Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Dragon Ball Z. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Akira Toriyama, respectively (Plus some other organisations and companies).

A/N: Just in case anyone doesn’t know, veni vidi means: I came. I saw, in Latin — this is in response to Harry just being a spectator at the tournament, then later again when the DBZ gang watch him not-so-stressfully battling it out with Babadi.

I hope you enjoy.

SPOILER ALERT Deathly Hallows spoiler inside. Big one.

xxxxx

Epilogue: Where It All Began.

“Harry. Harry, wake up. Harry!”

The sleeping man jerked awake, yawning. “M’what?”

“It’s time to head out again.”

Harry rubbed sleep from his eyes, and peered at the watch on his wrist. “It’s five thirty in the morning!”

“I know,” said Hermione, her response a bit sharp. “But if you and Ron want to have your morning practise before we get to the bakery, you’ll have to do it now. We haven’t much time left.”

Harry stifled another yawn. “Okay.” His eyes flitted around. “Where is Ron?”

“He’s gone to the toilet. You’d better go, too.” Hermione’s head disappeared outside the flap of the tent once more and Harry, groaning, buried his head under his pillow.

He did not feel like practising this morning. In fact, he did not feel like doing anything this morning. The air was a little chilly, and he felt wonderfully warm and comfortable under his sleeping bag. He supposed he could spell himself a warming charm, but that wasn’t the point. A warming charm did not feel cushiony and soft.

He sighed, and threw back the sleeping bag, welcoming the cold rush of air about as much as he welcomed Snape swooping into the potions classroom. After getting dressed he pottered around the tent for a while, searching for his missing sock. He found it under Ron’s pillow and yanked it up his foot.

“Are you dressed?” came Hermione’s voice once more, muffled by the thick tent.

“Almost,” Harry called back. “Have you got my wand?”

“It’s in my pocket.”

“Good. Don’t lose it.”

He thought he heard Hermione tut irritatedly. “Have I ever?” she muttered. “And take out the knapsack. We’ll divide whatever’s left in it until we go shopping again. Come on, Ron’s waiting.”

“He can wait a few more minutes, can’t he?” Harry searched through his own pockets, intent on finding the small bag that they shrunk every day and enlarged again when they needed to eat. There was almost nothing in it now, and they would have to restock at the bakery, then at the nearest small grocery shop. He was about to lift it out and pass it through the flap, when his fingers brushed instead against a small glass feature.

He froze. Debated. Then, fingers curling over the dainty glass, unearthed it from his brimming pocket.

The dimensional turner.

Odd that he hadn’t thought of it in a while, especially as his entire life was now governed by this one little measly piece of glass and sand.

“Harry?”

“Coming.” He stuffed the dimensional tuner back into his pocket, a little relieved at remembering that he’d placed an unbreakable charm on it, then stepped into his shoes.

He exited the tent a minute later and gave the knapsack to Hermione. “Here.” She took it. “Ron, you ready?”

The redhead removed his hands from his pockets. “Yeah, mate.”

“Hermione, you’re sure you don’t want to learn?”

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes. “I told you, I’m not up to learning how to control my Chi.”

“It’s really quite easy when it’s all explained to you properly,” Harry urged. “I know you failed before but . . . wouldn’t it be good to have an extra power at your command? In case you loose your wand.”

Hermione shook her head, regret visible in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Harry. I just can’t do it. I tried but . . . I think I’ll always be the more studious type.”

Harry nodded, though he was disappointed. “Okay, but if you ever want to try again . . . I mean it took me months just to be able to form a small glow between my palms. And I can still only project it a few feet. It takes time. Ron can’t even project it at all yet!”

“Enough, Harry. I’m quite content with magic.”

“I only wish the Supreme Kai had stayed a little longer to teach you. I’m no good. I haven’t a clue what most of it means, and I . . . I get tired too frequently lately.”

“I’ve told you before, you’re expending too much of your energy.” Hermione’s Molly Weasley side was threatening to show. “You two need to cut down a bit before you fall unconscious!”

“I know,” said Harry quickly, thinking back to his lessons with Shin. “I know.”

“What, should we not practise this morning, then?” asked Ron.

“Well, I’d advise against it,” said Hermione slowly. “You’ve been practising and mediating every morning before breakfast for the past two months. But it’s really up to you.”

“You know, I would rather eat something fresh,” Ron speculated, scratching the back of his head. “And all the practising has made me feel more tired . . .”

“That’s that then,” Hermione injected very fast before Ron or Harry could think to say anything. “We’ll go to the bakery early and eat a hot breakfast there. What do you say?”

“I —” Harry began.

“Good,” said Hermione. “I’ll pack our belongings. Won’t take a moment.”

Harry and Ron stood watching bemusedly as their friend bustled around the camp, waving and swishing her wand. In under ten seconds everything was folded, packed, and shrunk.

“Ready,” Hermione said, her cheeks flushed. “Let’s go.”

They Disapparated, appearing in a small alley between a bookstore and the bakery. As they rounded the corner Ron stepped in some dung and had to charm it off discretely, while Harry and Hermione tried not to laugh too hard.

The bakery was small and shabby but smelled wonderful. Harry inhaled deeply, letting the smell of freshly baked bread, hot coffee, and breakfast pastries float up his nose. It was at times like these that he appreciated his life. He knew Ron and Hermione were holding hands under the table — well, they were engaged, so they ought to be — and he did not begrudge them their happiness either. Ron had proposed to Hermione a year or so ago, just when the trio had been about to start their hunt for the Horcruxes. Now, at twenty- one, he supposed they were ready to be married.

It was just . . . everything had taken a very long time. Too long. Harry’s training with Shin had consumed him for over half a year, before the Guardian had had to go back to his own dimension. This was lucky on Harry’s part, as Voldemort had been suspiciously absent for a year and a half. Not so anymore.

“Thank you.” He smiled politely at the waitress, who placed his steaming coffee and toasted sandwich on the table before him.

She battered her eyelashes. “There’s salt on the front counter if you want any, love.”

“Er,” Harry’s gaze flitted to her nametag and back again. “I don’t think I’ll be needing any, Sarah.”

“If you’re sure . . .” Sarah clearly did not want to leave.

“Yes,” said Harry firmly.

She was still hesitating. Ron had had enough. “Clear off,” he snapped. “Can’t you see the man wants to be left alone?”

Sarah turned scarlet, shot Ron a look of deep displeasure, then whirled and left.

Hermione frowned. “That was a bit harsh, Ronald.”

Harry nodded.

“Poor Harry can’t help it.”

Wait. What? “What can’t I help?”

“Yeah,” said Ron, turning to frown darkly at his fiancée. “What can’t he help?”

Hermione suddenly appeared extremely nervous and jittery. “It’s because he’s . . . Nothing! Nothing at all,” she said, her voice shrill. “Ron, we’ll be lucky if that waitress doesn’t do something to our food now, with the way you insulted her!”

Ron shrugged. “If she does I’ll just curse her.”

“You will not!” Hermione latched on quickly, looking grateful to have diverted Ron’s attention away from the previous subject. “It’s against our laws, remember?”

“I don’t care to follow the Ministry anymore, Hermione, especially as it’s been taken over by You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters,” said Ron, glowering down at the table.

Hermione looked at him wide-eyed.

But Harry’s good mood had vanished. Trust his friends’ bickering to ruin it. He bit lustily into his toast and set his mind to other things. Like his training. Harry doubted he would get any further than the level he was now on, but that was okay. Nobody could — except perhaps for The Supreme Kai, but only because he had come from another dimension.

He thought back on those eight months of training, and what had happened before that. Shin had offered to teach him to make use of his life energy, claiming it as a thank you gift for Harry helping him to avert an apocalypse. Of course Harry had agreed. An extra way to one-up Voldemort was a good idea in his books. It wasn’t until a few months later that he wondered if his use of Chi was “the power the Dark Lord knows not”.

Harry had quickly dismissed that, though.

He wasn’t very good at manipulating his Chi. Not even as good as the characters in Dudley’s martial arts films. Harry couldn’t jump great distances — only small ones. He couldn’t fly — but Voldemort, unbelievably, could, as everyone had found out at the beginning of the year when he had shown up in Diagon Alley and tried to kill Harry by swooping in through a Gringotts’ window.

But that wasn’t the only reason Harry had dismissed it. The other reason included why Hermione had to carry around Harry’s wand all the time. Why Harry wasn’t allowed to touch it at all.

It had come as an extreme shock to them all when, upon his first use of the Lumos spell in this dimension, he’d lit up the entire Burrow. Shin had explained that his magic had changed now. That his very basic molecular structure had changed ever so slightly due to travelling between the two dimensions and experiencing the full influx of the different intercepting energies. His magic, therefore, was now a heck of a lot more powerful. Not as powerful as it had been in Shin’s dimension — not as volatile and uncontrollable — but a little more powerful than Dumbledore’s level without needing to use his wand. He would be fine if he didn’t use his wand. He would be normal, or as close to normal as he could get. He hadn’t needed to use his wand for a year and a half now.

Harry took a sip of coffee as the waitress placed Ron and Hermione’s meals in front of them. Feeling a little guilty at Ron’s rudeness earlier, he gave her a hesitant smile. She leered back at him. He quickly looked down into his cup. He was not looking for romance now. He had all but given up on it in his seventh year. Had that really only been three years ago? It felt longer, somehow.

Hermione, after taking a sip from her teacup, cleared her throat. “So, I think we should go over our plans once more.” She waited until Harry and Ron uttered unenthusiastic murmurs of assent, before continuing. “You both have to admit that we’re sort of dithering right now.”

Ron snorted. “If you mean because we don’t know where the next Horcrux is —”

“Shhhhh!” Hermione hissed, looking around wildly.

Ron stared, agape, at her. “They’re only muggles. It’s not like they’d know what a —”

“— quiet —”

“— Horcrux is,” Ron finished.

Hermione glared at him. “As I was saying: we’re dithering right now. Not really doing anything — not counting your training of course — so I think we should go back to Grimmauld Place. Just until we figure out where the next you-know-what is.”

Ron stared down at his clasped hands. “Look: I still think we ought to do what I suggested last week. Don’t say anything,” Ron instilled, as Hermione opened her mouth to complain. She shut it, scowling. “I just think we should make use of the tools we have. If it’ll help us, then why not use it.”

“Messing with time is a seriously bad idea, Ronald,” Hermione snapped.

“You and Harry did it in third year,” Ron shot back.

“This isn’t the same!” said Hermione, cheeks turning red. “If we used Harry’s dimensional turner, we’d go back too far into the past! At least forty years — isn’t that about when You-Know-Who made his first you-know-what? Who knows what we could change. Reality as we know it could shift without us even remembering it! Think of the repercussions: Harry might end up in Slytherin. We might end up in Slytherin! Someone who shouldn’t have died could! Don’t you see? It’s too dangerous, Ron.”

“But we wouldn’t be actually changing anything. We’ll just spy on You-Know-Who until we work out where he put the Horcruxes. Simple.”

“Oh, and I’m sure the Dark Lord wouldn’t be able sense an invisibility cloak or spell,” said Hermione dryly.

“What do you think, Harry?” asked Ron suddenly.

Harry opened his mouth. Then closed it. Ron’s idea was intriguing, he had to admit, but like Hermione had said, there would be all sorts of repercussions. In order to use Shin’s dimensional turner they’d first have to travel to Shin’s dimension, then travel back again. At which point they’d be wandering around 1950’s Britain. They might get stuck. They might die. Anything at all might happen. Harry did not want to chance it. Not to mention that he rather thought Ron had only brought up this idea in order to get more powerful magic, like Harry had done. Harry wouldn’t mention this, though.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said reluctantly.

Ron’s brows flew up. “What? But then why did that supreme bloke give it to you at all? I thought he gave it to you so you could use it!”

“Yes, if I desperately needed it.” Harry hated feeling this irritated, but Ron was getting on his nerves. “Like, to retire in that other dimension or something, if I wanted to.”

“Then how do you suggest we find the Horcruxes?”

“I don’t know!” Harry burst out. “I think — I think we should go with Hermione’s plan. We should go to Grimmauld Place for now, think things through. There’s bound to be some clues there.”

Ron looked angry and betrayed, but did not venture to say anything more. Harry sighed in relief. Arguing this early in the morning was never pleasant, and Ron’s propensity to not drop a subject when the other occupants around the table clearly didn’t want to talk about it, was sometimes annoying. Today even more so.

At times like these Harry wished he were back in the other dimension. At least people there were laid back. Bizzare, yes, but just the right amount of bizarre.

How shocked he’d been when Shin had taken Harry back home after his battle with Babadi. They had ended up in front of Privet Drive in a glow of light, and something had rolled out of Shin’s hand. Something with glistening purple sand surrounded by delicate gold and glass. Harry had known immediately what had been going on. Sure enough — just after Harry had explained to Shin, and urged him to act accordingly — the door had opened and the other Harry had taken a step out, crushing the turner under his foot.

Shin had then thrown a blast of white light at his other self, who had vanished.

He had experienced something similar at the end of his third year, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t fazed by the whole thing.

He went back to nibbling on his toast. He, Ron, and Hermione would go to Grimmauld Place. Their hunt for the latest Horcrux was getting them nowhere fast. They needed to research.

“Pass the salt, Ron.”

“You don’t like salt.”

“I just said that to get rid of the waitress.”

The End.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: The end at last. I want to give a massive thank you to all those who never gave up on this story and kept reviewing diligently every chapter or every other chapter. I never expected when I started this that I would receive so much feedback. This chapter is dedicated to all those who ever reviewed this story. If it weren’t for your thoughts, your prods, your frustrations, your positive words, I doubt I ever would have finished Veni Vidi this soon.

This story was the last in a long line of others that I’ve yet to finish, but it was the first to be completed. Thus, it’s been frustrating — especially in those seven months where I’d ceased to exist. I did, however, enjoy thinking up the plot. DragonBall Z has been my favourite anime cartoon ever since I was a child, and Harry Potter . . . well that speaks for itself. I took the opportunity to cross over two of my most-loved fandoms and I hope it was worth it.

Thank you all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx