from your consequences, now. You've got to learn that indulging in that... foulness in this household will do nothing but get you in trouble!"

Dudley murmured his loud assent around a lox bagel, wide-eyed.

Harry fought to keep a dejected look on his face, inwardly praying that this turned out to be nothing more than a bluff, rather than a self-fulfilling prophecy. "If you say so," he replied quietly.

"Now then, how do you plan on getting there? Do we need to drive you to the train station again?"

Harry blinked, and pulled the parcel out of his pocket on an impish whim. "Not this time. They provided me with a portkey, so all I have to do is open this up and take it out."

The bait worked. Vernon's eyes became like saucers, and he roared, "NOT IN THIS KITCHEN, YOU DON'T!"

Harry made as if he'd been caught in the mid-motion of opening the parcel, and blinked innocently. "But... it really doesn't do anything, I just magically disappear."

Dudley had plastered himself against the far wall, his mouth working around the bagel. Aunt Petunia was yelling incoherently, occasionally forming words like /I never/ and /out of here now/. Uncle Vernon lunged towards Harry to stop him, but ended up getting the kitchen tablecloth caught in his belt buckle. The rest was just the natural progression of physics, and rather messy physics at that.

Turning and running before anyone saw his grin, Harry bolted up the stairs and gathered his belongings.

Note:
This is shaping up to be a /long/ fic, and since I'm intending this both for fans of CCS who might not have read HP, and vice versa, there's going to be a lot of setup and introduction of characters and concepts, exactly as if you were a new reader to both. As a result, this first chapter or two is *mostly* from the HP side, so bear with me.

Timewise, this fic is set in 1997, which means that Harry's about to start his last year of school, and the CCS manga is around the end of volume 5. You may assume all relevant spoiler warnings for both series for anything before that time. Anything set /after/ that time in CCS, or any books which follow book 4, may be assumed to be AU.